#why do her wings have to be like...That.....grumbles....i hate details

[kirbyliker12]

lalala

[kurosstuff]

Lute x fallen angel! Reader: Fallen

Short fic- tell me what you think! Hope you all enjoy it-!

Summary" lute SHOULD hate you. But. How can she?

HEAVY SPOILERS MENTIONED LIKE AKL OVER(in this like one?) IDK PLEASE. ALL HAZBIN FICS I WRITE ARENT SPOILER FREE UNLESS I STATE THAT IT IS. YOUVE BEEN WARNED

Warning(s): blood/fights, love at first sight, maybe ooc lute? Idk yoy tell me I never wrote her, heartbreak, also from my knowledge? Wing movements(from birds please correct me on the info if I do it wrong I do not own birds) in denial, Adam and his vulgur language

Ngl I love lute-

Lute a cruel sadistic woman. Odd place for a woman in heaven. But given her status as the leader of the executioners. The one who leads the battles against those vile sinners. Who trains the angels picked to fight herself. The woman second in command to Adam himself.

It's a fitting role.

Never in a million years(and she HAS been around for that long. Or so she lost track of such a useless thing) would she? A ruthless exterminator encounter this thing other fully pure angels speak of.

Love

Why would she? Lute is a fighter. A warrior. The one who Adam HIMSELF entrusts his life too. Why would she fall for anyone? She doesn't even know if she CAN feel such a thing.

But as always- Life(or afterlife?) Is full of surprises. She was well aware of a new angel coming in. Recently passed in some horrific accident she doesn't care for the details just knows- need to pick them apart see if their ruthless enough to fight. But the second she went into the room her eyes widden- an odd feeling in her chest as If her heart- her cold heart was heating up.

"Hello~ are you uh Lute?" You asked shyly- which given the situation even the most outgoing would be just as shy. She blinked, glad for the mask to hide the flushed expression - the confusion on it.

Clearing her throat, she nods slowly, ensuring you saw "I am. Welcome to Heaven, " she greeted uncharacteristically polite- gentle. If you were to be mistaken, she ignored the odd look Adam gave her, looking at the name tag, even your name is pretty- she blinked.

What?

She did NOT just think that. She did NOT Find you pretty. Gorgeous. She does NOT notice how your eyes sparkle how friendly your smile is as you both talked. She most certainly doesn't notice how your wings are the single most gorgeous pair she's ever seen. How white it is- signaling how pure you are. How the gold etched into it- putting to shame her grey and black wings- smiling soft behind her mask. How how she wishes to touch the- she stops she will NOT think that

-

It became as clear as day to her and anyone else. Lute? Is inlove. And not just anyone. The new angel- the kind soul who? Adam states follows her around like a lost puppy or in Adam's kind words "Hey look. It's lutes bitch!" Oh how she wishes to punch him everytime- hit that smug look off. But she won't. Not yet.

A common tradition in heaven- like the birds in the human realm(maybe a odd similarity she presumed. She doesn't care for the human realm after all) finding a mate, a lover with the most gorgeous wings. It was no surprise you gained such attention

Much to her displeasure.

Grumbling watching as how you yet again were surrounded by angels around you- and ad always rejecting them before that smile she oh so adored. Yet would never state aloud was sent her way- making her scowl darkly(but on the inside? She was warm) quickly making your way to her she noticed how you fidgeted. How red you were "out with it. What is it?" She grumbled out no matter how warm and soft she was on the inside? Her words on the outside could never match. No matter how she wished it

White cleared her vision making her back up scrunching her nose before finally realizing what it was- a feather. Not just any old feather. Your feather "i.. i want you to have it.. I know the meaning bur when I was preening my wings u couldn't help it.. I want you to have my feather" they whispered watching as she gently took the feather.

Silently accepting them courting her with a soft smile. Maybe she can make it a necklace?

-

As great as it was up there. There were rules. Easy to forget. Easy to break. But rules nonetheless. Once Adam instructed her to strip a betrayers wings, Lute sighed. Grumbling loudly going to the room. Ignoring the odd almost somber pitiful look Adam gave her. Hiding the feather in her shirt tucked safe near her heart, she hummed, stepping inside fixing her helmet before freezing

"No-"

Her heart dropped paling more then she was already at the bloodied sight

"NO WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

She roared storming to your bloodied frame she couldn't help but break her never-ending composure for the first time, kneeling to your side "do you HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS?" She snarled ripping her mask off showing her teary face. Knowing her counter was now a sinner. Her angel was a traitor. A million emotions went through her head glaring down at you with every emotion but the one she should feel.

It wasn't hate.

She ignored her feelings, swallowing it down she ignored the reasoning of what you did. Of what you SAID. putting her mask on, she steeled herself. She was an executioner. A peacemaker. She takes care of the issue. So she pushed you down with her foot grabbing your once gorgeous wings now bloodied gold- in her one hand grabbing her spear she sliced. Ignoring how she was covered in your blood. The deafening screams of pain. Of agony. How you begged for her. She took a sigh taking her mask off giving you the chance to se her one last time. Without the mask. How she stared cold at you.

Before the ground opened up, "lute. Before I go- please I lo-" she cut you off, kicking you in. Closing her eyes as the ground closed. For the first time ever. She fell to her knees, holding the now broken wings sobbing out for a sinner. How was she not a sinner to for showing the regret. Showing the selfishness in this?

~~

It wasn't long before she saw you again. Traveling down with Adam to meet with Charlie and her girlfriend- to Lute it was a vile relationship. Not because of the sex- no- because of the liar Vaggie is. How that bitch betrayed her kind and then fell for the ruler of hells daughter. She could almost laugh.

Blinking, ignoring the yelling match of Adam and Charlie. Looking out the window, she froze mouth wide open- even though the demons back was turned. No wings but a tail and horns. She knew that laugh. She knew that smell. No matter how different you looked. Eyes soft watching you turn. Even as a demon. You truly are a beautiful creature. She softened her gaze behind her mask before looking away in disgust. Not with you.

But herself.

Lute a angel? Finds a demon attractive. Sure it's you but. Your a demon. A angel and demon together is vile. Disgusting in all sense of the worse.

But even now. She can't help but still long for you. Long for the almost relationship. Frowning, she looked back at Adam, who watched her with a frown. She knew they'd have a talk. Sighing, she followed after him with a deep sigh

She truly wished this outcome was different. How she longs to see you once more. Touching the feather on her chest she sighs

The only way she would be with you. Is if she was fallen as well. What a cruel irony.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Johnny Cade fic

Sometimes, keeping secrets is necessary.

For all the gang is close, close as brothers- sometimes closer than that if Soda and Steve’s weird dynamic is anything to judge by- Johnny knows that some things are best kept between two people, three in some situations, or guarded closely to oneself when a secret is more shame than anything more. It’s why he and Dally patch each other up so often and leave the others out of it, Dally with his warlike ways and gritty survival, him with his stupid broken heart and the bruises it earns him. It’s easier he thinks, to keep that sort of sharing and vulnerability for two people instead of seven, just like it’s easier for Darry to only ever truly talk to Two-bit, and for Soda to haul Steve out for a drag race when he shows up on the Curtis’ front porch with cold eyes and yet another bloody lip. Not everyone needs to know everything. Some things are best kept between a few folks, and if those things are named secrets, well, so be it. It would do more harm than good for Darry to find out what Pony says when he’s ranting to Johnny, and Dal never needed to know half the things Johnny and Darry did to get him out of scrapes he never even realized he’d gotten himself into. 

Another thing Johnny knows about secrets: some are more important than others. Knowing the nickname Steve’s mom used to call him is a far less important secret than the real reason Dal left New York, but Johnny keeps any and every secret entrusted to him locked up tight behind layers of stubbornness that could rival Pony in even his most pigheaded moods. He learned a long time ago that loose lips sink ships- and he couldn’t live with himself if something he knew and let slip ever ended with one of the gang getting hurt. Hell, he can hardly stand to live with himself now.

“Stupid grease,” For a second Johnny thinks the insult is being tossed at him, but when he looks up the soc- some asshole with the dumbest fucking haircut Johnny’s ever seen- doesn’t appear to have even noticed he’s rounded the corner as he grumbles to the rest of his buddies all dressed in letterman jackets and combover hairdos, “can’t believe some greaseball kid thinks he can work with my girl.”

“Least the kid is smart,” a guy with a yellow madras shirt Johnny recognizes from his own C level english class says. Johnny had thought he was dumb as a post before he’d been sat next to the guy. Compared to goldie he was fucking Einstein himself, “I got stuck with Rosie. Dumb bitch wouldn't recognize her own face in a mirror.”

Look who’s talking, Johnny thinks, fully intending to keep minding his own business. Socs pissed off and planning to jump a greaser kid was nothing new in the halls of Tulsa high, and he wasn’t planning to stick around and find out which unlucky guy was gonna be the latest target of the football team. Maybe they’d be stupid enough to go after Curly Shepard again and get their asses handed to him. Johnny fucking hates Curly shepard, but even he has to admit the guy is a straight up beast in a fight. Real tuff.

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let some freshman grease named after a damn horse chat up my girl.” The soc with the ugly haircut sneers, “we’re gonna teach that kid a lesson. Lawson says the kid’s on the track team, so we’ll catch him when he’s done practice so the coach don’t go looking.”

The soc keeps talking, joking with his buddies, probably describing in vivid detail how he’s planning on beating up Johnny’s best friend- his thirteen year old best friend- into a pulp. Johnny can’t hear it anyway- not over the roaring in his ears.

Steve is cursing and fighting with his combination lock when Johnny finds him just outside the science wing, his carefully gelled hair a stark contrast to his grease stained t-shirt. For all the dark cloud of his mood is nearly visible, Johnny still can't help but feel bad for him. Soda had officially dropped out just over a month ago and Steve was still taking it mighty hard. He kind of understood- Steve didn’t have a ton of friends besides the gang, and with Evie skipping half the week and Soda working full time, Steve's social circle at school had shrunk to near zero. 

“We got a problem,” Johnny tells him without preamble, and there’s a grim determination in Steve’s eyes when he turns to him, nodding and following him down the hallway without a word. Besides his gruff but unflinching loyalty, one thing about Steve that Johnny appreciates is that, like him, Steve feels no need for meaningless pleasantries. 

As they stalk through the halls, no doubt looking like they mean business if the way socy girls and a few fresh men give them a wide berth is anything to judge by, Steve doesn’t ask questions, no doubt knowing that Johnny will explain everything as soon as they track down Two-bit. 

“Two,” Steve barks as soon as they spot him, flirting with a pretty blonde who’s rolling her eyes but moving closer to him just the same, “let’s go. We got a problem.”

He must be able to tell he’s serious because he gives the blonde a final leer and joins them immediately.

“What’s goin’ on? I’d nearly talked her into lettin’ me take her to the Dingo on Saturday.”

“There’ll be other girls for you to disappoint sexually,” Steve rolls his eyes, “but Johnny says we got a problem right now.”

He turns to Johnny expectantly.

“I overheard some socs earlier talkin’ ‘bout Ponyboy,” Johnny starts. Both older boy’s eyes darken, comprehension dawning. This isn’t the first time one of them overheard some soc planning to give Pony a good jumping and Johnny doubts it’ll be the last, just like he knows it won’t be the last time he, Steve, and Two will fight them off before they can so much as breathe wrong in pony’s direction. Of all the secrets he keeps Johnny thinks this might be the most important, and he thinks Two and Steve feel the same way. Darry and Soda worry about Pony enough as it is, they hardly need to be terrified about him getting beat up at school too; and Pony would never forgive them fighting his battles for him. Hell, if he ever found out he’d probably pick a fight with a soc on purpose just to prove he’s tough. He still don’t get it, that he’s tough enough already for all he likes his books and movies and stuff. Not many folks can go through what Pony’s gone through and not lose a piece of themselves that Pony has kept spectacularly, miraculously, intact.

 “Said they were plannin’ on jumpin’ him after track practice,” Johnny continues, “it was some guy with a dumb haircut, and that guy I sat with in english last year. Mark somethin’?”

“Bradshaw, I think,” Steve spits, “Sounds like him and Ian Cosegrove. They were in my history class last year, and they’d probably be in Pony’s english class now he’s been moved up. One of them has that real dumb haircut?”

“That’s them.”

Two bit cracks his knuckles,  “Let’s go.”

It’s not hard to track the socs down from where they’re hanging out on the hood of some flashy mustang Johnny wished he could steal. It also isn’t hard to beat the two of them to a pulp, and their buddy who joined in too, because for all they’re football player they aren’t greasers, and they aren’t filled with the sort of fiery rage that’s coursing through Johnny’s veins, and Two-bit and Steve’s too.

Sure, no one was allowed to mess with anyone in the gang, but that went double for Ponyboy. None of them would ever be right again if anything happened to the kid, and they all knew Darry probably couldn’t survive it. Hell, Soda couldn’t either, 

Later that day, after Steve has waited around an hour to drive he and Ponyboy home just in case, Johnny hides his swollen knuckles in his jacket pockets and tucks this latest fight close to his chest, another secret best kept to himself.

He’d never have it any other way. Steve and Two wouldn’t either. The Curtis’ looked out for them all- it was only right they return the favour whenever and however they could.

Johnny listens to Pony and Steve argue, watches Two light up a cigarette, and smiles.

It’s no secret it’s tough sometimes to be a grease. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[beautifulpersonpeach]

LMAO BPP All the PJM and JJK pages are obsessed with Tae's collaboration with Min Heejin. The theories I've seen just today??? 🤣🤣😭 You're so right on how you said the fandom implosion will go. The maknae line debuts will break all the pretenses open for the fandom to implode like you said. It's hilarious to see most people in Army fandom showing their asses.

*

Ask 2:

Hi BPP, Tae is working on his album under the production and creative fdirection of Ador´s CEO Min Heejin. I must confess that I dont know anything about her. Do you have any insights or opinions on why would Tea seek out her in particular. Also there were some controversies with this lady, if I am not mistaken, but I dont know the details. Would you please share your opinions with us if you have any?

thanks and have a nice day

*

Ask 3:

BPP!!! So apparently Min Heejin worked with Tae on his album!!! What I know of her is just basically her work with New Jeans so I have no idea what to expect about Tae’s solo debut now 😭

***

Hi Anon(s),

Chapter 2 is such a wonderful time, isn't it? It's lovely seeing the members flex their wings and influence a little bit, to see more of the colours and shadows of themselves they've been showing fans for the last 10 years. It's also been amusing to see all the people who were not paying attention, start to wake up. I've seen various posts about how some people feel this member changed or that member now looks different to them because of this/that interview, and I chuckle not even gonna lie.

The boys were always this competitive, always this ambitious, always this arrogant with a strong sense of pride, and all with massive egos swinging between the seven of them. Like, do people actually forget BTS are Korean men? They tone it down every now and then, and some members are more subtle about it than others, but they've always been like this, and if you believed otherwise then good morning. How would you like your coffee?

Of course it doesn't mean they don't highly value the team and fans, it's never meant that, but the love for their team (which I think is mostly genuine and pragmatically still very useful to them) is impressive to me when you remember the sort of partnership they have with each other in BTS is unnatural. We all know that. There's a reason there's no other group that has had their trajectory before, it's why there's no group like them - then and now, because many things about BTS as a group is frankly unnatural and go against every conventional thought of how a band should evolve. And everybody knows that, especially BTS themselves, which is why I strongly respect their aim to balance their very palpable ambitions and potential, with that of the team. However they choose to do that is their business, in my opinion. The company has its own agenda possibly, but they're all grown men more aware of the options at their disposal for their unique situations than anyone this side of the internet. It's bizarre for me to open my jikook Tumblr and see fans treat the people I consider to be the most intelligent in the group, as the most helpless in their situations within the company.

Anyway, hopefully anybody previously stuck under a false impression of the members, now that we're finally getting to Tae in the release schedule, I hope everyone is now well and fully aware of who the men in BTS are, and what the group as a whole represents. Like I've said before, nearly everything about them is directly up my alley so I'm a fan. Please be honest with yourself on if it's not, and if not, it's very okay to stop keeping up with BTS. In fact I strongly suggest you try out other groups that could be more to your liking, or take a tolerance break from everything k-pop altogether. That would be for the best.

The only way this implosion will actually be helpful for the group and fandom, is if all the people grumbling and hating the members now actually left the fandom. If all the apparently 'disillusioned' fans actually left, we'd be in much better shape by 2025. But because this is k-pop, they won't. And that is precisely what makes this implosion feel so messy.

*

About Min Heejin working with Tae, I'm excited!

Until that announcement, I didn't care one way or the other about Tae's solo debut. I mean, I was curious, but my taste in music is more the rapline and jikook to some degree. Tae and Jin for me are sometimes a hit but more of a miss usually, so I was prepared to support but only the baseline I typically do. Hearing that Min Heejin is involved however, makes me actually look forward to his album.

I won't rehash what I've said about Min Heejin before, Anons. You can read my previous posts on her by searching her name or 'NewJeans' on my blog. Personally, I don't care about the allegations against her just as I don't care about the allegations for all the Big3 CEOs/producers, and because if one actually cares to dig into the meat of the allegations against MHJ, many of them don't hold up under any scrutiny.

Anyway, reports say Tae reached out to Min Heejin in late 2022 to help with his solo debut project. That was really smart of Tae to do because Min Heejin is a brilliant artist. I'd say she's a couple of years ahead of an artist like Cho Gi-Seok, another brilliant Korean creative and the mind behind XG's latest concept execution and MVs along with Simon. If she works with Shin Woo-seok for Tae's MVs - the award-winning director she's worked with on many of NewJeans' MVs - then I expect nothing short of excellence.

In terms of music compatibility, Min Heejin has a good feel for descending microtonal music. The sort of music most people associate with jazz chords and R&B. So given Tae's music tastes, I'm very curious to see the direction his album will take under her supervision. I honestly have no idea how it's going to sound.

On promotions, like I've said before, unless Tae does a full English release like JK, he likely won't be getting the same toolbox, but he should see more support than previous releases. If Ador solely handles his promotions, then I can expect to see Tae have similar promotions to NewJeans. Which would be fantastic!

Tae has very interesting taste in music. He seems to like a lot of classic pop, contemporary pop, and hiphop. His voice and range allows him to excel in any of these genres, and despite how it seems online most people are fine with how he enunciates words in Korean. But I do hope he sticks to Korean or at least that there's dramatic improvement in his English pronunciations if there's a lot of English tracks.

We'll see.

Besides Tae though, I'm nearly desperate for new music from Namjoon and Jimin. I need it. Even my assistant at work (who I've somehow turned into a Jimin bias from streaming Serendipity, Alone, and Like Crazy-centered playlists at the office), asked me if Jimin has any new music out, as recently as last Wednesday. The people want more music. So, as excited as I am for Tae, I hope we get something minimoni before long as well.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: chapter twelve

i recommend reading these first. thanks again to @romeoandjulietyouwish for just being rad and cool and great.

also, in case you missed it, i wrote a sexy one-shot that takes place before the start of mfl and is separate from the plot so you can read it whenever if you want to!

Syngorn, like the Ashari Nation, is more skeptical of arcane magics than their divine counterparts, which is why the citadel explodes into a flurry of activity when Lady Allura pops into existence in the middle of the grand foyer with a small posse in tow. The group is immediately surrounded by shouting Syngornian guards, who retrieve Percy from his chambers to verify the sudden arrivals' identities and vouch for their trustworthiness.

Allura smiles sheepishly at him when he arrives. "My apologies, Percival, but it seemed time was of the essence."

Percy sketches a bow to her and the others. "Not to worry. We're all...understandably on edge." He makes his own apologies to their Syngornian hosts before leading the way up to the Ashari wing of the citadel. "Security has been heightened, of course, after the attack, and the Ashari and Draconian delegations are being kept apart while the matter is being investigated. We are to remain in our designated wing unless our presence is requested elsewhere."

"Great," Lady Kima grumbles. "I love being cooped up."

"Is there still need for healing?" Pike asks, jogging to keep up with everyone. "I'd be happy to help where I can."

Percy smiles down at his old friend. "I think the sovereign has a particular duty in mind for you, Pike."

There's a half-elven man in the group that Percy doesn't recognize. He asks, "I was informed I'd be assigned to the princess's detail. Am I to go to her now?"

"This is Derrig," Kima explains, "one of our best fighters. Now that the war is over—or not, but you know what I mean—I figured we could spare him for the increased security the sovereign requested."

Percy nods. "Wonderful." He turns into the hall that houses the sovereign's quarters. "You'll meet with the sovereign first, Derrig, to get your orders. Then I can take you to where the princess is staying."

The guards outside the sovereign's chambers recognize Percy as he arrives and open the doors for the newcomers to enter. As they do, Percy grabs the last one's wrist and pulls her behind, ducking into a small alcove away from prying eyes. "Vex'ahlia."

"Percy." She throws her arms around him, pulling him tight. His arms snake around her waist, and for the first time in days, he feels his muscles relax. "Thank the gods you're alright."

He presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm so very glad you weren't here."

"Sounds like I missed a hell of a party." She pulls back and lays a hand on his face. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I am well and fine, Vex'ahlia, I promise."

"And my brother? How has he fared?"

Percy hesitates. "He was uninjured in the attack. He is with the princess now." Her face darkens, and Percy continues, "Be easy on him. They have both had quite a trying few days."

Vex sighs but nods all the same. "I best go in and speak to the sovereign." She turns as if to leave the alcove, but then turns back, grabs Percy by the face, and kisses him breathless. His brain freezes, shorted by the suddenness, but just as quickly as it started, the kiss is over, and Vex is gone, sauntering back toward the sovereign's chambers, and Percy is left stunned, not for the first time, by this whirlwind of a woman.

.

There's a knock at the door, and Keyleth flinches. She hates this, the lingering tension in the air after yesterday's assault on the citadel. She closes the book she'd been reading on a little window seat and watches Vax creak the door open. "Who—Pickle?"

"Hey, Vax!"

"Pike?" Keyleth stands as Pike pushes in past Vax, an unfamiliar man edging in just behind her. Pike starts to bow, but Keyleth sweeps her up in a hug. "You're here!"

Pike laughs. "Of course I'm here!" When Keyleth sets her back down, she turns to give Vax a punch on the arm. "Seems like you've earned your paycheck this week, friend."

"I'm trying." Vax hasn't taken his eyes off the half-elf now in the room with them.

"Princess Keyleth, this is Derrig." Pike gestures back at the man, who bows low. "The sovereign has assigned him to your protection detail."

Keyleth can practically see Vax's hackles raise. "It's very nice to meet you, Derrig. Your name is familiar; you fought with the Blades, is that right?"

"Yes, Your Highness." His tone is calm and confident. "It is an honor to be chosen by the sovereign for such an important assignment." He turns to look at Vax, who is still inspecting him skeptically. "I understand that we are to be working together?"

Vax nods. "The sovereign has instructed me to not leave the princess's side for any reason, which...limits what I can see and hear outside these chambers. That's where you come in."

"Fair enough."

Pike turns to Derrig. "Well, you've been introduced, but I've got business with the princess, so, um, get out."

Keyleth blinks in surprise at Pike's abruptness, but Derrig doesn't seem to mind it. He bows again and leaves the room. Vax places himself just beside the closed door, standing sentry. Suddenly nervous about what business Pike needs to discuss, Keyleth wishes he could come hold her other hand, ground her and her butterfly heart to the earth, but amidst the chaos of the past twenty-four hours, she hasn't forgotten their conversation in the woods.

"So." Pike settles herself on a settee in the middle of the room. "The sovereign tells me you've been doing some magic."

Keyleth's heart stops. She's not stupid, of course. She knows that whatever...display she put on yesterday in her rage and pain was seen by countless people of all three nations present. Of course her father would want Pike, the Mistress of Divinity, to poke and prod at her, to see exactly what manner of mystical energy she wields, before calling upon the oft-maligned Mistress of Arcana for her opinion.

"Yes," she whispers, looking down at her hands. "I..."

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Keyleth looks up, and Pike's smile is warm and soft.

Keyleth walks over to a candelabra and extends her hand over one of the flames. She concentrates, and the flame dims to the tiniest pinprick. A moment later, it flares out, nearly engulfing the candle. Another beat, and it's back to normal. "This was the extent of my abilities until a few days ago, when we were attacked on the road. Vax was injured, and I was able to heal what very likely would have been a fatal wound in a way much like I've seen our divine healers do.

"And then yesterday…" She trails off. She doesn't know how to describe what happened. In the light of day, the entire ordeal seems apocryphal, as if she perhaps had a dream that felt too real upon waking. She looks to Vax for help.

"You called lightning from above," he supplies, his voice low and even, "pulled bolts of it from the ceiling as though you were the Stormlord himself. And…and your hands were on fire, though the skin did not burn."

Pike takes all of this in with an expressionless face, and Keyleth wants to shake her so that all of her thoughts spill out. She sits in silence for a minute before saying slowly, "Well...that's...incredible, Keyleth."

Incredible? Keyleth has spent her day in quiet turmoil, turning those bolts of lightning over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of the low thrum of energy she can feel even now, a vibration just beneath her skin that she doesn't know she can control. This isn't incredible—this is terrifying.

She doesn't say this. Instead, she asks, "Can you sense the source of this...power? You know me, Pike, I've never been the most...devout or faithful. I have a hard time believing that a god has granted me abilities in the same way Sarenrae blessed you."

Pike hops off the settee and pads over to her. "Give me your hand." Keyleth offers it, and Pike wraps it up in both of hers, her two small hands not quite fully encompassing all of Keyleth's. She closes her eyes, and Keyleth holds her breath. After a few seconds, a warm, soft yellow light emanates from between Pike's palms. It envelopes Keyleth's hand, and it feels as though she's just thrust her hand into a sunbeam after having bathed it in ice. Keyleth looks up at Vax, and he looks back at her with the same perplexed expression she is sure she wears on her own face.

Whatever this ritual is, it's over in less than a minute. The light begins to ebb away, and Pike's eyes flutter open. "Huh."

Keyleth could scream. "What...have you found?"

"Well, it's not arcane, your magic." Keyleth feels her bones turn to gelatin. "But...it's not quite divine either? I suppose, if I had to guess, it's closer to the divine than it is to the arcane, if you were to place them on either end of a spectrum, which, until now, I've never thought to do. The Everlight wasn't the most helpful with the answers, unfortunately, but such is the nature of gods." She pats Keyleth's hand once before releasing. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Keyleth falls back against the poster of her bed. "You're sure?"

"I may not have all the answers, but I do not sense anything evil or sinister in your magic. It's more...neutral. Like nature, I suppose? My magic was given to me with the intent to do good, and if I were to use it to do evil, it would be a perversion of that magic. Your magic, on the other hand, feels...freer. Like you could use it to good, or to do evil, or to do things that don't have much of a moral coding at all, and all of that would be within the intent of the gift."

She's still not quite sure what to make of that, but it's at least better than the worst-case scenarios she's been concocting for herself since she's had a moment to think. "Thank you, Pike, for your insight and counsel. Truly, it means the world."

"Of course, Keyleth. Now, I have to go talk to some dead people." Without any further explanation, she gives a little half-bow before marching past Vax out of the room.

Keyleth collapses on the settee, burying her face in her hands. The tears come swift and hot, tears of relief, of gratitude, of exhaustion, of fear. This has been the longest few days of her life, and to have this one source of anxiety eased even just a bit makes her feel as though she is no longer tethered to the ground.

And yet. And yet. And yet she cries alone, no body beside her, no arm around her shoulder. She can feel him across the room, even without seeing him, and she knows why he can't come to her. They have to be better, both of them do, and so she cries alone.

.

Every muscle in Vax's body is tense. It is only by the strongest of willpower that he is able to stay rooted to his station by the door as Keyleth bursts into tears before him. His instinct is to go to her, as natural as the tide comes in to shore, but he has to be better, has to remember the ears just on the other side of this door. When he held her yesterday, when he brushed her hair and plaited it down her back in the way his mother taught him, this was a mistake. She deserves better, his sister deserves better, and he will be better, for them both.

And yet. And yet. And yet she cries alone, when she is already so alone, already kept tucked away from the easiest joys life has to offer. And what is the point of him, if not to fill her life with joy, if not to ease her suffering, if not to love her the way the flower loves the sun? The point of him, of course, is to keep her alive, to shepherd her to her great destiny, a destiny far beyond the reaches of a bastard child-turned-spy who has traded in his days in the sun for a lifetime of shadows. The point of him is to love her from afar, he supposes, and so she cries alone.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 21 Chains

Summary: The day that Avery Hawke found a chained dragon deep in a dungeon was a day that would change her life forever. Maybe she should stop picking up cool rocks...

---

Nothing like a dungeon to make Avery Hawke glad she could see in the dark.

Now, some may argue that a house wasn’t a dungeon, and they would be right. However, when the house on the coast had a cellar that went into an underground series of caves, then she was going to say it was a fucking cave.

And since she had the sword and shield, what she said stood.

They were there to find some lord’s sword that had been lost in one age or another. Honestly, she hadn’t been paying attention. She didn’t need to know the age or how it was lost – just that it was a sword, it was lost, here’s where it might be, and this was what she was going to be paid.

Avery was a simple woman that way. She left the details to those who cared about them.

“How deep does this damn thing go?”

Varric was grumbling next to her – he hated caves. Well, he hated everything that had to do with nature. It was part of his dwarven nature, or so he said. Really, he was a nerd who would’ve preferred staying in the Hanged Man and avoiding his editor, but that was a story for another day. In a way, she was doing him a favor by getting him into the fresh air and sunshine.

“It’s starting to level out.” Moses had his hand to the wall because unlike his favorite older sister, he was human and couldn’t see in the dark. “We should see the bottom soon.”

Avery didn’t need him to tell her that – she could hear it. The dripping was getting louder and louder, indicating they were getting close to a big room. How big, she wasn’t sure, but it was big enough to echo.

Electricity ran across her skin as she glanced over at Fenris. “You ready for a fight?”

Her lover – well, shared lover – had his hand by his sword. “If need be. But I believe we took care of the mercenaries up top. There may be none here.”

Maybe… but she could go for another round. She was itching for a fight thanks to the fact she had gotten kicked in the stomach. The reaver urges were burning bright, and she had nothing to use it on. It was like fire under her skin, making her twitch.

She needed something to sink her teeth into – animal, human, she’d bite a fucking rock if she had to in order to work the energy out.

The floor stopped sloping though, and the room opened up to a large cavern. Water dripped from stalactites and low torches burned around the room to provide faint sources of light. There were burnt bodies in a ring on the perimeter, covered in twisted, melted metal as if it had melted while they held it.

“What the-“

Avery’s eyes focused in the dark to the center of the room. There, chained to a platform, was a dragon. Was, because it was clearly dead. It hadn’t started decaying yet, but it wasn’t moving, and the number of spears and arrows sticking out of it was proof it was no longer with them.

At least it had gone down fighting – it had a qunari between its arms, head bitten off and front clawed to hell.

“Maker, who the hell could chain up a dragon?” Varric’s voice was barely above a whisper as he made out the details. “And why did the qunari want it?”

Fenris carefully edged forward to examine it. “Some qunari believe they can be controlled. They may have heard about this one and attempted it to ill effect. It had enough fight in it to put them down.”

That it did. Really, it was a magnificent beast, all obsidian black scales and dark purple wings. It was small though – probably not full grown. She had to wonder if it had ever made it outside to try those wings. Something about it made her stomach shift as she grit her teeth.

A dragon shouldn’t be chained. It should’ve been free.

“Well, we better look to see if the sword is here.” Moses stepped forward, the end of his staff glowing. “Spread out and look.”

Avery nodded as she headed towards the dragon. “I’ll check around the body. It might have been guarding it.”

The group broke after that, searching around the room for what they had come there for. Avery wound up in front of the corpse, poking around and hoping it hadn’t landed on the damn thing before it had died.

If it had, they were going to have to wait until it was bones… and that was a long time to wait for payment.

Her chest still went tight as she pressed her hand to the creature’s side. “I’m… sorry you had to go through this. It wasn’t right.”

It was her reaver side, no doubt, that made her heart call out to the poor thing.  Though, that didn’t stop her poking around the corpse to see if she could find the sword. She still had a job to do, after all.

A job she was failing at – no sword. Just a bunch of corpses, a few broken weapons, a couple loose scales…

And a really neat rock.

Avery blinked as she stopped walking. The dragon was on its side, and its tail was curled around something in death. Gently, she nudged the tail aside, revealing what it had been hiding. There were a number of rocks there, about the size of a small shield. Two of them were broken, leaking dark goo, but one was whole.

“Huh… that’s neat.” Avery reached out, one finger brushing against the surface. Thunder struck as a deep sound reverberated in her ears in a strange, quick pattern that her heart sped up to match.

She fell back hard, groaning as her bony ass hit the ground. As soon as she broke contact, the sound stopped. Yet, she could see in the dark that the surface was shimmering a little, as if her touching it had activated it.

“What the fuck?” Avery, never one for being sensible, reached out to touch the rock again. Just as she thought, the rhythmic pattern returned. It wasn’t like she was hearing it – instead, she was sure she felt it.

It felt… kind of like a heartbeat.

“Avery, are you alright?”

Fenris voice drew her away from her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder – he had the sword in his arms and concern written all over his face. No doubt it was because she had landed so hard, but it was kind of his job to be worried when his girlfriend did something stupid.

She stood, glancing back to the rock. “I found this weird pulsating rock… thing. It’s neat.”

That made Fenris cock an eyebrow as he approached. “A weird… pulsating rock?”

Avery nodded as she pointed. “Yeah, it’s between the tail and body. Every time I touch it, it starts pulsing. What do you think it is?”

It wasn’t a bomb – she would be dead by now – but that was as far as she got. Magic wasn’t exactly her domain, so if it was mage-made she was in the dark. All she could hope was that they could pick it up and bring it home.

Fenris reached out carefully, laying his hand on the sword. He held it there for a second, face quizzical, before he pulled it back. He then stood back, shaking his head as he gave her a confused look.

“I felt no pulsating.”

“You didn’t?” Avery frowned as she reached out again. As if on cue, the sensation started anew. “It’s doing it right now!”

That just got her another confused look. “Are you sure you were not injured during the fight?”

No, she knew what a concussion felt like… this wasn’t it. What it happened to be was frustrating, especially because he didn’t seem to feel it. She would’ve said it was the armor, but she was wearing gloves.

Go fucking figure…

“Well, I’m taking it with me.” She grunted as she pulled it away from the goo, almost stumbling back. “Maker’s scrote, it’s heavy! Must be full of that goo!”

The sensation was still there, annoying as ever, but it settled in as she fit it into her pack. At least it was insulated by the material and allowed her to carry it without feeling off. Better yet, since they had found the sword they were going to get paid.

She liked getting paid… almost as much as she liked a mystery trinket.

---

That night, Avery found herself unable to sleep once again. So, what better time was there to experiment with her new toy?

“Alright, let’s see what you are.”

She hefted the egg onto the table in her workroom, grunting from effort. Under the torchlight, she could see it was the same black color as the dragon with some inclusions of dark purple. Obsidian, maybe, or something with amethyst?

“Definitely not a natural gem… maybe it’s made by the dwarves to hold something?” She grabbed a hammer from her tool chest and glanced over the surface. “Let’s see how hard you are.”

Avery tapped lightly and instantly regretted it. A soundless ring of energy shook the room, making her vision go blurry. She dropped the hammer, holding her head and grimacing as pain beat behind her eyes.

“Ok, ok, sorry! I won’t do that again!”

Why she was apologizing to a rock, she didn’t know, but it worked. The pain stopped, and she could see clearly again. Her hammer hadn’t left a mark, so she hadn’t damaged it at the very least.

So… hitting it was a bad idea.

“Alright, so you don’t like being hit.” Avery frowned as she rubbed her hand on the surface. Before, it had been hot to the touch, but now it was starting to cool. “And… you’re getting kind of cold actually…”

She had a small forge in the room for more complex metal work. Something about the cool rock made her think shoving it in there was a good idea. Maybe if it melted she could figure out what was inside it?

It took some time to get the forge hot, but soon it was blazing and sweat was dripping down her forehead. Avery wiped it with the back of her hand, then glanced back to her specimen. Carrying it over was going to be a pain…

But she did it. She felt like she had to.

Soon, the rock was nestled amid the flames, almost glowing under the heat. Avery stood there, watching as it glittered in the fire. She wasn’t sure why she was watching – it would be bad if it shattered, maybe?

Weird that it wasn’t glowing hot, though… was it not hot enough?

“This is stupid, I’m heating up a rock and expecting something…” Avery shook her head. “I must be tired…”

She trailed off at the sound of cracking. Her sharp eyes realized a crack was slowly beginning to form down the center, glowing red. Cracking was never good – it meant explosions. She wasn’t going to risk pulling it out and getting cut, so she did the only thing she could.

Time to hit the deck and roll for cover.

Just as Avery found a safe place to shield herself, the cracking sound grew louder. Then came the sound of it splitting – half fell out of the forge and lay smoking on the ground. The other half was in the forge still…

And there was a bubbling sound.

“What the hell?”

Avery grabbed a shield she had been working on and approached the flames in case it spit or cracked at her. At first, all she saw was the fire and the other half of the rock, glowing in the heat. It looked normal.

Then she saw the… thing… sitting on the top of the forge.

It… was a little thing, jet black and shiny as if it was wet. It was shaking off, sending the goo in a circle around it. Then it stretched out its arms – no, wings, it had wings – and opened its tiny mouth to show sharp needle teeth.

Two eyes peered at her, bright purple, and it let out a squeaking noise.

“… It was an egg.” Avery’s voice came out flat as she got a little closer. “The dragon had a nest… you’re its baby.”

She had a baby dragon in her workroom.

The little dragon’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. It fluttered its little wings and let out a peeping sound, as if it wanted her to come closer. No doubt it wanted to bite her – it was no doubt hungry – but she found herself drawing closer, hand outstretched.

“Please don’t bite me, I’d really appreciate it…”

Her hand found the top of the dragon’s head. In that moment, a soundless grinding of metal rang out and everything grew red hot. Avery fell back hard on the floor, groaning as her vision spun and the world made no sense.

Then the dragon landed on her stomach.

“Oww…” she glanced up. “I guess I should’ve clarified don’t do any weird shit, huh. You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

The dragon cocked its head, as if it understood her to some degree. Then its little head reached out, bumping under her chin. It crawled up, nestling itself on her chest with its head under hers, breathing slowly.

It… was taking a nap on her.

“Really, you just hatched and you’re already tired?” Avery chuckled softly as she reached out to pat it on the head. It was softer than she expected… almost squishy, honestly. “Guess I’m going to call you Squishy then, you’ve got some hardening up to do.”

Squishy didn’t respond because it was fast asleep. Moving was out of the question for the moment – it was rude to wake a baby. No doubt in the morning she was going to have to figure out what the hell she was going to have to do with it.

What did dragons eat anyway? Templars? She could probably find one…

“We’ll try a bunch of meat tomorrow, see what you like. You’re not allowed to eat Chewy or Dog, got it?” She paused. “Or any of Anders’ cats… or the dwarves… or anyone in the house ,ok? My friends are off limits when you get bigger.”

Laying ground rules was important, right?

She would worry about it in the morning. Right then, Avery was content to pat Squishy and watch the little dragon sleep peacefully on her chest. No doubt her back was going to kill her when it was all over, but she didn’t mind.

Weird, she had never wanted to be a parent… now she had a baby dragon to worry about. Life was weird sometimes.

[ariesborn]

CH.12

« If anything comes to mind, don't hesitate to contact us. » « I know how this works, » Kyoko grumbled.

Hawks sighed. He suspected that the attack had been fatal to the young policewoman's morale, but it hadn't helped her character, which was not at all inclined to cooperation. The winged hero then glanced at his companion: his spitting image in younger form... His son, Haru. He resembled him in every way except that he looked a little more serious at the same age. The latter seemed to have lost nothing from the exchange and a thousand ideas were already brewing in his head, Hawks could see that. He smiled a somewhat proud smile, just enough to avoid being noticed and to break his professional image.

« It was clearly a warning. Your family has been placed under police protection. If this group ever tries to attack them, we will be the first to act, » Hawks assured. « They don't know my sister...» Kyoko muttered with a smile.

This time it was Haru's turn to smirk.

« And let's hope they don't know her. Anyway, give us a call if anything comes up. Get well soon, Miharu-san.»

Kyoko exchanged a glance with Haru for a moment. They seemed to understand each other but didn't go into details, at least not verbally. The meeting was over and the Takami were about to spread their wings, heading for the upstairs balcony when Heisuke and Shin walked up to Kyoko's room. Shin gritted his teeth. Hawks was already high in the sky, his red wings carrying him when Icarus stopped short of the boy.

« I- » Shin began. « Haven't we met somewhere before?! » exclaimed Haru, his avian eyes looking curiously yet harshly at Shin. « I-... it depends! If it's between 7 p.m. and 2 a.m. .... Trade with my lawyer. Oh, here he comes now! Oh Kaji-san! »

And so, like a cat and a dog looking at each other, Kaji and Haru seemed to hate each other. No words were exchanged. It was as if the sun met the moon. Icarus looked at the young Shin one last time and spread his golden wings, one of them made of metal. He rose into the air and disappeared into the night. Heisuke and Shin, who had been holding their breaths until now, were finally able to release the pressure.

« Was it just me, or was there some kind of tension? » muttered Shin, livid. « What did you do to Icarus now, you moron? » asked Heisuke, white as a ghost. « Nothing, I swear! You don't forget something like that. » « Hey. You idiots, » Kaji's firm voice thundered.

The idiots in question straightened up at attention, as if in the army.

« Yes! » « Kyo asks to see you... If you tire her out I'll kick your ass, is that clear? »

The two boys seemed to hesitate for a moment, but after exchanging a glance, they decided to move towards Kyoko's room. Heisuke felt his stomach twist. Miharu-san was in a bad shape. Even without using her quirk much, he knew that she was a real force of nature, it was showing in her look, in her way of behaving with them. Something inside him broke, his heart perhaps, at the thought of seeing someone so strong having come so close to death.

Kyoto smirked as she watched the two young men freeze.

« Are you going to stand there like two idiots for long? Sit down, I'm not going to bite you, » Kyoko ordered firmly but gently.

They complied without further ado, but they remained as straight as spikes. Kaji stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest as if waiting for something.

« Boys, why the long face? I'm not dead. It takes a lot more to beat me."

The words did not reassure Heisuke and Shin. Both of them clenched their fists on their knees, as if to endure the situation. Kyoko and Kaji did not have time to look at each other for long. They knew that something was wrong.

"Miharu-san," began Heisuke. "If you had died that night, all our efforts to integrate U.A. would have been like a sacrifice. You took the time with Kaji-san to raise us up when no one wanted to hear about a bastard son of a villain. To die now… It's frustrating just to think about it. You haven't seen anything yet!"

This time, Heisuke's voice grew louder. He looked at Kyoko with eyes full of determination.

"Don't die before you see us at the top. Please!"

And in an almost synchronized gesture, Shin and Heisuke lowered their heads further into a formal, respectful request. Kyoko blinked in surprise, mouth agape. Kaji hid a smile and turned her head away slightly. Those kids had managed to nail Kyo's beak! he thought.

© Kaji & Icarus are @dabiboy’s characters

[hispipsqueak]

Burned

Enji Todoroki x F!Reader - NSFW

A/N: So @cozykozume​ wanted me to name this “Cooling Down the Fire Daddy” so there’s that. Anyways, in case you didn’t know, I LOVE Enji Todoroki....like an extraordinary amount. Which is hilarious, because I started the series hating him but I digress. So here’s one of my favorite things I’ve written and also one of the longest posts because I just...I am just so soft for this man. <3 Pip

WC: 4.5K

TW: unprotected sex, feelings, slight size kink, oral (f receiving), drunk sex, slight angst if you squint, slight authority kink (good girl etc.)

H/N = Hero Name

When you stepped into the meeting that morning you weren't sure what to expect.

"Welcome back!" Midnight's cheery voice cut through the air, her eyes bright. You smiled at her as the rest of your colleagues responded with a variation of greetings and welcome's. You had been on a six month long mission across the globe and arrived back yesterday. Though you were slightly jetlagged, you were ready to throw yourself back in the grind of hero work.

As you took your seat your eyes roamed to the largest figure in the room. Endeavor had stayed silent, his eyes trained on the brief documents in front of him. Hell, you weren't even sure if he had noticed you had returned. Your heart sank slightly.

What did you expect? It had been six months, six long, confusing months since that night of booze and desire. Six months since you had felt his large hands wrapped around your body, his lips pressed against your neck hungrily as you grinded against him.

Fuck. You cut another glance at him. His eyes were narrowed as he read over the papers in front of him and his face was in it's permanent scowl. If he noticed you at all, he was doing a good job hiding it. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Hawks swaggering in the room. 

"Hey h/n! Long time, no see! How was the mission?" He called out, pulling you into a friendly hug. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Enji shift. 

"Great. Managed to bust the kingpin and shut the entire operation down. Glad to be back though". You smiled back at the winged hero. He nodded, before taking his seat right next to the flame hero.

"Mornin' Endeavor!" his cheery voice rang out.

Enji grumbled a greeting, his eyes not looking up

Eraserhead cleared his throat from the head of the table.

"Let's get started."

You couldn't help zoning out as the dark haired hero discussed the current mission. You forced your eyes to stare at the file in front of you and not the man across from you. You were so focused, you almost didn't hear your name.

"H/N, you will be working with Endeavor."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped up. You finally dared to look at Enji who's expression hadn't changed. As Eraser concluded the meeting, you steeled your nerves and walked to the flame hero.

"Endeavor, I-"

He cut you off. 

"Train. I will not be dragged down by you because you haven't sparred properly in six months." 

Your demeanor steeled. 

“I wasn’t just partying it up over there. I was working.”

If he cared, it didn’t register on his face. His turquoise eyes were fixed at the spot above you instead of meeting yours. Without another word, he turned to leave. You felt your face grow hot. Determined to not show emotion, you pursed your lips, grabbing your things to head back to your apartment.

---

“Endeavor, you lucky dog.”

Endeavor looked up from the paperwork on his desk with a bored expression.

“What are you talking about Hawks?” His voice was tinged with annoyance as he looked back down to the documents from the intel team.

“Stop pretending you aren’t thrilled to be working with H/N. She’s the BEST, and between you and me, she’s definitely one of the most beautiful heroes.” The blonde faux-whispered, tossing back his head in a chuckle.  Endeavor fixed him with an aggravated stare.

“I have no desire to work with H/N. She has been on a mission for 6 months, so we are at a disadvantage anyway, since I doubt she was actually working all of that time. Especially since her behavior is comparable to yours.”

Hawks cocked a bushy brow.

“Deny it all you want, big guy. Your body language is different when you’re around her. You should ask her out. I’m sure she’d say yes. Some girls like the mean and broody type.”

Smoke emitted from the corner of Endeavor’s desk, where his hand rested. Clearing his throat, he attempted to put it out, but not before the annoying bird hero noticed.

With a smirk, Hawks headed towards the door. 

“Don’t screw this up, Endeavor!”

----

What Hawks didn’t know is Enji had already screwed this up. Before you left, six long months ago, you and Endeavor were on relatively friendly terms. Well as friendly as one can be with the hotheaded flame hero. It was you that convinced him to go out that night with the other pro-heroes. And when the night ended, he had walked you home.

Surprisingly, he could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.

The walk home had been quiet, though you and Enji both had a bit to drink. Emboldened by the alcohol, you finally had turned to him.

“Enji, why do you try to push us away?”

Your boldness surprised him. It wasn’t a surprise he could come off a bit stoic, at best. Yet no one, especially newer heroes, called him out on this behavior. It was just “how he was”. Before he could stop himself he blurted out,

“I don’t wish to hurt people anymore.”

His face heated up and you could see a crimson blush rising up towards his ears. In that moment, you could see a glimpse of Enji, not Endeavor.

This wasn’t to say Enji wasn’t attractive. Yet, him exposing himself, allowing vulnerability? That made your heart jump in your chest. Turning away, you thought about what he meant. You knew his family had been estranged from him, his kids not a frequent presence in his life. You had seen a few gossip magazines detailing how his kids often avoided their childhood home, and you had read about Rei’s hospitalization. You imagined how lonely he must feel, though if there was truth to any of those rumors, you could see why they would be wary.

“This is your home, yes?” 

His voice broke your train of thought. You looked up and realized all too soon the two of you were outside your door. Your hand rested on the door handle and you imagined him sitting in a quiet living room, a house empty.

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” Your voice was squeaky and unsure and you were surprised when he grunted in affirmation. 

Wordlessly he followed you into the apartment. Somehow, without speaking, you could both feel it. The loneliness that bonded you, the freedom of being vulnerable in the dark blanket of the night, these moments allowing you to breathe and just be without expectation and titles. Because here, you weren’t pro-heroes, you were yourselves, seeking the tiny bits of comfort the other could provide. 

As you entered the apartment, the silence between you intensified. Your stomach was buzzing with nerves and as you looked up at him, you could feel the anticipation of who would break first. His hands found your hips and pulled you towards him, and soon his lips were on yours. He tasted like the scotch he had been drinking, warm and rich. His hands were hot where they met your skin, and you pressed closer in his embrace. Rough stubble scratched at your skin and you kissed him deeper, desperately wanting to let him in and lose yourself in him at the same time.

Your back pressed against the wall, and his fingers grazed the bottom of your shirt. Breathlessly you finally broke apart. Looking in each other's eyes, you unbuttoned your shirt, fingers trembling in anticipation. He took this as his cue to pull off his own, and you admired his strong muscles, littered with scars. You could feel his eyes roam your body as you undid the last button, leaving you in a simple bra and pants. His hands, hands that could throw buildings and fight villains, were gentle against your skin, slowly running over your belly to the edge of your bra. When you didn’t protest, he tugged at the clasps, letting it fall off your shoulders to the floor.

He pressed hungry kisses to your shoulder, slowly working his way down. His touches were gentle, as if you would break if he wasn’t careful and his mind raced, wanting to explore every inch of you. A soft moan escaped your lips as he nipped at your neck. Enji’s body tensed, and his grip tightened as he kissed lower, desperate to hear more of your sweet noises. 

His pants were painfully tight now, and you seemed to understand, because he could feel your small fingers working the latch on his belt, tugging his slacks down and exposing the tent in his boxers. He let out a low groan as your fingers wrapped around his clothed cock. Enji was a lot bigger than anyone in general, though he never really thought about it until now, when your hand was struggling to wrap completely around his thick member. 

 Maneuvering his hands from your hips, he cupped your breasts, pressing aching kisses to them. He sucked bruises into your skin, and bit back a groan as your fingers found their way under his waistband. Enji wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up, and you nodded to the general area of the bedroom. Nudging the door open, he gently rested you on the bed. Sliding your pants over your hips, leaving you exposed, a thin pair of black panties being the only barrier between the redhead and your sex.

His hands gripped your things, parting you open and he placed a soft kiss on your belly. He worked his way lower, hooking his fingers under your waistband and dragging the material over your curves before tossing it off the bed. Tracing over your soft mound with his finger, he pushed open the lips of your cunt. Like a man starved, he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue devouring your slick.

Your hands gripped his red hair and he groaned into you. Pulling your legs over his shoulders, he fucked you on his tongue, before sucking your throbbing clit between his lips. Eyes rolling back, your breathy moans filled the apartment. You felt yourself climbing higher and higher, so close to euphoria as you grinded on his face.

“Fuck...delicious.” He growled into your cunt. His fingers gripped your thighs, almost painfully and the vibrations of his voice pushed you over the edge. Your thighs squeezed around his head and your back arched off the soft bed as you cried out his name. He continued his assault on your cunt, slurping down your juices as your fingers tugged his locks, gasping at the overstimulation. Still, Enji continued to drown himself in you, your sweet taste like nectar of the gods. He wanted so much more of you, to stay here for hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense as you came again, your body trembling from the impact.

Pulling away, he kissed your lips, the taste of you on his tongue. Your tongues entwined, as your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the muscles of his upper back flex. Too soon and yet not fast enough he broke away, positioning himself between your legs, his massive frame towering over you. His hands rested on the bed on opposite sides of your face as he looked down at your body. Your lips were puffy from his kiss, parted slightly. Your eyes were glassy, half-lidded and hungry for more. You met his gaze and inhaled, giving him the slightest nod. He lined his cock up with your entrance, gently pushing the head in. You gasped at the stretch, and after a moment rocked your hips, spurring him to continue. Easing his cock in, he gritted his teeth at how tight your cunt wrapped around him. His hands moved to your hips as he pulled himself out of you, leaving the tip in before thrusting back into you.

Gripping your hips, he bounced you on his cock easily. Moans fell from your mouth, stuttering each time he bottomed out in you. One hand left your hip and gripped the headboard as his heavy balls smacked against your ass. Enji groaned as your legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him deeper. The headboard creaked under his force as he pounded into you, your moans of his name spurring him on, making him want to give you all of him. Your small hand ran over his chest, the dark hair soft under your fingers as you dug your nails in his skin. You felt overwhelmingly full, his thick cock filling every crevice inside you.

Enji’s fiery eyes roamed  your body, watching as your breasts bounced with each thrust. He could practically see the bulge in your belly from his cock and as lewd as the scene was, there was something so beautiful about you in the throes of passion. His name dripped from your lips like a mantra and he could feel the desire, the want that you carried, begging him to give you everything he had. Your fingers danced across his muscles, a touch so intimate. A touch he hadn’t felt in years.

With a crack, the wooden headboard began to splinter as Enji unloaded into you with a shout. Your body felt heavy as he shot white ropes of cum deep inside you, some spilling out around his cock and onto your sheets. With a final groan, he stilled, slowly sliding his softening cock out of you and collapsing next to you on the bed.

It was silent, except for the sounds of both of you breathing hard, your chests rising and falling in tandem. Enji could hear his heart thumping wildly and he turned to look at you. Your eyes were closed, breathing labored but slow and you sleepily turned towards him, laying your head on his massive bicep. 

The next morning, he was gone. The only evidence that the night had even happened was the crack that ran across your headboard and the glass of water on your night stand. Enji avoided you during hero meetings, always somehow on a busy patrol when you called, his assistant taking your message, yet again until you gave up trying.

When the months-long mission was offered to you, you accepted it without hesitation. Enji didn’t attempt to say goodbye.

-----

Now, Enji was torn. 

There was no getting out of this. He thought about reaching out to Eraserhead to ask about working alone, though he knew the sleepy hero would ask questions he didn’t want to get into. Enji furrowed his brow as he swung again at the punching bag in front of him, taken to training in his private outdoor home gym rather than the regular hero gyms to avoid you, though you hadn’t made any more attempts to speak to him.

He jabbed at the bag. This was ridiculous. He was a pro-hero. Allowing this to interfere with his work made him weak, and Endeavor was not weak. 

He wasn’t weak.

Enji threw a few more punches, shaking the sweat off as he reached for the bottle of water behind him. 

“Enji.”

He stiffened.

“Enji Todoroki, I don’t know why you are ignoring me or what I did to you, but we need to talk about what happened.” Your voice was clear, stronger than it was the day of the meeting.

He took a swig from his water bottle, biding his time. Finally turning around, he faced you. You were in a simple t-shirt and track pants, probably coming from a workout yourself. Your eyes were ablaze, demanding to get answers. Enji felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he compared the image of you now, to the image of you from that night.

“I have nothing to say. We will work on this mission, and be civil to each other. That’s all.” Enji attempted to push past you and you turned on your heel.

“You know what? Fine. You want to pretend you didn’t feel anything that night? That meant nothing to you whatsoever? Was it just to hook up, get your dick wet and leave? Because you didn’t need me for that.” Your tone was angry but Enji could hear the hurt in your statements. Facing you, he glared down.

“What do you want from me? To be your boyfriend? I’m not that man. Try Hawks, he’s into that sort of nonsense. I don’t need or want this trouble in my life anymore.” Enji’s voice was hard, the tone he used for villains or the press. You searched his face, seeking the man from that night. Enji, not Endeavor.

You thought over his words. “Enji...what are you so afraid of?”

The tone of your voice shifted. Softer, easier. He remembered how he felt when you begged for him, when you showed your desire for him through each touch and kiss. He finally looked into your eyes, eyes so full of earnest curiosity. Why couldn’t you just make this easy? He swallowed hard.

Fat droplets of water splashed onto his arms, and no sooner did he notice that the sky opened up, sheets of rain pouring over the two of you. Without thinking, he gripped your hand tugging you to the house. Even though it wasn’t a far journey, you were both soaked, and he could see you shivering. Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, he wrapped it around your shoulders. You murmured a thanks, standing awkwardly in his doorway.

He reached for your hand, leading you to the laundry room. Your hands were small in his and he tried to not focus on his heartbeat that pounded in his ears. 

“Wait here.” He grunted, leaving to grab clothes for both of you. He grabbed one of his, then thought better and dug around for anything Fuyumi or Rei may have left. No luck. He sighed, returning to the room where you were sitting on top of the washer.

Thrusting the clothes into your hands, he left to give you some privacy to change as he pulled on his clothes. A few minutes later he heard you giggling. You stepped out, drowning in his way too big shirt. The shirt extended nearly to your knees. The sweatpants he gave you were sliding off your hips and he glimpsed your thighs as you attempted to pull them up. Shrugging, you let them fall to the floor, your legs exposed.

“Sorry, but I don’t think they will stay on. Luckily, your shirt hides everything important.” You said, looking down. Enji mentally disagreed, since any inch of skin he could see would be burned into his brain forever.

Tossing both your clothes into the washer, he set the timer and then it was silent. You spoke first.

“I thought I did something wrong.”

Enji turned to you, Your gaze was fixed on the washing machine, though your eyes looked distant. You continued.

“I thought maybe you thought it was a drunken mistake.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

You turned. Enji’s cerulean eyes were downcast at the laminate flooring. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“I’m not good at this. I’m not stupid, I know the rumors about my family that people say. They aren’t all lies. I did fuck it up. I did a lot of bad, terrible things and pushed them away. Rei, and the kids...they didn’t deserve any of the pain I caused them.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of his past overtaking him. “I did, I do love them. But I understand why they had to leave.” He sat on the small couch in the corner.

Enji felt your hand cover his, your thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Enji...doing shitty things doesn’t make you a shitty person. You can’t punish yourself forever.” Your voice was soft, soothing. Enji finally met your eyes.

“I’ve already fucked that up. I fucked this up. I don’t want to hurt people I care about anymore. It’s easier this way.”

You wrapped your arms around him. The two of you made quite a sight, the smaller figure cradling the large man. You stood in front of him and he let himself relax into you, his head resting on your chest. He could smell your scent, warm and comforting, even under his shirt. Your fingers grazed his hair, holding him to you. Enji thought of the nights where he lay in bed, allowing himself to imagine your body next to him. 

He was tired of being strong.

“Enji...I can’t say everything will be perfect. But punishing yourself before it starts isn’t going to do anything but cause more pain.”

He could feel your heartbeat, a steady rhythm that matched his breathing. He was aware of his hands around your body, your soft strokes in his hair. He thought about how it would feel to have your touches, hold you in his arms every day, every night.

Enji allowed himself to fall.

He raised his head, his lips meeting yours. With each kiss he silently told you his hopes, his fears, and his apologies. In turn, you gave him comfort and acceptance. He pulled you onto his lap, so you were straddling him, kissing you hard to make up for the months of missed opportunities. 

You kissed for what felt like forever, never wanting to stop. His hands slid down your back and across your thighs, going under your shirt. 

“You look so good in this. Wanna see this more often.” He whispered, a smirk on his face. You giggled and he had the desire to hear all of your beautiful sounds. In time, he reminded himself.

“Enji, are you flirting with me?” You teased and he pulled you close in another kiss. His hands wandered across your soft skin and he could feel the hardened peaks of your nipples through the thin cotton of the shirt. He kissed down your jaw, and your fingers grasped at his hair, causing him to groan into your neck.

“You tease me so much, Y/N.” He growled out as you grinded on his lap. You could feel his cock stir through his joggers, and you felt yourself growing wetter on his lap. He pulled your shirt up to your waist, exposing your thin panties to him. He could feel your arousal through the fabric and ran his thumb down the dark spot over your cunt. You let out a soft whimper and his eyes blazed with hunger.

 Pulling your shirt above your tits, he took one in his mouth, sucking harshly. He grazed your nipple with his teeth, causing your back to arch. He switched sides, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your hips rocked against his bulge, more prominent now and he pulled away from your chest.

“I want you Enji.” Your voice was soft and seductive, and Enji felt your words go straight to his cock. Picking you up, he carried you to his room. The lights were dim and you didn’t have time to look around before he dropped you on the bed, pushing your legs apart and lapping at your cunt through your drenched panties.

“Already so excited, sweet girl. Taste so good for me.” Enji murmured into your pussy, pressing kisses and bites to your thighs. You whined, attempting to push down your panties and he laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. 

“So eager, aren’t you?” 

You pouted at him. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.”

Enji was grateful for the dark room hiding the blush that spread across his face. He busied himself by dragging your panties down at an agonizingly slow pace, taking the time to admire your legs, his fingers skimming the skin causing shivers to go down your spine. Enji turned to take in the scene. Your body, draped across the sheets, mouth parted, eyes full of want staring up at him, silently begging for him. He had pictured this many times, many sleepless nights, but the reality was so much better.

“So beautiful.”  HIs voice was quiet, and his heart thumped wildly. He was nervous, even though he had already been with you once before. This time felt so raw, so much more real. He wanted to be with you in every way he could, in any way you would let him and he could tell you wanted the same.

As he pulled off his shirt, your hands slid into the waistband of his pants, grazing over the head of his throbbing cock. He groaned as your fingers slid over the sensitive head, smearing precum down the shaft. You pushed down the rest of his clothes and he kneeled between your legs. Both of you were quiet, and you could feel the excitement in the air of doing this, being with each other completely. It was vulnerable, it was scary, but he trusted you to be there when he fell. And in turn, you trusted him to be yours.

Pushing into you, your breath hitched. He felt your body clamp down on him, and he slowed, easing his way in. Your nails dug into the skin of his biceps and you gasped as he bottomed out in you.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he searched your eyes for discomfort. Instead you gazed at him with complete adoration, bright eyes completely infatuated.

“You’re perfect, Enji.” Your voice was quiet and breathy, but clear. In response he pressed a harsh kiss to your mouth, trying to explain every emotion he felt, words he couldn’t say just yet. As you kissed, he rocked into you, his thick cock dragging against your walls. Your soft moans were swallowed by his kisses, and the stinging marks left on his arms only drove him crazier. He fucked into you faster, feeling your tight cunt squeezing around him, wanting so badly to stay inside you forever.

Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and the room was filled with your sweet sounds, interspersed with his praises.

“Taking me so well. Such a good girl. Fuck, so beautiful.” Enji gasped out, his high imminent. Each thrust had you seeing stars and you felt like your body was floating. Moving his hands from the sheets, he slid over your clit, teasing your body. You clenched around him.

“Fuck, right there,don’t stop!” You gasped out, grasping at the bedsheets, your back arching off to meet his thrusts. Enji complied, his rhythm speeding up as he toyed with your clit and you cried out, your body squeezing his cock like a vice. You gushed around his cock, and he fucked into you faster, feeling his body heat up. With a groan he slammed into you, holding you down as he spilled into you. His hips stuttered as he filled you with every drop, and soon the room was filled with panting as both of you struggled to catch your breath.

Easing out of you, he grabbed a towel, cleaning you up before collapsing next to you. You were both quiet and you were reminded of the time before. Nervous, you turned to him and made eye contact.

“Are you staying this time?” Your voice was small and Enji saw your fingers threading the sheets, nervously.

“It’s my house.” He responded seriously. Caught off guard, you burst into laughter. He watched you amused. You looked gorgeous and he would never get used to the sound of your laughter filling the house that had been quiet for too long.

Catching your breath, you turned back to him.

“What I mean is...do you want to do this? Together?”

Enji looked at the bed that was no longer empty, felt the life and warmth that filled the house, exuding from you just being there and entwined his hand with yours.

“Yes.”

[spideyspeaches]

Gold Rush ↬ t.h

Gif by @parkeraul :)

A/N: I'm in love with that song 🙈 also here's my super late contribution of professor!tom 😋 cause I've been procrastinating on the wandavision au (in my defence though, it's taking a lot of brainstorming 😂) anyway here you go-

Wc: 2.6k+

Warnings: lemme know if you find one :)

Summary: He taught British History and you chastise yourself for not auditing for that subject earlier.

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Waking up with a start, you groan at the shrill sound of your alarm. With a sigh that was more of a grunt of annoyance, you tried to reach for your phone at the side table, hissing when you felt the corner of your elbow hit the table, pain shooting up to your shoulder. 

Great, you weren't even up yet and your day was already going shitty. You just hoped that your professor won't be grumpy about you being late for the millionth time this semester. 

You hated cultural architecture. You had nothing against the course, but You hated your professor with a passion and wished that you could burn your textbooks for all you cared, right in front of your teacher's eyes, watch him writhe in fear as you banished the very existence of your material. 

You were being dramatic, but in your defence, your professor was an old bastard who never left an opportunity to reprimand you, going as far as letting you know how uneven your margins were on your latest project. 

He wore birkenstocks with a three piece. You wouldn't trust him with your assignments. 

Getting out of your dorm room was work, hard work. But you got out, brushed your teeth and wore what you hoped were presentable clothing. 

"You look hungover." Your roommate, Stacy, commented, spitting in the sink as you scowled at her. 

She was straightforward, outspoken and somehow managed to look like one of those Victoria secrets models that you loathed, even at seven in the morning. You hated her. 

(You didn't.)

"Thanks, I hope I smell too. Want that son of a bitch- what's his name, Wilson, to suffer for giving me that C minus on my thesis." You grumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair to flat them out. 

"You really hate him, don't you." She snickered, popping off her shirt. You tried not to look, not wanting to come off as a pervert, but damn, she was fit. You contemplated her words, frowning at your own reflection. 

You looked disheveled, the dark eye bags under your eyes very apparent as you tried to mask them with foundation, setting your hair for the millionth time. Oh well, you were presentable enough. Sweatpants would have to do for your only class today, you could binge Netflix after this wretched class. 

"I do. I hope his third wife divorces him and he loses his thermos of coffee in the subway." You said, adding your look finally before wearing your shoes. 

"That's cruel, didn't know you had it in you." She snickered, patting your back and following you as you closed the door, "Well I have to go to my boring science lectures now so, see you later hun." 

"Yeah, enjoy your chemistry period with your boyfriend!" You cheered sarcastically, rolling your eyes and hugging her to tell her that you were only joking. Your relationship was this, of jokes and hugs and kisses. You considered her your best friend. 

Rushing towards the gates of your university, you hastily tightened your loosening hair tie, adjusting the straps of your bags. You were pretty sure you had broken your record of being late to your class. You may hate the professor, but you actually enjoyed the subject. 

Wheezing as you ran past the late comers, you nodded at the receptionist, hastily signing yourself in. You would blame your clumsiness for what happened next, because one second you were fixing your sande on the foot of the fountain, and next thing you knew you were crashing into a firm body, your nose hitting the random stranger’s chest.

"I’m so sorry! I’m kinda late to class and I wasn’t looking and- whoa, ow.” You rushed your words, groaning when you felt blood rush from your head to toe, nose throbbing with double vision, a reminder of your clumsiness. 

“Whoa, hey calm down, it’s okay, I wasn’t looking either.” The stranger said, his thick South Western accent snapping you out of your self pity. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks instead, not anticipating your face in a flush this early in the morning, when you got a good look at the stranger. He was good looking, in his black high turtleneck and brown checkered pants. He had a small leather satchel clutched in his hands, face looking as flushed as you felt when you realised that you had been gawking at him.

He was probably no older than his mid twenties, making you wonder what he was doing in your university. He was too old to be a student, and too young to be a professor. But then again, you wouldn't judge him for joining college late.

Right? 

"S-sorry, you um, you must be really late, you should go." He stuttered, your heart fluttering at his dimpled chin and thick accent. His eyes were gleaming in the morning sun, captivating in a way that left you in awe. 

"Um yeah, I am." You nodded, composing yourself, hoping that you didn't look too sleep deprived or disheveled, "where are you going, if you don't mind me asking."  

"Um, the architecture wing?" He said, unconsciously stepping besides you.

"Oh, I'm going that way. Is it your first time coming here? Haven't seen you around." You asked, trying not to stare at his sharp jawline and the way the morning sun hit him just right, illuminating and accentuating his curly brown hair. 

"Yeah, it's my first lecture, so um, looks like I'm late too." He smiled. It was infectious, you noticed as you mirrored his expression. 

"Oh, you're a student?" 

"Actually, I'm a professor. Just transferred from UCL." 

So you were right, he was a professor. He looks so young though. You thought, nodding at him, your thoughts interrupted by his laugh. Looking at him with confusion, you raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, everyone says that. I started right after finishing graduation so, I guess I'm not much older than you." He smiled, kicking the small pebbles littered around the set grassy ground. It had just rained, the smell of wet ground still fresh. 

"I said that out loud didn't I?" You smirked, ducking your head to hide. 

"You did." 

Entering the building, you realised that you hadn't asked which subject he taught, crossing your fingers and hoping that he would replace the old bastard that taught you cultural architecture. 

"I forgot to ask, which lecture do you teach?" You asked, looking for your class in the end. The hallways were empty, it was way past your first lecture and all the students were already in the auditorium. 

"Oh, uh, British History." He answered. You didn't let disappointment show too much on your face, smiling shyly before gesturing towards the class, "that's you." 

"Oh, um thank you." He smiled, pursing his thin lips together as he walked towards the class. You could hear screaming of the students as you both neared the classroom, you still standing by the door, "I didn't get your name." 

His question snapped you out of your disappointed gaze, 

"Oh, it's Y/n. Y/n L/n." You said with a smile. 

"Pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Thomas Holland, but you can call me Tom." He said awkwardly, before turning back to his class, who had yet to notice him.

"The pleasure's all mine Professor." 

For the first time in your college life, you didn't feel like tearing your hair off during your lecture, your thoughts wandering around. You wanted to berate yourself for not paying attention, but your thoughts kept going there. 

It was funny, how you met him not long ago and he was already taking up residence in your brain. You could not control your feelings after all. Something akin to nausea or excitement eased into your stomach when you pictured his smile, his black turtleneck that accentuated his biceps and pectorals. The little rebellious eyebrow and the tiny scar above it. 

It made your heart flutter, everything seemingly seemed to stop around you. It scared you a bit, how You had managed to envision the little details of his face in your brain after such a short duration. 

You didn't realise that you were smiling until you felt a nudge on your side, making you nearly jump on your seat. 

"What?!" You hissed, scowling at your classmate. 

"Who're you thinking about?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned towards you. You had known her long enough to know her name but never bothered learning, and you were too scared to ask now. 

"It's none of your business." You muttered, glancing up to see your professor scowling at a student as they stood up. 

"Well okay, but did you hear about the hot new professor? Apparently he's teaching British History, I regret not taking that as a subject now." She said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. You furrowed your brows, feeling a pang in your chest at the realisation that you were probably just another girl with a stupid crush on the hot professor, that there were already girls who would die to feel his touch. 

"How do you know about him?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you try to act nonchalant. You weren't being subtle, apparently, because you could see her snapping her bubblegum with a smirk, leaning forward as if trading secrets. 

"You kidding right? Everyone knows about him, you got a crush on him or something?" She suggested, scooting close enough to make you squirm. 

"I literally just met him, and ew, he's a professor, why would I see him that way?" You whisper, willing your heart to stop palpitating at the thought of said professor, your gut twisting in anticipation. 

"I don't know girl, he's hot and young and so much better than this bastard." She sighed, leaning on her palm with a fake dreamy expression. 

You went back to ignoring her after that, noticing how her notebook said 'Eloise'. At least you didn't have to ask her her name now. 

Your class went surprisingly well, or maybe it was because you weren't paying attention and thinking about him again. You really needed to get a grip on yourself. 

Walking out of your class, you decided to go to the cafeteria, your stomach begging for your attention.

Setting your things on a table, you took out your phone to scroll through Instagram, before switching it off and looking around the cafeteria. You didn't know what you were expecting to see, but your stomach was gurgling with hunger and nothing made sense when you were hungry. 

Walking to grab something to eat, you pick up your bag, hanging it over one of your shoulders before getting in the line. 

Just as you were about to turn with your bun and cup of coffee, you crashed into someone for the second time that day. Cursing your clumsiness, you heard a familiar British accent curse not very colourful words, making you stumble over as you tried to wipe off the hot coffee off his shirt.

"Hey, it's okay." He said, stopping your frantic gestures by holding your wrist with his to cease any movements.

"Professor Holland! I'm so sorry, it's like, I'm just clumsy. I have no excuse." You sighed in resignation, mentally facepalming at spilling your coffee at the hot professor. 

"It's okay darling, I've had much worse spilled on me." He smirked, his hand still holding on to yours. You had started walking away from the location, and yet his hand didn't let go, "You know, I used to babysit during my college days." 

"Oh, babysitting, right of course." You chuckled awkwardly, chest heaving with the sudden close proximity with the professor, dissipating the not quite PG thought that just occurred in your mind at his words.. 

"Sorry for-" You said in unison with him, chuckling. 

"You go first." He said.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on You, it must have hurt and I ruined your shirt and now there's a big splotch of coffee right in the middle!" You said, circling your fingers around your palm as you walked with your back to the exit as you walked out of the cafeteria, food forgotten and him following your pace. 

Before you could continue your awkward blabber, you were standing in the garden outside, leaning against a pillar with the garden in your view looking golden in the setting sun. He was standing in your view, the shadows around his jaw making it look sharp enough to cut glass. 

Taking a breath, you looked up at his smiling form with confusion when he didn't answer, instead leant onto the pillar next to you.

"You were... gonna say something?" You reminded, smiling awkwardly as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Oh? Oh! Oh yes yes, You know, I was kind of disappointed that you weren't in my class, Mister Wilson talks very highly of you." He said, folding his arms on his chest, it made his biceps bulge. 

"He does?" You looked at him with surprise, guilt panging in your chest when you remembered yourself bad mouthing the professor not long ago. 

"Yes, says you're a bright student with a bright future." He answered, leaning his head back so that his neck was exposed, Adam's Apple bobbing as he gulped, his hair falling into place perfectly against his forehead. The arch of his neck was beautiful, tracing it with your eyeballs as you imagined which other curves of his were as beautiful, immediately dismissing those thoughts, chastising yourself for thinking such a way of a professor. 

"That's… sweet of him. I've never heard him compliment me once in the two and half years I've been in his class." You chuckle, leaning your elbow on the pillar to get a better look at his side profile. 

"Hmm, he says he's hard on you because he wants you to do your best..." 

You stopped listening past that, your breath growing more erratic the more he talked, his smooth voice washing over you like warm honey with a squeeze of lemon. Swallowing a sudden lump in your throat, your heart leaping, leaving you nauseous and in a dream like trance. 

Tom noticed immediately, noticing your slouched posture as you stared at him with a small smile, the upturn of your lips so inviting that he almost dived in, wanting to know the feeling of them what they felt like against his. 

He wasn't the kind to date his students, in fact, he rarely dated after joining uni and becoming a professor. 

He strictly believed that student/teacher relationships should end in only a professional non romantic set up. That was all up until he crashed into you that morning. 

You had been in his mind all day, stirring him crazy as he imagined your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your subject of interest, the say your fingers fiddled with the ring you wore on your index finger. 

He wondered if this feeling would last forever or become a vague memory, an attraction of hearts that didn't last but felt good till it did. If he was rushing, or if you even felt the same way. 

He was smart, of course that's how he became a teacher, but he still couldn't place your feelings. 

So when he saw you staring at him, his heart leaping in his throat at your adorable smile, the only logical answer his brain gave was that you liked him too. Temporary attraction or not, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in it's mouth. 

Next thing he knew your lips were crashing onto his, your chest pressed against his firmly as your hands reached up to the base of his neck. 

Your fingers were soft, tongue swishing against his as he opened his mouth to let you enter. His hands automatically reach for your waist, holding onto firmly as he slammed you against the pillar. 

The sun was nearly down, the last of the rays hitting the garden, lighting you both up in a golden glow that left you breathless with a fire raging in your souls. 

"What do you say that I audit for British history? I'd like to learn more lessons from you, Professor Holland." You said, breathless against his chest, hiding your nose against his sternum, blood rushing to your ears as his warm hand burned against the bare skin underneath your shirt. 

"That would be great darling, anything to see your pretty smile every morning." 

A/N: let me know what you think! :)

[jaskiersvalley]

Meet The Parents

Over on The Bog on Discord, there is a cursed Shrek channel. The idea for this fic was encouraged there and, well, 1.5k later, I have so many regrets, this is definitely what I'd call a shrekcident. All I can say is that writing Shrek and Fiona is really really difficult!

@dapandapod, @thecomfortofoldstorries and @fontegagrilledcheese I think you all asked to be tagged when this is up?

Meet The Parents

There had been several letters from back home, suggesting Jaskier return and brings his lovely travelling companion. It was, without a doubt, Jaskier’s mother writing the letters, she had always had a better grasp on courtly things than his father. Truth be told, it was no secret that the Count of Lettenhove absolutely hated ruling and would much rather spend his time out and about. There were several swamps in Lettenhove that he claimed needed his very dedicated attention. The fact Jaskier’s mother went along with him was no surprise. Despite her upbringing, she was quite fond of a swamp or two too.

“It’s another letter,” Jaskier sighed, flicking it into the fire in the inn. “I don’t understand why they are so insistent on me bringing you home. I mean, they’ve never been interested in previous love interests before. Probably because they’ve all held titles and had standards.” Geralt grunted, eyes fixed on the small alchemy set up he had going on the table. It didn’t deter Jaskier as he carried on. “Mother thinks you and father might get on well once you get past the initial shock of meeting.”

“I can’t imagine anyone being over the moon to meet a Witcher. Especially not one that their darling son is fucking.”

“Well, quite. Father had a couple of run ins with Witchers in his youth. Not all of them were pleasant. But I’m sure you can change his mind.” Jaskier hummed to himself as he thought. “Plus Mother was a cursed princess so you might find some common ground with her. And did I mention my uncle? I spent a lot of time with him growing up, he was really patient, letting me learn to walk by clinging to him. Anyway, he and his dragon-”

“Dragon?” Naturally Geralt perked up at that. “You should have started with that. We’re going to Lettenhove.”

Naturally Geralt had assumed the worst. As if anyone related to Jaskier would be able to keep a dragon against her will. His family was just too nice! But Geralt would learn that fact for himself in a few short weeks when they arrived at Jaskier’s ancestral castle. It was a castle, not a mansion, well kept, if a little more shabby than most. There were overgrown bushes around it and Geralt could have sworn the small of a sulphuric swamp drifted on the winds. They marched up the stairs, everything eerily quiet until the door burst open to reveal two menacing figures.

“Ogres!” Geralt shoved Jaskier behind himself, a snarl on his lips and ready to fight. “I believe this is the Count and Countess of Lettenhove’ residence. What are you doing here?”

“Witcher!” The male ogre spat. “Nothing good has ever come of your kind. You’re not making us move.”

From behind Geralt, Jaskier sprang forwards. “Mother! Father!” He embraced the ogres before being almost bowled over by a donkey. “Uncle!”

“You call this a greeting? This is how you say hello to your favourite uncle? What have I got to do before I get a hug from my favourite nephew?” The donkey looked to the side where the ogres were still staring and turned to see what the issue was. “That’s a Witcher. Oh, that’s your Witcher! That���s a nice Witcher.”

That seemed to pull Jaskier back into the moment and he stood up, clearing his throat. “Right, Mother, Father, Uncle, this is Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, my family.”

Vesemir would be so ashamed if he ever found out how Geralt reacted. All the years spent drilling manners into Geralt’s head were for naught.

“How?!”

“Well,” the donkey said into the stunned silence, “when one ogre loves another ogre and they’re into experimenting with potions-”

“Donkey!” Jaskier’s parents cried in unison before his mother continued. “Please excuse Donkey. I’m Fiona, this is Shrek. And to answer your question, ogres and humans had different anatomy. We got curious, had potions to change temporarily and, well, Jaskier happened during those three days.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to hiss, “Mother! Please don’t tell Geralt about your kinky sex lives.”

“Yes, Eskel told me about ogre anatomy and the differences in rather too much detail,” Geralt grumbled.

“Eskel fucked an ogre?”

“It was an orgy actually - though he insisted on calling it an ogre-y. Said he couldn’t get the mud from the swamp out of certain places for over a week.”

As far as first impressions went, Geralt didn’t think he could have done any worse. But he was being ushered in all the same, Donkey already chattering away about the inane things that had happened since Jaskier last visited. It left Geralt in the rather silent company of Shrek while Fiona led the way.

“Dinner’s at seven,” Shrek gritted out and Geralt hummed in acknowledgement which garnered a grunt in reply.

“Oh my word, you’re marrying your father,” Donkey cried at Jaskier, head snapping to look between Shrek’s retreating back and Geralt standing in the hallway as Fiona opened a door.

“Don’t mind him-” Whatever else she was saying went over Geralt’s head because he caught up with Donkey’s words. Just what was that about marrying?!

They stepped into the room and Jaskier let out a wail of anguish. “Mother! Two beds, really?”

“Just be glad Shrek let you even share a room. But I couldn’t talk him out of having Mirror on the wall.”

“Hello,” the enchanted mirror called. “Please don’t rearrange the room or do anything untoward, I really rather wouldn’t see those kinds of things.”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. This was fine, he could do this, there was a dragon somewhere around and he was duty bound to make sure she was free. He regretted such a decision by the evening. There was indeed a dragon who lived at the castle but she refused to take a human form, far too happy and, of all things, in love with Donkey, enough to have a clutch with him Dragon-Donkey babies were terrifying, Geralt had ascertained, menaces, taking their temperament from their father while their mother gifted them with wings and the ability to breathe fire. Suddenly, Geralt understood why there were never any contracts in the area. The locals befriended every creature, monster and anything in between. And any they couldn’t? Well, ogres and dragons could easily keep things in check.

Once the shock of it all had worn off, Geralt could actually focus on eating. Other than Jaskier, there seemed to be no one who cared for things like utensils.

“Please, Mother, Father, at least try to have some manners?” Jaskier looked pleadingly at his parents. His only response was Fiona letting out quite the impressive belch before high fiving Shrek.

The sound of small, pattering feet caught Geralt’s attention. He looked at Shrek and Fiona before trying to find the source of the sound. This seemed like the kind of company that would appreciate his party trick with a fork. A hand around his wrist stopped him.

“Not the Three Blind Mice. They’re friends.”

Almost disappointed, Geralt settled back to finish his surprisingly hearty meal. It wasn’t the usual fair of courts, this was more about being filling and warm rather than showing off all the money that went into making tiny portions full of expensive spices. However, it certainly helped set Geralt at ease.

“So, when’s the wedding?” The small amount of peace was shattered by Shrek asking around a mouthful. It had Jaskier shrieking while the rest of his family watched him, frozen in place but not exactly surprised. More like they were patiently waiting for him to be done. Shrek shrugged. “I thought you were bringing your Witcher home to get married. Isn’t that how it usually goes in fairytales?”

“That’s only princes and princesses,” Donkey cut in. “You have a viscount. They don’t have to get married. Unless…?”

“I’m not proposing,” Geralt blurted out. There was a collective groaning sigh from the table, some of it relief, some of it disappointment and Geralt didn’t know just how offended he should be. He didn’t expect Jaskier to loudly but delicately put his cutlery onto his plate to make in clink pointedly.

“Good. Because I wanted to be the one to propose. On my own terms. In my own time. Mother, do you still have the ring? I think I will take it with us. Might eventually use it.”

Donkey gasped. “Not the One Ring?”

“No!” Jaskier sounded exasperated. “We all know what happened to cousin Gollum with that one. I don’t have any wishes to lose my hair because of that. I meant Grandmother’s ring. I doubt Grandfather’s would be very useful.” He turned to Geralt. “Grandfather was turned into a frog. His ring is rather tiny as a result.”

Of course Jaskier had ogres for parents and a frog for a grandfather. He still took after his uncle the most by the sounds of things. Given how Donkey hadn’t stopped making noises, whether it was humming or popping his lips, it was incessant. Geralt felt he now understood Jaskier a whole lot better. And, when the time came, if Jaskier did offer him a ring, Geralt had zero reservations about the knowledge that he would say yes. But the wedding was going to be at Kaer Morhen, he was going to have to insist on that.

[lune-hime]

Mosquito Huntress (Chocobros x f!Reader

I hate mosquitos, you hate mosquitos, we all hate mosquitos. This drabble is dedicated to the hundreds of mosquitos that died on my Korean dorm room wall at the hand of my  left Adidas sandal :3. 

Noct’s was inspired by true events. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

↞Noctis↠

It was the most horrendous sound. A sickeningly high pitched buzzing that vibrated among your ears at a rapid frequency. It pierced the veil of your dream and forcefully drop kicked you back into the waking world with a start. Just as you regained consciousness an electric clap in the darkness caused you to jolt, almost kicking the sleeping bag off your form. A shadow blocked out the dim moonlight that filtered through the ceiling of the tent.

Noctis’ eyes glowed like sapphires and shown with such an iridescence that meant he had just conjured up magic. Indeed, the clasped hands that were held a few inches above your head emitted a faint blue hue.

“Noct, what are you doing?” You drawled, the close proximity of the light within his palms to your face caused your eyes to squint in irritation.

“I got it.” He whispered victoriously, blinking a couple times in anticipation of your reaction.

“Got what?” You asked just as a large yawn engulfed you.

“The mosquito.” He grinned, shuffling to the door to the tent. He unzipped the zipper just enough for him to wiggle his hand outside, discarding the evil bug. Before you could speak up, Gladiolus’ violent snore ripped through the silence of the night from the far side of the tent. Prompto sleep-kicked the man in the stomach, offering a brief moment of tranquility before the disturbance would inevitably make a comeback.

“Did it die a painful death?” Your voice was devoid of sympathy and the seriousness on your face made Noctis chuckle as he sat cross legged next to you.

“I zapped it before it could land on your face. It died a quick death, sadly.” He stated in a hushed tone, gently brushing flyaway hairs from your forehead.

“What a shame. Still, well done.” You praised, reaching up to give his cheek a few lazy pats. He leaned into your touch, so much so that your drowsy limb flopped down onto the ground.

“What were you dreaming about?” He inquired softly. He was uncharacteristically chatty at this time of night for a boy who needed at least two naps daily.

“I was being serenaded by a beautiful man.” You grumbled. You were still peeved you were abruptly whisked away from the gentle, moonlit guitar strums and the man’s ethereal voice.

“As beautiful as in real life?” Noctis mused his lips curling into a smug smile. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“The man from my dream is real?” Your fatigued features contorted as your half asleep brain actually contemplated being able to manifest dreams into reality.

Noctis scooted so close to you that his leg was bushing against your side. He leaned down and stopped when his face was centimeters from your own, whips of his hair feathering your cheeks.

“He’s right here.” Noct stated lowly, his tone as smooth as the sea that resided within his eyes. Their serene waves were beginning to lull you to sleep.  

“No he's not. Ignis is on the other side of the tent.” You replied cheekily, now unable to keep your eyelids from falling. Before Noctis could respond you tugged on the fabric of his tee shirt and dragged him back down into the sleeping bag. You may have been exhausted but you always had enough energy to tease your prince.

↞Prompto↠

It was hot. Painfully hot. The kind of hot that once the humid air left a wet kiss on your exposed skin it clung to your form and every surface in the sun-exposed living room. The heat was slowly sizzling you alive and you were beginning to feel like a shrimp in a hot pot. A blonde shrimp was nestled atop of you, pressing your clammy body further into the plush sofa. His gentle puffs of steamy breath seared your neck and his limbs encircled you, involuntarily incubating you. The electric chattering of the fan and the low hum of the unattended television masked the otherwise curdled silence of the room.

Slowly rising from your slumber just as the sun was rising in the morning sky, you became fully aware of just how sweltering you were. And no matter how much you loved cuddling with your sunshine, he needed to get off of you otherwise you would dissolve into a pool of sweat. Wiggling around under him, you groaned when he clasped onto you tighter, burying his face further into the crook of your neck. You gave an exasperated sigh and now felt even stickier than before. You began to push him off once more, this time a bit more forcefully, when you saw it. The unwanted visitor stood out against the pale skin of his back like Gladiolus at your high school dances.

So you did the only thing you could do to ensure it wouldn’t escape. You smacked his back. Hard . The clap of skin on skin resounded through the apartment and caused a few pigeons to anxiously fly off their perch outside of the windowsill. The rapid flapping of wings was immediately followed by Prompto’s squirrel like squeak.

“WHAT’S WRONG?” His voice ascended to octaves that seemed impossible to reach. He was now very awake, disoriented, and in pain. He shot up to straddle you, sinking back onto your hips and reaching up to clutch the point of impact. There was a deep red mark already blossoming on his shoulder blade. Your eyes held pity until you saw the tiny daemon dust the skin of his upper arm.

“PROMPTO ITS ON YOUR ARM!” Your manic tone only skyrocketed Prompto’s anxiety. He recoiled when you leaned over to deliver another powerful hit. The poor boy was trying to grasp if he was still asleep and experiencing a nightmare.

“WHAT ARE WE AFRAID OF AND WHY DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO HIT ME?” He exclaimed on the verge of tears.

“MOSQUITO!” You rapidly pointed to just below the sleeve of his tank top, the dark spot illuminated by the warm bands of sunlight. Prompto let out a sound resembling a duck being squeezed.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME SOONER?” His limbs were in a jelly-like frenzy as they slapped every exposed surface on his body. In the fray, it had strategically darted away from the hurricane of body parts but made its appearance once again when the storm had calmed.

“IT’S ON YOU NOW!” Prompto wailed, causing your eyes to grow wide.

“WELL THEN GET IT OFF ITS GOING TO SUCK MY BLOOD!”

“I DON'T WANT TO HIT YOU.” He whined, shifting apprehensively in his seat. He brought his hand inches from where the mosquito rested on your clavicle but hesitated before the glistening skin.

“I HIT YOU BEFORE ITS OKAY, IT EVENS OUT!” You encouraged, scooching closer to him so your knees touched. You craned your neck to give him a larger area to work with.

Reluctantly, Prompto’s palm came into contact with your collarbone a little too gently. You shot him an amused smirk.

“That was weak.” You said. He rolled his eye and when he removed his hand, the mosquito had been vanquished. You both exhaled a steamy sigh of relief.

Suddenly there was a brisk knocking at your door. After exchanging wide eyes, Prompto padded to the entryway. Before opening it, he discarded the carcass into the trash bin and gave his hands a few thorough wipes against his sweatpants.

A very tiny, unamused woman was standing in the hall. A lit cigarette hung lax from her right hand while the other rested on her hip. He blinked a couple times, unsure of what to say.

“Do I need to call the police or is yelling ‘It’s okay, hit me’ a kink of yall’s?” She said as more of a statement than a question, her voice gravelly. When she exhaled, a large puff of smoke blew into Prompto’s now reddened face. He tried to dodge it unsuccessfully and coughed before explaining.

“Uh, no, to both. We’re fine. We were just-” Prompto started, struggling to battle the creeping mortification brought on by the woman’s assumption. She abruptly held up her hand, cigarette dangerously close to Prompto’s mussed bangs, and turned to walk back to her apartment.

“I don’t need a detailed description of what you like to do in bed. Just keep it down.” She imparted, her voice cracking like and unpaved road, leaving Prompto a sputtering mess.  

A week later, the whole floor of the apartment complex was convinced you and Prompto had an affinity for bug and bug killer role play. It would take you several months to live this down.

↞Ignis↠

“Darling come to bed.” Ignis’ command was more of a sweet invite than an instruction as he was far too drained for anything else. It had been a longer day than usual at the Citadel and all poor Ignis wanted to do was feel the sweet embrace of sleep.

“No.” You retorted stubbornly, not wavering from your defensive post next to the bookshelf. There was no way you would be able to go to bed with that thing watching you, waiting until the vulnerability of sleep overtook you so it could feast upon your blood.

“Please.” He pleaded, his level tone turning into a slight whine by the end. This was the seventeenth time he had asked you. Yes, Ignis was keeping count.

“No, not until it tastes my blade.” You spat, eyes narrowing as you tried to focus in on the tiny intruder’s location.

“You are unarmed my dear.” Ignis’ lips curled into a smile. He discarded his book on his lap and resigned to watching your antics. If he couldn’t stop you, he might as well enjoy the scene before him.

“My hands are my blade.” Your statement was quickly drowned out by a yelp as the mosquito fluttered off the wall. Your body contorted in ways Ignis never knew it could to avoid any possible contact with the creature as it floated a little too close for your liking.

Ignis snorted at your response, lightly biting his bottom lip to swallow a chuckle. You looked more focused on killing this spec of dust than you did hunting a coeurl. No matter how silly the situation was, the glint of determination in your eye and over exaggerated reactions had Ignis regarding you with adoration. He adjusted his position against the headboard, satin sheets pooling softly downward to reveal his bare chest. His hair was still damp and mussed from his shower and thin frames laid low on the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t so preoccupied by the mosquito you surely would have been more than distracted by his appearance.

You circled the room and randomly hit any surface that harbored any substance that vaguely resembled a mosquito. When you accidentally slapped your thigh instead of the side of the wardrobe Ingis’ melodic laugh broke the tense air. You shot him a glare that could melt ice and stuck out your tongue.

Just as he was going to coerce with you once again, the small creature buzzed just under the rim of his glasses. He silently followed the bug with his eyes until it landed on the nightstand next to the bed.

“It’s over here.” Ignis gave you the tip, gesturing to the tiny dot resting on the mahogany.

“Smack it!” You screeched, excitement flooding your veins at the proposition of a peaceful night’s sleep.

“No.” Ignis said smoothly. He was always one to push your buttons. Even though he could end this ridiculous hunt with a single swipe of his palm, he felt teasing was a much more entertaining option. You gasped at his betrayal.

“You’re the one who wants it dead, not me.” Ignis responded innocently, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come on, the minute its dead I’ll come to bed.” You pouted, attempting to bribe him with cuteness. Ignis shook his head and pursed his lips. It took everything in him not to start laughing again.

“But I’m so comfortable.” He dragged out each syllable, flopping down and spreading out so he took up the entire surface of the bed. His eyes resembled the greenery of rolling hills against the horizon as they regarded you from under his eyelashes. They almost made you forget about the task at hand. Letting out an annoyed whine, you turned your attention once again to your prey.

You thanked your crownsguard training for the lightness of your feet as they padded silently against the wood floorboards until you were within smacking distance. The moment your hand met the nightstand with a satisfying crack, a triumphant smile spread across your face. There was no way it could have survived that hit.

“I take that as a fresh kill?” Ignis questioned and propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yes, add another to my kill count.” You turned towards him, still beaming, and held up your palm to show him the bounty of your hunt. You playfully shoved your hand near his face, giggling when he struggled to push you away. He laughed, grimacing when it got a little too close to his cheek.

“Lovely, darling. Now go wash your hand and let's go to bed.”

↞Gladiolus↠

The air conditioning revved to life with three crisp clicks once your sweaty fingers tiredly turned the dial to the max setting. Your corner of the vast training room was now gradually flooding with a frosty breeze that prickled your clammy skin with delightful icicles. A satisfied sigh left your parted lips, thankful to be relieved from the stickiness of hand to hand combat. Your butt was practically glued to the bench as you let the polar vortex cool you down. The grunts of other training Crownsguard members and the slams of bodies hitting the padded mats were muffled by the pulsing in your ears as you gingerly patted the sweat from your neck and face with a towel. A few paces from you Prompto laid sprawled out on the floor, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Don’t get moody, Prompto. She manages to overpower me half the time too.” Gladiolus nudged the deflated blonde with the toe of his boot and flashed you a cheeky grin.

“I know, I know. But the only one I’m ever able to take down besides the new trainees is Noct.” Prompto sighed dramatically.

“Well, that’s not a challenge at all.” Gladiolus snorted and passed you a water bottle, the condensation feeling lovely against your clammy palms.

“He might be easy, but he cheats by warping.” You added, rising from your seat to stand directly in front of the air con. The rush of cool wind felt heavenly on your back.

“Exactly.” There was no emotion in Prompto’s voice. He turned his head agonizingly slowly to look at you, gaze empty. You choked on your mouthful of water at his melodrama.

After taking a few generous swigs from his own water bottle, Gladiolus sauntered over towards you. Rather than standing next to you, like you expected, he grabbed your arms and moved to stand behind you. The action stole the euphoria of the synthetic wind and you whined in protest. He stretched his arms out on your shoulders and rested his chin atop your head.

“Well lately the only one who’s been kicking my ass is Iris. Besides the Marshall, of course.” You coughed as you wiped the droplets of water from your chin with the back of your hand. A giggle bubbled from your chest when you felt Gladiolus tense.

“Oh yeah, she’s getting good. It took her even less time to take the big guy down last week.” Prompto chuckled, vitality slowly flooding back into his system. Gladiolus visibly shuddered and released you from his hold to walk back over to the mat.

“She’s getting too good.” He mumbled as he rolled his shoulders.

“You wanna fight her next time instead of me, Prom?” You suggested jokingly. Gladiolus snickered, making Prompto faintly kick in Gladio’s general direction.

“No thank you. I’ll stick to the 15 year olds and Noctis.” He huffed as he pulled himself off the ground. His movements were like a piece of tape being tugged off of the floor painstakingly slowly. Once Prompto had vacated the training space, Gladiolus threw you a playful grin. He got into a fighting stance, his knees bent and arms angled for combat.

“Ready for our spar, baby?”

"Wait." You stated, attention on the corner of the air conditioner. Gladiolus squinted in the direction of your gaze.

"I will NOT train with this uninvited guest watching me." You declared, slowly rounding the corner of the machine. Prompto let out a quiet huh while Gladiolus shook his head.

“She really hates mosquitoes, doesn’t she?” Prompto asked rhetorically, fanning the sweat from his face with his hands. Gladiolus smiled fondly when you untied your shoe and attempted to use it as a killing device.

"Mhm. Honestly, I think her determination is pretty adorable." Gladiolus responded, not taking his eyes off you.

"Gladdy-" You whined when your target flew too high for your hands to reach. “I need your help.”

You beckoned him over with haste and he padded over with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Give me a boost, it's too high for me to reach." You tapped his shoulders and gestured for him to get down.

“What do I get in return?” He asked rather innocently. Your eyebrows shot up, expecting something more suggestive.

“I’ll treat you and Prompto to ramen when we’re done here.” You proposed, holding the shoe at eye level.

“Hell yeah!” Prompto cheered from the towel rack.

“Done.” Gladio hummed in excitement and knelt down so you could climb onto his shoulders. Gladio maneuvered you as close to the metal box as he could without ramming your knees into the side. You smacked the top hard with the sole of your shoe and turned it over for inspection.

“Hah! Die, bitch.” You roared happily, pressing a triumphant kiss to the top of his head. He squeezed your thighs in return and lowered you to the ground.

“My little mosquito hunter.” He cooed, smushing your cheeks together. “Now come on, let’s get this spar over with so I can get some free ramen.”

"Fine, but if I win Prompto has to fight Iris next week." You smirked.

“Sounds like a deal.” He agreed, winking at you as he got into position.

“This isn’t consensual!” Prompto’s protests were quickly forgotten in the throws of combat.

[harrygroves]

a simple favor -- chapter four

to chapter three

Billy’s been doing a damn fine job of avoiding all thoughts concerning Steve Harrington. It’s been a blissful, quiet week.

And now that week is up and hell is about to begin.

They’re in Billy’s Camaro, Steve insisted they take his car, and he’s been driving for almost three hours. Steve is fussing with the radio and fidgeting as they get closer and closer to his parents' summer home.

“Dude, you really need to chill out. You want some Xanax?” Billy offers.

“What? No, I don't want any -- why do you have Xanax?” Steve wrinkles his nose, arms crossed.

“I think you of all people would agree that life requires a little anesthesia every now and then.” Billy gives him a knowing look.

Steve looks like he wants to say something snotty so Billy turns up the radio as a way to deter him. Instead, Steve moodily stares out the window.

Billy lets him for a little while before reaching over and taking Steve’s hand, threading their fingers together. When Steve tenses up, Billy gives it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay babe.” Billy says soothingly but his snarky grin gives him away.

“God, I hate you so much.” Steve grumbles, but he doesn’t try to pull his hand away.

*

The summer house is actually a mansion. There’s a sprawling lawn in front of it, with trimmed hedges and a goddamn fountain. Billy wants to make so many jokes about silver spoons but he holds back because Steve looks like he’s having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey!” Billy says once they’re parked, reaching over and shaking Steve’s shoulder.

Steve looks back at him, like he forgot Billy was there. He’s pale and wide-eyed.

“Oh fuck.” Steve whispers. “Oh my god, oh my god, this is such a stupid idea. What the fuck am I doing, they’re going to see right through this -- ”

Look, Billy doesn’t want to kiss Steve.

Well, actually, that’s bullshit. He does want to kiss Steve but he doesn’t want to want to kiss Steve. It’s very distracting and he’s just in this for the money. The ten grand.

He’s been telling himself this for a week, like a daily affirmation.

However, Steve is freaking out, which is usually good for a laugh or two but Billy needs him to get his shit together so he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Steve is still trying to talk but the words get lost between them while Billy hums against his mouth, trying to be soothing and soft in hopes that it brings Steve out of his head. It works for a few seconds before Steve reaches up and puts one of his hands over Billy’s, which would almost be tender if Steve wasn’t trying to pull them off his face.

Billy lets him go and leans back. Steve is flushed and looks sad.

“Don't just...do that.” He mumbles.

Billy shrugs. “Kind of have to.” He grunts back, getting annoyed that Steve refuses to wrap his head around the thing he planned.

“Yeah, well…” Steve trails off. “Let’s go.”

They get out of the car and Billy grabs his bag from the backseat.

A girl their age with reddish-brown hair is running to them from the front door.

“Steve!” She yells and launches herself at him, wrapping him in a hug.

She babbles and laughs and smiles like Steve’s a goddamn prince.

“Should I be jealous?” Billy calls out to the pair.

Steve and Red Head look over at him.

“Oh, sorry, lost my head for a second. This is my sister, Robin.”

Sister, right. Steve had an older sister. Billy forgot about her, if he was being honest.

“Is this him?” Robin mumbles, but Billy can hear her just fine.

“Yes, uh. This is my...boyfriend, Billy Hargrove.” Steve says, smiling at Billy.

It’s too wide and his eyes are too bright. It’s the most human Billy has seen Steve look in weeks. It’s freaking him out.

Robin marches towards him and stretches out a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Billy. Steve has told me absolutely nothing about you.” She says it with a bright smiles and zero hostility.

Billy shakes her hand and tries to give her a pleasant smile in return. “Yeah, Steve just wants me all to himself, ya know how he is.”

He doesn’t, he’s totally winging it but Robin laughs and Steve clears his throat.

“You guys must be tired and hungry, I’ll let you get settled. Mom and Dad will be on your asses enough at dinner, so why don't you guys go hide out for a while. I’ll keep them occupied once they’re back from the court.”

“Thanks Robin.” Steve says and gives her another hug. “See you later.”

Robin leaves them and Billy leans towards Steve.

“The court?” He asks.

“Tennis.” Steve replies.

*

Steve leads Billy through the house, past floor-to-ceiling windows and paintings that have to be original prints. A few people pass them, all wearing uniforms. Steve says hello to everyone pleasantly and Billy gives them tight smiles. They have fucking housekeepers. Servants. It’s so...rich. There’s a grand piano at the base of a giant staircase and Steve leads him up to the second floor, down halls littered with vases of flowers and tapestries.

“This is insane.” Billy hisses.

Steve shrugs. “It’s home.” He says it hollowly, like it is very much not a home.

They end up in a bedroom the size of Billy’s apartment. It’s got bookshelves built into the walls, armchairs in front of a fireplace, a walk-in closet where Billy drops his bag of clothes, it’s own bathroom and a giant LED television mounted on the wall.

There’s silver-framed pictures on the fireplace and nightstands beside the bed. Family photos, solo shots of Steve as a kid, in bowties with a bowl cut. Billy examines them all.

“Robin’s nice.” Billy says casually.

Steve’s sitting on his bed, which is huge, by the way and absently scrolling through his facebook feed.

“She’s great.” He agrees flatly.

Billy wonders if she is great.

“Facebook.” Steve mumbles.

“What?” Billy asks, looking at Steve.

“We...fuck, we don't have anything on facebook, about us.” Steve says, almost in horror.

Billy shrugs, walks over to join him. “So what? Not everything needs to be online. We can just say we’re one of those couples who don't showboat our love on the internet.”

Steve winces at Billy’s words and nervously chews on his lip. Billy grabs Steve’s phone.

“Hey!” Steve shouts at him, reaching for it.

“Knock it off, c’mon, Steve -- stop it.” Billy says, smacking his hand away. “This is going to work. But only if you calm down. Right now the only thing in our way is you. You’re getting too caught up in the details. Just chill out, hold my fucking hand, and give me a gross pet name and we’ll get through this.”

He says all this, direct eye-contact, no blinking. Steve is quiet for a second before taking a deep, belly-full breath and closing his eyes, making an O with his mouth and exhaling slowly. Once he opens his eyes, Billy gives him a nod. Steve nods back.

*

Meeting the parents at dinner is a stifling affair. Steve’s mom isn’t going out of her way in the slightest to hide how much she does not like Billy. She turns up her nose at his clothes, eyes his hair like Steve’s isn’t an unkempt mess and politely insults him wherever she can fit in a jab.

“Oh, beer. How perfectly simple. A simple man is good.”

“I like that car, Billy. Very rustic.”

“There’s something to be said about plain fabric. Some can be too cumbersome to care for, it’s nice for some things to be easy.”

Billy grins, toothy and fire-eyed, sneaking glances at Steve who is very interested in his salad.

Steve’s dad isn’t much better. He keeps going back and forth between glaring at Billy and scrunching his face together, like he’s scrutinizing.

“And where did you say you’re going to go to school?”

“How exactly did you meet my son?”

“What do your parents do for a living?”

Robin keeps trying to steer the conversation away from them but the parents aren’t having that.

“How long have you two been dating?” Mrs. Harrington asks during the fish course.

“Six months.” Steve says.

“Two years.” Billy says, at the exact same time.

There’s an awkward pause and Billy can practically hear Steve’s heart rate triple. Billy laughs and takes Steve’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“He was courting me for a lot longer than we’ve actually been together. All those fond memories, right, bunny?” Billy looks at Steve fondly.

Robin starts choking on something and has to thump at her chest to clear it up. “Bunny?” She croaks out.

Steve is bright red and staring at Billy with glassy eyes, probably seething but that just makes it more fun.

“Yes.” Steve blurts out, voice a bit high. “We, uh, I...really wanted...to be his boyfriend.”

Billy barrels onward. “He did that thing, with the boombox, stood outside my place till I let him in. It was so sweet.”

Robin is silent-laughing, and her eyes are starting to water. “I’m dying.” She says. “No seriously, I am fucking losing it over here.”

“They don't need all the details, sweetie.” Steve says in a syrupy voice.

“But the letter, I have to tell them about the letter.”

“No, no, I don't think so. That letter was just for you.” Steve says nervously.

“I would like to frame the letter.” Robin pipes in, struggling to drink water as her shoulders quake from laughter.

“So anyways,” Billy continues. “I finally just said, hey, let’s toss the guy a bone here,”

Robin is howling at this point.

“And he did, and we’ve been in love ever since.” Steve supplies quickly. “Now where is that next course, I am starving.”

He makes dagger-eyes at Billy who just takes his hand again and kisses Steve’s knuckles.

Once dessert and coffee have been consumed Steve gets to his feet.

“Well, we’re exhausted. Right, Billy?” He chirps.

“Sweetie, c’mon, how often am I going to get this kinda face-time with your parents? Shouldn’t we stay?”

He is hamming it up and Mrs. Harrington purses her mouth like the very thought is making her nauseous.

“Now, now. We’ll see them tomorrow morning.” Steve smiles back. “Let’s go to bed.”

Mr. Harrington coughs heartily into his napkin.

They bolt and hole-up in Steve’s room.

After changing into pajamas -- Steve changes in the closet -- they sit on the bed watching television and Billy waits for the inevitable.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Steve finally snaps during their second episode of Golden Girls.

“I never gave you any indication otherwise.” Billy shrugs.

“That was so embarrassing, making it seem like I pined for you.”

“Well we had to say something, Harrington, and you were doing that Bambi-in-the-headlights thing, so I just rolled with it.”

“You rolled with it alright, I can’t believe you said all that shit.”

Billy snaps. “Fine, Steve, then you come up with stuff. Stop acting like a kid who doesn't want to get in trouble otherwise we’re going to get caught. Be a fucking man.”

That shuts Steve up for a long time. When Golden Girls ends and The Nanny starts up, Steve gets up from the bed and goes into the closet.

He’s only gone for a few moments before emerging with beer, little bottles of alcohol, and a bag of individually-wrapped chocolates.

“What the -- ”

“There’s a mini-fridge in there.” Steve mumbles.

He gives Billy a beer, deposits the bottles in between them and starts unwrapping a chocolate.

Finally, Steve says, “I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Billy replies, cracking open a beer.

“I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re really not.”

“...I’ll try harder.”

“Good.” Billy replies, eyes never leaving the television.

There’s this weird tension between them and it lasts for a little bit until Billy is so uncomfortable he has to say something.

“Dinner was...something.”

“Told you.” Steve grunts.

“Man, I don't know which one hated me more.”

“Mom, for sure. She loathes people who don't own at least three boats.”

“Damn, and I just have the one.” Billy deadpans.

Steve grins, actually grins, before he catches himself and pops another chocolate.

“This is like a fucking hotel.” Billy says, grabbing for a bottle.

“I learned very quickly growing up that the less time I have to spend outside this room, the better.” Steve says.

“I want to make so many ‘princess locked in an ivy tower’ jokes right now.” Billy says seriously.

“Shut up.” Steve snaps. “And it’s ivory, dumbass.”

Billy chuckles and drains one of the mini-bottles. “So, we’re essentially trapped in here, is that what you’re saying?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, we can go do whatever you want. There’s a couple libraries, an indoor pool, I actually convinced them to make a bowling alley in the basement.”

“You have a fucking bowling alley?” Billy asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was a birthday gift when I was, like, twelve.”

“Jesus christ, Steve.”

“Yeah, but we run the risk of dealing with them,” Steve’s parents, “So, ya know, wage your bets.”

Billy whistles. “Wow, you really don't like them.”

“No, I really do not.” Steve mumbles, eating another chocolate.

“So I gotta ask. Why me?” Billy opens another mini-bottle of vodka.

Steve looks away from the television, eyes Billy, then resumes watching. “You already asked that.” He points out.

“Yeah, but like, you could’ve found someone on Craigslist, like a lot of lonely losers do.”

“Wow, when you put it like that?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Like I said, it was a matter of convenience.”

Billy puts a hand over his heart and pretends to swoon. “I love it when men say that to me.”

Steve throws a handful of chocolate wrappers at him.

Billy grins. “Okay, so really though, what are we going to do tomorrow?”

Steve contemplates this for a moment.

“Ever been horse-back riding?”

part five

[the-crows-typist]

hi! since your askbox is open may I request a ficlet of leona and fem!mc with the word "crown" please? thank you💖

The Possibilities are Endless

Hello there, dear. I hope you’ll like this one. A little piece where you are the heir to a fallen kingdom and married to the prince to save it.

This piece has an AU where in you, the reader, is the heiress to the fallen kingdom of bird people and is arranged to marry Leona in order to save it. you can say this AU has two concepts in one!

“Another game of chess, eh? Tell me, will you win this one?”

Your marriage to Leona Kingscholar was purely out of political gain. You, the daughter of the fallen king of the Avian Kingdom and him, the third in line throne of the Kingdom of Beasts. The ceremony was short and the vows were recycled from an old piece love story remembered through the ages, neither of you shared a glance at each other nor neither did you speak during the reception. You didn’t really think that someone like Leona could love you nor did you ever think that someone like you could even love Leona. The two of you were pieces of a puzzle that never matched.

That is, until the both of you decided to play a game of chess.

“Is this a pastime for you, your majesty?” You asked, moving your pawn in the way of his queen as a last ditch effort to protect your king. He moved his queen piece, eating the pawn without hesitation and leaving the king alone and unprotected. “You can call it that. When Farena and I were kids, we would play chess to pass the time.”

Your hand drew back and you gave it a thought, Leona’s pieces greatly outnumbered yours. Your king would be put on checkmate if you don’t do something quickly. “You and King Farena…Interesting. I did not think that he would be into these kinds of activities…As I see him out and about all the time.���

You pulled your king back and Leona retaliated by eating the nearby rook piece. You were slowly losing control of the board. “He likes board games as much as the next person. He’s just not very good at it. His words, not mine.” A small laugh left your lips and you raised your hands. “And this is where I raise my hands in defeat.”

“But you still have your queen to use.”

“True.” You say, tipping the king to fall on its side before looking to the queen piece staying in its position. “But I don’t think a king would want to see his queen suffer just for his protection.” Taking the queen, she placed it near the fallen king.

Leona huffed, taking the fallen king from the board to get a good look at it, scrutinizing the detail of the polished hardwood. “Using your heart in these kinds of situations will guarantee a bitter loss.” He said, you took the queen in your hands as he continued to speak. “Isn’t that what happened to your kingdom, princess? Why you had to marry.”

The grip on the queen tightened and his words bit in and pulled out the memories you so wanted to keep hidden. Your kingdom was falling apart with siege after siege and the straw the broke the camel’s back was when the trusted advisor of your father was assassinated. Your mother, bless her soul, was your father’s last source of comfort and he couldn’t bear to lose her.

So he surrendered, leaving your kingdom in the hands of the enemy. In overwhelming guilt, your father disappeared and soon did your mother follow; leaving you to be the sole heir to the kingdom.

“I don’t expect you to love me.” You put the piece down. “Neither do I expect myself to love you.”

“But I’m going to right the wrongs my father has down and help my kingdom with this marriage.”

Your eyes shined as your stared into his bright green ones. Somehow, it reminded you of emeralds polished to perfection its brilliant gleam contrasting the dull appearance of the second born prince.

“Checkmate.”

Days passed as the both of you bonded over chess, whether it be teaching each other how strategies to gain control over the board, discussing philosophies, or just telling each other funny memories from childhood.

“No, wait, you mean your scar wasn’t from this big epic battle like the stories say?” You asked through your fits of giggles as Leona sighed in embarrassment. Somehow, telling you his personal stories were both a pleasure and an annoyance. “It wasn’t. I actually…I got it by running into a wall.”

“Oh my stars, Leona!” You burst out laughing, holding your stomach as your voice echoed through the halls. “That’s precious.”

Leona grumbled, his lips barely keeping in a smile. “To be fair, I ate too much sugary treats. I couldn’t help it.” You rubbed your eyes of the tears that settled on your lashes, your cheeks darken from the sheer joy you got from your laughter.

“Hey, at least mine wasn’t as bad as the time you got stuck on the tree because you thought it was a good idea to start flight training.” He retorted again.

“I was 5.”

“So was I.”

The chess games then became nights where you would meet him by the balcony to stare at the stars and talk. Your hands in each other’s grasps. “When you’re up in the sky, the world below looks like a river of stars.” You began. “It’s just so different up there. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Leona blinked, looking over to you. “Then why don’t you try to fly up now if it makes you happy.”

You pushed yourself off the ground and bringing your knees to your chest. “If I did…I don’t know how long until I come down. If my parents didn’t then...”

His hand went to yours, caressing the soft skin of your hand.

“I can’t do it. Not now.”

“You don’t wear any crowns, Leona?” His brother, Farena with his wife and son made a public appearance for some time. Little Cheka was sick for a few days and the family decided to walk around the market place so that the little prince could get some fresh air and some sun.

“The royal jewels are only used by the reigning monarch.” On Farena’s head rested the family’s prized crown. The ruby stone shined greatly on the crown of Farena’s head, an emerald on his wife’s, and a tiny diamond on Cheka’s. You hummed out in reply as you walked with him.

“You came here without one. Don’t you wear a crown in your kingdom?”

“I’m not one for certain jewelry. I like bracelets and necklaces, even rings…But never crowns.”

The both of you held hands as you walked through the market, easily losing the royal guard in the crowd. Your wings tucked to your back, making sure it doesn’t bump into anybody and alerting others of your presence.

“Do you like wearing crowns, Leona?”

“I’m fine with it as long as it’s not heavy.”

“Heavy?”

Both of your hoods went up, hiding his ears and your hair just as the scream of the guards resonated through the crowd.

“Where is his highness and his wife?!”

“I tried wearing Farena’s crown back then. It was really heavy; I’m surprised he doesn’t have stiff neck from wearing it all the time.”

“Search the perimeter. They shouldn’t have gone far!”

The both of you stopped by a flower shop, its products floating in tubs of water. Something catches your eye.

Flower crowns.

“How much for this, madam?” You ask the lady looking after the stall. She was a small thing, quite old but kind looking. “That will be 75 madols for one, miss.” Your eyes widened at the offer then moved to take some notes and coins out of your pocket, handing it over to the nice old lady.

“So, you don’t like crowns that are too heavy…” You fish out a crown of purples, blues, and pristine white. “Then these will be perfect for you, Leona.” You nudged him, your elbow to his. “Come on, you know you like the crown. I can see it in your tail.” You say with a giggle.

“I hate it when you’re perceptive.” Your husband says, his tail swaying in excitement and glee. He removes his hood from his head and bows it. “To think I would have a public coronation.” The stall owner chuckles as you put the crown on him. “I dub thee—“

“Prince Leona, your highness! There you are.”

Leona let out a growl as he straightened himself to look over at the guards running your way. “Why did you stray away from the group?” They asked. “Please, let us go back. Your brother is worried sick.” The both of you exchanged glances and Leona turned around to get another flower crown form the tub. “Alright, alright. Tell my brother to calm down. It’s like neither of us were trained.” He growls, taking your hand and walking back into the crowd.

On his head was the flower crown you gave him.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you walked back to the safety of the royal family’s convoy. “Leona?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s play chess later.”

He gave you a smile, one that was not laced with his usual haughty nature. The hold on your hide tightened comfortably. “Sure.”

[gotnofucks]

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

 It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203 

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny 

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco​

[votederpycausemufins]

The bots are all fixed!!! Well, they are physically. Mentally is another question which we’re not covering hahahahahaHAHAHA! also wack, no smp members. @petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

“There, that should do it. We might want for someone to test it out in the near future, but it does look like it’s fixed.” Xisuma spoke as both of the bots powered back on. “I can see why we had trouble before. It looks fine if you’re not actively looking for that problem specifically.”

“Thank you very much Xisuma.” Mumbo said, checking both of the bots over for his own peace of mind.

“Of course. I also got a response from Biffa in the middle of it all, and while he’s not willing to share all the details of his past, he was willing to give a few notes. As these two are player entities, natural world magic is going to help them adapt more to that. He’s willing to come visit in a few weeks to see the two of them if you’re all okay with that.”

Mumbo looked over to Grian who nodded. “That’s more your guys’ call. You both knew him much longer than me. I mean, we interacted of course and he seemed nice, but you know better.”

“Well X, I think that would be lovely.” Mumbo replied, looking back to the admin.

“You know, is it just a family thing to like people in pink, or is it just coincidence.” Grifter spoke up, making everyone look over at him exasperatedly.

“Did you have to follow us in here?” Mumbo groaned, and Grifter just nodded, feathers coming off of him as he moved from stray ones sticking to his clothes.

“Too many chickens outside. Inside’s safer. Besiiiiiiides it’s less boring in here. And I’m the one who even knew what was wrong with your kids. Also yeah, you fixed it, no need for testing.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Grian asked, crossing his arms.

“Of course not. What would I get out of lying about it?” Grifter shrugged. “They also look like my little pumpkin rolls, so why would I want to hurt them?”

“Didn’t your version of Jrum try killing ours?” Mumbo said with a frown.

Grifter just scoffed. “I told him about the bug! He was going to make sure your kid respawned correctly. I just needed some help and for you not to know. It worked out in the end, didn’t it? It only didn’t work out for those asshole admins and me.”

“Speaking of, Tommy’s old world has a console now. Well, a console other than Grum. Is the hels version the same?” Mumbo asked, genuinely curious, though the smile that Grifter gave worried him.

“Weeeell, the short answer is no, it’s got a new admin. The longer answer is that the new admin is meee!”

“You?!”

“I’m sorry why you?! I’m not the admin here! I’m not even opped!”

“I know you’re fucking not.” Grifter rolled his eyes, pulling a stray feather off of his sweater. “Our worlds are parallel but they aren’t one to one equals, dumbass. And we’re not just influenced by the shit that happens here. May I remind you that I was a Listener when Deevo and Evo started while you only became a Watcher when it ended. Or at least close to the end. And my boys were born before you built these two. The worlds sometimes force themselves together, like NPG staying around when I was gone and my boys not functioning until yours were around or… you know… Tommy being pulled to Hermitcraft after Theseus ran off to Helscraft.”

That got everyone’s attention. “Wait, is that why Tommy doesn’t know how he got here?”

Grifter smirked. “Yeah. After Nightmare got killed, Thee got the admin powers. He was pissed over things and ran off looking for me. Of course I was imprisoned and Dad wasn’t letting anyone near me, so the best he could find was season five. Member changes are always a forced thing, so I guess something pulled Tommy here to fix it that way.

“But wait, won’t that…” Grian trailed off.

“Shove you into the SMP? Fuck no. I’m admin, but I’m not gonna live there. I’m a Listener, I can check on things while living in Helscraft. Besides, things are different with NPG around. I mean, unless I kill him-”

“Don’t you dare!”

Grifter huffed. “I wasn’t gonna! Despite how much I hate him, he was the one person caring for Sense when he was all alone, so I’ll give him that. So no death, maybe just some torture. Anyway, I’m sure you’re visiting, so it balances out. Probably.” He finished with a shrug.

“Oh joy of joys.” Mumbo groaned while Grian looked so done with the world.

While all of this had been going on, both of the bots had completely powered on. At first they just took in their surroundings, staying quiet since it was clear others were in the middle of important conversations. Then they saw each other.

With everything that had happened, the two bots had barely been in each other’s company, and when they were, they were at each other’s throats. Jrum was the first to look away in shame as he could remember most of what happened clearly, but Grum was a bit fuzzy on a number of details. He hesitated, reaching out towards his brother a bit, before just pulling his hand back.

When it seemed the conversation was coming to a close, Grum got Jrum’s attention and used his screen and hands to signal something before looking over to their dads. “Um, Dads?”

Mumbo and Grian both looked over to Grum when he spoke up. “What is it Grum?”

“Could… Could Jrum and I have a bit of time alone? To… talk with each other?”

The pair looked to Xisuma since it was his place. X nodded before helping to lead them as well as Grifter out of the room and to somewhere else.

For a few moments, both of the bots were quiet, just sitting there, unsure what to say. Then Jrum started up the conversation. “I’m sorry for being mad at you. I got all upset at Dad getting upset at family, but then I was doing the same thing.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who started things. You reacted to my actions and were influenced by those red plants.”

“Yeah, but Dream was messing with you and made you be mean!”

“No he didn’t.” Grum replied, which confused Jrum for a few moments before Grum elaborated. “I started realizing something was weird and I panicked. I was worried I would do something really bad and hurt you. I didn’t know what exactly, and I also wasn’t sure if I could safely tell you. I knew if I said something kindly or nicely asking us to distance ourselves, nothing would work until I explained more. And I didn’t want to have to deal with you asking to stay because I didn’t want you to go either. So I just sort of… let myself be mean. I can’t even blame it on someone else. It was me and only me.”

Jrum was quiet, just processing what his brother had said. Then, after a few seconds, he scooted closer and hugged Grum. “Then that’s not your fault! You didn’t know what was safe to say, and that’s because the admin was - don’t let Daddy know I said this - Dream was a piece of shit!” Grum paused before giggling a bit, not expecting his brother to say that. “What? It’s true!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… nice to be with you again.”

Jrum smiled and hugged a little tighter. “Yeah, and now we’re gonna be closer because we went through trauma together! Speaking of which… how long do you think we can milk this?”

Grum pulled away from the hug to rub his ‘chin’. “Well, Dad is more likely to notice we’re up to something, so only a week or two with him. But if we play our cards right, we can keep things going with Daddy for a month. Maybe even more.”

“What? That long?”

“Well, we sort of got stuck in a time displacement bubble for a month all by ourselves and got controlled by different things. We would need to be careful and not make it seem like we’re having a relapse, but if we have a, quote unquote bad day, we can definitely get a lot out of it.”

“I’m going to build a new shop.”

“Good idea, so many people will want to support us. We might even get a discount on some land in Aquoo town. From Scar and not Bdubs of course.”

“Of course, we have more sway over Scar.” Jrum nodded.

“The question is what to sell.”

“Yeah, that part’s gonna be a bit harder. Hmm, maybe a gardeni-”

“Nope! Absolutely not!”

“Ugh, rude. Hmm… Odea two?”

“Ooo, good idea, good idea. It also sounds like we could get some interaction with the SMP after this, we could outsource there. I mean, we already have the connections.”

“Oh definitely. Speaking of, I kinda said Fundy could come visit Hermitcraft a while ago. Do you think that would be allowed?”

“Oh easy. We can even get Michael and his dad to come too.”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted an actual playdate! And this time I won’t be almost killed by a clone!”

“Let’s find our dads and ask?”

“Definitely!” Jrum nodded, and the two bots jumped off of where they were sitting and went looking for their parents.

“Leave me alone Lynn.” Grian grumbled, wings puffing up.

“Not until you tell me what a Listener is doing here!” The other Watcher gestured to Grifter, who was giving her a smirk.

Grian sighed. “Basically I’m making sure he doesn’t destroy everything by keeping an eye on him. Unfortunately that means he needed to come here while I change some records.”

“Really? You changing records? I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Oh shut it. Remember that Watcher I asked about? You couldn’t find anything but I kept looking into it and found two unknown Watchers.”

“And let me guess, you figured out who they were. Was one of them Eyes?”

Grian half shrugged. “Yes and no? Uh, so both of them are my kids and Eyes is like… part of my one kid?”

“Oh you’re an idiot.”

“Hey hey hey! He’s not just an idiot, he’s also a dumbass!” Grifter spoke up, getting glares from both Watchers.

“But seriously. You used Watcher magic to build them?”

“I didn’t think I did! I mean, I guess maybe? But Mumbo was in charge of the redstone and the redstone was the mayoral reservoirs and that’s what was technically using magic.”

“I’m going to have to tell someone about this.”

“Okay. Can you just try to make sure it’s someone that’s not going to completely freak out?”

“Hmm, no promises.” Lynn replied, and then walked off before Grian could say more.

“Oh I like her.” Grifter smiled. “So how do you know each other?”

“She’s the Watcher that was in charge of at least part of the world I grew up in.”

Grifter nodded. “Well I would love to hear the stories she got from there. But that can wait. Where are we going now?”

“Records room. I need to officially list my boys as Watchers and then get their data transferred to their names.”

“Ughhhh that sounds boring. Where’s the cool stuff?”

Grian just groaned and led them to the records room, needing to give excuses to a few Watchers here and there on the way. He was able to quickly grab the needed files since he already knew where they were. Correcting the names was easy enough since they were currently unknown and waiting for the answer. Correcting other forms was harder though. Normally a Watcher had their name officialized before doing much work. Maybe once or twice based on the situation, and that was the case with Jrum seeing as how his only real use of magic was when Grian himself had triggered it. But Grum had a lot more.

Every time Grum accessed the mayoral reservoirs, he was really looking into all the political data that the Watchers had gathered over the years. That alone would be a hassle, but the fact that there was extra paperwork for accessing certain sub categories was causing more issues. Normally you needed permission for data on destroyed worlds, but of course Grum managed to bypass any blocks and get right into the data. And since he was unlisted, it had caused some more logging errors.

Grian half contemplated just flipping the table he was at. It would send paperwork everywhere, but a quick bit of magic would fix it, and it would feel gratifying. But then again, Grifter was here, and who knows how he would react. And Grian expected a worse case scenario there. “Okay, can I trust you for like three minutes to go tell Mumbo it’s going to take a while here?”

Grifter’s eyes lit up a little and he nodded. “Three minutes! Got it!” Grian immediately regretted it, but before he could say more, Grifter was gone.

Mumbo glanced at his communicator for the time. He expected Grian would take a while, but he also hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long. Plus, he was also worried that if the bots were left alone too long, they could get into trouble. He was just about to go check on them when he heard the sound of them running in his direction. 

Mumbo couldn’t help but worry about why they were running until he actually saw them. With everything that happened the past few days, his mind kept trying to jump to the worst outcome, but the moment he saw the boys smiling, it calmed him down.

“Daddy! Can we invite people over to play?” Jrum asked, looking hopeful.

“Even with everything that happened, we managed to make some friends. It would be nice to thank them by letting them get to visit here.”

“And I kinda said someone could come visit and they’re kinda our cousin and he knows Auncle Iskall so please please please can they come visit?”

“And Michael was nice too. I didn’t get to interact too much, but he seemed rather nice.”

“Pleeeeeaaaaaaaase!”

Mumbo tried to get them to calm down. “Alright, alright. I’m sure the two of you could use some time to relax and have fun. We just need to wait for your dad to come back so he could get them. It may also be a while since I’m sure he wants to wait for Tommy to want to come back too.”

“Okay! We can wait!” Jrum agreed. “Can we go check the shopping district until then?”

“I’m not sure. I should wait for your dad to come back.”

“But we are perfectly able to go on our own.” Grum pointed out. “And even if something were to happen, the shopping district is so commonly filled with others that another hermit would assist us should there be trouble.”

Mumbo hesitated, but then agreed. “Alright, but see if Iskall is home and then ask them to take you there. I don’t want something happening on the way there.”

Jrum was happy to agree, but for a moment, Grum hesitated, their screen changing a bit. “Could we possibly ask Uncle Scar instead?”

“I’m… not sure he’s around. Grum are you sure you should be going?”

Grum nodded. He didn’t want to leave Jrum alone again. “No. It’s fine. W-We can go see Auncle Iskall.”

Mumbo didn’t look completely convinced, but Jrum’s pleading look got him to look away for just a moment. “Alright, alright. Go on before I change my mind again.”

“Thank you!” Jrum smiled and started pulling Grum away. Grum followed behind, though he still looked reluctant, so once they were in the air, Jrum looked back to his brother. “Oh come on, we’re not actually gonna go get them. We’re just going to say we couldn’t find them and since Daddy didn’t give us a second option, we’re just going on our own.”

Grum nodded. “Thanks.”

“Oh don’t worry! To be completely honest, I completely agree with Grifter about chickens right now and feel like I’ll strangle and turtles I see! I sort of don’t even want to see Professor Beaks any time soon!”

“Is that about the-”

“Yeah it’s about the flipping egg!”

“Sorry.” Grum apologized and Jrum made them land so they could hug each other.

“It’s fine. We already went over a bunch. Life sucked, but apparently that’s like… a family thing. I kinda want to give Daddy trauma though just to make it equal.”

“I think he has enough from dealing with us all.”

“Hmmmm you’re probably right. Okay let’s go scam Scar!”

The two of them eventually reached the shopping district and Aqua Town. It took a little bit of searching, but they eventually found the mayor. He already wasn’t the best and giving good prices for his land, but the fact that he was also up against two traumatized children, one of which he slightly feared, didn’t help his case. In the end, he got seven diamond blocks from the bots and Grum happily started building the new shop. 

Jrum went back and forth between the plot and Odea to figure out prices and stocking the place. He was glad to see Grum was happy, and then even more when he saw their dad flying their way. “Dad! Dad! Over here!” Grian heard Jrum and flew down, landing next to the bot. “Look! We’re making a new shop!”

“Oh really? What are you going to sell?” Grian responded, and Jrum had to keep from frowning. The tone of Grian’s voice sounded off. Jrum’s best guess was that something bad happened with whatever he had been doing and he was upset at that, but Jrum also couldn’t be sure.

“Well, it’s going to be a branch of Odea. I’m hoping that if we’ve got lots of people visiting that aren’t all amazing builders and redstoners like everyone here that they’ll want to buy Daddy’s designs! And since everything is moving to Aquway Town, we’re having a place here so it’ll get noticed!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea! And it looks like someone’s gotten really far with building already.” Grian looked up to where Grum was standing on the scaffolding, placing blocks down.

“Yeah! I’m glad he looks so happy! Oh! By the way! When you pick up Tommy, can you also ask if Michael and Fundy want to visit? I kinda said Fundy could and then I think Michael would like it too. If his parents have to come along, I wouldn’t mind. And they’re Tommy’s friends so that way he can have people visit too!”

Grian smiled sweetly. “Oh of course we can do that! I’m sure Xisuma would be fine with it all!”

“Yay! I can’t wait!”

“Welp, I’m going to go check on the rest of Aqua Town!” Grian said, starting to walk off. “I don’t want to get too far while I wait for Tommy’s message.”

“Yeah oka- wait. Dad, what did you call this place?” Jrum asked, catching that Grian used the real name of the area.

“Uh… well I better check on Barge Co.! Eep!” Grifter started to back up, but then jumped as an egg was thrown down next to him, followed by another, and then yet another. “AHH! It’s Poultry Man! Run away!!!”

Jrum looked up to see that the eggs had come from Grum, who quickly signalled a sorry to Jrum, which the bot quickly accepted. Grum ended up gliding down to join his brother and the both of them dealt with Grifter, somehow managing to send the helsmit back to Grian, unintentionally making their Dad groan as more paperwork appeared for him.

[dapandapod]

Lambert the lark

On Ao3 here! 

This one is for @mayastormborn, because singing Lambert and because Lambert looking very much indeed like Paul Bullion with his curly hair and fancy beard. I had fun.

Beware the swearing and actually rather filthy songs that Lambert likes. Oh and a surprise sentimental thing in the middle there.  It was supposed to be a 5+1 but writing is hard so it turned into a 4+1. Please enjoy!

1. The bar

Let it be known Lambert likes to sing. Let it be known that when Lambert is drunk, he sings very loud.

Most patrons of the tavern he favours in the little shit town Mulbrydale, they know.

Most people living close to the tavern know too. And all the horses in the stable behind the tavern.

Yes, it is known that Lambert likes to sing.

The poor bard entertaining for the night is looking rather exasperated, and there is a bet going on in the corner when the bard actually will just march out. Lambert couldn’t care less. Earlier that day he got paid for a job well done, a basilisk tormenting the locals' livestock decapitated and shoved into the eldermans face.

It was glorious.

So it only makes sense to have a glorious finish, beer foam stuck in his mustache and voice roaring louder that the poor blond lad trying to play his lute. How the fuck does the loud drunk ginger know every song?!

It takes another three tries at a ballad until the bard gives up. Or rather, explodes.

“IF YOU ARE SO KEEN ON SINGING WHY DON’T YOU TAKE THE FUCKING STAGE?!” He screams at Lambert.

Money changes hand in the corner, the bard storms out, and Lambert takes the stage.

Let it be known that Lambert loves Fishmongers Daughter and knows all 27 verses.

Let it be known Lambert still did a better job pissdrunk than the actual bard.

2. The bath

Hot springs are the best thing ever. Really, nothing is as good as settling in to one of the stone pools and soaking in the slightly-too-hot water. Best thing those fuckers funding Kaer Morhen back in the days ever did.

Lambert leans back against the stone, his angry orange locks curling even tighter in the steam. In the next pool over sits Jaskier and Eskel, Geralt is still wrestling with his towel by the wall.

“Hot springs are the best thing ever.” Lambert says, voicing his thoughts. If the moan from Jaskier is anything to go by, he agrees.

“Move over.” Geralt mutters after finally being defeated by the towel.

Lambert opens an eye to peer at him, then spreads his arms across the edge of the pool and closes his eyes again.

“Asshole.” Geralt says fondly, then proceeds to climb over Lambert to get down into the pool.

Stark naked.

Lucky Lambert wasn’t looking, because otherwise it wouldn’t have been Geralt calling Lambert names, but Geralt instead declaring what Lambert was seeing.

“Aaaasshoooooleee.” Lambert sings, his voice bouncing around the walls, giving it a rather otherworldly feel.

“Oooh, nice resonance! Do it again!” Jaskier sits up a little straighter.

Lambert smirks and peeks at a glaring Geralt who now is soaking too.

“Aaassshoooooooolee.” Lambert sings again, and Jaskier joins him, harmonizing. It sounds lovely, so they do it again and again, creating a little melody.

“Please.” Geralt huffs, but he is smiling.

“Nah, I rather like it.” Eskel says agreeably, and really, if Geralt dislikes it Lambert has to continue. Those are the rules.

They experiment a bit with tempo, making it canon, Lambert taking a really low note that Jaskier can only barely meet, and oh the discord of that note sounds great too.

“I'm going to steal your job.” Lambert declares to Jaskier, when they dry off. “Im going to get so much fucking coin.”

Jaskier only snorts.

“I would like to see you try.” He says, amused.

Oh, little bard, you just wait.

3. The night

Silence is different in the woods. Especially at night. The way that everything is asleep, even the trees quieter than in the day. The fire crackles merrily anyway, the wood popping and fizzing. Lambert is feeling a little forlorn, he sits close to the fire and stares at the flames, hugging his knees to his chest.

Aiden is half laying on his bedroll next to him, working on a leather braid for his saddlebags.

It is strange, Aiden is right there, but Lambert feels lonely.

Achingly alone, small among the giant trees, old in a world that forever is new.

His mother died long ago. But her voice comes to him, words half forgotten and a melody that reminds him of honey and of sleep. Before he realize it, its leaking out.

He is humming, a deep murmur in his chest. He can see Aiden look up at him from the corner of his eye, but he keeps his eyes on the flame. Idly he drags his chin back and forth on his freckled arm, letting his beard scratch and soothe him. The heat of the flames feels good, his back too cold in contrast.

“What is that song?” Aiden asks quietly, he, too, afraid to disturb the night.

Lambert finally looks over at him, the light dancing on his face, making his hair look like its own fire.

“I don’t really know. My mother sang it to me.” Lambert never speaks of her. But this is Aiden, and the world is sleeping, and he tastes honey.

“Will you sing it for me?” Aiden asks, of course he does. This is why Aiden is here.

The words are old, the language has long since changed. He sings of rolling hills and budding flowers, of rivers feeling lonely and luring travelers into their cold embrace. He wonders if that is how drowners came to be.

Aiden watches him all the while, the braid still in his hands. Lambert watches the fire, sings lowly into the night.

It feels good, singing her song to the darkness. It feels ever better when he stops and peeks through his locks at Aiden.

Aidens face is hard to read, but his actions are not.

“Get over here, wolf.”

With Aidens arms around him, with the taste of honey on his lips, the crackling of fire behind him, Lambert joins the forest in its slumber.

4. The fight

It’s raining, fuck, it’s pouring down. Thunder is rumbling ahead, the raindrops fat and absolutely much wetter than rain has any right to be. They are soaked, the drop bounce off the armor, the weapons get slippery in their grip, their hair sticks to their faces and necks.

Geralt hates it. As they fight the griffin, he grumbles and mutters.

Lambert thinks he is being dramatic, really, it’s just some water. (Though, to be fair, it’s easy to be positive when Geralt is so extremely cranky. If Lambert was alone, he would be just as miserable, if not worse.)

The griffin is very big, and very angry.

It swoops down from the sky, Lambert aims with a crossbow at it’s wings.

“One little griffin were going shopping in town” he sings, clenching one eye closed while aiming. The griffin flies right above him, his talons inches from where his head was just a moment ago. Lambert swirls around untroubled, and aims again.

“But there came a Lambert, and shot it down.” Water is dripping from his eyebrows, eyelashes, running down his cheeks, but it doesn’t matter.

The shot is clean, it hits the target and a loud shriek announces that the griffin felt it too.

“Stop that! You are just pissing it off!” Geralt yells from the other side of the field, ducking from said pissed off griffin. Lambert smirks, shoving his hair out of his face with the crook of his arm, water sloshing everywhere.

It is a small miracle that he still has a grip on the crossbow. They charge the now grounded griffin, splitting up to make things difficult for it.

“ONE LITTLE GRIFFIN IS FEELING FEELING A LITTLE CRANKY!” Lambert sings, or rather howls, swinging his sword in a tight arc, aiming for the griffins flank. From the other side of the beast, Lambert can hear Geralt harumph in annoyance. It’s fun to work with family.

“BUT THERE CAME A LAMBERT AND-” Here Lambert has to pause.

He even takes a step away, scratching at his wet beard thoughtfully. He turns and yells towards a small grove of trees.

“JASKIER?! WHAT THE FUCK RHYMES WITH CRANKY??”

“Lambert come on!” Geralt yells, and yes, alright, fair.

“OH, NEVER MIND! I GOT IT! BUT THERE CAME A LAMBERT, HE GOTTA HELP GERALT, OR AIDEN WON’T GIVE HIM HANKY PANKY!”

“Wow! A true poet!” Geralt yells again over the shriek of the Griffin. “Now come help me fucking kill it!”

+1 The competition

"You really think you are going to win this?” Jasier says, disbelief and amusement clear in his voice.

“I hope you are ready to pay for my new sword, bardling.” Lambert says with a confident grin. Jaskier shrugs, strapping on his lute.

“Your loss. You do remember I am a very famous bard and poet across the continent, and a very sought after professor at Oxenfurt?”

Lambert makes a very charming snorting sounds and waves it away.

“Work hard tonight, and don’t think of trying to cheat!” Lambert tells him, and waves Eskel and Jaskier goodbye.

They agreed that Geralt is too biased towards Jaskier, so Eskel would go with him while preforming and Geralt with Lambert, to make sure none of them is cheating.

As if Lambert would need to cheat.

They walk towards a rather shadylooking bar by the docks, another one of Lamberts favorites. More than one turn around and give a (semi)friendly nod when he enters. The two of them order their drink and settle down.

“Soooo, when are you gonna go about earning those coins?” Geralt asks, sipping on his tankard.

“As soon as the poor lad stops his wailing. Gotta give him a chance, don’t you think?” Lambert smiles, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

There is indeed a poor lad by the elevated area, trying to sing heroic ballads with an accompanying lyre. Talk about reading the crowd wrong.

As soon as the lad is sat in a corner drowning his lack of success in wine, Lambert rises and stretches.

“Alright, time to make good on this bet.” Lambert steps up and begins clapping his hands in a beat. A few patrons see what he is doing and humours him, so he adds the stomping. And proceeds to sing the filthiest song he knows.

Without going into details, it involves what a lady has under her skirt, and how she uses it when she is a lady with mighty needs. To put it nicely. It takes exactly one verse and one chorus before the coins start.

Lambert gives Geralt a victorious smile.

“Alright, how much did you get?” Lambert asks Jaskier. “I hope you won’t have to add too much from your own pocket, swords are rather expensive.”

“132 crowns and 36 ducats.” Jaskier says with a triumphant smile. “The fine ladies at the brothel where quite generous.”

“Where is Eskel?” Geralt asks, looking around.

“Oh, he found a lady with horns and decided to see if they were real.”

“Again? He really has a thing for succubuses, doesn’t he?” Geralt muses.

“Sure seems like it. So, Lambert, how did it go? How much?”

Jaskier won. Lambert blames it on the florence, being slightly less of value than the crown. He lost by three. THREE. Lambert is pissed and Jaskier laughs, but really, he is sweating big time. Lucky he dresses in layers, because fuck that was close. Jaskier declines every challenge there after.