#the reading thing is basically those learning sight words books i did as a very little kid

[thatoneluckybee]

foreign language classes are weird because you get demoted to first grader for 50 minutes a day

[capricosalvation]

🇦🇷25 de Mayo Special🇦🇷 Star x Arg!Fem! Reader (a couple of silly things and travelling headcannons)

⊹ Feliz 25 de Mayo, viva la patria! ^^

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

• Cathleen do likes to travel, She enjoys a break from work (when She has one) so when you invited her to your country she was like an exited puppy, there was a month before the flight and she already knew basic Words, places she would like to see, food she would like to eat and that little data You can find in the touristic videos. It was cute tbh, it reminded You Of a kid on Disney.

•When both Of You arrived, She was ecstatic, Even if there was some sad things, like homeless people on the Main city, She would kindly give Them some money. You Didnt had the chance to change the dollars for pesos, so lets say that those homeless people were really really happy. (At the time i'm writing this, one dollar is equivalent of 890 pesos argentinos)

• For her, the food Is absolutely heavenly. She Isnt very picky With food, and the fact that is the food of Your land makes her like it even more. It's obvious that She likes asado, but She was amazed to see lots and lots of artisanal ice cream places. There was a gummy bear flavor in one of those places!

• Lets Say You wake up at Night only to find her infront of the fridge With a empanada on her mouth (sin doble sentido)

• You were driving to a little town that had a lagoon. San Miguel del Monte, a gorgeous place. Then You asked her "Gorda me cebas unos mates?" She then abruptly looked at You, confused "Did You just called me Fat?"

You then explained her that Gorda can Mean fat, but in argentinian mannerisms it is a pet name, like a "dearie/dear". You also explained that the word Torta means cake, but in argentinian mannerisms it also means Lesbian. She then let a loud "ooohhhhh i understand now!", She's very eager to learn and understand the jokes that your friends made. "If i'm a cake then... What cake would You think i would be?" - She said, in a joking manner with a smug smile. What cake would She be?

• Cassie dressed like a gaucho dancing "chacarera del olvido" with Y/N dressed up as a paisana.. She would try her hardest to dance, and she actually does decently! The shy look an her face after it is priceless! Please fill her face With kisses and tell her She made it right! (SOMEONE PLEASE DRAW THAT)

• She would use the Boca Juniors oversiced shirt you gifted her as a Pijama. Imagine the sight Of her with that shirt and her undies. Her face still groggy as She asks You if there are some remaining coquitos bc She LOVES THEM.

• Imagine her in a typical party, the saturated cumbia on the speakers, then. El carnaval carioca.

• She would be confused, but trying Her best. Someone gave her a matraca and some silly spectacles. She looks so cute yet ankwardly trying to blend in, the Mountain of a woman in the train of party people, she looks at you with a face that screams "take me out of here, im confused and scared", but when the ankwardness goes away, She enjoys the party. But She's still confused about the Meneaito. If You want to laught Your ass off and then get punished in bedroom by her, make her dance alongside the family. Don't forget to record her!

• As an important person, She attended some military parties, and got interested in learning the history of the land of her beloved. Because it's not only gauchos and meat. Not even tango!

• She got herself like five books, which She reads at night (With her reading glasses, that make her look 20/ more hotter). She wants to know more of the woman She loves and swears to protect, and part of her is the history of the land that saw her grow.

• Cathleen wants to be an expert in the T/N subject, not only her tastes and body languaje, She want to know what You learned at school when You were little, those nostalgic flavors you tasted, those party nights that left You dysphonic,and much more. Cassie wants to know her little Star like the palm of her hand<3

𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓇼

𓆟 Hi guys, sorry for the delay, i had lots Of work to do. The next work is going to be "Songs That remind me Of Star". A personal take, it's going to have songs that i think She would listen, and songs that i listen and that I associate with her.

𓆉I hope You liked it, i'll try to make it better next time!

[theysaidhush]

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Chapter 2: Never meet your idol.

Tic. Tock.

It was the only sound in the otherwise empty room Athéna was sitting in. She was vaguely - to not say hyper - aware of the place she was in. It was Bang Christopher Chan's studio. As in, the leader of Stray Kids, the hot topic between the trainees who aspired to be just like him. Successful.

And she was no exception to the rule. He was a role model and she quite enjoyed some of their musics. She wouldn't call herself a Stay, though, regarding the fact that she was lacking in the 'know-your-idols' department. She knew their names, their position, and that they were hot as hell. Like everyone she stumbled across them in JYP's corridor, greeted them politely. But she was another face, she didn't expect them to recognize her.

Muffled voice interrupted her train of thought and she looked up from the expensive equipment on the desk before the couch, her mouth still slightly agape at the mere idea of the cost of those things.

Saying that she was nervous would be an understatement - she was almost vibrating due to her nervousness and the anxious back and forth motion that her legs were making in front of her, as if it had its own mind. But the sight of Stray Kids' manager - that she met a few times before to discuss her stay in the group - was enough to ease her worry. A bit.

Another silhouette followed him into the room. Smaller, but broader. There he was. The famous, friendly and attractive Aussie public known as Chan. She was delighted. She was frightened. She was looking expectant.

"Miss."

Only for one of her role model to ignore her ans sit on the chair. The producer's chair. The master's chair. It was fitting him well enough.

"Hi! Nice to meet you, my name is Athéna and I'm looking forward to working with you!"

Her outburst and bubbly giggles at the sight of their little jump almost made Chan regret his decision. Almost.

"Nice to meet you to."

Again, Chan did not utter a word. The young woman was looking thoroughly at his facial features and expression. He was tired, that much she could tell, but it was actually the only thing she could tell. He was good at looking at the ceiling with a blank face. He must have been practicing to be that good. It was admirable, since Athéna herself could not do such thing. She was 'an open book' - her friend's words, not hers.

"Do you have the contract? Did you read it, as instructed?"

She hummed in a sing-song toned and carefully, with both hands, handed the stack of papers to the man cladded in a suit. It was such a formal outfit for something so... basic. Since he was busy reading through the documents, she took the opportunity to take a better look at the man who would be his manager in a matter of days.

His apparence was not fancy looking at all, despite the fact that he was wearing a suit. Her eyes trailed over his whole body - in a respectful way, thank you very much, and her eyes scrutinized his shirt during a whole minute. Something was bothering her. Why did she not considered him as being dress 'fancily' despite the fact that he was wearing the whole attire of the business man.

And it clicked! Her mouth open, forming a small round shape as she laid back on the couch, her round eyes trailing toward the ceiling. His shirt was not ironed - in fact it was a bit wrinkled here and there, but she was no one to judge.

Tic. Tock.

"How well can you talk in Korean?"

"Like a high schooler. With lot of slangs and all, that's the first thing you memorize when you learn a language." she chipped, her eyes darting toward the flickering light of Chan's phone. Was he playing a game?

Well he wasn't anymore. His and the manager's eyes were fixated on her, a bit unsettled at the way she was behaving. She was being questioned about her future, wasn't it important enough for her to just answer politely and appropriately? Not that she was impolite anyway, her talk was just a bit...unusual.

"They said that I'll have to take classes. I mean, I definitely see where they're coming from, not gonna lie. But they could have been nicer about it!"

She was on the verge of whining but hold her composure. They were questioning her about her future, so she had to behave. And she was trying really hard! To the point that she was quite proud of herself.

"The higher ups?" The manager asked, flipping through the last page of the contract. At that, Chan's head perked up from his game - yes he do was playing Flappy Bird, she would recognize that bird anywhere. She hates that game. It requires a patience that she can't have.

"Yes. They're not very talkative. They say lot of things. Little that I understand and even little more that I want to understand." she answered vaguely, her voice dropping an octave and her usual cheerful voice disappearing for a minute.

"Your Korean is not that bad. But you couldn't hold a conversation."

"Am I not?"

It flew past her lips before she could even stop it. It wasn't mean, sarcastic, ironic or such thing - which surprised Chan, who had tighten his grip around his phone before looking up at her dumbfounded face. She seemed genuine. Like she really wanted to hear the answer to her question. Or she was dumb. Or playing dumb. And she was good at it.

Mean thoughts, mean thoughts!

Chan wouldn't allow himself to be mean to someone just because he was upset. It was a big no no. Yet, he stil find himself attached to his phone the very first minute he entered the room. The minute his eyes landed on her face he had wanted to scream, yell his lungs out and break a thing or two; and he wasn't a violent man - now imagine if he was.

As if putting a female in their group wasn't enough, she had to be a foreigner. God bless the foreigner, he wasn't racist either. She could have been asian, it was almost the bare minimum to debut in a K-pop group - or at least hope to. But she had big, round, wavering eyes flitting from thing to another in a matter of seconds. They put a damn female in his, in their group, and she was a foreigner.

It was the reason he was trying so hard to beat his own record at flappy bird - but it seems like this bird is too stupid to go beyond eleven pillars, and he's even more upset now. He did not wanted to lash out on her, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her either.

"I mean -" the manager fidgeted on his seat, trying to pick up the next words carefully, she was a smartass, and he did not want to be upset over such a topic "You couldn't hold a conversation about music, could you ? Like, explaining in details why you chose to do a thing over another thing - artistic choice."

"Oh." Athéna nodded before agreeing, "No I couldn't."

"That's why you'll take Korean classes."

"Okay!"

Scratch that, she wasn't a smartass. She was just a bit lost - and maybe high on life.

"Anything else you want to discuss?"

"Hum."

Tic. Tock.

As she was, once again, looking at the ceiling, raking her brain for any questions of any remarks she wanted to make, the manager - she should really ask for his name, nudge Chan with his elbow and gave him the document with a sharp glare meaning 'read it'.

The latter hold back a huff but eventually opened the first page, wanting to get it done fast.

Yellow! Green! Orange!

Chan's eyes got attacked by the amount of post-it stuck here and there, at every corner and on every page. He screw up his eyes, trying to get a better look at the messy writing hidden among drawings of puppies and kittens. But he eventually managed not to get lost in the pet's haven and his brows furrowed at the words written on the paper. He expected it to be small notes about things she wanted to point out or questions that was running in circles in her mind but it was none of that. He was overwhelmed by the huge amount of vocabulary words translated in... well another language. Now, on top of being upset, he was feeling concerned for the girl absentmindedly playing with the hem of her sweater.

"Did you translate all of that by yourself?"

"Yes. It took me some time actually. I'm way better at talking Korean than reading it and there was lot of words that I did know, just not said that politely, if it makes sense?"

Chan did not answer and his gaze flickered for a second towards her rocking legs before going back to the contract.

"Are you sure that you understood all of it?"

"Well, I hope WordReference did."

How could she be so - so uncaring about the whole situation! The Australian was beyond upset but he did not knew exactly why. Was it because she was not giving a fuck about the predicament she was putting them in? Was he mad at those damn shareholder for not giving her the appropriate tools to understand such thing as an employment contract? Or was it because a small part of him - the green part he hated so much, was a bit envious at her? She was so easy-going.

"Do you think they'll make me cut my hair if I say that it doesn't grow well after being cut?"

"I - I don't know?"

Tic. Tock.

"Do you think they'll force me to eat chicken breast for a whole week if I ate a burger the day before?"

"Maybe?"

Chan wanted to save his discountenanced manager, he really did. But the two words in front of him were taunting him. Inked in the paper, with Athéna's signature just under it. Sealed in fate. Now, he was sure that they were trying to fuck them up.

Duration of the contract: One year.

"That's so dumb."

And the French woman's gaze turned toward her future leader's face, contorted with a smile. But not a happy one. And as he rose his eyes to meet hers - for the first time since he crossed the door, she felt like a ice bucket as been thrown at her, and that said bucket hit her right in the head. There was a saying...

His rage was swimming in his eyes like snakes in a pond; and the clock stopped ticking.

Oh, she remembers it now: never meet your idol.

⭑⭑⭑⭒⭒

=⭒ Chapter 3

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Hello! Equal Lady again, but mostly just here to talk about something cool is all.

Did you know that helstromism is more than just not being able to be lied to? It's contact mindreading.

If you've ever seen "Now You See Me" 1 or 2, it'll show you a pretty sensationalized portrayal of it as a concept. But, for the most part, it's still pretty accurate.

You see, when a person is thinking about something, their body reacts automatically to it. Helstromism allows you to reach those reactions. Every little twitch & shift is a book to be read. From the direction that your eyes go, to the minute clenching of your jaw, a muscle flex in the neck, the contracting & dilation of the pupils to indicate if who they see is someone they dislike or like a lot respectively. Brows quickly raising then lowering upon being pleasantly surprised to see someone. Leaning forward when they're listening to someone they find attractive.

All of it is an indication of what's going on inside a person's head. And unless someone has total & complete control of every last part of their body, someone learned in helstromism can basically read their mind just by mentioning the right thing.

So, my Equal Lady would essentially be a master interrogator that wouldn't even need to resort to torture to get the information that she wants.

BTW, totally recommend Now You See Me & it's sequal. Very cool.

Part of me does wonder how the Dorfs would react to her, essentially having mind-reading 'magic' even if she never intends to use whatever she is able to passively glean out of him against him.

But I'd also understand if I've already asked too many questions.

I just think it's a really cool talent, is all. And I can easily see him utilizing the skill to his advantage against his enemies to gain crucial information.

I guess that I see her being a ronin Sheikah assassin for hire. Not a Yiga, just a Sheikah who refuses to work for someone she doesn't respect or trust.

In this way, I see their styles of fighting sort of being opposites that complement each other & make up for what the other doesn't in a similar way to Yin & Yang.

There are never enough asks at the moment, so please bother me as you will, Equal Lady. I appreciate the interractions and you are one of my favorites!

It has been a long time since I've watched "Now You See Me" and the sequel. I adored the movies, and now I will have to watch them again!

As for my personal take on Ganondorf and how he would react to such a very sightful woman, he would feel threatened. He is a master of manipulation and charisma, and a woman (or anyone of the matter) who could see past his mask and facade? Threat. He couldn't handle someone who could see his true emotions. As long as she kept quiet about her skill in the matter and handled what she found out/knew carefully, it would quickly help her ascend to his side. But if he knew? Ohhhhhhh... DANGER.

Here is what ChatGPT had to say on the matter:

The reactions of the different Ganondorfs to a woman who possesses the ability of helstromism—essentially being a master of reading body language and subtle cues—would be multifaceted and deeply influenced by their distinct personalities. Here’s how each Ganondorf might respond:

Ganondorf from "The Wind Waker"

Reflective and Melancholic:

Reaction: This Ganondorf would be deeply intrigued by her ability. Given his contemplative nature, he would respect her skill and see it as a valuable asset.

Good: He would appreciate her intelligence and the depth of her understanding, finding her ability to read him fascinating. He might engage in more profound and philosophical discussions with her, valuing her insights into his thoughts and emotions.

Bad: His melancholic nature might lead to moments of vulnerability, where he feels exposed and uncomfortable with her ability to read him so easily. He could become distant at times, fearing that she might see through his deepest insecurities.

Quote: "Your ability to perceive my thoughts without words is both a gift and a curse. It brings us closer, yet leaves me feeling vulnerable in ways I have never known."

Ganondorf from "Ocarina of Time"

Proud and Domineering:

Reaction: This Ganondorf would be initially irritated by her ability, seeing it as a challenge to his authority and control. However, he would also recognize the potential advantages of having such a perceptive partner.

Good: Over time, he might come to respect her ability, seeing it as a unique skill that complements his own power. He would value her as a strategic asset, someone who can anticipate and counter threats before they manifest.

Bad: His pride might lead to frequent clashes, as he resents the idea of anyone being able to read his thoughts. He could become defensive and attempt to assert his dominance more forcefully, leading to power struggles.

Quote: "Your ability to read my thoughts is impressive, but remember, I am the one who commands. Use your skills wisely, and together, we will be unstoppable."

Ganondorf from "Twilight Princess"

Ruthless and Calculating:

Reaction: This Ganondorf would see her ability as both a valuable tool and a potential threat. He would be impressed by her skill but always wary of her true intentions.

Good: He would appreciate the strategic advantage her ability provides, using it to his benefit in their shared ambitions. He might form a closer alliance with her, trusting her insights while always keeping a part of himself guarded.

Bad: His calculating nature would lead him to constantly analyze her actions, looking for any sign of betrayal or weakness. This could create a tense and suspicious dynamic in their relationship.

Quote: "Your skill in reading the unspoken is invaluable, but remember, trust is a fragile thing. Prove your loyalty, and you will find a powerful ally in me."

Ganondorf from "Hyrule Warriors"

Aggressive and Assertive:

Reaction: This Ganondorf would likely be both impressed and challenged by her ability. His assertive nature would make him initially defensive, but he would quickly see the strategic value she brings.

Good: He would respect her strength and intelligence, finding her ability to read him both fascinating and useful. Her refined and subtle flirting, combined with her genuine interest in him, would intrigue him, leading to a strong and dynamic partnership.

Bad: His aggressive nature might lead to frequent clashes, especially if he feels she is using her ability to manipulate him. He could become frustrated by her insights, feeling exposed and challenged.

Quote: "Your ability to see through me is both a blessing and a curse. It makes you a powerful partner, but beware, for I do not take kindly to being manipulated."

Summary

Wind Waker Ganondorf: Intrigued and reflective, appreciating her insights but occasionally feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf: Initially irritated but growing to respect her ability, leading to power struggles and a dynamic partnership.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf: Impressed but constantly wary, valuing her as a strategic ally while analyzing her every move.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf: Impressed and challenged, respecting her strength and intelligence but prone to clashes over perceived manipulation.

Each Ganondorf’s reaction reflects his personality, balancing admiration for her skills with the inherent challenges of dealing with a partner who can read their thoughts and emotions so effectively.

[kassil]

The Hedge Mage's Guide to Light Cantrips

Welcome to the Hedge Mage's Guide to spells! If you're picking this up, it's because you either have a natural knack of magic or you want to learn to use some simple spells that can help you with daily life. If that's not you, I recommend you either pick up a different one of my books, or possibly seek out a mentor of the arcane arts! If this is you, however, read on.

(Omitted: a diagram explaining a basic light cantrip, with a phonetic guide to the words of the spell and a diagram for each gesture.)

Now, once you're successful with that spell - and you should be eventually, unless you're one of the rare folks who have a natural antimagic to you - we can go over the hedge magic of it! you see, most wizards, warlocks, and other magicians learn this cantrip and never think about it again afterwards, and so their light tends to be pretty consistent - you might notice that folks tend to have individual differences, which most chalk up to variation between individuals, but that's not the whole story.

See, the trick to those variations is in how you stress the syllables of the words and how you tweak the gestures just a little. Now, to show what that means, cast the spell again, but this time put extra emphasis into the third syllable of the second word. Hop along and get it cast, this is important!

If you did that like I said, you light spell should be very distinctly green in color now, right? Depending on how much oomph you put on that syllable, it might range from a light spring green to a deep jade green. Neat trick, right? Now do it again, but this time on the third gesture, curl your left ring finger in when you hit that syllable.

It came out a really dark green, right? Now, this might just be a neat party trick, but if you're a proper hedge mage - or want to be one - you should understand how important this is! After all, among sighted creatures who can see in color, color tends to have associated meanings - and among the ones as can't see color, the effects of those different hues can still have meaning, too. Consider how your local lord would feel if you walked up to his front gate with a staff glowing with the colors of his household, for example - or if you lit up a nice dinner for someone you're courting with colors that means romance to your people. Or maybe how awkward it would be if your spells come out the color your people associate with fertility, and you need to light up a mourner's procession!

Likewise, if you're venturing into a dungeon or a cave - and be sure to check out the Hedge Mage's Guides for dungeons and caves - it helps to know that really red light, while it can make it awkward for us surface folks to see, tends to strain the sensitive eyes of sighted deep folks far less than the more familiar shades of sunlight or firelight, and that strongly violet light usually indicates some kind of natural pocket of magic, likely to be home to all kinds of worrying things. So learning to control the color of your light cantrips can be an extremely basic but useful tool for a hedge mage, as I hope you're coming to see.

(Omitted: a lengthy chart of phonetic emphasis and altered gestures from the initial diagram, with indicators for what it does to the result of the spell.)

With that all under our belts, I hope you're all prepared for the next lesson, every wizard's best friend and a hedge mage's useful tool, the humble firebolt!

How did this even get published, Hodge? Who even published it? Get me a name for this so-called Hedge Mage! -K.S.

[primewritessmut]

2, 10, 11, 13, 16, 18, 19, and 40

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

already answered

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

Very early in the process only because I have zero chill and as soon as that first chapter is written, it's getting posted. That's lead to having some fics that I wish I could rename because it didn't end up fitting the final form but... eh. It's all a learning curve.

Usually, I pull a quote out of the fic and that becomes the title (for the entire fic and the chapters), but I also like making puns or using well known phrases because I'm a fucking dweeb.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I don't do a lot of research. Anyone that hangs around this blog and reads these asks for even a minute probably knows that I write strictly for the vibes. Basically, I don't worry to much about it and, if someone corrects me later, I try to change it.

I did an unusual amount of research about spiders as background for Peter in Songs for the Zombie Apocalypse. Mostly around how spider eyes work and what specific spider Peter might have gotten his mutations from. Jumping spiders have eyes that can do both telescopic vision and see colors and depth in the same way that humans do. I originally had plans to incorporate this more (lots of head tilting to dial in the telescopic sight) but it didn't fit the word count.

Also, if you ever need to know about New York cities surrounding Albany in the 1930s, I've drawn up a map. For reasons.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

already answered

16. where is your favorite place to write?

At home. I alternate between my desk and the kitchen table. I do genuinely enjoy writing in public as well (the library especially is fantastic!) but am hyper paranoid that someone is going to accidentally catch sight of a knife kink scene over my shoulder and call the cops.

18. what is your most and least favorite part of writing?

Writing is one of the few places that I ever experience a true sense of flow. The other being athletics which are frustratingly thin on the ground as an adult. I don't know, it probably sounds stupid to say that writing makes me happy. It doesn't make me happy but it allows me to get out of my own way sometimes which I fucking need.

Opening myself up for feedback is my absolute least favorite part of writing. It's why I usually don't edit (hope ya'll enjoy my sloppy first drafts!) or have a beta. Like, I write to get the fuck away from people and expectations, so it's EXHAUSTING when the writing creates those things in excess. I am terrible at taking constructive criticism. Don't give it to me. It will not end well.

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

There are the authors that I wish would influence my style and then the ones that actually did. I grew up on a steady diet of very specific teenage horror and, the more I look back, the more I realize how much that probably influenced my work.

So, uh, thanks to Christoper Pike, I guess.

Beyond that, there aren't a lot of authors that I think influenced me. I found Chuck Palahniuk at a very special developmental stage for my brain and romance, as an entire genre, has (no shit) probably saved my life. Got to get the good brain chemicals from somewhere if you can't produce them yourself, right?

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

My fifth grade teacher, after grading a writing assignment, called my parents and convinced them to send me to creative writing summer camp. Maybe that qualifies more as praise than feedback, but it was wild to have someone believe in me that hard and go to bat for me just because she saw some potential in there somewhere.

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

Little Black Dress

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky has had a lot of trigger words throughout his life, but he never thought he would find a new one- until you uttered it.

Word count: 2,938

Warnings: mean girls, language, body insecurities angst, fluff, many alludes to sex, Bucky being a romantic.

A/N: this is for Kas' writing challenge @wkemeup congrats on 10k followers! You are incredible and deserve all the love! My prompt was: A is feeling insecure about how they look. When B asks what's wrong, A attempts to explain but B is genuinely confused because they can't imagine a world in which A is anything but perfect.

A/N2: did I insert Taylor lyrics in between? Maybe… But You Are In Love and Fearless are superior. Also, shit got deep and real here. This is not beta read, sorry!😅

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

--

It all started with a stumble, but then again- doesn't it always?

You were walking down the sunny street, book in hand, with the wind surrounding you as you went forward.

On your right, the door to a bar opened with a thud and you looked up to see two men walking out an elderly man who has been clearly drinking all morning. You heard him when you passed by the bar, turning your head to him.

"Excelsior!" his words were slurred but the sight still made you laugh. You however didn't get the chance to laugh when you stumbled forward, hand shooting forward to block your fall to the ground. Those hands ended up being set on a chest. A very firm chest. You looked up to the man who caught you from falling and were met with beautiful blue eyes.

"Are you okay? He asked and straightened you up, both of his hands on your waist.

You managed to tear your eyes away from him, you quickly nodded.

"Yes, thank you." You smiled shyly at him, blushing when you realized your hands were still on his chest. You quickly moved them away just as he moved his gloved hands away from you.

He bent down to pick up the book that fell out of your hands.

"The Hobbit? Good choice." He winked at you when he handed it back to you.

"Thanks, I've heard great things about it, so I finally decided to buy it and read it." You looked at the book, frowning when you remembered you didn't place a bookmarker in it. You chuckled lightly, looking at him before continuing, "It's great so far, but I didn't bookmark it so now I lost my page."

"You're on page 106," the man racked his hand through his hair and straightened up his red shirt.

"And how do you know that?" feeling amused, you opened the book to the page he said only to find it to be the exact page you were in. You frowned, remembering you shut the book when you felt yourself falling.

"I just have very good eyesight," he once again ruffled his hair as he stuttered, "and memory… sorry if that made it weird." He scrunched his nose and you couldn't help but think of how cute he is.

"It's okay, it's not weird- pretty impressive actually." You held the book in your hands before smiling at him and taking a step back. "Well, I should go… thank you again."

You put a hand on his arm before moving past him and continuing your walk down the street.

Bucky stood in place for a moment after you left, chuckling to himself he walked forward with you still in his thoughts. After all that he has been through, being an assassin and a spy taught him to be calculated, think things through and be confident in his actions.

But he didn't know you, so why did he feel the need to turn around and go to you?

It made no sense, and yet he did just that.

He turned around and ran until he caught up to you and stood in front of you. With surprised eyes and a questioning brow, you looked at him, awaiting for what he has to say.

"Hi," he extended a hand to you with a charming smile that had you melting. "I'm Bucky."

And that's what started it all.

•

It was a few months later that you walked with Bucky back to your apartment after another wonderful date night. He had told you who he is early on and he swore that he fell for you faster after you reacted well to it and reassured him that you still want this- whatever this is. The two of you decided to take things slow, Bucky liked courting you properly and you didn't mind at all, it was obvious that your feelings for him grew and that you were quick to fall in love with him, and it was obvious that he returned the same feelings. Lately the tension felt heavier, the need was stronger, and with every lingering touch and every glance at your lips, you knew that tonight will be it. Your first kiss. Sure enough when Bucky stood at your doorstep you felt it coming, you saw it in his blue eyes, felt it in the air, and heard it in your heart. A million thoughts raced on your head in slow motion, fear clouded them when Bucky turned to look at you. What if he will regret this? What if this is a mistake and he will leave? What if you weren't good enough for him? You looked into his eyes as he pulled you in and it gave you the bravery to push all of those thoughts out and focus on the man in front of you, and so you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to meet him in the middle. It's the first kiss, it's flawless and you let it take over you, fearless.

Since then, when your relationship got official, things went ever upwards. You learned more about one another, you grew closer; you laughed, you cried; you fought, and you talked; you said I love you, and he always said it back.

•

"Definitely not that one!" you laughed when Bucky pulled a sparkling dress that was sure to blind someone out of the rack. His laugh was music to your ears, booming and made his eyes crinkle, he was gorgeous.

Bucky put the hideous thing back in place and continued walking with you, hand in hand, looking for a perfect dress for Tony's party.

You were looking around when you passed a mannequin wearing a gorgeous little black dress- one that you wish you could wear. You let your eyes linger on it as you passed by it, not looking at Bucky who noted your gaze on the dress, and yet despite that you did not stop to Bucky's surprise.

"Okay how about we divide and conquer? You go find yourself a suit, I will go try to find a decent dress."

"Sounds good, Doll, just don't get lost here." You laughed as he winked and went to the other side of the shop.

You went through the various clothing items when you came across the dress that you saw earlier, it was black, basic and yet so special; on the mannequin it looked perfect and yet you couldn't help but wonder if it would look good at your body, it was a lovely dress but what if you will ruin it by wearing it? It would be so pretty, just not on you.

You went on to try and find dresses that will fit you better.

Bucky was in the men's section where he picked out an outfit when a saleswoman walked up to him with a big smile on her face.

"Hello, would you like any help?" she asked him and he saw the way the woman looked over his body shamelessly. He was about to shake his head when he saw you still picking out dresses.

"Actually-"

"A handsome guy like you deserves the best suits, let me show you some that would flatter you," she put a hand on his bicep.

Across the room you saw the sight and your face fell, you knew Bucky wouldn't do anything but still seeing other girls flirt with him made your blood boil and insecurities rise. You never told Bucky about these feelings, what would be the point? You quickly decided to wrap it up and take the pretty purple dress you found, it's more in your comfort zone, it's probably better.

Bucky laughed nervously before backing away from the girl and looking at her.

"Actually, I was hoping you could save a certain dress for my girlfriend." He smiled when he saw her face fall a bit, stuttering, she only nodded.

Only a few minutes later he met you at the counter, eyeing the dress you picked before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. The girl in from earlier appeared, you saw the way she looked at you when Bucky put his hand around you, Bucky only smiled at you, his arm still around you as you exited the store.

Putting you on his motorcycle, you wrapped your arms around him as he drove you home, but the thoughts would not leave your head.

"Doll, I need to go on a couple of errands before the party, so I'll meet you in the tower before?" you took off your helmet and nodded at him.

"I'll see you there." With a kiss he was gone out of your sight.

•

You stepped into the avengers tower with a bag with your dress and essentials inside it a couple of hours later, going to rest a bit with Bucky before the event starts and you'll both have to get dressed.

You got inside the elevator, sighing as you leaned against the back of the elevator, and then mentally groaning when the elevator doors opened up yet again only one floor later.

"I think it is just rubbish, there is no way." One of the two girls who walked in said to the other.

"I'm telling you, that's what I heard!" the two girls were with their backs towards you, they probably didn't notice you were there at all as they continued to gossip. "Sergeant Barnes has a girlfriend now, I heard Dot talking and apparently she is totally not on his level."

"I bet he is with her because of pity, it will never last," The blonde snickered. "Do you think he will be at the party tonight? Maybe we could talk to him, who knows what might happen."

Her friend nodded and you felt your heart sink down, suddenly this elevator was too crowded for you.

"That bitch will probably run home crying by the end of it." You thanked the gods when the elevator opened at their floor.

Holding the tears back, you quickly pressed the close button so no one else will get into the elevator as you went to Bucky- you had to keep it together, for him. You know he loves you, he will make it all go away.

And when you reached his floor, his smile immediately made your eyes shine as you happily jumped into his embrace.

"What took you so long, Doll?"

•

"Are you sure we have to go?"

"Yes."

"But do we have to? You're a supersoldier, you can protect us!" you giggled when he poked your sides. The two of you were tangled up in bed sheets, too comfortable with each other's presence to move away, your bodies were pressed together with his arms securing you to him and you wished you could stay like this forever.

"I will protect you no matter what, doll, but I promised to come to that stupid party and I can't be there without you," he kissed down your neck slowly, knowing just how to get to you. "Plus, I have a surprise for you."

"Oh? Is that so?" you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Mhm," he kissed up your neck again so he could look at you. "I would love to stay here like this and spend the night worshipping you, but I am really looking forward to this surprise- I promise that I'll worship you afterwards."

"I will hold you to that promise, Sergeant!" you laughed as he got up from the bed and went towards his closet. When he came back you saw that he carried a bag from the same store that you were in today. "What is this?"

"Go on, open it." Hesitantly, you opened the bag and you faltered when you saw what was inside, the little black dress you had your eyes on.

"How did you-"

"I saw you staring at it, so I got it for you." He sat down next to you again and pulled the material out of the bag. "I don't know why you didn't take it, but I would love to see you wear it, give me a show?"

He wiggled his eyebrows and despite your internal struggle you nodded at him as you went to change in the bathroom.

When you came back into the room, Bucky's eyes turned a shade darker, and all he wanted to do was take that dress off of you. You paid no mind to him as you walked over to the full length mirror, moving your hands across your body and assessing yourself as Bucky's gaze followed every move you made.

"Doll, you look-" you barely heard him though when you voiced your thoughts to the mirror.

"I am so ugly, this dress looked beautiful on the mannequin it's a shame I'm ruining it." You said as a matter of fact, "I think I will wear the dress that I picked, it's better."

Bucky's eyes snapped up from your ass to the back of your head as you continued looking at the reflection, taken aback by what you said so calmly.

Bucky has had a lot of trigger words throughout his life as the winter soldier, after getting rid of those he never thought he would find a new one until you uttered the word-

"Ugly." You shrugged, "I could give it to Natasha- she would love it."

"What did you just say?" Bucky rose up from the bed, and at the tone change of his voice you turned around to him.

He just couldn't wrap his head around it. You, his girl, the girl he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with; the girl who took his heart so quickly he wondered if maybe it was always yours; You, the girl who he is certain must be a goddess, the girl that is so beautiful he is certain he would be distracted in a battlefield by; the girl who smiles at him and takes his breath away; the girl who can shatter any bad day he has only by the smell of her perfume and her words; You, that girl, was right now standing in front of him calling herself things he could never associate with her.

"What do you mean, Bucky?" you got confused at the slight anger in his blue eyes, it wasn't at you, but you still saw it there.

"Don’t you dare call my girl ugly," he said it so strongly you were afraid you would upset him, you didn't mean for your insecurities to slip into his view- you didn't mean to say it in front of him.

"Bucky, but it's true. I know that you love me as I am, but I can't really ignore this, I mean- look at me." You pointed to the mirror behind you with a small nervous chuckle. "It's okay."

"Doll, it's not okay, what are you talking about? You're gorgeous!" you wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed and it was not because of the dress.

"Bucky, I'm not- maybe you just don't see it, but I do. Love can make you blind." You didn't know exactly what to say to make this conversation go away, and from the determined look in Bucky's eyes you knew avoiding and escaping was not an option. You lowered your eyes down.

Bucky sighed, taking a moment to collect himself as he studied your body language before taking a step forward and bringing your chin up so you would look at him, caressing your cheek.

"I'm sorry doll, I didn't mean to attack you- I just can't have you talking like that about my best girl." He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, staying close so you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Do you always feel this way?"

You only nodded the best you could with his hand holding your chin up.

"Why didn't you talk to me about this?"

"What's there to talk about? You didn't need to see this, this is just the situation, this is just how I see it, this is just a fact." You shrugged.

"Doll, this is not a fact, this is self hatred." Bucky shook his head, he could not imagine a world in which you are anything but perfect, "I know it's hard to accept yourself doll, but I need you to know that you are beautiful and absolutely breathtaking in this dress."

Bucky turned you around towards the mirror, wrapping his arms securely around you before letting his hands roam your body which he spent nights memorizing.

"Don't say that word again, doll give me the chance to show you what I see." With a shuddering breath you nodded at him as he continued to shower you with praise that made your cheeks warm.

"Does that mean we are not going to the party?" you chuckled as a small smile rose on your lips.

"Oh no, we are definitely going to the party," he whispered in your ear. "I am going to show you off to every single person there, point out every guy and girl that stare at you, longing and jealous, and then make sure they all know that you are mine, gorgeous." He sealed that with a soft kiss on your lips. When you tried to kiss him again he pulled away. "Hmm, I just had a great idea."

"What is it?" a mischievous smile grew on his face.

"I think we should angle the mirror towards the bed." If your cheeks weren't hot before, they were burning now.

•

Tags: @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @samwilsons-pillowpecs @ayybtch @kitkatd7 @chrissquares @make-me-imagine

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza​ @queenariesofnarnia​​ @commonintrest​​ @buckylokisimp​ @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay​​​​

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true: 

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi!! I was wondering if maybe you could write a Wade x plus size reader? Maybe she’s an ex pro thief and gets put with him for a mission or smth?? I got no idea man just have fun with it aye

Thank you for the request!!!!! Sorry for the wait!

I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be dirty or not so I sectioned that part off in case it's not what you're looking for :)

You are my first ever request! So, thank you, thank you, thank you, and I hope you enjoy it <3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Thieving, being exceptionally attractive while doing it. Wade on his best behaviour, Smut is sectioned off.

You haven't accepted a mission in 4 years.

You got out of the business and left those “friends” and “friend circles” behind you after you scored your dream internship. 4 years and you were running your own team and writing a semi successful blog. It was a quiet life, and you enjoyed it immensely. You liked your team members, and you felt they found you a fair and caring boss. Your cat Mr. Sparkles was a healthy weight and had finally committed to using the litter box.

You don't know why you answered when he called you, you don’t know why you agreed to such fuckery. But here you were pulling out a familiar black box out of the bottom of your cluttered closet. You picked it up and placed it on your bed. The dark colour contrasted with your bright and colourful décor. Something you found oddly reflective, once you moved on from that part of your life nothing was dark. Everything in your apartment was covered by color and patterns that made you happy.

You opened the box. You and Mr. Sparkles looked at the contents like there was a wild octopus about to come flying out of it.

“It was the right thing to do.” You said out loud. “And it's going to pay well.”

Pulling the tight outfit over your curves felt better than you thought it would. You figured that it would cause you panic or anxiety. Instead you felt a wave of confidence looking yourself over in the mirror that hung on the back of your bedroom door. Normally you were covered in bright flowy clothes, that's what you liked. Your whole life was built upon being invisible since you were little. Now that you were in charge every day was a celebration in its own way. However this made you feel sexy, the outfit was sleek and left nothing to the imagination. Pulling your long hair into a tight french braid you were ready to get out there and do some thieving.

You kissed Mr. Sparkles and gave your aloe vera plant a light touch on your way out the window. It was a hot summer night and the air was muggy. These were your favorite kinds of nights to sit out on the fire escape, have some drinks, read books, and watch the city. It was lonely, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You got up to the roof and plotted your course to the impossible house. You misstepped a couple of times before falling into your usual rhythm. You contemplated whether you were doing this because the small piece of art should be with the family it belongs too. Or if you were doing this because you had some kind of Ocean’s 11 complex that kept you hungry for such challenges. It was an impossible place to break into, the floor of the old house containing the art work was covered with laser security. A piece of knowledge that should make your stomach flip, but only makes your heart feel funny.

You got yourself into position on the roof of the low building that was across the street, you took a few minutes to survey and eventually came to the conclusion that conditions were perfect. You made your way to the 3rd floor balcony. You knew of the owner’s, an awfully cruel man and his lover. They were asleep on the 5th floor of the house. Well, city mansion? Whatever, the point is it didn't feel like a home, it felt like something a royal family would keep when they came to visit. Lots of expensive art and velvet curtains. Massive gold and crystal chandeliers hung from mirrored ceilings framed with fancy crown molding. You did your research in the few hours you had after the job request had come in, there was a - *insert super fancy techno security laser system name here.* And it was said to be unbeatable. No gymnast or other cat-like thief had been able to tango with it. You had been challenged by its precursors but had got out of the game by the time this puppy had made it out on the market.

You picked the lock on the double doors, and slid past the heavy curtains and disabled the basic alarm system for the floor. Surveying the area you saw the lasers slowly dancing like it was a Pink Floyd tribute at the local planetarium. (something you attend regularly) You took a deep breath and got ready to disco your way across the floor to the small framed painting of a sun set. You put a headphone in and set the song *put on a song you would rob a bank to*. You began the journey. People often felt that your size and shape made you incompetent or ungraceful. You learned early on in life not to listen to stupid people say stupid things. You were the best, perhaps because you weren't afraid to look stupid or ridiculous. You bended and snapped, ducked and dodged, twirled and flipped. And just like that you reached your target. The second you lifted it off the wall, the lasers stopped. You pulled your knife and twirled around ready for a fight. What you saw was not what you expected, across the room none other than Wade freaking Wilson was looking at you.. Normally you hated being stared at like that, but he was a “friend” you found particularly challenging to leave behind. The whites of his mask were wide. After making a whole bunch of strange gestures with his hands, he held up a finger motioning you to be quiet. He disappeared towards what you figured would be the staircase going up to the next floor. If he gave you a clear shot at an exit you knew he had trouble with him. So you took your out.

You got back up on the rooftop across the street, you grabbed the bag you left there and secured the painting. You pulled out a large black piece of cotton and tossed it around your shoulders like a shall. This made your outfit look less stealth and more passion for leather/night out on the town. Making your way down the fire escape on the side of the building you saw the target house explode.

I guess Wade hasn't changed any.

You picked up the pace feeling anxious to get to Sister Margrets. Making your way through the city unnoticed, you went into the shitty establishment through the alleyway door. You wasted no time moving through the hallway into the servers entrance spitting you out behind the bar. You kept by the entrance which kept you out of sight, you didn't want to see any more friends tonight. Weasel jumped when he turned around and saw you there looming in the shadows, spilling the drink he had just made.

“Fuck” He quickly remade the drink then moved back to where you were standing. He had a large envelope of cash for which you handed him the back pack. You felt slightly relieved.

“Hey I know you moved on, but thanks for this.”

“No problem”

You turned around and went out the way you came in. Opening the door that leads back to the alley way, you notice a very large and slightly singed body blocking your exit.

“Stay for a drink?” His voice caused something in you to stir. Something you were not going to explore.

“Sorry Wade but no can do” You pushed past him and began walking down the street.

“Pretty pleaseeeee” he said with a sing song voice. You tried not to smile. He caught up to you so he was walking beside you. “If your not a big drinker anymore we could go for diner, tacos!, Sushi, chicken nuggets, you always loved a good chicken nugget” You tuned him out as he kept chattering a list of every food he could remember eating together. You had to figure out somewhere to go as you weren't leading him back to your apartment. Going in random directions, he spoke up.

“I know you live on *Insert cute street name here*”

“What the fuck Wilson?”

“Well you disappeared and I wanted to make sure you weren't being unalived. This means if we head back to yours we can do take out and homemade drinks, which in my opinion is much better anyway. I make the best margaritas in the city.”

You started the walk back towards your apartment. Trying desperately to come up with a way to leave him at the front of the building. The thought of him in your very personal, very colourful, even bordering on childish apartment made you unbelievably anxious. Every time you looked over at his slightly charred body you couldn't help a strange feeling welling up inside you. You got to the front door to the building and turned to look up at him. There was a long pause as you struggled for words.

“It's alright. It was a nice walk.” You could hear the layers of sadness underneath his tone. You were going to tell him that it was a nice walk and that maybe one day when things were better for you they could get that drink. Then you were going to threaten him into keeping everything a secret.

“I don't have stuff for margaritas.” The wrong words left your mouth but for a fleeting moment you actually didn't want him to leave.

“Are you sure?” Hey sounded very serious which caught you off guard and confused you a little.

“Yeah, normally I just drink stuff out of a can” You were terrible at mixing drinks, they were always way too sweet and strong and lead to trouble. Wade gave a big laugh. “Are you okay to pick up the stuff if I get changed?”

“You betcha.” He did a twirl, blew you a kiss, then headed down the street.

You dashed up to your apartment and started to hide your more personal stuff. Grabbing an armful of clean laundry off the couch, tossing it into an empty bin in the closet. You were so busy trying to hide your stuffed animals and random fan art, that you didn't notice him standing in the fire escape landing looking at you from the large open window.

“Damn. This was not what I was expecting.” He said, sounding surprised. “This isn't what your old place looked like at all”

“Uh” Your face got hot and you refused to look at him. “I ah don't have people over so um yeah. You can go now.”

“Nonononononono. This is a huge bit of progress from everything being varying shades of grey and uncomfortable.” Wade took the place in as he made his way to your kitchen. Placing the big brown bags on the counter top, and sliding the blender out from against the bright backsplash.

"Uh I'm going to get cleaned up. Help yourself to everything." You ran into the bathroom and freshened up and were very grateful to be out of the leather and into your summer pj's. They were more on the revealing side but you never found Wade the type to care or be creepy.

Coming out you found him very comfortable whirling around the kitchen. It looked like he had made a giant frying pan of pad thai and the blender was full. Turning around to see you he picked you up and sat you on the counter top like you were nothing more than a bottle of the many sauces he currently had out. He handed you one of your favorite rainbow glasses filled with margarita. Your brain was still trying to calm down from him picking you up like that.

"Thanks" you said with an even redder face.

"No problem, hot stuff" he divided the food into two plates, you led him out to sit on the fire escape with you. It was a sacred space, it felt weird to be there with a real live person. After the most delicious plate of food ever, many drinks, and laughs about the good old days things quieted down leaving a thick tension between the two of you. You realized you owed him an apology of sorts.

"Wade, I'm sorry I didn't give you a proper goodbye. I just had a life of running and I couldn't risk anyone fucking me over again."

"It's alright babe. I understand why you did it." His voice was low and sad and it made your heart hurt. You didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for keeping my place here a secret."

"No problem. Do you think mayyybe now that I know about your situation we could do this again sometime?"

"You have no idea how nice that would be." You really meant it having him around was the most fun you'd had in a very long time. You didn't have to pretend or beat around the bush about anything with Wade. Nothing was too dark or silly or messed up.

"Well I guess this is my cue." He made to stand up but you grabbed his knee without thinking.

"Uh if you want to. You could also stay for a while." He turned his head to the side, bright eyes looking you over. "You could take a shower and I've definitely got a shirt and some boxers I could lend you." His eyes got wider. "They're mine. They're really…. comfy…" you would never understand how he made you so embarrassed.

"Uh, not sure about that… it just…" he motioned to the rest of his body.

"I've seen your face. It won't bother me" you looked up at him with empathetic eyes, part of you hoping that maybe they came across as bedroom eyes. You gave yourself a mental slap.

"If you're uncomfortable, that's okay too." You said, giving him a kind smile. You could tell there was an internal battle. So you gave him a minute.

"Alright that sounds nice. It's a fucking mess under here tho."

You went into your bathroom and found your gentlest scent free soap and a soft towel. Then into your room to find a giant t-shirt and your biggest pair of boxer shorts.

You put it into a nice pile in the bathroom.

"Okay there's some nice soap, it's natural scent free, made of angel's tears or some shit and a clean towel and clothes in there for you."

Wade shifted around you into the bathroom. "Thanks"

You flopped onto your bed and looked up at your glow star collection that littered the ceiling. You heard the water start running and you closed your eyes. Until your herd some very loud and off key Britney Spears. You couldn't help but laugh. Soon enough he was out and flopped onto the bed next to you.

"Man this is the best sleepover ever."

"If this has been your best sleepover with a chick I feel sorry for you. And her." You joked.

"Sorry enough for a pity cuddle." You know what the look he gave you meant. He was testing the waters to see what kind of night this was gonna be. You couldn't help but feel the need to challenge it.

"We could cuddle… or we could do other stuff then cuddle." You'd thought of all the reasons this was a bad idea. But voices weren't loud enough over the sound of your heart beating. He leaned in closer, fingers brushing your cheek.

"You sure that's not a margaritas talking?"

"Very sure." You said eyes locked with his.

"Why now?" It was a good question. One you had to think about.

"I don't think I ever was really myself. Like I was as much of myself as I could be while hurting that much. Now I'm happy and I enjoy things differently"

"Hmmm I noticed that. I think I got to know you more in the past few hours than I had when we were friends. You actually laugh now. At jokes and not just crazy like when things are exploding" he moved his hand to run through your hair and you couldn't hold back a soft moan. It had been so very long since someone had touched you.

You felt his lips press into your forehead. You'd thought about Wade before but he was in a relationship, then she died, and Wade wasn't himself for a long time. You'd figured if you were something he wanted he'd make it clear considering the dude flirted with everyone. You'd always had a secret fear that maybe you went his type. Vanessa was short and very tiny, other than her you were only sure of one other and that was Cable, who was serious, fit, tall, and massive. You were a good height and curvy as all hell. Suddenly you felt self conscious. But then he put his hands on either side of your face tilting your head up to meet his. You opened your eyes and they focused in on his lips. They were so close it caused the air in your lungs to get stuck.

"You're pretty quiet. You sure you wanna try to do other things. We can jump right to cuddling if that's better for right now?"

You looked up to meet his eyes.

"Is that what you want?" You tried your best to have it come out casually.

"Not really."

Your eyes migrated back down to his lips and you shuffled closer. You wanted to kiss him so badly you felt like your body was on fire.

"You can take whatever you want baby"

******************PSA: Dirty stuff below ;)*********************

That's all the permission you needed. You moved in and softly pressed your lips into his, then took things deeper. It didn’t take much for your breathing to become ragged, you were trying desperately to take the kiss further.

Eventually you bit his bottom lip and whimpered, finally he agreed, his hands tightened on your face and your tongues started to battle it out. You wanted to win, so you moved to straddle him. Finally accomplishing some friction between the two of you, you could feel your panties sliding against your wet folds. This only lasted for a few glorious seconds, before he flipped you on to your back quickly moving to pin your arms above your head.

He started moving south leaving a red hot trail of destruction behind him. There was only so much your tank top would allow, Wade seemed very content palming your right breast while biting on the flesh beneath your left collar bone. You on the other hand wanted your goddamn clothes off.

You tried to break his grip and moaned when you realized such a task would only be accomplished by hurting him. He really had you trapped there, a piece of knowledge that only made you want your clothes off more. His grip on your breast tightened and his smirking lips took a long pull on the hardened nub that was poking up benthe the cotton of your top. You couldn't help your back arching. Finally, after paying respects to your other breast, he pulled back to look at you. He squeezed your wrists.

“Stay”

God he was so bossy. Something that divided you internally. A part of you wanted to push it, see how hard he would dig into you, and the other part was desperate to behave and be good. You decided you would be good, for now. He sat up, leaning back on his knees in between your legs. Slowly his fingers brushed across the soft skin of your stomach, then his hands ran up along your torso taking your shirt with them. Feeling his scarred hands trail lightly across you sent shivers through your body. You felt him cup and knead your breasts for a moment before pulling your top over your head. He took a long look at you which made you feel delicious. No one had ever pulled out this side of you before. Kissing down your stomach he stopped at the waistband of your shorts. He took your left leg and used it to flip you over, somehow taking your shorts off at the same time. There you were ass up naked and loving every second of it. His big hands came down to smack your ass, a loud noise of please ran out of your mouth along with most of the air in your lungs. Enjoying the response he did it again then started kneading the flesh.

“Fuck you are so fucking sexy.” You felt his hands slide down to grip the tops of your thighs. You arched your back further resting your head on the bed. “Good girl.” The words hit you like a bullet but before you had time to find your footing his hot mouth was all over you wet folds.

His skilled tongue painting some kind of masterpiece, he was touching you everywhere but where you really desperately wanted it. But this seemed to be the way he operated, and you weren't complaining. After feeling like he had been everywhere, he started to circle that tight ball of nerves and you couldn't help but let out a shout. Pleasure was ripping through your body, things were starting to get hot and tight inside you, when all of a sudden those glorious lips closed in and created some heavenly suction. You couldn't stop your hips from bucking, this earned a heavy slap on your right ass cheek.

“Fuck fuck fuckf cukkkk ah” It quickly became too much, your orgasm hit you like a train, whole body tensing up then finally crashing down. Wade kept up the rhythm letting you ride it out. Finally pulling away when it became too much. He snaked his arm up your front to grab the front of your neck pulling you up on to your knees, angling your face so he could kiss you deeply. Putting on a show of how good you tasted. After a long moment of heated kissing, he positioned you so you were laying on your back again. Giving you a few moments to catch your breath.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked softly.

“Yes please.” you answered politely.

“Alright but, it's everywhere. All over me. So doggy style is generally best for this next part. If you wanna do it that way, I'm also just happy making you scream like this too.”

“Wade, we can stop if you need to. But I would much rather you fuck me like this. Or let me choke on you for a while then fuck me like this. On my back where I can kiss you and love you back. Ya feel me?”

He looked at you with searching eyes. You realized what you said probably sounded a bit off. Love you back probably wasn't the right thing to say, but you were operating with limited brain function at this point.

“This normally doesn't end well for me.”

“Hmmm. What part, how do you like to uh finish?” You asked slightly confused. Wade only laughed.

“That's not the problem, I almost got off just from you screaming like that. No, I just want to make sure you actually enjoy it. It's hard to enjoy things when you are looking up at someone who looks like they lost a fight with an industrial paper shredder that happened to be on fire.”

You snorted.

“Wade I never knew you before, but I’ve wanted you since I met you. Okay? There's no spooky feelings here.” Your words seemed enough to convince him. He leaned in for a soft kiss, one that made you want to misbehave. You pulled the shirt up, running your hands across the well defined muscles of his torso, then broke the kiss to pull it up over his head. You didn't give him a chance to be chatty, you resumed the heavy kiss, palming his erection. He moaned into your mouth. Feeling accomplished, you pulled the boxers off letting his heavy cock slap up against his stomach. You couldn't help but break the kiss, looking down you watched your hand slide over his impressive, throbbing length. You wanted to take him in your mouth, but before you could push him back onto the bed, he was already pinning you in place beneath him.

You felt him slide himself through your heat. Finally lining himself up with your entrance, his thumb set a steady pace on your clit as he pushed into you slowly. You were grateful he took his time opening you up. You let out a strangled sound when he bottomed out, you felt so full. He set a slow pace giving you lots of time to adjust, this only made you more desperate and needy. When he finally decided you’d had enough, you felt his hand squeeze the back of your neck as he set into a ruthless pace.

“FUCK” He was too much, his heavy body keeping you in place as your hips rose to meet every single thrust. you wanted to feel him as deeply as you possibly could. His hot mouth was biting into the flesh at the bottom of your neck. The heat inside you started to build and you were near your breaking point.

‘Wade” You breathed in a high, desperate tone.

“Cum for me baby” And just like that you felt it take over, your hips snapped up and your feet cramped up. You could feel your walls clench around him tightly, and you choked when he pushed through them even rougher than before. That thumb on your clit never gave up, keeping you trapped riding out the waves of pleasure. You felt it take him over, letting out a deep growl you felt him fill you. He held himself deep inside you, moving both his hands so his forearms were on either side of you trying to keep his weight from crushing you.

His forehead pressed against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. Eventually he moved out of you and he flopped onto his back. You got up and quickly went pee and cleaned yourself up. You grabbed another washcloth and went back to clean him up. You realised that getting up might have been a mistake. Wade was on his side with his eyes screwed shut.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked softly and grabbed the sides of his face and kissed his forehead.

“Better now.” He whispered.

“Sorry for getting up, I should have said something. Can I clean you up?” He gave you a strange look, like he was waiting for you to suddenly disappear. He took the washcloth and wiped himself down, you took it back throwing it into the bathroom. You looked down at him hoping that the voices weren't giving him a hard time. You sat next to him holding his hand, giving him some time.

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

“So about those cuddles?” He asked softly, and you wondered how many times people had hurt him or thrown him out.

You got under the light quilt on your bed motioning for him to do the same. He followed you, laying on his back, you tucked yourself into his side, enjoying his big arms wrapping around you. You gave his neck a light kiss.

“I missed you.” you said softly

“You have no idea how bad I missed being around you.”

“I won't leave again, if you wanted to make this either a regular thing… or a proper thing… if you're into that?” You felt a tight ball of nerves in your stomach.

“I’d really like that.” He kissed your forehead. You thought about all the things you would have to do to make this relationship compatible with your new life. But that was a later you problem, right now you were the best kind of exhausted. You both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Thank you again for the request!!!! <3

[theepisceswriter]

Can you do a hot scene with Erwin and Zeke x f!reader with daddy kink, both of the men have a *thing* for her bc she’s such a smarty brat/ a tease. They should’ve be pissed at her but she’s way too playful🤑🤫 I leave the rest to your imagination, love your writing <33 anything you wanna add or change feel free to do it 🤍🥺

Bestie....you fr did something with this request right here. Ily for this and I’m so glad you enjoy my writing, I hope you enjoy this little Drabble!

Synopsis: Set in a modern AU, professor!Erwin and his teacher assistant!Zeke both have the hots for one of their students and decide to invite her over for dinner one night so they can all release their shared tension.

TW: Mature things obviously, fembodied!reader (she/her pronouns), face fucking, oral (fem recieving), degradation, daddy kink, teacher/student, threesome, 18+, MINORS DNI! (these are for the drabble underneath the read more)

Word Count: Google docs was trippin so I wasn’t able to get the word count, but just know it’s a 2k+ mini drabble underneath the readmore 

Headcanons

Let me set the scene for you; Erwin is a professor at your college, teaching a small world history evening class and Zeke is his TA basically, acting as a teacher himself sometimes but mostly doing things like helping grade papers, helping students with their work, or working as Erwin’s fulltime assistant. Needless to say, you interact with the two of them on a daily basis quite a lot and it’s no secret to the other students that you’re most definitely their favorite, taking most of their attention away from everyone else. But they could care less, they’re not as passionate about the class or as eager to learn like you; another factor that drew Erwin and Zeke to you. 

You’re a confident, strong book-savvy student who’s always ready to debate and bicker someone, snarky remarks leaving your mouth in an instant, and Zeke and Erwin always end up being the victim of those. Bickers and debates over information lasting the whole class session almost, either you winning and leaving them red in the face or them winning with a smug expression on their features and you storming out the classroom in annoyance. You all meet each other’s energy so well that you can’t help but clash from time to time, but the three of you do get along pretty well. Many times you’ve found yourself lingering after class to talk with them about everything and nothing like you’re all just good friends catching up. Your bond is definitely an interesting one.

It’s after one of these routine after-class talks that they invite you over formally for once, a dinner at Zeke’s house with Erwin and how could you possibly say no to that? A chance to be alone with your hot history teacher and his sexy teacher assistant.

You didn’t expect to be this nervous as you walked down the corridor leading to Zeke’s apartment yet here you were, fingers fidgeting with the rings on your fingers and your toes awkwardly rubbing against each other the closer you got. All the confidence that made your hips swing from left to right as you entered the classroom like you owned the whole school, the usual overtly confident y/n that they were used to was dwindling down into a nervous wreck. But you couldn’t let them see that, let them know the effect that they had on you, so you swallowed those anxious feelings as if they would be digested by your stomach and let a look of smugness take over your features as you made your way up to the door. Your hand ghosted over the cold wood, curling your fingers into a fist ready to knock but before you could even make contact with the door it was swinging open, greeting you with the sight of a smirking Zeke. He wore slacks with a beige plaid pattern going over them, a creme-colored shirt to match the brown of his pants, and an elongated dark brown coat that brought out the lightness of his round glasses perfectly. 

“You look very nice tonight,” You complimented him for once as you made your way inside the apartment, “Finally you don’t look like a caveman for once.” The joke didn’t go over his head at all, him choosing only to acknowledge it with a dry chuckle. “Good evening to you too Ms. /l/n, You look mighty fine yourself.”

It was then that your confidence came rushing back to you as you remembered the outfit that adorned your body. It was a simple silky champagne pink bodycon dress with a corset-like top, but on you, it fit like a supermodel. The dress hugging every curve and dip on your body and showing off a little more cleavage than expected, your nipples even poking out through the thin fabric, but you couldn’t have picked out an outfit more perfect for this night. The constant glances Zeke took unremorsefully at where the dress stopped at the high of your thighs let you know that it was a great choice. Lips curling up into a smile as you thanked him. 

 “Where’s Professor Smith?”

“Just over here in the kitchen, follow me.”

Is this where being a teacher assistant got Zeke? You couldn’t help but admire the decor and set up of his home as he led you through the hallway and living room to the kitchen where Erwin was standing with his back faced to the two of you, broad shoulders contracting and going back to their original form with every shake of the pan in front of him. He was cooking? That’s something you definitely didn’t expect to see, thinking they’d opt-out for takeout for the night, but it just made the night feel more genuine than it already was.

“I thought I had heard you come in, y/n.” Erwin’s rich and smooth voice infiltrated your ears bringing you out of your thoughts. The same smile on your lips from when you thanked Zeke for his compliment earlier. “And please, leave Professor Smith for school. Call me Erwin.” 

“Erwin.” You repeated with a nod, butterflies erupting in your stomach and your cheeks warming up from the wink that followed after his words. “I’m surprised to see you cooking. I was sure you two would have takeout ready on the table when I came. Probably something cheap too like Chili’s.’ You jabbed at them, taking your place at the table while Zeke situated himself against the arch of the opening of the kitchen. Most people would’ve been offended by such a remark, hurt even, but they were so used to your snarkiness that all they could do was chuckle in return.

“Chili’s? No, Mcdonald’s would’ve been more fitting for you.” Zeke messed with you back, warranting your tongue to stick out at him in a childish manner.

“Calm down children,” Erwin joins in on the teasing as he makes his way to the table with three steaks and bowls filled with sides in his other arm, Zeke going over to help him. Dinner wasn’t too eventful, but it was enjoyable. Most of the time wasted away with the three of you talking about various topics the conversation swayed towards like how you usually did. 

The three of you had decided to relocate to the living room after finishing dinner, now washing it down with a glass of wine as you three sat down silently enjoying each other’s company. But silence wasn’t your forte, so it didn’t take long at all for you to move from your position between them on the couch. Both of their eyebrows raised in confusion as they watched you search around the small area looking for whatever it was you were looking for, not knowing what to expect since you were, well, you after all. 

“Found it!” You announced in a sing-song voice as you shimmied your way over the vintage phonograph vinyl player sitting in the middle of Zeke’s living room that must’ve cost him a fortune. And if it didn’t then the extensive rack of vinyl records sitting next to it definitely did. You squatted down so you were face to face with the rack and if you weren’t facing the other direction you would’ve saw the way both of their eyes immediately traveled down to your ass in the squatting position you were in before blue eyes met brown ones, a silent nod signifying confirmation of some sort between the two. 

Any genre or artist you could think of occupied the shelves, your finger skimming over each and every one until you found one that you craved to hear. Soon the soft melodies of the instruments on the smooth jazz record infiltrated the living room, your body contorting and twisting in a sensual way with each beat that hit your ears. The closing of your eyes really showing how into it you were, arms wrapping around your own body like the two men weren’t watching from not too far away as you put on a show like you were in the comfort of your own room. What a tease, the two men thought to themselves, shifting and manspreading to try and soothe the uncomfortable ache between your legs that you were causing. You knew exactly what you were doing because this wasn’t the first time at all that you had done it. Plenty of times you showed up to class with a shirt on that revealed just a little too much or a skirt that practically put your whole lower body on display, legs spreading purposefully whenever you saw one of their eyes travel to the underside of your opened desk. You did everything in your power to make them succumb to their--no, your desires but it wasn’t until now that they let themselves be selfish.

Zeke was the first one to move from his position on the couch to make his way over to you, calloused hands grabbing at your sides and pulling you closer to his torso as he began to sway along with you, hands moving from your hips and letting them explore the surrounding skin before cheekily slapping your ass and earning a small yelp out of you. Erwin simply watched from the couch, for the time being, still sipping on his wine waiting on his opportunity to slip himself in. 

“I figured this would happen eventually,” Zeke finally spoke up, “I just imagined something a lot less sensual; you bent over the desk in the classroom or something.” 

Before you could counter his words with a sassy remark he moved his lips against yours, gently letting them ghost over yours for a second or two and even going as far as teasing you by rubbing them against yours before he finally indulged you with a kiss. The taste of wine and savoriness from dinner still lingering on both of your tongues as you deepened the kiss. Swirling your tongue around in a way that had precum dripping from the tip of his cock as he thought about how good it might feel if it was there instead, slurping the opaque liquid up. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him and let your tongues explore each other he decided that it was time to pull away, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck where he gently let his teeth graze over the sensitive flesh, warranting a gentle moan from you.

It was like music to his ears and immediately he decided that he wanted to pull more from your plush lips, letting his kisses trail farther down until his lips were over one of your nipples protruding from the silk fabric, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub at a painstakingly slow pace that made you want to shove him away from you completely for denying you pleasure.

“No bra on? What a lewd thing to do, but I wouldn’t expect anything like from someone like you.” He murmured against the fabric.

“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned, still a bite to your tone like earlier.

“A slut.” Erwin answered for him and it wasn’t until now that you noticed his presence from behind you, chiseled chest pressed up against your back and his breath fanning across your neck distracting you from the hand he brought up to rest at the nape at it. His other hand going down to scrunch your dress up around your waist. Revealing your lacy underwear to their doting eyes and especially to Zeke who was now dropping down to his knees in front of you. “She’s soaking fucking wet. Her panties are dripping with wetness.” 

“You think we didn’t notice all your advances? All the times you traded your integrity just to get our attention like the bad girl you are, huh?” Erwin’s hand moved from the nape of your neck to the front of it, gently squeezing it with his hand and forcing you to look up at him. A chastising look on his features as he stared down at you, making you feel so little and small compared to his towering structure.

You had no words to respond to him with, too caught up in a daze in your head thinking that this couldn’t be true, that this was a dream you were going to wake up from in a couple of minutes. But it was the warmth of Zeke’s tongue prodding at your clit that brought you back to your senses, eyes widening in shock as you looked up at your professor. This was really happening.

“Hm, looks like the brat doesn’t have anything else to say.”

“I think I like her better like this anyway.” The blonde between your legs mumbles, sending a vibrational tingle up your spine and leaving your legs wobbling. He was so messy with it, tongue devouring you like you were the 2nd course on the menu tonight. You diverted your eyes down to him for a second, his staring right back up at you as he feverously worked his tongue against you. Your juices mixed with his saliva already wetting your thighs up along with his beard.

“Oh god, that f-feels so good.” You let out in a choked moan, knees daring to buckle on you and make you fall to the floor, but Erwin’s death grip around your torso stopped such from happening. Which you were also grateful, but that also meant you weren’t able to buck your hips up into Zeke’s face or swivel them the way you wanted to; taking away any sense of control you thought you had. It wasn’t too long after that you were releasing all over his beard, wetting it up as your insides clenched around nothing, desperately wanting one of their cocks to stuff you up and satisfy that craving. 

Even after your orgasm, he didn’t stop. The pace of his tongue showed no sign of stopping and just to add to the sweet torture you felt two slender fingers entering your hole, a loud moan emitting from your lips in response. “I can’t take it. Too much.” You let out in a ragged breath.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can give us one more. You can take it. You don’t have any choice matter of fact, you’re going to give us as many as we want from you. Maybe if you weren’t so bratty things would be different.” Mouth too occupied on you, all Zeke could do was hum against you in agreeance. 

“Erwin--” 

“Aht, it’s daddy or professor to you from here on out.” Oh

“Daddy,” You quickly corrected yourself with a whine, “I can’t take it anymore. M’too sensitive. I need more. I w-want you inside of me.” Luckily for you, Zeke’s tongue was getting tired from being on you and he was quick to get off of his knees at your request to Erwin. “Look at the begging slut now. You weren’t like that when you first came. Guess you really are just all bark and no bite.” He teased you, fingers going to your nipples and pinching at them. You couldn’t even reply if you wanted to because his lips were on you like earlier forcing you to taste yourself on your tongue. And to your surprise Erwin joined in as well, leaning over from behind you and inserting himself to make a 3-way kiss that had all your tongues entangled with one another’s; everyone getting a taste of you.

“Zeke go sit on the couch and let y/n return the favor.” The older man spoke up after pulling away. Everyone moving away from such close proximity of each other so you could all go to your positions over on the couch. By the time you turned around to head in that direction Zeke was already sitting on the couch with his cock free and sprung up against his stomach, twitching in your direction as he awaited your arrival. Erwin on the other hand was nowhere to be found, completely gone from your view, but you didn’t let that stop you from making your way over to the bearded mand; dropping on your knees as soon as you were in front of him. 

Your hands move to engulf his thick cock with your hands, jerking it a few times and spreading around the pre-cum that cumulated on his tip before you began to lower your head. You were getting ready to bring his tip past your lips when the feeling of two broad hands gripping the crevice between your stomach and hips stopped you abruptly, presumably Erwin behind you getting ready to do something. You went to look behind you to confirm you suspicion only to be stopped by Zeke’s hand roughly grabbing at your chin forcing you to look up at him again. 

“Nobody told you to stop or look behind you. Get back to work.” It was pathetic how much they were able to break you down in such a small amount of time because without a second thought you did exactly what he told you to do, slipping his cock past your lips and gently sucking on it while simultaneously running your tongue over the flushed tip. “And here I was thinking your mouth was only good for arguing.” He groaned out, earning a chuckle from the other man behind you. 

Without the slightest bit of warning, Erwin is sliding his cock into you from behind, the mixture of Zeke’s saliva and your cum acting as a natural lubricant; allowing him to slip in and out of you as he pleased at a pace that made it so you were gagging on cock without hardly moving your head. Your hips also smacking against your professor’s without even moving them. It was like you were their personal sex toy and no longer one of their students, but this wasn’t even the beginning of it. They were nowhere near done with you. 

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 1

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1161

Summary: You’re Illyrian, and that’s quite the odd sight to see down in Spring. Then you run into someone you’d learned from stories to avoid. And then something weird happens.

Note: Yeah, this was a cursed idea that popped in my head after reading ACOMAF about my man Eris (who is lowkey one of my fave characters). Might not be super accurate to the world since I was just kinda running with the idea, but I’ve read all the books so . . . whatever. Also there’s no set length like some of my others; it’s just gonna run until it’s done. Hope you enjoy!

You weren’t even supposed to be here. As an Illyrian woman, you were there to serve the males of your camp. The fact that you’d been allowed to keep your wings was a shock that was only even brought about by the Night Court’s Lady being your somewhat-removed aunt. The ensuing job within the Hewn City’s walls--just cleaning and cooking, and there were times when you wondered if it was really any better than where you would have ended up otherwise--wasn’t as revolutionary since you also played spy and reported whatever whispers seemed important to the High Lord in a monthly letter. That very High Lord bringing you to serve--spy--at some ball held over in Spring, though, was almost as surprising as the whole situation with your wings. Later, you came to realize that you were meant to be some sort of exotic spectacle.

Either way, you were to pose as Rhysand’s personal attendant (for the other males to gawk at to a degree) while taking careful note of the goings on and servant gossip to aid Azriel later. Your however-distantly-related cousin liked having you close, fortunately. You and Rhysand had always gotten along famously even if you didn’t see each other very often; plus whenever he was around you didn’t have to deal with Mor’s asshole of a father. You’d never liked that man, but the current mess with Autumn . . . The engagement that Mor was desperately trying to escape . . . It left a bad taste in all of your mouths. Needless to say you hated the man for putting her through that.

~

It was when you were taking a breather from the party (leaning against the wall in an unoccupied hall you’d managed to find) that you first met him.

“Not often that we see one of your kind this far South,” a male voice said from some distance away.

Instinctively, your body straightened to full attention as you turned to face him. He was beautiful--a common thing among High Fae, but still--skin just lightly tanned from some activity or another under the sun, fine features and clothes, and deep red hair tied messily atop his head. “You say that like Azriel doesn’t regularly travel these parts.” Should you be challenging him like that? No, definitely not, but then again you spent too much time in the uncivilized depths of the Hewn City to really know how to bite your tongue.

A flush colored your cheeks when the smirk tugged at his.

“But you’re right, my lord, my kind don’t normally venture far from the mountains,” you ducked your head sheepishly, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t punish you for your foolish words. It was clear from his hair alone that he was kin to the High Lord of Autumn, so he’d be well within his rights to have you flogged at minimum.

“My name is Eris, and I’m no lord.” Something flashed in his amber eyes when you glanced up. “Not yet, anyway. But I suspect you already knew that.”

You hadn’t. Beyond a basic description that could have easily been of one of his brothers, you’d heard little about this man, Mor’s betrothed. Finally, your eyes trailed back up to his more confidently. That wasn’t the tone of someone who’d been angered. Again, you probably shouldn’t have done this, but unlike last time you didn’t feel like you could help it. It was almost like something was pulling your gaze upwards. Those eyes were the most unusual golden color you’d ever seen, your mind mused distantly. And that was all you had time to notice before something thrummed through your head.

Eris seemed to experience the same feeling based on the way those beautiful eyes widened like the serving platter you’d carried earlier and the way his jaw fell open slightly. “No . . .” he breathed, horror dawning in his voice. 

“What--”

“Say nothing,” he ordered. Gone was the warmth you hadn’t noticed in his tone until it was missing. Out of habit, you obeyed, so he continued seemingly to himself, “We shouldn’t be seen together . . . Then again no one would think twice about sneaking around with a servant, but someone might remember our faces and fuck us over down the road . . .” His gaze was wild as he fully returned his attention to you. “Tell no one of this, for your own sake,” he implored. “I do not care about why you are truly here,” you almost gasped at the implication that he knew you were spying, “but do not report this to your master.”

You blinked rapidly, dimly aware of the way your wings were tucked tightly to your back because of your fear. “What are you talking about?” you managed to mutter past the anxiety.

His face scrunched in frustration, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose the same way you’d seen Rhysand do a thousand times when Cassian was being particularly stupid. “We have things we need to discuss . . . privately. Will you be able to leave your room tonight?”

“Why--”

“Yes or no?”

“Y-Yes!” you spluttered. “They don’t lock me--”

“Good. There is a clearing in the woods just south of here; you should be able to see it from the sky. You can fly, correct?”

You nodded.

“Meet me there at midnight.” And without another word, he strode off, leaving you standing there confused in his wake.

~

Really, you shouldn’t have been surprised when you entered your tiny guest quarters only to be immediately greeted by the sight of Azriel appearing out of a particularly shadowy corner, but it still sent your heart into a racing rhythm. You’d hoped you would have more time to decide what to do; to tell him about that strange encounter or to keep quiet about that whole thing. Apparently that hope was for naught.

“Anything to report?” he prompted, as quiet as ever. You had no idea how to read his face; you had no idea if he already knew anything.

It took all of your self-control not to nervously twitch your wings. “Nonsensical gossip, mostly,” you stated, voice surprisingly steady. “Nothing particularly useful yet . . .” You hesitated. “Eris . . .”

The spymaster’s already attentive gaze seemed to sharpen. “What about him?”

“He was acting strange.”

“How so? Did he give any indication about his intentions with Mor?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing specific. I ran into him in the hall. Something about the whole encounter was odd; I plan on looking more into it.” There. That should be vague enough that you’ll be allowed to investigate without implicating that your interaction was more than just odd. There was still that strange feeling you hadn’t figured out yet, and it was still scratching at the back of your mind like it wanted you to go somewhere.

“Good,” Azriel was saying. “If he’s having second thoughts, we might be able to free her from this whole scheme.”

“I’m on it,” you announced with no small amount of worry and feigned self-confidence.

[heyitssmiller]

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

.

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

           Hi!

           I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

-        Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

           Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

-        The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

-        Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

           You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

-        Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

           Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

-        The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

[sirensmojo]

“KINDRED”, 1 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Guns, Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Word Count: 5k+

*London*

The man entered the library in a hurry, the door making a grinding sound as he paused for a second, his eyes wandered on the areas as if looking for something. 

Your face popped off the book lying on the table where you had been sitting for almost an hour now. 

Quickly enough, when you caught sight of the individual that had just entered your space, your head went down to the printed lines again as the tip of your fingers were scratching, up and down, the back of your neck. 

You heard footsteps navigating through the shelves to which you paid no mind. It’s only when you heard them walking towards your desk that you tuned your ears to the sound.

A shadow fell over the pages and the clearing of a throat resonated in the peaceful silence.

 You sighed at the interruption and looked up at the intruder. 

Your eyes encountered a not so tall man, wearing an elegant and costly-looking dark blue suit, adorned by a neat long coat. 

He remained silent as he opened his coat with one hand, searching his pockets for something. Your eyes stared at his hand as it came out with a cigarette between two fingertips, which you followed with your gaze to his mouth.

That’s when you finally saw his face and recognized him to be Tommy Shelby.

“Searching the political area” the blue-eyed man voiced, not a single look thrown your way. 

He was too occupied lightening his cig. 

You pointed, nonetheless, at the direction of the section he’d asked. You then, hassled back to your book, not giving him a second glance as you turned a page. 

As you did so, Tommy frowned, squinting his eyes. His focus fluttered from your face to the novel a couple times. 

Afterwards, he puffed on his cigarette and walked toward the politic’s shelves. 

(...)

Book in hand, shaking it proudly he reappeared in front of the desk.

“Found what you were looking for, eh?” You offered him a smile as if you hadn’t totally ignored him several minutes before. 

He chuckled to himself. “I’d like to take that for some hours”. 

“If it’s only for a couple hours...” You begin, pointing at the tables in the corner of the building, near the huge windows.

“you must do what you got to do there. Else, you must pay and keep it for at least three days before returning it” You muttered outright. 

Thomas scoffed, turning towards the tables and stared at them with contempt before he turned back at you. He shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening as if to speak but he didn’t seem to be able to find his words. 

So, with a final frown, he gave up and went back to staring holes into your head. 

You basically just put Thomas Shelby back in his place.

Of course, he knew there were rules, but none of the librarians he has met before actually told them to him.

Too afraid to look a Shelby in the eyes, even more, to surrender them to some rules about borrowing a book. 

But here he was, in front of you that seems not to care what his last name was. 

You let go of your reading, turning it paper against the wood to keep your page. 

Fetching some papers out of the drawer, you began to fill a form with what he recognized to be his name, then as you got ready to write his address, you finally lifted your head and addressed him.

“Would you mind giving me your home location Mr Shelby?” You asked, eyes devoid of emotion.

“Are you going to come and fetch the book yourself if I don’t return it in time, aye?” He returned, tilting his head to the side.

Even if his voice wasn’t capable of wording it playfully, you knew he didn’t take the process seriously. You decided to ignore the peaky blinder and wrote down the address you were well aware of from the very start. 

The man clenched his jaw, watching you write down the address of his mansion as if you knew each other intimately. 

“I’ll do without your signature” You murmured utterly to yourself even though Tommy did hear it. 

“It’s 13 shillings.” You added, staring right at Thomas, not an ounce of fear in your expression. 

He just placed on the table the money he owed and walked away, letting himself turn back to peek at you. 

Some research will have to be done to uncover your identity. He had never until now seen you at the library, although it had been a meeting place for Ada and him multiple times as his sister works here as a counselor.

(...)

Back home, Thomas was met by Lizzie, a shoulder against the frame of the open door, her arms crossed on her chest.

“Pol’ is here, she says she wants to talk to you about Michael”. Her sweet voice contrasting her worried eyes. She was trying to read her husband’s expression.

He walked past her, greeting the maid that indicated to him the presence of guests she had guided to wait in his office. 

“Tommy!” Polly exclaimed, her eyes lit up at the sight of him. 

She had been on Tommy’s side since Michael’s return, but this meeting was leading him up to believe that perhaps, she had finally heard her son out and was here to convince him to do so as well.

Without sparing them a glance, he went behind the large desk and speak to them:

“I’m busy.” 

At the dismissal, Polly’s hopeful face fell.

“There are some things you might want to know”.

At the sound of this voice he had long ago hoped to never have to hear again, his shoulders tensed. Taking his coat off, the two individuals forward him could see the whitening of his tightened hands. Wanting to calm himself down, he lit a cigarette and sat.

After a few strained minutes of silence, during which the other occupants of the room could only stare as Tommy poured himself some whiskey and proceeded to drink it as if no one was there, he finally got sick of seeing their faces, eventuating in him breaking the silence.

“The American gentleman has decided he wants to speak, now.” 

He emphasizes the first words as if to provoke Michael, who knew it wasn’t a question but a statement. So the younger Gray clenches his jaw to remain silent.

“Where’s your wife, Michael?” 

He mockingly said, sipping on the liquor.

“Tommy,” Pol’ warned.

“What? It looks like they make a hell of a couple, ready to take on the world, my business even, eh?” The family leader continues to incite, with a merry tone.

“It’s not like you haven't had your day” Proudly spit his younger cousin, ignoring the staring battle between Tommy and his mother.

The eldest Shelby looked up at Polly’s son with an unreadable expression on his face. He straightened up in his chair and grabbed a cigarette with two of his fingers that he pointed toward the man in front of him.

“See, Michael, you keep saying that you’re willing to take the head of the family business in America out of care for the family. But to me, it looks like you were always lurking at the back, waiting for the moment you’ll be able to take everything for you.” 

He was blankly staring at the younger Gray, waiting for an answer that never came.

Polly’s back stiffened, the insinuation of her son having schemed against Thomas making her unable to even make the slightest move.

She couldn’t blame Thomas for thinking that as it all made sense, but she wouldn’t... couldn’t think her son of being capable of such a thing.

Or at least, that, she wanted to believe.

(...)

Days later, Tommy met with a couple of people, from policemen to bureaucrats, whilst attending the usual business tasks, to learn more about you. 

He had to know if you were a potential risk to his family, after all, you knew his address, what if you communicated it to his enemies, or if you were an enemy?

Not that he thought you were, but something was off. He couldn’t quite yet put his finger on it, but he had a feeling, probably a gipsy thing, he thought to reassure himself. 

The primary reason he got the book was to better study the ascension of different politic’s sides. His actual main focus being to stop Mosley by any means, he needed more knowledge to be able to think of a strategy.

With Mosley, he just couldn’t afford defeat. At least not without giving it a good fight.

Nonetheless, while it began as a business matter, this book gave him an opportunity he would’ve never thought to exist.

(...)

Early in the morning, as he lit up his first cigarette, he heard two quiet knocks at the door. Tommy stood up in a hurry, almost running to the front door, a hand grabbing his gun as he uncocked the safety. 

Nobody knew about this house except the family, and it was far too early for a Shelby to come and visit.

The blue-eyed man took a peek through the window, before opening the door. Gun pointed toward the individual’s head, the tip of it centred right between the brows, Tommy exhaled. 

“I’ve been expecting that book for two days..” the figure paused, sliding a hand in their suit pocket to glance at their watch.“... and 5 hours exactly”.

One of their brows lifted at Shelby’s lack of reaction. Who other than you could it be?

Without a word, you entered the house, your heels echoing against the walls of the elegant mansion’s hall. You looked around as if to confirm that you indeed were inside the house of the famous and feared gangster.

“How about you put down the gun, eh.” You commanded, turning around to look him in the eyes as a snicker slipped through your painted lips. 

“Well, Y/F/N, what do you fucking want?”He was holding the gun steady, ready to shoot whenever, whatever.

“Huh, you researched me. That warms my heart” You mockingly let out, disdain in your voice. “I bet you have questions. So? Did my several years as a nurse at the war impress you, Mr Shelby, or perhaps my calling for illegal & criminal activities?”

You scoffed at yourself. By enunciating those things he probably knew already, you showed him you weren’t impressed he researched you.

“Anyway, all this fuss isn’t necessary.” You tried to convince him again, but this time, your hand went flat on the top of the gun still pointed towards you and pushed it down very softly, taking the blue-eyed man’s hand in yours.

At the touch of your skin, an electric current ran down his spine making Tommy step back. 

Your eyes flickered a quick instant, a curious gleam making them shine. He wondered if you too had felt it.

“Plus, I heard you have children? We wouldn’t want them to see their father holding a gun.” You simply put.

He let you pass him by and continue your walk out of the house, toward the garden.

Coming back to himself, Tommy realized he hadn’t blinked for a whole minute. He exhaled deeply and put back the gun in his shoulder holster. 

It was only when they reached the little table, that the peaky blinder allowed himself to take a closer look at the stranger sitting in front of him. 

Your suit was dark-blue, ornamented with stripes of lighter grey complimented by the various golden rings that adorned your fingers. 

You hair fell beautifully on your shoulders, framing your face. 

His eyes finally reached yours that were underlined by charcoal liner and your E/C iris were shamelessly staring into his heathen soul.

Tommy had heard of the English political party that shook traditions about women, norms and rights. And from the masculine way you were dressed up to the way you refused to fit women’s 20’s haircuts, he thought you might've been a member of the Women’s Social and Political Union. 

Once again it was his intuition talking to him. If he was right and that you were into politics, that means you could be useful in Mosley’s downfall. 

He had to figure out a way you two could get along. 

“What business do you have in Birmingham?” Tommy managed to word even though he is not used to be the one initiating talking.

“I was born here. But ‘am also the owner of the London library where you borrowed your book. And I came here to give the first warning.” You playfully returned, lighting up a cigarette. 

So you were the new owner of the library Ada mentioned when he questioned her. But it just couldn’t be it.

“What? Don’t you think there is enough criminal in here for me to join ‘em, Thomas?” You said as if knowing he didn’t believe you were here solely because of a library. You were reading his silence with a disconcerting facility and it started to get on Tom’s nerves.

“You’re not from here, War Service Record mentioned you were from Paris--”

“My father. I, myself am very much from Birmingham.” You snapped back without even letting the Shelbys head reach the end of his sentence.

Noticing the annoyance all over your face, he felt a sudden need for fresh air aching in his chest. He grabbed a cigarette and ignited it quickly. 

Your mysterious stare was still persistent, almost making the Shelby brother uncomfortable. 

“Is that all, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Call me Y/N. And yes, That’s all.” You got up, ready to leave.

“Then, Miss Y/F/N,” He emphasized your full name as if to put a distance between you two “the next time you step foot in my mansion without being invited to do so, it’ll be a bullet to the fucking head.”

You leant forward as your hands laid flat on the table. You were so close, he could feel your warm breath on his skin. And as you placed your lips to his ear:

“If you ever again point a gun at me, better aim right cause if you don’t, I’ll shoot back and I don’t miss, Tom” You patted his shoulder. 

The Peaky Blinder didn’t know what annoyed him the most, the words or the touch, although if being honest with himself, he would admit the touch wasn’t as annoying as he wanted to believe.

A torrent of thoughts overwhelmed him as he slowly processed the words you had murmured to him. It wasn’t a menace, it was worse than that, it was a promise.

“I’ll be looking forward to your visit, Mr Shelby.”

He stood up, but you were already far away, your coat flailing behind you.

(...)

On an evening, coming back from London, Tommy got home, walked through the hall, joined the dining room and looked at Lizzie that was already sitting at the table:

“Dinner will be without me tonight.” He said, putting on his béret.

“Where are you going?” She asked, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heels and walking outside. “You agreed on letting me in sometimes, Tommy.” She urged as she followed him.

“Well, Lizzie, I’m trying to make today a good day.” He coughed away anything his wife could want to object. 

He drove to the old yet refined London’s building. After he parked, he paused to look intently at the imposing glass doors. 

The building hadn’t always been this huge library. Actually, the last time he was here, it used to only occupy the first floor, but it seems the new owner had bigger plans. 

Now, the whole structure had been remodelled, bookshelves could be seen through the wide windows on all 3 floors, the fourth one had a soft light emitting from it and from where he was, the Shelby brother could see a shadow pacing back and forth.

Only five days had passed since you came to the manor and pressure Tommy with your fearless fierceness, and he could see the arrangement work was almost done. 

While workers were leaving the library, Tom was getting in and envied them as their headache would disappear as soon as they walked out, whereas Tommy’s appeared as soon as he walked in.

He somehow felt like talking to you would be worse than a full day of work.

He opened the heavy doors and as he was approaching the desk, noticed a golden plaque on the nearest wall:   

 Floor 1. Novels.

Floor 2. Science.

Floor 3. Politics.

Tommy paused and read the plaque a second time. 

He counted four floors, didn’t he?

Why would they omit the presence of a fourth one when it was clear someone was up there. The absence of its mention aroused his curiosity, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as a voice approached him.

“Hello, sir, this’ a library. The pub’s the other side o’ the street.” Said the woman with judgment underlining her strong accent.

Tommy looked at her, dismissing her insult by a cough, as he waved the object in his hand.

“Came to return it.” He placed the book on the table, the tip of his fingers patting its cover as the woman put on a fake smile.

“A name?” The voice resonated, its owner opening the drawer full of files.

“Shelby.” 

At the mention of the name, the desk woman raised her eyes to the man standing in front of her and blinked a couple times before glancing at the stairs against the furthest wall. “The fourth flo’, you’re expected.” She leaned toward Thomas murmuring as if telling a secret.

“Fourth floor?” He repeated to himself. So he was right, the top of this building was indeed occupied.

As he wondered who the mysterious shadow he saw earlier belonged to and what might wait for him there, his attention instinctively drifted to Miss forced-smile again. 

She was staring at him as if he owed her something, so he lifted a brow at her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’ll need a pound.” She simply put. 

“‘S’cuse me?”

“The book, Mr Shelby. It’s the penalty.”

He scoffed at the revelation, the woman staring at him until he placed the pound on her desk. She then started filling the returning paper without a second glance to the peaky blinder.

(...)

The fourth floor was a never-ending corridor with brown and cream patterns on the walls that led to an imposing wooden door. 

Apprehension seizing him, Tommy frowned. He wasn’t sure he could trust that fucking desk lady, but the adrenaline led him to knock anyway.

“It’s open.” Stated a distorted voice.

Tommy entered the room, stumbling on a vast sophisticated office.

Classical music could be heard in the background, variations of piano only. Golden framed paintings were hanging on the wooden decorated walls, matching the golden details of the little marble table on his right. 

It was encircled by two leather armchairs and an opulent lion paw sofa. 

On the counter against the opposite wall rested a collection of fancy glass-bottled alcohol and near it was a snifter cabinet.

Ahead of him was a large sculpted desk with an artistic lamp enlightening loads of papers. A desk nameplate indicated Tommy was in your office. His eyes lift to the familiar face. 

“Here you are,” You muttered, getting up from your chair, your heels making a muffled noise on the seemingly expensive carpet. 

A folder in one hand, a cigarette in the other, you passed by him, so close you briefly touched. Your bewitching perfume filled the man’s nostrils with fragrance as his gaze followed you going to the door to close it. 

“Whiskey? Irish, right?” You spoke, joining the counter and pouring two drinks.

For the first time since the blue-eyed man entered the room, you looked up to him. 

“Perhaps Mr Shelby lost his tongue?” You asked with curiosity. 

You looked surprised by Tommy’s lack of enthusiasm as if you were waiting for him to ripost when you cast the barb.

“Is being rude pre-required to work in this library?” He ignored your previous comment.

You frowned in what seemed to be confusion, but quickly smiled in understanding. “Oh, right, Ana. I take it she left quite an impression.”

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head at your ridiculous reaction.

“You do realize that she’s supposed to be welcoming, and not make you want to leave and never return, right?”

You laughed leaving Thomas aghast. “Ana’s not the desk lady. She was only here because I trusted her to send you my way, and she did.” You said with a satisfied smile on your face.

While Shelby was surprised at the first half of your sentence, curiosity took over at the second half. “So this is the first of your gangsters I’ve met, a woman.” 

You knew Tommy wasn’t the type to diminish women’s work according to what you read about him, you surmised it was more to gauge your reaction to him talking about your organisation, which you were fine with.

“All of ‘em, women.” You accentuated your words, mimicking disgust.

He let out a snort, but you kept on as if you hadn’t heard him.

“I bet if you tried to know her you would in fact, like Ana.”

Raising his eyebrows at your admittance, Tommy decided to drop the light talk and get to business.

Even though he was still quite taken aback by the settings of this meeting he hadn’t forgotten the thing he wanted from you. 

He knew you were “prosperous” according to his readings, but this office showed him the chosen adjective didn’t do justice to reality.

“I want to deal with Mosley, Miss Y/L/N. And I’d like to believe you’re here to do the same.” His grave tone filled the room.

“Call me Y/N,” your arm invited the man onto the sofa. 

You handed a cup to the peaky blinder that gladly took it before moving to him with your own and the folder that you dropped on the table while sitting. “here is a list of every man you need to keep an eye on in order to accomplish your plan safely.”

He looked over to you at the announcement of his plan. Of course, you were informed, of course, you weren’t only here for a library. 

He took the file and started to flip through the papers, his index patting on a specific name. He glanced you. 

“Michael Gray” He read out loud.

“You have to know Captain Swing from the occupied six counties and I had met a couple times. I found it funny how you ignored the fact your cousin, who had lost nearly $2 million in America, was serenely aboard the SS Monroe in Belfast dock, plotting with men that want you dead.  Some representatives from County Tyrone and Glasgow UVF--”

“She told me.” Tommy cut you as if he wanted to dismiss the call he had with Captain Swing.

You, aware of what he was trying to do, continued to remind him where his cousin’s betrayal began.

“They were talking ‘bout how they’d divided up the English racetracks after they’d blown away your legs.” 

You were intently looking at him, accentuating some words as if to show the urge for him to realize the gravity of the situation.

Tommy wasn’t waiting on a specific call that day, so he knew trouble was coming when the operator told him the call was from Belfast. 

But God, it was worse than anything that could be expected. 

A certain Captain Swing captured his cousin that was returning from America. She said he was dealing with some men that were Shelby’s enemies, talking about his downfall and the benefits of it. 

She offered him two options: Put a bullet in the head of Michael right away or send him “home”, to Birmingham.

Tom did choose the second one... after a long minute of thinking.

“And may I ask… why are you doing me this favour?”

The woman on the phone clicked her tongue before responding, 

“Because, Mr Shelby, we’ve been informed by people at the very highest level, that since your conversion to socialism, you’re now on the side of the angels. And angels can be useful to us.” 

The last thing the peaky blinder heard was the line disconnecting.

“People at the very highest level, eh. So it was you.” He chuckled to himself, getting up to face the windows. 

He placed a hand into his coat searching for something and as he did so, you placed your fingers on your gun that was still in your shoulder holster. 

Even if he didn’t show it, it was clear the news startled him, and you didn’t know what he would do next, you had to be ready.

“You spied on me.” He turned to you and you let go of your gun seeing he pulled out his cigarette case, an unreadable expression on both his face & tone.

As if he needed time to discuss internally with himself, he lit a cigarette and smoked half of it before exhaling deeply, rubbing a hand on his face. 

You waited patiently for the expression of the Shelby brother to tell you you could go on. Even if it wasn’t an easy task to understand or read Thomas Shelby, you were arrogant enough to think you succeeded at it.

“You did it too. You’re just not used to being searched the way you research others.” You managed to slide your hair from one shoulder to the other, to light a cig. 

“You get used to it.” You assured him, inhaling as much smoke as you could. 

“Listen, you don’t get the right to erase crucial information because it’s about a member of your family. He is a threat that needs to be dealt with, Thomas. I know you trust no one, even less me, you have no reason to, but I’m saying it anyway because I want you to understand that not every time you do something right, innocent people have to die.” 

As soon as he heard your last words, he turned to you, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t worded yet.

“Who’s going to die?” He muttered.

“We are to be partners, so I’ll give you an ounce of who I am: my father died at the beginning of the war, leading me to enter it. When I joined the nurses I wanted to die, just like him. He was all I ever had, I didn’t think I could be anything without him. You damn know war, so I’ll skip to what happened after: I came back. I’ve failed to die, but my profile caught the eye of a police officer. He saw I could use my head and logic to know my enemy’s strategy and predict their next move. So I worked for him nearly one year before I killed him.”

You totally ignored Thomas' question, hoping your monologue will keep Tom’s mind busy so he’d forget what you previously said, and it worked. 

Tommy’s face met with your piercing-eyes as you shrug.

“Corruption. Soon enough, the police department found a bounty killer in me.” You stop at Shelby’s scoff. He shook his head, brows raised as reaching for his alcohol. He then led his cup to his mouth and drank it in one go.

“Didn’t you find that?” Your high-pitched tone expressed your surprise.

“Nah.” He clicks his tongue. “So you’re a copper?”  You shook your head.

“I stayed in Paris, as I already had quite a reputation there. People respected me despite my gender, so I was able to do most things women are forbidden to do. On one hand, I was still a bounty killer with some girls, on the other hand, I’d started a counterfeit money’s enterprise. And given all of my options there, I opened a bar for women to debate and learn. It wasn’t easy as I wasn’t married, there was no man to “tame” me as high society people said, but I managed to buy a racetrack, and with a little bit of fighting, gave women the opportunity to bet. And even if I fought for the women’s cause, men liked my face along with what I represented... “ Thomas' stare got heavier as questions came to his mind at almost each of your sentences.

“I used their attraction towards me to get what I wanted. And ultimately, I entered politics.” You sipped on your drink.

“You forgot to mention you being a librarian, aren’t you, Y/N?” It was the first time he’d called you that, but it somehow felt natural. 

As you smirked looking away, he could tell you’d noticed how good your name sounded on his lips.

“It only helps for the public image. People like to ask questions about your income sources if you hadn’t noticed. And for people like us, it’s better to have sturdy explanations.” You served yourself another full cup of whiskey.

“Was it the chase of gangsters that made you like whiskey over gin, eh?” Tommy teased you.

“Are women solemnly allowed to drink gin, Mr Shelby?” You raised a brow at him, curiously waiting on his answer. 

“You were indeed a suffragette.” He firmly stated, nodding to himself.

“Bonne intuition *speaking french*(=good intuition). That’s good.” You were pleased. 

“I, when leaving Paris, was told to beware of you. ‘The bastard thinks’ were their exact words. Even out the borders, people know the peaky boys.” You gave a faint smile while Tommy chuckled, smoking his cig.

“We’re going to need it for this new war.”

“Need what?

“Instinct.” You got up, turning up the volume more. When back, you filled Tommy’s glass. You found the man looking through one of the windows, arms crossed in his back.

“Not so sure it works that way around here.” 

You joined him, handing him his cup. He stepped aside, putting a certain distance between you. You were faster than he to noticed.

“All the big cities work the same, Mr Shelby. I’ve been here before, once you know the flaws in one of ‘em, you know the flaw in ‘em all.” You assured him with confidence, stealing the man’s cigarette from his lips.

You stepped into his space.

“You’ve been here before, hm. And what part of your business does this library cover for?” The peaky blinder took his cup from your hand.

He stepped into your space.

“The right question is not ‘what part’, rather ‘what business does this library cover for?’. I branched out, remember? Like you should.”

Tommy was uncomfortable regarding the turning of the meeting.

“Do you like music, Mr Shelby? I, meself enjoy very much Erik Satie. He was french and died in Paris a couple years ago, unfortunately. I’ve met him, several times in fact, at some events such as festivals, ballets, theatrical performances, and other fancy evenings, you know?” You were restlessly talking, seeking any emotion in Tom’s face.

Even if his primary idea was to come and suggest that the two of you could work together, he didn’t think this would’ve been this easy to convince you, or that you would be so open about yourself, you didn’t behave the same as you did during your previous meetings, which confused Tommy.

“No--No, I don’t know, I was born gipsy, not born with a silver spoon in me mouth” His tone filled with sarcasm, he caught you staring at him. You didn’t release the look, nor did he.

“I wasn’t either, I just worked my way up there.” You handed back the cigarette to Tommy.

He glanced at you that was standing beside him, you were now looking at the movements in the street with an unreadable face.

“Guess politics offer diverse opportunities?”

You were fierce, without a doubt, but for some reason, your guards were down this evening. Perhaps this meeting established your partner status?

“Would you drive all the way to Westminster in London to talk every week at the House Of Commons, if not?” You retorted a brow raised high.

So you were aware of his position there... It wasn’t too much to say your whole character was a mystery to him. 

Sometimes you were head-on & aggressive, sometimes you seemed confident and serene. But overall, you were aware of yourself and everything you might be concerned about. 

You knew how to collect information and use it to your advantage. He didn’t doubt you were smart, but the best thing he’d seen about you so far was your patience. 

You knew everything would fall into place as you handled it with a tight hand, so you weren’t rushing over anything nor slipping key information to demonstrate your power. 

You used them at the right time, always reminding the people working with you that you were to be taken seriously.

The more he knew about you, the more emotions were settling in him. Which didn’t happen in a long time. 

He couldn’t even get something as basic as sleep, so how could he afford to feel things? But here he was, his heart fluttering at the idea you were maybe what he was looking for: a man that he couldn’t defeat. A woman, innit.

He was reassuring himself thinking “it’s only business” when catching his thoughts drifting to the tornado that you were, but as you succeeded to impress him every time, he admitted there was something about you that was calling him.

“You’re on your own?” The words left his mouth softly.

“Beg pardon?” You drank your drink taking your time, appreciating the burning spreading in your chest. 

“You’re in town by yourself, no one to call family then?” Tom tried to cover his thirst to know more.

You didn’t respond right away, looking into the liquid in your drink as if searching for the answer there. You were unreadable again.

“I am.” You finished your cup.

The man didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring at you, his deep blue eyes searching your soul in the slightest of your move or expression as a peaceful silence settled between you. 

Following Chapter ❱

[enthusiasticharry]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓  |  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 13.3k 

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : ahh, it is finally here! i honestly can’t explain how excited i am for you all to read the first part of checkmate, it truly is one of my lil’ baby. a few things before i shut up and let you read, the chess maybe confusing to some of you (me too at some points) but you only need to take not on whether she wins or not really. this is enemies to lovers, so harry is a bit of a *ahem* dick but what do we expect? this is just the first part and a brief introduction (brief? 13k words? okay hannah, ahah) but i truly do hope you enjoy :) 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, main characters being horrid to each other and the ol’ banger of sexism in chess (the background on this is insane) 

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 here

Upon entering the village hall, YN realised a few things. The first thing she realised was that after casting her eyes around the large room she was in, she certainly didn’t feel as though she fit in. The second thing she realised was that the clock was ticking and if she didn’t speed up, she was probably going to miss the slot to put her name down for the tournament. Taking a few steps forward, thoughts fluttered around her head about whether or not this was the best idea. She hadn’t played the game in a few years with other people, and here she was, about to put her name down to play the biggest tournament closest to her, in one of the neighbouring towns.  

After a few seconds, she knew that she would be not only letting herself down, but also her grandmother and if she wasn’t doing this for herself, then she was certainly doing this for her grandmother. 

A desk had been set up at the front of the hall, and two men wearing crisp beige shirts sat behind it. Why they were wearing beige of all colours? YN would never know. They certainly didn’t look like the most inviting people to greet her. She peered behind them for a few seconds, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of the rows upon rows of square tables with green and white chessboards sat on top of them. She hadn’t seen this many chessboards in one room for a long time, and a part of it made her feel quite comfortable. The people that were already there were all stood in a group around what she presumed was a chessboard — she was just making a wild guess that it was that, but she had a slight suspicion that was the case. It was at this point she noticed the ‘SIGN UP HERE’ sign that was placed in front of one of the men, and that was who she walked up to. 

He obviously noticed that she was there, but he never lifted his eyes up from table in front of him, “Name?” 

YN was taken aback by how gruff his voice sounded, and more so by the way he spoke to her without even lifting his eyes, “YN YLN.” 

It was at this point that he did look up, and so did the person sat next to him. It was at this point she, also, started to feel a little more out of place than before, as though the eyes upon her were ridiculing her for just being stood there. If her name hadn’t tumbled from her lips, being the way that it is, would they have even looked up at her? She would never know. 

“The dance class has been rearranged for another night.” The man is quick to say, dropping his eyes back to the desk in front of him. 

“I’m not here for the dance class.” She says, lifting her hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “This is the chess tournament, is it not?” 

YN watched as the men turned to look at each other briefly, the one who hadn’t spoken to her shrugging his shoulders before they turn back to look at her again, “Do you own a clock?” 

She shakes her head, “I don’t.” 

The men, yet again, turn to look at each other. She wasn’t quite sure why she needed to own a clock, but if it was the first question they asked after her name, she was sure that it must have some significance in the games she was about to play. Would she have to invest in a clock of all things with her non-existent money? 

“There’s a clock-sharing system here.” He says, “If you don’t have one, you’ll have to share with your opponent and if they don’t have one, come back to us and we’ll borrow you one.” 

“Thank you.” She nodded her head.

When YN was younger, and she learnt how to play chess, she was never taught about clocks. Her grandfather had taught her by giving her endless amounts of books that he had stored away in the back of the bookshop that he owned that had nobody wanted, or ones that he already had. At first, YN didn’t want them either. At the time she was gifted them, she didn’t do much with her days apart from stare out of the window of her small attic bedroom, watching the clouds as they floated past in all their different shapes. She’d often try and see if she could spot any shapes within the white, but she could hardly bring herself to do so most days. It had taken her three days to finally pick up the books that her grandfather had left for her, and even then she only stared at them. She suspects that a part of her just wasn’t ready to read the books yet, and she was okay with that. 

When she did open the books, YN fell in love with them, and more importantly she fell in love with the game of chess. Learning about different experts and grandmasters and analysing their games so much that she could remember every move they made, and even critique them if they made a mistake that she had spotted. She remembers the first ever passage she read about chess even to this day, in the book that rested upon the top of the pile her grandfather gave her: ‘Chess for beginners: a guide to the game.’

What is Chess? 

Chess is a two player game, that requires skill and patience. Each player starts with sixteen pieces played on a square board, made of 64 smaller squares. The sixteen pieces include: eight pawns, two knights, two bishops, two rooks, one queen and one king. The goal is for each player to try and checkmate their opponents king. Checkmate is a threat to the opposing king which no move can stop, therefore ending the game. 

The game is taken in turns, each player moving their pieces to different squares on the board. One player (playing “white”) and the other (playing “black”), must move the pieces sticking to the rule of how they move, they can’t just go rogue! White will always start the game, and the player playing white will be lucky to be doing so, because they always have an advantage! 

That was the passage that first introduced her to chess, and if it wasn’t for that passage, she doesn’t believe she’d love the game as much as she does. It was a passage that gave her the basics, and also intrigued her to know all about the rest of it.  

“I forgot to ask.” The man starts speaking again, “What is your rating?” 

“I don’t. . .” She starts, shaking her head, “I don’t have a rating.” 

“Listen, sweetheart.” The man says, and she has to stop herself from physically shuddering at the name he gives her, “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“I am.” 

He shakes his head, letting out a long sigh as he does so, “We don’t have a women’s section.” 

She tries her hardest to not let it show that the words that he says don’t sit with her in the right way, “That shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“I’ll put you in the beginners section, then.” He says, jotting something down again, “You’ll be comfortable there.” 

“I’m no beginner.” She says, “And I don’t want to be comfortable.” 

The thing that annoyed YN the most wasn’t the words that he said to her, even though those did annoy her more than she could explain, it was the way that they looked at her. They looked at her as though she wasn’t good enough to play, as though she shouldn’t be putting her name down for  chess competition and she should have been looking for the dance class instead. If they actually knew her (she didn’t want them too) they would know that dancing certainly wasn’t for her, she had two left feet at most. 

A few years ago, back when she played chess regularly, she wouldn’t have even cast an eye in their direction, never mind allow it to effect her in the way that it is. The first time she played someone that wasn’t her grandfather, it had been the top player from the local chess team he played for. If she remembers correctly, the game was over in all of thirty-two moves, and she didn’t even break a sweat. Her opponent, however, definitely had broken a sweat and she could tell that by the way he kept rubbing his forehead and by the way his leg bounced up and down. It was quite annoying, and it was probably why it took YN thirty-two moves and not her average of twenty-six, but it was still very impressive of the young girl. The thing that she had when she was younger, though, was no care for what other people thought of her as young girl playing chess, because it was a game that tested your skill and not your gender. 

“You’re an unrated player.” He shrugged, “I’ll have to put you in beginners, with players that have ratings under 600.” 

YN hadn’t taken much notice of ratings in Chess Weekly, the magazine that she got the majority of her chess knowledge, and the thing that had lead her to find out about the tournament in the first place, but she had picked up that ratings only start to become important when you become an expert, and that’s when the rating is over 2000. 

“Do beginners still get a prize?” She asks. 

“Yeah.” He says, “But it’s only fifty.” 

She was doing this for the money, and she knew that fifty wouldn’t be enough for her to continue on the way that she was. She needed more, and the prize that Chess Weekly had listed was more than fifty pounds, and that was what she was going for. 

“And the other section? What is the prize for that?” 

He took a second to answer. 

“Two-fifty.” 

That was the prize that she had seen in the magazine, and that was the one that she had set her hopes on winning, the one that she had every belief that she would win if she entered. She needed the money. Her grandmother needed the money. It was hard after her grandfather died, hard for them to conjure up the money to not only pay the bills for the house, but also pay for new stock in the bookshop. No matter how many times YN had tried to convince her grandmother that the best thing to do was to sell the bookshop, and give them some money to make them feel a little more comfortable, her grandmother always refused. The bookshop was her husbands livelihood, and YN grew to understand that and grew to know that was why she wouldn’t give up the shop, no matter how much they needed the money. It was the reason why YN was here, trying to win the grand prize that would help them a little more with their struggles. 

“Can I go into that section?” She asks, and the man’s lips part slightly. 

“Well—“ He clears his throat, casting his eyes to the man next to him, “There isn’t a rule to say that you can’t.” 

“Then put me in that section.” She says, ignoring the looks she receives from both of the men, “Please.” 

He nods his head, “That’ll be five pounds please.” She drops the note upon the table, which he immediately takes and places in the small tin he has with him, “Thank you. Play starts in Twenty minutes.” 

“Thank you.” 

The man passed her a card to fill out and a pencil, “All the luck to you, sweetheart. There’s two players in there with ratings over 1600, and there’s also an expert!” 

“Is the expert playing?” She asks.

He shakes his head, “He isn’t.” 

“Then I don’t have anything to worry about.” She offers him a small smile, “Thank you, again.” 

She walked away from the table, taking a few steps until she wasn’t in earshot of the two men. The entire conversation rested heavily on YN’s mind, but at least she made it out of the other side relatively unharmed. She looked down at the card she had been given, with her last name scribbled on the top line and a space for her to put her rating. She uses the small pencil she had also been given to draw a large zero in the box, sighing with happiness after she’d done so. There was still a large group of people stood around a board, and it was at this time that she decided to make her way over to the large group. 

What she was about to walk into, she wasn’t quite sure, but she couldn’t help but be curious about what it was. She found a nice position by an opening, where she could see two men sat at a table, with a round of chess already on the go. 

“Who are they?” She whispers to the man next to her, without even an ounce of hesitation in her voice. 

“That’s Harry Styles. He’s an expert.”  He immediately whispers back, “And that’s Mitch Rowland, he’s a tournament win away from becoming an expert too.” 

She thinks that Harry Styles is the one to the left of her. The way he sits with his elbows either side of the board, his face stern as he moves the pieces in front of him. They were moving them very quickly and she presumed that they were playing skittles, or on simpler terms: speed chess. YN wasn’t the biggest fan of speed chess, but from the way the man kept picking up piece upon piece without so much of hesitation, she guessed that not only was he the expert, but he must also a skilled speed chess player. She had a talent for spotting the best players out of a bunch, even if there weren’t the best to start with. 

“And over.” 

Her lips part slightly as she hears the northern drawl slip out of his lips, in a deep voice that she certainly hadn’t expected. He looked a tad older than she was, but that was a given, seeing as though everyone in this room looked older than she was. He looked to possible be in his late twenties, and apart from his curly brown hair that peaks her attention at first glance, the chunky rings that sit on quite a few of his fingers or the brown knitted jumper he has upon his torso also do so. It certainly wasn’t a conventional look upon the majority of chess players that she had met before, even though the number was limited. She wondered whether it was the slight roll at the neck, or the green detailing on the arms that drew her attention in more than his fluffy brown curls. 

“You’ve done it again, H.” 

The man who you were guessing to be Mitch replies, extending his hand out to shake his opponents hand. From the shortened use of his name, she wondered whether or not they knew each other. If they didn’t, then it certainly wasn’t the most conventional way to greet a stranger having just lost to him. The two of them stood up, and that was when she noticed the high-waisted lime-green trousers that he also wore, pairing them with a pair of vans of all things. He looked more put together than the rest of the men in the room, which wasn’t too hard to do given the rest of the outfits within the room. The group disperses soon after, and its at this point she noticed the bulletin board being put up. 

YN tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and makes her way over to the board. Once she sees a man stood there, finishing pinning the last through names up, she can’t help the words that slip out of her lips, “How do they arrange the pairings?” 

“Usually by rating first round.” He says, closing the plastic covering that maintains the board to be in the way he had put it, “Then winners play winners, losers play losers.”

He walks off after that, and that’s when she finally spots her name: 

‘YLN - Unr - White’ and it was next to, ‘Jones - Unr - Black’ 

She was at first shocked to be playing white, and second shocked that she was playing someone else who was unrated. The men at the table must have really been giving her a hard time if someone else who was unrated was playing in the main section. It just proves that the two of them were really out to make it so she wasn’t supposed to play in the game because she was unrated, but she knew it was really because she was a woman and she knew that. 

It said that she was playing on board twenty and after flicking her eyes around the rest of the boards, she realised that it was the last board. It was just another thing that she knew was because she was an unrated woman. She just hoped that whoever her opponent was wouldn’t mind that she was a woman. Chess, as much as it was a sport played by both women and men, it was a sport that still held the misogyny that women shouldn’t play in tournaments against men, because they didn’t have the skill that men did, even though the majority of women had the same skill, or were more skilled, they just never had the opportunity to show it. YN swore that if she did manage to play chess, she wouldn’t allow the watchful eyes of judging men to put her off. 

So far, she wasn’t doing a good job of doing that. 

When she walked over to board twenty, she was shocked to find a women sat at the opposite side of the table from where she was about to about to sit. 

“Hello.” The girl says, standing up and holding her hand out for YN to shake, which she does, “I’m Sarah Jones.” 

“YN YLN.” She replies, sitting down across from her, “Um, do you have a clock? I don’t have one and I was told to ask.” 

“Oh!” The girl immediately picks up her bag that was rested upon the floor and lifted a large wooden rectangular block out of it, one with two clock faces on it and two small buttons on the top, “I do.” 

As awkward as YN felt, she knew that if she was to understand the concept of clocks, then she would have to open her mouth and ask, “Can you explain to me how they work?” 

“Sure!” Sarah smiles as though she can’t contain her excitement to explain what YN didn’t understand, “The clock nearest to you is yours. We both have ninety minutes each to play the game, if you’re still playing by the time the little red flag comes down then you’ve lost. Once you move, you click the little button on the top of your clock and that starts your opponents time.” 

“Thank you.” She smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sarah smiles back, and suddenly YN feels at ease in the girls presence, “I wish I had somebody to tell me these things when I first started. I did learn, slowly, but it would’ve been nice to have a little more help when I first started.” 

“I’ve been playing for years.” YN’s quick to say, just to make sure that the girl knows that she isn’t a complete imbecile when it comes to the game, “This is just my first tournament.” 

“How exciting!” She gushes, “This is my third. I’m waiting for my rating to come through. They aren’t as quick with women’s ratings as they are with mens.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” YN says, a hint of humour within her voice. Sarah chuckles and YN can’t help the little smile that falls over her cheeks, “I’ve been here less than an hour and they’ve already tried to make me feel smaller than I am because I’m a woman.” 

“Get used to that.” Sarah offers her a small smile, “Your turn first.” YN’s about to pick up a piece when Sarah moves to say something else, “Another thing I’ve forgotten to mention! Games in tournaments are touch move.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“If you touch a piece, you have to move it.” YN nods her head and looks back down at the board, taking in the board briefly before she made her decision.

 “Do you press your button to start my time?” YN asks. 

“Yes.” Sarah smiles sheepishly, reaching forward to press the small button, “Sorry about that.” 

Without hesitation, YN reached out and firmly moved her queen bishop’s pawn to its fourth square. The Sicilian Defence was the first chess opening she had ever read about, in one of the more advanced chess books her grandfather had given her, and it consequently became her favourite. It was the one that she found worked more effectively than any of the other openings she had learnt about, and was certainly the one that she used more often than others. 

Without really thinking, once she’d placed her piece down, she pressed the small button that stopped her time and started Sarah’s and placed her elbows upon the table, resting her hands upon her hands just as she had seen lime-green trousers do earlier. She was unsure whether people would notice, but it added a sense of confidence to the girl once she’d done it. When she played with her grandfather, she only ever let her hands rest upon her lap once she’d made her move, and after a few seconds of resting the way that she did, she starting to like this way of resting in between her moves. 

She allowed Sarah to make her moves, which she reciprocated with hers and it wasn’t until she was around her seventh move that she began to attack with them. Sometimes she waits longer to make her attacking moves, and other times she makes them earlier. It all depended on how she was feeling and how she suspected the game to go with each of the different moves. On the eleventh move of the game, she captured one of Sarah’s bishops, and then a few moves after on her nineteenth — her queen. 

She looked up slightly at Sarah, and saw the way she furrowed her eyebrows slightly at the board before dropping all of the worry that glazed over her features. What surprised YN even more was when she reached forward and knocked her king over, even though it shouldn’t have. There wasn’t anywhere else she could have. 

“Wow.” Sarah says, almost sounding flabbergasted about what she had just witnessed, “That was, well, quick.” 

“I’m sorry.” YN’s quick to say but Sarah shakes her head. 

“Don’t be.” She smiles, “I think you’re one of the best players I’ve ever played. Make sure to take your card back, and circle that you’ve won!” 

With that, Sarah was up and walking away from the table. YN picked up the small pencil that she had been given earlier and wrote the game down with Sarah and herself, recording that she had won. She made her way back towards the desk where she had signed up, ignoring the shocked faces of the two men that sat behind the desk once she’d placed her card in the winner’s basket. It was the first card back she noticed, in both the winners and the losers side. It was at this point she noticed the man in the lime-green trousers stood against the side wall looking directly at her. She wasn’t too sure, but it didn’t look as if he was watching her every move. She tried her hardest to not make it too obvious that he had seen her staring and made her way around the room, looking at all of the different games that had started to be played. 

She made her way past board number five, the one lime-green trousers had been stood near, only to see it being the man that he had played a game of speed chess with earlier. It was absolutely certain to YN now that they did know each other, it would be a little odd if they didn’t, maybe even a little bit stalker-ish. What else she was quite surprised at was seeing Sarah stood watching over the same board. YN offered her a smile and went to stand next to her. 

Looking over the board slightly, YN noticed straight away that the man who was playing Black, not the man who was playing speed chess but his opponent, had a chance to win a rook after moving his bishop, but he instead exchanged his pawns. In her mind, she knew that he had just placed himself in a position that a good player would know how to immediately win him over. 

“One of them has a rating of 1450, and the other has a rating of 1689.” Sarah whispers to her, “They’re two of the headliners to win.” 

“Well one of them just made a mistake.” YN immediately whispers back. 

“Who?” Sarah’s eyebrows furrow as she says the words, a little two loudly because all of the eyes around them flutter in their direction. 

“Black.” YN whispers discretely back, “He should’ve moved his bishop, winning white’s rook but instead he exchanged pawns, leaving him wide open.” 

“My god.” She says, dropping her mouth open in shock as she looked at the girl, “You’re insane. How did you notice that.” 

She shrugs, “I just observe games well, I suppose.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

The two of them look back at the game in front of them, and just as she had suspected, the man playing white managed to take black’s rook, and then the queen that was conveniently left wide open, leaving his opponent no other option but to topple his king over. The shake hands and the winner immediately turns around, smiling as lime-green trousers claps him on the back and wraps his arms around his shoulders. They make their way over to the desk, presumably dropping their cards into the baskets. 

“What is their deal?” YN asks Sarah, feeling comfortable enough with the girl to do so. 

“Harry and Mitch?” She nods at Sarah’s words, “They’re best friends, met a few years ago when they drew at a tournament. Harry’s already an expert after winning a game a couple of towns over but Mitch is yet to do so. Harry’s just here to offer moral support to his friend.” 

“I’m sure making him loose at speed chess beforehand is great moral support.” YN’s mutters.

She laughs, “You’d be surprised. They’re forever psyching each other out with games of skittles. They drive me absolutely insane with it.” 

“You know them?” YN is quite baffled at his revelation. 

Sarah nods, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, “Mitch is my boyfriend. The person who taught me chess, actually.” 

YN’s lips part slightly but she immediately shuts them, “Wow.” 

“I know.” She laughs, scratching her forehead sightly, “They’re pretentious twats when it comes to their chess but when you get to know them, they’re alright.” 

YN casts her eyes to them for a second, watching as they look at the board, obviously trying to pinpoint their competition, “I’ll take your word for it.” 

YN next game started twenty minutes later, once everyone else had finished their games, returned their complete cards and paired everyone up for their next games, she made her back over to the board to see who her next opponent was. She was at board ten, which she was pleasantly shocked about, seeing as though the last board she played at was board twenty

‘Scott - 332 - White’ which sat next to, ‘YLN - Unr - Black’ 

She was playing black, which meant that she had to work a little bit harder to make sure that she would start just as strong as she would if she were playing white. She weaved her way through the abundance of people either lingering or making their way to their boards ever so slowly because they don’t want to be seen going to their looser game. She smiles at that thought, they should embrace it, their opponent may just have been better, and they’d have to work from that. Once she made it to table ten, she was surprised to see a man who looked around his mid-thirties, maybe earlier-forties sat waiting for her with a grimace upon his face. Chess players aren’t the nicest of people ever, so YN really isn’t surprised when he doesn’t even respond to her hello, instead just looks down at the board. She doesn’t even hesitate when she leans forward and presses the little button above the clock by the side of them, starting his time. 

He made his opening move, which she followed by moving pawn to queen’s four and pressed his time again. He moved again straight after her movement, instantly with pawn to his queen’s four as well. She quickly noticed that he never looked at her, and instead kept his eyes darting around the room whenever he wasn’t studying the board. She just sat with her elbows placed neatly each side of the board and rested her chin on her hands, staring at both him and the board in intervals. 

He played fast, but she could play even faster and she was beginning to see a little impatience in the man, as though he wanting to play even faster and have the game to be over faster. It had taken them roughly five or six minutes to both develop their pieces, ready to start attacking the other. He started attacking her queen first, which she wasn’t too surprised about because if the shoe was on the other foot she probably would have done the same thing — in a more skilful way, if she may add. 

Ignoring his attack, she starts to advance her knight. He responded by pushing a pawn up, and she was surprised that him doing so meant that she couldn’t take it without being on the responding end of a nasty double attack. She raised her eyebrow, knowing that she could so without him noticing that she was doing so, because his eyes were still fluttering around the room.

He was obviously a very skilled player, and he had to be with the impressive rating of 332. He was better than her grandfather, which pained her to say, but her grandfather always used to say that he was only ever playing the game for fun, and never professionally. As a small child, hearing the word ‘professional’ tricked her mind into thinking that she may actually be able to get a career out of this, but from this experience right now she wondered whether that would be the case or not. 

He surprised her with his next move, picking up his queen bishop and taking one of the pawns next to her king with it, checking her as he did so and sacrificing the piece. To say it threw her off guard for a second would be an understatement, and she did have to go through every option she could before she made her decision. 

She moved her king over in that direction, but didn’t take the bishop. 

He brought his knight down, and she traded the pawns on the other side, meaning she opened the file for her rook. He kept chipping away at her king with complicated moves, but none that she could see had any real danger to her. She brought her rook out, and doubled it with her queen. It was an arrangement that she didn’t quite mind, and she felt ready to fire at any second with whatever she had left in her. 

It only took her three moves to fire and he seemed too entranced by his complicated moves to truly pick up on what she was doing. He was only focusing on chipping away at her king, not paying any attention to the full board, meaning he was missing out on the moves she was making. If he hadn’t been so focused on trying to checkmate her, he would have had her by the fourth move he made, after the first check with the bishop. She had him with her third move, and she saw an opportunity to fire her rook. She moved her queen to the last rank, and captured the white rook, one that still start there unmoved. He was a very messy player, even if a skilled one. 

She looked up at him, and for the first time this entire game he looked up at her. It was almost as though he knew he was over, but he was determined as he reached out and took her queen with his rook.

Looking down, she almost didn’t want to look at him as she tried to hide her smile. She leaned her hand forward, picked her bishop up and moved it one square and muttered the single word of, “Check.” 

YN was surprised when he leant forward, picking up his king before he hesitated. He had finally noticed what what she had done. If he made the move that he had wanted, he was going to loose his queen and the rook that he had just captured. He looked at her and without hesitating said, “Draw?” 

“No.” She hook her head. 

“Okay.” He held out his hand, “I resign.” 

She has to bite her lip to hold in her smile, one that was only there because she had taken her time and actually thought about what she was doing. 

“You play a good game, kid.” He says, and with that he leaves the table. She can’t even contain her excitement when she writes the game down on her card, circling her name to say that she had won. Placing it in the basket, and seeing the two men looking at her again with shocked expressions on their faces, she couldn’t contain her smile. 

To say she had just beaten the first person she had played who actually had a rating that she had to watch out for, she was happy to say the least. The idea of her possibly winning this whole tournament starting itching closer and closer, and to say that she was happy was an understatement. She goes to stand by the back wall, watching over as people around her still played their games, using their own tactics to hopefully win. She didn’t really have a lot of tactics, she just had moves that worked for her and a strategy of whizzing through all of the best options in her head before she played them, making sure that she wasn’t leaving herself open like Sarah had done and then Scott afterwards. 

The clearing of a throat and the feeling of a presence near her was the thing that snapped her out of her winner’s gloat and back into the real world of being in a room with snobby chess players. Lime-green trousers was now stood directly next to her, seeming to be the snobbiest of them all from first impressions, but she certainly isn’t one to pre-judge. 

“It seems to me that you’re getting a little too big for your boots, aren’t you?” 

She definitely should pre-judge, certainly more so when it comes to snobby chess players and especially ones that wear vans she has noticed. 

“Big for my boots?” She raises her eyebrow at him slightly, “You mean winning?” 

“For an unrated player, yes.” He responds, “You’re just on a streak of luck. I’ll be happy once I see you loose next game.” 

This man. YN couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to say those things to her, more so that once she’d looked at him she was absolutely disgusted. He stood there, next to her with one hand tucked within the pocket of his trousers, smirking at her as though she should laugh with him at the words he had just said. 

She cannot at all say that she cared very much about this man, in fact, the questions she had about him were only because she wanted to know why he felt like he ran the place. To have him, someone who she had never met before, say so openly that he was waiting for her to fail sparked something within her, anger to be honest. To anybody else they might have allowed it to get into their head, but YN didn’t have the opportunity to do that — she needed to do well in this tournament and she wasn’t going to allow some snobbish expert to say something of that sort to her ruin it. 

She cleared her throat, dropping her eyes down to floor, “If I recall correctly, you aren’t even playing in this tournament Mr. Styles.” 

“Mr. Styles?” He chuckles, raising his eyebrows at her once she’d said it, “You’ve heard of me?” 

“Not before today, no.” She shakes her head, allowing a little smile to grace over her lips as his falters slightly, “In fact, I had no idea who you were. I had to ask somebody.” 

“And yet you know that I’m not playing.” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and shrugs his shoulders. 

“And yet again, I asked someone.” She tilts her head, “I only asked your name, they felt the need to give me all the information they knew about you.” 

“Which was?” 

“You think you’re semi-decent at chess and feel the need to make sure everyone knows.” 

It was a low blow, and she certainly knew that but she can’t lie and say that it didn’t feel good to see his face falter at her words. Whether it be snobbish boys at school, or snobbish chess players like this Harry Styles himself, she knew it was always the most fun to hit them right where it hurts. For normal members of the male species specifically, they hated when people attacked their masculinity, as though it was fragile and if someone flicked it too harsh it may explode and they might be nice to others for one (Shock! Horror!). For chess players, they already had people keeping their masculinity in check by them playing a predominately male-played game, so, if she just hit that stabbed and twisted that specifically, reminding them that she was also a female at the same time, well it killed two birds with one stone.

So what if she was an unrated player? It just meant that she didn’t have the experience of other. She presumes that people like him forget that at one point he too didn’t have a rating, and had to start off from the beginning. She wondered if someone had plagued him then, meaning that he felt the need to also do it to her. She knew that wouldn’t have been the case, and she was sure if she searched his name up, she’d find thousands of articles that labelled him as a ‘child-prodigy’, which she had also been called in her youth but not by anybody of real power.

That title was tossed around in chess a little too much for her liking. 

“Semi-decent?” His voice is laced with venom and she can tell straight away, “I’m an expert, love, not some wannabe that doesn’t know the difference between skill and sheer luck.” 

For a few seconds, she thought about whether or not she had done something horrid in her past life that meant she had to meet this man. Sheer luck was something that you’d get if you knew how to play chess, but thought you were better than you actually were. YN knew that she was good, the hours she spent studying over different senior master’s games to make sure she knew every trick in the book meant that she was good. Skill came in many different forms, but the main thing that all skilled people of this sport knew was that it took time. She’s sure Harry’s familiar with that himself, but he has too much of a precious ego to ever let anyone know such a thing. 

Even if he did have a precious ego that he felt he needed to protect, there were other ways to do it then degrading herself. 

YN turned to look at him, making sure that the message her eyes sent let him know that he wasn’t to make a peep, “I may be unrated, but if you forget, sunshine, at some point you were too.” She sighs, “To me, sheer luck between us is the idea that you’ve managed to finesse your way so far up this games arse that nobody has realised what an absolute monstrosity of a person you actually are.” 

Lime-green trousers, as she was now going to call him forever, threw her a look that she knew would kill her if they were able too, “Monstrosity? Have you heard yourself, love?” 

“At least I’m not trying to hide the fact that I’m actually horrid, which I’m certainly not, by using the excuse of being a fantastic chess player, as you like to boast that you are.” 

“Have you seen any of my games?” He raises his eyebrows, “Seen how good I actually am?” 

She laughs and shakes her head, seeing that he’s fallen directly into her trap, “I’ve never once said that you weren’t a good player, in fact, I would never say something like that.” 

“But you’ve —”

“If you recall, Mr. Styles, I never said anything about your chess other than you think you’re semi-decent, which isn’t an insult at all.” She says, leaning back on your heel slightly, “I never insulted your chess, only your personality. You decide which one you cherish the most.” 

“What if I take semi-decent as an insult?” 

She shrugs, “Then you’re even shallower than I thought. Think back to what you said about my chess, which I quote was that I played with ‘sheer luck’ and that ‘you’ll be happy to see me loose my next game’.” 

YN feels proud of herself that she’d managed to stick up for herself in front of the shell of a man, not allowing his shitty behaviour and rudeness to bring her down from her high. She had won her first two games in the tournament for christ’s sake, and it meant she was a hell of a lot closer to maybe winning this thing. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get home.” She says, “Need to get some rest, have a full day tomorrow of winning on sheer luck. I have some praying to do, I suppose.” 

With that, YN turns and walks away from him, leaving him in a stunned silence in the corner of the room at the words that she had said to him. She wasn’t going to let that man do what she supposes he has done to many other people to her. She didn’t deserve that. 

As she left the village hall after the first day of the tournament she realised that if she was going to make it amongst these chess players, she was going to have to learn that she wasn’t some push over, and she deserved the respect that other players received. 

She was going to prove to lime-green trousers that she was a good player, one with skill and show him that the ‘sheer luck’ nonsense he was going on about was something that he had just made up in her case. 

To do this, the first thing YN had to do was search up this man, and learn the tricks of his trade. She was going to beat him at his own game, whether or not he was playing. 

The next day YN walked into the village hall with a spring in her step. When she had returned home, she had immediately bolted upstairs and locked herself within her room, sat on her bed with her chessboard in front of her, running through all of her games to see if there were any weaknesses in her play. There weren’t, and that made her smile. Her grandfather had always said that she was a wonder, someone who was so young but knew more then him about the game that he had taught her how to play. YN truly couldn’t understand how she was better than her grandfather at chess, but she thinks it has something to do with the hours upon hours she spent as a child when she should’ve been doing schoolwork going over games and moves until she had them memorised. 

The next thing she did was open her laptop up and search up, ‘Harry Styles’. She couldn’t stop herself from doing so, and just as she had thought, the man was some sort of child prodigy. Reading one of the articles on the Chess Weekly website, he had won his first tournament at aged eight, and ever since, he had just excelled. It said if he wins the next regional championships he will be on his way to being national master, and if he wins the next national championships he will be senior master. YN had no idea that there were so many different championships and tournaments to play in chess. 

She had read through all of his games that were publish on the Chess Weekly website and she wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t find any fault in his game. She played them out on her board as she read them, and tried her very hardest to find errors where she would’ve done differently but she couldn’t. He had the title of expert for something, and the skill he had certainly was the thing that gave him that. 

YN also found out that he had won another tournament close by to the one that she was playing, and he already had an invitation to the regional championships that were taking place in Manchester in three months so he didn’t have to play. It was at this point she learnt that if she was to win this tournament, she wouldn’t just win the prize money but also an invitation to play at regional’s with all of the other winners. It certainly gave her something to look forward to which she hadn’t had before. 

That morning, she had dressed in an outfit that was smart, yet also casual. She had paired some high-waisted black trousers with a black turtle-neck and added a chunky-knit tan cardigan with large black pin-stripes on it. The belt she added hugged in her waist and made her feel as though she could do anything. She couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t doing this as an ode to lime-green trousers, wearing something similar to what he was wearing just to spite him that even though they were of different genders, they were both playing the same sport as people. 

The village hall looked exactly the same as it did yesterday, and the people that were there were also the same as yesterday, YN noticed. She offered a closed-lipped smile to the men that were sat at the table, the same two as yesterday. They looked at her with a shocked look upon their features, as though they couldn’t believe that she was actually still playing. She made her way over to the notice board, skimming her eyes over to find that she was on board eight, and that she was actually the only unrated player still left in the tournament. A grin threatened to cross her features but she didn’t allow it. She had to look tough. 

“YN YLN.” She said, holding her hand out to shake his hand. 

“James Wortley.” 

The board had told her that his rating was 1065, meaning that he would be the best player she had played all weekend, but that certainly didn’t mean that he would beat her. He wasn’t going to beat her, she wouldn’t allow it. YN was playing white, giving her the advantage that she was going to start the game. She played pawn to king four, hoping that he’d play the Sicilian, the one move she knew better than any other. 

He didn’t. 

Wortley copied and played pawn to king four, and then moved his king’s bishop so it was in the corner, above his castled king. She hadn’t seen anything like this before, and she wondered whether he had made it up. It seemed to be one of those moves that people make up to try and hurt their opponents brain. 

It hadn’t worked then, but during the middle of the game it started to get a little more complex, and YN started to make decisions without actually thinking them through. Without thinking everything through, she made the decision to retreat her bishop, lifting it up slightly off the board. It was at this point she noticed that she had a better move of pawn to queen four. She dropped it back down to the board. 

“Touch move.” Wortley interrupted. She looked up at him and wanted nothing more than to smack the smile that had crossed his lips off him “You have to move your bishop.” 

She tried to not make her mistake obvious and moved her bishop to bishop four. It was the first time in any of her chess games that she had played previously. Even when she played with only her grandfather, her moves were all clean and precise and she hardly made any mistakes. When she was learning, she made mistakes, but one needs that to become good at whatever they are doing. After the first period or so of learning, when she could say that she wasn’t a beginner, the mistakes started to become less and less until she could proudly say that she made none. 

Wortley had a grin on his face that she knew was because he had noticed her little tumble. He moved his queen’s pawn to the fifth square, tapping his clock button smugly and leaning back in his chair as if to psych her out. She wasn’t going to let him know that it was working. 

If she didn’t think about this, he was going to capture one of her bishops, and she wasn’t about to let him do that and leave her in a vulnerable position. It took her ten minutes of studying the board over and over again until she found a move that meant that he wasn’t going to do that. He took her bishop, thinking he had actually done something, but then she advanced the queen rook pawn over on the opposite side of the board. She saw his face drop for a moment, but his next move was quick as he pushed the queen pawn forward again. 

He wasn’t as good a player as she thought, because he fell delicately into her trap that she had laid out for him. She moved her knight, attacking his rook. Doing so, she knew that he would move the rook to the square that she had thought he would, and that allowed her to bring her queen out to bishop five, right above where he had left his castled king. She could feel the anger bubbling within his body as she lifted her queen, and took the pawn directly under the king, sacrificing her queen. 

He took the queen, there was nothing else he could do. 

She brought her bishop out for another check, and he halted her pawn, just as she reckoned he would, “You’ll be checkmate in two.” 

Wortley had a sour look upon his face, lifting his eye to look at her calm ones, “What?” 

“The rook will come over, mate.” She tilts her head as she watches him play out her words as he stares at the board, “Then the knight mates afterwards.” 

“But my queen—”

“Will be pinned after I move my king.” 

YN quite liked watching him crumble before her, spitting out a, “Fuck!” as he knew she was right. Just as the snobby chess player he was, he stood up without turning his king or shaking her hand and stormed away from the table, leaving her with a small smile upon her lips. She enjoyed writing her game down on the card and circling her name. As she stood up, she tucked her chair underneath the table, she was shocked to see lime-green trousers stood directly behind her, this time wearing blue flared jeans and an orange jumper. She was still going to call him lime-green trousers in her head. 

He had his arms crossed and a stern look upon his face, one that she supposed came from just watching her game. She hoped he had enjoyed himself. 

“Still sheer luck?” She asked, with a playful smile and the tilt of her head. 

“You made a mistake.” 

“But I got myself out of it.” 

“You still made it.” 

YN shook her head, knowing that nothing would be good enough for this man. He thrived on making players like her feel like shit because they made one mistake. Some people would crumble from the move that she made — but she didn’t, and she won. 

“Are you genuinely telling me that you’ve never made a mistake playing before?” 

If he said no, she certainly wouldn’t believe him. She hadn’t before today, but she hadn’t played in professional tournaments before today also. 

“I’ve never made a mistake playing in an important game, no.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Well you better believe it, rookie.” 

“I think I’ve proven that I’m no rookie.” She purses her features for emphasis. 

He chuckles, “You’ll prove that you’re no rookie if you win this whole thing. But I can’t say that I have belief that you will.” 

With that he’s walking past her, brushing her shoulder with his so hard that it almost sends her off balance. He was one of the people that YN found hard to not get angry with all of the time. It was his taunting and his teasing and the fact that he has virtually no belief that she’s good enough to win this thing. If he had watched her game, which she was guessing he had, then he would certainly know that she was a skilled player. She would’ve liked to see him play that game as well as she did, making the mistake and all. 

Her next game was an hour or so later, and when she checked the notice board she was on board four. She was playing someone called Reid, and they had a rating of 1602. She was shocked to know that this person was one of the two people with ratings over 1600 that she had been told about when she joined yesterday. She wasn’t going to let intimidate her. 

She shook his hand and sat down across from him. She wasn’t going to lie, he looked like he had just walked out of a movie set, with blonde waves and a nice smile. She was surprised that once he sat down, he didn’t stop smiling at her. She returned it, only for it to drop once she saw who was sat behind him. Lime-green trousers, with a smirk on his face as his eyes never left her. This was the last game she had to play, she noticed. There was only one other board in use at board one. She hadn’t even realised that had been the case. He was trying to psych her out, and she noticed this because his friend was the other player sat on the other board. 

It was a low blow, even for him. If lime-green trousers believed that she was a threat to his friend, then he should have more faith in his friend. It was one thing to stalk out your opponents and try to get into their heads, but Harry wasn’t even playing her. His friend, who is called Mitch if she remembers correctly, hadn’t even batted an eyelid in her direction, and if he didn’t care about her then she was unsure why his friend cared so much. It wasn’t even as though he was doing a good job of it either. Did he think that standing there with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed was going to distract her? It certainly wasn’t. 

“Are you ready?” Stopping the rant in her head, she flutters her eyes down to movie-star and offers him a smile. 

She wasn’t going to let him distract her after this point, “Ready.” 

YN was playing black, meaning he had the advantage but it wasn’t going to be something that she worried herself over. Reid played pawn to king four and then pressed his clock. She could feel not only his eyes staring at her, but lime-green trousers as well. This was going to be a long game, and she could already feel that.

She played pawn to queen bishop four. By the time the middle of the game came around, after every move she made she was looking up at lime-green trousers, who still had his eyes on her. She wondered whether she did so to spite him that he was trying to get under her skin or she did so because she found herself being drawn to him. He was one of the only people that had ever been to do so to her whilst she was playing the game. 

There were no weaknesses on either side of their play, and it was just a case of waiting and finding the best squares for her knights and bishops. It started to become like a routine, and she really was starting to get bored. Harry’s stern face had grown now into a smirk that she knew would be etched into her brain for hours to come, reminding her that he thinks she’s not going to win at all. 

Reid brought a knight to queen five, and it caused a frown to cross YN’s face because she knew she wouldn’t be able to dis-lodge it. She didn’t look up at lime-green trousers after her next movement because she knew that his smirk would have grown to cover the entirety of his face. Reid had finally started to creep up on her, but the only thing that YN could actually think was that it was about time. 

YN had her elbows on the table, her head rested upon her fists as she looked over the board with a keen eye. She decided it was time to fight back, pushing her pawn up so that it opened up her bishop, meaning that the bishop’s power had tripled. She hoped that lime-green trousers would have noticed that she had done this, and that the smirk he had upon his face had left. 

Reid kept bringing his pieces up and he knew that there were limits to what he could do to her. YN focused on the left-hand corner of the board where his queen was. Strategically, she moved her bishop down in the middle of his clustered pieces and set it on his knight two square. If he decided to capture it, he would be in trouble. She looked up at him and she could tell that he was starting to get nervous, and his clock was certainly ticking. 

Fifteen minutes later he made his move, taking the bishop with his rook. It was as though he couldn’t see that moving the rook of the back rank was a foolish move. He was supposed to be one of the top players of this competition and he hadn’t spotted this. She was shocked. Checking that it was right, she brought out her queen. 

He didn’t notice it until after his next move, and that was when his game fell apart. Six moves later when she got her queen’s pawn passed to the sixth rank, he brought his rook under the pawn. She attacked it with her bishop. He studied the board for a few seconds and she tried her hardest to not allow a winning smile to cross her lips. 

He lifted his hand up and set his king on the side, “I resign. You win.” 

He held his hand out which she shook, and the applause was defining. She stands up and sees that lime-green trousers had already disappeared, walking towards his friend that had also finished his game. She did smile at that. She was one step closer to winning the tournament and proving that she was actually a good player, and she hoped that she would be able to rub it in his face.

“YN!” It’s Sarah who calls her name after she had moved away from the board. The girl walks over and wraps her arms around YN, who does stiffen for a few a seconds before relaxing in her touch, “That was amazing!” 

YN tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, “Thank you.” 

They moved away from the board and out into the open, “The way you tricked him was insane! I’ve never seen anything like that before. ” 

YN wasn’t used to receiving compliments, and especially not about her chess. She hadn’t received compliments about her chess in a long time, and certainly not in situations like this one. Her grandfather always complimented the way she played, but he sort of had to because of their relations and all. Maybe this tournament would start more people complimenting her chess. 

As they walked, Sarah slipped her arm through YN’s, “Are you sure you’re not rated?” 

“I haven’t played in years.” YN shook her head, “There’s no way that I am.” 

She had played with herself over the past years but nobody else, and that’s how she knew for certain that there would be no way that she had a rating. 

“Years?” Sarah’s tone is shocked, “You haven’t played in years and you’re that good? I don’t play for a few days and I’ve completely forgotten everything.” 

YN chuckles at her words lightly, “I played with myself.” 

“Yourself?” She smiled, “You must have had some rivalries with yourself.” 

“I played other people’s games.” She clarified, “I played through games that were in Chess Weekly  and tried to find any faults in it.” 

“Did you find any?” She asks.

“A few.” YN shrugs, “Mainly people missing things that are directly in front of them.” 

“Like Reid?” Sarah questioned and YN nodded. 

“They focus on something too much and miss what their opponents are doing.” 

Sarah turned to the side slightly to look at her, “You’re right. I’ll have to check to see if I do that.” 

“You did in our game.” YN teases. 

“I know I did.” Sarah bumps her shoulder slightly, “And now I have the Queen of chess as a friend who can teach me the tricks of the trade.” 

YN didn’t have many friends, so it was nice to hear that she had a friend coming from somebodies lips. 

YN nodded her head at Sarah, “I can do that.” 

“I’m counting on it.” 

When YN returned the next day, it was to play the final game, the one that if she wins she would win the prize money of two hundred and fifty pounds — something that would help her and her grandmother out dearly. Yesterday, she had wiped out her opponent Harris in under forty moves, thirty-six to be exact. She arrived and saw a group of people already stood around board one, where she knew she would be playing the game. Boards two and three were ready to start again, playing to find who would be in the places third, fourth, fifth and sixth. 

Mitch Rowland was the man she was playing, with a rating of 1689, and she knew that rating could be exactly how good he was or be hiding the truth, just like it had been with movie-star. When he sat down and she looked around the room, she could see Sarah sat there, cheering on her boyfriend obviously whilst he played his final game.

“YN YLN.” The words slip out of his lips easily, “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Mitch Rowland.” 

She smiles and shakes the hand he holds out, “I can say the same about you.” 

YN was playing white, and the second he had punched her clock, she moved pawn to king four and punched his clock. He immediately responded by moving his king pawn to the third square, punching her clock smugly. The French Defence. She had read about it in one of her books before, but she had never played it. She hesitated for a second on what was the best move to make, and after steady contemplation of all of the different outcomes, she played her pawn to queen four. She couldn’t help but wonder whether she had made a mistake or not. 

Rowland hastily picked up his queen pawn and put it on queen four, and pressed the button of his clock. The opening had thrown her off, and she wondered whether Mitch had noticed that. He had to have. Deciding to bring out one of her knights, she decided to struggle in the centre squares. He was moving fast, and captured one of her pawns and she saw that she couldn’t do the same with it. 

He had an advantage and she tried her very best to shrug it off. He was certainly the first player that she’d played that matched his rating, that was the truth. 

Taking the pieces of the back rank, she castles and looks up at Mitch. He looked completely calm, as though he knew exactly what he was doing and wasn’t worried about the consequences of it. For the first time, she started to feel uncomfortable in her seat, and moves slightly within it. She found herself pushing her fingers into her chin as they rested in the new position she had found herself liking. She wondered if lime-green trousers was here, and if he knew that she had seen the way he rested within his game and tried to copy that, if he had, it would be another thing to be teased on.

Looking down at the board, there was a cluster of pieces and pawns on the board that seemed to have no real sense of why they were there. She knew her clock was ticking, and looking at it, she saw that she had used twenty-three minutes of it. Mitch had only used twenty minutes of his. He was leant back in his chair, clearing enjoying that she had no idea what she was she was going to do. 

After a few more minutes of staring at the board, she found what she thought would be a good square for her knight, and she reached out her hand but then stopped. If she had done that, it wouldn’t have been good for her at all. She needed to do something about his queen before he had it on the rook file and ready to threaten. She needed to find someway to protect it, but no matter how much she stared at them, she couldn’t see a possible move. 

Eventually she did find a sensible move and quickly made it, bringing a knight back near the king which protected it from Rowland’s queen. She could see that it had shocked him, because his features dropped for a second before he took a pawn on the other side of the board. That opened up his bishop, which was aimed at the knight that she had brought back, and now she was down by another pawn. He now had a small smile by his face, and she knew that if she didn’t do something quickly, it would be all over for her. The king would have been taken in four or five moves. 

It took her a few minutes but she found her move and made it, punching her clock. Rowland studied the board for a minute before taking her knight with his bishop, like she had hoped that he would. She didn’t retake the move, and instead brought a bishop over to attack one of his rooks. He moved the rook out of the line of fire, like he had too. She brought her queen from the back to the centre and that now threatened to take the rook, pinning the king’s knight pawn so she could take the bishop with a check. It was now Mitch’s turn to study the board, and now his clock was ticking. 

Fifteen minutes later he found the rook move that she had thought of earlier. It allowed her rook to come over her queen and from the deep breath he took, she knew she had got him. Ten more minutes later he moved his queen into a defensive position, but it certainly wouldn’t work. She reached out and advanced her pawn, attacking his queen. He stared at the pawn for a moment as though it was something that would hurt him if he touched it. If he moved his queen, YN would be able to attack him in an abundance of ways. 

“Fucking hell.” He shock his head, trying to figure out what to do until he had ten minutes left on his clock. She had forty five, but she wasn’t one to brag. 

There was only one move he could make, even though it would be the end of the game for him. She brought up a bishop behind her queen, threatening checkmate that he had to parry with his queen. She ignored it and pushed her rook to the third rank, where it could move either left or right. She would get either his queen or a checkmate, whatever he did. 

“Fucking hell.” He repeated again, shaking his head and placing his hand upon his forehead. 

“You can’t get out of it.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I can.” He says, “I will.” 

She shrugged, “If you say so.” 

With four minutes on the clock, he stared and stared at the board as though it was going to jump out and tell him what to do. Thirty seconds to go he picked up his queen and slammed it in front of the rook, offering to sacrifice it for the rook. He pressed the button, letting out a deep breath. 

“I told you it doesn’t work.” She said, “There’s other options but the queen.” 

“Make your move.” He said sourly. 

“I can check you—”

“Just move.” He sounded as though she was giving up. 

Nodding, she checked with the bishop and he retorted by moving his king away and pressing the button. Without a hesitation, she brought her queen down next to the king which sacrificed it. He could hardly believe that he had done it and snatched up her queen and stopped the clock. She pushed her bishop from the back rank to the middle and said, “Check. Mate next move.” 

He looked at it, and shook his head, “Fucking hell.” 

She wondered whether or not that was his favourite phrase. 

“The rook will mate.” She responds to him, “I was trying to tell you that.” 

“Fucking hell.” He shakes his head and holds his hand out for YN to shake, which she does, “They told me you were good.” 

She couldn’t believe it. 

People cheered around the room, clapping for her of all people. She was shocked to say the least.  People who she didn’t even know congratulated her for her win, and it was something that she knew that she could get used to. She was given a cheque for two hundred and fifty pounds, and although it wasn’t a lot, it would certainly help her and her grandmother slightly. 

YN couldn’t wait to get home and tell her grandmother the good news. The bus had been ten minutes late, and she spent the entire time with the cheque laying heavy in her pocket. She allowed her mind to wonder, but not too much. The thing that she thought of the most was how she hadn’t seen lime-green trousers there for the final. She would’ve thought that if anybody was there for the final, it would’ve been him, but he was no where to be seen. YN knew that it was probably really petty to want to rub it in his face that she had won, but she felt as though she deserved to do so with the shit he had said to her. 

YN couldn’t contain her excitement as she finally burst her way into the house, immediately kicking her shoes off and placing her jacket over the banister. 

“Grandma?” She called out, “Where are you?” 

“In the kitchen!” She called back, which YN certainly wasn’t surprised at. 

YN had realised from a young age that when her grandmother was nervous, she found herself always cooking or baking. They don’t have a lot of money but they always had things to make sweet treats with. Her grandmother was an excellent baker and she would choose her grandmothers sweets any day but her grandmother never had the confidence to believe that was the case. 

When YN walks in the kitchen, she’s immediately met by all of the different aromas of what her grandmother had been cooking and baking throughout the day whilst she had been playing the tournament. 

“It smells nice in here.” YN says, walking over to the counter and leaning down upon it, beaming up at her grandmother. 

“It should do.” She responds, stirring the stew that was in the crock pot, probably having been in the majority of the day, “I’ve been slaving around all day in this kitchen.” 

“For me?” YN smiles, placing a hand upon her chest, “You shouldn’t have.” 

“I should.” She nods, taking two plates out of the cupboard so she could serve up, “We had to have something that was as celebratory as it was a pick me up.” 

YN smiled, unable to hide her love for her grandmother. Her grandmother had always been a loving person and a person that always thought about other people rather than herself. YN had always aspired to be like her grandmother, and she hoped that she would be, even though it could be hard at times to do so. 

“Anyways.” She wipes her hand upon a teacloth that she did have over her shoulder, “How did it go?” 

“How did what go?” YN teases, walking over to sit down at the dining table that she had set out. 

The next thing YN feels is the teacloth that her grandmother did have over her shoulder, hitting her on the head. 

“What was that for?” She exclaimed.

“You know exactly what that was for!” YN chuckles at her grandmothers response, “Now tell me. What happened?” 

“Oh, you know. I played some chess.” 

Her grandmother rolls her eyes, “I gathered that.” 

“And. . .” YN takes the cheque out of her pocket and holds it up for her grandmother, “I won this.” 

“YN!” She exclaims, clapping her hand to her mouth, immediately walking over to where her granddaughter was stood to lift the cheque out of her hand, “You won! I can’t believe it!” 

“Well then.” YN chuckles, “It’s nice to know you had faith in me grandma.” 

“Oh shut it with you.” She places the cheque back down, “I’m the first person to admit that you’re crazy good at chess, but, you haven’t played another person in how many years?” 

“Uh.” YN thinks for a second, “Four, maybe five.” 

“That’s a long time, YN.” 

It was a long time, she was right. Apart from playing her grandfather, YN had only ever played people who were on her grandfather’s chess team. They were all older than her, and more experienced, but she always managed to win. Her grandfather always said that she was a wonder. Chess wasn’t popular within her age group, and she wasn’t one to really put herself out there so she spent her days locked up within her room playing through other peoples games rather than her own. It probably wasn’t the best way to learn chess but it certainly had some benefits. 

“I know.” She nods, “It was odd. They all had ratings to be impressed of but made silly mistakes. They concentrated on other things rather than what I was doing.” 

“Maybe you were just too good of a player for them to handle.” 

YN chuckled, “I highly doubt that.” 

“No. That’s what I believe.” 

YN, for one, had a good memory. To be able to learn to play chess the way that she did, playing through games over and over again until she had them memorised hinted at that. YN wasn’t really a fan of school, and even though she passed with okay grades she knew that after that she was finished with learning. Instead, she started to work in her grandfather’s bookshop, and it meant that she could read all the chess books she wanted whilst she was on the job, even though she probably wasn’t supposed to. 

“They just made silly mistakes.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“I even made some.” 

“We’re all human.” Her grandma says, “That still doesn’t take away from the fact that you have real skill, YN. Skill that could take you places.” 

Not knowing how to handle the compliment she had just been given, YN looks down at the table, running her finger along the edge of it. 

“I could do.” She says, shrugging her shoulders slightly, “Take it somewhere.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“All the winners of the tournaments get invited to play in the Regional Championships.” 

“That’s amazing!” 

YN tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and nods, “It’s in three months. In Manchester. The prize money is double, maybe triple what the tournaments was. I don’t know yet.” 

“Wow.” Her grandmother shakes her head, “He always knew that you’d go somewhere with chess. Always told me that you would.” 

He hadn’t even told YN that he thought she would be able to play chess professionally, only ever briefly mentioning that people can play it professionally if they want, but knowing that he had told her grandmother about it was something that caused butterflies to flutter within her stomach as well as a heart-wrenching twist. 

A part of her wished he was still around to tell her that to her face. 

“I’d have to really practice to win.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do it.” 

YN had already orchestrated a plan of what she was going to do to prepare for the championships. She was sure that she could find a list of all of the winners of the different tournaments, probably on Chess Weekly the more she thought of it, and she would learn each and everyone of their more important games. It mean that whoever she played, she would’ve been able to familiarise herself with their strategies and make sure she knew what they preferred to play out of everything. It would be tough, but it wasn’t like she had anything else to do. 

“You know, YN.” She says, reaching out and placing her hand on YN’s, “He’d be so very proud of everything you’ve achieved. Even if it had been a little delayed.” 

YN chuckles at her grandmothers words. It had actually taken her a while to psych herself up to play the tournament because she knew that it would be hard to do so without her grandfather, but at the same time she knew that she had to do it for him because he wasn’t here. 

“I know.” She grips her grandmother’s hand just as tightly back, “I’m doing it all for him.” 

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @havethetimeofyourstyles  @stylesfics-xx  @ill-be-your-honey-bri  @millennial-teenybopper  @burberryharold  @heartbreakweatherharry  @ucancallmechlo  @hipslikejagger  @kylos-empress  @itsbuckysworld  @afire-hes  @lolapuffs  @cutemint  @the-tumbl-r-of-my-youth @njpic @caprisunstyles

[peaceisadirtyword]

Heathen V (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N: Hello! I might have gotten a bit carried away with this(?) Sorry😅 I hope it’s not too boring though🥺 I was just going to rewrite the ending and suddenly... I had 1000 more words💀 anyway, I hope you like it!♥️ In this chapter I talk about norse mythology and christianity, and even if I’ve read about it (norse mythology, at least) I’m by no means an expert, so I had to consult some friends and people I know that are professionals. In any case, I’m sorry if I wrote anything wrong, please tell and forgive me.

Btw, thank you so much for your messages! I’m feeling better now🥰 I watched some videos of Alex and Marco and I calmed down a bit! I suppose I just need to relax a bit, it’s okay, but seriously thank you for your messages and for always being so understanding with me💞🙏🏻

Warnings: talk about religion, mentions of violence, war and all that sh1t... Ivar is too perfect I’d like to marry him but, unfortunately, I can't 

Words: don’t hate me but there’s 5492 words under this... I hope it’s worth it (?)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

For Edlynn, it was both scary and hypnotizing to see Ivar learning how to read. He seemed to understand things quickly and even if they didn't really have any materials for him to practice writing, Edlynn saw him carving letters on wood more than once, like he did with the runes. In a few days, Ivar could understand some parts of the books, even if he still needed help, and Edlynn remembered bitterly how much time it took for her to learn basic words and how many times the priest that taught her and her siblings scolded her.

In return, Ivar agreed to tell her a bit more about his culture. He talked about the Gods, even showed some runes to her, she asked him to show her their longships, and was amazed by the carvings and the designs. Sometimes, she'd ask him to translate some words from English to Norse, and soon became obsessed with his language, trying to memorize everything she could for when she went back home. Mildrith would love it. 

"Can we go back to reading?" Ivar sighed, raising an eyebrow when Edlynn asked him to translate a few words more. He had spent the entire day with Hvitserk and was on a good mood, but he was also tired. 

"Yes, sorry" she blushed a bit, realizing her eagerness was probably improper "Just one more, please" 

Ivar nodded slowly. He found her excitement adorable, and he had to hold back a smile more than once when she tried to repeat some words with a soft voice. 

"How do you say sun and moon?" she tilted her head, curiously "It's true that they are Gods for you?" 

Mildrith had told her once that the northman she had been with had told her that they worshipped the sun and the moon, as if they were Saints or Gods. And, for some reason, Edlynn became obsessed with it. 

"Those are two words" Ivar smirked "But they are Sól and Máni, and they are Gods, yes, but slightly different from the Aesir and the Vanir" he shrugged "It's a long story"

Edlynn waited a few more seconds, maybe expecting for him to keep telling the story. 

"So the moon is a Goddess?"

Ivar hummed, nodding. 

"She's a woman, sister to Sól, the sun" he shrugged.

"That makes sense" Edlynn bit her lip, interested "But, how can you say they are a man and a woman? They're not humans" she smiled softly, amused "They can't be man and woman" 

"But they are" Ivar frowned "It's like that story of yours about the Virgin, I've heard that one before, how can you tell she was a virgin?" he shrugged. 

"Because God chose her to carry his son, the one who would bring His word to us"

"You christians are too obsessed with virginity" Ivar rolled his eyes. Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and cleared her throat. 

"It's a sin not to be a virgin when you get married"

"Yes, I've heard a lot about those sins" Ivar nodded "And I still think it's ridiculous, why would your God demand that you deny the pleasure of having sex to yourselves?"

"It's an act of purity, of faith" Edlynn narrowed her eyes. She knew the northmen were much less... Traditional, with these things, and sometimes she felt somehow curious. It wasn't a topic that was very discussed at the court, and much less at home with her father... Once, Edlynn and Mildrith saw a couple on the stables and asked Hilda about it. The nun was so angry at them that she made them pray for hours, and then made them promise they wouldn't go around talking about it.

"It's stupid" Ivar shrugged "You would be much happier if you forgot about that"

The girl pressed her lips together, a bit bothered. Ivar's smirk showed he was trying to get a reaction from her, but Edlynn wouldn't start arguing. 

"I didn't expect a heathen to understand it" she shrugged.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head. 

"I've spent maybe too much time around christians to understand many things, but I still believe your God is weak" he licked his lips "Compared to Odin and Thor, he's weak and demanding"

She ignored him, looking back at the books and parchments they were studying. Finally, Ivar stood up, making Edlynn raise her head as he walked over to the bed, and sat down to take his braces off. She watched as his fingers worked quickly on them, freeing his legs. When Ivar started taking his clothes, she stiffened, blushing again, and stood up to tidy the books and avoid looking at him. If she had looked, she would have seen Ivar's amused smile. 

"The day and the night are also man and a woman" he continued, startling Edlynn. She turned to look at him, curious, but turned around when she realized he was shirtless "What? Are you also not allowed to look at me?"

"It's not proper" she muttered, looking down. During the nights she had been sharing his tent, she always slept with her back turned to him, and usually she would already be asleep when he went to bed. 

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" 

Edlynn hesitated, but finally turned around. He was doing it to bother her, and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it was working. The sight left her breathless. Ivar was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but not only his face was beautiful; he was strong, she had already noticed it when he grabbed her for the first time. Edlynn tried her best to avoid staring at his beautiful hair, collected in braids and tied that fell down his back and shoulder. 

"Dagr is the day, and he's the son of Nótt, the night, Odin gave each of them a chariot that they can ride on the sky... And two horses, Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi" his own finger pointed at his chest, which was crossed by dark lines. Those strange drawings on his skin were normal among the northmen; she had seen those on their arms, necks, faces... It was weird but she had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid asking about them. 

Ivar had also another one on his back. Edlynn couldn't see much, but from the few glimpses she had caught, it looked like a snake. The ones he showed now had an intricate pattern, and she frowned softly while looking at them. 

"They don't look like horses" 

That made Ivar chuckle, but he didn't say anything else as she approached him, her eyes still fixed on his chest. When she was close enough, she raised her hand slowly. 

"Can I?" 

Ivar tensed, but finally nodded softly. Edlynn didn't know what to expect when her fingers touched the dark ink, but was somewhat surprised by the feeling of his skin. It was warm and his muscles tensed under her touch when her finger roamed around his chest following the lines. It was hypnotizing, and she couldn't feel anything else that wasn't Ivar. 

She found his necklace. It was always hidden under his clothes, so it caught her attention. The question was written all over her face when she looked at his eyes again. 

"Mjölnir" he answered quietly "Thor's hammer" 

Edlynn nodded. She had heard about that, and thought it would be something like the cross that hang from her own neck. 

Finally, she moved her hand backwards, almost like she just realized what she was doing and was suddenly too shy to keep touching him. Ivar's eyes were still fixed on Edlynn as she turned around, getting away from him faster than he would have liked, and soon she was laying on her side of the bed, with her back turned to him and her body tense and stiff, not bothering to cover herself. 

______________________________

Edlynn was amazed by the shieldmaidens. She had heard about them more than once, since she was a kid, and sometimes imagined herself with a sword when she watched her brother, Edward, train with their father. But when she said it once, during dinner, everyone turned to look at her with widened eyes. Both her father and her sister reprimanded her; the battlefield is no place for women, you're needed at home, praying and taking care of the children. 

Since then, the thought hadn't crossed her mind again. 

She also saw the two viking women training when they were staying with King Alfred. They moved gracefully, and easily defeated male warriors, it was entertaining and interesting to see, and Mildrith and her would always sit and watch her, but always under the stern gaze of their fathers. Once, the blonde woman she had often seen with Bishop Heahmund offered them to try. Edlynn remembered the soft smile and how she approached them. She was sure her face lightened up, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Lord Eldred was behind her, he gripped her shoulder with maybe too much force. His daughter wouldn't go near a sword, he had said sternly. And the viking woman sighed, shooting her a sad smile before leaving. 

But in that camp, even with her wrists tied and three northmen around her, she was free to watch as much as she wanted. 

There was a group of many women, training with her swords, axes and shields. They fought fiercely, but laughing and hugging each other, and Edlynn was amazed. She barely blinked and didn't know how much time she had been there watching them. The women didn't seem to care, and she felt more at ease around them than around the men. 

But when she turned her head, startled by some other sounds coming from her right, something else caught her attention. The first thing she saw was Hvitserk dodging a dagger as he trained with another viking. She knew that dagger, and soon her eyes fixed on Ivar, who was leant on a tree and smirked softly. He had a horn on his hand, and his eyes shone as they only did when he was around his brother. Next to him, Edlynn saw some arrows and a wooden bow, an axe and another sword.

He hadn't seen her, and she stayed silent and still, watching. He was relaxed, laughing and had a playful smirk on his lips. In some way, he was even more handsome. Soon, he got tired of just watching and grabbed the bow and arrows, tensing it slowly. His gaze was fixed on the tree in front of him, and Edlynn couldn't help but stare at him as his whole body tensed. She remembered when her brother learnt archery, when his arms were always shaking. Ivar didn't move a single muscle until he shoot the arrow. 

"Don't miss, brother, you have an audience" Hvitserk's voice startled both Ivar and Edlynn, and when his eyes finally landed on her, his expression changed. She wasn't able to point exactly what changed, but Ivar barely looked at her. 

"See something you like, princess?" 

Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and pressed her lips together when she heard the guards and some other men chuckling behind her, refusing to let them see her. Ivar also smirked, leaning to grab another arrow. 

"I was just watching" she muttered. Ivar looked amused when he turned his head to look at her. 

"Want to try?" he pointed at the tree. Edlynn hesitated, knowing that grabbing a bow and shooting arrows wasn't proper. But then again... There was no one there to scold her, right? And probably, if King Alfred reached an agreement with them, she wouldn't have to see any of them again. 

She nodded softly, feeling a strange rush of excitement like the ones she used to feel when she was little and did something that was strictly forbidden. Ivar nodded at the guards and they let her go after untying her wrists. 

"I don't think you have done this before, am I right?"

Edlynn narrowed her eyes at him and snatched the bow from his hands, making him laugh. It was heavier than she ever thought, and nearly let it fall to the ground. But she could already imagine how much the men would laugh if she dropped the bow. 

"Turn around" Ivar ordered, and Edlynn obeyed slowly, still hesitating and nervous because of all those pairs of eyes fixed on her, studying her every move. She wasn't a warrior, but a noble lady that lived  in a castle, so her movements were clumsy and not graceful at all. 

She startled and nearly jumped when Ivar's hands touched her waist. 

"What are you doing?" she whispered, widening her eyes. 

"Don't you want to learn?" Ivar shrugged, an innocent tone on his voice that Edlynn didn't believe. 

His strong hands moved her effortlessly, and she tried not to blush even more when she felt Ivar's body closer to hers. She could even feel his breathing behind her neck. 

Ivar worked in silence, making sure she was on the right position before taking a new arrow. Edlynn frowned when she tensed the bow and her arms started shaking, even if Ivar was the one that practically held it behind her. 

"Stop shaking" he scolded her, and Edlynn could hear some chuckles around her. Some of the shieldmaidens had stopped training and came to watch. The saxon girl making a fool of herself, how amusing. 

Ivar's closeness, his scent and his body practically wrapped around her weren't helping. Edlynn felt her heart beating faster and faster as his fingers touched hers to position them around the arrow. 

"Now" he muttered into her ear when he was finally satisfied "Loose"

Edlynn tried her best to point at the tree, but the arrow flew next to it and got lost into one of the bushes. 

Everyone laughed. She could even hear Ivar chuckling next to her ear, and her cheeks reddened again. She glared at them and scoffed. 

"It's fine, you'll get better if you practice" Ivar had a smile on his lips, but Edlynn couldn't say if he was mocking her or actually being nice. 

One of the northmen said something loudly in their language, making everyone laugh even harder. Ivar sighed and shook his head, but had that small smirk on his face. 

Narrowing her eyes, Edlynn reached for another arrow, making everyone stop laughing and look at her with an eyebrow raised. Ivar had an even bigger smile on his face when she turned to look at him. 

"I want to try again"

_______________________________

Mildrith was furious. She couldn't understand why they kept discussing God knows what in that tent when Edlynn was held as a prisoner in the enemies' camp. It was true that she was more calmed now that the scout came back and assured she was well and unharmed. Mildrith always knew her friend would survive; Edlynn was strong and smart, but she also knew they could have hurt her in many ways. Especially Ivar the Boneless. 

She almost shivered when she thought about him. Mildrith had always wanted to see Ivar at least once, to see if what they said was true, but to be captured by him? Her mind had replayed every single story she had heard about that heathen from the women of York. 

Even that young viking she had had a quick affair with had talked about him; he was the most letal of the sons of Ragnar, a monster. 

And King Alfred knew it! He had met him more than once, he had been fighting in York after the Great Heathen Army killed both his grandfathers. How he had allowed them to keep Edlynn for so long was a mystery to her. 

Hilda kept praying, kneeled at the feet of what one day was Edlynn's bed with a cross between her hands. Mildrith didn't understand what praying would do, God didn't help her before and it seemed he wouldn't help her now. She was also angry at Him. 

More than once, she had wished she could use a sword so she could enter the northmen's camp and free her. 

"Mildrith" the nun sighed. She had dark circles under her eyes and her voice sounded weak. Hilda had barely slept or ate since Edlynn, the little girl she had raised almost as if she was her own, had been taken. She prayed day and night, hoping she would be well and no one would hurt her in any way "Please, stop pacing around the tent, sit here with me and let's pray"

"I don't want to pray" the young, raven-haired girl, clenched her fists, glaring at her "I want them to get out of that tent and go find Edlynn"

"They can't do that" Hilda sighed, her trembling hands rubbing her own face "The king is doing everything he can, Mildrith, and you know it, he appreciates Edlynn a lot, but they're asking for a high price, and he must think about the rest of the country too"

Mildrith scoffed. She hated it, she hated politics, war and negotiations. She couldn't understand it. They were in their own country! They were stronger! Why couldn't they just raise a bigger army to go and free her?

"We have do something" 

"We can't" the nun shook her head "You know we can't, we can only have faith and hope she will be returned to us soon"

The young girl sighed, sitting down on the bed. She didn't want to have faith nor pray, she wanted her friend back. Her only comfort was to know that Edlynn would have many stories to tell, when she came back. 

___________________________________

"They're asking for all of that, for a young woman?" 

Alfred raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the man who just spoke. 

"They're not asking anything, my lord, they demand all of this" he explained, slowly "And Edlynn isn't just a young woman, she is a dear friend, the daughter of one of my most trusted advisors and the sister to one of the men that I trust with my life every day"

"They want gold" Lord Eldred sighed. He was pale and had lost weight, Alfred hadn't seen him sleep nor eat for days "A lot of gold... And land, more land?" he sounded desperate. 

"Yes, but separated from the land I gave to Björn and Ubbe Ragnarsson" the king rubbed his face "They also want a truce, some time to settle on our lands" 

"That's the part that worries me" Lord Eldred shook his head "Why do they want time to settle? Do I have to choose between my daughter's death and a possible invasion?"

"We don't know if they plan an invasion, my lord" Alfred shrugged "For now, I am trying to save your daughter's life before anything else" 

"She must be so scared" her father rubbed his eyes "All alone, surrounded by barbarians, God knows what they are doing to her"

"Our scout assured she was unharmed, Lord Eldred, I believe him" the king softened his tone "Ivar won't hurt her for as long as we don't anger him" 

"I will pay as much as I can" Lord Edmund spoke for the first time since the reunion started "To ensure my lady's safe return"

Her father looked at her with a sad smile. 

"Thank you, my lord" Alfred nodded "The messenger is out there, ready to leave for their camp to give them our reply"

"What do you say, my king?" Queen Elsewith put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred took her hand softly and sighed, looking down at the table. For days, he had been thinking about his decision, trying to find the best solution for all of them. If he agreed, there would be consequences, Ivar would know he had an advantage, many of his lords wouldn't agree with him. If he refused, Edlynn would suffer things worse than death before her head was sent to them, he was nearly sure of that. 

Edlynn was a good girl. Responsible, obedient and polite. They had played together when they were children, and he couldn't stop thinking that it was Elsewith whom they wanted. Would they have so many doubts about saving her or not if it had been his queen?

He sighed. 

"I say we agree" he nodded "And that we will meet them in the forest to give them what they want in exchange for Lady Edlynn"

____________________________________

Ivar's arms hurt. It had been a while since he practiced so much archery, and the muscles of his back and arms were already sore when he retired to the tent. His face also hurt from laughing so much, and he didn't remember when was the last time he had laughed so much, probably it was when he was still with Igor. He couldn't help but smile softly remembering the kid he had learnt to love as if he was his own son. 

Before entering the tent, he could hear Edlynn whispering some words in English. He supposed she'd be reading, as she used to do since he let her read the books freely. He had to wait outside to force himself to stop smiling like an idiot before entering. 

Edlynn raised her head and smiled softly when he entered the tent. In part, it was because of her he had had so much fun that day, he never guessed that teaching archery to a saxon girl could be that entertaining.

She was also tired. Her arms hurt and she only wanted to get into bed and sleep, but at the same time every time she closed her eyes, with her head leant on the soft pillows and inhaled Ivar's scent her mind went back to his hands around her waist, his breath on her neck and the soft whispers with which he had guided her. She even remembered the small smile she had seen on his face when she had finally managed to struck the tree and her cheeks would redden. Now, seeing him entering the tent leant onto his crutch with clouded eyes from drinking so much mead, laughing with his brother and even letting himself take a nap next to the fire, made her heart beat faster again. 

"How are you, princess?" the playful tone made her nearly sigh in relief. He was still in a good mood.

"Tired" she muttered "But fine, it was... Interesting, to use a bow" 

Ivar hummed softly, sitting down on the bed as Edlynn closed the huge book she had on the bed, leaning to leave it on the floor, next to the bed, she kneeled behind him and watching him as he fiddled with the braces. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say but wanting to keep talking to him. 

"The men were quite impressed with you" he said, not looking at her "A shame we don't have time, I'm sure we could turn you into a fine shieldmaiden" 

Edlynn tried to hide her excited smile. 

"Really?" 

This time Ivar turned around a bit. His amazing eyes fixed on her curving lips before landing on her eyes. 

"Yes, I think you have potential, it would be though, we'd have to work a lot with those little arms and small hands, but we could do something" he shrugged "But we can't, you're too eager to go back to your castle, your husband and your dresses"

Her smiled faded slowly as he turned away once again. It was true she really wanted to see and hug Mildrith, Hilda, Edward and her father, but at the same time, she didn't want to say goodbye to Ivar. 

At first, she had been scared, even tried to run thinking those heathens would torture and kill her, remembering all those stories she had heard about the ruthless Ivar the Boneless. But that playful, blue-eyed northman that she had seen giggling with his brother, telling stories about his Gods and who had guided her until she had finally succeeded with the bow didn't look like the monster they described on their stories. It was almost human; a human with his own beliefs and ambitions that wasn't so different from all those men she had met in England. 

"Lord Edmund is not..."

"Not your husband yet, I know, princess" he chuckled "But he will be soon, right? Even if I would advise you to reconsider that marriage, taking in consideration that he didn't came to this camp to cut my head off for taking his woman" 

Edlynn chuckled. She knew Lord Edmund couldn't really make that decision, besides, she didn't expect him to risk his life for a woman he just met. 

"I can't reconsider anything, actually" she smiled sadly "It wasn't my decision" 

Ivar raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. Then he moved to take off his clothes, and Edlynn looked away with her cheeks flushed. 

"If I was your father, then, I wouldn't give my daughter to a man that wouldn't die for her" 

"I can't ask him that" she smiled, his words warmed her heart "He barely knows me" 

"Wouldn't you prefer to marry someone you loved?" Ivar got rid of his shirt, and Edlynn couldn't help but take a look of the dark lines of his back, shaped like a snake. 

"I..." she frowned "I will learn to love him, he's... He's good, a good man, he's nice and handsome and... I'm lucky that he chose me, I know many women that had to marry old men that didn't treat them well... Also, I don't know anyone who married for love" she chuckled. With time, she convinced herself that love was built, not found. All those tales Hilda had told her when she was little were fantasy. 

"I married for love" Ivar muttered, almost like he didn't mean for Edlynn to hear "I did love the woman I married"

She felt as if someone had kicked her chest. Suddenly, she stopped looking at him and felt stupid for even feeling sad about the fact that he had a wife. Of course he had a wife. 

Ivar groaned as he laid on the bed, covering his legs with the furs and closing his eyes as he relaxed against the pillows. 

"I didn't know you were married"

Ivar opened his eyes, looking up with what she could describe as a heartbroken expression. 

"I was" he muttered "Some time ago" 

Edlynn tilted her head with curiosity. 

"What happened to her?" she almost felt bad for asking, but Ivar didn't seem to mind. 

"She died" his jaw clenched "She betrayed me and she died"

"And... how was she?" 

"She was... Beautiful" he almost smiled, and Edlynn bit her lip, looking down "She looked like Freyja, she was blonde and had blue eyes" 

The opposite of me, she thought, and immediately felt stupid for even thinking it. 

"She sounds pretty" she smiled softly, hating that sad look on his eyes. Ivar then turned his head to look at her, and blinked slowly, almost like he was realizing something. 

"I've only loved three women in my life" he shrugged "And one of them was my mother" 

His face contorted again, almost like it pained him to think about her. 

"And who was the other one?" 

Ivar's lips curved on a smile. 

"The mother of my child" he muttered "She was a princess, like you, but she was mysterious while you are not" he chuckled. Edlynn glared at him, but ignored his comment once again. 

"I'm not a princess, though" 

"Because you don't want to" he shrugged "You could be a princess, even a queen, if you wanted to, you are pretty enough to conquer a king" 

"Me?" Edlynn giggled, blushing softly "No, I don't think so" 

"You would be a good queen" he insisted "You're strong and smart, you respect people" Ivar nodded.

"I still need to find a king" she shrugged "Still pretty impossible" 

"Lord Edmund could be your king" Ivar pronounced her betrothed's name mockingly, as always. 

"No" Edlynn shook her head "He's handsome, brave and good, but he couldn't be my king, nor my prince, I'd have to find another" 

The intensity of Ivar's gaze burned her skin. Edlynn looked away, and moved to lay down and rest her head on the pillows, sticking to her side of the bed as she always did. 

"I never knew my mother" she muttered, changing the topic before the tension on the tent escalated too much "She died not long after I was born... She was from Ireland, from a place called Dubh Linn, have you heard about it?" 

Ivar nodded slowly. His people had raided that place more than once.

"So she wasn't a saxon?" 

Edlynn shook her head. 

"Her father brought her here when his lands were taken from him, trying to procure a good future for her and marry her to a lord, my father asked for her hand... At least, that's what they always told me" she shrugged "Father always said I have her hair, and that I look like her... I think that's why he didn't want to raise me when she died, I think it was painful for him... But I can't complain, Hilda is great" Edlynn groaned and rubbed her eyes when she realized she was talking a lot "Please, forgive me, I talk too much" 

"No, it's fine" Ivar shook his head with a soft voice, he had turned to look at her, and he felt like he was looking at a goddess. Maybe it was the mead, maybe the exhaustion, but he couldn't help but move a bit closer to her. 

"My mother died too" he added "She was killed" he clenched his fists in rage "She always cared for me, she always protected me, even when my father wasn't there" he had a small, sad smile on his lips as he remembered the, sometimes suffocating, love his mother had showed him "And I miss her everyday" 

Edlynn nodded. Even if she didn't remember her mother, she also missed her. And in some way she wished she could have had such a relationship with her, maybe she would have been able to explain to her what was that thing she felt, laying down on a northmen's bed and looking at him closely. 

"You and I aren't so different, then" she pointed out, smiling softly. Was it her or they were closer now?

"I suppose we are not" the thought seemed to amuse him "Even if we worship different Gods and speak different languages" 

When Ivar turned his head again, Edlynn was so close he could feel her quick breathing on his lips. It was nearly as intoxicating as the mead he had drank. 

Ivar's hand reached to caress her hair, making Edlynn shudder and gasp, almost like she realized what she was doing. 

"Is it not... Inappropriate to be so close to a heathen, princess?" he teased a bit, enjoying the way her cheeks turned red once again. 

"At this point..." she sighed, barely able to think about anything that wasn't Ivar "I don't really care" 

That made him laugh and his grip on her hair tightened. Edlynn wasn't lying, she couldn't think about God or anything that weren't his blue eyes and his lips parted. Without even thinking about it, she leant in while closing her eyes, and didn't stop until she felt his warm lips against hers. 

Edlynn had never kissed anyone, unlike Mildrith and some of the girls at the court, that were stolen a kiss or two in the stables or in a hidden corner of the castle. She never looked at the boys, too occupied with her books, her prayers and other important things. But she could understand now what the priests meant when they talked about temptation. Ivar's lips were addictive, better than anything she had ever tasted, and ignited something inside her that she couldn't recognize. 

The kiss was slow, passionate but also shy. They stopped kissing for a moment, but she had barely opened her eyes when Ivar's hand cupped her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek softly before he leant in again. And Edlynn had to put her hand on his warm chest to balance herself, moving her lips against his and leaning more and more into him, feeling like she would die if she wasn’t as close to him as possible. 

When they finally broke the kiss, none of them opened their eyes. Ivar was panting, one hand secured against her neck, to keep her lips close to his, and the other one had landed on her waist when she had leant into him almost straddling his waist, and his heart was beating so fast it was almost scary. Her forehead leant into his and Ivar sighed. It had been a long time since he had felt that warmth inside him. 

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