#they’re so rarely spotted here that I must go tell him/her I love them immediately

[mer-se]

when u wake up to a text from ur dad telling you orcas were spotted down the cape swimming with dolphins 🥲🐬🩵

[apompkwrites]

for the reader impact can you do jean and barbara?<3 thank you!

reader impact || first meeting: gunnhildr sisters

series masterlist characters: barbara, jean genre: fluff summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you. notes: i've never written these girls before... and honestly i've never written any of the other girls :(( i'm trying!! i hope this is good!

barbara -

barbara doesn't get to stream too often.

or at least, not as often as she'd like to.

as an idol, she still has a lot of responsiblities outside of streaming.

you know, training, concerts, all of that.

but, when she has the time, she loves streaming with her big sister :D

she doesn't do a lot of music streams solely because she needs a break from all of the idol work she does.

she isn't too into pvp based games and, instead, prefers to play more lighthearted ones!

she's a very soft and sweet streamer :)

her chat is normally very sweet as well because of how hard the mods are on how they act.

jean is also a mod on her streams whenever she isn't streaming.

and vice versa!

barbara loves to please her fans, so it's no surprise when she picks up genshin impact from many fan requests!

this game is probably the only she's fine with playing combat for.

once she starts, she absolutely loves the music.

she doesn't do music streams like i said, but she'll still fawn over any ost she genuinely enjoys.

anyway, here she goes starting the game.

she really loves the story so far, despite it starting a bit... sad.

she actually almost cried in the beginning of that.

just thinking about her sister being taken from her was something she hated imagining.

the more she plays, the more interesting the game becomes.

especially because she's following a bard who is, apparently, the god of the city she's currently in.

she feels really bad for him though, considering a close friend of his has seemingly been manipulated.

she doesn't like that she has to steal the lyre from the church...

and she feels even worse when the lyre they were supposed to take is stolen by someone else right in front of them.

but, luckily, they get it back.

and then it breaks...

she's afraid of the part of the game where she needs to actually return it.

and unfortunately, that time comes way too quick.

she meets with the acting grand master at the church, nervously fiddling with her fingers as the game takes over for dialogue.

"this is (name), the deacon/ess of the church."

that nervousness (almost) washes away as soon as she sees you onscreen :0

"may the anemo archon protect you."

"THEY'RE SO CUTE!"

she absolutely loves your voice!!!

be it soft and quiet or loud and excitable, she doesn't care.

you're cute and she wants nothing more than to have you as a permanent part of her team.

but then she's reminded of the fact that she's broken the lyre...

her character holds it out to you, causing to reel back in shock.

"AAAAAARGH!!! THE HOLY LYRE!!!"

"I'M SO SORRY!"

and when you start praying, she'll pray with you.

she just wants to make it up to you :(

after the strange... encounter with la signora, her character passes out.

only to wake up with you right in front of her!!!!!

you look so soft and sweet and--

she doesn't expect you to come to her team immediately because of the gacha system, so she's ready to just save primogems until she can get you.

but!!! she does!

and you best bet that you'll be on her team until this game ends.

jean -

jean, just like her younger sister, doesn't get to stream as often as she would like to.

she multitasks a lot so it's hard for her to put out good content when she's preoccupied by so many other projects.

luckily, the rare occasions she does stream, they're more relaxed.

the only reason she's able to calm down while streaming is that it still feels like she's getting things done.

it also lets her have some fun while working :D

her chat keeps trying to get her to take a break but... she just can't.

the things she does onstream are pretty normal.

she doesn't play games too often.

instead, she likes to do her everyday work onstream :)

like cooking! she absolutely loves doing cooking streams so that she can get two things done at once :D

the times she gets to actually play games are when barbara's home.

she'd rather play co-op games so they can spend time together.

because of that, barbara's the one that actually encourages her to start playing genshin!

it's a rather long game with objectives, so she thinks it'll be the best type of solo game for jean to play.

and! there's co-op so they can play together :))

just like her sister, she gets a bit emotional during the intro cutscene.

she just can't stand the thought.

as the game progresses, she actually finds herself having fun with a more slow-paced solo game.

of course, there are moments where it picks up.

once dvalin/stormterror is introduced, jean finds herself needing to go to the knights' headquarters.

at first she thinks she'll get to explore the actual building.

instead, she gets to go straight to a cutscene.

it pans up and all she knows is that she's in love with your design!

"(name), what's the hurry? i thought we agreed to meet them here."

the librarian in your office is a close second to her favorite character.

that spots already been reserved for you and you haven't even talked yet!

"there have been sightings of stormterror outside the city. once we meet, we must..."

just from how your character is written, she can tell how hardworking you are.

and that's exactly what jean looks for in a character.

she just... relates to you so much??

and her chat agrees.

you two are practically the same person at this point.

she appreciates how straightforward you are and definitely looks forward to getting to know you more :))

[antebunny]

never fear, your fairy godmother is here!

(It's Wei Wuxian. He's the fairy godmother)

Wei Wuxian is riding high off a difficult case finally closed when the next call comes through. He’s staring aimlessly into the beautiful delta waters of Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng when the tingling begins, a familiar sensation somewhere in his chest that tells him that somewhere is a worthy human in need of a guide for their happy ever after.

“–So then I thought, well what am I supposed to do? She doesn’t want a lover or a partner, but her future isn’t fame or riches either.”

Wei Wuxian isn’t sure that Jiang Cheng is actually listening to him, but he’s very proud of himself, so Jiang Cheng can suck it up. He’s used to finding his new charges in difficult and tragic circumstances, but he’s rarely found someone in quite such a sticky situation as poor Qin Su.

“And she insists that she doesn’t have someone in mind,” Wei Wuxian continues. “So you know what I did?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Cheng says vaguely, because he’s not listening at all. “Very cool.” He’s not a very good brother, Jiang Cheng. Well, they’re not related, but they also weren’t really born, they just kind of exist, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t worry too much about it.

“I found her a whole team!” Wei Wuxian finishes proudly. “I got a doctor from Qishan, who was looking to get away from her family, and her little brother, and a top disciple from Lanling, and boom! Team of four! That’s a family right there. They’re going to be friends for life.”

“Do you ever consider not boasting about yourself?” Jiang Cheng wonders out loud.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian objects. “I’ll have you know I’m the number one fairy godmother!”

Jiang Cheng merely rolls his eyes. “As you haven’t stopped saying for the past hundred years.”

“Well, it’s–” Wei Wuxian stops mid-sentence and puts one hand behind him on the wooden planks of the boardwalk so he doesn’t collapse when his stomach rolls.

“Another one?” Jiang Cheng demands. “So soon?”

“I’m in high demand,” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“But jiejie and I have spent all day making a celebratory dinner,” Jiang Cheng says, dismayed. Then he corrects himself. “I mean, jiejie’s spent all day making dinner for us! Do you want to disappoint her? Do you?!”

Wei Wuxian stands up. If he wasn’t still flushed with success, if only he’d listened to the odd, twisting sensation that said this was not a normal case of a damsel in need of true love, perhaps he would’ve stayed. Perhaps none of what followed would have happened. But perhaps it was always destined to happen.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Wei Wuxian declares foolishly, and vanishes.

He appears in a thematically dark and twisted forest near sundown. The wind is whispering ominously through the leaves. Wei Wuxian pushes aside a branch in order to enter the clearing from which an ugly sobbing sound is coming from. It must be his new client.

By the light of the dying sun, Wei Wuxian can make out a hunched form dressed in fine white robes. The crying is quiet, but the person’s back shudders. They seem to be holding something. Wei Wuxian takes a moment to adjust. A great pair of black and red butterfly wings appear on his back. Humans more readily accept that he’s capable of inhuman feats if there’s something inhuman (but non threatening) about him. He usually goes for crow or raven wings, but he thinks the current setting might be a little inappropriate for that. Many of Wei Wuxian’s fellow fairy godmothers also opt for fancy robes, but Wei Wuxian’s never really felt comfortable with them.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Hello,” he calls.

The man–because it is a man, Wei Wuxian quickly realizes, with a beauty he’s come to expect from his clients, and a cultivator’s sword–whirls around. He hasn’t got a very expressive face, but Wei Wuxian has spent hundreds of years around people. His client’s eyes are wild, disbelieving. He’s got a Lan ribbon on his forehead, one of the inner clan, if Wei Wuxian isn’t mistaken, and he never is. There are two tear tracks running down his cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Wei Wuxian steps closer. His new client staggers to his feet and looks away, but whatever he was holding or looking at is gone. When he looks back at Wei Wuxian, there’s an awestruck look of recognition on his face. Wei Wuxian grins, pleased to see that his influence has reached the ears of humans.

The man takes one shaky step forward. He seems to be trying to drink in Wei Wuxian’s presence, soak him in just by looking at him. Wei Wuxian can’t blame him. He is very impressive.

On that thought, Wei Wuxian spreads his arms wide. “Never fear, mortal! Your hour of distress has come to an end!” Above their heads, a cloud drifts away and allows the moon to beam through, bathing Wei Wuxian with soft light. “It is I, Wei Wuxian, your fairy godmother!”

Now his client is just staring at him blankly. Wei Wuxian’s grin falters. He lowers his arms and clears his throat. “Perhaps you didn’t h–”

“What’s a fairy godmother?” The client interrupts.

Really?

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I am in charge of finding you a happy ending, in whatever form that may take,” he answers.

He waits another beat. This is usually where his clients start thanking him.

The man does not look very impressed. “How does that involve butterfly wings?”

“I–!” Wei Wuxian starts, very offended and very taken aback. “I…thought they would be less threatening than crow wings?”

The man stares at him. Wei Wuxian vanishes the wings with a thought.

“Well, if you have a preference, just let me know,” Wei Wuxian grumbles sulkily. “I am at your service, after all.”

“That is unnecessary,” the man says flatly. The tears haven’t dried but he’s composed himself. He turns away from Wei Wuxian deliberately.

“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian asks, chasing his client through the clearing when the cultivator starts to walk away.

“I am not in need of your help,” the ungrateful bastard says.

“Wh–! Yes, you are!” Wei Wuxian argues. “I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t a worthy damsel in distress in need of my services.”

At that term damsel in distress the man turns and gives him a withering, wintry glare. It’s under-cut by a deep well of loss, pain, and sadness that Wei Wuxian is convinced he can see on his client’s face. And to the rejection of damsel of distress, he can only shrug. It’s true.

“I’ll have you know I am the top fairy godmother,” Wei Wuxian says, in reply to the glare, as pretentiously as he can. “For the past hundred years. I have never failed a client. Whatever it is you want, true love, honor, treasure, a kingdom, I can find it for you. I promise you I have seen it all before.”

His client finally stops running away from him. Wei Wuxian saunters up to him. “If it’s love you’re worrying about, people are less narrow-minded than you think. There’s bound to be someone out there who’s exactly who you’re looking for. Well, most of them. Actually, my clients are sometimes a little narrow-minded. One of them specifically requested that I find a true love for him that had never been turned into an animal. A little narrow-minded, don’t you think?”

At this point, Wei Wuxian is up in his face, and his client is starting to look a little overwhelmed. Wei Wuxian backs up, gives him a little space. The Lan cultivator turns to look at the spot in the clearing where he’d been kneeling before Wei Wuxian showed up.

“Can you bring back the dead?” His client asks abruptly.

Wei Wuxian falters. “That’s–ehhh, that’s a, uh, gray area. Kind of depends. I’m going to lean towards no. Yeah, feels like a no. No necromancy here. I have definitely never done that before.”

The righteous Lan cultivator actually has the nerve to look disappointed in him. “Then I have no use for you,” he says stiffly, and starts to walk away again.

“Okay, hold up!” Wei Wuxian splutters, hurrying after him. The man does not hold up, forcing Wei Wuxian to keep pace through the dark forest. It’s no problem for Wei Wuxian, but rather rude, all things considered. “How rude! Here I am offering to solve your life’s problems and you question my abilities–you know I once created a whole celestial mountain for one of my clients–hey! Think of my reputation,” he begs, when his rude client continues to walk away. “I have never, ever failed a client before. Think of how it would look if one of my clients just walked away! Just give me a chance. Please. Please?”

His runaway client finally stops running away, right in a thicket of trees. Wei Wuxian almost bumps into him.

“This is important to you?” His client asks finally, without looking back.

“Oh yes, very,” Wei Wuxian knows immediately, because that’s the thing about his clients. They’re all good people, whether they’d like to admit it or not. The only people who like to help more than them are the fairy godmothers. “It would make me very happy to make you happy.”

The man’s shoulders relax ever-so slightly. “Very well.”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian fist-pumps. He glances up at the moon, reminding himself that humans have to do things like eat and sleep. “Okay, first things first, I’ll get you home,” he decides. “Tomorrow we can–”

“I have no home,” his new client interrupts in a dispassionate tone that suggests this subject has one too many emotions for him to handle.

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow internally and thinks of his Lan clan ribbon, but says nothing. He merely mentally files this client into the hundreds of lost-their-home clients that have come before him. There’s no telling why his new client lost his home. Usually they tell Wei Wuxian about their woes willingly, without Wei Wuxian having to beg them to burden him with their problems. But there’s a whole host of solutions to the no-home problem, exactly none of which Wei Wuxian can think of when the man reaches up and pulls his forehead ribbon off with trembling fingers.

“Um,” Wei Wuxian warbles. He averts his eyes from the now bare forehead. Later he’ll chalk it up to the difficulty in acquiring this client and the subsequent need to prove his powers that leads him to suggest: “W-what about my house?”

His client turns to face him. He looks a little shocked, but mostly confused.

“I live in the heavenly Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian says grandly. Well, he tries to say it grandly, but it comes out matter-of-fact. “I’ve got plenty of room. And you needn’t worry about politics up there.”

Slowly, his client nods, his face unreadable.

“Great,” Wei Wuxian says brightly. He reaches for his client’s hand, ignores the scandalized look he receives, and vanishes both of them to Lotus Pier.

They appear in a pavilion at the end of one of the many boardwalks. Enormous pastel lotus flowers dot the still waters. In the distance, the still waters cascade into a roaring waterfall that pours off the edge of the heavens. Above them, the sun is setting. Wei Wuxian’s client is winded from the sudden travel, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t let go of his hand. The scent of fresh water and spice sets in.

When the client steadies himself, Wei Wuxian tugs him out of the pavilion. The human’s eyes widen as the halls of Lotus Pier come into view, and Wei Wuxian smirks to himself. That’s the only reason why he’s sad that humans don’t come to Lotus Pier. He’d love a chance to show off his home more.

His client is still trying to take in the magnificent sloping roofs, the purple clouds and the dusk orange sky, when Wei Wuxian urges him into a walk.

“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, still smiling widely. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

[phoenix-manga]

Vice Dorm Leaders getting along with Pokémon:

It didn’t take long for the vice dorm leaders to get involved with the Pokemon too. The shenanigans that happened with them are... interesting to say the least.

Trey + Slurpuff

“The Unbirthday Party was a success thanks to this little guy’s sense of smell… Though I should expect to make a large portion for it, the number of sweets it ate was shocking for everyone!”

Trey was a bit skeptical when Phoebe lent him Slurpuff and told him that chefs would use them to sniff out the freshest ingredients but if they say so then it must be worth a try.

Needless to say, he was pleasantly surprised to see the cake thing nudge him to the best ingredients to use for his sweets. He rewarded Slurpuff with a spoon covered in frosting or batter. The Pokémon mostly stayed out of his way and only has to bring him some tools or supplies.

When he presented the sweets he made, everyone including Riddle were almost knocked into a food coma with how good it was. Even Trey was lost in the trance of the flavor, but he was snapped out of it when he spotted Slurpuff eating almost half of the buffet table, he rushed to it and told it to ask him for more sweets to prevent any problems.

Ruggie + Crobat

“That Phoebe kid feeds you this? Aww man! I’m so jealous, now I wish I was a Pokémon!”

That one-time Ruggie came across Crobat was when he passed by Ramshackle to see a large bat creature with four wings eating from a large bowl filled with berries, Poke puffs and even poffins. The amount it ate distracted him from his usual task and he only snapped out of it when Crobat made eye-contact with him.

Crobat wasn’t sure why a stranger was here but it assumed it wanted food so Crobat nudged a Poke puff towards Ruggie’s direction before going back to chow down. Ruggie didn’t plan on asking it for any food, he was just curious but since it offered, who is he to decline? Picking up the Poke puff and taking a bite, he immediately devours it till there’s nothing left. That was the tastiest pastry he has had; they were even better than the ones in the cafeteria.

He hears Phoebe call out to Crobat and he took this time to scram before he was found. That kid pampers their creatures like royalty, he admits that he once had the thought that wishes that he was a Pokémon too. Ruggie now sneaks to go to Ramshackle and Crobat sneaks him a portion of its food, Ruggie repays it by offering some to it as well. They just formed this unspoken lunch trade. The one time Phoebe made malasadas for Crobat, Ruggie was in heaven lemme tell you.

Phoebe has no idea about this, this was just a secret thing between Crobat and Ruggie. One time Phoebe was with Crobat in the field and it spots Ruggie, Crobat immediately goes to him and flies around him. Phoebe assumed that Crobat took a liking to Ruggie because it probably sensed that he’s a foodie. Oh, if only she knew.

Jade + Lapras

“Such kind yet protective eyes you have~ I’m far from trustworthy yet you nuzzle against me like a seal, this is quite interesting”

Phoebe asked Azul if she can be allowed to have her water Pokémon swim about in Octavinelle. The lake is much too small for the larger ones. Azul gave her permission but in exchange she has to work part-time at the lounge, Azul is capitalizing as usual. The mention of Pokémon being at Octavinelle brought more customers to the lounge, the one that got the most attention was Lapras.

It was very friendly and even paused to look inside the lounge from the windows. Phoebe was not surprised that Lapras was friendly, what she didn’t expect was that it got attached to Jade for some reason. She would have thought it was Sharpedo or even Eelektross who would get along with the cunning vice dorm leader. But instead, Lapras is swimming happily in circles wanting Jade’s attention.

Jade, of course, finds the Pokémon endearing and would always take his time to pet it whenever he’s on break. Even offering Lapras a small treat or two, Lapras is enjoying it. There was a rare occasion that Jade swam with Lapras in his eel form, at times he swims alongside Lapras or have it chase him through the water, other times he just sleeps on Lapras’ back as it swam.

Jamil + Serperior

“Quite the proud one you are, at least you’re more tolerable than Kalim…”

Kalim promised a favor without consulting Jamil again, this time it was to look after some of her Pokémon. Kalim got caught up in the excitement of having to get close with those strange creatures that he didn’t think that it could be troublesome.

Jamil stopped in his tracks at the sight of Kalim with a large green snake behind him. Boy did he get quite the scolding from Jamil, but what can he do now that Kalim as already offered? He just decides to “help” him take care of Serperior. Thankfully, Phoebe provided a list of ingredients that Serperior likes, the list was as long as an A4 paper but at least Jamil has his options cut out for him. He doesn’t have to guess and waste any food.

Serperior mostly kept to itself and wanders around the dorm, inspecting its surroundings. Kalim tries to hug it but it just wraps its body around him and places him a few feet away before slithering off. Serperior will feel terrible if he smacks the sunshine boy away, so it places him at a good distance.

Jamil often sees it staring at him, its sharp eyes resemble his own. He never expected to have it get attached to him in a rather proud way. Everywhere Jamil goes, Serperior follows at a distance and there were rare moments it coils near his bedroom door, and Jamil walks out one morning only to fall into its coils. This strange behavior was suspicious at first but then Jamil learned to get used to it. Serperior is a curious one but then he thinks its more tolerable than Kalim.

Speaking of Kalim, Serperior sensed that most of Jamil’s stress comes from Kalim being a goofball that he is, so it catches Kalim and puts him in a coil hold when he’s about to do something reckless.

Rook + Oricorio

“Oh my! Such grace and beauty you possess to dance with excellent skills! Wait, you mean to tell me it had four forms? I would like to see it, please show me”

He spotted the dancing bird Pokémon in the field when they were having a PE class. Oricorio was in its Pom-Pom form and doing a cheer dance to motivate Grimm to fly better. He couldn’t help but approach Phoebe and ask her about Oricorio.

Needless to say, he was very interested. A creature that has four different forms that represents a different environment? It was like a fox having more than just a winter coat. He asked to see its other forms, it would be tiring to have it change forms constantly so Phoebe just brings out Rotom to show him the pictures of the Oricorio forms. Rook admired the pictures and each one gave off a different kind of beauty.

Oricorio, being a simp for pretty boys, took a liking to Rook. He was just so charming, Oricorio does its happy dance and follows him whenever it sees him. Phoebe once asked him if he can keep Oricorio company for a few days, he accepts the offer and he brings it to Pomefiore. Oricorio also liked Vil and Epel due to how charming their looks are, Vil is fine with it as long as it isn’t a troublemaker while Epel is kind of bummed out when he thinks it likes him because of his fragile looks.

The moment Rook was shown its changed forms in person, he is taking out his camera and is taking burst shots from all sorts of angles and lighting. Out of all the four forms Oricorio has, he loves its Baile form the most, the way it dances with embers around it in a display of passion and power. He looks forward to Phoebe asking him to look after Oricorio again.

Ortho + Emolga & Pachirisu

“Hey! That tickles, big brother you should try and pet them! They’re like those plushies you sometimes order in your room. Isn’t it like having your favorite plushy as a pet?”

Emolga and Pachirisu are both cheeky Pokémon and a duo for trouble. Emolga and Pachirisu were seen making student’s hair go static and stick out with small electric waves.

Ortho spotted the two behind some bushes and immediately approaches them, this is the first time Emolga and Pachirisu were caught off guard and startled. Their electric attacks don’t do much to Ortho due to his robotic circuits, if anything he considers it as some form of tickling.

Ortho thought how cute they looked and they resemble plush toys in his brother’s room. Emolga and Pachirisu was weirded out by Ortho at first but his cheerfulness was infectious and it didn’t take long for them to treat him as part of their group. Whenever Ortho passes by, the two would pounce on him and swing from his arms and legs, Ortho likes this game, he finds it useful to use his scanner to see where they might pop out next.

One time, he took them to see his brother and they made his hair stick out. He was startled but Ortho found it amusing, he got to see what would his hair look like if it stuck out. Emolga and Pachirisu still do their pranks but its less due to them wanting to find Ortho first.

Lilia + Dragapult

“A prankster and yet you dote on the little ones on your horns? We might be cousins from a distant world, fufu~ Let’s go scare Sebek some more!”

Dragapult pranks Sebek a lot, poor boy gets it from almost a lot of Pokémon. It once shot a Dreepy in his shirt causing him to squirm and try to get it out, he looked like he was doing a crazy monkey dance. Lilia appreciates this little prankster and he would join it in tormenting other students but mostly Sebek because his reactions were very amusing to watch. The two even went and started a pranking competition where they tally their number of pranked students for the whole month.

Lilia was allowed to play and hold the small Dreepy that reside in Dragapult’s horns. He melted at the sight of the little cuties playfully tussling his hair, which gave him an idea to mimic Dragapult’s horns(?) With an easy hair growth potion and a LOT of hairspray, he came to school with his hair in Dragapult’s style.

The sight alone in Diasomnia sent everyone, including Malleus into a stunned silence, Dragapult added fuel to the flame by letting the Dreepy reside in his hair for the rest of the day. Crowley saw Lilia and mumbled how the trends have gotten crazier every day. Cater took pictures and he laughed at the sight because it was so outlandish. Kalim was confused but precious boy still appreciated his hairstyle nonetheless. The perfect chaotic duo.

[hispipsqueak]

Happy New Year

Bakugo x F! Pregnant Reader Fluff

Summary:

You and Bakugo have been keeping a secret, and plan to reveal it at your New Year’s Party.

A/N: Here’s some sweet fluff to end the year. I have a soft spot for Dad!Bakugo and had to write something adorable for him. I hope you enjoy it and your new year is full of happiness and love! Also, I had to look up so much stuff about pregnancy. I hope no one finds my search history :P

TW: Pregnancy. mild cursing. Otherwise, super mega fluffy!

“Why do they have to come over?!” Bakugo grumbled for the thirtieth time. 

You looked up from the pan you were currently scrubbing. 

“Katsuki...they’re our friends! Plus, we are going to announce the big news.” You looked down at your small baby bump.

You and Bakugo had found out you were going to be parents nearly 5 months ago and you both were extremely excited. You had waited to tell everyone until it was deemed safe by your doctor and with the new year approaching, you figured it would be easy to gather everyone you loved to spill the news.

Of course, Bakugo was going to make it difficult though. 

You knew he was just as excited as you about the addition to your little family, but whereas you were open about discussing all your fears, thoughts, and anxieties, Bakugo was a little more closed off and channeled the extra stress into other things.

You went back to washing the dishes and felt your husband’s biceps wrap around your body, his hands softly resting on your belly. He nuzzled into your neck.

“We could just send a text and stay in together. Watch the fireworks from the balcony, relax. Plus, are you sure you want those loud idiots stressing you and the baby out?” He murmured into your ear.

You giggled and swatted him with the dish rag. 

“I literally live with a walking explosion and you’re worried our friends are too loud? I mean sure, maybe Present Mic, but I doubt he doesn’t already have plans.” You trailed off, before he spun you around and lifted you up, bridal style.

“That’s enough, off to bed with you mama. You’re too snappy tonight and clearly not thinking straight.” He chuckled as you squealed into his chest.

“‘Tsuki, you’re so annoying!” You laughed as he gently tossed you into bed.

He crawled on top of you, pressing your body into the soft mattress and mountains of pillows you insisted on sleeping with.

“I may be annoying, but I’m also the father of this little brat inside you.” He muttered, vermillion eyes shining. You smiled up at him.

He had grown up a lot since your UA days. While he still had his hot-headed moments, he was playful and more considerate of your feelings and you knew he was going to be an amazing father. He even changed his screensaver on his phone to your sonogram, though he would never admit it. 

“We’re gonna have fun, babe. It’s gonna be a good night with all our friends and we can finally be open about the baby. Plus, it’d be nice for our kid to meet all their aunts and uncles.” You grinned, thinking of how your friends would react to this.

Katsuki groaned, rolling over. “Kiri is gonna fucking cry, I know it.” 

You laughed and curled up next Bakugo. 

“Yeah...probably.”

-------

New Year’s Eve was finally here. You had been busy preparing everything for the party tonight and your heart fluttered at the idea of sharing your big news with everyone. Bakugo had to finish up some last minute stuff at the agency so he was going to be home right before the party began. You were pulling another tray of baked sweets out of the oven when your phone chirped.

You glanced over to see another message from your group chat with the girls.

Mina: Can’t wait to see you Y/N, I MISS YOU

Momo: Are you sure you don’t need us to bring anything? We don’t want to be bad guests.

Ochaco: We can also help set up if you need us to! 

Y/N: I’m totally fine. Katsuki arranged for food to be delivered and Sero and Kirishima are picking up all the drinks for tonight. Just bring yourselves!

Y/N: Also yes, before you ask, I am making cookies.

Mina: HECK YES! :)

They started arranging transportation plans and you clicked your phone off, to focus on transferring the cookies onto a cooling tray. Once that was settled, you jogged upstairs to get dressed. Luckily, you weren’t really showing yet so your friends wouldn’t immediately know when you greeted them, but you still wanted to wear something loose and flowy.

You settled on a deep red dress that cinched right under your chest and opened in an A-line skirt. You rifled through your jewelry box until you found the necklace Katsuki had given you for your birthday. It was a large black teardrop shaped diamond on a simple thin silver chain. You reached behind your back to clasp the necklace and felt a warm hand enclose yours.

“I didn’t even hear you come in.” You smiled looking at your husband in the mirror. He finished attaching your necklace and met your eyes. 

“I just got here. The food’s here too, so everything’s done. I just need to get dressed.” He said, twirling you around so you were facing him. He rubbed your tiny bump. “How’s the brat been today?”

“Surprisingly chill. Though the baby did require a couple pints of ice cream for breakfast.” You laughed.

“Uh-huh...blame it on the baby.” He chuckled and gave you a kiss on your forehead. You could smell the scent of his body wash, a spicy cinnamon musk combined with his natural caramel scent. He must have showered at the agency and you buried your face in his chest, enveloping yourself in him.

“Stop sniffing me like a dog, crazy woman.” He flicked you on the head and you pouted. He crouched down so he could kiss your belly.

“I’m sorry your mama is nuts.” He laughed before pressing his lips to your stomach. 

You smiled. Though you were excited to tell your friends about the news, you kind of loved having this little secret just between you two. These moments, with just you, Bakugo, and the baby, were magical and felt so...pure. Untainted from anything.

-----

“We’re HERE!” Mina’s voice echoed through your entryway. She was dressed in a gold sparkly jumpsuit and her aura just screamed “Happy New Year”. She was followed by Momo, dressed in a sparkly green dress and Tsu, who wore yellow sundress. Soon the door opened again and Ochaco was ushered in by Deku. You grinned at her blushing face. Her and Deku had finally admitted their feelings for each other after years of pining and they were adorable together. She had on a cute pink knee-length dress that matched Deku’s tie, which contrasted nicely against the dark teal suit he wore.

The rest of your friends piled in slowly afterwards, with Sero and Kirishima carrying cases of booze. You had made sure to stock your house with plenty of non-alcoholic drinks as well but you knew the rest of your friends planned to party hard, since it was rare to all get together.

Once everyone made it in, and Iida stopped arm chopping at Denki for some unknown broken social rule, Kirishima raised his beer.

“Can we just toast to Y/N and Bakubro, for hosting this party? It feels like a million years since I’ve seen you guys.”

You giggled and looked at your husband. He rolled his eyes and looked at you nodding. You turned back to the group.

“Actually, we invited you here because of something else…” You looked down at your belly, and heard gasps.

“ARE YOU…?”

“You’re…?”

“Wait what…?”

Bakugo looked exasperated with the suspense.

“We’re having a baby, idiots.”

A loud cheer erupted from your friends and immediately you were swarmed by the girls, asking a million questions. The guys were clapping Bakugo on the back and as expected Kirishima was already tearing up.

“So manly bro. You’re gonna be the manliest dad!” He sobbed while squeezing Bakugo in a tight hug. Sero and Denki snickered watching this. 

“Get off of me idiot. I’m not the pregnant one.” Bakugo growled trying to pry the redhead off him. Kirishima turned to you and started hugging you tightly. 

“I’m so proud of you guys!”

“You’re proud of them for —”

A ribbon of tape wrapped itself around Kaminari’s mouth before he could finish his sentence. You threw a grateful look toward Sero, who grinned over his beer.

The rest of the night turned into an impromptu baby shower, with everyone fawning over you two. You were asked a zillion questions, everyone offered to babysit, and even Todoroki offered his quirk if you ever needed pain relief (which Bakugo immediately shot down).

“I can take care of my own wife, IcyHot Bastard.” He grunted through his teeth. You smacked Bakugo upside the head before apologizing to Todoroki. You placed your hand back to rest on your belly and felt a small flutter. 

“Holy shit...babe!” You’re mouth dropped. Immediately, the room went quiet and Bakugo rushed to your side. 

“What, what’s wrong??!” He placed his hand on your stomach and his eyes widened.

“The baby...the baby’s kicking.” You smiled, eyes pricking with tears. The two of you looked at each other and you could see tears threatening to spill from your husband’s eyes. He grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, seeming to forget where he was.

“I love you, I love you both so goddamn much” He whispered to you, before kissing you again. 

“Bro, you’re gonna make her have twins!” Kaminari yelled out, before being smacked in the head by both Mina and Kirishima. You giggled and pulled your husband close to you, before he blasted his friend out of the house. 

“Guys, it’s almost midnight!” Momo said looking at her watch. “Ten…”

“Nine…”

“Eight…”

You looked around at all your cheering friends.

“Seven…”

“Six…”

You looked at your husband, who gave you a soft smile back.

“Five…”

“Four…”

You looked down at your baby bump.

“Three...two...one.”

“Happy New Year!”

[bluefirewrites]

8 and 45 for juke pls!

8. roommates AU

45. pretending to hate each other AU

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

*****

Julie and Luke collapse onto their couch, both looking worse for wear. But once the door shut behind them, and ensuring that the curtains are drawn, they let themselves relax into each other.

It’s a lot of work, running around and doing what they’re doing, putting on the theatrics to keep the whole world from finding out, but it’s all the more worth it- to come home and be with each other. 

Julie groans, kicking off her boots, not caring where they land on the floor,"One day...we're gonna tell them."

Her statement’s immediately met with a scoff, though it sounds more like a pained wince, given what they just narrowly escaped.

"Oh yeah, that'd be a good idea,” Luke grumbles, tugging Julie closer to him. He just wants to bury his face into her curls and let his worries slip away. 

But Julie, ever the realist, keeps prodding at the dreaded subject. 

“Can we keep this up though?”

“Alright, but what would I say? ‘I've been rooming with the girl who's always foiling our plans’?"

Julie untangles herself from his hold and gives her super villain roommate a pointed look, "They've already met me."

"Yeah. As Julie. They don't know you're Miss Butterfly." He nods at her purple leather get up. 

"But I know them as Alex and Reggie. Not your evil accomplices. Here's to- I don't know- hoping that when they find out, that they'll see me for me,"

The ‘like you did’ is very much there even if it has gone unspoken. 

Luke has to admit, he didn’t take the news very well when he found out about Julie’s identity. 

With the life he’s led- being one of L.A’s most notorious criminals, he’s always moving around, making sure his cover’s not blown. So when he got matched up with Julie on his hunt for a new roommate, he thought he hit the jackpot. 

Works late hours? Rarely home? Friendly but keeps to herself? That way he could keep doing his job. 

Little did he know it’s because Julie was hiding a secret of her very own. 

For Julie, as reputable hero Miss Butterfly, would keep running into Dark Riff and his band of thieves on her rounds. Actually fighting him almost every night. The papers had actually dubbed them as the arch nemeses, which had been true. For a while. 

That was until, they both caught the other one trying to sneak back into their apartment, still suit up no less. 

(The fight on their balcony had been intense- kinda legendary-until they figured it out). 

They had sat at their kitchen table afterwards, nursing their injuries. At point, Julie had tossed him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. Which was the least she could do since she had given him the black eye to begin with. 

“So what happens now?”

Luke thought that now that Julie knows who he is, she would march him to the station and turn him in. Julie thought the same. 

“Sounds like a morning conversation,” 

And with that they dropped it, and headed to their respective rooms. They spend the whole night ruminating over what happened, trying to grapple with the fact that their lovely roommate had been their arch nemesis this whole time. 

Breakfast the following morning was normal. The sight of Julie, out of her costume, making pancakes for them like usual, is enough to knock some sense into Luke. 

He likes rooming with her. And he likes the area. He doesn’t want to up and move just yet. He could tell that’s the last thing Julie wants too. 

“No one else knows?” Julie had asked him over coffee. No handcuffs, no calls to the police just yet. 

“Let’s keep it that way,” 

“For both of our sakes,” 

And so the arrangement was struck. 

They keep up their hero-villain act at night, but in the day they’re just Julie and Luke, roommates. 

Somehow along the way ‘roommates’ turned to ‘friends’. 

Maybe it started when Julie found out Luke’s background. How he and his friends had been on the streets for the longest time until they joined up with The Magician, the city’s crime boss, and began their life of crime. 

Maybe it started when Luke found out why Julie became a vigilante in the first place. To help those like her mother did, the original Miss Butterfly, until her untimely passing. 

They started to understand each other more, though Julie never fully approved of Luke’s less than legal activities. But Julie has to admit that out of her villain roster, Dark Riff may be the least rotten of them all. He’s a thief but at least he’s not like The Magician (hence his knack for making people ‘disappear’). 

And ‘friends’ eventually morphed into- well... whatever it is they have now. 

On off nights, Luke would be waiting by their balcony, ready to tend to Julie’s injuries if necessary. On one memorable occasion, he pressed a kiss to her bandaged knuckles, with a warning to be careful next time. Julie must have turned a few shades redder from that simple act alone... 

And there was another time when Reggie’s cover was about to be blown, the closest he had ever been to getting caught by the police, and Miss Butterfly had ‘accidentally’ left her knife behind, which helped him escape. 

Luke had returned the knife to her, grateful. Because if anything were to happen to his boys-

“I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She merely said, “And is it your turn to pick the movie or mine?” 

He smiled and chose Dirty Dancing. Her favorite. They end up snuggling into each other on the couch. 

Then It happened at a museum heist. Finally. After nearly half a year of them living together. When she spotted him on the roof, humming that song he’s been working on- music being his true passion, much like hers. 

And so she kissed him, the skyscrapers and night sky as their backdrop, the wailing security alarms as their soundtrack. 

How romantic. 

Another secret to keep. 

Julie knows it’s been tough on Luke, hiding this, hiding her, from Alex and Reggie- who had nearly walked in on their personas making out an hour earlier before Julie took action and swiped at Luke’s feet and initiating a well convincing fight. (They always pull their punches). 

Now they’re back in their apartment and Luke is tired.

"Look, Julie. I want to tell the guys. Really. But it's not Alex and Reggie that I'm worried about,"

"The Magician doesn't scare me," Julie assures. 

He bristles at the mention of his ‘boss’, "I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't the bubble to pop. And he for sure would pop it."

If Caleb found out that he’s with Julie, then he would for sure exploit it. Blackmail, threaten her loved ones, not to mention what would be waiting for Luke since he had elected to keep this vital information to himself. 

"Or maybe you could... leave the life of crime behind?” Julie throws out there. She bats her eyelashes at him, “Join me?"

"But being ‘bad’,” He mimes the air quotations, “is all I've ever known.” 

“You’re not bad,” Reaching for his face, Julie peels the domino mask off of him, “You’re...” 

Luke leans in, eyes fluttering closed, “I’m what?” 

“You...” Julie does the same, but as she nears, her face puckers into a sour expression and recoils, “You reek!” 

Luke pouts, sniffing his own leather garb, “I don’t smell that bad!” 

“We fought at a cannery! You smell like fish”

With a chuckle, he ignores this and wraps his arms around her. She squeals. 

“No, no, no- ew! Luke!” 

Luke takes it a step further and tickles her into submission, and so now that he’s hovering over her on the couch. 

“I guess I found out Miss Butterfly’s weakness then,” he smirks before he kisses her.

Julie’s hands weave into his hair, drawing him closer, and with a smirk of her own, still in the kiss, she tugs on the strands, making Luke gasp and pull away. She takes the opening and rolls him off of her. 

“And I know yours,” she retorts. 

Luke groans, “Not fair,”

“You started it!” She sticks her tongue out at him and points to the hallway, “Go take a shower!”

“And then Great British Bake-Off?” 

Julie smiles, “Yes.” 

“Sweet,”

They both take their turns getting cleaned up. Now, costumes off, back to being Julie and Luke again, they flip on the TV. 

“One day,” Luke says as they scroll through Netflix, “One day we’ll figure this out. And we won’t have to hide anymore.” 

“Yeah,” Julie agrees, “One day. But for now, for me, this is good.” 

“Me too,” 

credit to @lydias--stiles for their super hero/ super villain names. 

[okay-j-hannah]

Out Of Sight

Fantastic Beasts : Prompt

Theseus x Reader

Word Count: 1605

Warnings: Nothing but the shameless flirting of Theseus Scamander 😂

Request: “Could I possibly get a Theseus/reader fic using prompt 3? Preferably where he’s the one who is missing, maybe during a mission gone wrong and she’s talking to Newt? Fluff please. I dunno if my heart could take any angst. Thank you! 💙🌻💙” @the-glasses-are-my-disguise​

Prompt:

3. “He’s missing, not dead.”

A/N: You join Theseus and Newt on an undercover job, always the worrier when it came to Theseus’ safety as he tackled Auror investigations

The party was formal and overwhelming.

Dozens of couples in dresses and suits trailed lazily around the hall, drinks and nibbles being woven between them. The professional orchestra played a background tune, seemingly invisible as the people of power chatted.

(Y/N) stood, slightly uncomfortable in such a uniform of lace and silk and edged her gloved hand around Theseus’ arm. She was never one for these Auror missions, though being a devout partner she left her research desk and followed Theseus into the danger.

“How are you supposed to know who he is?”

Theseus raised a slender glass of champagne to his lips, muttering quietly, “He’ll be surrounded by the most powerful. He’ll be the one seemingly bored by the conversation but demanding their attention when he speaks.”

“I don’t like the look of this,” she whispered back, whipping her eyes about the grand hall, “There are too many people. It would be so easy to get lost.”

“Calm yourself, darling,” Theseus chuckled, “You’ll give away our position.”

(Y/N) immediately lowered her eyes, taking a deep breath. She must behave normally regardless of the panic she felt. Newt was not far behind, quietly observing and partaking of his own drink.

“These magical beast smugglers are not used to the skills of a dark wizard catcher,” Theseus stated rather proudly. “We’ll find them in the end.”

“Just because they’re not dark wizards doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.”

Theseus covered her hand along his arm, “You have nothing to fear, my dear. This is simply a favor for Newt – I would have brought reinforcements if I thought there was any real danger.”

She looked up to find his eyes gazing down at her lovingly. He gave a small smile and kissed her brow.

“I don’t get out of the office much. Forgive me if I’m a little on edge,” though she was smiling when she said it. She couldn’t help it when he held her close like that, protective under his gentle grasp.

He chuckled low in his throat, “You look simply ravishing in that dress.”

She shook her head ever so slightly, instantly flustered by his shameless flirting. “You’re on the job, Theseus – keep your pants on.”

“You’re no fun,” he muttered, moving his hand to her back, trailing light fingers up her spine, “Can I not adore you while enjoying my champagne?”

She shivered, tickled, “I’m going to need you to think with your upstairs brain; we’re working a case.” Though she knew what he was doing – it was always a tactic of his whenever she was anxious. He wished to calm her down, wished to see her flustered or annoyed rather than panicked and afraid.

And it worked every time – she smiled – the worrisome fretting was replaced with a mingling sense of playfulness. Much more manageable and less likely to give them away.

He grinned as realization was coming to her, “You clever girl.” And he scanned the audience again, drinking the last of his glass and shoving a hand in his pocket.

Newt crept behind (Y/N), slightly slouched and upset by the couples flirting. “I don’t suppose you’ve spotted anything?”

“No, Newton, I’ve been too busy admiring my love in her dress.” This time round, Theseus shamelessly flirt to rouse a shameful blush to Newt’s cheeks.

“Don’t tease,” (Y/N) nudged him.

“Or rather,” Theseus narrowed, thrusting his empty glass into Newt’s free hand, “There might be something there near the stairs.”

(Y/N) craned her neck to see, clearly observing a group of enthusiastic conversationalists. The man within its center had a dull expression on his face, picking at his nails and seeming only mildly interested in what was being said.

“I’ll go have a look,” Theseus said, turning to (Y/N), “Be careful, and don’t let Newt sway you to the dance floor. There’s a reason he sticks to his mating dances.”

(Y/N) frowned, “You’re going alone?”

In response, Theseus took her hand and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, “I’ll be back before you know it.” And he pulled away, giving her a comforting smile.

He skillfully weaved himself through the crowd, being sure to place a dashing debonair smile on his face. (Y/N) watched him anxiously, the nerves returning with him out of her presence. Newt noticed, placing his empty champagne glasses on a footman’s tray.

“He’ll be all right. He’s Theseus.”

“That’s the problem,” (Y/N) muttered, struggling to keep her eyes on him in the swarm of people. “He is Theseus and Theseus does what he wants without regard to his own personal safety.”

“You and I definitely live with different Theseus’.”

(Y/N) laughed, hollow, “You lived with the schoolboy, I live with the Auror.”

“Fair enough,” Newt muttered, hiding his fidgeting hands in his coat pockets, “Though, I still don’t believe you have anything to worry about.”

It was enough good faith that she calmed somewhat. Newt and she found themselves growing bored with waiting around and spying Theseus being diplomatic with the suspected smugglers. They trailed the outside of the hall, admiring the sparing artwork and grabbing little sandwiches and toothpicked cheeses when they could. They found themselves at the side bar, grabbing a sip of mild fire whiskey and then stirring olives in old cocktails.

“Look at me scolding Theseus and then drinking on the job.”

Newt gave her a rare smile, “I knew Theseus could handle the task himself, but I think he enjoys seeing you out in public.”

She gave him a raised brow, “Oh?”

“I do believe he likes showing you off.”

That made her smirk, “Sounds like my Theseus.” She knew he would never say such things to her face for fear of making her bashful and regret going out. He always knew when to draw the line in his skillful flirtations.

“Speaking of Theseus,” Newt stated, noticing the crowds beginning to thin as people returned home for the night. “I’ve lost sight of him.”

(Y/N) whipped her head around, a sudden lead weight in her stomach. She looked to where she saw him last and saw nothing. This led her eyes to flicker around the rest of the hall, more frantic in her search. Yet she still could not see him.

She moved away from the bar, moving slowly but her eyes whirring about the space. The longer she looked the faster her breath seemed to leave her. It was harder to focus, her mind only jumping to the worst conclusions as to why she couldn’t see him anymore. All notions that he’d be fine were out the window.

There were goosebumps on her arms as she moved farther into the thinning crowds. She was beginning to frantically search, bumping into people and asking to see peoples faces. She stumbled as she went undeterred by the stares of offense.

Newt tried to catch her while spying about. He did not feel the same sense of panic, perhaps because he had known Theseus longer. When he managed to grab her arm, he said, “There’s no need to go shouting about.”

She hadn’t even realized she’d started saying Theseus’ name aloud, “I don’t see him. I don’t know where he is.” There was a burning on the backs of her eyes, “These smugglers were dangerous, yes?”

Newt was taken aback by the look on her face, “Only dangerous to the magical beasts they pawn – I don’t think they’d be so ruthless to wizards.”

She took another shaky breath, “I still don’t see him. Where would he go? Why wouldn’t he tell us? What if something happened to him?”

“(Y/N), he’s missing, not dead.” Newt placed his hands on her shoulders, “You need to calm yourself. No good is going to come from your panic. “

He was right. She finally took a deep breath and nodded, “I just get so worried about him. He’s always out here risking his neck and I couldn’t stand not seeing him ever again. Sometimes when he leaves out the door I wonder if he’ll come home – and it terrifies me.”

“I wish I didn’t make you feel that way.” His voice was gentle and sweet. And when she turned to face him, he felt his own throat bob slightly, “Darling, you worry too much.”

“Theseus,” she whispered, falling directly into his arms, “You scared me half to death.”

He wrapped himself around her, rubbing her chilled back, “I told you I’d be back. I always come back.”

“I couldn’t see you – you disappeared.” That burning pricking her eyes turned them glassy as she hugged him close. “I assumed the worst.”

Theseus sighed, pulling back and cupping her face, “You may be a clever girl, but you go positively rampant as soon as I’m out of your eyeline. Do you really doubt my capabilities as an Auror?”

She pouted, lowering her eyes, “No, of course not. It’s those you fight that I don’t trust. One of these days they’ll pull a fast one on you.”

He gave her a look of longing before kissing her forehead, “I’m all right and you don’t need to worry – that’s what matters.” His fingers were warm and loving where they traced her arms, pulling her into another hug.

“I couldn’t possibly let anything happen to myself because who would be there to calm you?”

(Y/N) sighed, comfort flowing through her.

In return, Theseus trailed a hand up her back to hold her head against his chest, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“I’m sorry I panicked.”

Newt grumbled, “I’m sorry, but what about the smugglers?”

Theseus’ chest rumbled with laughter; it bounced against (Y/N)’s cheek, “I see you didn’t share the same worry, Newton.”

~~~

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[just-random-imagines]

Like Music?

IMAGINE: You’re fairly new to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and thanks to past circumstances, you haven’t experienced much as other teenagers have. A certain speedster takes it in his own hands to solve your problem. WORD COUNT: 1,199 WARNINGS: N/A

The music washes over you as you start to dance. The crowd isn't wild as usual, but there's enough spark to start a wildfire. The lead vocalist leans into the microphone, belting out the next lyrics.

A singer in a smokey room. The smell of wine and cheap perfume. For a smile they can share the night, it goes on and on and on and on.

Cheering them on like the rest of the crowd, you continue to sway to the beat until someone grabs your waist.

"Having fun yet?" The owner of the arms asks you, their warm breath hitting your ear.

"Yeah, thanks for getting me out of that house," you reply, grabbing the hands.

Their palms are relatively soft, unlike the fingers which are rough at the tips.

"No problem Y/N."

You're turned around. Chocolate brown eyes stare down at you, full of warmth and pride.

"I knew you'd like it here."

A Few Hours Earlier

"So how are you able to control it?" You ask Hank as he leads you to the Blackbird.

"Awhile back, I designed a serum that briefly treats my genes. When it does that, it allows me to revert to my 'normal' form."

"That's amazing!" You exclaim.

Hank shrugs as if to say 'no big deal' before showing you a half-built plane frame.

"So, what do you need help with?" He points out to various spots and starts to explain the process.

"The jets need to be bolted; the previous ones weren't strong enough."

"The mainframe sitting on the processor over there needs to be re-tuned."

"See that wing? There's a certain section that must be welded up."

Already grabbing a few tools for the job, you're interrupted by a small 'whoosh'.

"Hey McCoy, what'cha doing?" You don't turn around, being too busy in gathering your needed equipment.

"Just showing our new engineer trainee the ropes."

After getting everything strapped to your vest, you turn around and face Hank, who stands by himself. "Wasn't someone just talking to you?"

Another 'whoosh' sounds this time right beside you. You quickly look to your right where a silver-haired man stands, sporting odd gear. Goggles sit on his forehead while clipped earbuds hang around his neck, connected to a SONY Walkman strapped to his belt.

"Yeah, that's me. You look very nice, why haven't we me before? I'm Peter Maximoff but guys around here call me Quicksilver. What's your name?"

He speaks so quickly; you have to ask him to repeat it. When you can properly hear him, you offer a hand.

"Nice to meet you... Quicksilver? I'll have to stick with Peter. I'm Y/N."

Peter smiles at the way you respond to him shyly but doesn't bring it up. "You new here? Never seen you around."

You explain how Charles stumbled upon you about a month ago and offered you a place at the school. You moved in only two weeks back. Hank had recently found about your knack with mechanical devices and technical skills.

Peter watches you the whole time you speak, listening carefully to everything you say. Once you're finished, he asks a random question.

"Have you ever gone to a concert Y/N?"

"No. Never had the time."

He scrunches his brown eyebrows in confusion before shaking his head. "You have really never gone to a concert before?" He looks you up and down, smirking broadly once he does.

"That won't do."

In seconds, you feel all the excess weight from the power tools gone. They're quick to reappear in a small pile at Hank's feet. Peter, out of nowhere, stands by your side.

"Sorry Hank," he starts, already slipping on his goggles. "Your little class with Y/N will have to be postponed. I am going to take her to have the time of her life."

Scrunching your nose up in confusion, you look at him. "Really?"

"Yes." He replies. His hand reaches for the back of your head as you speak.

"And how are you-"

Everything rushes past as Peter grabs your head and starts running. Next thing you know, you're standing in your dormitory.

"-Gonna do that?"

Peter knowingly grabs a small trashcan from the corner of the room and hands it to you. Quickly spitting up the little breakfast you had, you glare daggers at the speedster.

"Give me a bit of a warning next time."

"Oh, I will," he responds playfully. One second he's gone, but quickly returns the next with a small pile of clothes in his arms.

"Put this on," Peter says before tossing them at your face. Catching them with ease, you eye them curiously.

"What's wrong with what I have on now?"

"It's nice but you might want to be a bit more comfortable where we're going."

Agreeing to his terms, the fellow mutant waits patiently as you change, leaving the room while you do like a gentleman. Once you've finished, you call him back in.

"You have nice taste, Peter." You compliment, looking over your clothes in the mirror.

"Nah, you just make it look good."

Fixing your shirt, you dare to ask Peter where you were going in order to hide your embarrassment.

"Have you ever heard of Journey?"

"The band?" You question. "A little. I don't listen to music so their songs are a mystery to me."

"I am trying to develop an interest in you Y/N. Are you trying to turn me off or something?"

This boy was definitely not going to make things easy for you. Feeling your cheeks reddening, you turn to Peter.

"I'm sorry. I don't usually have time to listen to music."

"Well, we're going to change that." He grabs your head once more before rushing off.

Several hundred miles later, the two of you stand on a grassy lawn, surrounded by a scattered amount of fellow teenagers and middle-aged adults, all in ripped clothing. A large stage is settled nearby where a crew sets up sound equipment.

"And now we wait."

-

And so, you did. As the band readied themselves for a performance, you and Peter got to know each other better. He had a twin sister named Wanda and along with his mother, they lived in a house full of stolen goods. He then adds how he once had broken into the pentagon and freed the man who supposedly killed JFK.

With every passing minute you talked, you feel more and more intrigued by him. It was nice, having a guy your own age to hang out with who actually let loose.

Then the lights dimmed down as the music started to pour out of the large speakers. It hit you like a tidal wave and you immediately fell in love with it. You started dancing and laughing, something you rarely did anymore.

As they started to play another song, you allow Peter to hold you from behind.

"This is nice," you tell him, swaying from side to side. "I never thought myself to be a rock kind of person."

You look up to Peter who gazes down at you with affection.

"We never think ourselves to be a lot of things but we're still here."

Things were really looking good now.

[beinmybonnet]

hmmm ok, joe/nicky "colour"

(classic seeing colour soulmates au BECAUSE ALL THE TROPES FEEL NEW WHEN YOU’VE GOT IMMORTALS)

- you see the world in black and white until the day you touch your soulmate. when they die, you lose the colour they brought to your life - 

*

“Oh, that’s beautiful.”

Nile comes up on Joe’s right shoulder, mug of tea cupped between her palms.

“Thank you.” He shuffles over so she can sit beside him on the bench, moving aside his paints. She’s studying his work intently.

“The shades here are perfect,” she tells him, eyes darting between the painting and the view before them, “it’s like the shadows are lifting off the canvas. What colours have you used?”

Joe’s smile is wide, and he flips his paintbrush to gesture with the end. “Here, whites and greys for the houses at the bottom of the hill. Here,” he points the handle higher, “yellows with pink, and then some red here, just as the sun rose.”

“So, that would be orange right here? Pale though?” she points at the right splash of colour and Joe turns, brow lifting in surprise. “Art History with a focus on colour differentials,” she says proudly. “My professor said I had the best monochromatic eye he’d ever seen.”

Joe promptly slides the paints across the bench and picks his spare canvas up off the grass. “Join me?”

“Really?” Nile grins, bright and eager as he hands her a brush. She hovers over the paints for a moment, chewing her lip between her teeth. Her eyes rove determinedly over the unlabelled paints and the sky, before she plucks up a purple pot. Joe has to resist the urge to wrap his arm round her shoulders.

Back when Joe had first leaned to draw, colour had meant nothing to him. He’d had chalks and charcoals as a child and had lost hours to sweeping strokes across paving stones. He’d learned to differentiate between subtle shadows and muted tones, blending new greys between his fingertips to smudge over his clothing.

Black, white and the thousand shades between them were comfortable and sure. Colour was just, unnecessary. As he grew, he was gifted graphite and dark inks and a roll of rough parchment was always tucked against his hip. He could recreate everything his eye could see and his mind could form with the two fundamentals in his hands. All his most treasured early memories remain this way; his mother’s shining ebony hair, the smoky shade of her skin. The bright white of his father’s teeth as he spun her around in front of their home.

But there’s still no denying that colour changed everything. Colour that had come into his world with all the subtlety of the man at its source. Suddenly his life had burst into bold tints and fierce hues; endless possibilities for him to explore with paints and oils and pastels. Nine hundred years to experiment with the vibrancy of the world around him.

He and Nile reach for the blue together and smile. 

*

Nicky’s got his eye pressed tight to his scope when everything fades.

He’s dialling left, settling his weight into his hips and then a curtain of heavy grey drops across his view. He rears back rubbing at his eyes, trying to force the colours back.

“Shit… just- Book, hold up!” Andy’s voice crackles out of the earpiece Nicky’s placed on the rooftop beside him. He scrambles to jam it back in.

“Andy-”

“Take the shot Nicky.” There’s shouting coming from below and Andy is swearing vehemently. “I’ve got him, just take the shot!”

He lurches back into position trying to clear his mind. It’s all wrong though, the shadows too dark and his depth perception is ruined -he’ll have to start all over. The dilution of his vision is making his heart thump erratically, and he has to count breaths in his head to keep himself still enough to reline up the shot.

Seconds later, the target steps out of the blackness and Nicky fires. The bullet cracks off the window frame, striking home at a cruel angle. He swears under his breath; it wasn’t clean, but he doesn’t care – the job’s done. He just needs to find Joe.

He takes the stairs at a speed that leaves his knees numb. At the extraction point, the van is already moving away as the door slides open. Nicky hurls his gear in and leaps after it. He gets the briefest glimpse of eyes too dark, and thick pewter stains across a torso before the door is slammed shut and he’s hauling Joe into his arms. They collide with a thump and Nicky quickly tucks his face against the grey skin of Joe’s neck with his eyes clenched shut. A hand burrows under the edge of his tactical gear until he feels the warmth at the small of his back.

Nicky pulls back to open his eyes and relief has him sagging further into the arms around him. Warm tawny skin shines against the dark khaki of Joe’s vest. He drags his mouth up the rich line of his throat, reluctant to break contact.

“Sorry.” Joe’s expression is chagrined when he lifts his head. “Got pinned down.”

There’s a smear of blood at the corner of Joe’s mouth, the newly crimson stain brash and mocking. Nicky rubs at it with a gloved thumb until the skin is clean and then presses his mouth gratefully to his favourite colour.

*

“A lilac ribbon in her hair. First colour I ever saw.”

The slight waver in his voice makes Nile wonder if she’s over-stepped again, if she’s put her foot in some unknown no-go zone and she opens her mouth to apologise. But Booker’s smiling, and that in itself is rare enough that Nile waits.

“It happened in a crowd. Must have been a hundred people in the square, easily…” his smile is widening. “God, it would have been so easy to have missed her. Soldiers were separating people, everyone was running and pushing and we just… brushed hands.”

Booker lifts his hand from his lap and turns it over slowly. “The back of her hand touched mine as she ran past. That was all.” He touches that spot, a glance of his finger. “I looked back, and her ribbon was lilac. But it was so busy, I lost sight of her in the rush.”

“But you found her again?” Nile has her head propped on her hands, trying not to sound too eager. Booker laughs gruffly.

“She found me. Came back for me.” He’s gripping his own hand tightly now, nails biting at the skin. “Lilac ribbon, hair like honey. Everything else came after that.”

“She sounds lovely.”

Booker looks up at her properly, and Nile’s acutely aware that whilst now they see the world in the same shades, it wasn’t always that way.

His voice is soft. “She was.”

*

Joe barely has time to shout before his world is plunged back into negatives, colour leaching from his vision. He’s scrambling, sliding in the pool of viscous grey he knows is blood as it spreads around Nicky’s skull.

He moves to cup Nicky’s face and can’t bear it. The sharp edge of his cheekbone throws dark shadows over his too pale face. Flecks and streaks of black over his skin; blood or dust or ash, Joe can’t tell anymore and the panic is rising in his throat. He can’t look at Nicky’s colourless eyes – he can’t- he’ll carry the sight with him too long.

He tears his head away, his own eyes clenched shut – but before he has time to pray, to plead, Nicky is gasping beneath him. The breath Joe releases is sticky and harsh, and he’s curling forward in his relief. Their hands collide quickly against each other’s forearms in an instinctive, accustomed clasp, and colours start seeping back immediately. The first to return are the shades of blue; bright aegean tones bursting in Nicky’s wide eyes, chased into existence by familiar notes of green. The weight lifts off Joe’s chest and for a moment he just breathes, air that tastes sweet and smooth as his other senses adjust to the disruption.

Then Nicky’s rolling. “Let’s go, Andy.”

*

They’re stood close enough to see the tremble in Andy’s arm as she reaches for Quynh’s face for the first time in over four hundred years.

Joe is frozen at his side, and Nicky’s breath is jammed somewhere in the base of his throat. He can’t believe this is actually happening.

Andy’s hand falters just shy of Quynh’s cheek with a ragged sound, fingers hovering. She opens her mouth to speak but Quynh reaches up and clamps the hand desperately to her face with her own. They shudder so violently Nicky wonders for a moment if the ground has physically quaked.

He knows the sensation well; that fierce swoop in the stomach. Like he’s stepped into free fall as the world saturates around him at Joe’s first touch. When they can reach each other quickly after a death, colour comes back in slow, precious increments; the shining browns of Joe’s eyes, or the dusky pink that rises in the shell of his ear. The longest they’ve gone after a death was four days. Four days in an east Indian jungle trapped in wet, translucent tones of black and white, the frustration building until he’d screamed at the sky. When he’d finally gotten his hands on Joe, grasping desperately at his bared shoulders, colour returning was an immediate detonation that had left his whole body throbbing for hours.

Nicky can’t even begin to imagine what Andy and Quynh feel in this moment.

They go down as one, limbs folding together as they collapse into the dirt. Clutching at each other as their worlds transform. Quynh has Andy’s face trapped between her own palms now and is sobbing, laughing, trying to pull her closer. Andy’s tears are silent, but steady. Her eyes flitting over Quynh’s face in awe while she runs trembling fingertips over rosy cheeks she can see.

Joe is squeezing his hand so tightly his fingers have gone numb, but the rush of joy in Nicky’s chest is golden and fierce. To stop himself moving forwards to pull Quynh into his own arms, he steps behind Joe and tugs him back, arms looping firmly around his middle.

“See? We are meant to find each other,” he whispers. Joe chuckles wetly against him.

On the ground, Quynh is smiling through her tears. “You’re beautiful Andromache,”

Andy hums hoarsely and runs her hands over Quynh’s arms, coming up to cradle her collar through the thick fabric of her coat. Her fingers rub at the material and Nicky knows the scarlet shade must be iridescent to her eyes. Andy lifts a thumb to Quynh’s lower lip.

“Red always was your colour.”

                                                        

*

adriana i’m so sorry this took so long. i physically couldn’t stop it getting longer and longer and then i got really stuck and it was a whole mess. 

[tennessoui]

omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

[thran-duils]

Nowhere to Run (P.1)

Title: Nowhere to Run (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 1,847 Warnings: Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse

Author’s Notes: I don’t intend for this to be a super long series. This chapter is setting up the non-con to come. Read at your own risk, 18+ as always. Also, the picture under the cut is the mood in the world that I am seeing; kind of steam punk? AND, song inspo.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You were being led through the long halls of the capitol building, a collar around your neck. The guards could give you a small shock whenever they so pleased if you tried to run or do anything unsavory.

They had found you stealing fruits off one of the carts in the market. Normally, you would have had your hands whipped and spent a night in jail. But this cart that you had so stupidly failed to see had the symbol of the capitol on it. It had been dark, early morning, and you had failed to see it as you snuck around. The envoy had apparently come to the market as the vendors were arriving to fetch the best of the crops for the council members. Stealing from the capitol meant trial there and you were drug from your mountainous outskirt town to the city with others to face the highest court for your crime.

You were brought to a room and shoved inside; the door closed behind you. A man was sitting behind a desk, waiting patiently.

“Sit,” he invited, gesturing at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “My name is Tsu. I’ll be your counselor for the day if you decide to utilize my offer.”

Cautiously, you did what he asked, sinking into the chair. He picked up a device — you had only ever seen guards that patrolled through your town with them — and clicked it on. A picture came to life, and you watched with awe as he was able to control it with his movements of his hand in the air.

“I have your basic information that they collected upon your arrest. Name, date of birth, crime. But I need to know what it is you do...”

“‘Do’?”

“Your profession.”

“I don’t have a profession. I’m going to trial.”

“Everyone has a profession.”

You stayed silent, not wanting to give this capitol worker any more information than he already had on you. Your town did well enough staying out of their way and business, keeping to yourselves besides when they demanded crops. Giving away too much about yourself seemed unwise.

Tsu eyed you and asked suspiciously, “Was it a, let’s say, less prestigious profession that you are more inclined to not disclose?”

You saw he was eyeing your arms and then neck causing you to you ask, “What do you mean?”

“Do you know women here in the city — and many other places in the kingdom for that matter — are tattooed?”

“I’ve seen people passing through with them yes.”

“Tattoos are normal, expected even. Your body is a canvas. And having the freedom to do with your skin as you please is a status symbol.” You stared at him dumbly, not picking up what he was trying to get at. He sighed, lowering the technological device and leveled with you, “Ladies of the night do not have tattoos. They’re not free and their skin is kept clear to show that. And to me, you look like ink has never touched your skin. Am I correct?”

Heat came to your cheeks, and you sputtered offended, “I’m not a lady of the night! I worked for the local librarian if you need to know! It just didn’t pay well, and I was hungry!”

So much for not giving him information. But he had provoked you. You were always told you had a temper.

“So, you’re saying yes your skin is clear?”

“Yes it is but I’m not a trollop!”

“It matters not. It will invite unwanted attention from people here in the city. And trust me, the higher up they are in status, the bolder they will be about assuming you are... open.”

Exasperated, you asked, “What does this have to do with my trial?”

Tsu shrugged, “With my help, you may not have to go to trial. You’ll just be sentenced to work in the capitol building. Here. I’m just trying to explain to you briefly how some things work. And I was merely asking what you did so I could better place you. If you were working nights, then, there is a spot for you, despite your immediate disdain for the profession. But, if that’s not the case, then I can find you something else here.”

“For how long?” you asked upset.

Tsu shrugged and said, “The typical time for a crime in your bracket is a year.” Your stomach dropped. An entire year spent here? Wearing a collar? Away from your home. “If you are outstanding — and someone happens to notice, which is rare — you could have a couple months shaved off. The other way, if you are unsuitable or enrage someone, they could seek to extend your sentence.”

“So, I am to be at the mercy of these wealthy, spoiled assholes’ whims?” You demanded before you could stop yourself.

That drew the briefest of smirks out of hum before he cleared his throat and said, “As assuming as it is for me to hear you share that behind closed doors with me, because it is true, I would watch your tongue very closely. That’s something that would most certainly get your sentence extended.”

“Noted,” you muttered, sinking back into your seat.

Tsu turned the tablet towards you and said, “If you would prefer to do what I am offering instead of facing trial and time in a cell, sign here stating you understand the conditions.”

You stared at the tablet, weighing your options. This way, you knew exactly what you were getting into and having knowledge and a plan seemed a comfort than going in blind. Reaching forward, you held out your hand.

“Use your finger. There’s no pen.”

Tracing your name, you watched it appear in gold before solidifying in black in the document.

“Perfect. Let’s get you changed into a servant’s gown. And get that collar off.” The collar was going to come off? He must have seen the shock on your face. “You’ll be given an ankle bracelet. It will look delicate, beautiful even, but trust me, it won’t break. And they’ll get an alert if there’s a lot of pressure aka you trying to do so. And that can also get you added time.”

<><><>

It only took half a day for you to find yourself in more trouble. You had been following Tsu as he gave you a tour around the castle and you had stopped as the two of you crossed a bridge. You had been transfixed by the sight of the city, your hands coming to rest on the balcony as you took it in.

You felt a hand at your ass before it cupped, and breath was hot on your ear.

“My, my, I don’t think I’ve seen you before, lovely,” the man rasped.

“Don’t touch me, you piece of shit!” you exclaimed, whipping around and shoving him. He stumbled back away from you, barely catching his balance having been so caught off guard by your reaction. You doubted the people here ever received pushback from servants. He looked furious.

“What did she just say?” the man demanded, coming for you but someone stepped in his way.

This other man was blonde, short haired. “There’s no need to maim the girl here in public, is there?”

The first man looked ready to explode but he grated, “Did you hear what she said to me, Master Barton? She—"

“I have ears and they’re perfect, so yes I did hear what she said,” Barton replied coolly.

Tsu had come back to your side — how far had he gotten, talking to himself, before he realized you were not behind him? He pulled you a few paces away.

“What’s going on, sir?”

Before Barton could say anything, the man spat, “That little wench shoved me and swore at me!”

Tsu inhaled deeply before hissing in your ear, “Did you hear nothing of what I spoke?” You opened your mouth to protest but he continued on in a hushed whisper, “This whole thing can possibly be fixed if you just go apologize. And if you do this I’m going to have to grab the back of your neck without any resistance from you.”

“Gods,” you breathed.

“I’m serious.”

You gave the slightest of nods before Tsu’s hand was tight around the back of your neck and he walked you past Barton to the man. He was staring at you ferociously, like he wanted to tear you apart.

“She’s just arrived today but that doesn’t excuse her actions. She would like to beg your forgiveness,” Tsu told him, and his fingers flexed, signaling for you to start.

You had dealt with bullies before. You could do this.

Trying to keep the disdain out of your tone, you said, “I’m sorry for being enraged and acting impulsively. It was uncouth of me. I’m new and I am trying to learn how to act respectively with your customs. I beg your forgiveness.” You quickly added, “Sir.”

The man straightened out his shirt before sneering, “These little whores keep getting more brazen. Keep them in line!”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed off.

Tsu let go of your neck and he breathed easier that it had not escalated, and the man had begrudgingly accepted your apology. You caught Barton watching and he winked at you before turning on his heel and leaving as well.

<><><>

Tony was watching the screen of the security footage with arousal swimming in his eyes, his fingers at his lips at the woman. He was insatiable at times with his lust — the whorehouse a place he frequently relished in. He turned his attention to Steve.

Steve was cold at first, displeased by the mountain girl’s behavior towards one of the council members. But upon seeing her come back and apologize, a small smirk broke out.

“Thought you might find that interesting,” Clint commented, leaning against the wall. “Seems there’s a little hellion now in our midst.”

Tony paused the recording on a close up of her face and Steve leaned forward. He studied her for a few moments before telling the guards.

“Send her our way,” he ordered. “We’ve needed a new chambermaid. And I haven’t had to break a new one in in a while.”

“Cause she definitely didn’t mean a word of that apology. Look at that fire in her eyes,” Tony chuckled, strolling closer to the screen, looking at her face on the paused screen. Quietly to himself more than anything, his fingers tapping his lips, he said, “No... no you didn’t, did you, little vixen?” He was drinking the sight of her in, and he adjusted his pants, already titillating himself at the thoughts playing in his mind. Turning away from the screen on one foot, he went back for his goblet, taking a drink. He smacked his lips and vowed, “She’ll mean it when we ask for an apology. Of that I am certain.”

“Whatever she’s been assigned, reassign her to our villa community,” Steve added. “She’ll have plenty work there to learn her manners.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21​ @undecidedsworld​ @holl2712​ @agustdowney​

[libraford]

We interrupt the feral celebration of ousting an oligarch to bring you a story about Yeehaw and his Branch of Mystery.

  It has been a while since we last had some co-worker drama, but man- has it been a weird summer. I mean... we all had a weird summer in 2020, but I don't think I was really expecting this particular... flavor of weird?

 This is a story about Yeehaw, but it starts off with a story about Aggie.

 Aggie was someone we were excited to hire and part of our excitement was that it's rare to find someone with prior floral experience and we'd concluded at this point that it does no one any good to be picky about new hires in the middle of a pandemic. So finding someone who knew the difference between a carnation and a rose was a big deal for us.

 I say that in jest, but saying that we do 'on-the-job training' means that we've had to explain that yes- the flower in my hand that looks like a carnation is a carnation and not some other flower that looks like carnation but is not a carnation. Floristry is a very straightforward practice and for the most part a rose is a rose and a daisy is a daisy and if someone asks for those things, you give it to them.

 The hard part is, as always, making them look good together.

 Which is why we were pleased with Aggie- who previously did weddings for her friends and seemed to have a basic understanding of how to do things with her hands. We were happy to have her aboard.

 ... until you gave her criticism.

 She made her vases embarrassingly short, and if you tried to tell her how to fix it, she'd snap back with "I'm not DONE yet."

 She was done until you said something.

 If you gave her an order for two dozen white roses, she would take it upon herself to mix white and yellow roses together 'because it looks better.'

 It did not.

 Hashtag: #selftaught

 When a client asks for all white roses, there is likely a reason they asked for all white. Given that 90% of our work is funerals, it stands to reason that they are asking for all white because that is a traditional color for mourning. Working with a client means doing exactly what they asked for. Doing a wedding for your friends may get you high praise from people who trust you to work in the same aesthetic as them, but in a shop setting you are being paid to follow things to the letter. Doing so shows that you can follow directions, and they may come back next time.

 You don't know customer entitlement until you've been torn another asshole for leaving out a single rose.

 This seemed to never occur to her, and so criticism was a painful realization that perhaps she wasn't perfect at an art that was exceptionally susceptible to criticism. There were plenty of opportunities to make something in her own aesthetic, it wasn't like she was being stifled. There was a considerable amount of downtime where she filled the front cooler with her own creations- enigmatically giving each of them their own names like "Autumn Walk" or "First Snowfall." (This is not something that we do, on the whole.)

 Not very many of those sold.

 But I think what bugged me the most is that she only ever designed. She didn't take out the trash, she didn't answer phones, she never helped customers. She just... did flowers. Nothing else.

 Oh... and the chatter.

 "Do you travel? Oh, you simply MUST go to Bali sometime! You've never been to Asia? Well, there's nothing like achieving inner peace at a Buddhist temple on a mountaintop in Nepal. They have temples here in Ohio, but it's nothing like the real thing! You say you've never even been off the continent? Well, what are you waiting for? You only live once, you know!"

 Ma'am... we're in the middle of a pandemic. Ma'am... I only get paid so much...

 While trying to relate, I talked about my summer in Montana and she gave me the BIGGEST stank-face. "Montana? Ew, WHY?"

 Look, lady- I lived on a mountaintop next to an active, world-destroying volcano system. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

 But thankfully, she only worked on weekends. See, this was her fun job. The job she does to stay social during a pandemic and flex her creative muscles while she makes money at her much more lucrative,but boring,HR job. So I only had to see her twice a month when I was manager on duty.

 Then she got fired from her weekday job and went full-time at the flower shop. Poor thing wasn't used to waking up at 7am every day. She was full of suggestions.

 "I think it would be easier for me if we only opened at like... 11am."

"Don't you think we should be taking proper photos of our work? All we would need is a nice camera and a soft lighting setup. Couldn't be much more than $1000."

"Oh I know! We should be doing inventory on tablets instead of writing things down!"

 Okay, you go buy those things then. It took her about a week of making those suggestions to realize that she wasn't real clear on how things worked around here and stopped. She became quiet, less enthusiastic about her 'fun' job now that she wasn't immediately the star of the show.

 Enter Yeehaw.

 We were excited about Yeehaw, too. He didn't just have experience with flowers- he had experience with a flower shop. He gave a good interview, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and was very passionate about flowers. He was definitely an entire hippie, but about 1/3 of all plant people are. Most importantly, we still had like three spots to fill left from our pre-Covid staff.

 Hired.

 There was an overlap of about a week where Aggie and Yeehaw worked at the same time. His work was... immaculate. Just... astonishingly beautiful work. You didn't even have to show him how to make anything. He just... knew.

 Well, Aggie didn't  like that much- we had only nice things to say about this new guy but all she ever got was criticism. And if we complimented him on something he made, he would give a little 'namaste' bow. And I could see her fuming with rage each time he did this.

 One day, she rushed into the back to take a phone call and any time someone went back there for a vase she would lower her voice as if keeping a deep secret. Twenty minutes later, she called Grandpa into the back as well to discuss something. Ten minutes later, Aggie left the building with her Live, Laugh, Love bag, looking pissed.

 "Where did Aggie go," I asked Grandpa.

 "She got a new job," she said. "Doing HR somewhere."

 "She didn't even say good-bye," Blue said, appearing unsurprised.

 And so we went on with out lives without really putting much further thought into Aggie, apart from the occasional 'you simply MUST visit Bali' line thrown in for bougie emphasis.

 Which brings us to the next part of the story, and that is Yeehaw.

 There are some details to know about Yeehaw that are kind of difficult to fit into a story neatly. Here is a brief list that may come in handy to know later.

-He lives with his mother.

-He drives a Tesla.

-He can afford the Tesla because he was in a terrible wreck that had him hospitalized, and a lawsuit was won.

-Because of this, he has two screws in his head at the temples.

-Unrelated, he has hair that goes all the way down to his back.

- And...

 "Grandpa, we need to tell you something," Blue said. "In private."

 Blue and Kali pulled Grandpa aside while Yeehaw slowly put together a funeral order. "Grandpa, there's no polite way to put this: Yeehaw is drunk as fuck."

 "He smells like whiskey," Kali said.

 "He's stumbling everywhere."

 "And he won't stop... burping."

 Grandpa paused. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, and she reached for a manila folder. "Yeehaw has something called... what's it called..." She leafed through the file and produced a paper, reading from it. "Auto-brewery Syndrome. His body actually produces alcohol anytime he eats bread or sugar. If he's drunk, it's because he can't help it."

 We each had a chance to go over the doctor's note, verifying that yes- that sure does look official. Everyone had questions, but it did answer the one I had about why he was sitting in the break room literally drinking peanut butter from the jar.

 So that was incredibly interesting and we no longer asked about the burping or why he was so slow.  

 However, the fact that he was so slow was extremely frustrating. Our average number of orders runs approximately 100 per-day. This can be eased somewhat when we have a full-staff with five designers- an average of 20 designs per person in an 8-hour day, 3 per hour.

 But it's a fine line some days, and if one person cannot keep up it turns into a struggle for all of us.  

 We did our best to accommodate. We gave him all the day-ahead orders so that we wouldn't be behind and he'd have all the time he'd need to make his gorgeous pieces.

 We were willing to make it work.

 A number of factors came into play one day, but most notably: Yeehaw's Tesla wouldn't start and he had to take the bus. So he was late.

 I think I saw him make one entire item in the two hours that we were in the same room. He went to lunch around 12:30, I took mine around 1:00. I saw him stumble back in from lunch, looking... out of it. Just... absolutely incomprehensible- mumbling, barely upright, his hair out of the bun, quite possibly sleepwalking- who knows?

 I saw him for that brief Sasquatch moment... and that was the last that I saw him that day. It was around 4:00 that  Grandpa asked the question:

 "Where's Yeehaw?"

 And no one had an answer. We all had places that we thought we'd seen him: cleaning the cooler, in the break room, heading to the bathroom... but no one had really... seen him since he stumbled back in around 1:30.

 We checked all these places.

 None of them.

 The person who actually managed to find him was Sarge, who noticed his feet sticking out from behind the bushes behind the building.

 "Huh," he said, presumably. He gave the feet a light kick and Yeehaw slowly sat back up. "Hey dude. You... okay, there? They're lookin' for you inside."

 Yeehaw mumbled something to Sarge and got to his feet, stumbling back into the shop without further interaction. He appeared into the workspace, holding a branch in front of his face for mysterious reasons. There were still twigs entangled in his long hair.

 "Where were you at," Grandpa asked, concerned.

 "Oh, I was in the bathroom," he lied from behind the branch of mystery. "I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if I go home?"

 Bewildered, Grandpa gave him permission to leave. It was soon after he left that Scout found his phone in the empty sink. "Who's trying to wash their phone," he asked in the loud manner that is characteristic of old white men. It rang while in his hand and one of our designers snatched it from him. It was his mother.

 "Hello," said the designer. "Yeehaw went home early, but he left his phone behind. Can you bring it home to him?" Mom agreed, she was just over at Trader Joe's anyhow.

 We thought, of course, that we were doing something smart and nice. Yeehaw's mom looks just about what you would expect the mother of a 30-year-old hippie that drives a Tesla to look. Grandpa, in a polite way, explained that he'd fallen asleep in a bush. To which Mom seemed neither surprised nor concerned about his behavior.

 "Okay. I'll be at Hallmark."

 Somewhere between the bus stop and Bexley, Yeehaw must have realized that his phone was not with him and so he came back looking for it. Despite his mother being literally in the same strip mall as we were, he seemed irritated that we'd taken the initiative to make sure his phone got to him.

 "Well, I bet if you just went down to Hallmark she'd give you your phone and probably give you a ride home."

 He mumbled something and then left.

 This seems like a decent place to pause, because him leaving the second time in the day should be the end of the story. However... at 5:00 in the evening there was still two hours left in the work day and from past experience... that is plenty of time for a lot of things to happen.

 The thing to happen was a phone call.

 "Hi, this is Jade from the main store. We've gotten... some... interesting phone calls. Is there... a... hmm... is there a dead body out in front of your store?"

 Pause.

 "We'll take care of it, bye."

 Who wants to be the one to poke the cadaver on the sidewalk? A volunteer from the audience! Ms Crowe: won't you come down?!

 I have had it planted firmly in my mind that Crowe certainly understands the concept of fear but does not recognize it. Apart from being one of our most reliable drivers, she is also a performer, a street medic, an activist, and most notably... a fire-breather.

 You have your hobbies.

 Point is- she's brave enough to check to see if the person laying on the sidewalk was dead or simply overdosed.

 As it turns out, it was Yeehaw- curled up in the fetal position with his arm covering his face.

 "Hey," Crowe said, poking him with her foot. "Heeeeeeey," she said again but more firmly this time. He moved, blinking in the evening the sun. "Buddy, you can't be laying around on the sidewalk. You gotta move on."

 Again, he slowly got to his feet. At this time, his mother emerged from Hallmark to see him talking with Crowe. A group of four people escorted him into Mom's car while he stopped every few feet to perform another 'namaste' bow.

 You think this is the end. But what have we learned?

 There's always more.

 He came in the next day as if none of this had happened. Conversation was difficult because we both desperately needed to know what the fuck happened and also did not want to trigger something. So we didn't bring it up. He apologized for leaving early: chronic fatigue syndrome, you know.

 Other places would have fired him, but we're a very forgiving workplace. Falling asleep on company time is not, in any way, the worst thing that someone has done at this location while still keeping their job. There was Sugar and her drugs, there was the dude that used the company van to pick up prostitutes (this was before my time), there was the guy that screamed at customers over the phone... it's a long list.

 The primary concern of our employers is whether or not you are a reliable person. If you routinely show up for your job and do the work, you're going to be okay at least for a little bit. And Yeehaw, for all his impeccable fuckery, at least showed up every day.

 We kept this at the back of our minds.

 One day, after the Day We Found Him In a Bush was behind us, one of the designers mentioned that they'd seen where Aggie works now. It was not in HR.

 It was our major competitor.

 Now, Grandpa knows this competitor well. She knows all her competition. It is the nature of a lot of florists to, once they've gotten sick of one place, move on to the next one and spill the beans on their operations there. So Grandpa gets the dirt on everyone.

 This particular shop was very regimented. You don't wing it- you follow the recipe as listed. He's been known to pick discarded flowers up off the floor and tell you exactly how much  money you're costing the company by letting it fall, to the cent. If you get so far as to make casket sprays, he will take your first one and chuck it across the room if it even looks like the stems are in there too loosely.

 This is what I mean about us being an easy place to work.

 Hashtag: #ohfuck.

 People come in and out of your life like that, in little ways. Sometimes you just have to have a little laugh at it. But what I thought was funny was that she felt the need to keep her new employer a secret, as though we would get jealous or tattle. Curious thing.

 Now that the glamour of Yeehaw's arrangements had worn off, we were starting to see more and more odd behaviors that didn't seem completely related to drunkenness.

 "Did you just fart?"

 "No, that was a spider barking."

 Amazing.

 Conversation with him was becoming... difficult. As I sat in the break room with my quick lunch and he drank soup out of a mayonnaise jar, he mentioned his area of study in college.

 "Cognitive Psychology and Hindu Philosophy, huh? That's an interesting combination."

 "Yeah," he said, funneling an amount of squash soup down his throat. "It'll take the rest of the world about 100 years before they catch up to where I am."

 I sat, posed in front of my beef and broccoli which I was eating with a fork, trying to process a logical reason why the rest of the world will be sleeping in a bush in one hundred years. "Uh... huh."

 This was followed by another thirty minutes of silence where I desperately wanted to know what he meant by that but didn't want to be the one to ask him.

 People will tell you that a hippie is generally an ineffective, benign kind of person who chants 'love love, peace peace' in a circle and consider that to be an action for change. But I can say with absolute certainty that I have met some downright egotistical hippies in my life. Those were lessons in bias- which I will have to save for other times.

 Eventually, Grandpa became frustrated with his slowness. We presumed that his speed of choice was a combination of his meticulous nature and his various ailments, but with the Christmas season coming upon us it was becoming much more than a series of symptoms.

 Previous persons who lacked speed were chatty, would play on their phone, or get distracted. But Yeehaw... Yeehaw simply moved like a tranquilized sloth. He slowly picked off each leaf, each thorn, each guard petal and took a minute for each action. He would put in his greens and then contemplate it powerfully for ten minutes before putting any flowers in... slowly.

 In the time spent doing this, I had already made something of a similar size and was starting on the second one.

 It was during one of these times that Grandpa finally said something.

 "Yeehaw, that spray is due in thirty minutes. Is there a way you can go any faster?"

 He looked up from his greens, held one carnation to his face, and said:

 "If you wanted me to move faster, you would pay me better."

 Let me start by saying that we do not get paid well. We don't. Compared to other flower shops in our city, we are probably the lowest-paid. This is something that the company is starting to work on with benefits and raises, but any amount of change takes time. (And its still better paying than when I worked in retail. But that's another book.)

 Yeehaw had been here for exactly one month. I don't know a single workplace that gives you a raise after one month and still lets you sleep on the clock without firing you. He knew what he was getting paid when we hired him.

 So anyways, he slowly grinds down our nerves to a very fine dust- burping, farting, falling asleep on his feet, staring intensely into space, talking about how much he should be making but isn't, bragging about his enlightenment, and generally just slowing down production.

 And then Grandpa had her well-earned vacation week. Blue was in charge for the most part and the week leading up to Halloween is generally pretty slow, so it was a good week for her to have a break with few mishaps.

 Eh... hehe. Yeah.

 Yeehaw... disappeared again. We checked the cooler, we checked the break room, we checked the bushes out back, we checked the sidewalk out front.

 He was in the bathroom.

 So we left it.

 He was still in the bathroom an hour later.

 We had one of the male drivers pound on the door to check on him. When Yeehaw opened the door to the men's room, there was a wad of toilet paper on the floor that he'd been using as a pillow.

 If I may pause here to explain- our men's room is disgusting. I have deep cleaned it several times only for it to become a germ-fest once more in a matter of hours. I don't ask who is peeing all over the floor because, honestly, I have no desire to know what grown man can't aim his willy in the right direction.

 So in order to fall asleep in the bathroom, you have to be willing to sleep in pee. During a pandemic.

 He reappeared in the workroom, put his apron back on, looked around at all of us still working and said: "Wow, it must be really hard to get fired here."

 It was at this point that Blue informed Grandpa.

 "Tell him that he's fired," Grandpa said, clearly 1001% done with this.

 "I'm not going to fire him," Blue said. "I don't think I can fire anyone."

 So she had the driver that found him do it, which was confusing for all of us. He ended up calling Grandpa to clarify. And by 'clarify,' I definitely mean 'beg for his job back.' A synopsis of the 20 minute phone call went like this:

 "What do you mean, I'm fired?"

 "Just that. You're fired. I'm tired of it, Yeehaw. You don't work here anymore."

 "Why?"

 "What do you mean 'why?' You spend all day making a total of three arrangements and then you wander off somewhere and fall asleep."

 "I can't help it if I have chronic fatigue syndrome!"

 "This is a physical job. If your body can't handle an 8-hour shift without falling asleep for two hours, this isn't the job for you. Tell me: where is that fair to the girls that you do 3% of the work while they pick up the slack and you wander off to sleep on the clock?"

 "I simply do not care about them."

 "You don't care that you're shoving all the work on your coworkers, and that's why you're fired."

 "I wish you'd given me a warning."

 "Tell me, Yeehaw: how many employers can you find that will allow you to sleep on the clock for two hours and let you off with a warning?"

 End of discussion.

 Now, you're probably wondering where Aggie comes back into this. Just hold tight, I'll get there.

 The Sunday after he was fired, he came in to pick up his paycheck. I was busy handling a minor emergency where one of our funeral homes forgot to order a spray and I had to make one as fast as I could. We held a brief conversation while I made the spray in a hurry.

 "I'm here to pick up my check," he said while I greened the spray and leafed through the paychecks simultaneously.

 "Here you go," I said, handing it to him without much fanfare. I presumed that he was looking for sympathy or some kind of followup or... I don't know. Sorry you suddenly care about your job?

 "So what are your next plans," one of the designers asked, trying to coax more information out of him while I did the work of three people.

 "It's kind of funny," he said slowly... as he did all things. "I've only ever been fired from flower shops." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to go apply to the shop in Bexley that Aggie went to."

[spencers-renaissance]

Honeysuckle

Summary: The BAU decide to head out for a picnic one summer afternoon, but they’re soon rudely interrupted by a bee sting and anaphylactic shock. Seeing Spencer carted off in an ambulance is not exactly how they expected the day to go.

Tags: whump, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt spencer, friendship, medical conditions, severe allergic reactions

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid 

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Spencer had initially been wary of Penelope’s invitation to picnic in Meridian Hill Park one beautiful summer afternoon — he burned way too easily and didn’t like exposing himself to insects more than absolutely necessary — but as soon as she’d mentioned Derek was going, he’d given in. He wasn’t about to turn down an afternoon spent in the sun with his best friends and boyfriend. It was a rare day off for the team: one not even spent hanging by their phone expecting to be called in any minute, so they were all insistent on making the most of it. 

He’s the last one to arrive, spotting the others sat in the shade of an oak tree, already laughing as they get stuck into their first drinks of the afternoon. Despite his initial hesitations, as soon as he feels the sun on his face and sees his friends he’s immediately glad he turned up and he hurries over to join the rest of the team, his own contributions to the picnic in hand. 

“Pretty boy!” Derek shouts, grinning widely as he jumps up from his lazy position on the blanket to wrap Spencer in a hug, before pulling back slightly to kiss him. He can already tell he’s a little tipsy, and although Spencer doesn’t drink he has nothing against everyone else letting their hair down and having fun; God knows they deserve it. 

His relationship with Derek is only a few months old, and he still relishes every moment he gets to spend wrapped up in his arms.

“Hey guys.” His words are muffled slightly by Derek’s shoulder as his boyfriend is reluctant to let him go, but as soon as he’s released, he turns to match everyone’s wide grins. 

“Did you bring the strawberries?” Emily asks, levelling him with a faux-stern look that she can’t maintain for long, melting back into her relaxed smile soon enough.

“Of course.” He takes a seat on the picnic blanket only to be immediately wrapped into a side hug by Penelope. He hugs back before beginning to unpack his bag.

“What about the icing sugar?” she asks, and her stern glare isn’t fake at all: Spencer knows how seriously Penelope takes a) organisation, and b) sweet treats.

“Who do you take me for?” he laughs, retrieving the fruit and sugar from his bag and taking a swig of the cool lemonade he’d packed in his thermos. 

Sometimes he wishes he could go back in time and show lonely, teenage Spencer pictures of days like these. One day, he’ll be twenty six, working at his dream job, and spending his days off in the warmth of the East Coast sun one Sunday afternoon surrounded by his best friends, kissed by his boyfriend at every opportunity. They’ve never asked him to be anything other than exactly who he is, inviting them into their group and doting on him relentlessly, loving him just as much as he loves them. 

It’s a luxury you only appreciate when you’ve known the loneliness of summer: when the hum of the AC is the only sound in your stuffy, humid dorm room, and you’re researching the effects of methane on winter weather patterns as you long for cold weather again, because then at least then you don’t have to listen to the excited shouts of friends outside anymore, then it’s acceptable to isolate yourself inside with only yourself and books for company.

He shakes himself out of his miserable recollections and reminds himself to be in the present. Emily has her head in Penelope’s lap as they discuss which incarnation of Doctor Who is the best while JJ and Derek discuss the new jogging park opening up across the border in Virginia. He knows which conversation is more suited to his interests and immediately goes up to bat for the Seventh Doctor, which manages to engage him in a spirited debate with both women. 

Soon, though, they find themselves all discussing their workplace embarrassments and recalling the funniest moments from over the last few years, and Spencer loses himself in the heat of the afternoon and the warmth of his friendships. He’s gorged himself on all the strawberries and sandwiches he could stomach, and as the afternoon stretches longer and evening approaches he lies down on the blanket and rests his head in Derek’s lap, mirroring Penelope and Emily. His eyes flutter closed as his full belly and heat of the sun tire him out, and Derek’s fingers thread themselves through Spencer’s long hair, a light and welcome touch. 

The haze of his friends still chatting around him as he dozes comfortably is interrupted, however, when he feels a sharp pinch on his wrist and seconds later, he’s fighting for breath. He launches upright, wheezing as he claws at his chest, trying desperately to fill his lungs with enough air. 

“Spencer? Oh my God, Spencer, what’s wrong?” Penelope cries, immediately by his side as she looks him over frantically, not knowing what’s happening. 

“Derek, call an ambulance,” JJ directs, taking charge as she rushes to Spencer’s side as well. “He’s in anaphylactic shock. Spencer, listen to me, do you have your epi-pen with you?”

Her words manage to get through the panicked haze and light-headedness as he can’t get enough oxygen. He can feel his face swelling and his heart racing, but he’s still coherent enough to point to his bag. 

“He didn’t eat anything, though,” Emily says, panicked and confused as she watches her friend have a medical crisis while she’s powerless to help. 

“He’s allergic to bees,” JJ says, keeping calm as she prepares the epi-pen and administers it to Spencer’s thigh. “One must have stung him for some reason.”

“There!” Penelope points to the bee sting on Spencer’s wrist and JJ lunges for her bag, rummaging until she finds her credit card which she uses to carefully slide under the stinger and remove it, preventing any more venom from flowing into Spencer’s system.

It’s clear after a few minutes that the epi-pen hasn’t worked: Spencer still feels like he can’t catch his breath and the world is fading slowly as his heart beats out of control and his organs can’t get enough oxygen. 

He feels himself be moved gently by various hands as JJ directs the others until he’s leaning up as comfortably as possible against Derek’s chest as Penelope elevates his legs to keep blood flowing to his vital organs. 

“It’s okay, Spencer,” JJ says loudly, right in front of his face. It’s blurry and out of focus and he can feel himself losing consciousness fast. “The ambulance is on its way.” 

It’s the last thing he hears before he collapses completely as he passes out. 

⭐️

It’s dark outside when Spencer finally wakes up. His bed is warm and comfortable and he lets himself listen to the somewhat comfortable steady beeps of the heart monitor and movement of staff and patients around the ward before finally opening his eyes to scan his room. 

Derek’s sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair right next to his bed, sketching what Spencer can only guess are plans for the property he’s just taken on, an empty jello cup balancing on the armrest of his chair. 

“Sandwiches and strawberries not fill you up?” he asks, voice croaky as he cracks an eye open. He can’t help but smile, too. He has the best boyfriend and the best friends anyone could ever hope for.

Derek’s head snaps up as he hears Spencer’s voice, setting his notebook and jello aside to grab for Spencer’s hand. “You are something else,” he chuckles. “Your first thought when coming round from a medical disaster is an observation of my eating patterns.” He shakes his head fondly. “ But you know I can’t pass up a tub of jello.”

“That’s true. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you say no when it’s offered.”

“You’re one to talk, pretty boy.” 

They lapse into short silence, accompanied only by the quiet beeps of the machines. “Sorry I scared you,” he whispers eventually, feeling guilt wrap itself around his stomach. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your fault.” Derek looks sincere as he holds Spencer’s hand tighter, careful of the IV in his wrist. “The doctors… they said it was a severe attack, which is probably why the first epi-pen didn’t work. They’re monitoring you overnight to make sure there was no damage to your kidneys, I think. I’ll go find a doctor to tell them you’re awake.”

He moves to get out of his seat, but Spencer pulls him back down, as well as he can when he’s still feeling weak. “No, just… don’t leave,” he asks, his voice coming out a little too pleading for his liking. “Stay.”

The idea of being alone right now twists his stomach; the idea of being without Derek so desperately scary. 

“Okay, okay, baby,” Derek relents, sitting back down and running a soothing hand through his tangled hair, Spencer’s eyes fluttering closed at the contact. “I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to.” Instead, he presses the button for the nurse. 

“Where are the others?” Spencer dares to ask after a few seconds of quiet. 

“The nurses weren’t too happy with four people in here,” Derek chuckles. “I’ve been updating them by text; I’ll tell them you’re awake in a minute. JJ saved your life, you know. None of us had any clue what was happening but she was the only one who kept calm and the only one who got us through those awful minutes waiting for the ambulance to show up.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I told her I was allergic to bee stings years ago. It was just an off-hand comment, it never feels like that big a deal… this is only the third time this has ever happened. I guess I don’t feel the need to bring it up.”

“Well that off-hand comment saved your life, pretty boy.” Derek squeezes his eyes closed for a second, and when he opens them the emotion written on his face is heart-wrenching. “God, I can’t believe I could’ve lost you. There were a good few minutes there when I didn’t think you were gonna make it and after… Tobias… I was just so scared.”

Spencer’s stomach clenches at that, imagining the roles reversed is terrifying just as a hypothetical. He can’t even begin to imagine how Derek felt. He reaches a hand out to touch Derek’s face gently, squeezing his hand with the other. “But you didn’t lose me,” he murmurs. “I’m here, I’m  okay.” 

“Yeah.” His voice is barely a whisper as his eyes close again. “Is it bad that I kind of want bees to go extinct now?” he asks with a wet chuckle a few moments later.

“Derek!” Spencer laughs weakly, acting scandalised. “Bees are fundamental to the global ecosystem. Civilisation would effectively collapse if bees went extinct, it’s definitely not worth eradicating bees for the sake of me avoiding the rarity of anaphylactic shock, not according to the laws of proportionality. It’s actually frightening how fast the bee population is depleting though… did you know that there are only about 2.5 million honey-producing hives left in the US? That’s down from 4.5 million in 1980 and the loss has largely been attributed to colony collapse disorder—”

“Ah, Doctor Reid, you’re awake.” A smiling nurse bustles through the door and comes to check his vitals, fiddling with one of his IVs before taking a step back. “How’s your breathing? Is the nasal cannula okay or would you prefer a full mask?”

“The cannula’s good,” he says, smiling politely. Really, he just wants to get back to telling Derek all the bee facts he can recall. He has some really good ones itching to be let out. “I’m breathing fine, just feel a little weak still.”

“Good. Your vitals all look stable, so a doctor will be round in the morning to talk you through your treatment and medication. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine, thank you,” Spencer nods, and she gives them one last smile before leaving the room and sliding the door shut quietly behind her.

“I should bring her back in,” Derek chuckles as the nurse leaves the room. “She missed out on your bee lecture. Fascinating stuff.”

“Shut up,” Spencer huffs, sinking back against the pillows. “You don’t deserve to hear my bee facts.”

“No,” Derek protests, grinning widely. “I’m joking, baby, carry on. You were telling me about colony collapse disorder.”

Spencer knows that, of course — he does have an eidetic memory after all — but it makes him smile that Derek remembers exactly where he was in his spiel. Maybe Penelope’s onto something when she says that Derek is “whipped” for him. (It had taken at least fifteen minutes for Spencer to fully understand what she meant by that, mostly because he kept asking about the etymology, history, and statistical usage of the word and she kept rolling her eyes, which he would then insist was not an answer.)

“Colony collapse disorder is depressing,” Spencer sighs, feeling quite tired all of a sudden. “I don’t feel like explaining it.”

“It doesn’t sound great.” Derek goes back to threading his fingers through Spencer’s hair. “Why don’t you tell me your favourite three bee facts, and then you can go back to sleep”

Spencer hums, giving it a bit of thought before replying. “Scientists trained bees to score goals in bee soccer in return for a sugary treat, which is especially interesting because they have brains the size of a poppy seed. They communicate with one another by wiggling their butts. It’s like their own language, they tell their nestmates where to go to get the best food. Bees also live in loads of different places, not just in the countryside. My favourite place they live is in marshes and wetlands, because I love insects that live in watery areas.”

“I’d pay to watch bees play soccer,” Derek laughs quietly. “You’re so smart, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Spencer sighs happily. “Love you,” he murmurs, eyes closing against the exhaustion. 

“I love you more.”

Spencer isn’t awake long enough to argue with him.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith 

[lvlyhao]

『lifetimes; H.R』

one-shot; huang renjun

A/N: it’s been a hot minute since i posted the teaser but welp it’s finally here :] this has got to be one of my favourite things i’ve ever written so please give it some love!!

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: not a lot of it but fluff (♡), angst (❆), fantasy (✯), author’s favourite (ツ)

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: some mentions of death but nothing too explicit

word count: 2.8K

pairing: huang renjun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

With chocolate eyes that dazzle golden under the light, he scouts the forest. The canopy is thick above his head and shudders every few seconds when some creature hurriedly passes by. The trees' branches sway in the breeze, and he can almost hear their rumbling under the chirping birds. The ever-so-green grass is dank under his boots, and he can still smell the rain that ended just a couple minutes ago. The Sun, though, seems to have no recollection of that. He is as argent as always, here in the Violet Woods. The place is dazzling, alive, and crisp; far too different from his own home, but also far less foreign. 

Graceful fingers reach for the periwinkle flowers just left from the tallest red oak, kissing their soft petals as he wonders where they are. Renjun is positive he's at the right place, and this is the right time. Noon, by the bush of forget-me-nots. He could only hope they hadn't misremembered this week's chosen spot. Knowing them, it's perfectly possible. Maybe he should head to the muttering roses, where they had met last week, and wait there instead...

Laboured breaths and feathery footsteps sound from behind him a second later, and he doesn't have to turn around to know it's them.

"You're late", he states, fierce gaze still burning in the flowers.

Renjun doesn't expect an apology, not really, but the mellow hand they lay on his shoulder is just as startling. Still kneeling, he twirls to face them at once, and he doesn't miss the dim look of urgency that paints their features.

"Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?"

They don't answer him. Instead, their lips curl into a small smile that Renjun supposes is meant to calm his nerves. It doesn't work very well, or well at all, and he stands up to his full height, holding their hand in his.

Both of their hearts beat loudly, wildly attempting to escape their ribcages. However, neither of them shies away from the proximity. Renjun and Y/N idly stand together for a second, basking in each other's warmth when they speak for the first time today.

"Father knows about you."

If the incoming information is anything short of shocking, he doesn't let it show. His keen, fox-like traits remain the same as he searches their eyes for something else—fear, rage, or any other emotion. Something that would tell him what to do now. 

Nodding slowly, he gently squeezes their fingers, waiting for them to continue. 

The way Renjun looks at them is enough to make Y/N's throat tighten in concern. From the palace, all the way over here, they've been trying to conceal it, but they no longer can. 

It's freezing cold, even against the strings of sunlight that filter through the trees. Its' grip is vicious, instilling into their body a form of despair they had never felt before. It is the dawning realization that their little world is shattering, and there's little they can do to save it.

"...And he calls you a filthy mortal."

Somehow, Renjun finds it in him to snort. Out of all the things he thought they would say, that was certainly not one of them, but it makes him happy. After all those months, they still manage to catch him off-guard. Will they ever stop doing that?

"Aren't you elves so kind?" he laughs, lifting his other hand to gently flick at their pointy ears.

Y/N simply huffs, dodging his fingers and escaping from his hold to pace around the trees.

Watching them in silence, Renjun thinks their race truly is something else. Elegant, breathtaking, stunning, unmatched, perfect. Sharp edges give way to soft curves that make him question the existence of all deities. Should he turn his face in shame? Should he go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness over sins he didn't commit? Should he declare them as his one redemption and worship them until his breath forever ceases?

Sighing dreamily, he thinks he, too, would be an arrogant bastard if he looked anything like an elf.

"Don't put that on us, Renjun. You, humans, have a terrible tendency to destroy and foul the space you occupy" Y/N turns to him. 

Placing their hands on their hips, they know they're falling into the usual routine: bickering about historical events between the two races until one gives up. That's how their rendezvous always begins, and they wouldn't have it any other way, but today something hovers in the air between them.

Doubts.

Renjun can't keep himself from speaking.

"He will banish you some time, Y/N. You know we can't keep this up forever."

He's right, and they know. Had it not been for the strands of sunshine dancing across their frame, they would have shivered. The thought of getting banished from their realm is terrifying. Y/N is still incredibly young for an elf—just over their 75 years—but they've lived enough to know how it goes for elves who get exiled. 

For an elf, banishment isn't being outlawed from your homeland. That is most indisputably sad, and Y/N would cry about it for some time, missing nature's presence from her forests. Although that's not the part of the exile that frightens them: it's the loss of immortality, their lifelines cut too short from straying from their hearths.

Death is no friend of the elves, as everybody knows. The mere idea of perishing from disease or poison is strange to their minds, if not altogether catastrophic. It's not normal, as it is not natural. It's almost reason enough to stop Y/N from making her offer, but the pink haze in their eyes wouldn't allow them to.

"Run away with me then", they mutter, slowly closing the distance between them and the boy once again. Something in Renjun's eyes shifts, and his pink lips part to speak, but not yet. 

"Protect me from the dangers of mortality. We could go south to the Cristalline Planes, Injun", Y/N stops in front of him. "Or, maybe even head west, since I know you've always wanted to see Wistful Shores."

Hope shines bright in their complexion, burning with such richness it nearly turns into despair. What they're doing is not asking—they're pleading, and Renjun nearly collapses to the ground at the honeyed tone in their voice. However, the glow of their fingers, smoothly tracing the shapes of his light robes, grounds him. Their touch is as delicate as the breeze, and it takes all of his self-control not to say "yes" right away.

"And let you give up on eternal life for me? That is possibly the most foolish decision I have ever heard of", he says, stoping their movements to lace his fingers between theirs.  

For a moment, everything around the two of them stills and fades into silence. The woods are quieter than ever before, and even the tree's lullaby comes to a halt. Nothing exists out of their eyes, embedded deep into the others'. 

His might just be Y/N's favourite thing in the whole entire world. The vibrant, sunny brown of his orbs reminds them of the goodness still left in mortals. They shimmer, sparkle and flicker with every bit of emotion Renjun feels, for they are too honest not to. It would be nothing short of a crime if they ever lied about his heart.

Y/N's are what he would describe as literal gateways. To where? Well, that, he will always argue. Some nights, when the stars are out, he could swear the entire universe is right there, before him. On other occasions, when what surrounds them are the glistening streaks of dawn, Renjun sees magic in its purest form. He could spend all of his life staring at them and still feel like there's too much left to explore.

"I don't think this foolish decision is yours to make, then", they decide, lightly squeezing his hands and glancing down to the ground. "I would rather live one more hour with you than one hundred lifetimes on my own."

There is a sharp intake in his breath as if a blade had buried itself deep in his stomach. It pains him just the same, he realizes. Hearing them say that and knowing they speak the truth brings tears to his eyes because he knows this is the point where he has to stop them. Stop them from wondering about the "what if's" and from asking that of him. Gods know if they ask again, he won't have the strength to decline.

"I, on the other hand, would like for you to live a very long, happy, fulfilling life," he remarks, hoping the shaking in his voice is not too evident. "And for that to happen, you can't be that much of an idiot, okay? Don't give that away for some human prince, Y/N."

"And what if that human prince is all I care about? What if he is my entire existence, and my one reason to sleep through the nights is to dream about him? What then, Renjun?" they challenge. 

It's rare to see elves speaking in any way that is not moderate, light, but the fire in their voice is nothing like he's ever seen. It's the same anger that fuels them to pull him closer, resting their palms on his warm cheeks and wiping away the tears he didn't know have fallen. 

"Then you must tell me what does that make me. What is this between us?" Renjun mutters, eyes closing with soft flutters. Guilt claws at his chest for not immediately putting an end to it but savouring the moment, feeling himself fall a bit deeper for the elf as each second ticks by.

"Love", Y/N simply states, sighing when his hands come together to hold the small of their back. "It's love."

"A part of me wishes you had not said that", he leans into their touch. "Had you said 'nothing' and stopped torturing me, my heart would have been broken, but I would have been fine. How can I be, now, when all you've just done makes me cherish you more?" he chuckles bitterly.

He knows what they're about to say, and he can't stand to hear it, so he continues talking, eyes indolently opening to scan their features.

"Things are different for us, Y/N. While you don't have to worry about succeeding the throne, that is my fate. To be a good ruler for my people when my own father dies. I can't leave them behind", Renjun breathes, hating the way their hopeful look melts into denial.

"You have a brother, you know? Leave him to rule. We've both seen what it's like to wear the crown, Injun", they grimace. 

It is true. Being part of the royal family means you grow used to many horrible sights and dark secrets. He can't help but wonder what it will be like to live all of that and not have you to keep him sane.

Shaking his head to dissolve querying thoughts, Renjun attempts to focus on something else that is not them. It's dangerous to be that close, feeling their own ragged breaths fawning over his face. He is just one touch away from all he has ever wanted, but one touch away is still forbidden. In that one touch lies his downfall.

As if hearing his prayers, the wind blows stronger, running through his silken, dark locks and messing up Y/N's. It backfires, though. The urge he has to resist now is to run his hands through their hair, pushing away all of the wild strands that frame their face, and he curses. Nothing could ever make this any less difficult for him.

"If Chenle ever becomes king, I pity the people that will live under his hand." 

He smiles, and Y/N realizes he must be attempting to make a joke. They wish they could laugh, but the conclusion behind his words hangs in the air. He won't change his mind, will he?

A sob leaves their body as suddenly as the tears come. Their vision turns misty, and the cold awareness that hits them is too much to manage. Wordlessly, Y/N falls to their knees, hugging their own body in attempts to calm the heartbreaking cries pouring from their lips. The pleasant spring evening turns cold and unforgiving, and the elf loses their bearings for a second, only to realize Renjun has dropped to the ground in front of them.

Neither of them dares to open their eyes when two bodies become one, and the only thing they know is each other. Fingers grasp at robes, armour and leather, and rough sobs blend together in utter heartbreak. Renjun pulls them so close he's not sure which limbs are his or whose tears he's tasting, but it hardly matters. This is where they end.

How much time they spend lost in each other's embraces is unclear. Neither Y/N nor Renjun knows, and they don't want to. Acknowledging time is dangerous here because it means accepting this moment won't last forever, and that is something they can't—won't do. It won't be so until they let it, right?

Wrong, and they know it. The Sun is going down.

When sobs have turned into whimpers and clutches have turned into caresses, Y/N takes the courage to pull away and look at him.

The prince's eyes are red and puffy, much like theirs, they imagine. His pale cheeks are stained with dry tears, and his pretty lips still tremble from the deep breaths. He doesn't meet their gaze until they call his name.

"Renjun", they call once more, admiring the blue hour lights shifting across his dashing features. "I—" Y/N gasps, and he's suddenly terrified of what they'll say. "I think maybe... maybe we should no longer meet. I can't bear to look at you and know you're not mine to take."

Just like that, his fears were confirmed. In his mind, he knows this is how it was supposed to go all along. This is for the best, he reminds himself, even if right now it feels like having your soul ripped to shreds.

"Don't say it like that, Y/N. I've always been, and I'll always be yours", he flashes a watery smile. "Perhaps just... in another lifetime."

The pain becomes too much to handle, and all they can do is close the space between them again. Their last and first kiss is salty, from the tears they both still shed and bittersweet, from the goodbye it speaks.

How poetic, they think, to say goodbye right by a bush of forget-me-nots. I'll surely never forget him.

"Go now", Y/N whispers as they part, "before I kiss you again and never let you go."

A heartbroken chuckle leaves his lips while he touches his forehead against theirs. 

"Remember me, Y/N", he begs, slowly dragging them to their feet. "Remember me like this, young and well, learning what the flowers you mark our spots with look like. Always see me like this: grateful and completely in love with you."

"How could I not, my prince?"

And in truth, how could they not?

To say Y/N never forgot about Renjun is a misunderstanding. They never forgot about him, and they never stopped thinking about him either. His are every emotion they've felt. Every split of every second in every day of their life was and is dedicated to him. His smile is all they see when they close their eyes, and his laughter sounds right by their side whenever they visit the forget-me-not fields. He lived in all of the things surrounding them, and even in the name of that corner right by the tallest red oak: Prince's Lair.

Likewise, his very soul was bound to Y/N from the day they met to the day he died, still in reverence of how much devotion it is possible to feel for someone. He grew older and eventually found a family, yes, and he even went to war. His eyes held visions he would never wish for anyone to see, but they were still his first thought in the morning and the last one in the night when he allowed himself to weep for their lost future. He got to see the most distant borders of many kingdoms, and he got to meet people in all of them. Yet, no creature on this Earth ever compared to Y/N—his Y/N.

Even at the tender age of 18, Renjun was wise. 

Aeons of praying upon the stars never changed their fortune, but maybe there is something else to their fates.

Y/N never stopped loving Renjun, and Renjun loved them until his days were over, but their paths never crossed again.

Perhaps in another lifetime.

[everlarkficexchange]

Under the Rain

Written by: @nightlock-1989

Prompt 9: Canon-Divergent/ In Panem D12 “I waited for you” he said but she didn’t reply. He pressed for an answer he knew he deserved, “under the rain, Katniss. I waited for you, under the rain… why would you do that?” / “I can’t do this anymore, Peeta” / “Bullshit, you can but you just don’t want. I thought you were brave!” he yelled at her looking for any reaction that will give some hope. His tears threatening to run down his face. / She didn’t move, and she didn’t correct her, so he ran away and slammed the door behind him. / “I love you” Katniss said to an empty room. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

@alwayseverlark, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with for your prompt. This is part one that sets the foundation for what will happen in your prompt. This will be three parts.

Under the Rain- Part One- Rated T

16 years old

Not Prim, not Prim, not Prim, not Prim.

“Ela Fairsmith” Effie Trinket announces.

I breathe a sigh of relief and do everything I can to fight a smile. While Prim and I are spared, Ela, a girl two years older than me from the Seam was just reaped and is walking to her death.

Madge subtly reaches for my hand and gives it a light squeeze. She looks to me with a tight-lipped smile.

“Now for the male tribute,” the escort says with excitement.

Not Gale, not Gale, not Gale, not Gale.

“Pe-“ she begins.

I tighten the hold on Madge’s hand enough to the point she lets out a small hiss.

“-ter Edmund.”

I finally release the breath I was holding. It’s another boy from the Seam, slightly younger than me.

“Sorry,” I mumble. She removes her hand and sets it on my shoulder.

“You should go find your sister,” she recommends.

I move to walk away when Madge grabs me by the wrist.

“Are you going tonight?” she asks.

“To what?” I answer.

“The celebration by the meadow.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Gale’s last year; right?”

“I don’t think—”

“Just think about it,” she shrugs. “I’ll be there at 8:00.”

Her behavior puzzles me.  Every year, the teenagers of District 12, gather in the meadow and have a bonfire, both Seam and Merchant, to celebrate the fact that they weren’t reaped. This is particularly popular among those who have aged out of the Reaping or have a loved one who aged out.

I’ve never been but I’ve heard the older kids whisper about it.  People save any extra money to obtain some white liquor from Ripper, causing Haymitch Abernathy, her best customer to lose his mind one year. It’s not uncommon for girls to come to my mother for an herb concoction, finding themselves pregnant after the night at the Slag Heap.

For both classes, it’s their last true night of freedom, their final chance to be irresponsible. Tomorrow will be their final day of rest and later in the night, the only thing they will be doing is going to bed early to begin their life in the mines or in town.

It is Gale’s final reaping and while one would think he could breathe easier, it doesn’t. While Gale has aged out, Rory will be eligible next year, and eventually Vick and Posy. I’m lucky with just Prim. I don’t see why Gale would want to go to something so stupid.

I open my mouth to disagree while backing up, when I suddenly hit something solid and nearly trip. Hands grab my hips to hold me steady, but I shy away at the touch and immediately turn around to see who touched me. I look into the wide blue eyes of Peeta Mellark. I imagine mine are filled with fury.

“Uh, sorry. I, uh-um, I thought,” he rambles.

“I have to find Prim,” I spit out before storming off.

I see her smiling with her group of friends when I approach. She throws her arms around me and my heart warms.

“Ready to go home, Little Duck?” She nods and we go to meet my mother.

Later while enjoying an indulgent meal (for us anyway) of rabbit stew with the Hawthorne family, we are interrupted by a pounding on the door.

Hazelle goes to answer, and a frantic voice is asking for Violet, my mother. I hear a muted conversation and my mom informs us that a mother is expecting twins. Prim, a little healer in the making, offers to go. 8:00 comes around when Posy begins yawning, signaling time for bed.

Gale offers to walk me home, but I decline, and we make plans to meet early tomorrow morning.

I don’t live too far from the Hawthorne’s but it’s a nice night and I decide to take a walk. I become aware of someone around. I look and see Cray, the head Peacekeeper.

“Katniss Everdeen,” he says with a smug grin.

“Officer Cray,” I greet ducking my head down.

“Looks like the odds were in your favor.” Cray begins stepping towards me.

I continue walking but look up. “I suppose so.”

“What are you doing out here alone?” he asks curiously.

“I’m not…er, I won’t be for long.”

He slowly continues walking my way and I decide to turn right instead of continuing forward.

“Heading to the meadow?”

“Yes,” I spit out.

He’s still following me, and the meadow is now in sight. I quicken my pace.

“Big plans, Miss Everdeen?”

“Yep.” I look in the crowd, but I don’t see Madge. I do see Peeta Mellark, and he’s spotted me. I’ve caught him staring at me a few times over the years, but he always looks away. Tonight, he doesn’t. Does he recognize the tense body language? Can he detect the fear in my eyes from this far away?

I don’t hesitate before I raise my hand and wave quickly. He breaks away from his group and starts walking towards me. I notice the moment that he sees Cray lurking in the shadows.

“Hi Peeta,” I say in what I hope is my most cheery voice. I don’t want Cray to register the terror in my voice.

“There you are, Katniss,” he says with a huge smile, as if nothing is wrong. He sets a hand on my shoulder and I slightly flinch. His blue eyes pierce mine, silently telling me to go with it. “Madge almost had us send out a search party. You told us you would be here at 8:00,” the sound of his voice increasing slightly.

“My mom needed me to drop off some supplies. Mrs. Oatbrook’s having twins.”

“Well, let’s go find Madge so she calms down.” He guides me forward with his hand on my back.

“Breathe in,” he leans in closer and whispers. When we reach the other teens, I finally allow myself to exhale.

“Are you okay?” he asks, bending down to look me over.

“Fine,” I say shortly.

“Are you sure?” he bends his head down to look in my eyes.

I’m momentarily stunned. Have his eyes always been that shade of blue. I feel as if I could get lost forever in them before I shake the thoughts away. Why am I thinking about Peeta Mellark? I need to get a handle on this situation. “Damn it, Peeta. I’m fine. You don’t need to rescue me all the time,” I say storming off after I spot Madge engaged in a conversation with Delly Cartwright. She’s just nodding her head.

“Hi, Katniss. I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” Delly drones on and on while I try to calm down. I begin looking around for a Seam kid I recognize when I spot one of Gale’s friends, Thom. Okay, good. I’ll leave when he leaves. My house is along his route.

“Thirsty?” Madge asks.

I’m not even thinking straight or registering the odd, burning taste until it’s already down my throat, having been desperate to ease my dry throat. I must have drunk half her bottle but all I can do now is cough.

Why did that taste like peaches?

“Because it’s mixed with peach juice,” Madge laughs.

“Wait, what?” Did I say that out loud?

Delly begins laughing. “Have you ever drunk before, Katniss?”

“No,” I shake my head.

“May I?” Delly asks. Madge hands her the glass and she takes a drink and ponders. “What is that?”

“Something called vodka. I swiped it from my mom’s dresser.”

“Rye,” Delly calls. Rye Mellark is one year from aging out. The resemblance he has to his brothers is remarkable. When he approaches, I look him in the eye. His eyes are blue but not the same as Peeta’s. Ugh, I’m thinking of Peeta again.

“Delly, Madge,” he says with a brief hug. “And Miss Everdeen, this is a rare gift,” he says with a curious tone. His smile is also nice, but he doesn’t have Peeta’s dimple.

“Can I have your glass?” Delly asks Rye. Delly takes another sip of the peach concoction and a sip of whatever Rye has.

“Well, I don’t see how this could be stronger than Rippers.”

“What stuff?” he asks.

Madge hands him the cup and he takes a small sip.

“Yeah, it’s not,” he answers quickly.

“I think you’ll be okay, Katniss,” Delly assures me. What does she mean I’ll be okay? I didn’t ingest poison or anything.

I’m getting very warm. I begin to remove my sweater and drape it over my arm. They’re talking but I’m not even caring. Everything feels…. lighter? But at the same time, my body feels heavier.

“I feel better already,” I say with a grin.

“Not as strong but Everdeen’s little as it is. She’ll be feeling it in the morning.”

“But the night is so young,” I say with a puzzled look. “It’s warm and the fire’s hot.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you pretty babes later.”

Delly and Madge giggle like a bunch of schoolgirls…. wait, so am I.

“He’s so cute,” Delly whispers.

“Eh, if he’s your type,” Madge says.

“I just love his eyes.”

“I thought Prim had the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen,” I offer.

“Katniss, we’re talking about boys,” Delly adds.

“The floor is moving,” I say and grab for Delly’s hand.

“You mean the ground?” Madge asks.

“Sure,” I let go and begin heading towards the large rock that I sometimes sit on after I finish hunting.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Madge grabs my elbow. “This is my fault. You’re sticking by me.”

I scoff. “Why is everyone trying to take care of me? I can take care of myself. First Mellark, now you.” I wrangle free from her grasp.

“Wait, Rye was trying to take care of you?” Delly asks.

“No, Mellark,” I emphasize. “MY boy with the bread. If we have to-to-to- aren’t you warm?” Madge shakes her head with a smirk.

Her and Delly glance to the side and wave someone over.

“What were you saying about Mellark?” Delly laughs putting a finger to her lip.

“Yeah, the boy with the bread?” Madge encourages.

“My,” I gesture with a hand to my chest. “MY boy with the bread.” The girls are laughing loudly. “And if we are going to talk about boys, then Peeta’s eyes are the most prettiest blue. And his brother doesn’t even have a dimple.”

“I think that might be the nicest compliment I’ve ever been given,” a familiar voice says.

“Ugh,” I turn around and glare at Madge. “No more strawberries for you. Screw this, I can walk my own ass home. I don’t need you,” I point to Peeta, “or you,” I point to Madge, “or you,” I point across the fire at Thom. They all dodge out of the way as if there are tracker jackers around. Maybe I’m just flailing instead of pointing.

“What did you give her?” Peeta asks.

“We already EEE-STAB-LISHED this,” I emphasize taking a step forward, tripping in the process. A pair of strong hands catch me.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Peeta suggests.

“I was trying to go to my rock by the tree, but Madge wouldn’t let me.”

“I wasn’t going to let her go alone,” Madge explains to Peeta.

“Smart idea.” Peeta looks around and leans into Madge and whispers, “Cray was eyeing her.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” I add.

“I know you’re not, Katniss,” Madge says with a frown.

“He can’t have me,” I proclaim.

“We know, Katniss. We just want to make sure you’re safe,” Peeta says.

“You and your savior complex,” I groan before marching towards my rock and plopping down.

After about a minute, I hear a loud gait approaching. “May I sit down?” Peeta asks.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll walk over there,” he points to a tree not too far from my rock. “And keep an eye on you there.”

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve done just fine on my own,” I scold.

“I know you have…. Everyone knows that you have.”

“Fine,” I huff, crossing my arms. I relent and move my sweater so that he may sit next to me. I tilt myself towards him, one leg tucked under my knee. “Wouldn’t you rather enjoy the party?”

“And miss out on the chance to speak to the elusive and mysterious Katniss Everdeen?” he grins. “Never.”

“I’m not mysterious,” I say.

“Yeah, you are. No one knows much about you.”

“So?”

“So…. If we are going to be friends, that means we tell each other the deep stuff.”

“Deep stuff?”

“Like what your favorite color is.”

“You’ve crossed a line now, Mellark,” I reply staring at him causing him to furrow his brow before I burst out laughing. He joins me. It’s a nice sound.

“Mine’s orange,” he says.

“Like the fruit?” I cringe.

“Softer, more muted…. Like a sunset.”

“The sunset over the lake is beautiful,” I say wistfully before covering my mouth and looking around.

“No one heard,” he assures me. “Well, except me…. Do you see many of those sunsets?”

“Only once since my dad died,” I mumble. “Green, like the woods.”

“That’s very appropriate for the strongest-willed girl in District 12.”

I scoff, “There you go again.”

“Go again with what?” he smiles.

“The compliments,” I say before the silence begins. I chance another glance and look in his eyes. We’re further away from the fire so it’s not as pronounced but I still can’t help getting lost in them. “Your eyes, they are like…. I don’t know. You can’t describe it.”

“They’re just blue,” he chuckles.

“No, they’re not. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“How much did you drink?” he teases while I give him a light shove.

“I don’t know.”

“Moonlight,” Peeta says softly.

I look up at the crescent moon puzzled. “What about it?”

“Your eyes… the only way I could describe it is it’s like moonlight,” Peeta answers before taking a drink and cringing. “How the hell does Haymitch drink this all the time?”

“Let me have some,” I reach for the cup and Peeta holds it out of my reach. I lean forward, invading his space and reach for the cup. I put one hand on his thigh which causes him to still his movements. He lowers the glass and looks back at me. I flex my hand and remove it.

“One small sip,” he instructs.

“What makes you so sure I’ll listen to you?”

“Nothing, but I hope you trust me enough to heed my warning.”

“I trust you…. I think,” I whisper taking the glass from his hand and sipping before I spit it out.

Peeta laughs and takes another sip. I stand up, wobbling slightly, Peeta gently grasping my arm as he stands up.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly.

The buzz is starting to fade. Maybe getting drunk was exactly what I needed because I would never be brave enough to say this sober.

“You always have,” I whisper. “Thank you for the bread.”

“Wait, from when we were kids,” he asks. I nod.

“Katniss, that was nothing. And I should have gone out- “

“Your mother beat you for it,” I interrupt.

“Katniss, it was fine. You were- “

“Peeta- “I try to stop him from saying more.

“No Katniss…” His voice fades as he continues to ramble about who knows what.

“Peeta,” I say but he just keeps going. I do the only thing I can think of to do as I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips. It does indeed shut him up.  When I pull back his eyes are wide open and he’s staring at me as if I’ve grown two heads. Of course, he would be horrified that a Seam girl just kissed him.

“I’m, uh- “I freeze.

“Well, shit,” he says and then licks his lips before smirking.

“I—I have to go find Madge,” I mumble before storming off. I find Delly and Rye and I’m horrified. I can’t face anyone who looks like Peeta right now.  I look into the crowd and I don’t see her face, but I do see her outfit…. and the back of Gale’s head. They are walking towards the Slag Heap. My jaw drops. I hear Peeta approaching.

“You okay?” he asks.

“My best friends are headed towards the slag heap? How could they?”

“I’m so sorry, Katniss. I, I know you’re with Gale—”

“What?” I interrupt.

“You and Gale, you favor each other.”

“No,” I say and shake my head.

“Oh…. Well, I thought—”

“You thought I was dating Gale even though I kissed you?”

“Well, drinking makes people do stupid things,” he offers.

“No, shit,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I begin to scan the crowd, looking for Thom.

“So, you’re okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I just don’t know why they didn’t tell me. I don’t know how it even happened. He’s always whining about her and her townie ass.” I don’t see Thom anywhere. He’s probably at the slag heap too. I groan.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks.

“I’m looking for Thom so I can walk home with him.”

“I can walk you home,” Peeta offers.

“Then I’ll just owe you more,” I point out exasperated.

“Can we stop with the whole owing thing, Katniss? We’re friends, we don’t worry about owing friends.”

“Friends? I’m not so good at friends.”

“Yeah, but I know your favorite color. That means we are on our way to best friends.”

This causes me to snort. “Don’t you want to stay at the party?”

“Party or walking a pretty girl home?” he says with a tilt to his head. “Definitely going with the pretty girl.”

“I’m not pretty,” I mutter.

“You have no idea the effect you can have, do you?”

There is a loose tendril of hair that has come out of my braid. Peeta reaches towards it before stopping. He’s asking me with is eyes for permission. He takes whatever it is that my face is saying as a yes before tucking it behind my ear.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, offering me his arm which I surprisingly find myself taking. We walk at a leisurely pace back to the Seam. We walk along in silence before I stop.

“Peeta?” I ask gazing at his face.

“Yes?”

I open my mouth not sure what to say so I just go with what comes to mind. “What’s your favorite thing to do on a Sunday?” Sundays are usually when the town businesses shut down early in the afternoon.

He grins, “You’re going for the really deep stuff now. You know there is no turning back now. We are definitely friends after this.” He waits for an answer and I nod.

We continue walking while he tells me about how he likes to draw on any spare sheet of paper he can get his hands on. He tells me about how he sketches the things around him. A loaf of bread, the apple tree, the pigs, the town square. His favorite though is a dandelion. We walk in silence, the weight of his words in the balance.

We reach my doorstep and stare at each other. The silence is becoming painful, and I have to know.

“Why a dandelion?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“You know why, Katniss.”

I nod. “I thought I’d lost all hope. That bread sustained me and my family until I realized I already knew a way to take care of my family…. That dandelion was hope…. And you lead me to it.” He doesn’t say anything. “Jeez, it must be open my mouth and embarrass myself day. Never mind, I’m drunk, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Are you really? Or has it worn off and you’re now lying about it?”

He searches my eyes, willing me to tell the truth. “I’m a little drunk, but I know exactly what I’m saying.” His gaze is making me vulnerable, and I hold my breath. Peeta steps closer. He’s in my space and my senses are overwhelmed. There are butterflies and heat in my stomach.

Peeta lifts my chin and leans down, his lips barely touching mine. “Will you allow it?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say, the word barely getting out before his lips are pressing against my mouth. I don’t know what I’m doing but Peeta does. He cradles my jaw before he gently moves his lips against mine. I grab his shoulders so that he will stay rooted to me. We kiss for a couple of minutes, our lips dancing together. He doesn’t try for more. He is the first to pull back.

“Good night, Katniss,” he whispers grabbing my hand to press a kiss to it. He turns around and walks towards town. I head inside and lean against the door. What the hell just happened?

When I wake the next morning, I have a major headache and am slightly nauseous, even more so when I think about that kiss. What the hell was I thinking?

I try to clear my head in the woods, I really do but I’m missing every single shot. This has never happened before. Damn you, Peeta Mellark. I decide to get more strawberries for Madge before heading into town. When I reach the meadow outside of the fence, I notice the dandelions and I begrudgingly pull them out.

Before I know it, I’m at the bakery and I glance in the window. I see Peeta, and no one else. This is stupid but my body is clearly not listening to my head since I’m setting the dandelions on the doorstep and knocking. At least my body works enough to run off behind the apple tree where I hope Peeta can’t see me.

He opens the door and looks around before he looks down. He bends to pick up the dandelions and a wide grin appears on his face. Shit…. I’m in trouble.

[starshine583]

could you do A for the soul mate thing with felinette?

(Sorry it took me so long to reply! I’m still trying to keep up with my schedule for the “New Girl on the Block” fic, but rest assured that I’m totally writing all of the requests for this when I can! The next one I’m going to be working on is V for Daminette. I hope you enjoy the snippet and thank you for the ask!!)

If someone had the choice between technical immortality and certain death, it should be safe to assume that that person would accept the former. Technical immortal was the only logical option, after all. No one wanted to die. And yet, people chose death everyday. In fact, they were obsessed with it, because certain death guaranteed one thing that immortality couldn’t: a soulmate. 

When a person turns eighteen, their aging process freezes due to some strange magic that scientists still can’t explain. From then on, that person will remain eighteen until they find their soulmate, specifically until they touch their soulmate directly with bare skin. Once their soulmate is found, they will begin aging as usual, as if they’d never become temporarily immortal in the first place. Some people speculate that this gives the two soulmates a chance to grow old together.

Felix, personally, believed that it gave him a chance to harbor an unlimited life span free of charge. Who needs a soulmate when you can explore all of the things in the world that are normally hindered by the aging process? There were too many things that he wanted to accomplish for him to worry about something as fickle as love or relationships. 

One of those things happened to be building up the fashion empire that he had inherited.

It was hard to gain the respect that he deserved at first considering his physical appearance made him seem like a child, but once people found out that he was in his late twenties, it made things much easier. Now, three years has passed since his accepting the role of acting CEO, and the company’s success rate has been steadily rising until their profits were through the roof. He’s quite proud of it, if he’s being honest.

Felix straightened the papers on his desk and set them to the side, catching the glimpse of his golden wrist watch as he did so. The little hand pointed towards one in the morning, telling him that he’d spent another late night at the office. He didn’t mind, though. These were the things that needed to be done for his company to excel.

However, he also needed sleep for the company to excel, and this seemed like a good stopping point if ever he saw one, so Felix stood from his rolling chair to begin gathering his things to leave. 

“Hey, Sir, are you up there?” A voice crackled across the intercom. Felix paused his preparations to smile at it. It was the unmistakable voice of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, his personal secretary for the last two years (and his close friend for the last year and a half). They always happened to work late on the same nights, didn’t they?

He pressed the glowing red button on the intercom. “You know I am. What do you need?”

“I’m working on another piece for a fashion show. I want your input.”

Felix chuckled. How many of her pieces had he given his input on now?

“I’ll be down there in a second.”

“You’re the best!”

Felix set his stuff back on the desk and moved towards the door to his office. He hesitated briefly when he spotted his black, leather gloves on the edge of his desk- he made a point to wear them constantly, along with a number of other pieces of clothing, so he could avoid direct skin contact with others. No sense in taking any chances -but decided to leave them alone for once. Marinette should be the only other person in the office, anyway. It wouldn’t make a difference.

He took an elevator down to the second floor, where most of his top designers worked, and walked over to the desk that had its lamp turned on. He’d know which desk was hers either way- could probably find it in his sleep at this point -but it was a nice give away.

Marinette was crouched on the floor when he got there, stabbing a needle into some material that was draped across a mannequin. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration, and her tongue was poking out of her lips as it always did when she was working hard. Felix held back a snort at the endearing sight and glanced around her desk while he waited for her to notice his presence. 

When she first joined his company, she was a budding fashion designer, someone who had been gaining a bit of fame for working with Gabriel Agreste, Jagged Stone, Aubrey Bourgeois, and many other note-worthy people. Apparently, she thought it was time to build a business of her own, and therefore, applied for the job as his personal secretary in an effort to gain experience on how a business should be run before actually starting anything. 

The notion admittedly impressed Felix. People rarely thought to find personal experience in running a business before actually starting one. They normally just took a class and hoped that it paid off. Someone with that kind of rational thinking was someone he knew he wanted in his company, though, so he agreed to hire her, even if she would still be working independently on personal commissions.

Now that two years had passed, she would probably be leaving any minute now to become her own boss. It might be in a week, or in a few months, perhaps even a year, but he found himself dreading it no matter how long she continued to work for him. He’d grown quite accustomed to having her in his life, be it getting lunch together or going over the morning schedule or giving each other advice on their work. The quiet moments they shared made work life a little more enjoyable and made those rare nights of loneliness from refusing a soulmate a little more tolerable too. 

“Oh, Felix!” 

Felix’s eyes dragged back down to Marinette, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

“When did you get down here?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “You know how it used to be one in the morning?”

Marinette tisked, picking up on his light-hearted tone. “Oh, whatever. If you don’t want to get stuck waiting then tell me when you get here. Now, come look at this and tell me what you think.”

She stood up and moved away from the mannequin, then gestured for Felix to step closer, which he gladly obliged to do. The outfit hanging on the mannequin was a dress that appeared to have several layers and a few frills. It seemed to be made out of silk on the inside, and on the inside was another material that had an antique, flower pattern. The way the materials were sown together, though, and the things she must have added to the flower pattern, didn’t  give off the impression of it being old or outdated. It was a mix between old and new that created a unique combination.

“I think it looks fine.” He said after studying it.

Marinette groaned. “Fine doesn’t help me, Felix. What does it strike you as? Stunning? Charming? Old-Fashioned? I know you have more descriptive terms than ‘fine’ in that word bank brain of yours.”

Felix laughed. “Work bank brain?”

“You know what I mean.”

He does.

“Alright, Alright.” He knelt down next to the outfit again. “Might I inquire about your purpose for this garment?”

“See, there are fancy words you use all the time.” She remarked teasingly, even though she often used the same words herself. “I’m trying to create a modern Victorian type of style for my next show.”

Felix hummed. “Can I see the sketches?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re right over here.”

The pair moved back to Marinette’s desk, and she sat down in her rolling chair to slide a paper towards him. Felix leaned towards Marinette, placing his palms on the desk for balance.

“So, if you look at- oh!” Marinette had just started explaining her original thoughts for the design, when their hands brushed against each other. She drew her hand back immediately, surprise reflecting in her bluebell eyes.

“You’re not wearing any gloves.”

“Ah.” Felix drew his hands back as well. “No, I’m not. I figured they were a waste of time tonight, since it’s only us here.”

“Oh..” Marinette said. “I don’t think I’ve ever touched your bare skin before.. N-not that I’m keeping track or anything! Wow, that sounded so weird-”

Felix, being used to her ramblings by now, only chuckled. “It’s alright. I don’t think we’ve ever touched like that either.”

In fact, he knew they hadn’t, because he does keep track of who he does and doesn’t touch with his bare skin. So far, he’s managed to maintain a low count of five or so, but he supposed adding one more to the list didn’t hurt.

“Anyway, I like the way it looks. The colors combine nicely, and I can certainly see where you’re coming from with the modern, yet old-fashioned design. I’m sure people will enjoy them, especially for costume parties.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Marinette smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. I’m actually on my way out the door, but don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else.”

“You know I won’t.”

Felix laughed and pushed himself off of the desk to begin making his way back to the elevator. “Make sure you leave soon too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.. Eventually.”

Felix threw her a playful glare over his shoulder. “I’m not kidding, Dupain-Cheng. If I see bags under those eyes tomorrow, you’re going to be fired until you get a proper night’s sleep.”

“Thank goodness for make-up then.” She joked back.

Felix rolled his eyes and bid her farewell as he entered the elevator, and her soft call of “Goodnight, Boss” managed to reach him right before the doors slid closed.

-

The next morning began as any other morning. Felix woke up to his blaring alarm clock, forced himself out of bed, and started the brew for his morning coffee. He then dragged himself over to the bathroom to get ready for the day, starting with his hair.

The mirror provided a picture of his sluggish figure as he combed his platinum blond locks to the side. His hair didn’t seem to care to cooperate that morning though, because his cowlick was refusing to lay aside as they were told. No matter how many times he combed over it, the chaotic locks refused to budge.

Felix huffed and leaned closer to the mirror, but before he could continue furiously coming his hair, something caught his attention.

At the front of his bangs, dangling loosely to the side of his face, was a single, grey hair.

Felix frowned, moving even closer to the mirror to get a better. It was definitely a grey hair, but why on earth would he have one? People at the age of eighteen didn’t get grey hairs, and he’d never gotten one before. The only reason he could possibly get a grey hair out of the blue like this was if-

Felix froze, his eyes blowing wide. No.. no, it couldn’t be. There’s no way he found his soulmate. It was impossible. The aging process only started when he touched them directly, skin to skin, and he’d been horribly precise not to do so with anyone under any circumstances. 

Well.. anyone except..

A knock came from the front door.

Although his mind was racing for answers, Felix pulled himself together enough to throw on a robe and go answer the door. 

Imagine his surprise when he found none other than Marinette standing right outside.

She looked up at him, her figure tense, and a certain anxiety painted her features. He wanted to ask what she was doing there, or why she hadn’t called to tell him that she was coming, but all he could do was stare. Perhaps it was because a part of him already knew why she’d come to visit him. She was the only person he’s touched directly in the last year, the only person who could have caused his hair to change.

Slowly, Marinette held up a strand of her hair. It was hard to make out, being a single strand, but Felix didn’t need to see it know it was grey too.

They stared at each other, both floored by the discovery, but then Felix almost had to laugh. Because of course it was her. Of course the person who he had come to know and adore and yearn to be around daily would be his soulmate. He should have known that soulmates would find each other eventually, whether they had “Soulmate Magic” to guide them or not.

Before he could say anything, Marinette let out a grieved sigh and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Felix, I.. I’m so sorry!”

For a moment, Felix stalled, and worry started to set in. She’s sorry? Why would she be sorry?

“What do you mean?”

Marinette looked up from her hands. “I know you didn’t want to find your soulmate and start aging. I should have noticed your ungloved and been more careful, but I just wasn’t thinking, and-”

Felix blinked as she continued rambling. This girl was apologizing to him because she accidentally found out that they were soulmates. She wasn’t thinking about how much she’d wanted to find her soulmate- because he knew that she did -or that she would have gone without a soulmate for the rest of her life had she not made the discovery. No, she was thinking about him and what he had wanted, just as she always did.

“Marinette.” He said, taking her by the shoulders. “Marinette, stop.”

The ravenette paused, glancing up at him with her beautiful, concerned eyes, and he felt himself smile. 

“If anyone had to be stuck as my soulmate.. I can’t express how delighted I am that it’s you.”

A wonderful blush tinted her cheeks. “R-Really? But I thought- what about being immortal?”

Felix chuckled, and he reached out to cup her cheek. “Immortality’s a small price to pay to have you.. if you’ll have me too, that is.”

Marinette exhaled, looking completely baffled, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Yes.” She breathed, a shining smile coming to her features. “Yes, of course I’ll have you.”

Felix couldn’t help grinning as well, and as he pressed another kiss to her lips, he wondered how it could have taken him so long to realize what the soulmate magic was really all about. It wasn’t a choice between immortality or death, but rather a choice between immortality and life. All of the things he’d been searching for- fame, fortune, glory -and the experiences he’d been chasing meant nothing without Marinette by his side. She was the one who made him feel truly alive, and he never wanted to live without her again.

(Send me a letter and I’ll write a thing!)