#by the way if you ever are fired make sure you ask your employer why you are being fired

[hexmaniacchoco]

So, Target has decided to fire employees who purchase a Stanley cup. Yeah the same Stanley cups that have lead in them. Target's reasoning is that they violated a policy which doesn't allow employees to gain an "unfair advantage" over customers when it comes to purchasing limited items. Managers' reasoning for allowing employees to buy the cup is that it's a cup and why on Earth should people not be allowed to buy them. My opinion is scalping is bad and a problem that needs to be better addressed by companies. The solution is not to fire employees for buying limited items, even if they put one to the side for themselves to purchase after work. I think a much better solution is one we already use, which is the good old fashioned purchase limit paired with not making only like 1 of something per every hundred of people wanting it. You want to buy a few? Sure, maybe you're buying the others for friends or family or something who also like the thing. You want to buy 10? 50? The entire stock on display and all in the back? Absolutely not, sir madam or other.

Also if you're a Target employee who got fired, definitely make sure to file for unemployment and have the state investigate for unlawful termination. It might not be considered as such because it was a stupid policy but still a policy, but might as well find out and have them go after Target if it is. (And no, "at-will" does not mean that an employer can fire you for absolutely any reason. They just want you to think that so you don't bother to track conversations in written (text/e-mail/etc) form and have state labor departments investigate when you get fired and are applying for unemployment.)

#target #stanley cups #I not only would enjoy seeing a mass boycott of Target for this #I would also enjoy seeing it turn out that this is considered unlawful termination in many states #by the way unlawful termination is usually when you get fired because of someone's bigotry or you reported a problem with someone to HR #or your boss etc #but I'm hoping things like this are considered stupid enough to count as unlawful #by the way if you ever are fired make sure you ask your employer why you are being fired #they are legally required to tell you a reason I'm pretty sure #if they decide not to tell you you can take that e-mail/text and send it to your state's labor department while filing unemployment #and report the company for unlawful termination #if you spoke to them in person about why you were fired then no worries #just send a follow-up text or e-mail asking them to confirm what they said in the conversation #if they change it or say they don't have to tell you or ignore the e-mail/text you can also submit that to the labor department #also if they try to give you a reason that sounds like it would be legitimate just report them anyway if you suspect it #and still make sure to get everything you can in writing to send in #because the state labor department will still investigate the matter in a way intended to trip up companies trying to lie #oh and also if you suspect you will be fired soon always let the employer fire you #if they offer to let you resign or quit they are trying to avoid the state investigating them lol #and if they reduce your hours to try and force you to quit or stop calling you in to work you can report that too

[ghouljams]

Might I be so bold as to ask for more Viking Soap please? I loved your first writing of it :)

Sure! Like I said I think this is a slow burn like the knight!Ghost. There's no romance in this piece, but perhaps a sort of understanding, a key to a door that the reader might take it upon themselves to step through later.

As Soap said in the first piece, "courting later, business now."

“We camp here tonight,” Mactavish tells you after hours of walking. At some point he’d set you down to walk on your own two feet. When his scent had replaced the smoke and you’d stopped struggling against his hold you walked. Numb as you are, you’re sure if you couldn’t still see the fire burning in your mind’s eye your feet might hurt. 

“Camp?” You stare blankly at him, at the thick forest around you. Hardly a place you’d call proper camping.

“Ay,” He hardly spares you a glance, unhooking the ax from his waist, “You need sleep, it’ll help.”

You can’t imagine how it would. Closing your eyes feels like it’ll bring a curse upon you, what good is sleep when you’ll wake up to the same bleak reality? You’ll find yourself with the same company when morning comes.

“I didn’t realize the coast was so far,” You change the subject for yourself.

“It’s not,” He bounces his ax in his hand, looking at the trees around you. You’re slowing him down, you realize. “Clear some space for a fire,” He looks at you finally, his eyes pitying. You understand why he wouldn’t want to look at you if that’s what he’s thinking. He doesn’t give you time to respond before stalking off into the forest. 

Your mind reels with the potential for escape. He’s just left you, you could run, could find your way back to your home. What’s left of it. Maybe there were survivors. But he left you. Which makes you think he knows your best course of action is to stay. You’re smart enough to know what that means.

You have a decent clearing set up by the time he gets back. A shallow pit dug for the wood bundle in his arms. He nods in approval at the space, and sets the wood down on one side of the pit. He grabs a sturdy branch from the pile and drops to sit against a large tree with a grunt. You chew your thoughts before putting them into words. Watch his careful hands turn the wood over before setting the edge of his ax against the grain.

You settle yourself down across from him. You think it’s good to keep eyes on this man as long as you can. If you do sleep it won’t be deeply.

"You were a Mactavish,” you start, an olive branch, a similar plight, you hope. 

"Still am,” He tells you without looking up.

“You’re a viking,” you point out. The two don’t fit exactly in your mind.

“Ay, and a Mactavish,” He sniffs, “one’s a job, one’s a name. You’ll get used to it.”

“Used to what? Being kidnapped?” You watch him smile down at his work. His laughter is evident even without the sound.

“Used to being employed,” He chuckles. You don’t find it funny. This “employment” has already cost you everything you ever held dear. Friends, family, a home, taken from you for nothing. You can’t even hope to exact your revenge on the man who stole you away from it. You have nothing but your grief, and the tears that you’ve been too numb to shed.

You keep your silence. Fumbling through the dark without a guide forward. What can you do but stay quiet. It’s what you’re supposed to do after all. Quiet, docile, kept for your wits and quick hands not your mouth. 

If this man wants a healer he’ll have to wait for you to gather supplies, everything you had is gone. You close your eyes and see flames, see your family’s faces screaming out in agony. Sleep, how could you ever sleep again? 

“Who were they?” You ask, the three words are harder to get out than anything you’ve ever said. Yet there are still more words you can’t say, the clarifiers that you don’t want to acknowledge. The ones that burned my family, you don’t say. You said they weren’t your men, then how do you know them? You don’t ask. 

“Only know one group that burns healers,” Soap tells you, you scrub at the sand that stings your eyes, “calls them witches to justify it, but there’s no honor in killing those that can’t fight back.” There’s a bitterness in his voice that you haven’t heard before. You hug your earasaid around your shoulders. Your mother’s familiar scent surrounding you, it’s not the comfort you hoped it would be.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” You pull your knees to your chest, watching Soap carve careful curls of wood into a stick. His eyes are hard on his work. You don’t expect this man to be open with you, to spill his heart to you. You don’t expect humanity from him.

“We survive,” He mumbles, “for the ones that didn’t.” 

You feel his grief catch in your chest, and mix itself with your own. Unsaid words, unlived lives. You bury yourself in familiar cloth so he doesn’t see your tears. It’s silly to cry for someone else, when you have so many tears for yourself. It saves time, you suppose, to cry for many things at one time. 

We survive, you tell yourself.

#cod x reader #x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x you #soap x reader #viking!soap #medieval au #Soap really wishing he could comfort poor reader but also what can he do? #they have places to be and not much time #gotta get the fuck outta dodge before anyone comes after them

[kimium]

Tell us about your favourite ship/ships for Leona Kingscholar👀

Hi friend! Thanks so much for asking me this! I'm always excited to write about my Twisted Wonderland ships. I'm ranking them based on my silly little categories, so don't take this too serious.

Let's get started!

My favourite ships with Leona Kingscholar (Twisted Wonderland)

I Really Like These Ships

Leona/Malleus

This was actually my first Twisted Wonderland ship. When you start the game you pick a dorm and a character within it. I went with Diasomnia and Malleus as Maleficent is my favourite Disney villain (mostly due to her role in Kingdom Hearts). Thus, Malleus's ceremonial robe vignette was the first one I saw. In it, Malleus's robes are accidentally swapped with Leona's when picked up from being cleaned. The second half of the vignette shows that they have a rather antagonistic relationship with one another. It's a dynamic I instantly liked and I immediately shipped them.

Later, when I played through Book Two I started to see how Leona and Malleus are foils to one another. Their contrast between Malleus crown prince and Leona the second prince with an inferiority complex compelled me. I want to see more of their interactions with one another and if those interactions end up with some unresolved sexual tension, so be it.

Leona/Ruggie

I'll admit, I didn't like this one for a while. Mostly because my favourite dynamic between prince and attendant (Ruggie is an attendant in many ways) is loyalty. Ruggie is loyal to Leona, but it's closer to an employee/employer loyalty. That being said, I understand that both have trouble being honest about their feelings (Leona with his inferiority complex and tsundere attitude. Ruggie who has to survive with his own wits and cunning.). I can see them growing closer, talking their feelings out privately, and getting together. Though, my favourite dynamic between them is Leona "Actually Ruggie is MINE and I May Not Flaunt it Publicly, but if ANYONE Tries to Take Him From Me, They're Toast" Kingscholar. A little possessiveness dashed into the ship is a 10/10 for me.

I think these ships are Fun

Leona/Jack

Look, I am always a little weak to a ship where one looked up to one another, found out they weren't 100% what they thought, and instead of being disappointed frowned, grabbed the other by the shirt and said "I know you can be better so I'm going to MAKE SURE you live up to that potential." I love the idea of Jack's eager persistence and values of hard work and determination lighting a fire under Leona. I love that Jack sees Leona for who he can be and doesn't care about any of the extra "weight" Leona feels he carries. I love the idea of Jack seeing so much good and potential in Leona that it makes Leona want to live up to Jack's ideals.

Leona/Vil

Like with Malleus, Leona and Vil are a fun ship because they're character foils. Leona is a lazy genius who, besides the throne, has everything he could ever want but is crippled by his inferiority complex. Vil, who is brilliant, smart, and worked hard to get himself where he wants, also suffers an inferiority complex. Leona turns to apathy to escape the burning, twisting pain of always being compared to Farena. Vil turns to jealousy, consistently and silently comparing himself to Neige, putting a mask of success and glamour over his fear of always being second best. I think these two could learn a lot from one another and grow from their similarities and differences.

The only reason why this ship is lower on my list is because I'm absolute Rook/Vil trash. Though, I am not opposed to a threesome between Leona/Rook/Vil.

Cute Concept, I see where people are coming from

Leona/Idia

To me this is a ship of "opposites attract". Leona is very confident in his powers, abilities, and skills (when his inferiority complex related to Farena isn't in the way). He's not afraid of being in the spotlight and if people are pissed off at him, Leona will not back down from beating the shit out of them. Leona is also a natural born leader, even if he employs "tough love" methods.

On the other side we have Idia who when not behind a screen is an introvert and awkward with people. Yes, he's also talented and a genius but Idia's confidence and people skills only come out when he's in his element.

My favourite way of seeing them get together is having them play chess. I know at first Idia would try to escape playing with Leona, terrified to be in the same room but as he grows comfortable Idia's talking smack as they play. Sure, some of his terms fly over Leona's head (Idia cannot turn off the gamer terminology) but I bet he's ecstatic that Idia's not backing down from the challenge.

But Do I Ship Yuu with Leona?

Yes, I do. Leona was my first SSR for both dorm and event card (Fairy Tale Gala) so he has always held a special place in my heart. I also think Yuu's first encounter with Leona is hysterical. I love the idea that Yuu is not afraid of Leona simply because they have NO CLUE who he is. This lack of fear is refreshing to Leona who after realizing it's not bravado, that Yuu truly isn't afraid of him, is hooked. It will take Leona a while to figure out that he -likes- Yuu but a little bit of jealousy and possessiveness would probably rear its head within Leona eventually. Yuu's -his- herbivore, damn it.

And there you have it, friend! I hope you like my answers!! Feel free to let me know which are your favourite Leona ships!

#personal #replies #twisted wonderland #favourite ships

[pvthfinder]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @streetkid-named-desire Tagging: UH... I'll have to see who's open to sharing their WIPs, but if you are, consider this your call.

I started writing this months ago and it's been sitting in Google docs ever since. It was never really going to be a finished piece, but I wrote it to start getting Sif's 2077 voice (and cyberware) down. Just a little peek into a moment in time when she was picking up jobs, trying to get her foot in the door in Night City. The woman she's working with needs to be fleshed out but I'd like to make her a recurring character.

—

"Do you even have iron?"

Sif gave a mildly insulted look at the question. In this city? But she shrugged, her head bobbing back and forth in a non-committal way. "What do I look like? I've got a li'l .45 that does the job."

"Let's see it", her tablemate said over her coffee. Ringed fingers tapped the foam cup, and Sif forced a huff as she leaned back to reach into her jacket. The hell did it matter what she was packing?

More than she knew, apparently. What she set on the table nearly made the woman spit, but she managed to swallow in time for an exasperated laugh-turned-sigh.

Sif rolled her eyes and leaned further back into her seat. Sure, the old Unity was worn, had some obvious replacement parts, and looked as humble as the price it would fetch on the secondhand market, but it fired. Most of the time.

"Look, I know it ain't much but it's better than nothin'—"

"Oh, honey, this is nothin'." A delicate hand scooped the pistol off the table and turned it, brow rising as she felt its weight. "This is one jam away from a paperweight. Is it even loaded?"

Sif threw her hands up. "Ammo's more expensive here."

"It's Night City. Everything's more expensive," the woman chided, gently setting the pistol down and sliding it back across the table. "I— look."

She was the one to let go of a deep breath this time. "I have an op that I want to make sure goes smoothly, and that means having the right people with the right equipment. It's not personal."

"Didn't take it that way. This..." Sif picked up her gun, wiggling between her fingers before tucking it away in her jacket, "...is just what comes with startin' from the bottom."

She picked up her bottle, ready to leave the conversation there and wave this all off as wasted time. But something kept her from taking that last sip. A question that nagged at her from the back of her head. The same spot where instinct used to sleep like an old hound before she drowned it.

"I didn't peg y' fer someone interested in a charity case, so why do I get the feelin' that it's less about the iron and more about the person aimin' it?"

"Because it always is. I need an unknown face and you need the eds. Supply and demand." The woman stared out the window for a moment, the slightest twinge of a smirk on her lips, before turning back to look at Sif fully. "And you're right. I'm not known for charity, but I do make... investments."

Sif sat up a little straighter. "You know I can't pay."

"Well aware. So I'll make a deal with you instead." Her painted fingers clasped at the paper coffee cup, glint of silver rings out of place against the kitschy, hazard yellow Capitan Caliente logo. "You'll get to take a peek at my arsenal. Anything under a market value of three K is yours—within reason, of course. In return, you'll owe me a little favor."

Sif listened with an even expression, but her tone was wary. "Hopefully a three K favor."

An honest laugh. The first Sif had heard from her, even if it was barely a breath. "It'll be proportionate, don't worry."

"Let's say I agree. Then I've got a question for you," Sif fired back. Her would-be employer gestured for her to ask away. "Why me? Why some untested newcomer? There's other drivers, so I can only assume y' saw somethin' about me 'piques yer interest. And if I'da guess… it's my service record and the chrome that came with it."

The woman paused for a blink, then a smile broke on her face. "That's a bit conspiratorial, but… not wholly untrue either. I mean, I told you I need an unknown, and we both know you're not untested. You've got the record to back that up, but the 'ware is a bonus. What's installed?"

"Optics with variable magnification up to twenty times and compatible targeting soft, nanocarbon subdermal armor over my squishy bits, limb stabilization… those are the big ones." Sif listed them easily. "Not recent market stuff, but military grade. Still works. All tuned to long-range, high caliber work."

"You're a sniper." The woman sounded mildly surprised.

"Was," Sif corrected. "Stuff served me better as a scout fer my old clan than it did in the war. But before you start drafting up contracts, I don't do wetwork and I fall asleep on watch duty. I'm a driver, not a marksman."

"I'll keep it in mind," the woman mused in a tone that belied a reassessment. "But seriously, ditch the Unity."

"Oh my god," Sif grumbled into her bottle.

#wip wednesday

[psychic-refugee]

Thanks to the Anon on @heyharoldsboo 's page who gave me a shout out. Sorry I don’t do Anon Asks, frankly I don’t believe in anons. I barely believe in people who have fully developed blogs that have been operating for years. People curate and create online personas, myself included. It’s smart to not put your real life online. So, I take everything I see and hear on the internet with a grain of salt.

I do very much believe in protecting my peace, however. I’ve seen way too many people get brave behind the anon feature and just go absolutely vile.

As much as I know some anons are sweet and well meaning, “I won’t set myself on fire to keep you warm.” Tumblr and writing are a hobby, my mental health is the biggest source of wealth for me. I’m going to protect it at all costs.

My other justification is that Tumblr is free, it doesn’t cost anything to create a blog and to do the minimal work to make it not look like a porn bot. People can create a blog and ask me things that way if they really wanted to.

Sorry if a newcomer with an empty blog has tried to follow me, I’m pretty heavy handed with the block feature if I presume you’re a porn bot.

I do appreciate the thoughts and shout out.

So, lets talk about Cease and Desist letters. They mean nothing. lol That’s the long and short of it. They’re used as an intimidation tactic. Sometimes the threat of a lawsuit is enough to get the recipient to back down. It’s part of legal theatre.

They are not legally binding on either the sender or the recipient. If the accusers got anything, they could wipe their butts with it for all that it technically matters. You can write as many demands as you want, the recipients have the choice to ignore it. Most firms send it as an extra-judicial way of hopefully avoiding litigation. Why litigate for thousands upon thousands of Can$ if they can just send a warning shot? Sometimes, C&Ds are bluffs. Now, most people would take threats of legal action seriously, but given the accusers’ erratic behavior and immaturity they’ve shown thus far, they could also just as easily dismiss it as a joke.

It’s probably true that they do not have the money for attorneys. By that same logic, they do not have the money to make a suit worth it on PHW’s end. Will he really spend that much money on principals? Not sure a C&D is worth the time and money either.

If they say they haven’t gotten anything, I’m more inclined to believe them.

One anon made a good point regarding addresses. PHW’s representation might be having a hard time locating these women. Assuming he hasn’t spoken to them since high school, we’re talking at least three years. That’s plenty of time to have moved to a bunch of places if they don’t have steady employment. Did they go to university? Are they still in university? Could they be staying with a friend and don’t have a legal address? Could they still list their parents house while they’re living somewhere else?

So far, they’ve done PHW’s legal case more of a favor by continuing to post rather than to go dark. Given how toothless C&Ds are, it’s not worth the billable hours or fancy heavy stock letterhead to write one IMO, plus on top of hiring someone to find them.

I also see these women as being petty enough to have posted the letters if they got them. It’s not illegal to show a letter you’ve gotten. It’s their letter, if they show they got one, then they’re just stating facts. There’s no implied or enforceable gag order on not revealing they got a C&D.

His legal team may not want to prematurely reveal themselves either. Given how volatile Twitter and Tumblr could be, I wouldn’t want to expose my firm to trolls.

C&Ds aren’t required either. If I was going to sue, which they may still be considering at this stage, then I would just serve them an actual complaint. I don’t think a C&D is worth it at this stage if ever.

#percy hynes white

[admhawthorne]

He cackled in delight as he threw Mary into her cell. “Now we wait for PolyChromatic Man to come save you, and, once he arrives…”

“Yes, we’ve done this before, Steven,” Mary cut in as she plopped down in her usual spot in the cell. “You have some big, bad and ‘unbeatable’ way to finally kill PCM, he’ll show up, and, after you give your villain soliloquy about how this is it for PCM, he’ll find a quick way to stop you, and we’ll all end up where we always do: you’re arrested but escape before the police can get you in the squad car, PCM is the top headline, and I’m at work trying to explain why I missed my shift again. Honestly, can we just not this time because my employer is super close to firing me over your abductions.”

“First of all, my name is Dr. Vile, and you will address me as such,” he yelled from across his twisted laboratory filled with dangerous weapons of destruction and mayhem.

She rolled her eyes and slouched down more in her chair. “It’s Steven. I know it’s Steven, and you know I know it’s Steven. I’ve known for years now, because we grew up together. For God’s sake, Steve, you and Doug were at my house last week to play boardgames.”

“That… we both agreed we wouldn’t talk about that when I’m at my day job,” Vile said as he glanced around to make sure none of his minions had heard her. “Besides, I have well earned my moniker, and you will respect it,” he demanded as he began the finishing touches on his machine to finally end PCM’s life.

“Earned it?” Mary actually guffawed. “How?!”

“How?” He stared down at her from his position in the room, incensed that she could even ask such a thing. “What do you mean ‘how’?! I’m the foremost villain in the world! The amount of death and destruction I’ve wrought is unparalleled. Whole countries have bowed to my whims over the years! I’m a…”

“An idiot,” Mary finished with a sigh. “Tell me this, Dr. Whatever. Why do you keep using me as bait for PCM?”

“You can’t be serious,” he replied, coming down from his platform to stand in front of her cell. “You’re the perfect bait. What superhero would ever pass on saving their beloved girlfriend?”

“Look,” Mary sat up in her chair, shaking her head at him in disappointment, “I’m not his girlfriend, okay? So, if you’re looking for bait, could you not use me anymore because my job…”

“Don’t try to trick me, woman! It is clear you are, in fact, his love interest. The amount of time he spends with you is…”

“Not half as much as he spends with his ACTUAL love interest,” she cut back in, rolling her eyes and standing to walk around her cell. “You watch him so much; who does he actually spend most of his free time with? Hmm? It’s not ME; I can tell you that right now.”

Vile quietly thought it over for a moment, his mind running through the vast catalog of knowledge he had regarding the hero. “Well, outside of you, it’s me.”

She stopped pacing and turned to stare him down. “Do you know what polychromatic means?”

He balked. “Of course, I do; don’t be absurd. It means multicolored.”

“Right, multicolored, like a rainbow. You know,” she made giant hand gestures, “a rainbow? A rainbow, Steven, and,” she tapped the glass of her cell for emphasis, “has it ever occurred to you that my best friend, aka YOUR boyfriend, Doug, is the guy who spends the most time with me?”

“Well, of course he is. You’re not dating anyone right now, and you’re Doug’s best friend. Why wouldn’t you two spend a lot of time together when he’s not at work or with me?” Vile rolled his eyes at the obviousness of her observation.

“Yeah, right, EXACTLY.” Again, she shook her head at him. “And have you ever noticed anything about PCM that you find even remotely familiar?”

Again, Vile stood and really thought about. “Well, his mask hides his face pretty well, but I have noticed his eyes are the same color as Doug’s, and, now that I’m thinking about it, he’s Doug’s height as well. In fact, he walks a lot like Doug, and he sounds a lot like Doug. Actually,” Vile frowned in thought, “there’s a lot of similarities between Dough and PC… OH MY GOD, DOUG IS POLYCHROMATIC MAN.”

“He’s a 10, but he doesn’t know he’s married to his own arch nemesis,” Mary snarked. “So, can you two, you know, go to couples counseling or something? I’m serious. If you abduct me one more time, I’m going to lose my job, and then I’m coming for your head. I mean it, Steven.”

Absently, Vile nodded okay as he blindly reached for the door release to Mary’s cell just as PCM busted through an exterior wall. “You won’t get away with this, Dr. Vile,” he shouted as he looked for Mary.

Stepping calmly out of her cell, Mary held up a hand, “I’m good, Doug. In fact, I’m leaving. You two can do whatever.”

“Doug!” PCM blanched at his secret identity being revealed to his mortal enemy. “I don’t know who…”

“Shut up, Doug,” Vile called out as he turned to face the flying hero. Reaching up, he unclipped his mask and pulled it from his face, revealing his own secret identity. “Just… just sit down, and I’ll grab some coffee so we can talk,” he said with defeat lacing his voice.

The last thing Mary heard as she walked out of the room was Doug’s shocked voice bellowing though the laboratory, “STEVEN?!”

#admhawthorne #redditwritingprompt

[funnuraba]

What Is Baxter's Deal:

Here is My Take. It's hard to find info about private secretaries to the nobility in the 1920s, but from what I can tell based on the books + research: this is a job for the upper class or upper middle class. For Drones Club candidates, someone like Hugo Carmody or Monty Bodkin (Hugo functionally has no money but is in line for property; Monty is rich, rich, rich) it's a way to kill time or keep the wolf from the door while you wait for your ship to come in. It's also a young man's game. For Baxter, it's most likely a mere stepping stone in his overall career: a way to gather experience and make connections. So he's upper middle class and would have gone to a good boarding school; his father would work for a living, but at a very good job. Baxter's snobbishness is therefore not secondhand as it would be for someone of the middle-middle class; he's a social climber extraordinaire, but he's high up himself.

At Blandings he occupies an odd position. He works for the family, so technically he's only one step above the servants, but he's entitled to eat with the family, and other secretaries are free to mingle with guests and family members without offending anyone but Lady Constance. After he's fired, however, Baxter is absolutely high-class enough to be invited back as a guest with a nice room in Summer Lightning. This meshes with his attitude towards Polly in the shortened Uncle Fred in the Springtime: she is lower class, therefore that's his only opinion of her. No matter how pretty and pleasant she may be, she is unsuitable, and so he does not consider her pretty or pleasant even after spending weeks taking dancing lessons from her.

So why no Baxtance? Baxter is of a class the Threepwood girls are presumably willing to marry; Lady Constance adores him rather immoderately; we learn in A Pelican At Blandings that she's had a romance in the past with one of her father's secretaries. Why is the possibility that she loves him never even mentioned? A) Because she, not he, is the older party and B) he ain't got the money, honey. Lady Constance marries rich. She and her sisters prioritize money over class, so long as the class is at least upper-middle. She never would have considered doing more than flirting with her father's secretary Bertie Weaver (yes, his actual name; the anecdote pops up like a bombshell in A Pelican At Blandings).

This is about Millicent and Hugo; in this conversation, it seems almost bizarre that Millicent doesn't ask her aunt, "So would you like me to marry this wonderful Mr. Baxter instead?" But that's not a possibility Lady Constance would ever be pushing, because while she'd surely agree that Mr. Baxter has an amazing future ahead of him, he doesn't have money, therefore marrying him is so unthinkable that it's never brought up at any point in the series. In Summer Lightning she treats him almost like a eunuch attendant: taking him to the station to greet pretty, rich young girls whom she wants to marry her nephew, then asking Baxter to show her the rose gardens as if there's no chance he might develop an interest in this girl himself--which he has! She seems to see him as so incredibly proper, and wonderful, and obsessed with his employers, that he literally could not want to marry an heiress, because people with money are the rightful hunting grounds of her own class. (Incidentally, Baxter seems to be aware of this, since he takes pains to avoid telling her about his letter to "Miss Schoonmaker". Either he doesn't want her know how frankly he criticized Lord Emsworth, or he wants to clinch the deal before Lady Constance finds out, probably feeling that she won't approve of him making such a beeline for a young lady she's chaperoning.)

Pigs Have Wings suggests that she would have disapproved of Baxter courting the false Miss Schoonmaker solely due to his position as an employee, but it's hard to tell, since her opposition to Hugo never mentioned his job, and, shockingly, in A Pelican At Blandings, she casually admits to a youthful flirtation of her own with one of her father's secretaries.

We don't know Baxter's exact career goals; they may well be political, as Mustard Pott remarks in the shortened UFitS that he could be Prime Minister someday, and a similar statement is made about another secretary in Sunset At Blandings. The highest ambition we see Baxter express is "man of affairs" for the Duke of Dunstable; as far as I can tell this is just the guy who handles absolutely everything, and dukes are the highest you can get in the peerage, making this a great position. At the very least, a private secretary to the nobility could later pursue an ambitious political career. So someday he might be a suitable match, but not right now.

If he and Lady Constance were to get married simply because they love each other, on the other hand, that's a great story and a great way to end their characters--but it does in fact end their characters for Wodehouse's purposes. They're needed in the role of stock characters who come back playing the same role. It would take seismic character shifts, and writing that's more serious than funny, to get them together. (It could also be done by the usual Wodehouse method of "Baxter almost drowns/gets hit by a car/shot point blank and Lady Constance falls upon his chest weeping", but again: would end their characters.)

Them getting together would also turn Lady Constance into a massive hypocrite, not just in that story but retroactively across every story she's ever been in, trying to prevent other people from making unsuitable marriages. As it is, she at least sticks to her principles. And, frankly, even if there was a big to-do in this theoretical Baxtance book about how she was just now falling in love with him... it would be impossible to believe that she wasn't in love with him ever since Leave it to Psmith, at which point she was happily married to Joe Keeble. I don't think Wodehouse wanted to do that to her.

And finally: Wodehouse kept writing Blandings stories until his death in 1972. Why did Baxter vanish after 1939? Well, there was nowhere new to take him. Once we've seen him move on from Blandings and work for a Duke, there's no way he'd be willing to settle for an Earl again. The only things left to do with him are have him change occupations, or marry Lady Constance. Baxter's role from his inception has been the overweening secretary who does not have the power he pretends to; if he moves any higher, then he gains actual authority and is no longer useful as a comedic archetype. Ditto for having him become Lord Emsworth's brother in law, married to an independently wealthy woman who couldn't be kept out of Blandings with barbed wire. Too much power, too much of a change.

So, he's left up in the air after Uncle Fred's visit to Blandings, and next mentioned much later as working in America for an unnamed millionaire. IMO this is probably Jevons, who's shown a willingness to take him back and would have been a welcome relief after the Duke of Dunstable, who, let's be honest, definitely fired him 5 minutes after UFitS ended. So much so that Baxter was willing to travel to America, which was his previous sticking point that made him quit again.

#blandings castle #wodehouse #Baxtance

[countessofravenclaw]

¿Puede la ondulación cambiar una marea? part four

Have you ever imagined what would happen if instead of of making Ambar Sol, Sharon would have aproached her problem with more level-headedness? What if, instead of throwing her daughter's life into a curve she just fires the Valentes, in hopes that they go back to Mexico and never find out the truth? Well, it was never going to be that easy, "everything you want you can achieve" being the family motto and all the for the Valentes after all. Monica and Miguel, could easily find another job, and so they do, with another family. A family that ends up being a bit of a surprise for Luna and all her friends

“Papa.” Sharon walked into the Mansion’s living room. Her father had been on the phone and sounded very suspicious. She didn’t like secrets in her house. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” Alfredo shrugged, “One of my friends—”

Alfredo, as a man in his eighties wasn’t the most versed in technology, like for example his fancy smartphone was way too big for him. That was an important note, because he just happened to clumsily drop his phone at that very moment. 

“What is that?” Sharon asked as the phone landed on the carpet, the screen facing them. The screen read that the phone had just ended a call from…

“Why does that read Luna? Are you talking to the Valentes?”

“I still don’t agree with what you did to them.” Alfredo responded. 

“You’re not allowed to have any affairs with people dismissed from this house,” Sharon raised her voice. 

“Why not?” Alfredo countered, “I wanted to know where they had settled, that they were doing well.”

“I don’t trust their new employers,” Sharon continued with her frosty tone, “So I don’t trust the Valentes anymore either. I don’t want to hear anyone having contact with them.” 

“Icka, I sometimes do not understand you.”

“Mrs. Benson?” Rey walked into the living room after Alfredo had gone to the kitchen huffing and puffing.

“My father has found the Valentes and is in contact with them,” Sharon breathed out. “It needs to be stopped now.”

“So?” Rey fiddled with his watch. 

“I don’t pay you for just standing around!” Sharon yelled at him, “We need to act now!”

“You do realize right that what you want to do is very risky and will take a while to put into effect…?”

“Well, then I suggest you start working on it,” Sharon commanded Rey, “Luna needs to be finished. The Peridas can’t protect her forever, and after this, they will regret that they even tried.”

***

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” Nina complained to Luna as they walked along the Blake hallways. “He isn’t talking to me. I can’t stand it much longer.” 

“Gastón will forgive you,” Luna placed her hand on her shoulder, “You didn’t mean any harm. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Matter of time when?” Nina sniffled slightly, “I need to accept that I’ve lost him…forever. He won’t come around.”

“We need to take another trip to the land of optimism,” Luna drew an imaginary rainbow on her outstretched arm. “The competition is coming up and I have been so busy, we haven’t had a slumber party in a while.”

“I guess so,” Nina laughed lightly.

“Great!” Luna jumped up, “You are coming to mine after practice.”

“Yours?” Nina stopped on her tracks suddenly. 

“Yeah,” Luna turned to look at her, “I’ll text Mom to make a batch of those cookies—What?” She had seen Nina’s face. 

“I just…” She looked down, “Your place… It’s Gastón’s house.” 

“So what?”

“I don’t think I should—” Nina continued, “—I mean, I don’t think I’ll be welcomed there.”

“He doesn’t need to know that you’re there,” Luna seemed quite unbothered, “We’ll be at the cellar, in my room. You won’t even know the difference.”

“I guess so.”

***

Gastón blew air out of his mouth as he stared at his computer screen. He should be making progress… In what, he wasn’t sure, but he should be doing something. 

But right now, he was getting nothing done. 

He stared at the screen so intently that he did not notice how the door was being opened and closed. 

“Ah!” he jumped on his chair as he was being tapped on his shoulder, “Dad? What the hell, don’t you know how to knock?”

“Were you doing something that would have required a warning?” Marco raised his eyebrow at him.

“No,” Gastón shook his head, “But you might have heard of common courtesy? What are you doing here anyway, it’s not dinner yet… right?”

“No,” Marco shook his head, “I just thought you might wanna talk.”

“About what?” Gastón turned his chair around as he watched his dad sit down on his bed. 

“You tell me.” 

“I literally have no idea.” Gastón answered. Mom was a master at reading people, but Dad was pretty good at it too. He hadn’t ever been the best at getting anything past them. 

“You sure about that?” His dad crossed his arms, looking at him pretty unconvinced. “Because you have seemed pretty upset the past couple of weeks.”

“I have?” 

“You don’t notice yourself that you slur your Ds?” Marco looked at Gastón, “You do that when you are angry or sad—ever since you have learned to talk.” 

“And we’re nitpicking the accent now?” Gastón rolled his eyes slightly. “Well, I’m happy that me getting in trouble in English class is working for you.” 

“That's not what I meant,” Gastón felt his father’s eyes almost pierce him. “Something is clearly bothering you.”

Gastón looked down for a moment. He hadn’t really prepared to talk about the situation with anyone else than Matteo, so he didn’t really know how it should be phrased. 

“If it is about the Universities—” His dad continued, “—no one is going to force you to do anything.”

“No?” Gastón decided to raise an eyebrow. 

“Of course not,” Dad looked very serious, “Obviously, we want to help you and we have some thoughts on what would be good for you… and we’re adults which you aren’t quite yet, but at the end of the day it is your choice. We are not going to contest that—as long as you don’t decide to attend the University of Cordoba, that is.”

“You two really don’t hold any love for your alma mater?” Gastón laughed lightly. 

“The best thing that happened there was meeting your mother. Everything else was a necessary evil. Got us where we wanted to go and we made it work, but we didn’t have a choice. We couldn’t afford a choice. You have all the choices—that’s what we always strived to give you—not just for economic reasons, but also because you are extremely smart.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“Because it’s true, but this isn’t what’s wrong, is it?” 

“No.” Gastón sighed. For people who were workaholics, and sometimes it had felt like they were never around, his parents knew him extremely well. “It’s pretty complicated, you know…”

“I’m just asking, because it hasn’t seemed like Nina has been around in the past couple of weeks.”

“Uhm,” Gastón knew that his face was giving pretty much everything away at that moment, “We…we haven’t broken up…exactly. It’s just… It’s complicated.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“How can you help?” Gastón shook his head. 

“I married your mother,” Marco looked at Gastón, “I think I know a thing or two.”

“Really,” Gastón raised his eyebrow again, “Didn’t she basically force you to propose when you were trying to break it off? I have never understood how that actually worked out.”

“That is not what happened,” Gastón watched his dad shake his head, “She was the sensible one who stopped me from ruining my life. Your grandmother had just died, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” 

“Oh, right. That was that…” Gastón stopped for a moment, “Sorry.”

“Well, that was twenty years ago. Now tell me what’s going on now.” 

“I guess the best way to say it is that we’re in a fight,” Gastón started. He couldn’t tell his parents what Nina had done… Identity fraud was illegal, and they would have her to court so fast. He couldn’t let that happen to her, even after everything, he still l— “She did something that I am not sure I can forgive.”

“Like what?”

“It is hard to explain,” Gastón sighed, “Nothing dangerous or anything like that… It’s between us, so it’s better that you don’t know but… It was something that made me wonder if I can trust her.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

“I don’t know,” Gastón shook his head and sighed exasperatedly. “I—I hate that I don’t know. I don’t want to be away from her, because I love her. It’s eating me alive but…” He looked up for a moment, “It’s probably stupid for me to say that or something...” 

“It is not stupid—” Marco started speaking, “—or surprising. Obviously, I don’t know the full story here, and you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s your decision how you want to handle it.”

“What am I supposed to decide?” 

“It probably comes down to if you think you would be able to work through this and are you able to forgive her. You are both smart, but also young and make mistakes. She probably didn’t mean to hurt you on purpose.”

“She didn’t.”

“This will sound like a cliche, but you’ll know what to do if you listen to your heart. You have never seemed happier than you have been in the past months. You can’t get over somebody if you don’t want to.”

***

“I mean I am so excited for the competition, but also like super nervous. I am nervous and excited, nerviced!” Luna flobbed down on her bed, “I don’t know, but I feel like Juliana will come around. she’ll have to at least once we win.”

“Let's hope so,” Nina nodded as she was sitting on the floor. The clock was nearing 11 pm and they had spent the night watching few movies and then Luna had wanted to try—and fail—to braid Nina’s hair. The first hour had been spent by trying, and another went by while they had untangled the coil Luna had made. 

It had been fun, Nina had to admit that but… She couldn’t fully enjoy everything because she just couldn’t shake everything that was weighing her down. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t ignore the fact that they were in Gastón’s house. She didn’t like to be there without his knowledge and couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he was doing on the floors above them. He probably wouldn’t want to know that she was there, though. 

“You okay?” Nina was shaken out of her thoughts by Luna’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nina nodded. She didn’t want to be a downer when Luna was so excited, “It’s just getting late.”

“Yeee….eepp,” Luna suddenly yawned a big yawn, “Wow, the training must have really gotten to me.” Luna shook her head, “So, wanna watch another movie? I need another romantic comedy right now.”

“Sure,” Nina nodded. Maybe the distraction that the stupid movies provided was just what she needed, “I’ll just grab some water first.”

“Okay,” Luna nodded, and Nina walked out of her room and to the small living room/kitchenette. It was small, but nice, given that renovations were recently new. Isla and Marco never did projects halfway. For example, all the tap water was completely drinkable. 

“So, what did you have in mi…?” She asked as she walked back into Luna’s room. Luna on the other hand was lying on her bed, mouth open, eyes closed and dead asleep. 

Nina had a chuckle for a moment. Of course. Luna had a miraculous gift for falling asleep whenever, wherever. Nina had heard a thousand times how Luna had fallen asleep with her skates on. And it was quite late, and it wasn't the weekend after all, so maybe Luna had the right idea. Sleeping was a good idea. She should go to sleep too…

…she couldn’t do this. Nina realized it very quickly. Why had she pretended that she could have? She had been sleeping so badly after Gastón had gotten mad at her. So obviously she wouldn’t be able to sleep while IN HIS HOUSE!!!

Only one thing was swirling around in her mind…

“I know you don’t want to see me and that I shouldn’t even be here.” Nina started as soon as she pushed the door open. She didn’t know how she had gotten there or what had gotten into her, but…but she just couldn’t do it. She had to go talk to Gastón, so that’s exactly what she was doing, at midnight, showing up in his room with zero warning. This was going to go well. “But I have to do this.”

The room was dark, so she couldn’t see him, but she could hear shifting around and he probably shot up from hearing her voice. This was probably one of the most daring things she had ever done, and this could go so many different ways. 

“I have been here with Luna, I didn’t break in,” Nina continued… She had one shot of this, “I know you don’t wanna talk to me, and you don’t have to, but please hear me out.” 

She got no answer, so she took it as a yes or something like it… so she continued. 

“I—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore…” Words suddenly started getting stuck on her throat…this was going well. “I know that I messed up, and I never should have gone even near to the applications. I should have respected your own decisions. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I am supposed to say or do for you to forgive me because… that’s all I want, that you forgive me. I love you, I can’t bear this… I’m sorry. If I could go back in time, I would…” 

She felt a tear fall onto her cheek. There still was no response. This had been pointless…

The room was still completely dark, and now it was also silent. Nina swallowed the rest of her tears and started to turn back. This had been her last attempt, there was no chance now…

“Wait.” Suddenly a hand closed around her wrist, turning her around. 

She didn’t really have any time to say anything to even fully understand as a hand grabbed her from the back of her head and lips were captured in a soft kiss. 

“Wait…what?” Nina got out of her mouth. Her head was completely spinning and there was a war inside of her. Only thing she wanted was to melt into Gastón’s arms, but in her head, this didn’t make sense. “You forgiven me? But…”

“I have, yes,” It was still completely dark, no one had turned the lights on, but she could still find his eyes. “Look, I don’t agree with what you did and that you didn’t trust me to know what’s best for me, hurt me.” 

“I’m sorr—”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” Gastón continued. “And I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” 

“I was worried you would resent me… I…”

“Hey, I can understand that, but the decision is mine and I’m responsible for my own choices. I can blame no one else. I wish you would have talked to me about this, instead of doing what you did, I can’t know that you’re worried about something if you don’t tell me.” 

“I know…I will…” Nina’s voice started trailing off slightly. Gastón had moved his hands to her waist and had pulled her closer. She could feel his breath on her face, and it was making her lose her train of thought. They had been separated for maybe two weeks, over 300 hours. It had been way too much, right now she wasn’t able to quite comprehend how she had ever been able to stand it. She couldn’t really stand the slight separation between their lips at that very moment. 

Well, she didn’t need to stand it, not anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck—it was still dark by the way, but she didn’t need to see to know what to do—and kissed him. He responded at once, his arms tightened around her waist as the kiss deepened and he lifted her up in the air. 

*

“Nina?” Luna stirred on her bed. “What’s the time?”

“6:55 am.” Nina, who had been tying her tie on the Blake uniform said.

“Oh, so I didn’t oversleep,” Luna jumped up, “Great! Now…where did I leave the uniform again…?”

“It’s probably in your closet,” Nina suggested.

“No,” Luna shook her head after she had opened the closet and almost halfway stepped into it. “MOM!”

“Luna, what are you doing?” Monica showed up at the door of Luna’s room. “Hey, Nina.”

“Hi.” Nina nodded. 

“Luna, why are you still in pyjamas?” Monica crossed her arms, “You’ll be late to school soon.” 

“We have time, but I can’t find my uniform.”

“Did you look in the closet?”

“I’ll go up already,” Nina said as Luna and Monica started going through Luna’s closets. She didn’t get a response, but it was probably best that she got out of their hair, so she climbed the stairs up to the kitchen. 

“Morning.” She saw Gastón standing in the kitchen. Their eyes locked immediately. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Yes,” She nodded before approaching him, “You?”

“I think I slept better than in a while. Had an interesting dream.” 

“Interesting?”  Nina responded to his teasing as she walked closer, “Your tie is crooked, let me.”

“Was it actually, or was that an excuse?” She felt his hands go to her waist gripping the blazer as he pulled her closer as soon as her fingers left his tie. 

“It was,” Nina nodded and looked him in the eyes. His golden eyes shifted darker as he looked at her. 

“Good.” 

Nina wasn’t actually even that sure how they made this long in this…conversation…before kissing. Well, it didn’t matter now, as her eyes fluttered shut and she wrapped her arms around Gastón’s neck while their lips met quite passionately. She had to get on her toes, as the school uniform’s shoes were flats with zero platform and she was so short. Not that it had stopped them before, nor would it now. 

They were forced to separate as one of the kitchen doors opened and Isla walked in on her phone. Given that their reconciliation had happened maybe seven hours ago, getting caught heavily making out wasn't exactly how she wanted the world to know about it. 

“Gastón, I’m going to three meetings up north of Buenos Aires today,” Isla lowered her phone as she had put a coffee maker on, “your father is joining me on the last one and it's possible that it’ll run late. We might have to stay for the night, if we don’t, we’ll be back extremely late. Tell Monica what you want for dinner.”

“I have handled myself alone for years now,” Gastón responded, “I don’t need instructions.”

“I know that, but this came up so last minute, I wanted to let you know. Now you don’t need to stay alone.”

“Okay yeah,” Gastón nodded, “We’ll be at Roller though. We’re training for the competition.”

“In that case, definitely make sure you eat…in a reasonable hour,” Isla stated, before suddenly turning her eyes to Nina. She had been hoping that maybe she would not be noticed, but that was hopeless now. “Hi Nina.”

“Hi,” Nina just nodded back, “I hope it’s okay I’m here. I was with L—”

“Of course, it is,” Isla’s impression didn’t change, “Why wouldn’t it be?” After that she raised her phone back onto her ear suddenly, “Yes, I’m still here. I’ll be hitting the road in a minute. Yes, of course…looking forward to it.”

“Do you think she…?” Nina asked after Isla had gone. 

“Saw? No.” Gastón shook his head, “But that’s different from her actually knowing. She always somehow knows… Apparently, it’s something with my eyes that Dad does too. And I kind of do get it,” He reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand pulling her closer to him once more. “It’s kind of hard not to be obvious when I look at you.” 

Nina rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face into his neck for a moment, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” She felt his fingers brush through her hair. “It was impossibly hard to stay away from you.”

“I’m sorr—”

“I’m not taking any more apologies—”

“Nina! Did you go up? Where are you?” Luna’s voice rang from below the stairs. 

“I’m here!” Nina yelled back after reluctantly detaching herself off of Gastón. 

“I already ate, so I’ll go grab my stuff from upstairs,” He turned toward the door. 

“Monica hasn’t come up yet.” Nina noted. 

“I can handle my own breakfast,” Gastón shook his head, “It’s kind of this deal we have, to keep me from losing my mind. You can tell Luna that the car leaves in 15 minutes.”

Gastón kissed Nina on her hand and slipped out of the door right before Luna walked up the stairs with her mother. 

“It was on top of the closet!” Luna started complaining. She was still buttoning her vest up. “I have no idea how it got up there.”

“Good thing is that we found it in the end,” Monica opened the fridge. “What do you girls want to eat?”

***

“So, please recap the plan again,” Gastón asked Matteo as they were walking in the hallway. “You wanna do what?”

“It’ll work,” Matteo started speaking, “Right before the competition… I’ll put the drive in, and I’ll need help—”

“I’ll help you, don’t worry.” Gastón nodded.

“Hopefully it actually will work,” Matteo sighed. 

“You just said that it will,” Gastón pointed out, “Are you being optimistic or not? Make up your mind.” 

“I am optimistic,” Matteo said more confidently. 

“That’s the spirit!” Gastón patted Matteo on the shoulder. 

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood,” Matteo looked at Gastón, “What’s going on?”

“Well, I might have had a pretty good night.” Gastón could help himself from smiling. 

“What made the night good?” Matteo was eyeing him quite suspiciously, “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Gastón shook his head, “I just, uhm… I forgave Nina.”

“You did?” Matteo looked shocked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know I was going to, until I did,” Gastón responded, “But I got some good advice and realized what’s really important. I just couldn't stay away from her any longer.”

“Well, your good mood makes sense then,” Matteo patted him on his arm on his turn, “Hopefully this brings me some good luck. We can do a double date once this all is over.” 

***

“I still don’t understand how on earth my skirt ended up in the bottom drawer,” Luna rambled on as she and Nina were walking toward their next class. 

“You probably just forgot you put it there,” Nina noted. 

“Yeah, maybe…” Luna scratched her head, “Sorry I fell asleep last night. We never watched the movie.”

“It’s okay,” Nina reassured her, “It was getting late.”

“I will never understand how all of that works,” Luna shook her head, “I mean my dreams are always all over the place and stuff. I mean I think I maybe woke up at some point and you weren’t there at the room—”

“Well, actually…” Nina started.

“—but I was just dreaming.” Luna continued and didn’t allow Nina to get a word in. “Where would you have gone?” 

“That’s the thing…” Nina tried again. She wanted to tell Luna, but she wasn’t allowing her to get started. 

“Well, it does not matter,” Luna kept talking as she started rummaging through her bag, “Do we have math next? I think I did the homework… Usually if I am not late, I also have my homework done. You know, really nice for Gastón to still give us a ride, because otherwise it would have taken us forever to get here.” 

“Uhm, what do you mean? Doesn’t he always drive you?” Nina looked at Luna confused. She didn’t understand what Luna was really getting at. They had all gotten a ride together—Nina had intentionally sat behind the driver, and when Luna had not been looking, had sneaked to touch his arm or hair. It was hard to keep her hands to herself. 

Gastón had sent her a pretty lengthy text afterwards about driving safety and how distracting the driver was not allowed, in a manner that very much transferred that he actually hadn’t minded at all. This had sparked extremely flirty back and forth conversation which in the end had made her blush so furiously that it had been a miracle that Luna, Jim or Yam had not noticed anything during their first class. 

“Well, I mean it’s great that you two are on terms enough that he was willing to do that,” Luna continued. 

“Uh, Luna,” Nina started once more, “We’re not on that kind of terms.”

“What do you mean?” Luna stared blankly.

“I have to tell you something,” Nina continued, “What I meant by not on terms is that, we’ve…we have made up.” 

“What?” Luna stared again, “Wait? What? When?” 

“Last night,” Nina felt a smile grow on her face when she thought about it. “You weren’t dreaming, I wasn’t there. I went to talk to him after you fell asleep and we...” 

“That is so awesome!” Luna exclaimed and jumped to hug Nina. “I told you he was going to forgive you!” 

***

“Woohoo, we just did it!” Matteo celebrated as the team rolled off the rink and grabbed Gastón’s shoulders. 

“We did it,” He nodded. “But this was just the start. You more than did it.”

“I pulled it off,” Matteo nodded nervously, “And Chica Delivery hasn’t killed me yet, so that’s a good sign.”

“Has she said anything to you yet?” Gastón asked. 

“No,” Matteo shook his head, “We need to talk.”

“If she still refuses to talk to you—” Gastón started, “—come to mine. We can lock you two into your room and then you’ll be forced to talk.” 

“Good idea.” 

“Congratulations!” Suddenly, Nina came behind them and jumped into Gastón’s arms. Matteo had to shuffle back for a moment to give them some more space. He was happy that Gastón and Nina had been able to reconcile since Gastón had been absolutely miserable. It had been a few days, and they already were all over each other like always. “I knew you could do it.”

“Well, we didn’t win.”

“That doesn’t matter, you qualified, that’s what’s important.” Nina continued, and turned to look at Matteo, “You did well too. It was very brave.” 

“Thanks,” Matteo nodded, “Has…has Luna said anything to you?”

“No,” Nina shook her head, “You two should talk.”

“Don’t I know it.” Matteo remarked. 

***

“After you.” Gastón opened the gate to his house for Nina and she walked in. 

“Thank you,” She giggled as Gastón pulled the gate shut. “Do you think Luna and Matteo will actually sort it out?”

“I think I might be able to be positive about it,” Gastón turned to look at her, “Overthinking is always the problem. But from personal experience…” He pulled Nina by the arm closer and wrapped his other arm around her waist, “...it’s not that hard in the end.” 

“I’m sorry I complicated things,” Nina started saying and she placed her hand on his chest. 

“You don’t need to apologize anymore,” Gastón looked at her disapprovingly, “I told you.” 

“I know. I’m sorr—” She was interrupted by a seething kiss that made her mind go completely blank and she almost lost her balance. 

“I’m gonna do that every time you try to apologize,” He smirked after they separated. 

“I love you.” Nina placed her forehead on his.

“I love you.” Gastón responded and kissed her again. “We should go in. The broadcast promised rain and it hasn’t come yet, so it can be any minute now.”

“Yeah,” Nina nodded as they started walking toward the door. “Wait, are your parents home?”

“Yeah, they are.” Gastón furrowed his brow as he looked at her. “What is it?”

“Just that, they don’t know so should we…?”

“Should we nothing.” Gastón seemed to laugh, “Let's just go in, there they’ll find out, if they already don’t know. Mom might, and that means Dad does too. It’s not a big deal, you know they love you. It’s impossible not to.” 

Nina looked down, blushing for a moment. Same time she was trying to process the feeling of surprise on Gastón's statement about his parents knowing if the other one did, because of course they did. That was how it should have been, what he was used to. Gastón had one home, two parents who loved him and were deeply in love with each other. Anyone with eyes was able to see that. No one was fighting over petty things or trying to one up each other. They loved each other, understood each other and worked as a team and a unit. 

That had been a bit of a culture shock for Nina, even when that should have been the norm. She had never experienced that. Her parents apparently had been in love and happy at some point, that’s what they had told her, but she had no memories of it, couldn’t even imagine it. The best her parents had ever gotten along was right now, as Dad was literally in a different—not just a country—continent.

“We’re back!!” Gastón yelled as he opened the door that led from the entry to the kind of the crossroads of a few hallways leading to the library and the living room. As they walked forward, Nina saw that both Isla and Marco were sitting on a couch in the living room. They turn to look when they entered and didn’t even bat an eye at seeing Nina. 

“You had that competition today, correct? How’d it go?”

“Good,” Gastón nodded nonchalantly, “We didn’t win the round, but we qualified. So, we're in the next round, that’s all that matters.” 

“That’s great.”

“Well, we’re going up.” Gastón nodded and they started climbing the stairs. Nina was kind of taken aback by the nonchalant back and forth about the skating, but it seemed like that was just how it was. Gastón’s parents weren’t really involved with his hobby, and he didn’t seem to mind. Nina herself had hated her own parents hanging around Roller. 

Ding!

“Wait.” Nina’s phone suddenly rang with an incoming message as they were about midway up the spiral staircase and pulled her phone out. “It’s Luna.”

Luna: Girl get ready. I’ve got some great news. I’ll give you a hint. Lutteo. Yes!

“I think they did it,” Nina showed the text to Gastón smiling. 

“Thanks to every good force in the universe,” Gastón laughed, “Maybe this will actually work. Good for them.” He learned down and pecked her on the lips. “Well, we have a lot of reasons to be happy then.”

***

“Luna, can you hand me that tray?” Monica asked Luna as she walked up to the kitchen. Apparently, there was some sort of party held that day, at least from all the noise and talking she could hear from coming all around the kitchen. Apparently, Senora Isla and Senor Marco had a bunch of friends who were all over. 

“Yeah sure,” Luna grabbed a tray that had some sort of small pastry and handed it to her mother. She had been all over the kitchen in full force the whole day but seemed to have fun. 

“How are you doing over here?” Miguel walked into the kitchen and kissed Monica on the cheek. 

“Busy, even with the hired help,” She responded while giving instructions to one of the waiters, “but I like a challenge.”

“This won’t be a challenge for you,” Miguel remarked.

“Is there something else I can help with?” Luna asked. 

“Well, if you take those plates and move them to the counter under the microwaves,” Monica pointed toward a cabinet. Luna walked there and took out a pile of plates and started carrying them toward the counter Mom had said when—

“Wow, you back in the food service Chica Delivery?” Matteo’s hands helped Luna to steady the pile of plates before she was able to drop them. “Don’t want to shatter the fine china they have over here. Isla and Marco don’t take kindly to people messing with their prized possessions…like these plates.” 

“Thanks, Chico Fresa,” Luna rolled her eyes laughing as she put the plates into the counter, “I didn’t realize they care about plates…” 

“Oh, just messing with you,” Matteo grinned, “These are probably from Ikea. But you still don’t wanna go around breaking stuff.” Matteo swiped a little bit of hair off Luna’s face. 

“What are you doing here?” Luna crossed her arms after she got the plates organized. 

“Broke in…” Matteo looked around like he was delaying a conspiracy, “...heard that there was food.”

“You’re messing with me again.” Luna tilted her head affectionately. 

“Maybe,” Matteo rolled his eyes, “My parents were invited, so I came with… You know, for the food.”

“For the food?” Luna raised an eyebrow. 

“And for other things as well,” Matteo kissed Luna on the cheek before grabbing her hand. “Come on.”

“What do you mean?” Luna tried to question, but Matteo was already pulling her toward one of the kitchen doors, and out of it. 

“Just trust me.” Matteo pulled her out of the kitchen and beyond. 

“Matteo, I’m not allowed to be here!” Luna protested again as Matteo pulled her into a room in a hallway that looked like a library…

They had a library in this house? No wonder Nina liked this place so much. 

“Who’s gonna care?” Luna turned around and saw Gastón and Nina standing there as well. 

“Oh, you were here as well?” Luna had not even known that Nina was here. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re escaping the crowd and you’re coming with us.” Matteo noted. 

“Escaping where?” Luna was still a bit confused. 

“Upstairs,” Gastón pointed toward a narrow spiral staircase behind him. Why were there stairs in the library? Luna felt like this extremely fancy modern house was actually a medieval fort sometimes. “But I just realized that these stairs just got painted yesterday… so we need to take the others.” 

“How did you almost forget that?” Matteo asked Gastón as he pushed the library door back open. 

“I didn’t know you were here,” Luna whispered to Nina. 

“Gastón asked me to come yesterday,” Nina explained, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Where are you going?” They stopped suddenly as they came across Senora Isla—Who was looking extremely glamorous. 

“Up,” Gastón responded to his mother, “Mom, please. I’ve said hi to anyone who might ask about me. Let us go.” 

“Okay, have fun.” 

Gastón grabbed Nina’s hand and they started climbing the stairs. 

“Aren’t you coming?” Matteo turned around to look at Luna. 

“Oh yeah,” Luna nodded and grabbed his hand. As they climbed up the stairs, Luna realized that she had never been in the upper floors of the house. She had barely been on the main floor, where the living room was. 

The stairs led to another floor, which had more of those giant windows at the end of the hallways. There also were more photos on the walls. There also were more doors. The stairs also kept going, so there also was another floor? How big was this house? 

Luna had no idea where they were going, but Matteo apparently did. They turned left from the stairs and Matteo pushed some sliding double doors open, into a dark room. Gastón and Nina were there too. 

“Why is it so dark in here?” Matteo asked. 

“I haven’t turned it on yet,” Gastón pushed a button on the wall and suddenly a bunch of flames shot up the other end of the room, which made Luna jump. Why was she so jumpy with fire? 

“How does that work?” Luna asked. Her vision was focusing again, and she saw that there hadn’t just been a free inferno in the room. The fire was contained in a fireplace, behind glass. But how was a button able to do that?

“It’s gaslit,” Gastón explained while sitting down on one of the big couches in the room and Nina sat next to him leaning her head to his shoulder, “So the flames are actually coming from burners, no actual wood is burning. So basically cheating, but we don’t have time to set up a real fireplace and an open flame feels like a fire hazard.” 

“Are you gonna look at the flames all day?” Matteo pulled Luna to sit down on the couch on the opposite wall next to him. 

“Oh, nope,” Luna shook her head.

“So, what do you think about the Vidia thing?” Matteo started talking. “I mean I already signed up but wonder who else is going to.”

“I think I heard that Yam is signing up,” Nina noted. 

“Uuu, and Simon is too!” Luna turned to look at Matteo, “This will be super fun!”

“Oh great,” Matteo seemed to roll his eyes for a moment, “I get to compete with Guitarista again…”

“Matteo be nice.” Luna frowned at his direction. 

“OH, Ambar has signed up,” Nina had pulled her phone out and was probably reading the Vidia’s website. 

“Ambar?” Gastón raised his eyebrow. “She wants to win the record contract now?” 

“You never know with Ambar,” Matteo shook his head. 

“I think I saw her and Simon rehearse together actually,” Nina looked pensive for a moment. 

“Simon and Ambar?” Gastón shook his head, “That is a bizarre thought. You’d think I’d seen everything from her at this point…”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked at her turn. 

“I have known her since the third grade,” Gastón started talking, “I think I have actually known her for the longest. Longer than Delfi and Jazmin at least.” 

“Seriously?” Nina turned to look at Gastón, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not that relevant. We’ve never been friends exactly.” 

“I still can’t process an image of Simon and Ambar together,” Matteo scratched the back of his head, “Didn’t Jazmin like him too? I can’t keep track.”

“Like you said,” Gastón continued, “You never know with Ambar. I think she probably dated every guy in our class in middle school.” 

“Every?” Nina slowly turned to look at Gastón again. 

“As in everyone else,” Gastón quickly corrected himself. “No, not me. We never…trust me.”

Luna wasn’t that sure what happened next, but it kind of seemed like they suddenly had a completely nonverbal conversation, which ended up with Nina leaning back into him and Gastón kissing her onto her forehead. 

“Well, that’s enough about Ambar and her love life,” Matteo sighed, “I feel like the competition is a good opportunity for me to show my dad.” 

“Why do you need to show him?” Luna asked, confused. 

“He is insistent on that music isn’t a “proper job” and I need to do something worthwhile with my life,” Matteo made mock quotation marks, before pointing in Gastón’s direction “that’s your fault by the way.” 

“You’re acting like the whole Oxford thing wasn’t your doing?”

“I think we fell off the wagon,” Nina noted. 

“Okay, what we mean by that is that there has been some cross contamination of some views between our parents,” Gastón explained. “I mean Mom and Dad got the whole Oxford thing in their head from Alexander.”

“And the whole Gastón’s parents thing has spooked my Dad,” Matteo laughed, “Now I need to get a proper job, because that is only way forward.” 

“Your Dad’s ignoring the fact that the problem was, at least the way I understood it, it was Cordoba’s bad economy and almost all of my grandparent’s dying. The problem was generational, that Mom and Dad have worked to stop.” 

“They’re all dead?” Luna questioned.

“Grandma’s alive,” Gastón explained, “She lives with my aunt’s family. Mom’s dad, Joakim, my grandpa died in a car crash when she was 14. Dad’s parents, Katherine and Darío, both had cancer, and didn’t survive. They died when Dad was in college.” 

“Well, not to cut the sob story,” Matteo interrupted, “Can we go get some snacks because I am starving.”

*

“Where should we go from here?” Luna was staring a picture of her necklace on the computer screen. 

“I don’t really know,” Nina shook her head, “If we want to find out where your necklace comes from, maybe we should do some jewelry research. I don’t know how that’s done though. I know nothing about jewelry.”

“Me either,” Luna placed her forehead on the table for a moment, “I mean, Mom and Dad said that it was made here, but the maker was sketchy…”

“Who’s sketchy?” Gastón suddenly walked into the kitchen and placed his hand on Nina’s shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hadn’t had the time to tell you yet,” Nina responded while looking up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Uhm, it’s actually something quite personal,” Nina started saying. Luna could appreciate her valuing her things over her boyfriend, but...

“I don’t really think you should hide anything,” Luna piped up, “We can trust him. We are looking into my past.” 

“You’re past?” Gastón raised an eyebrow. “What is there to look into?”

“Quite a lot actually, because I’m adopted.”

“Wait, you’re adopted?” 

“I thought everyone knew,” Luna shrugged, “I don’t hide it.”

“I didn’t know that,” Gastón noted, “What have you been doing?” 

“Kind of nothing,” Nina sighed, “We set up a website for clues, but there has been no activity after Perception.” 

“The what now?”

“We met up with some woman who claimed to have knowledge about my necklace, but she turned out to be some sort of a psychic who just wanted to sell us her book,” Luna laughed. 

“Wait what?” Gastón’s grip on Nina’s shoulder tightened as he looked alarmed, “You met up with some crazy person from the internet? Please tell me you stopped.”

“It was a long time ago,” Nina placed her hand on top of his, “My Dad came with us. Although, it was weird.” 

“I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.” 

“You’re the one to talk to, though,” Nina looked at him a little more humorously, “You were the one who was insistent on setting up dates with a person you met over on the internet.” 

“Which led me to think I was in love with a 40-year-old woman for a week,” Gastón stated his point, “Thanks for that by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I think that might have been my idea,” Luna cringed for a moment, “Sorry.”

“What were you talking about a necklace?”

“Well, this is the only thing I have from the time before I was adopted,” Luna raised her moon pendant up, “We have been trying to figure out its origins. Mom and Dad apparently found out it had something to do with a person called Victorino Wang, but apparently, he’s dangerous, so we can’t go any further with that.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Gastón nodded.

“How so?”

“Higher you get in class here in Buenos Aires, the sketchier it gets. Why do you think Mom and Dad pretend I don’t exist?”

“They do that?”

“Anyways,” Gastón shook his head, “You might wanna ask Mom about that.”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s pretty into jewelry, at least has a lot of it and she knows about a lot of those sort of things.” Gastón explained, “Ask her, especially if we’re talking about a Buenos Airesian jeweler.” 

“That’s actually a good idea,” Nina looked at Gastón again, some sort of twinkle in her eyes. 

“I don’t wanna bother your parents.” Luna shook her head. 

“You won’t bother her,” Gastón shook his head, “You know, they like you, a lot.”

“They do?”

“Yep,” Gastón nodded, “Also, these sorts of things and stuff are actually quite personal for Mom.”

“Wait why?” Luna furrowed her brow, “She’s not adopted herself is she?” 

“No,” Gastón shook his head in a manner that wasn’t fully convincing, but no one noticed it, at the time. “She’s not. That’s not it, exactly… There is little more to it, but that’s not in my liberty to tell people. Anyways, trust me, she will want to help. I’ll leave you to it, I have some things to get to.” He kissed Nina on the cheek, “See you later.”

“You didn’t need to tell him,” Nina said to Luna after Gastón had gone. “if you didn’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” Luna shook her head, “I don’t want to make you lie to him, plus he was able to help us.” 

“That’s true,” Nina nodded, “He is right. Wang seems like a person for the upper classes, so Isla really might know something, maybe even have something from him. Or she might know somebody who knows. Why didn't I think that myself?” 

“I guess it doesn’t hurt to try,” Luna nodded.

“Have you told Matteo about any of this?” Nina asked Luna. 

“No,” Luna shook her head again, “I mean… I have been thinking that maybe I should, but he has been acting so off after he won the competition. I feel like we don’t really understand each other. Not like you and Gastón do.” 

Later that night Luna was lurking in a hallway. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea in the world, but she couldn’t wait and wanted this done. 

She perked up as she heard a door open from the hallway where the office was, and footsteps started approaching. From the sharpness of the clicks, it was clearly heels. 

“Senora Isla?” Luna walked forward. 

“Luna?” She turned around, “You don’t need to call me that. You don’t work for us. Just call me Isla.”

“Okay, well,” Luna nodded. 

“What is it?”

“I wanted to ask if you could help me with something,” Luna started. 

“Well, depending on what it is,” Isla looked at Luna. 

“Okay, so, I’m adopted,” Luna started. She had realized she would probably need to give a little more context to this  and not get straight to the point like when talking to Nina. 

“Yes, I know that.”

“We’re trying to look into my past,” Luna continued, “and kind of getting nowhere… Anyways, this necklace is the only thing I have from the time before the adoption, the only clue I have.” Luna was grasping her necklace in her hand. “Uh, Gastón said that you know a lot about jewelry and we’re trying to figure out where this has come from. Can you help?”

“Well, I can try,” Isla seemed to look at Luna’s hand, “Can I see it?”

“Yeah, of course.” Luna handed Isla the necklace and she looked at it hanging off the chain. 

“Well, I can tell it’s clearly well made,” Isla said while eyeing the charm, “you can tell it from just the weight alone.”

“There’s a sun that went with that,” Luna started talking again, “but I lost it.” 

“A sun and a moon?” Isla looked at Luna again, “Quite charming that you have this. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything like this, so I won't be able to tell you that much.” 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Luna looked down. 

“But do you mind if I take a few pictures of it?”

“Yeah, take away,” Luna took the necklace back. “Thanks.”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.” Isla responded to Luna.

“What was that about?” Marco walked behind Isla after Luna had gone. 

“She just asked for some help,” Isla explained as she was looking through the photos on her phone, “Apparently, she’s looking into her past, for her biological parents. She asked me to look at a necklace she had pre-adoption.” 

“Well, good for you to help. Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Isla looked at her husband, “You know how I feel about this. Everyone should have the right to find out where they have come from, or the right to choose not to know, if they don’t want to. Of course, I’d help…even if—If Gastón ever wanted to find out, I would, even when I have never—”

“He won’t,” Marco interrupted her, “I sincerely doubt he would ever want anything to do with that man. Not after what he did to you and your mother.”

“I know that,” Isla smiled before frowning again, “Marco, how does a three year old girl in an orphanage in Mexico City have that sort of a jewel?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not a professional, but that necklace was clearly expensive, extremely expensive. I don’t think they know that themselves. The fine metals, the craftsmanship and artistry… I would almost bet it’s a custom-made piece. The chain wasn’t just plated, it was solid gold.” 

“Right, I understand,” Marco nodded, “Makes you really wonder where she has come from.”

“And what was she doing in an orphanage?” Isla shook her head, before looking at the photos again, “I’ll send these to Maria, she might be able to make a better sense of them.”

***

Ambar found herself humming while she walked down the stairs in the Mansion. 

“Are you sure about this Mrs. Benson?” Ambar stopped as she heard Rey’s voice coming from the living room. She had to roll her eyes. Why was Madrina always stressed by something…

…honestly, Ambar felt quite relaxed at the moment. She had her house back, no Lunita bothering her every hour of the day. Actually, the little girl had actually become a tad bit more tolerable at the rink as well, not that she would ever actually admit it. 

“How many times do I need to repeat myself Rey!” Sharon’s voice rang out. “Do as you’re told. We’re losing time.”

“Very well,” Rey’s voice sounded a bit defeated. “And the risks…”

“I am done hearing about risks! This is what we're doing…” Sharon’s voice faded for a moment, “We’ll see who is laughing after this. Their arrogance won’t save them now. They claim they have no weakness, but I know better than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“What they try to hide is what they fear … The child.”

“What you’re implying would be a hundred times riskier and more dangerous…”

“You think I don’t know that?!!” Sharon’s voice got angrier. “I don’t want to go there. That’s why, this has to work, otherwise we will have no option.” 

Ambar started walking away as fast as she could. She could only guess what Madrina had been talking with Rey about, but something told me that she didn’t want to know. She didn’t like what she had heard.

She didn’t know who they were talking about and who they were trying to bring down, but… was it about the Valentes? Ambar didn’t care about Lunita and her family, she didn’t, but she didn’t understand why Madrina was so concerned about them. Not their problem, good riddance…

…but, if she wasn’t sure how much she liked the idea of trouble coming into anyone’s way. Mostly because… she had known Gastón for a long time, and they were kind of friends. In some way she did care for him, and she would never admit being envious, but his family seemed pretty great… for people of their status. 

Ambar didn’t want them to get mixed up in any sort of trouble, just because they were involved with losers like Valentes. That sort of sensation was pretty new for her.

***

Gastón put his phone back into his pocket as he heard…the gate buzzer go off? No one ever rang that. Most of the people who came into the house either had clearances, keys and fingerprint access, or someone knew they were coming. If someone needed the gate to be opened, they called whoever they were coming to see. 

In other words, this was weird. 

He wondered for a moment if he should just ignore it as spam, but there was no foot traffic on their street. He walked to the window and pushed the curtains open, so he was able to see to the gate—

What?

“Mom, Dad—” He pushed the office’s door open. 

“Can it wait for a moment?” His dad interrupted.

“No, it can’t really wait,” Gastón continued, “There are police at our gate.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Gastón nodded, “What have you done?”

“Nothing,” His mother almost laughed. Given, on paper, this kind of was a comical situation. “This has to be a mistake.” 

“They probably got the addresses mixed up,” Marco continued, “Windlows down the street have probably gotten caught from all the tax fraud they’d been doing.”

“Or they’re on their way to Castillo house again and decided for their sanity that they couldn’t do it, so they are pretending to be lost.” 

“Well, that doesn’t really change the fact that they're still at OUR door,” Gastón repeated. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll handle this.”

“Now we have seen everything,” Isla remarked as she and Marco walked toward the gate of their house. There really was a police car parked in front of it and two officers in uniforms were standing at the gate. 

“Excuse me?” Marco asked as they got to the gate. “Can we help you?”

“Police, good afternoon.” One of the officers showed his badge as Marco opened the gate. “Are you the owners of this property?”

“Yes, I’m Marco Perida, this is my wife Isla. Are you sure you’re in the right location?”

“Do Miguel Valente and Monica Aguilar-Valente live here?” The other officer asked. 

“Yes, they’re our in-house employees,” Isla responded, “What is this about?”

“In that case, we need you to let us in,” The police officer pulled out a document, “We have a warrant for their arrest.”

“This has to be a mistake,” Marco started saying, “What are they accused of?” 

“That is classified information,” The officer stated, “We have a court order, they have to come with us.”

“This is ridiculous!” Isla exclaimed, “They haven’t done anything.” 

“Like we said, we have a warrant…”

“What’s going on?” A voice came behind them.

Isla closed her eyes for a moment. This really wasn’t a situation Gastón should be inserting himself into.

“It’s okay. Go back inside, we’ll handle this.” She turned to her son. 

“It’s clearly not okay,” He argued, “What is going on?”

“I won’t repeat myself again,” The police officer continued, “We have a court order, ordering the arrest of Miguel Valente and Monica Aguilar-Valente.” 

“What?!”

“Go back inside.” Isla turned toward Gastón again. 

“I suggest you don’t resist if you don’t want any problems,” The officers started to become frustrated. “Otherwise, we will have no choice but to arrest you as well.”

“Mom, Dad…” Fear flashed into Gastón’s eyes and Isla looked at Marco. 

They couldn’t… It didn’t feel right, but they had no option. They couldn’t let the situation escalate and get ugly, not in front of Gastón. Definitely not get themselves arrested in front of him.

They couldn’t risk it. 

“Follow us.”

{}

Well, how's that for an ending...? What gonna happen, we don't know yet. But honestly, would you let yourself get arrested in front of your child to save your employees, which it also would have probably not worked. Of course not. Well, what else happened here? Gastina obviously got back together, because of course they did. We were not gonna dragg that out. This is how it should have happened. We also gotta sweet scene with Gastón and his Dad out of it since there's no daddy issues in this house, Matteo has enough of them. Lutteo took off, flew, crashed and burned... All in the same chapter, but what were you expecting? I am not a big Lutteo person and like I said last time, where Luna lives doesn't stop Matteo from being an idiot. Their issues are inevitable. And Like Luna is not the main character here, so her love life can be unimportant. There is no main character in the fic, the focus is more the "change" it self or like the house. Luna's investigation is raising some eyebrows, we'll see how that will go what she will find out this way. Some people are probably wondering who on earth is Maria, so let me clear that out. Maria Aguirre is an OC who has originated from SI, mentioned in chap 2 and appeared in chap 6. She has also been mentioned in GOS and other works, but I don't blame anyone if you don't remember her. She is a close friend of Gastón's mother and a jeweler who made Gastina's wedding rings. Also, I am very much aware how confusing the discussion between Gastón parents was about Gastón not wanting find something out. This is a classic case of characters knowing something that the reader doesn't. I will not be cleared it up here, since it's not plot relevant and will be explored in a future work. If you know you know, since it has been actually mentioned before. But I wanna clear some things up, given that it sounded super sketchy and is prone to misinterpretation. Gastón is not adopted and he is biologically both of his parents' child. I mean, it been said million times how much he looks like his Dad. I also am thinking maybe bringing Ambar's redemption into this, but we'll see. Even if she turns her life around, maybe helps with all the Sharon scheming, she still has burned the rink. All that said, what do you think will happen next?? Things are getting interesting.

#Soy Luna #soy luna fanfiction #Gastina #Lutteo #Soy Luna Season 2 #Gastteo #Au #Twist #This was just a stupid idea #But I am rolling with it #And having fun

[exelahrsolutions]

Employee onboarding is when the first impression is made on a new employee. All opinions about the employer are formed at this crucial stage. Get it right! 

#ExelaHRSolutions #HRO #HR #OnboardingEmployees #Recruitment #NewEmployee #Staffing #Onboarding #EmployeeOnboarding

[myakkun]

BONTEN AS YOUR BODYGUARDS

character(s): bonten x gn!reader

notes: tbh i’m not sure how i like this & it’s kinda all over the place but we are gonna roll w it :’) + this isn’t rlly a romantic relationship between them all but could be implied !!

warnings: boys jus being their normal semi-aggressive selves, reader is kinda a “daddy’s baby” (not spoiled tho) just for the sake of the plot pls jus let me have this

having the bonten boys as your bodyguards means three things. constant observation, twenty four hour protection, and most importantly: never having to open a door for yourself.

it doesn’t take long from the moment they’re hired that you make sure to blur that professional line, just a little. after all, if they’re going to be on your ass constantly the least they can do is address you by your first name.

eventually, as all things do, one thing leads to another and it doesn’t even really feel like you’re their boss anymore. you’re friends, close, depend on each other more than just an employee employer type thing.

having them around makes you feel safe all the time, not just when they’re on duty. you decide that blurring the line is a great decision when it comes to your relationship with certain bodyguards of yours.

others... maybe not so much.

not that they’re bad! but you quickly learn that if you give sanzu an inch he’ll take a mile and if you offer ran a bite he steals the whole meal. they mean well, they just need to watch it sometimes.

like when they won’t stop making cheeky remarks to you in front of your father. (seriously, it’s almost like the two of them have a death wish or something).

you still remember when you went to your father to ask his permission to go out with some friends, sanzu and ran in tow. because you figured they’d be the best to accompany you on your night out, right? they’d fit in at a club well, you thought.

your father was a little hesitant to say yes, eyeing the two sharply dressed men behind you before finally sighing with a nod. it was good, it had went smooth.

and then the dumbasses decided to open their mouths.

“don’t worry sir, we’ll take very good care of them,” ran said, lips tilting up a little too devilishly.

sanzu hummed in agreement, gaze flicking over to you, “we’ll have our eyes on them all night long.”

your cheeks flushed with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment and you’re pretty sure you saw the words “murder alert!!” hang over your father’s head for a few seconds before he huffed out a “right” and left the room with clenched fists.

now you’re used to it, your father is used to it, everyone else is used to it. but it doesn’t stop the icy glares your father throws or the way the two idiots’ smirks grow wider in the moment.

if they weren’t some of the best in the business you’re sure they’d be fired by now, but luckily for them you put in a good word to daddy, so they get to stay.

your nights out with them really are fun, but they always try to butt in to steal you away from your friends way too early into the evening.

“c’mon, yn. dance with me too,” ran smiles, lips curved upwards in a way the club lights illuminate. he pulls on your hand, trying to nonchalantly tug you away from your friends.

“have a drink with me,” sanzu offers, pulling your other arm in an attempt to drag you away to the bar. he’s not supposed to be drinking on the job, but one glass won’t hurt.

you were foolish for thinking the two of them would be good choices to accompany you during club nights because it always ends with them bickering, making off handed comments, and throwing punches that get the three of you thrown out.

they make it up to you by stopping for your favorite fast food before you go home though, so it’s sort of a win.

another menace in your little boyband is none other than the leader himself.

mikey’s a great bodyguard, one of the best you’ve ever met really (which is why he was the obvious choice to be captain) but he has these moments about him that are just a little… careless?

like how he scored you both a lecture from your father because he didn’t put a helmet on you before taking you out on his bike.

you weren’t even going far! just a few corner turns and mikey hadn’t really thought about grabbing your helmet off the shelf in the garage. and you didn’t worry about it either, you were just going right down the street.

by the time the two of you got back from your little joyride—laughing and joking, you holding onto mikey’s arm as you walked into the house—your father was already waiting for you.

after your father’s lecture, mikey was rewarded one from you too for getting you in trouble in the first place. but he was pouting and looking at you through his lashes with his hair falling in his eyes and..

well you’re strong willed but you’re not that strong willed, so you can’t help but cut your lecture short to go get mr. leader a snack to cheer him up.

(he doesn’t forget your helmet anymore after that. but his memory still doesn’t serve him well when he keeps losing his walkie talkie).

he sneaks into your bedroom a lot too, always scares the hell out of you when you walk in to see him there, to borrow—read steal—your hair ties. because, guess what, he’s lost his.

it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost you yet.

it becomes rather obvious rather quickly that there are certain boys you should bring with you and have tag along for specific events or outings.

and certain boys you should not.

(mostly because the first time you brought takeomi to the animal shelter and learned he was allergic to dogs but didn’t want to say anything, you learned your lesson. poor guy didn’t stop sneezing for days).

(or that one time you took mocchi with you to your little cousin’s birthday party and he accidentally scared all of the kids when he was just trying to ask where the drinks table was at).

(then there was that instance with kakucho where he accompanied you to a haunted house and you learned the hard way—which was by him punching one of the poor workers in costume in the jaw—that he does not do well with jump scares at all).

needless to say, you’re a little more picky now with who you choose to bring with you so as to not run into any problems.

rindou is your go to when you’re wanting to disappear for a few hours. like, literally disappear.

you don’t tell anyone where you’re going because that obviously defeats the purpose of alone time, but rindou always tags along. someone has to be with you constantly and he’s just the best option for this sort of thing.

the two of you don’t even leave your family’s estate, you’re just insanely good at hiding. it’s become like a game to you two, watching all the others frantically search as you sit out in the garden.

it’s always hard to stifle your laughs as their panicked voices call over the pager on rindou’s hip.

(have you seen them? / they aren’t in the house i’ve searched a million times / oh god their father’s gonna kill us).

the two of you duck behind bushes as kakucho runs past and clasp your hands over your mouths when ran calls out your names from somewhere across the property.

rindou always whispers at you, hisses little “shh, you’re gonna get us caught”s even when he’s doing his best to stifle his laughter too.

“me? you’re the one that keeps rustling around!” you retort, voice just as low as you knock your shoulder into his from where you’re crouched beside him.

maybe the whole thing is just a tad bit evil, but it’s fun. and you always show back up before they make the worried call to your father anyways. so what’s the harm in it?

(the rest of the guys always give rindou a hard time after, though. chewing him out and shoving him around. but he just smirks at you as he tries not to laugh again).

they fall for it every time, it’s never not funny.

sometimes, you have to attend these stupid, huffy, boring galas. you hate them, so much, they make you want to scream.

and kokonoi elects himself to be the one to escort you to these things—nights like this he doubles as your bodyguard as well as your date.

“stop fidgeting, yn, you’re going to wrinkle it,” he hisses at you, prying your hands away from where you’re toying with your outfit as you step out of the car.

you pout as he loops his arms with yours and walks you up the stairs. then an elbow is in your ribs that has you plastering on a smile as cameras flash and snap pictures until the two of you enter.

you’re bombarded most of the night. kokonoi tends to keep his distance a little during these things—scoping out the room, remaining a few feet away as you chat with friend’s of your fathers and suitors who you have no interest for.

he swoops in when he needs to though. like when one of said suitors tries to slip you another glass of champagne when koko has already cut you off for the night.

he’s smooth as he slips up beside you, sliding an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him and farther away from the guy and using his free hand to snatch the drink away from you before it even has a chance to reach your lips.

he’s smiling as he turns his attention back to the douche—i mean dude—but his eyes don’t reflect that faked kindness.

“i believe i told you that they wouldn’t be having anymore tonight,” he grins, though his voice is icy. “run along before i shove this champagne glass down your throat.”

you always huff at him, try to make a feeble attempt to reach for the drink again in an adorable way that has him chuckling at you as he sets it on a passing waiter’s tray and starts leading you towards the exit.

on the car ride home he lets you lay your legs across his lap as you pull the fancy jewelry off of you and toss it to him to hold.

(the other guards always grumble at him about how he has the “easy” job out of them. he just simpers because he knows they’re right).

grocery shopping seems like a mundane sort of thing—and takeomi tells you that you should just have them delivered—but you love doing it.

it’s domestic! fun! you get to throw random things in your cart as you pass them just because they look good in the moment!

takeomi hates going for groceries with you, so he’s not really sure how he’s the guard that gets looped into it. every. damn. time.

he’s begged and pleaded the other guards to take his place, he’ll do anything, he swears! just no more supermarket trips.

but no, fate is not aligned with him and your sweet smile is too hard to say no to. which is how he always ends up right here without fail: pushing the shopping cart as you walk in front of him and toss random items into it.

he leans his elbows against it, slouched as he pushes it along after you, sighing dramatically every now and then. it feels like he’s been there for hours.

(in reality it’s only been fifteen minutes).

takeomi also hates getting groceries for another reason: men see you in the cereal aisle and start making half-assed attempts at hitting on you, using cereal as a pickup line of all things.

now, your father gave the boys three rules when he hired them.

one: no getting handsy with his precious little baby (which some of them fail, accidentally of course).

two: protect his precious little baby at all costs, no matter what (which they all do religiously, without a doubt).

and three: keep men away from them at all times (and that is something that all of them can most definitely agree to).

rule number three gives a little ‘ding ding ding!’ in his head as he watches some guy chat you up, his eyes a little too daring as he looks you up and down. and it would be wrong to not uphold your father’s wishes, wouldn’t it?

“oi,” takeomi clicks his tongue, jerking his head as you look over to him. because you’re oblivious to it, you wouldn’t know if someone was flirting with you if it smacked you in the face. “nuh uh.”

and you know what that means, so with a sigh and a roll of your eyes you trudge back over to the cart and slot yourself beside takeomi as he resumes his pushing it down the aisle.

“we were just talking,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk.

he scoffs at you, shaking his head. “you were just talking. that fucker was undressing you with his eyes. sick bastard. y’know what? maybe i should just go back there and teach him some manners.”

you aren’t sure why you pick takeomi to go get groceries with you either, because it always ends up with you having to restrain him from beating up some poor innocent civilian who didn’t mean any harm.

as part of learning to take over your father’s business, you have to attend business meetings alone, run them yourself.

which is scary, and honestly you can forget to be serious at times, which is why kakucho comes with you to help keep you in check.

in the nicest way possible, of course.

he stands to your right as you sit at the head of the long table, the business’ board seated all the way down. you’re nervous, who wouldn’t be?

you’re trying to explain the numbers, but honestly you’re about a third of the way through this meeting and you’re tired of it. “so, like, if we don’t step things up then this is all gonna start to suck.”

a throat quietly clears from beside you and you look up to see kakucho raising a brow, a signal that you’re letting your professionalism slip.

“what i mean is, if we don’t work hard and focus to get back on track, then profits are going to start declining before we can stop them,” you correct yourself, immediately, fingers fiddling while straightening out the papers in front of you.

you feel giddy as you glance back up for a sense of approval and catch the ghost of a grin twitching the edges of kakucho’s mouth.

but he isn’t just there to stand beside you and remind you to speak and act correctly. sometimes these meetings get heated, board members step out of line, and if you were your father then it would be fine.

but you aren’t.

when one of them stands up, pointing an accusing finger at you and raising their voice til it booms throughout the room, kakucho’s real job begins.

instantly, he leaves your side, taking swift and rhythmic steps up to the shouting employee, and clamps a hand on their outstretched arm in a way you know has to hurt from how strong he is.

“speak to them that way again, and i’ll kill you,” he states, calm and steady, tone just as serious as ever, “they deserve your respect. apologize.”

and it really isn’t necessary—your father has told you countless times that people getting fumed during meetings is rather normal—but when the board member hesitates, for just a split second, kakucho is tightening his grip until they immediately blurt out sorrys.

he takes his spot next to you again once the member sits back down, and this time his grin isn’t so hidden as he holds his position smugly.

needless to say with kakucho around, outbursts during meetings you hold happen a whole lot less.

your absolute favorite times with your bodyguards though are the times when they technically aren’t your bodyguards at all—off duty days.

it’s such a stereotypical thing, but mall days are like your tradition during off duty days now. they’re fun, relaxing, and not to mention you get to see the boys in their normal clothes and not just their suits.

(though their suits and dress shirts are absolutely nothing to complain about).

you all drift through the mall, stopping in stores and trying on clothes or shoes or looking at new dvds that you guys could watch for a movie night sometime.

it’s funny, though, how even when they’re off duty like this—without their holster and guns, not signed on right now—they still act like they’re working.

like when a random guy starts to approach you in the food court and ran walks up to sling an arm around your shoulder to pull you away instantly.

or when that one worker in the fragrance shop leans in too close to you, in mikey’s eyes anyways, so he takes a step between the two of you to block them.

or when sanzu notices someone checking you out while you look through sunglasses and steps behind you to block their view with a snarky sneer.

or when rindou and takeomi walk on each side of you with mocchi trailing right behind as if they’re preparing for someone to run up and attack.

or when kakucho stares down the person behind the register ringing you up, analyzing their every move, just to make sure they don’t make a wrong one.

or when kokonoi keeps a hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you through a crowded store because he needs to make sure you’re right there with him.

they’re always looking out for you, on and off the clock, even in ways you don’t see or don’t particularly pick up on. and it’s in the moments that you realize that when you’re hit with the reality that they’re so much more than just your bodyguards.

along the way they’ve really become your best friends—something much closer than even family—and created a bond that is so natural and sweet you don’t think it could ever break.

you aren’t sure what to call them, but guardian angels seems a bit too sappy and a whole lot too pure of a term, so for now you’ll just settle for bodyguards.

and they’re really, really good at their jobs.

reblogs appreciated !

#i … don’t know if i love or hate this #i wanna write like an actual fic type thing for this but idk if it would be any good LMAO #ANYWAYS BODYGUARD BONTEN🗣🗣🗣 #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten fluff #mikey x you #mikey x reader #mikey fluff #rindou x you #rindou x reader #rindou fluff #ran x you #ran x reader #ran fluff #kakucho x you #kakucho x reader #kakucho fluff #takeomi x reader #takeomi x you #takeomi fluff #kokonoi x reader #kokonoi x you #kokonoi fluff #sanzu x reader #sanzu x you #sanzu fluff

[lady-literature]

Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet… 

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion. 

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time).  She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day. 

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #mlb x dc #jasonette #my typewriter #platonic dickinette #platonic timari

[readerstories]

Horse Whisperer - Tommy Shelby x male!reader

This got so long so quick. Hope you enjoy! (AO3)

Warnings/tags: boss/employee relationship, friends to lovers, fluff (link to bonus smut at the end)

Wordcount: 3418

Request: Tommy x m reader R is good with horses. Rides and takes care of them, but Tommy notices him when he is able to calm down a horse that went completely wild. He finds himself intrigued in this 'horse whisperer'. They share their love for horses and it develops into love for each other. That leads to secret meetings, one pulling each other to the side for quick kisses, riding together etc.

Horses have always been the one animal you gravitate towards. Cats and dogs were okay, but they were nothing compared to horses. You loved them and as you got older, you found yourself working with them, and over time, gaining a reputation for being a hard stable worker who treats the animals well. Which is how you find yourself working on the Shelby estate, taking care of the Shelby family’s horses.

You rarely see any of them, and you have yet to meet Thomas Shelby, your employer, since the stable master had been the one to hire you. You don’t mind, as the horses are your number one priority. You have of course heard about them all, the rumors, the brutality, everything, but they seem to care about their horses, so you don’t care about anything else.

The first time you meet, or rather see Thomas Shelby is when the farrier comes to the stable to check over and shoe some of the horses. It’s a day with some bustling activity as horses are moved back and forth, but it’s all going well.

Until the last horse. A grey stallion named Tom-Tom you had warned them to be slow with, and that they shouldn’t move or even touch him without you there. You know him well. The horse gets nervous easily, and several hundred kilos of a nervous horse is bad news for everyone involved.

Which is why, when you return from taking a piss, you swear as you notice two stable-hands leading him out of his box.

Tom-tom is already agitated, so you increase your pace, keeping yourself from running or shouting just knowing that would make everything worse. It doesn’t help however, as seconds later there’s a loud clatter from somewhere in the stable as something is dropped, and Tom-Tom has had enough.

He neighs loudly and trashes around, the two men leading him barely hanging on to the ropes fastened on either side of his halter. Not deterred and panicking more by the second, Tom-Tom neighs again, this time rising up on his hind legs.

This time the ropes are dropped, and when his front is back on solid ground, Tom-Tom starts running towards the stable door. People dive out of his way, in no way thinking about trying to stop the panicked animal. Only one of the two stable doors were left open, but now Tom-Tom busts the other one open with his shoulder. Someone yells out in surprise on the other side and you swear, taking off after Tom-Tom, not even bothering to yell at the stupid idiots who took him out his box. You will get to them later.

Seconds later you’re outside too, eyes quickly landing on Tom-Tom where he’s pacing, almost running back and forth on the large open space in front of the stable. You quickly note the two men in peaky caps next to the stable door, which must have been the ones to yell, but you pay them no mind, all focus on Tom-Tom as you try to get the horse’s attention.

“What the fuck was that?” One of the peaky men yells, mustache quivering.

”Shut the fuck up or the horse is going to get worse you sod.” You purposefully try not to yell, but your voice comes out forceful nonetheless. It looks like he’s about to say something more, but the other man puts a hand on his shoulder, seemingly to stop him. It works, and you turn your attention back to Tom-Tom.

He is still pacing, not calming down in the slightest. You call his name over and over again as you slowly, every so slowly, creep closer to him.

A few feet away you stop, reaching out a hand towards him.

A few more strides, then Tom-Tom slows, before finally coming to a stop not far from your outstretched hand. He is still nervous as you approach once more, legs twitching, ears flicking back and forth, frothing ever so slightly at the mouth. You keep your voice low and even, talking to him as you get closer.

“That’s it, good boy. You doing better now?” When your hand makes contact with Tom-Tom’s mule, his head snaps up just once, before he puts his mule back in your hand. You move it slowly upwards, tracing your fingers up to his forehead, close to his mane.

“That’s it, that’s it.” You almost whisper, walking just a little bit forward so you can move your hands along his neck, ignoring the ropes for now. You talk slow and low, praising him for calming down and not running away as you slowly move your hand along his neck.

Tom-Tom moves his head so it’s over your shoulder, putting some weight against your shoulder and back.

Your hand moves from his neck down to the shoulder he banged into the stable door on his way out. It feels alright, slightly warm, but you can’t be sure nothing is damaged before walking him around for a bit.

Still being slow, you take a few steps back, Tom-Tom moves his head so you can look at him again. You untie one of the ropes from his halter, letting it fall to the ground, before gently starting to lead a slightly less twitching Tom-Tom away from the stable.

You hear the peaky man from earlier say something, you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or your companion, but you don’t care. You however feel eyes burning into your back, so you glance over your shoulder, your eyes connecting to intense blue eyes watching you from under a peaky cap.

----

A little while later, you return Tom-Tom to his box, satisfied that he will most likely be fine, though you will need to keep an extra eye one him for a few days. Then you talk to the farrier and get him to agree to return in a week, a smart man after having worked with horses for long.

After that, you find the two morons that took Tom-Tom out of his box without you. They were currently cleaning saddles, but you stop them in their work. Standing just inside one of the two doors to the rooms, you give them a verbal lashing. It’s at the tail end of this that Tommy Shelby finds you. You see the eyes of both boys grow wide, and one of them actually interrupts you.

“Uh-”

“What?!” You bite out. The boy doesn’t answer, instead pointing behind you. You turn around and leaning in the doorway is the man with the blue eyes from earlier.

“What do you want?” Blue Eyes raises a brow.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving these boys a reminder that they shouldn’t be stupid and do things they shouldn’t when they have been told multiple times not to do something.” Your tone is clipped, annoyed with the interruption. Blue Eyes doesn’t seem faced.

“Is that so?” He flickers his gaze to the boys behind you, and before you can really process what’s going on, the other door to the room slams behind the boys as they make themselves scarce. Blue eyes give you a once-over. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“I recognize the cap, you’re a peaky blinder, but other than that I got no fucking clue.” You cross your arms over your chest, the man almost seems like he is having fun.

“Is that a tone to take with your employer?” His tone is neutral, face much the same except a little twinkle of something you can’t recognize in his eyes.

“My employer is the stable master.”

“And his employer?”

“Thomas Shelby.” His brow is raised yet again, and a few seconds is all you need. “Ah, evening Mr. Shelby.” You uncross your arms, fishing out your cigarettes from your back pocket, taking one out.

“If you want to fire me for not being polite earlier, there are easier ways.” You offer him a cigarette, and to your surprise he pushes of the door frame and takes it. You light your own, then hand him the matches so he can use them. The flame dances briefly over his face as his attention is moved away from you, but just seconds later you got eye contact once more.

“I’m not here to fire you.” He says in an exhale of smoke.

“Then why are you here then Mr Shelby?” Your smoke mixes with his as you ask, wondering what this is.

“Please, call me Tommy.” You nod, furrowed brow, but Tommy keeps talking. “I just wanted to see the man that managed to calm down a wild horse.” You snort, already forgetting to even try keeping your response or tone in a fitting way for when talking to your boss.

“He was hardly wild Mr Sh- Tommy, he was just scared. I worked with Tom-Tom enough that I knew that, and I knew how to calm him down.”

“Still, an impressive feat to calm down a panicking animal.” Tommy’s eyes flicker all over you, and you suddenly notice how close he is standing to you. Every time either of you takes a drag of a cigarette, you can almost brush a hand against the other, smoke mingling as you talk. You take half a step back, unsure yet again of the situation you find yourself in. Tommy notices, but doesn’t comment on it other than a barely there tilt of his head. He seems to be sizing you up for something, but you have no idea what.

He mirrors you then, taking a step back too. A last drag of his cigarette before he stumps it out on the ground.

“I will see you around.” He doesn’t let you respond, out of the room and gone in seconds.

----

You don’t have to wonder much or long about what those words meant, as you do actually end up seeing him more after that little incident.

A lot more actually.

Before that day you had never even seen the man, but now, you see him at least once a week, if not more. He’s around the stable more, sometimes talking to the stable master, other times preparing for a ride, however the weirdest times are the ones where he comes around with an excuse to talk to you.

The first time it happens is a few days after the incident with Tom-Tom. He just wanders up while you are cleaning out his stable and asks you about him. You glance up at him, unsure why he is asking, but you start talking about Tom-Tom. You liked your job and talking to Tommy, your boss, was a sure way to keep that job. You end up talking through all your cleaning, and when you try to excuse yourself to do other work, Tommy insists you keep on talking, not letting go of you quite yet. You find it strange, but you do as you’re ordered.

That was the first time it happened, but not the last. Tommy will find you wherever you are, tell you to talk about something, most of the time the horses in the stable. You do so, and he mostly listens, sometimes coming on with comments or even stories of his own.

Surprisingly, Tommy loves horses too. You had thought he was just another rich man that had a lot of horses just because he could, but he genuinely seems to care about the animals. You sometimes see him feed them treats, giving them extra pats and attention when he thinks no one is looking. Hearing him talk about them is great too, sometimes he even smiles when talking about them, which you learn is something he doesn’t do a lot of.

Over time, your friendship of sorts grows strong, and you find yourself looking forward to the days Tommy comes to see you. It is a distraction from your work and the horses, but you don’t mind.

----

It’s night, and for once, the stable is quiet, almost no activity going on. Some horses are moving around in their boxes, and you can hear some animal rustling the bushes outside, but other than that, you’re alone with your lamp.

One of the mares, Lady, is only days away from birth, and to be on the safe side, you had suggested for you to watch her in the night. None of the others had wanted to do it, but you and the stable master were both content with it just being you. You know the old man is not long from retirement, and he was not about to stay up late when someone else he trusts can do it.

The only thing about doing night shifts like this was how boring and lonely it could be. Sitting on a hay bale outside Lady’s box, you try to enjoy or at least not mind the quiet. For a little while you had entertained yourself and Lady by humming, and even singing, some songs you knew.You tire of that quickly however, and have now settled on letting your thoughts wander before you try to find some work or really anything to do.

So when you hear quiet steps nearing the stables you are instantly on alert. No one else is supposed to be coming, and it’s still far until morning. The steps get closer and closer, before one stable door is pushed open, creaking as it reminds you that its hinges need oiling.

The first you see is a puff of smoke, and then Tommy enters the stable. He puts out his cigarette on the wall, throwing it outside, already aware of your ire for smoking near very flammable hay.

“Evening.” Tommy says, sounding weirdly formal for it being the middle of the night.

“Tommy, what are you doing here?” He keeps silent as he walks over to Lady’s box, peeking into it. You stand up so you're next to him.

“She looks about ready to go.” Tommy comments, keeping all of his attention on the horse except a brief glance at you.

“She is, which is why I’m here. But again, why are you here?” The silence stretches as Tommy says nothing, moving to lean his arms on the edge of Lady’s box. Lady doesn’t seem to care, as she munches on some hay.

“Couldn’t sleep.” The admission is quiet, almost like Tommy didn’t want you to hear him, so you pretend you didn’t. Sort of. You know he can use a distraction, knowing your own mind being like that when you’re the one who can’t sleep.

“Hey, let me show you something.” Tommy has to move back as you start to open the sliding door. Lady shifts her attention from her hay to you, blowing out some air from her nose.

“Come, come.” You say to her, reaching out your hand. She slowly takes a few steps towards you, pushing her nose into your hand, blowing some more air.

“Good girl.” You give her a scratch and then move out of the doorway of the now open box, letting her walk past you, into the hallway and right next to Tommy. Lady barely spares him a glance before walking towards the stable doors. You tug at Tommy’s arm for him to follow, grinning as he seems to be watching Lady with some skepticism. Opening the stable door for her, Lady slowly walks outside, stopping not far outside the doors, giving you time to close the doors behind her before she starts walking again.

You quickly catch up to her, as her steps are slow with how heavy she is. Tommy is quick to follow, walking behind you at the slow pace Lady has set. You can see Tommy thinking, glancing between you and her as you walk.

“And you still do not want to call yourself a horse whisperer, ey?” You snort.

“No, this is no horse whispering, this is trust built up over time.” Tommy doesn’t respond, so you let the silence linger, just enjoying the company. You let Lady steer the direction as she usually does, taking you on a short route that will lead you around some of the paddocks.

“It’s good for her to walk like this, both for her and the foal.” You tell Tommy, mostly to have something to fill the quiet night air with. He nods, seemingly lost in thought with his hands in his pockets as he walks beside you

It doesn’t take long before you return to the stable. Although Lady liked these walks, she  would only walk for so long with how big and slow she was. She patiently waits for you to open the stable doors for her, going straight for her box as she gets inside. She gulps down some water as you push the door to her box closed.

Lady peaks outside so she can take the small piece of apple you offer her. You offer the other piece to Tommy, who takes it, and in turn, offers it to Lady. She takes it, munching on it as she lets out a small neigh. You smile at her, then at Tommy.

“I think she likes you.” Tommy is watching her, slowly raising his hand towards her. She lets him pet her for a little bit before moving away, moving into her box, away from the both of you.

“I think I like her too.” Tommy’s voice is quiet and it’s only when he turns his head towards you that you realize how close you are to him. You perhaps only inches apart, closer than needs be in the deserted stable. Tommy is watching you with a look that you don’t recognize, eyes intense as his focus is solely on you.

“I-” Whatever you were about to say is lost as Tommy raises a hand to cup your cheek, surprisingly gentle for a man with such a fierce reputation. But that is also not what you know him as, is it? You know that he loves horses, that you like talking to him, that he is seemingly content to walk with you when he can’t sleep, that he-

Your thoughts are cut off when Tommy leans forward to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is short, barely there, you aren’t even really able to process it’s really happening before Tommy leans back, gauging your reaction

You don’t know what to say, so instead of even trying, this time it’s you who leans forward to capture Tommy’s lips with yours. He is quick to respond, the hand not holding your face pulling you in by the waist. Not to be outdone, one of your hands goes to his ribs, the other to his hip.

His lips are firm against yours, intense and hungry.

He pushes you and you go willingly, letting him push you against the nearest wall, not stopping to kiss you, introducing his tongue, letting him slowly coax your mouth open.

Which would have been wonderful to continue, but in that moment Lady decides to remind you both that it’s her box you’re leaning against and that she would like some peace and quiet. To do this she lets out a loud neigh, causing the two of you to jump, breaking the kiss as you almost jump out of your skin.

“Lady!” You chastiste her, all you get in response is a huff of air and her turning around so her behind is towards you. You huff too, focus returning back to Tommy. He’s watching you once more, letting his eyes wander as his hands stay on your face and waist. He’s warm and firm against you, making you want to stay like this for a good while longer.

“She doesn’t take kindly to being disturbed when she is trying to relax.” Tommy raises an unimpressed brow.

“Is this her or your way of telling us that we should take this elsewhere?” You give him a brief kiss, not letting him deepen it.

“I wish I could, but I need to stay and watch her, it’s my job.” Tommy sighs, leaning back and letting go of you. You wish he hadn’t, the night feels colder already.

“Another time then?” Again, gauging your reaction with intense eyes. You smile and nod, which gets an ever so slight smirk in return.

“Well then, good night.” Without more preamble, Tommy walks towards the stable door. He lights another cigarette, giving you a brief glance while doing so, before slipping out into the night.

----

(Bonus smut that has nothing to say for the plot of you want it)

#tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x male!reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fic #reader #reader insert #written #male!reader #readerinsert #3000

[getouswh0re]

pairing: clan head megumi x reader

genre: yandere, power impact, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, friends to lovers turned wrong, slight manga spoilers

synopsis: you’ve learnt not to test megumi’s limits, especially when he becomes the head of the zenin clan

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

With the two of you raised by none other than Gojo Satoru himself, Fushiguro Megumi and you have been extremely close throughout the years; despite not being related by blood, he would still treat you dearly, making sure that harm wouldn’t come your way.

While you appreciate everything he has done, at times warning bells would set off in your head whenever Megumi is being way too overbearing; you know for a fact that he cares about you, but your conscience reminds you that however nice his intentions could be, there are certain boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. 

The number of occurrences when he trails after you is already uncountable on its own, not to mention how he questions everything you do even though it’s technically none of his business. You’ve tried to hint at him that his actions are a bit too much at times, hoping the young man would respect your privacy and personal life. 

He apologises profusely afterwards, promising he would tone it down. But of course, with his tenacious personality, Megumi will not give up. Not when it’s someone he considers his lover a pseudo-family member. 

He could hear his heart shattering the moment you shyly tell him that he could be a bit too much sometimes, such words being way beyond what he could handle. Do you not love him? How could you do that to him, when he offers you his heart and soul? The world is a dangerous place, especially with curses and how his sister ending up bedridden because of a curse. It is justifiable that he protects you with whatever means possible, right?

As the two of you grow up, the relationship dynamics shift. You have lost count of how many times you have turned a blind eye to his advances and subtle hints on how the two of you would’ve been a wonderful couple. It is not like you hate him; Megumi is truly a wonderful person of good morals, complemented with his good looks, he is one that would be sought after by the ladies. 

Nonetheless, the raven doesn’t even spare a second to bat an eyelash at the ogling stares every time he is on the streets, ignoring whispers of admiration that ring in is ears incessantly. After all, he only has eyes for you only. 

So it is devastating when you reject his confession on a certain day, telling him that while the two of you may be close, perhaps it would be better off if your relationship stays this way, that you and him aren’t the one for each other when it comes to love. 

He tries to numb the pain; yet no matter what he does, the void in his chest would invariably be there, reminding him of the brutal rejection. 

For once Megumi’s walls finally crumples to dust and releases all of his bottled-up emotions by crying until his throat is sore and his eyes puffy. You are all that he has apart from Tsumiki, he can’t just let you go, not when you are just within arm’s reach. 

And the mentality finally hits the raven hard: if he couldn’t have you, then nobody else can. 

The two of you remain close, but unknowingly, Megumi starts to manipulate people in your life. With his intelligence and connections (courtesy of Gojo), having you all to himself is simply a matter of time.

Eventually, your friends distance themselves away from you, and your employers from your part-time jobs fire you out of no reason; not knowing what is with their abrupt hostility and the unexpected plummet towards rock bottom in life, you find yourself crying into Megumi’s chest in the early hours of morning, venting about how nobody wants you and life is a bitch. 

Being the only one you could rely on at this point, he puts on his act perfectly, comforting you with hugs and soothing words of comfort, reminding you that no matter how difficult circumstances could be, you could always depend on him no matter what. 

Perhaps you are wrong after all, a thought crosses your mind; perhaps Megumi really is the right one for you. Of all the people you know, he is the only one remaining by your side, being your anchor through highs and lows. What more could you ask from his unconditional kindness? 

And so the raven’s dreams finally come true as you confront him tearfully, telling him how you’ve realised he is the one for you, accepting his confession again. 

Megumi struggles with his emotions, but he would always do his best to make you smile. Playing all the cards of a romantic boyfriend, the sorcerer pulls you closer and closer, like a spider luring its prey into the web. He is the only one who could make you swoon, whom you would have a family and grow old with together, who is your soulmate. For a long while the relationship is stable as ever, but a crack starts to form after a certain incident. 

Ever since your boyfriend becomes the Zenin clan head, matters take a bad turn for you, and it would only be a matter of time until you unveil Megumi’s true colours. 

It all starts with your promotion towards a grade 1 sorcerer. You have been looking forward to this opportunity for years since it would help the two of you to sustain a living. You know Megumi has acquired a large sum of money ever since he becomes the leader of the clan, and life would be lavish for both of you. Still, you prefer to earn through your own blood and sweat, much to the raven’s displeasure. That’s why you keep insisting on taking the mission that would impact your promotion towards a higher rank. 

However, your promotion has been revoked at the last minute without proper reasoning; and after doing some digging, you are beyond enraged when you find out the one who caused all of this is none other than Fushiguro Megumi himself, thus leading to the first huge fight between the two of you. 

“Megumi. What the fuck? I just want to get promoted to a higher rank because it would make life easier for the two of us! What about living expenses and the bills we need to pay? I’m not going to sit still and spend your family money!” 

“Why can’t you just rely on me, love? I’ve done so much so that both of us could have a better off life than before. Now that I have in command of the clan and the money on my hands, what is the need for you to work and potentially hurt yourself? Are you trying to hurt me again?” 

Obviously, tension remain rigid between you and him. But it only takes a word from you that drives Megumi over the brink of sanity. 

“We need a break, perhaps you and me really aren’t right for each other.”

He is not going to let the same thing happen twice, is he?

So when you find yourself denied of any promotion and struggling to find other side jobs to sustain your own living after moving out of your shared apartment, you know for a fact that the raven has been pulling the strings behind the scene again, forcing you to come to the realisation that you would never survive in the world unless you go back to his side. 

Begrudgingly, to Megumi’s delight, you finally return to the home you once shared with him after six months. 

In time, as a glimmering platinum band sits snugly on your ring finger and Megumi’s calloused fingers lovingly caress your growing belly bump, you are ascertained that your fate would be sealed forever. 

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader #yandere fushiguro #yandere fushiguro megumi #yandere megumi #yandere megumi x reader #megumi headcanons #megumi imagines #megumi scenarios #reader insert #x reader

[valdomarx]

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

-

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

-

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

-

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

-

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

-

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

-

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

#PLEASE ENJOY THIS HOLIDAY ROMCOM NONSENSE #i am feeling festive and also sappy #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering… could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique “soul mark”, which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader gets a bit of a backstory here, with just enough concrete details to serve the plot in future chapters. Hopefully enough is kept vague for people to enjoy it. Now... Time to meet your new kids-in-law/the gremlins :) Previous Chapters: 1: In The Shadow Of Giants

2: Uncertain Destinations

“You already know my name, as well as my fate, and I have neither threats nor demands to make of you. I am at your mercy, regrettably, with nothing more to say. Shall we consider ourselves ‘introduced’? Or is there more you wish to ask of me?” You wonder, eying ‘Alcina’ with a bored expression. It felt odd to refer to her that way, even within the confines of your mind. She had been ‘Lady Dimitrescu’ for as long as you could remember; starting with your years in the village, and continuing through your months here at the castle. One day, perhaps, you would grow used to calling her by her first name. For now, you simply hoped to focus on other matters.

“Tell me of yourself, your past. Who were you before you came here?” Alcina asks, surprising you. What did it matter, now that you were stuck here? At first you shrug, avoiding eye contact, not wanting to open yourself up to her. But before long she’s placed a hand on your shoulder, applying just enough pressure to encourage you to speak. You win this round, you think.

“Somehow I doubt you’ll find it terribly interesting. I was born in the outskirts of the village, on a small farm, just like any other. I had a pet dog, went to ‘school’ with my neighbors, and spent my weekends volunteering with the church. The only thing you might not expect is that I lived outside the village for about a decade. Traveled for a while, never really staying anywhere for terribly long. Eventually, I got tired, and so I came back to help my parents with what little property they had left,” you explain, quietly. Being vague had been intentional, considering the nature of a few details. Did she need to know why you had left? Or that you had once revered Mother Miranda?... No, because if she learned that, it would not be long before she learned that you had changed your mind years ago. Something told you that she wouldn’t appreciate your lack of faith in her mistress. “That was six months ago, roughly. Barely got to spend time with my parents before I was ‘donated’ to the staff here.”

“Not many ever leave the village. Those that do rarely, if ever, return. How particular,” Alcina replies, giving a soft hum. There’s something in her expression that tells you she’ll eventually ask you to elaborate. For now, however, she seems content to move on. Internally you sigh in relief. “I suppose this is sufficient to sate my curiosity, for the time being. Now come with me, I’d like to introduce you to my daughters, to ensure that they understand you are… off limits.” With that said she stands, once more reminding you just how small and fragile you are in comparison, before heading towards the exit. You’re nearly forced to jog in order to keep up with her long strides. As she leads you through hallways, down a flight of stairs, and past several nervous looking maidens, she slows down the slightest bit, having eventually noticed your struggle. Admittedly, that’s more kindness than you would have anticipated. Perhaps she was used to adjusting her pace for her daughters?

Whatever the reason, you do appreciate it. Still, by the time you arrive at your destination, the castle’s library, your legs are feeling the smallest bit sore. Brushing off the ache, you follow Alcina inside. Then you’re taking in the sights, having not been here before, admiring the impressive collection. Glad I’m not responsible for cleaning this place, you think as you pass by dozens of filled shelves. Before long you encounter the three daughters. They’re sitting in a semi-circle, each with their own book, though they’re quick to sit up once they spy their mother. One by one they’re smiling up at her, not even sparing you a moment’s glance. Admittedly you’re glad for that. What good could come from their attention, especially when they don’t yet know who you ‘truly’ are?

“I’m glad to see you’re all in one place, my darlings. There has been a… development, of sorts,” Alcina says, speaking in the same tone one might use to address a faculty meeting. In a less intimidating household, it would have been much harder to hold in a laugh. Was this always how she spoke to her children? For their sake, you hoped not (though the concept was amusing). Regardless, it is at this point that the daughters notice you, with one of them looking intrigued enough to send a shiver down your spine. You’re pretty sure her name is Daniela, being the only one you haven’t met before today. A toothy grin spreads on her lips, and once you make eye contact you swear that she winks at you. This literally could not be any worse, you think, unable to stop yourself from frowning.

“Does it have to do with this little thing?” Daniela purrs, taking a step towards you. Instantly both Alcina and yourself are tensing up. While your soulmate shifts in front of you, an incredibly faint rosy tint to her cheeks, all you can do is pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers.

“This ‘little thing’ is not your newest playtoy, Daniela. Rather, they are my-” she hesitates, disliking the way the word feels in her mouth- “soulmate. I expect the three of you to behave, understood? At the very most, you are allowed to prevent them from leaving the premises, but even then I expect you to remain gentle. Have I made myself clear?” Alcina asks. Now she’s not the only one blushing, as Daniela looks so embarrassed that you wonder if she’ll pass out. Maybe now you’ll think twice about flirting with everyone you meet, you think, remembering the various rumors you’ve heard about her. For a moment, part of you imagines what your relationship with her would look like, were you to continue ‘courting’ her mother. Could this be a moment you could torment her with for life? Get some cheeky revenge for all the maidens who couldn’t risk it? A lovely thought, though one soon interrupted.

“Of course, mother. We will not lay a single finger on them, unless we have no other choice. Right, sisters?” Bela replies, turning to her siblings with an expectant look. Neither of them seem terribly pleased, but they nod, each giving their own verbal affirmations. All three spend a few moments glancing you over, reevaluating you now that they know who you are, appraising your worth. It’s not hard to imagine that they all find you lacking- at least in comparison to their mother. “Are introductions in order? We’ve met before, but I hardly know anything about them. It would be… nice to properly meet the newest edition to our family.” The way Bela says the words makes you nervous, and the way Cassandra grins only worsens the feeling.

“If you desire such, I see no reason to forgo such a thing. Perhaps the three of you could give them a tour? I must return to my duties, and I doubt they have seen much of the castle, given their… former occupation,” Alcina admits, softly. Was this a confirmation that you’d no longer have to spend every day working yourself to the bone? On one hand you were somewhat relieved, but you also regretted the possible loss of your preferred coping method. Worse, were you really going to spend who knows how long with the dreaded Dimitrescu daughters? They were going to rip you to shreds, at least verbally, you were sure of it. How could you ever meet their expectations? If they were anything like their mother, you would never be enough to satisfy them. Or at least that is what you assumed.

“I’ve seen a fair bit,” you interject, awkwardly, hating the way it brings everyone’s gaze back to you. Alcina’s lips twitch, as she fights back a frown. Evidently she didn’t appreciate you countering her suggestion.

“Please, we insist,” Bela fires back, a pleasant tone covering her thinly-veiled animosity. “I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time getting to know each other. You do want to learn more about your soulmate’s children, don’t you?” Something about the way she speaks makes you want to laugh. When you smile back at her, it’s without a hint of any placating intentions, rather a dewdrop of mischief. Bold of her to assume that you wanted to make her mother happy. After all, it was clear from her phrasing that this was a ‘test’, a ruse to ‘reveal your true colors’ to Alcina. But you were as uneasy about your part in this as Bela was, neither of you finding yourself a suitable match for Alcina. Despite the way she narrows her eyes at you, her mother is smiling again, glad that she had a way to keep you occupied for the time being.

“It’s settled then,” she says, moving to give each of her daughters a kiss on top of their heads. They giggle at the affection, looking rather proud of themselves. Then she turns to you, hesitating, clearly having the instinct to give you a kiss as well. Half of you wants to stand on your tippy-toes, expectantly, wondering if she’d do it (and how flustered it would make her). Instead, you pretend not to notice, accepting the awkward shoulder pat she ends up giving you. “I will see you this evening, for dinner. Do try to enjoy yourself. But don’t forget-” she leans in until her mouth is right next to your ear, breath tickling your neck- “behave yourself. I will not tolerate any tomfoolery, understood?” Alcina does not pull away until you’ve nodded, and you do not relax until the library door has shut behind her.

Except now you’re alone with her daughters. Wonderful.

---------------------------

Dealing with finances was not, to put it simply, Alcina’s ‘favorite’ activity. Although she employed someone to handle the majority of the paperwork, she made sure to go over it herself to ensure accuracy. There were many aspects to her business, being both legitimate and illegitimate, technically. One could never be too careful about their records. After all, failing to file tax returns had taken down Al Capone, of all people. Who was to say that such a mistake, or one in a similar vein, could not damage House Dimitrescu? Certainly it wouldn’t be enough to ruin them entirely, but it could lead to certain ‘nuisances’ bothering the village. At the end of the day, Alcina cared more about the impact it would have on Mother Miranda than anything else, even the possible decline of her household.

A nasty habit, really. Few knew the extent of her self-entitled devotion to the cult leader. The only bond that ran deeper was that she had with her daughters, who meant more to her than she could ever vocalize. Even then, she viewed them as a gift from Miranda, which in turn strengthened her love for the woman. Now that love leaked into everything she did. With a flourish of her pen, she signed away some of this month’s earnings. So what if she already ‘donated’ a large portion of her income to the village and its leader? Certainly this was a way to show the level of her devotion? Certainly Miranda would take notice, eventually? Praise her for it? Take Alcina’s hand in her own, thumb caressing her skin, eyes filled with a long-sought affection?...

The sound of passing footsteps brings her back into the moment, and Alcina stares down at the mountain of paperwork she’d yet to approve. With a deep sigh she readjusts her reading glasses, sets the finished document aside, then gets back to work. A part of her mind soon starts to drift to other subjects. To you, primarily. Would your affection be easier to gain? Steadier?... But could it, in any way, compare to Miranda’s? No matter how she tries to brush the thoughts away, they nip at her heels, circling her head like vultures. Only time would give her the relief she so desperately sought.

---------------------------

“So, don’t tell me you really think you’re my mother’s soulmate, right?” Cassandra says, somewhat grumbling, as you trail behind Bela. It’s less than five minutes into the tour, with the siblings having behaved so far, focused on actually showing you around. At her words, both her sisters started walking slower. Their gazes were still locked ahead of themselves. The way they positioned themselves, however, made it clear that they were listening. “Is it some elaborate scheme, hmm? Did you spend a dozen hours with the other servants, noting every last detail about her soul mark, before copying it? Do you really think that you’ll get away with this?” Well, ‘twas good to know who the most paranoid of the three were.

“Ah, yes, it’s all a great, horrible ruse. You’ve caught me red-handed, I’m afraid,” you chime, sarcastically. A hand goes to your forehead as you fake faintness. “I’m just so desperate to be scrutinized by yourself and your mother, to have my every movement watched, to somehow be less free than I already was. I simply… cannot… believe… that you saw through my bluff.” With that you give a dramatic sigh, pausing in the hallway to give Cassandra a judgemental look. If not for Alcina’s instructions to keep you safe, you’re certain she would have beheaded you on the spot. “I’m not claiming to understand the universe’s decision. But I’m also not giving up immediately, no matter how much the three of you scare me.” At that, Bela stops in her tracks, slowly turning to you. Instinctively you go to take a step backwards, only for Cassandra to catch you, holding you in place. Next thing you know, the oldest daughter is grabbing your head, staring you right in the eyes.

“Answer one question, and maybe I’ll make sure you don’t fall victim to some tragic, unfortunate accident. Can you see yourself loving my mother?” Bela asks, more intense than you’ve ever seen her before. Despite that, you don’t tremble, swallowing your fear long enough to reply.

“Honestly? I don’t know. She’s terrifying… and beautiful. Cruel to some of the maidens I’ve met… and loving to you three. I… I don’t know if I can love her,” you admit, gulping. “But isn’t that part of the point of trying? To find out? I am going to try, for both my sake and hers, to love her. To cherish her. What more would you ask of me? I cannot tell you how the days to come will go, whether or not your mother will enjoy them, or even whether she could love me. This is not a situation you can threaten into resolving the way you want it to. So let me go, finish the tour, and give me a chance. You owe your mother that much, do you not?” Soon enough the hands keeping you in place loosen their grip, and Bela turns away with a scoff. Honestly, you can hardly believe that your little speech worked. You aren’t given much time to celebrate, however, as the sisters quickly resume their walking. Before long, Daniela is speaking up between giggles.

“I like this one already.”

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #gremlin trio is protective #they're like #you're not cool enough for our mom #hey tumb please stop fucking up the order of my tags #this is the second time you've messed up my attempt at being funny

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (7)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 4.8k warnings: ✨kissin✨ 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“I can't believe this happened,” Natasha groaned, sinking further into her couch cushions as if it could swallow her whole. She held a bottle of cheap vodka in her right hand, her left digging through a bag of sour cream and onion chips. Her red hair was untamed for the first time since you’d known her with strands sticking out at the sides and pieces falling out of her braid. She took another swig from the bottle.  

“Maybe it’s not that bad?” you offered, though the slight alteration of your pitch gave way to your doubt.  

Natasha had been hired through her new security firm to work the art rooms at MOMA. You’d walked her through the hiring process and sat through hours' worth of practice interviews and resume building and anxiously bouncing your knee as you both huddled around the library computer and waited for the email to come through confirming her hire.  

She’d worked so hard for this job. She’d held it for almost six months without incident.  

Nat deadpanned as she wiped the excess droplet of vodka from her lips with the wrist of her sweatshirt. “I tackled a civilian, Y/n.”

“You said he was acting suspicious! Isn’t that enough of a defense?” you tried, betrayed again by your tone. You winced.  

“He was staring at me with those beady little eyes of his,” Nat grumbled, shoving a few more chips in her mouth, continuing before she had a chance to swallow. “He kept looking over his shoulder toward me like he was checking the surveillance of the exhibit, like he might be staging a robbery in his head or coming up with methods to blow it all to shit.”  

She huffed the hair from her eyes, only for it to fall down exactly back into place at the center of her forehead. “Turns out the only plotting he was doing was to get my phone number. Didn’t know that, of course, until I’d had him pinned to the ground and his hands behind his back.”

You sighed. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for veterans like Natasha to struggle in maintaining steady employment. Adjusting to civilian life never came easy. It was why so many soldiers chose to reenlist again and again. Even after years of PTSD and the fractured relationships their distance left behind, they boarded that plane. You’d witnessed it firsthand.  

“They fired me,” Nat admitted, sinking further into the couch.  

She was one at the VA the others feared. With her strong features and deep voice, intimidating glare and the aura of a woman twice her size, no one took to her be anything but the stone-cold persona she amplified. You were one of the few she let her guard down around long enough to see the fragile, loving person underneath.  

“I’m sorry, Nat,” you told her. You reached for her hand, squeezing it in your own.  

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Move on to the next one, right?”

You nodded. Keep moving forward. It was the most she could do.  

“But enough about me,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “What’s going on with you and the broody amputee?”  

“Nat!” You swatted her hard on the arm.

She was unbothered, shoving another handful of chips into her mouth. “Don’t pretend like it's not completely obvious how much the two of you are into each other. Every time I look up to take a sip of coffee at book club, one of you is making heart eyes at the other. Spill.”

You didn’t know where to begin. It felt like you’d known Bucky your whole life. But you started with the moment Sam introduced you at the VA. You told her about the moments at the library and how eagerly he read through every book you placed in his hand. You told her about the coffee trips to Luciana’s and the extra time he spent helping you set up for book club and cleaning up when it ended. You told her about the walks in the park and surprise visits at the library. 

There were a few moments you left out, like Bucky’s panic attack on the crowded streets and the flashback episode the fireworks created, but you told her about the good parts. The holding hands. The comfort you felt when he walked into the room. The kiss you’d shared just a few hours earlier.  

“Shit, we’re talking about James Barnes, right?” Natasha laughed as you told her he’d been the one to press forward to kiss you first. “Sam used to talk about him all the time before he started showing his face around the VA. I’d gotten the impression that he was barely keeping it together after what happened over there, like he was a ghost or something. Sounds like he’s got some game back though.”  

You nodded, a laugh on your lips though it felt a little drained. You thought of the picture on Sam’s desk and the vibrance in Bucky’s smile with his arms thrown over the shoulders of his closest friends. You thought of the version of the man Natasha described, the same one Sam referenced in the library the day before when he thanked you for helping Bucky find himself again.  

Curiosity crept it. It was more than that, though. You wanted to understand how a man so full of life and charm and energy could be wiped clean so quickly. You wanted to know, not for your own selfish indulgences, but so you could better understand the man you were falling for. A man who lost himself for so long and was only now starting to pick up the pieces again.  

“Do you know what happened to him?” you asked, a bitter taste of shame lingering in your mouth.

“I don’t.” Natasha shook her head and you sighed, nodding. You resigned to let the inquiry go entirely – it wasn’t something you’d ever ask Bucky about directly, but then Natasha cleared her throat. “I do know he came home with a Bronze Star, though. Sam said he won't even look at it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A what?”

“A Bronze Star. It’s awarded for exceptional bravery in combat,” Natasha explained. “My guess is it’s got something to do with how he lost his arm.”

You suspected as much. He carried himself with such distain, as if he couldn’t stand the body he was in. You’d felt the sharp cringe in his back whenever your hand drew too close to his left side, how he’d often stare at you in disbelief whenever you so willingly reached out to touch him. He’d never once removed his jacket in front of you and sometimes you wondered if he made careful avoidance of the mirrors in his own home, too.  

***

The first time you saw Bucky again, you’d kissed him on the sidewalk. Rushed up to him as you skipped steps descending outside the doors of the Brooklyn Library, hands pressed firmly to the sides of his face, and just... kissed him.

It startled him at first, enough for his arm to hold out at his side, frozen, for just a second too long before it settled on your spine. Your fingers gently traced along the stubble on his cheeks, smiling bright against his lips, and he’d kissed you back as tourists and locals filtered through the busy walkway as if they were little more than a blur around you.  

It became routine, it seemed, for Bucky to be waiting at the steps of the library for you. He didn’t shy away when you raced towards him, didn’t flinch when you reached for his hand, didn’t hold his breath so tight he could hardly focus.  

Instead, he was full of laughter. He made jokes that would put Sam’s cheesy one-liners to shame. He walked with you on empty residential side streets even when his anxiety had started to ease only so could take his time with you, dragging his feet along the pavement to stay by your side as long as possible. It was what he told you, anyway, and your heart just about leapt from your chest. 

You began to see glimpses of the man in the framed picture upon Sam’s desk. Outgoing. Flirtatious. Charming.  

Sam noticed the difference almost instantly. The way his eyes flickered over to the two of you, narrowed upon the absence of space between you both as you leaned against Bucky on the couch, books nestled in your hands. Sam had been standing in the doorway to book club, peering in through the window, when you noticed him staring. His smile grew wide upon his face, a very unsubtle and enthusiastic thumbs-up followed, and you waved him off before Bucky noticed he was there.  

No one in book club asked questions when after another meeting, you’d taken to resting your head on Bucky’s lap as you read, his own book settling on your shoulder. Tony peered over the top of his binding a few times with a curious stare the time Bucky had finished his book early and spend the remainder of the time reading yours over your shoulder, his finger drawing patterns on the top of your thigh, a kiss pressed to your shoulder here and there. Natasha smirked from her seat on the floor.  

It happened so quickly, how easily you’d fallen for him.  

Always in the smallest moments, in the sweetness of his smile, in the way he glanced over at you every so often as if he were checking to make sure you were still there. He opened up pieces of himself to you, set them gently into your hands and waited to see whether you’d keep them safe or throw them to the fire. It was agonizing for him – the vulnerability of trust – but you’d hoped that by protecting the pieces he showed you, he’d feel safe enough to give you more. You wanted it all. You wanted all of him.  

Sam insisted he’d never seen Bucky smile as much as he has been since he met you, including in the time before the war. It surprised you at first, until you remembered the photo on Sam’s desk. It was the same smile Bucky flashed you just moments before when he swiped a bite from your donut while you were talking to Tony. Teasing. Lighthearted. The weight of mere feathers on his back.  

“Y/n? You alright?”

Bucky’s voice drew your attention away from the tourists wandering around the park, taking photographs of the ducks at the edge of the pond and the old oak trees with leaves of fallen red and orange at their roots, the open branches giving way to a view of the Manhattan skyline.  

You blinked a few times, turning to Bucky as he sat on your left, his brows furrowed in concern. You must have been quiet for too long, which was unusual for you, so you pushed out a smile for him, a slight squeeze in his hand.  

“Just thinking,” you told him.

“What about?”

You pulled his hand into your lap, tracing over the lines in his palm absentmindedly. A distant pulse of his heartbeat could be felt in the tips of his fingers.  

“You.”  

He smiled at that, the corners of his mouth curving high up into his cheeks. A twinge of pink rested on the tips of his ears. He chuckled in an effort to hide his nervousness, though it lingered into his voice. “Me? I’m sitting right here.”

“What? I can’t think about you?” you teased, bringing his hand up to your lips as you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He watched you with the kind of awe that left him speechless for a moment. It was your favorite look on him; how his lips parted ever so slightly, the blue of his eyes shading into something softer, the muscles in his face slacking.  

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess that’s okay.”

“Good,” you smirked, setting in against his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, playing with his hand in your lap as you watched two little boys chasing the ducks around the pond, flapping their arms and trying to encourage the ducks to fly.  

You’d been sitting on the old, wooden bench under the tallest oak tree for nearly two hours when you glanced up to find a series of dark clouds rolling in and obstructing the cast of red and oranges filtering along the horizon. They hung heavy and ominous as a shadow lingered over the park.  

“Hey Bucky?” you started, sitting up straight as you gestured to the clouds. He had a sort of sleepy look in his eyes like he could have been content to sit there with you all night long. “We should probably get out of here before—”  

You felt the first raindrop on your cheek. Wiping it away, you looked up into the sky just in time as sheets of rain poured out from the clouds. You gasped, grabbing a firm hold of Bucky’s hand and yanking him up to his feet.  

“Come on!” you yelled over the rush of rain as it slammed onto the cobblestones in the park and shook the trees. Bursting into laughter, you threw the hood of your jacket up over your head in a half-ditched effort to stay dry. Bucky’s hand secure in your own, you took off running, only for his laughter to follow you as he chased you down the streets.

Rain drenched into your hair and ran in droplets down your spine, clothes soaked through to the bone by the time you realized where you were running. Luciana’s was just around the corner, calling to you like trumpets at the golden gates. Hot chocolate nestled between your palms, the warm hum of the radiator, nibbling on leftover pastries from the day. Truly, Heaven.  

By the time you reached Luciana’s, you’d nearly slammed into the door trying to get inside. The canopy was incredibly small, no bigger than space for a single person, but you reached out and gripped Bucky by the lapel of his jacket and tugged him beside you to pull him from the rain. You could feel the heat of his breath through his labored pants, the small puffs of warm air pressing out into the cold, and you laughed nervously at how close you were standing.  

“Her daughter has a dance recital tonight,” Bucky read from the sign posted on the inside of the door. “It’s closed.”

Sure enough, as you looked inside, the lights were out, chairs flipped upside down and resting on the tops of the tables. Rain poured against the windows, the mist of it still catching your spine and you pressed up closer to Bucky, nearly against his chest. You tried to control how fast your heart was beating, but you were almost certain he could feel it.  

“Okay, let me think,” you said, more so to yourself, as you looked out into the streets. They were empty, save for a few cars going about ten under the speed limit and a few teenagers sprinting by in backpacks and school uniforms. Your apartment wasn’t too far from here...

“Follow me!” you shouted over the rainfall, grabbing a hold of his hand.  

***

Bucky didn’t have much time to ask questions, because your hand was in his again and suddenly you were dragging him back out into the streets. You took him down the block, through a few back streets, and along a series of brownstones with fallen leaves littering the streets and the high arch of tree branches shading the sidewalk in small relief from the rain.

You skipped up a few stairs, shouldering open the door and pushed Bucky inside. He waiting in the small doorway as you dug through your bag for a pair of keys, wiping a line of rain from your forehead. You exhaled in relief as the door unlatched and you reached for Bucky’s hand again, guiding him inside.

One floor up and the first door on the left, you stepped inside of your apartment and quickly began rushing around to rid yourself of your jacket and the soaking wet shoes on your feet. Bucky stood planted on the doormat, the door closing slowly behind him.

Rain tapped against the outside windows, a dark cloud of grey hanging in the sky and casting a shadow into your living room. A single lamp illuminated the space in a soft yellow tone, touching over dozens of blankets hanging over the couch and bundled up in a basket on the floor, books piled high on the coffee table, newspapers with highlighter marks folded neatly on the kitchen table, and a few cardigans draped over the chairs.

“Can I make you coffee? Tea?” you asked from the kitchen as you wrung out your hair in the sink, shaking off the excess droplets from your hands. Bucky glanced down at the floor, realizing he was carrying water through the hardwoods in your apartment. He winced, quickly making his way back to the doormat.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he said, keeping himself as small as he could on the mat.

“Take your shoes off,” you instructed, pointing to the series of boots lined up by the door. “I’ll go find you some dry clothes.”

With that, you disappeared into your bedroom.  

Bucky stepped out of his shoes, wandering further inside. He’d been too out of it the last time he was inside your apartment, too unfocused with one foot across the ocean to really look around.  

He found himself drawn to the hallway leading up to your bedroom, with pictures hanging along the wall in old, wooden frames. Some from what looked to be your childhood, with softer features upon your face and dressed in overalls and bright pink sneakers. Then, a few from high school with your arms hung around the shoulders of your friends, mid-laugh. But there was one in particular that caught his attention. 

At the very end of the line, hung a photograph of you standing in front of a couple who looked to be your parents. You seemed to be a few years younger, judging by the cut of your hair and the softness in your features. On your left was a man dressed in an air force uniform, hands clasped behind his back. You were standing on an airbase, smiling, but your eyes were red, reflective. Like you’d been saying goodbye and were desperately pretending otherwise.

“This was all I could find,” you said, emerging back from the bedroom with t-shirt and sweatpants in hand. They were too large for you, men’s sizes, and Bucky felt his heart clench as he saw the faded air force logo on top corner of the shirt. He wondered if it belonged to the man in the photo.

“Thank you,” he nodded as you placed them on the counter.  

You were wringing out your hair with a towel when he realized you’d changed, too. The dampness on your skin clung to the fresh cotton of your t-shirt, pulling it tight against your chest. He exhaled a tense breath.  

"God, look at you,” you laughed, a hand reaching up to touch the tips of his hair as they dripped excess water down onto his shoulders. You pushed it to rest behind his ear, brushing the lingering rain from his cheeks. “It’s unfair, you know?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, confused. “What is?”

“That you look this handsome soaking wet.”

His instinct was to laugh, but the way you were looking at him made his breaths a little shallow, his stomach twisting into knots. You weren’t teasing as you said it, no lingering joke in its wake. He swallowed.  

“I... uh... what? No.” He tried to brush it off, but your hands had slid along his waist behind the hem of his jacket and it stopped him dead in his tracks.  

He held his breath as you flattened your palms against his stomach, running your fingers over what once had been hardened muscle before he let himself fall into darkness that took over his life for months. Now, his body favored something softer. You didn’t seem to mind though as you bit down on the fullest part of your lip, hands sliding around to his spine.  

“Let me take this off? Please?” you asked, voice low, with the kind of inflections laced within your tone that made Bucky shift uncomfortably in his stance. Your hands slipped up along his chest, lingering by his shoulders and you gripped onto the lapel. It was soaking wet.  

“You must be freezing,” you tried again, a little lighter this time, offering him a sweet smile. You must have noticed his apprehension because you softened a bit, letting your hands rest against his cheeks as you drew his attention to you. “It’s alright, Bucky. It’s just me.”

He searched your eyes as you gazed up at him and though he tried, he found no reason to turn you away. His heart was pounding in his chest, his right hand shaking a bit, but then, you leaned forward and captured his lips against your own, and suddenly, he was at ease again.

You kissed him and his right hand found its way to rest against your lower back, pressed flat against your spine; it clenched into the fabric, seeking more, and his fingertips brushed over a sliver of bare skin. He felt your hands slid down along his neck, to his collar, until they slipped under the fabric of his jacket against, resting on his shoulders. You were waiting for his permission.  

Then, as you pulled away from his lips for only a second, he nodded. Your lips returned to his almost instantly, and he wondered if maybe you were trying to distract him, or help to ease him as the fabric draped down off his shoulders. His heart was thunderous in his chest, louder than the press of rainfall against the windows outside, but there was a sense of calm in it, a nervousness certainly, but a comfort, too.  

He felt the weight of the jacket lift from his shoulders as you set it to hang over the chair. He felt instantly lighter, like you’d removed an anvil from his back, and he suspected it had less to do with the rain-soaked fabric than he cared to admit. He kept his eyes closed as your hands roamed along his shoulders, focusing on the feel of your lips as they traveled from the corner of his mouth along his jaw line.  

“Bucky?” you called so sweetly it nearly made his knees buckle.  

“Mmm?” He felt a little dizzy, high on the touch of your lips to his skin.  

He heard the soft ruffle of fabric as you grabbed the clean clothes you brought for him on the counter. Then, your hand slipped into his and he let his eyes flutter open. You were watching him with more affection than he was prepared for. His heart lurched forward, aching to jump right into your arms.

“Come this way.”  

He nodded, trailing behind you as you led him into your bedroom. The lighting was dim, barely casting in a soft orange glow from the lamp at your bedside. The clouds were still dark and heavy as they hung outside the windows, the rain obstructing the view of the brownstones across the street.  

“Here,” you set the clothes on the bed. “Get changed alright? I don’t want you catching a cold.”

You smiled for him and his heart just about burst. Then, you disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.  

Bucky stepped forward, running his hand over the Air Force logo in the top corner of the t-shirt. He picked up the shirt, and held it against his nose. It smelled like you, like maybe you’d been wearing it for years now, but there was a name written in sharpie on the inside tag. It was barely legible, but it didn’t look like your own. He tried not to think about who gave you this shirt and who wore it before him, and he quickly removed the damp one soaked to his skin in favor of the one you’d given him.  

He changed his pants, too, and a wash of relief came over his body as the chill faded from his skin. The clothes were warm, soft, and he raked his fingers through his hair, thankful it had dried enough to stop from dripping down onto the fabric.

“Hey,” you called, emerging from the bathroom. Your eyes paused on him for a moment, taking him in with the fresh clothes on and something unrecognizable flashed over your features – something that resembled sadness. You shook it off quickly, pushing out a smile as you walked toward him. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

You leaned up to kiss him again and he swore everything around him came to a sudden stop. You tugged him down onto the bed, sliding in behind him as you threw the covers over you. Bucky kept his back pressed to the mattress as you climbed over his waist, settling with just enough of your weight compressing against him that he found a relief in it.  

His right hand slipped along your waist line, sliding flat over bare skin, warm to the touch. You smiled against his lips and he found himself laughing as you peppered kisses along his cheekbones, his nose, his hairline, down along his jaw, and then finally – back to his lips again.

So lost in you, in the moment, he felt his left hand slid along the underside of your shirt, fabric brushing over the top of his hand as he touched over your ribs and inching closer to your chest. He stifled a moan as he cupped at your breast, swiping his thumb along the pebbled nipple. It wasn’t until he felt an echo of a muscle spasm at his left shoulder that he realized he wasn’t feeling anything at all.  

His eyes snapped open and he found his right hand at the base of your spine, your shirt untouched. Reluctantly he glanced down at his left side; the open sleeve of the t-shirt leaving no pretenses in its wake. He was empty there. A piece of him missing. He tried to swallow back the frustrated groan before it passed through his lips, but you heard it. You felt it, too.

“Bucky?” you questioned, concern littering your eyes as you pulled away. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not,” he replied quickly, brushing his hand along the side of your face until it drew a smile back to your lips. The way you were watching him, like maybe he could entrust you with the darkest parts of himself, if only for glimpse, and it pushed him to say more. “I just... I hate that I can’t hold you the way I want. There’s more that I would—” He groaned, head sinking back into the pillows. “I’m not used to... I don’t— I don’t know how to with only one... um...I haven’t— Not since before—”  

He bit down on the inside of his cheek, his ears flushing red. You seemed to understand what he was saying as you nodded ever so slightly; the fact that he’d barely learned how to manage his life again with only one arm – everything from washing his hair to getting dressed in the morning, to chopping vegetables and reading a book. He hadn’t even attempted to consider what it was like to be with a woman like this; to want to hold her and please her and touch as much of her as he could. It never crossed his mind before you.  

“I’m in no rush,” you said simply, like maybe you were implying you’d wait around long enough for him to figure it out. Or maybe, you’d be willing to help him learn again. You leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It’s late. You’ll stay tonight, won’t you? I don’t want you out in that storm.”

Bucky nodded, feeling a little dizzy as he stared up at you. Backlit from the soft glow of the lamp illuminating around you like a halo, Bucky would have said yes to just about anything you could have asked of him. Relief pressed over your features and you sank down onto the bed beside him, curling up against his right side.  

Your arm draped across his waist as his circled around your shoulders, fingertips drawing patterns along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, you reached over him to turn off the lamp and a comfortable darkness blanketed the room, the only break from the silence the gentle tap of the rain against the windowpane.  

For the first night in months, he welcomed the kind embrace of a dreamless sleep.  

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you