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sukiglycerin · 4 years

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it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?"

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself."

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money. these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken. you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though," bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap.

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

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textales · 2 years

Text

“My Hostage”

I have a habit of “interviewing” people – it’s a hangover from my days in talk radio and a skill I like to practice. I like doing this with taxi and rideshare drivers whom I hold hostage in the short drive from here to there. Not unlike “talking the ramp” of a song or filling the time before the top-of-the-hour network news feed, I enjoy the challenge of milking every morsel of info and learning as much as I can before arriving at my destination.

Last night’s trip to the corner bar was interesting. My driver whose name I can’t pronounce is from Syria. He is 38 years old and moved from Damascus just one year and three months ago with his wife and two children. He lives in Sacramento and drives to the Bay every day to work for a popular ridesharing service.

Back in Syria he was a professional chef. He said he couldn’t find a job as a chef here because he couldn’t speak English. He moved here not knowing a single soul – but has since met a friend who is helping him learn the language and our culture. I told him I’m impressed at how well he speaks the language given the short time he’s been here, and asked how he landed in Sacramento. After telling me they escaped through Amman, Jordan (a town I’d at least heard of), we were at my destination and out of time. Although cut short, I was relatively satisfied with the results of my friendly and efficient interview that took place in three minutes and 51 seconds. I thanked him for the ride, gave him a 5-star rating on the app, and walked into the crowded bar.

Once I got a cold PBR in hand I used my iPhone to look-up Syria on Wikipedia. Normally, I don’t think too hard about this stuff – after all, I’m just a simple guy from Montana, in a dive bar drinking a beer. I need new tires for my Chevy and I’m still waiting to see how much (if anything) I’ll get back in income tax money.

“Ah ha,” I said to Ricky on the other side of the bar, “Syria…one of those middle east countries…part of the Trump travel ban.” I told him about my ride with the Syrian and how he wasn’t wearing a turban, nor did he smell like incense from the corner store.

“It really pisses me off when Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity or Donald Trump would like us to believe that people from other countries come to America to suck the government teat and take unfair advantage. These poor bastards are refugees trying to escape horrific conditions we can’t even imagine. This guy is paying taxes, buying gas and groceries, and busts ass driving every day. He wants to be here and is making a contribution to our economy,” I blurted over the loudness of the crowd.

Ricky noted that Syria doesn’t seem like the kind of place I would like. Oh sure, there’s baklava and hummus, but the locals cut heads off us homos because, well, religion. Here in America we aren’t that obvious - in places like Indiana, Pence would prefer we just pray the gay away. If that doesn’t work, they’ll attach electrodes to your scrotum while forcing you to watch straight porn.

“I’ll have another PBR,” I said as the conversation quickly turned back to tires and taxes.

(from March, 2019)

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barnesandco · 3 years

Text

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (6/14)

Story Masterlist

The plum seller at the farmer’s market saves Bucky from being captured for the attack at Vienna that he didn’t commit, but is she really all that she appears to be, or are ulterior motives involved?

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 2022. Square filled: “Fake Dating”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: A brief mention of Hydra and the mission in Odessa when Bucky shot Nat. Mention of guns. General melancholy, I guess.

A/N: It’s another quite chapter, but contrary to the last one... I... actually like this one, so I hope you will, too.

Bucky sighs when the northern mouth of the Istanbul canal appears on the horizon like a herald of safety, indicated by the twinkling lights in the distant dark. He’s not naive enough to think this is the end, because he knows their journey is far from over, but this, the closest they have been to the edge of Europe, is a breath of relief. Next to him, he sees the shoulders of his partner in crime drop a little, the stress alleviating just a hint.

She had been watching him hesitantly since Odessa, where his eyes had gone colder and fogged over with a memory he does not like to remember. A flash of red hair, a through-and-through bullet wound, the Ukrainian winter deep in his bones.

That retrospective chill didn’t thaw until they got on the ferry. The seat on the upper deck had provided the full luxury of the mid-morning sun. It is getting late, now, and the night has settled in. He pretends not to notice how she shifts a little closer to him on the bench seat, and suppresses a shudder -- from something besides cold -- when her shoulder touches his.

He doesn’t remember the last time he let anyone besides Steve get this close to him. Of his own volition, that is. The years of Hydra manhandling don’t count, and are a far cry from the soft feel of her cardigan and the scent of baklava still lingering on her hands.

The words have been scarce and forced between them, layered with fake smiles and uncomfortable touches ever since a fellow passenger mistook them for a couple earlier in the day, and it was easier to play along, as they had in the train, than to offer a less feasible alternative. That’s why, when someone passes by, his gloved left hand finds its way to her bare one.

She smiles at him, then, and doesn’t let go when the danger has been crossed, until the speaker system is announcing their arrival at shore and there is the customary bustle of passengers eager to leave their ride after a long journey.

This, at least, is familiar. The old Bucky, he -- I, Bucky thinks -- worked at the docks for the seven month before he was drafted. The sight of people, crowds, eager to land and leave and fan out like marbles in the Brooklyn boys’ version of snooker, rings like a bell in the jumbled chaos of his brain, clears it with a sonic echo.

And then, his fugitive, his fake lover, is squeezing his hand with a smile on her face but her eyebrows drawn together just enough for him to notice.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs lowly, so only she hears it, and the ferry is brought in. They join the line and Bucky is glad to have something solid beneath him, even if it is only the wooden pier. Above them, Istanbul glitters like a hidden treasure, and Bucky recalls fool’s gold hair under layers of dirt and sometimes blood, how he used to joke; God’s given you such lovely locks, you should take better care of ‘em, Stevie, with a ruffle of his hair. It was as soft between his fingers as her hands are, as she dodges the people swiftly, and he allows himself to be pulled along.

He counts their steps as they find themselves in the city, with cobblestones under their feet, on their way to the nearest hotel with a vacant room because planning ahead is risky and a sure way to get caught, especially if you do it online.

There’s another thing she had had to compromise on with him. Plans don’t work if you’re in hiding, because you’re predictable if you know where you’re going and why. If you don’t know where you’re going, how the hell will the authorities? That’s why he threw out that map the first chance he had, apologizing gruffly when she returned from the ladies’ room in the train station in Kiev.

He has no illusions that he is in control, but this, he can hold onto, even if it is a feeble attempt at calling some shots. They may be heading south, but they’ll do it his way, and it’s worked so far.

While her eyes are fixed on the road ahead, Bucky looks into side streets, smaller, narrow lanes, on instinct, not sure for what, but it pays when he sees a vacancy sign flickering in the dark. So he pulls them both to a stop, and then towards the door under the fluorescent flickering.

The inn is warm and homey, not the kind of run-down institution one would expect. It’s a family business; he clocks the similar features of the young man cleaning up the table in the lobby and the older woman in a headscard behind the counter. Heading towards the latter, he takes off his hat and brightens his smile. This, too, is instinctive, intuitive, the charm taking over everything else, even as his heart is thrumming with the desperation to not get recognized.

Turkish rises to his tongue fluidly. “Salam,” he says, putting his hand over his chest in the customary way. “We’d like a room for a night, please,” he says when he notes that they don’t have any other choice, going by the fact that there is only one remaining room key on the wall behind the lady.

“Walaikumassalam,” she responds, the surprise only registering as far as her eyes. “Here you go,” she says, handing over a form to fill. Bucky slides it over to his “girlfriend” while he pulls out the money and a tip. The woman takes both and hands him the last key with a smile. “Thank you. We hope you enjoy your stay. Breakfast is from seven to ten.”

They nod, and voice their thanks, and head upstairs as the vacancy sign is turned off. The already muted sound of the few patrons in the lobby dulls as they climb the stairs, and the relief he started feeling near the harbor is more palpable now. He can rest, here. It’s a safe place, if only for a few hours, if only for as long as they are here.

That feeling is overtaken by embarrassment and mortification when he opens the door to see just one double bed in the room. The room is, like the rest of the inn, homely, but there is just one bed. A bathroom, a small closet, a little desk with a mirror above it, and the one bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” he tells her, and she laughs out a tired laugh, smile lines crinkling now as she reviews the situation before dumping her bag on the floor near the door.

She shakes her head. “After 14 hours in that ferry?” She asks incredulously, and then sits down at the foot of the bed, taking her shoes off, and curling her toes in the rug beneath her in a mesmerizing motion. “I’m not that cruel, and neither of us are children. We can handle sleeping in the same bed.”

“Fine.”

Bucky offers her to use the bathroom first, and sits down by the closet with the only gun he has. The Glock is taken apart in automated motions, and cleaned with a quiet efficiency, in the manner that has been executed a hundred times, but with the difference of the sound of someone in the shower, the soft rush of water and a gentler hum only he can detect. For the second time since knowing her, he thinks that if it weren’t for the way they’re both on their toes and on the run, this could be oddly domestic.

It’s the kind of scene -- minus the gun and the hairs still standing on the back of his neck -- that his past self used to dream of. Enough money to take his girl somewhere away from Brooklyn’s smoke and gray, and enough time and a heart pure from the soot that has now accumulated from killing to spend on her.

The remembered desire is so achingly nostalgic that he doesn’t realize she’s left the bathroom until her hair is dripping on the floor in front of him, and he realizes his gun has been clean and resting reassembled in his hands for several minutes now.

“Your turn,” she says, taking the towel off from around her neck. She smells of soap. After putting away the precious weapon, he heads inside and takes that shower. He turns the water so hot his skin is pink and scrubbed raw by the time he leaves, and goes out to find a razor from his backpack.

The bathroom door is open while he shaves, and he does it now instead of the morning because he likes the stubble, but it’s getting a little out of hand. She appears in the doorway behind him and leans against the frame, watching. His hands tremble lightly.

“You were worried she would recognize you,” she says, as the shaving cream gets lathered on. “It’s the hair, you know. If you get recognized, it’ll be because of those gorgeous locks,” and Bucky raises an eyebrow in the mirror. The loose grin suggests she’s joking, until she continues. “The videos from the fight in D.C. are everywhere, Barnes. Surely you know that.”

Bucky looks her reflection straight in the eye as he picks up the razor. “I’m not cutting it.” She waits until he’s done shaving and has rinsed off his face and dried it, too.

“I’m not saying you have to. Tie it back, maybe,” she suggests with a shrug.

“How?” he questions, and then walks past her into the room, repacking the shaving supplies.

She follows, stands behind him near the bed until he’s done and turning around. “You want me to show you?”

Bucky is the one to shrug, now. “Sure.”

Pulling the long sleeve of her shirt back, she takes a hair tie off her wrist and begins to comb her still-damp hair back. “You just pull it back -- it’s easier if you have a brush -- and then coil it together... and there,” she demonstrates, wrapping the hair tie around the bun she has formed with practised expertise, and Bucky watches her nimble fingers move agilely.

She removes the hair tie and hands it to him, and he tries it, but the small bun he gathers at the nape of his neck falls apart before he can put the hair tie on. “I can’t,” he mutters, frustrated.

“Do you want me to do it?” She asks, no judgement, her tone gentle and so open he can’t help but take her up on it.

“Okay,” he responds, swallowing down the tension that is now crackling like electricity. Sitting down at the desk, he watches in the mirror as she moves slowly, drying up the last drops of water in his hair with a towel. She combs her hands gently and sparks fizz down his spine, and he has to force his eyes open and his heart steady.

Her touch is soft and honey-sweet, as she gathers his hair near the nape of his neck, and then twists it around until it is what he assumes to be a tiny, spherical mass. The tie coils once, twice, and thrice, and she steps back when she’s finished, to let Bucky see.

It’s a revelation, in some way. Not quite as thrilling as the touch of her hands on the back of his neck or her nails scraping against his scalp, but warmth pools somewhere deep inside his chest, and he looks at the face in the mirror with a new perspective. The man looking back has a divot in his chin he hasn’t noticed and doesn’t remember, and his jaw stands out against the shadows of the room. Bright blue eyes stand out more, unshielded by a curtain of brown-black hair, and he’s aware of her gaze watching him but he can’t bring himself to address it.

Is this what finding yourself feels like, he wonders, but says: “Thank you.”

#SSB2020 #ayesha writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fake dating au

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sassysnowperson · 3 years

Text

What I've Been Up To Lately

Writing Edition

I'm in sort of a weird place right now with writing - I have a lot of WIPs but I'm not posting a lot outside of things that are written for exchanges. And I realized I was feeling sort of...lonely? That might be a good word for it. Writing, by default, can be a lonely thing. SO, since I have a tumblr and at least some of you followed me for my writing, I figured I'd ramble about it here!

If you wind up reading through this, and you're interested in cheerleading or maybe even beta reading some of the WIPS, let me know! I feel like some of the reason these are WIPs and not finished fics is that they're mostly stuck in my own head, and it could be fun to chat about the stories with someone else.

I'm also thinking I might do a weekly update or something with what I've been working on - this is a bit bigger of a summary, but it might be fun to do wordcount/story progress updates or something. What do you all think?

Anyway, onto the fics!

Posted WIPS

Arrivals, Departures, Connections: I have two more chapters written since the last one I posted. About 6.5k new words. I really need to coax a beta into looking at it though - I think there's good stuff there, but I also suspect it could be better.

Unposted WIPS

Going to put these under a cut - it got long, and in the WIPs there are some spoilers for the Mandalorian S2 and Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I put the FatWS stuff at the end, so if that's the only thing you're trying to avoid spoilers for, stop when you see Sam n Bucky.

Tattoine Fun Times: I have GOT to find a better WIP title for this one, since it is not fun at all. Takes place right after the end of Mandalorian Season 2, and in FINE Sass tradition, focuses on a background character - in this case the dancing girl chained to Bib Fortuna's throne when Fennic Shand rolls in. I have 2k written, and I've stalled out. Though, looking at it to write this summary, I think it might be because I actually found the end. I thought this was going to be a larger story, but I might be able to wrap this up pretty quickly. So...maybe coming soon?

Artist OT3: The expansion of my Bodhi/Cassian/Poe ficlet - Modern AU, Bodhi and Cassian are artists, Poe is their semi-reluctant model, muse and friend. 4.5k here - stalled out when I tried to figure out what the non-Poe Sequel Trilogy folks are up to. As it's getting to be a bigger story I want to bring more of the world in, give us the chance to see Poe's friends - who absolutely include Rey and Finn and Rose. Just need to figure out, you know, what they're doing.

Nile and Andy: The Old Guard fic - 6.4k written. I really loved these two and their dynamic with each other. Wanted to spend some more time with them. Andy and Nile drive around Europe in a vintage Porche, talk about history, eat baklava, argue about music, muse about the future, and cry a little bit. I actually really enjoy this one...not sure why I haven't finished it yet.

Sam N Bucky: Ah, wait no, this might actually be why I haven't finished anything else. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier fic - 16k written. I did not realize I had written that much of it until I did the wordcount just now. It's not a complete surprise, I guess, I've loved Sam since CA:TWS. But I haven't loved Marvel much since then, so I thought I was free! I thought Star Wars was the only Disney-owned trashfire media property I was going to care about creatively!

I regret to inform you all that they got me. Anyway, this is 16k of slowburn pining and domesticity (and dealing with trauma and therapy feelings because it's still me).

And that's what I've been working on! I don't have any exchanges active right now, though I do have one work in an anon collection right now that will be revealed in my name...next week? I think. Well, if you've read this far, thank you for reading my rambles!

Have a snippit of SamBucky bickering as a treat:

The shield ricocheted off the edge of the dock and came rocketing back toward Bucky, who caught it on his metal arm.

"The first time I did that, the shield fell straight in the water, and I had to break out the snorkel and go diving to find it again," Sam shared, mostly because he knew it would irritate Bucky.

"You didn't," Bucky said, his eyes narrowing, and flung it at a nearby cluster of trees. Three bounces later, Sam caught it in a grab that rolled with the momentum of the shield, lessening the impact.

"Oh I did. I still think it smells like swap, what do you think?" Sam said with a grin, before hurling the shield back.

"I—" Bucky caught the shield "—think that Steve made a mistake. I'm taking her back. I'll treat her right. Dump her in the swamp, the nerve."

"When did the shield become a girl?" Sam asked. "That seems like a strange choice."

"Don't listen to him, baby," Bucky said, petting the edge of the shield.

"Weirder," Sam informed him. He was not going to be jealous of an inanimate object. "You know what, I bet it would skip well. It's a good shape for it."

Bucky glared at Sam.

"Come on," Sam said, warming up to the idea. "It could have practical uses. We might need to fight evil speedboats."

"We are not going to need to fight evil speedboats," Bucky protested.

"All the shit we've seen, can you really say that with confidence?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I know what this is."

"You trying to lose the shield in the ocean is what this is," Bucky said.

"You know I'm gonna be able to skip it more times than you," Sam continued with a knowing nod. "I understand, consider it dropped."

Bucky growled. He looked over at the shoreline. "Stick to the shallows," he said after a second. "And if we lose it in the water, you're the one going in after it. I have a handicap." Bucky waved his vibranium arm in Sam's direction.

#star wars #the mandalorion spoilers #fatws #fatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #sambucky #the old guard #fic talk

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thomas-mvller · 3 years

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Tag games x 3! :D

Hello sunshines! I was tagged to do the following games a while ago and thought on doing them all at once because why not?

Tagging: @miasanmuller @minimalloss @havertzz @torunarigha @boyvampr @wulcanbiology @sherlockisonfire @jxrdanhenderson and whoever wants to do this! as usual, it’s okay if you’d rather not doing them! in fact you don’t have to do them all, you can choose one of your liking and go with it if you wish or just do none, completely up to you :))

Here we go:

1) I was tagged by @/jxrdanhenderson to spell my url with songs. Thank you nicole! hope you’re doing great :D

Rules: spell out your url using song titles and tag ten people

T.V. Man - The Bolshoi Human fly - The Cramps Orpheus - David Sylvian Mirror to my woman’s mind - Peter Murphy Athol-brose - Cocteau Twins Spring - Kim Jung Mi - Michael who walks by night - Strawberry Switchblade Veteran of the psychic wars - Blue Oyster Cult Life in Tokyo - Japan Love & Pride - King El Satanico Dr. Cadillac - Los Fabulosos Cadillacs Reward - The Teardrop Explodes

This is hands down the weirdest playlist I’ve made but i love it???

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2) I was tagged by @/miasanmuller and @/wulcanbiology to this this tag. Thank you both <3

- Last song: Pourquoi tu me fous plus des coups ? by An Luu - Last movie: But I’m a Cheerleader (THE POTENTIAL…) - Currently reading: nothing - Currently watching: Shadow and Bone but I’ve fell asleep twice at episode one - Currently listening: I’m not sure what to answer here but if it’s a podcast question then nothing. If it’s song wise then same as first answer! - What is anti-poetry to you: I have no idea, not a fan of poetry tbh (about to be canceled in 3, 2, 1…) - Currently craving: saw a meme mentioning baklavas and now i want to try one so much!!!

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3) I was tagged by @/torunarigha to post my top 7 comfort films. Thank you mia <3

NOW i know i’m breaking the rules already by posting eight instead of seven but these are just………… comfort movies to me. I tend to reach to them when i’m under the weather or something.

No need to read the following but each has its little story: let me start by saying the hoe who made Pulp fiction can choke but i just don’t know why i truly enjoy watching this movie, whenever it’s on tv i leave it on. Shrek… i don’t think i need to explain that one. I remember running into Chicago late at night on tv and I don’t even like musicals but this one got me hooked. Kill Bill it’s just…….. so good, both movies are really good! last year some channel here showed it like crazy and guess who watched them every single time? 🤡 now here’s the thing, I know Sex and the City 2 literally represents all the things i’m against of but this movie came out during a time when my group of friends and i were super close so the idea of traveling somewhere to have fun with them seemed ideal. I’m not a huuuge harry potter fan but i do enjoy watching those movies occasionally, as in if they’re on tv (like right as we speak i’m watching the chamber of secrets) i tend to leave them on and honestly i could choose any of the first five movies but the Prisoner of Azkaban is my pick for now (Order of the Phoenix is a close second). Ghibli movies are the epitome of comfort movies and Kiki’s Delivery Service hit close to home because i watched it around a time where i wanted to gain independence so yeah… and last but not least I can’t really recall how I ran into To Wong Foo but i thought it was fascinating to see wesley snipes being that commited to play a drag character in such a great non mocking way, idk this movie really boosts my mood in fact i’ve watched it twice lately!

Alright! i’m done. If you’ve made it this far then have a nice week! :))

#ask games #yaay!#ahhh i missed doing tag games!!

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

For prompts: We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

i’m sorry i got carried away.

There was something familiar about the woman waiting in line. Something Steve couldn’t quite make out. Maybe it was the curve of her body or those almond-shaped eyes that are tugging on a memory long tucked away. No, it’s defiantly those eyes. He knew those eyes anywhere.

They were the same shade of dark brown, with flecks of hazel and honey swirling in them. He knew how they looked when the sunlight would hit them, how they looked when she was furious when she was upset when she was beyond happy. He knew every emotion that she’d been able to give without saying a word through those eyes.

He’d loved those eyes. They filled his sketchbooks, even now two years after high school. He still loved her.

As the crowd cleared with their baked goods and hot coffee, Steve was finally able to draw himself up to full 6’0 height and smile down at her.

Her. Peggy.

Oh. She wasn’t alone.

His smile faltered at the sight of a little blonde boy clinging to the backside of her leg. He looked to be almost two years old, if Steve had to put an age to him. He looked just like Peggy with her nose and dimples. He had the brightest pair of blue eyes.

“Hello there,” he breathed to the shy, little boy, giving a wave of his hand that only caused the boy’s face to flush and hide. He turned to look up at the boy’s mother, his heart lurching in his throat. “And hello to you.”

Peggy’s laugh is just as he remembered, bright, and full of life. She reached over the counter to hug Steve, pressing a fond kiss to his cheek. “Hello to you.” She looked nervous as she dipped down to pick the boy up and put him on her hip. “You look amazing, Steven. This place…told you it would pick up.”

She knew Steve had a desire to work in his ma’s bakery after he graduated. He had an amazing hand when it came to decorating cakes and cupcakes. He loved to experiment and made beautiful baklava and cinnamon rolls that still lingered on her mind with a taste for them.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around at the busy place. He could hear his ma in the back, Bucky was out delivering their daily orders. Sam had just left after opening for them. “Yeah, you’re always right. Who's this?”

He felt too awkward. They’d dated in high school until she left just after graduation to return home in order to help her mother with taking care of her brother who’d suffered a career-ending injury with the military. He loved Peggy. He just never got to tell her that and seeing her here before him, it made him want to gush but become aware she had a child now, it seems. She was most likely married or at least dating, knowing her.

“Michael,” the little one said proudly, curling his h’s the way Peggy did when she was excited. “My name’s Michael and I’m two.” He held up three fingers, making Steve laugh. “And mummy and I just moved here cause she said she missed News Yorky.”

Oh God, that was adorable. Steve found himself smitten with the little boy.

“You’ve had a son?” He turned his eyes to Peggy, nodding his head at Michael, not really good with kids.

Peggy looked almost nervous as she held the little boy close to her chest, eyes fluttering towards the door. “Can we…talk?”

Michael sat in the little corner Steve had designed and painted for kids to enjoy themselves while their parents drank coffee and talked. He could hear the little boy humming loudly and playing with the art supplies. He turned to look at him and back to Peggy who’d nervously wrapped her hands around the blue coffee mug.

“When I left, I was distraught. Saying goodbye to you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I was broken up about having to say goodbye to you and my brother. I didn’t know his condition. I didn’t know what happened and no one would tell me a thing until I got home because of the secrecy of the matter.”

Steve’s broad hand slowly laid over her own, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her wrist. “You did what you had to do, I don’t blame you. I only wish we stayed in contact.”

“I do too. I got so busy with Micheal and my mother and my career, I-I…” She sighed and closed her eyes, her fingertips curling around the mug to the point Steve thought she was going to break it. “At the time, I thought it was stress…missing my cycle, the sickness. Having to see your brother like that, I-I…”

Steve frowned as she stuttered. This was hard for her, but this was Peggy. Strong, confident Peggy. He unwrapped her hands and took both of them into his own. “Peggy,” he’d never sounded so serious before. “Were you…hurt?”

Her eyes snapped to his and she frowned, opening and closing her mouth. “What? No, Steven, I was pregnant!”

His hands dropped hers and he sat back, staring at her.

Oh.

“He’s…mine?”

Peggy didn’t need to say yes. He knew. Steve knew in his heart that she wouldn’t lie about this. No one should. And he could see it in the way Michael held the pencil with his right hand, the way he looked when he was concentrating on scribbling on the paper.

“Why didn’t you call?!” Steve furiously whispered, turning to look back at her. She almost looked close to tears, but he couldn’t help the betrayal he felt. The hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?! An email. A text. Fuck, Pegs, even a letter!”

She sat there, looking impossibly small. Blinking harshly and Steve’s throat was tightening. He could feel his heart-shattering. When she didn’t reply, he continued, “I would’ve been there for you! I would’ve been by your side through it all! I would’ve supported you! Done everything I could! I would’ve moved there to be with you. I love you and you couldn’t even tell me that you were pregnant with my child?!”

If Peggy had an answer, Steve didn’t hear it. He was storming into the back of the bakery to clear his head. He needed to think. He felt incredibly guilty for yelling at Peggy but he was right in these feelings. He was betrayed. He was hurting. He had a goddamn child that he didn’t know of, who grew up so far not knowing him, and thought of him as a stranger and why?

Why hadn’t she told him? Did she not feel the same way? Was he that horrible of a boyfriend in high school that she didn’t trust him? Was she ashamed that her boyfriend had been American? The father of her son was some Yank?

A string of curses in Galiec left his lips as he rolled a piece of fondant out on the table, his hands shaking. What had he done so wrong that he’d not been allowed to be there for the birth of his son?

“Youse can’t say those words. Bad words. Stave?

The soft voice caused Steve to look up from where he was still bending over the metal table. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks, trying to dry his face off. For half a second, he thought it was Peggy but no…no, it was her son.

His son.

Back in this kitchen, where he wasn’t allowed.

Had Peggy taught him Gaelic? It was important to him, to cling to that part of his identity that his mother had taught him. That he loved his heritage and wanted to share it. She taught him that?

“Hey, buddy, whatcha doing back here? You can’t be back here.” He knelt down to look at the kid, seeing now how Michael had his freckles and his hair. Oh and that smile, that was his ma’s smile right there.

The boy thrusts a drawing at Steve’s chest with a bright smile. It was what he’d assume was the outside of his bakery, with its pretty fairy lights and potted plants. “I made dis. For you! Cause you’se got a pretty place and yummy cupcakes.”

His lips twitched into a smile as he rubbed his fingertips over the crayon. “It’s beautiful, buddy. Tell you what, I’ll put it up on the counter for everyone to see. Here, let’s get you back to your ma.” He picked up a sugar cookie, still warm, and passed it to the boy in trade for the paper.

Steve was a little stunned to see Peggy talking to his mother. His mother loved Peggy and said she was the daughter she never had. Her leaving had hurt his ma just as much as it had him. He was a little more stunned at seeing the sun setting. How long had he been back there crying and cursing?

“Look, mummy! Look!” Michael waved the multi-colored cookie at Peggy as he ran over to her, climbing into her lap.

“I see, Michael. Did you thank Steve?” The boy’s head nodded, shoving a bite of the cookie into his mouth. Her eyes slowly looked up to Steve before dropping back down. She whispered something to Michael and then Sarah before slipping Michael into her vacant seat.

Crossing over to Steve, she stood with a foot between them, looking up. Her eyes were rimmed pink, a telling show she was crying. Peggy hated to cry, especially in public.

“I fucked up. I can admit that. I have no grand story to tell you. I have no excuse beyond my own failure and my own fears.” She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hands clenched behind her back to stable her emotions. Steve knew that sign. “When I realized I was pregnant, I panicked. My mother panicked. My brother panicked. My mother was a traditionalist and forbid me any contact with you. I allowed her to get into my head. I allowed her to control me in times of panic. I wanted you. I loved you. Hell, Steven, I love you. I should’ve come straight back home but I did not know what to do. Between Michael being dependent on me, my mother being dependent, and-and your career here. I couldn’t ruin any of that and I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. It takes away none of the damage I’ve done and I will forever be apologizing for that. I am not asking your forgiveness because I do not deserve it. I am not telling you to go bond with a-a boy whose a stranger to you and vise versa because you deserve to make that choice, I am-”

Steve cut her off, mid-sentence by closing the distance and capturing her mouth in his. By no doubt he was hurt, crushed, betrayed, still crying even but he couldn’t hear Peggy tear herself apart one more time.

“You talk too much, English,” he teased her, cupping her face. She opened her mouth and he shook his head. “Don’t. Am I hurt, betrayed, crushed? Whatever the hell you want to use, yes. God, yes I am. I won’t lie about that. But you have a child, you have my son and you went through all of that alone. You should’ve contacted me but you didn’t and now we both have to go through the consequences of that together. We have to work on that together. But I can understand why you didn’t with your mother…”

He sighed out of his nose and pressed their foreheads together, aware Peggy was crying at this point. Fuck, so was he. “I love you and never stopped and want to continue to love you. I want to get to know my son and…and…work on this. On us.” He pulled Peggy’s hand to his chest and squeezed it gently. “Let me take you to dinner – both of you.”

Peggy let out a blubbering sob and pressed her face into Steve’s chest. She sobbed to the point Steve’s entire weight was supporting hers, her arms wrapped around his waist and his around her shoulders. He rocked her side to side, kissing her temple. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you and I will forever be making this up to you, Steve.”

Yes, Steve was hurt. Absolutely betrayed. This wouldn’t heal overnight either, but he was relieved. He knew how manipulative Peggy’s mother could be, always controlling her daughter and her desires and reflecting them onto her. She threw a fit when Peggy moved to Brooklyn and lived with the Rogers family for years for an international program. She was finally home, away from her clutches, and he could help take care of his son. Get to know his son. This would a while to heal from but Steve would. They’d heal together and find a perfect balance between them.

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Peggy has a child #I mean they both do #Comfort/Hurt #angst/comfort #kinda terrifying #sorry nonny this isn't what you want

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thecandywrites · 3 years

Text

Blood For Gold Part 6

Ok, so for the parts that are in italics, that’s meant to signify that they’re speaking a foreign language. What does marinai sound like in my imagination? Have you ever heard Hebrew or Arabic or even Aramaric poetry? How GORGEOUS it sounds? Like that.

Again, a thousand thanks to @kriskukko for letting me do this and borrow their art, thanks to @punkhorse96 for all of your amazing feedback. Enjoy.

Blood For Gold

Part 6

You were barely able to walk up the steps of your own home. Demsey Draft had rutted you so good, so many times in every way you could ever want and made you feel like a treasured, beloved goddess and certainly worshiped you like you were one, so much so that your legs felt like jelly, but the happy, dreamy smile on your face was priceless. You went straight upstairs and dressed in something else moura but something clearly less sexy but much more comfortable and simply had your hair down in soft curls as you applied a face mask so that your complexion tomorrow would be as glowing as your insides surely were right now. It had been just what you needed.

You needed to get the taste of that pregnancy warding tea out of your mouth though. Although you knew that much more of these meetings, you were going to associate the taste with Demsey and soon you’d drink it and instantly get turned on.

“Did you have a pleasant evening My Lady?” Rose asked as she helped you take off your face mask before you would eat dinner, although you didn’t really have much appetite for it since your late lunch, early dinner feast with Demsey Draft had sated your hunger quite perfectly in every sense.

“I did, the gardens were beautiful, the perfect diversion from the week I’ve had.” You answered.

“I’ve heard news my Lady.” She informed you.

“What news?” You asked.

“There was another moura bride came off the train just today, she’s supposed to be at the ball tomorrow.” She informed you.

“From the stables?” You asked.

“Yes, came with a very large party, there had to be dozens of people with her, staff of all kinds, she went straight to the Palace of Windsor. Annabelle and Martha saw it since the party came out into the market a little by the station, all of them were loaded up into a few dozen carriages, all of which belonged the Palace of Windsor, they took up most of the train and most of the cargo, it was a moura train too, they could tell by the way the particular rail cars were decorated on the outside. Annabelle said she could smell the exotic fruits herself, mainly mango, pineapple and papaya.” She told you as you swooned at even the very mention of those exotic fruits.

“Did Annabelle see the bride?” You pressed.

“Aye, a jewel orc, would shame a peacock or any other jewel.” She answered as you blinked in surprise.

“Well color me surprised. I did not think the royal family of elvish and human decent would want a jewel orc. But hopefully they treat her well. I look forward to seeing her again, whoever she might be, there are only five jewel orc brides at the stables, Callellea, Delmalina, Benyana, Adrinelle and Savamelle and thankfully I am friends with all of them, I look forward to seeing whichever one of them came. Can you tell the cook to make a sheet of baklava? I wish to take some to whichever of those girls will be there tomorrow.” You insisted.

“Absolutely, I’ll tell him at once my Lady.” Rose smiled happily and left you again to do as you instructed.

Meanwhile Demsey had made it to his own home and promptly crashed on his bed, his body spent and sore in places he didn’t think could get sore, but he was sated in every sense and very happy and relaxed the way any epic rut would leave anyone.

“Why do you smell like a woman?” Seirge asked as he came to call Demsey down for dinner and sniffed the air deeply, getting that particular scent, which this was only the second time he was smelling it. It was good but peculiar and he couldn’t place his finger on it or explain why it was peculiar.

“Because I was with one hell of a woman.” Demsey murmured, his voice half muffled from his pillows since he was laying face down on his bed, his body was spent, his stomach was full and now all he wanted was the sweet bliss of sleep.

“Sowing more wild oats are you?” Seirge prodded.

“Something like that, don’t...don’t tell anyone.” Demsey pleaded.

“You also smell like you’ve eaten already.” Seirge probed as he picked up scents of food too.

“Because I have, I’ve had my fill for tonight, all I want is sleep.” Demsey insisted as he barely pulled his blankets down on the other side of the bed and rolled over and tried to tiredly take his own clothes off that you had helped redress him in, such a sweet, thoughtful thing too. It had actually almost started another round, trying to dress each other but it was an act that was surprisingly intimate yet sentimental too.

“So does this woman have a name?” Seirge asked as Demsey cracked an eye open fixed his brother with a look.

“Does it matter?” Demsey returned because even if Miss Audra Draft worked in a whorehouse, he was feeling particularly possessive at the moment and not wanting to share such a treasure with anyone, let alone his brother.

“I guess it doesn’t, I was just curious.” Seirge shrugged nonchalantly. Even though he could smell her better with every piece of clothing his brother took off, he could find her by scent if he had to.

“Miss Audra Draft, she works at the Red Velvet Rope.”

“Is that why you don’t have any pocket money anymore? Because you’ve been blowing it at the casino?” Seirge instigated.

“Sure.” Demsey chuckled as he undid as much of his clothes as he could before he had to sit up to take it off of himself and once he took off his clothes Seirge then started cackling laughing at all the love bites, claw marks and other evidence on his brother’s body of an intense sexual encounter.

“Whew, nevermind, I can smell all of her on you. Damn, you know I never pegged you for the type to be into moura women, but obviously you had a good time.” Sierge laughed.

“I had the time of my life. Mouras are...they are always the best at whatever they decide to do and she’s...she has no compare.” Demsey praised with a dreamy smile.

“Even to your Countess Audravienne Morrigan?” Seirge pressed.

“...ok, I take it back, there is only one creature above her, and that is the Countess, but the resemblence between the two is uncanny, they even sound similar, which is probably why I prefer Miss Draft to any other except the Countess and that is only because I guess all mouras look the same after the Gold Plague, did you know that the gold that rained down from heaven was actually the gold dust ash of billions of heavenly moura who died in the plague? I had no idea that that is what it was. But Miss Draft was happy to give me a history lesson and even fed me a proper moura feast there, it was some of the best food I’ve ever had in my life, and is why I’m not hungry for dinner cause I’ve already had every appetite except for sleep satisfied today.” Demsey insisted as he pulled on a sleep tunic before he crawled into bed.

“Well next time you go, take me with you, even though I doubt you’d share, I wouldn’t mind at least seeing what you see.” Sierge said as he blew out the candles in his brother’s room so his brother could get some sleep before also throwing on some more wood the fire in the fireplace.

“Uh huh,” Demsey murmured as he fought to hold onto conciousness now that he was in bed before Sierge left him in peace.

The next day you happily gorged yourself on breakfast before you spent most of the day getting your hair washed along with your body and scrubbed, pampered, moisturized and massaged and then perfumed before Richard and Agnes and Jane would be coming to pick you up in the early evening and take you to the ball in their barouche box carriage as your ladies got you ready in your gown that had been dropped off just that morning along with several others, a few of which you couldn’t remember Agnes ordering, or yourself, the ones you couldn’t remember were very clearly more moura in style then the rest but you paid it no mind since the dress you would be wearing tonight was a superb gold gown, close to the Regency style, but clearly had some moura touches which you didn’t remember asking for or ones that Agnes hadn’t asked for either but you were so happy and so excited to see an old friend, you didn’t care. You wanted to look like the perfect balance between moura and English while your thoughts drifted to who exactly had come. You were both hoping yet fearing it was Callellea, you didn’t want her sweet soul anywhere near here, but the others you would still be very happy to see.

However no sooner had you gotten ready than the Morrigans were there early to pick you up as you took a deep stabilizing breath and then went down to see them only to be met with many more trunks that were being brought in while crates of fruit and other foods were delivered to your kitchen.

“What’s all this?” You asked as you gestured to it.

“A gift, apparently the Young Dauphin Ramsey has brought in a moura bride, apparently a good friend of yours from Dorierra, they had tried to deliver it to us at Broadcove but once they learned that you were no longer with us there, it was promptly picked up and all brought here. We hope you have room for it all.” Jane answered as she eyed your new treasures and gifts with delight.

“Well then I must invite you to stay the night tonight then dear Jane to help me unpack it all and inspect everything.” You insisted as she giggled excitedly and nodded in agreement.

“Well we must be off before we run late.” Agnes insisted as she ushered both of you out of the house and into the carriage where Richard was waiting.

“So the Dauphin brought a moura bride from the stables?” You asked Agnes and Richard once inside the carriage as you sat next to Jane.

“Apparently he brought two, will be pitting them against each other for his hand, as if the courting market wasn’t fierce enough.” Agnes answered, because her hopes that Jane might catch his eye after your own betrothal to someone else were being dashed to pieces at the very thought.

“Do we know their names? Because I know every other moura bride at the stables, if she is a close friend that could be helpful and tie us to the royal family.” You mused, knowing that was what would incite them to be a little more honest and forthcoming with you- offering what they clearly wanted.

“They’re long, overly extravagant, barely pronounceable foreign names.” Richard waived off and you bit your lips to keep yourself from arguing with him. You would know as soon as this carriage would get you there but in the meantime you tried to remain patient as the carriage seemed to travel even slower than usual, getting behind other carriages who were all going the same way and whoever was already on their way was taking their own sweet time and it took every ounce of willpower not to get out of the carriage and just run there and beat them there. But you were a lady, a Countess at that, and you had sweet Jane to think about, you couldn’t make this hard on her because the Morrigans had learned early that you had a soft spot for Jane and made a show of pressing that soft spot whenever you displeased them. It was plainly barbaric.

Finally upon arriving at the ball, you finally caught sight of them. Czarina Callellea your best friend in the world and Princess Benyana, another friend, perhaps not as close as Callellea though. You nearly squealed at seeing them as your moura marks lit up like fireworks as theirs did the same as they practically ran to you and even though it broke tradition and rules of decorum, they pulled you into a hug and you practically melted into their arms, all three of you nearly crying all your makeup off at the prospect of being reunited as the three of you hugged tightly before they each kissed your cheeks as you did the same.

“Why are you dressed so English?” They asked as you pulled away to look at each other as they spoke in marinai- the moura mother tongue to you.

“Because the family I married into commanded it.” You answered which made them both scrunch up their noses in disgust.

“I heard from them that both of you are here for one man?” You asked them.

“Yes, a Duke Demsey Voyambi,” they answered and your heart stopped as all air crashed from your lungs as your face fell.

“Is he a bad man?” They asked you worriedly reading your reaction.

“No! No, he’s perfectly fine, kind, funny and friendly and actually a friend of mine, we are at first names, his grandfather protected the king in battle, that’s how the family got their Duchy, and they have a soap business, that’s how the family makes their money, but he’s attached to Lady Whitesale. His sister told me directly and when I asked him in private, he did not deny it, I do not know her though. I don’t know what she looks like. But, are you sure that the Duke sent for you?” You asked.

“No the duke didn’t send for us, the royal family did, they wanted to see more mouras in their gentry, and the Duke is orc but is a purist and therefore only a jewel orc will do in that kind of situation and apparently he isn’t the only orc in gentry here, the offer is the same that you got from your Edward.” They informed you. Your own contract with Edward had been extremely generous but was largely ignored until after his death when the Morrigans were forced to head it or risk losing everything.

“Oh,” you answered as your heart constricted painfully into your chest.

“Well, when you are not trying to seduce the Duke, there are moura clubs here, I have only had a chance to go to one, but I hear the others are amazing.” You answered.

“Oh good,” they blew out a breath of relief before the Duke was announced to have arrived.

“Time to get work I guess.” You bid them, trying to sound cheerful but you could feel nothing but disappointment.

“Did you have your eye on the Duke?” Callellea asked as she took a step in that direction before Benyana clearly didn’t wait for her to go ahead and come over to them before Callellea stepped closer to you again.

“I did, but with him already attached, I withdrew. But if he likes you better than Whitesale, then, more power to you. It’s ok, go, see how handsome he is, because he is very handsome with a nobility of character that will be rarer than the diamonds we are wearing.” You nodded in his general direction before she withdrew and left your side and when they withdrew the Morrigans were on you in an instant, reminding that that would be the only time it would be acceptable for you to break the rules of decorum before you simply marched away from them and towards the punch bowl.

“No sunrise is as beautiful as the ones in your eyes.” Came a masculine purr, in marinai again, near your ear and his voice sent a shiver down your spine and made every hair stand on end, but in a good way.

“Leumeni.” You turned to see your old lover who came to stand beside you, also getting himself some punch.

“Since when do the stables let a male leave?” You asked him, sticking to marinai again, not knowing when you’d get a chance to speak it again.

“Since they offered for us to come and chaperone our sisters since they can not be without those in this country apparently.” He answered.

“If I could hug you I would.” You told him.

“Oh I know, I am fighting not to pick you up off your feet and spin you around, but I was informed of the rules all day.” He rolled his eyes as you smiled sadly in response.

“How come you have never returned my letters?” He asked curiously.

“You wrote to me?” You asked with a confused crown.

“I did, I have been writing to you about once a month ever since you left, checking up on you, but I have never heard back.” He answered.

“But I have been writing to you and the rest of my friends but I have never heard back either. I do not know if the mail system is reliable or not, I have gotten no letters from anyone, not even my parents or my siblings. Once I left the stables all communication has ceased, sometimes the letters come back to me undelivered, other times, they just vanish. And I do not know what happens. I have even tried to hire specific carriers to travel directly, but all they do is take my money but offer no results or vanish completely and I am still left with nothing.” You answered and the more you talked the deeper he frowned.

“Then I will look into it on your behalf. We have been invited here by the royal family. There is no way any moura will ever marry here if they can’t even get a letter home and back.” He insisted before you brought him closer.

“When you and the rest of all who came here get a chance, come to Mirador, that is my residence. I have things for all of you to read since I can not speak of it now.” You implored.

“We will come, tomorrow if you’ll have us.” He offered.

“I have company tonight, make it the day after tomorrow.” You insisted.

“Absolutely, we will be there.” Leumeni insisted before he bowed and retreated again.

“Do forgive me for overhearing Countess…” Dauphin Ramsey began as he sidled up to you, continuing to speak in marinai.

“Oh, your Grace, I apologize, I shouldn’t be talking about my personal affairs at a time such a this and I did not realize that anyone else not from Dorierra would be speaking marinai.” You immediately apologized as you curtsied in place.

“Oh please, do not apologize. You should be able to speak any language you wish. You must not worry, very few know marinai here in England, but my mother has taught it to me as my mother tongue as well, English is so very difficult to speak, much less read or write and you speak it so beautifully and the marinai accent only makes the most humble language sound ethereal. It seems my cousins have not done their homework and research before inviting more mouras here without hearing from the last moura to grace the court about how she is doing and getting along. To hear of such troubles with something as simple yet important as your own private letters to your parents going astray, especially in our royal mail system, is unacceptable, I will have the matter looked into and investigated as soon as possible. You did the right thing by coming forward and telling the truth of the matter, to a trusted friend at that and my only apologies are that I overheard it but it concerns every moura on English soil. And if there is anything else for you that I may do, please tell me. I must apologize for not coming to you sooner, I was trying to respect your mourning period.” Ramsey reassured you as you blinked in surprise.

“Sir, I fear what repercussions may happen if you do though.” You murmured with an apprehensive look.

“My dear Countess, no you must never fear anyone ever. You are a royal moura, you technically outrank me, I believe your former rank of Sultana should still hold true and as such that puts you on even ground with the Queen herself. You have more royal blood running through those veins than all of the royal family put together. We mouras are still in our golden age. The Gold Plague did nothing but made the survivors more precious and valuable than ever. While this matter is sorted out, please, when we won’t be seeing each other at balls, won’t you consider joining me at the Midnight Peacock? They dance every moura dance at the stables and we’ve even invented our own. You would be the bell of the ball even if you showed up in burlap.” He offered.

“Uh, well, I don’t know if that will be permitted your Grace.” You slowly answered.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because of this.” You said as you pulled out the list, the one that Agnes and Richard had dictated to Jane to write down of suitors to avoid where his name was at the very top and handed it to him.

“Who gave you such a list?” Ramsey demanded as he scowled deeply.

“It was dictated to me by Count and Countess Morrigan, they forced their sweet and innocent daughter Jane to write it down faithfully.” You answered honestly.

“Every moura in the country is on this list.” Ramsey realized before his face changed to smug understanding.

“Well Sultana, is it alright if I address you as such?” He asked.

“Please, just Miss Audravienne if you must be formal, Audra if you wish to be friends.” You suggested as that seemed to delight him.

“I will also look into this. I understand that you also had a contract between the Morrigans and yourself and the stables, would you mind if I also looked into that, because I believe all three are related.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Well, I do not wish you to worry about it, but I would simply like for your permission to look into these personal matters, us mouras must stick together, birds of feathers flocking together am I right?” He pressed and you smiled in relief.

“Then you have my permission.” You decided.

“Then just call me Ramsey, my dear friend Audra.” He insisted as he took your hand and kissed it charmingly.

“If you are to take that, you might as well have the other one.” You insisted as you pulled the other one from your large clutch.

“Give me just a moment please to pass these onto my best man and I will return to you in just a moment my dear Audra and when I return, if I may be so bold as to claim the first two dances.” He cooed before he left, and while you did feel some guilt for using his Grace to deal with your problems with the Morrigans, you had always been suspicious of them for creating some kind of unseen barrier, as you also wondered if your own staff that followed you from Broadcove also had a hand in it. But having the cousin of the royal family look into the matter may be just as good as royal intervention you supposed since you could no longer count on the stables to do so any more than they already had.

Meanwhile Demsey and his brothers had almost frozen in place to see two jewel orc moura practically strut up to them. They had never seen jewel orcs before and to see them in person, was an experience to say the least.

“Which one of you is Duke Demsey Voyambi?” Benyana asked before Demsey’s brothers pointed to him.

“We were told by the royal family to meet your family in particular. It’s so wonderful to see orcs take our rightful place in high society. Sadly this court is late, in other courts in Europa, orcs take up over half of all the gentry, yet all we see is what? Three, maybe four orc families here?” Benyana revealed as she looked around, frowning at what she saw before she turned her attention back to Demsey and his family and smiled again at them, her prettiest, most charming smile at that.

“It is quite an imbalance.” Demsey nodded in agreement.

“So won’t you take a turn on the dance floor with me, your Grace? I have been practicing the dance steps for the last two weeks. Even on the train here I practiced. I want to see if it was worth it.” Callellea began, with a direct and hopefully look to Demsey before Benyana could get her hooks into Demsey herself.

“Of course.” Demsey readily agreed as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor while his brother Sierge asked Benyana to dance.

“I have heard a rumor about you already.” Callellea murmured to Demsey as she took his arm as they made their way through the crowd and pulled his arm to her side tightly to pull his ear to her.

“You have?” Demsey asked as he couldn’t help but grimace slightly.

“Sultana Audravienne informed me that you have an attachment to a Lady Whitesale?” She pressed.

“Ah. I see. That is actually not true. My sister Kiera insisted that I did in an effort to keep Countess Agnes Morrigan from trying to play matchmaker with me, but when Audra asked me about it, I didn’t want to embarrass my sister by contradicting her, and I should have had more honor and told Audra the truth, I barely tolerate Lady Kate Whitesale because she’s disingenuous.” Demsey confessed.

“Well then you should correct that misunderstanding before I fear it will be too late.” Callellea warned with a pleading look.

“What do you mean too late?” Demsey asked as he then turned and started leading Callellea to the side of the space that wasn’t crammed full of people.

“Then you must declare it to her and make the truth known, because she feels the former is true. Princess Benyana and I were invited here to try to court you, since it is apparently known that you will only take an orc for a wife but that you at least give the Sultana enough attention that you are deemed a distraction at least or a threat at most by her other pursuer. We were sent to try to seduce you away from her so that someone within the royal family may have the freedom to pursue her without you distracting her. When we told Audra of this she looked absolutely gutted and heartbroken because she had her eye on you. But her own honor forbade her from pursuing you and now I fear that her own fear of the royal family will not permit her from expressing it either. If you do not return the attraction then by all means, let her be pursued by others, but if you share and return her feelings, then by all means, say something, do something. Otherwise she will be snatched up before the end of the evening and the vicious cycle begins anew.” Callelea implored him as he stared at her in surprise.

“Do you have any care for her? Do you have any partiality or attraction whatsoever towards Sultana Audravienne?” Callellea pressed.

“I do.” Demsey insisted.

“I know we are strangers but she told me that you are of noble character, one that we would have a hard time finding a comparison to in this court. Is that true?” Callellea pressed.

“If Audra said such things, then I have no choice but to do my utmost to live up to such high praise.” Desmey answered as his own affection for you grew as his smile turned bashful.

“Then you should have my confidence. Do not repeat this or let on that you know- but she suffered greatly under the Morrigan’s roof. She suffered unspeakable horrors. So much so that she was not allowed back to the stables, despite everyone in the stables contesting it. But she had no choice but to sign a contract that she would not return to them unless her very life was in danger, I only know this because I broke into the stable master offices and found the contracts and read them myself. But she is forbidden from talking about it because she signed it. She can’t go home and she is left to fend for herself when in a society, women have no voice or autonomy, it leaves her at the mercy of the men around her and the men around her since she has left have done nothing but bring her harm. And it is clear that the Morrigans are still treating her badly, despite the contracts that they would not. I saw the way they were practically breathing down her throat the moment I left her side. Is there anything you can do to help her?” Callellea implored.

“I have asked but she won’t give me a direction.” Demsey confessed as his heart once again reached out to you.

“Then ask again, ask every time you see her, be sincere and genuine, do not give up. Gain her trust and respect. She has spent her whole life preparing for a life that did nothing but hurt her. Now she is free to at least marry who she wants, she deserves to marry for love and she deserves for someone to treat her like the treasured angel she is, if you are lucky enough to catch her eye and gain her friendship. Then prove you are worthy of it and don’t fall for this trick.” She urged as Demsey looked away from her and saw that the Dauphin was walking away from you, with several pages in his hands as he recognized the list in them.

“I will do all I can, in the meantime, if you could just dance one dance with my brother Tzane, I would be most appreciative, and do not worry, Tzane wouldn’t hurt a mosquito that was sucking the blood from him.” Demsey requested.

“Thank you. Now go to her.” Callellea urged as Demsey realized this must be the same Callellea who wrote that note to you.

“Oh, Voyambi, tell me, do you know anything about this?” Ramsey asked as Demsey crossed paths with him first on his way to you.

“Yes I do. Two weeks ago, my sisters and I were out to tea at Worthingtons we all overheard Countess Agnes dictate both of these lists to Sultana Audravienne, Jane had no choice but to write them down. Agnes also heavily criticized the Sultana every time she took a bite of food or a drink of tea, and forbade her from putting cream or sugar in her tea, or from eating any sweets whatsoever. And then that very same day, they went out to dinner at the Savoy where they were joined by Count Richard Morrigan who repeated the same direction. Even though the Sultana lives at Mirador, the Morrigans seem to continue to try to control every breath she takes.” Demsey ventured, enacting his own vengeance on your behalf.

“Had you not gotten it from her, I was going to be making your Grace aware of it, because I could cleary tell that the Morrigans planned on excluding and alienating half of the court,” Demsey added.

“Because you’re a good man, in order to protect the Sultana Audravienne, might we agree that you did? So that would take any blame off of her when this is investigated?” Ramsey asked.

“You may, I would happily shoulder that.” Demsey immediately agreed.

“Good man, have you met the Princess and the Czarina yet?” Ramsey asked.

“Yes, they’re both exquisite, as all mouras are but jewel orcs are clearly a class of their own. Their majesties were wise in inviting jewel orcs into the realm. It will only strengthen the court, diversify it before it can be solidified and bolstered, in fact I was just on my way to the Sultana to ask for her opinion and advice, since surely she must know them better than anyone else here.” Demsey praised, knowing that’s what Ramsey wanted to hear because out of everyone in the royal family, Dauphin Ramsey was the only one unmarried, and it didn’t take but a half wit to know who exactly had brought the jewel orcs in, it left no doubt in Demsey’s mind that it was Ramsey’s idea, but if Ramsey’s reputation was true, he would ruin you the moment another moura prettier than you could be brought up in the stables and he would no doubt “trade up” and Demsey felt he needed to protect you from that.

“I agree, enjoy them tonight, I would hate to see either of them leave without so much as a betrothal, but alas we may only take one wife.” Ramsey shrugged before he left, happy and practically tickled that Demsey corroborated the story as already quite the case was building up against the Morrigans.

“Sultana Audravienne,” Demsey called to you before a look of complete relief and happiness washed over your face at seeing him again while your moura marks practically glittered in delight, despite your own heart breaking after overhearing the Duke’s conversation with the Dauphin.

“Duke Demsey.” You greeted as you both curtsied in place since that was as “formally informal” you could be in this setting.

“I really need to talk to you,” Demsey said as he came to stand as close to you as society would allow, but lowered his voice so that no one would hopefully overhear the conversation.

“About the Princess or about the Czarina? Both are exquisite, it’s actually Princess Benyana that has the most to offer you, her brothers make most of the soap in the stables, I’m sure if you courted her, you would be able to get the recipe, or especially if you wed her- it could be written in the contract with the stables that you could take it, make it and sell it for your gain as well as hers since upon marring a bride from the stables, proof of income and ability to care for her, even in the event of your death, are a requirement, which I’m sure will be easy for you to establish. Since the royal family invited them here, they would support you in that request, I can’t imagine how many hundreds of thousands of pounds you would make if you did. I know I would buy it by the case.” You informed him as you tried to put on a brave smile but couldn’t look him in the eye because if you did the tears that were rimming your eyes would fall and looking down into your own glass and trying to furiously blink them away just as Ramsey came back to your side.

“Buy cases of what my dear Audra?” Ramsey asked as it was Demsey’s heart that stopped as it felt like each one of those words in that sickeningly romantic cooing tone from Ramsey’s mouth was a stab into his being as anxiety began to eat at him as fear that he was already too late frayed his nerves.

“Oh I was telling the excellent Duke Voyambi that if he were to court Princess Benyana, he had the most to gain from her besides her exquisite beauty that has no equal, or talents that set a standard of perfection that even I can’t live up to, also since it is her brothers that make most of the soaps of every variety under the sun, moon and stars, and that if there would be a courting between the two, he might ask for the recipes to make them to sell so that England would have a proper moura soap, that anyone who wanted to buy a piece of luxury could own. I know of so many mouras who would buy anything even remotely similar since our moura skin can be so delicate and sensitive. Surely he could make a fortune if he did so and thus support our great empire through his own fair and just taxes your Grace. But then again it is the Czarina Callellea’s brothers who make some of the best food in all of the moura stables and are proficient in all the moura court styles of cuisine and can blend them all together seamlessly. Surely a cookbook penned by her brothers would be worth it’s weight in platinum. Even as large as I’m sure it would be. Moura food is almost impossible to find outside of the stables and I mourn the absence of a good moura restaurant here. I have tried to give my own cooks some recipes from dishes from my own court that have been passed down through my own family but they are limited in what ingredients are available here and they don’t have the same culinary training that moura chefs do. And I long for a taste of home.” You explained as Demsey wanted to scream in protest because you were giving Ramsey all the ammunition he needed to force this issue on him but at the same time he could see you were clearly just trying to support him and do what was best for him and his family but at this point, he could care less about business, you were suddenly more important to him than selling another stupid bar of soap, he needed to think quickly and try to say something if only to tip you off to the truth.

“Then it would be better for his Grace to court the Czarina since your Grace’s appetites for all things moura are practically insatiable, perhaps her brothers can cook up something that will finally sate your appetites since it’s clear that they came with their sisters.” Demsey suggested to the Dauphin but you couldn’t help but secretly agree. Yalin had warned you about her son, how he was insatiable and how he was on a search for the perfect moura mate who would be both perfectly moura yet able to also be perfectly English and told you which days her sons frequented both the Red Velvet Rope and the Midnight Peacock so that you would not go on the same nights as him.

“Perhaps, in that case I must insist that both the Sultana and your family must come for such a feast.” Ramsey invited. Not realizing what Demsey was really getting at.

“It would bring us great honor your Grace, in the meantime, might I have the first two dances with Sultana Audravienne?” Demsey asked.

“I believe I have already claimed them.” Ramsey argued smugly.

“The Dauphin has claimed the first two dances but you Duke Demsey, may claim the two after that if you are not already engaged.” You offered before you offered your dance card for him to sign on as he readily did.

Then the music started not long after as the Dauphin then led you to the dancefloor as you did your best to remember the steps as the Dauphin did nothing but flatter you and all moura gifts which you apparently possessed upon him just looking at you, all in marinai the whole time as you couldn’t help but notice Agnes’ scowl at you that you were dancing with the Dauphin and every time you saw her gaze you looked away, feeling her gaze strike at you and feared for Jane and what Jane would suffer because of your dancing with the Dauphin. You were ever so grateful when it was Demsey’s turn to dance with you.

“Audra, please, I really need to speak with you.” Demsey insisted.

“I’m so sorry your Grace, I’m so parched from dancing with the Dauphin, might we get some punch?” You suggested a little louder for Ramsey’s benefit before Demsey smiled in relief and happily led you away from the dancefloor as the two of you got punch and then slipped through the crowds, both of you weaving through like a thread through a tapestry until finally you found a mostly abandoned gallery of art as you both made a show of staring at all the art.

“So what would you like to say?” You murmured quietly.

“My sister lied to you a couple of weeks ago and instead of exposing the truth and potentially damaging her reputation, I didn’t say anything, and even when you asked me privately, I did not confess and I’m sorry. But there is no attachment between Lady Whitesale and I, I can barely stand her in truth. Kiera was simply saying that to protect me from the Countess Agnes Morrigan, but also at the time I didn’t want you to get the impression that your own dowry changed my mind on the matter. I was hoping to find a moment between then and now to talk to you but my own affairs with business have had me completely swamped and I have not had a moment of peace. While the Czarina and the Princess are lovely, I still prefer you to them, I...I have a partiality to you and I have been drawn to you since the moment we shared a cabin on the train those couple of weeks ago. And while I want nothing more than our own friendship to grow stronger, I also want to declare…” Demsey began before you were interrupted.

“Duke Voyambi, this is where you’ve taken my dearest Audra, I have wonderful news, the Czarina and the Princess would both like to invite you to stay at the royal palace of Windsor while they are here, they’ve been looking all over for you trying to tell you. I mentioned your desire to eat moura foods and the Czarina’s brothers jumped at the chance and have already left to prepare it for you themselves while the Princess’ brothers also have insisted on making you new soaps and beauty treatments, in fact they’ve insisted on going to your residence to sample what water is available there so that the soaps may be custom tailored just for you and what you need, they were most insistent.” Dauphin interrupted as he hurriedly walked into the room and over to you to steal you away as he took your arm and wrapped it around his own pullying you away from the Duke which you begrudgingly allowed.

“Oh, that’s very kind, but they just dropped off gifts at my residence and I have yet to even look at them and I was supposed to be inviting Countess Jane Morrigan over tonight to help me.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“Oh but even I must insist, even my sister the Dauphine Charlotte is also going to be staying, it seems every moura within the royal family will be coming, and you, the Czarina and the Princess will be the special guests, really even if your own guest is to be Countess Jane Morrigan, I was told by the Queen herself that I was not to take a ‘no’ for an answer and do whatever it was within my power to convince you to say yes.” The Dauphin insisted.

“Then I will agree upon two conditions.” You decided.

“Anything.” The Dauphin readily answered.

“That I may go home and pack myself, for there are certain things I wish to show the Czarina and the Princess,” you began.

“Of course, even if you were to compile a list, I’ll have my best people on it and your things will be at the house of Windsor by the end of the party.” Ramsey insisted.

“That’s very generous but the items I have in mind are actually hidden away, in a place I do not want it’s location disclosed, because they are very precious and sentimental items, I insist on doing it myself, and I promise I shall only be a moment, I shall leave early from the party tonight and then once I have what I need, I shall arrive at Windsor Palace as soon as I can.” You reassured him.

“So what is your second condition then?” Ramsey asked.

“For the Voyambi family to join as well.” You suggested in English before switching to marinai.

“How else is the excellent Duke ever supposed to side on a moura wife after just one dance when he has to share her with a whole ballroom of people? Really it would open his eyes to see what he would be getting into and who knows, his tastes might surprise us but in order to remain subtle, I should think the whole family should be invited, especially since he holds his sister’s opinions in such high regard, that way the mouras will have a chance to charm his parents and the rest of his family as well, and might as well invite Jane Morrigan too, no need for her to be involved directly with your investigation, she is still a sweet innocent young thing, let her parents pay for their own sins without inflicting any more upon her.” You suggested sweetly.

“Clever girl.” Ramsey praised in English.

“It’s how I’ve managed to stay alive,” you smiled but the look in your eyes thrilled Ramsey but Demsey knew better, with the revelation that Callellea disclosed to him. He knew it was probably only because of your wits that you survived even this long.

“Well upon the insistence of the Sultana that your family also be included and gave a very convincing argument, so let us not disappoint her, I will go with you to inform your parents so that they may send for your family’s things directly, and you’ll be staying at the Windsor Palace as well.” He insisted before the three of you went, as you took the Dauphin’s arm but reached behind you to grasp Demsey’s hand and give him meaningful look over your shoulder before you reluctantly withdrew from him as more people came into the gallery.

Once the Voyambi’s were informed you had the Dauphin go with you to the Morrigans to invite Jane to come with you as your personal friend to the Palace of Windsor with you of which Richard and Agnes were thrilled and happy to indulge you.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 6 #Oh now we are getting to the really good stuff #this is going to be so fun #regency era orc period drama #orcs #orc love story #moura

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thereluctantinquisitor · 3 years

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🍄🌿🌸💫 Adiran!

Send me a Soft OC Ask <3

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

Adiran doesn’t really snack much outside of meals, but when he does it’ll be something simple like fresh fruit during the warmer seasons, and maybe soft cheeses with bread/crackers when it’s cooler. His favourite comfort food is this type of sweet that only gets served towards the end of courtly events (the closest real-world analogue would probably be baklava), and it is one of the few sure-fire ways to stop him from leaving events early!

As for making meals, he really doesn’t have much of an idea how to cook. Like, at all. He’s always had his food prepared for him, so it is just not a skill he ever picked up. He knows how to, say, cook something over a fire for long enough to make it safe to eat, but stick him in an actual kitchen and he’d just stand there like a square peg in a round hole.

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

Adiran mostly shows he cares without using words, because he finds the words too difficult to articulate and ends up flustering himself before he can actually make his point. He really is an acts of service kind of guy, in that he’ll do things to try to make your life easier or more enjoyable, and he’ll try to do them as casually/covertly as possible. It’s as though he doesn’t want you to notice that he’s going out of his way - so much so that he actually convinces himself that that is the case. But really, deep down, he hopes you will see that he’s trying, even if he has no idea how to respond if he’s actually approached and asked about it/thanked for it.

The second part of the question’‘s a bit weird, because I mean, this would vary from person to person? I’ll just say how Adiran likes to be showed he is cared for, which is usually through physical connection. Touching, holding his hand, embracing, etc.. Because he is so prickly, most people avoid this like the plague, assuming he’ll bite their head off for trying. But in truth, he’s been so starved of that kind of physical connection that someone literally reaching out to him is both a bit scary and really, really needed.

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

Early morning air, sweet foods, autumn leaves, deep voices, domestic animals, dueling, fresh fruit, horse riding, trickling water, the feeling of sand beneath his boots, drinking, wrestling/grappling (even though he’s not very good at it), laughing, magic tricks (he likes to try to figure out how they did it), reading, sketching, sunsets, listening to soft singing, thunderstorms (provided he is inside), skipping stones, candlelight, the sea, the smell of fresh herbs, colourful fish, coffee/tea. (There are more but I give up for now lol)

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

I really like the fact that he is a trained mesmer, but refuses to use his abilities the way his other family members do. Simply put, mesmerism is one of the thaumic arts that allows the user to swap emotional states with their target by swapping their internal reserves of thaumic essence (every living creature has this reserve, but very few know how to use it). There is a lot of training involved, both in control (because the swapping of reserves has to be seamless) and a kind of empathetic acting (to successfully create the genuine emotions they want their target to feel, and then conceal the ones they receive in turn). While Adiran learned the skill, he is generally uncomfortable using it. He did once, when he was in his early teens, to try to convince a friend of his (one of the palace servants) to stay, but he was panicking and unpracticed and it backfired badly. His friend basically told him what a breach of trust it was, and left even faster as a result. Adiran, of course, pretended he didn’t care, but it’s something he’s never forgotten and continues to regret.

#bladeverbena #soft oc asks #adiran #stonebreaker series #there's a reason mesmers are viewed with disdain lol #even in Tel Shival where they have their own school for the art #they still have an unspoken rule that you never touch another student/teacher #purely because of how wary everyone is about the mesmers #(that and one of the mesmer finals is to successfully practice their craft on a fellow thaumist without them realising... which doesn't help #lol)#aanyway #thank you for asking!#<3

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bebepac · 4 years

Text

The Wrath of the Crown

I hope you are ready for this.

The 9th Chapter of Their Hidden Pain To catch up on what you’ve missed Please click Their Hidden Pain.

Sorry guys to throw you this curve ball, better early than late I guess! My state is now doing the mandatory Stay at Home for most people. However me being in healthcare, I get to sport a lovely letter on my car, that says I am essential staff and must work during curfew and outside of the state mandated curfew hours.

I really feel like this is me and my coworkers right now.

Trying to keep the humor, but I’m stressed out y’all. So that being said, after this chapter of Scar Tissue, it’s going on hiatus, as I mentally need a break from things that are stressful, or things that will possibly increase stress. This is an angst filled story that is honestly mentally draining. I enjoy what i’ve created to this point, but man, I have shed legit tears over these chapters. Every chapter pretty much. I’m going to focus on fluff for a little bit, then finish this up. Don’t worry Scar Tissue will be finished. I have a lot of good ideas for it and a lot of bombs to drop in reference to it. I’ll give you one. Drake’s journal is found after his death. He kept a very meticulous journal of his misdeeds.

At least 3 more chapters of Scar Tissue are coming. We still have more to address and loose ends to tie up .

Musical inspiration for this chapter. Before it was even created, before i completely had the idea realized. Saints from the Streets. This is the Reckoning. Please give it a listen. I don’t own rights to the music but it’s totally bad ass. I am streaming it while i type this playing on repeat.

https://youtu.be/D3rSrD9dmTs

All characters belong to Pixelberry with the exemption of Nico Karahalios , and mentions of Mollie Lancaster.

Warnings: Mentions of Rape of multiple characters, assault on a female, drugging multiple people without their knowledge, date rape drugs, gun violence, death of a major character, torture? beating the crap out of someone, blood and murder.

A very very special thanks to @loveellamae for being my beta on this one. I appreciate you friend so very much.

Word Count: 2083

Tagging: @dcbbw @queenjilian @janezillow @kingliam2019 @glaimtruelovealways @annekebbphotography @queencordonia @kaitycole @custaroonie @camersworld @the-soot-sprite @sevenfuckslefttogive @yukinagato2012 @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @kimmiedoo5@hopefulmoonobject @my0123456789universe @we-lazystudent @queenwalton @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @furiousherringoperatortoad @atha68 @islandcrow @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @unusualvisionsblog @flutistbyday2020 @lovemychoices

“King Liam, I spoke with the Queen. I know what you’re here to do and what Drake has done. And I implore you to think clearly, Your Majesty. You can’t do this here.”

Drake laughed again. “Pussy ass bitch can’t even finish what you started. Your wife is lucky she had a real man for a night. Me.”

Liam turned around again to face Drake. He hit him so hard the force of his punch not only knocked Drake over, it took the chair with him. Blood gushed from Drake’s nose.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Bastien continued. “He must face the Crown’s wrath in the proper place….. The Palace Execution Room.“

Liam contemplated for a few moments. “You’re right Bastien. Let’s take him there.”

“You haven’t got the guts.” Drake said. Liam’s next hit rendered Drake unconscious. Liam stood over Drake looking down at him.

“Drake Walker is going to die today.”

Liam walked out the door.

Bastien and Leo picked up an unconscious Drake, dragging him, following behind their King.

“Queen Riley, I’ve been instructed by King Liam to bring you to the Execution Room. Follow this way ma’am.”

Hana got up as well. “I’m sorry Lady Lee, per King Liam’s orders only the Queen has been requested.”

Nico, Bastien’s second in command, led her through older parts of the palace she didn’t even know existed.

“I’ve never been in this portion of the palace before. Nico have you?”

“Yes ma’am, but only briefly, when I first started. I was taught to navigate it for situations like this.“

They stopped in front of two wooden doors. The inscription on the door was in a language she didn’t know but had seen Liam reading. Maybe Greek since she knew he was fluent in it, as well as multiple other languages. She rubbed the inscription feeling the curves of it on her fingertips.

"Is this written in Greek, Nico?” She asked.

“Very good eye, Your Majesty. Do you know any Greek yet?”

“Does baklava count?” She smiled.

Nico smiled back. “King Liam and his sweet tooth.”

“My Greek is a little rusty, but I can tell you what it says, if you like?”

“Please, Nico, if you would. Can you read it in Greek first though?”

He read the passage in Greek first pointing to the words as he read them. She liked the rich sound of the language, and the way they rolled off his tongue. She hoped one day to learn.

“ Your Majesty now in English it translates, ‘if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.”

“Seems fitting for an Execution Room I guess. Can’t say I’ve ever been in one before.”

“Nor I ma'am.”

Nico took out a large skeleton key, unlocking the door.

“I’ve been instructed to wait with you until the King arrives, they should be here shortly.”

It’s not long before she hears the sound of Liam’s signature wing tip shoes on the palace hardwood floor, before she sees him. When he rounds the corner, she screams.

Liam is covered in blood. His face, his hands, his hair, his clothes. Everything that was white was red. She started to run towards him.

He holds up his hand to stop her.

Nico gently restrains her. “No, Your Majesty, please stay calm.”

Liam was not alone. Bastien and Leo were dragging a bloody and unconscious Drake. When Riley and Liam were face to face, the only thing she could notice was how blue his eyes looked in contrast to all the blood on him.

Though she could see where two spots were clear on his face; it looked like tears had washed away the blood.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. It’s not my blood, Riley, I’m not hurt.”

Physically hurt, no, but as Liam looked at Riley, she could tell his heart was broken.

Liam pushed the double doors open, walking inside.

Riley followed him. The room was dark and had a unique smell to it. Nico took Bastien’s place holding up Drake.

Bastien flipped a switch that sounded like a circuit breaker being tripped and the lights flickered for a moment, then the room was bathed in light. Once Bastien was done, Nico and Bastien switched places again.

The room looked medieval with unlit candles that lined the walls. There was an ancient looking fireplace that held a black cauldron. There were hanging chains and ropes and in the middle of the room a chair. Devices she had no idea what they were, but they looked like torture devices and were placed in strategic areas around the room.

They dragged Drake to the chair in the middle of the room. He was slumped in the seat, head bent forward. They cuffed his hands to the chains located on the floor.

“Nico.” Liam’s voice was stern and authoritative.

Nico nodded, disappearing for a moment. He came back in carrying two buckets of water.

Riley watched Liam. She had never seen him look so cold. The sparkle in his eyes, the one she fell in love with that first night was gone.

He looked stern, angry, and honestly incredibly regal.

“Do it.” Liam said.

Nico tossed the first bucket of water. The water landed on Drake’s face and chest as the water drenched his clothes. Nico glanced at Liam.

“Again.” Liam’s voice was stronger, more authoritative. When the second bucket of water hit Drake, he sprang to life.

“What the fuck is this?” Drake jumped up but was limited by his movements because of his arms. Drake pulled his left arm seeing the chains then his right. Seeing he was powerless at the moment, he sat back down in the chair.

Liam then crouched down to his level intensely watching him.

“Welcome back, but you won’t be here long. You already knew that, didn’t you, Drake?”

“Fuck you.”

Liam hit Drake hard.

He stared at Drake as he stood and stepped closer to him. He continued to speak.

“And I looked and behold a pale horse, and the name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. I have told you this multiple times, you mess with what’s mine, I will come after you. I told you, I would end you. You brought this on yourself.”

He pointed to Riley. “YOU MESSED WITH WHAT’S MINE. SHE IS MINE. RILEY IS MY WIFE!!!!”

“You were the last person she was thinking about when she was riding my cock in Vegas.”

Liam punched Drake in the gut causing him to cough up blood.

“YOU RAPED MY WIFE!!”

“She loved it,” Drake said with a smile. “Tell him how loud you screamed when I fucked the hell out of your tight pussy Brooks.”

Liam backhanded Drake. “DON’T YOU TALK ABOUT HER THAT WAY!!!”

“I just knew today was the day, it felt like there was something special in the air. I don’t usually have these on me.”

He reached into his pocket pulling out two pairs of women’s panties.

“Recognize these?” He held them up for Riley to see.

Riley gasped. They were hers.

Drake licked his lips, laughing, tasting his own blood. Liam’s hits had gotten quite strong over the years.

“I had her Liam, not once but twice. Mementos of the two V’s, I shared with your wife King Liam, Vegas, and Valtoria.” He balled them up in his hands inhaling deeply.

Liam was completely floored. How did he not see all this crazy radiating from Drake until now? How the fuck did he miss this?!?!

“They still smell like her.”

Liam heard Riley whimper. He looked at his love, tears streaming down her face, and she was shaking. Had he believed Leo back then, who said he didn’t trust Drake and Mollie, Drake would not have been here to do all this damage to her life, their marriage. Even the heir’s paternity had been potentially compromised by all of this. It’s all my fault Liam thought. He basically handed Riley to Drake’s evil hands on a silver platter.

He caused Riley all this pain by not stopping the monster well before he could get to her. Riley couldn’t even touch her stomach to start bonding with the baby growing inside her because she knew she was getting an abortion if it turned out to be Drake’s seed that had implanted in her. On the flipside, she was missing out on the beginning stages of bonding with the royal heir if it was Liam’s baby growing in her womb.

Seeing the pain in Riley’s milk chocolate brown eyes as she stared into his blue ones, Liam screamed in anger, turning to face Drake once again.

“GET ON YOUR KNEES!”

Drake complied.

“Wait. Liam before you go any further, I have something to say to him.” Riley said. Both of them seem surprised she was speaking.

Riley walked up to stand next to Liam.

“Whatever you need to do, my love,” he said.

She stared down at Drake on his knees, arms stretched out from the cuffs, looking like he was being crucified.

“I hate you. We used to be friends. At least I thought we were.” She stared in his eyes. “Your eyes….There’s nothing there.”

“Brooks, it’s easy to fake emotions. Is this what you need?”

She watched the look in his eyes change dramatically. His eyes now looked like the funny sarcastic marshmallow that was her friend and confidant. Riley gasped.

“Marshmallow Man?”

His eyes immediately changed back to his previous cold, blank stare. “Brooks, he wasn’t real. This is the real me.”

She shook her head as if she had finally broken the trance.

“You’re a monster. ”

“Maybe I am.”

“What my husband isn’t telling you is, I’m six weeks pregnant.”

"From Valtoria? You’re telling me I could be a father right now? It could be my baby growing inside you?”

“Could be your baby, yes, but you’ll never be a father. I would rather die first than give birth to your child. If it turns out to be yours, I will end the pregnancy. Just like my husband is about to end you.”

Drake laughed, “Well isn’t this an absolutely delicious turn of events, more than I could have hoped for.”

He smiled looking up at Riley. Then his eyes rested on her stomach.

“DON’T LOOK AT HER, YOU LOOK AT ME!!!”

Liam’s free hand, not holding the pistol, grabbed for Riley’s hand pulling her protectively behind him.

“By order of the King of Cordonia for the numerous crimes you have committed against the King and Queen…”

"And Mollie Lancaster,” Riley said from behind him.

“And Mollie Lancaster, I hereby sentence you to death, Drake Walker, in front of these witnesses. Do you have any last words before I carry out your sentence?”

Liam released the safety on his white and gold glock 9mm pointing it at Drake’s chest.

“I really hope the baby is mine, do you want to know why King Liam?”

“Why?”

Drake laughs. “Because it would mean I beat the King of Cordonia to the Promised Land.”

He winks at Riley. “His Queen’s womb. Her first baby sired by the commoner.”

Riley gasped, choking back a sob.

“You sick motherfucker,” Leo said.

Bastien and Nico winced.

Liam screamed, squeezing the trigger twice, two bullets hit Drake’s chest.

He fell to the ground gasping for breath, writhing in pain.

Liam stood over him preparing for the kill shot.

“Liam, don't…… Please.”

“You don’t have emotions, remember?”

“I don’t, but that will be the part …… you’ll never forget…….. A little parting gift.”

Sadly he knew Drake was right. He was already trying to push it to the back of his head.

“Burn in Hell.”

Liam delivered his kill shot to the head.

Neither Riley nor Liam ever forgot the sound of that last gunshot made as the bullet pierced Drake’s skull, ending him. They also had a long time to think about it, as they were married a very long time, and had a rich life full of family and children, grand children, and great grandchildren.

Liam and Riley watched whatever it was, leaving Drake’s eyes because it couldn’t be called light.

Drake . Walker . Was. Dead.

There was deafening silence in the Palace Execution Room, after that last shot rang out, after Drake took his last breath.

King Liam had finally avenged his Queen, his beautiful phoenix.

Ever Rising.

#trr #trr au #trr/trh #trr mc #trr mc x liam #trr riley #trr liam #trr king liam #king of cordonia #the royal romance #trr fanfic #trr fandom #queen of cordonia #riley brooks #trr riley b #cordonia

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fanfoolishness · 4 years

Text

Kitchen Confidential

(Steven Universe fic for @fermented-writers-block, who suggested Lars baking for the Off Colors and reflecting on how he’s changed. I added some Steven angst because why not! Lars & Steven, set near Steven Universe: Future.)

Lars meditates on the strange turns his life has taken, while tackling a complicated recipe and even more complicated questions from Steven.

***

Lars stepped into the home, setting down the bags of groceries he’d brought from Beach City. They were heavy, but he was starting to get the hang of making those weird pink portals. It sure made grocery shopping a lot easier.

The house was quiet. He remembered Fluorite had mentioned earlier that she and the Rutile Twins were going to to the west end of Little Homeworld to help with some of the construction. Padparadscha had probably tagged along out of curiosity. He wasn’t sure where Rhodanite was, but she’d been hanging out a lot with Garnet lately. They’d be back soon enough.

That was fine. He loved living with the other Off Colors, but sometimes he missed shutting himself up in his old room in his parents’ attic and being alone with his thoughts.

That reminded him. It was what, Wednesday? He’d have to swing over to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow for their weekly board game night. Sometimes Steven came. Usually Sadie made it, and sometimes Buck, Jenny and Sour Cream. Occasionally they brought the board games here so that Fluorite and the other Off Colors could fit and join in. It was usually pretty fun unless Lars lost. They’d all learned the hard way that Risk wasn’t fun for anybody.

Lars scanned the kitchen, making sure he had the right pans out. Theirs was the only house in Little Homeworld with a full kitchen, sink and oven. Steven had insisted on it, and Lars had had to admit it had been a good idea. Even if he didn’t need to eat, he still liked the baking.

He pulled out the ingredients. Walnuts, eggs, milk, yogurt. He rummaged in the cupboard for the staples he already had, the sugar, lemons, oil. He hauled out the butter from the fridge and set it out to soften.

His hands moved swiftly, securely, forming the dough. He knew you could get phyllo dough pre-made, and sure, he’d used it before. But there was something so damn satisfying about making it from scratch. He knew it wasn’t necessary. But he liked doing it anyway.

Lars hummed one of Sadie’s new songs as he waited for the dough to rest and started preheating the oven. She was so good. He’d always known she could sing, but Sadie Killer and the Suspects were probably the best thing to ever happen to Beach City. Grinning, he made a mental note to see if she wanted to come over after rehearsal tonight.

He started dividing the dough into tiny balls, rolling them out in round one. Once he’d rolled out everything, he turned to the hard work of rolling them out a second time, making them as thin as possible. He remembered when he’d been scared of this part. Yeah, phyllo was fiddly. But scarier than dying on an alien homeworld or stealing a spaceship? He snickered at the idea.

Thin leaves of dough, walnuts, melted butter. He inserted the tray into the oven and set about cleaning the kitchen, humming all the while. He started on the syrup.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Lars called.

“Hey, Lars,” said Steven, heading into the kitchen. He was hard to miss in that pink jacket. “It smells awesome in here. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi.”

“Did you wanna stay?” asked Lars. “This has to cool for a couple hours after I bring it out of the oven, but I don’t have anything going on for a while today if you’re free.”

Steven took a seat at the kitchen table. “Sure! I just got back from Homeworld and it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t a Diamond trying to smother me with affection.”

“Those giant ladies are like the grandmas to end all grandmas,” said Lars sagely. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, my grandma’s awesome, but I think she’ll always treat me like a little kid.”

“Exactly,” sighed Steven. He looked tired, with faint circles under his eyes. Lars frowned.

“Hey… you okay, man?”

“Me? Yeah, no, I’m fine,” said Steven hurriedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How about you? It’s been a little while. Are you still enjoying living with the Off Colors?”

The timer went off and Lars pulled out his pan after putting on some oven mitts. He set the pan on top of the oven and carefully poured the syrup over the crisp, golden dough. It smelled insanely good.

“Yeah,” said Lars, pulling off his oven mitts and taking a seat beside Steven. “We just get each other, you know? Besides, I already knew they’d be good roommates. We did great on the journey back to Earth.”

“Do you miss space?” Steven asked thoughtfully. “Do you ever want to go back? You’ve still got the ship.”

“I dunno,” said Lars. He pursed his lips, thinking. “When I was out there, I just wanted to get home. Now that I’m here, I’ve got a lot of other things going on. I mean, I’d hate to leave Sadie again. Not to mention my parents and my friends. I haven’t ruled it out, though.” He looked down at his hands, pale pink, smooth, unscarred. “I mean, I have time, don’t I?”

“Lars?” asked Steven, leaning his chin on his hands and looking worried. “Do you ever get… scared about the future?”

“Sometimes,” said Lars. He draped an arm over his seat back, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, we don’t really know what’s going to happen, right? I died already and now I’m magic. You’re half-magic but it’s serious half-magic. Like, are we ever gonna be normal? Are we gonna outlive everyone? Of course I wonder about it.”

Steven was quiet, staring hard at the table. He swallowed.

Lars shrugged. “I dunno. It’s scary, but… I’m not scared anymore? Does that make sense?”

Steven reached out, placing a familiar high-five square on Lars’ chest. He looked up at Lars with wide eyes. “Yeah. I think it does.”

Lars smiled at him, returning the high-five. “Dude, you ever want to talk… you know where to find me.”

Steven settled back in his chair, putting his hands in his pockets and smiling. “Thanks, Lars.”

“Now, come on. You wanna play some video games while we wait for the baklava to cool?”

“Sure, but… Baklava?!” Steven said in surprise. “I thought it used to scare you. Isn’t it supposed to be really hard to make?”

Lars winked at him. “Captain Lars kicks baklava’s ass, Steven. I make it all the time now.”

Steven grinned at him, his eyes bright. “You know, I’m really proud of you, Lars.”

“Come on, don’t make it weird.”

“Okay, okay, okay…”

#steven universe #lars barriga #steven quartz universe #steven universe future #steven universe fanfic #awww i love these two #also i really could not resist some worrisome steven stuff #sorry everyone #fanfoolishness steven universe fic

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shiro-0197 · 3 years

Note

Omigosh thank you 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Albie�� Albie just has my heart, his paws are just so cute I'm sobbing.

oh that's okay love!! Hmm, yeah I guess you could call it winter break, although there's no winter :P we just call it the end-of-the-year break, and we start again on the 20th of January.

Ikr. Dodol is such an odd name. tbh, most of the food names here are slightly strange, but they taste absolutely delicious :D so that's good haha. I'd love to try them with you too. There's 14 states and each has their own special delicacies.

Oh God I agree. The paperwork is TEDIOUS. So you know I work, right? Well, my job is basically to just do the doctor's paperwork at a clinic 😭🤚 things would be so much easier if it were computerized, but alas, it isn't. Who knows? Maybe if you become one, you could hire an assistant to do it for you :P 😭😔 God you're so sweet. No I'd not get hurt around you, at least I'd try my best not to. Why waste a second being injured when I could instead use it to do exciting things with you? :D

thank you!! Have you ever thought of doing something like that too? I'm not very good with young kids (I actually don't really even get along with them so much because they're quite a nuisance) but from experience, the older ones are okay, especially if they're all quiet and polite 😝💖

😭I'm glad they're enough. For now. BUT SOMEDAY I really will hug you !! and someone will probably have to tear me away because I don't think I'll let go 😼

a... dried?? Blobfish?? 😭 Interesting. I don't even wanna know where he got it either omg.

yes. So so so gorgeous 😭💖 I saw an ash lynx one a while ago on Instagram but then it disappeared (I'll find it again I hope) and it was the most beautiful art breeder I've EVER seen.

you're not uneducated hush >:(( you're such a smart person, I really really look up to you grrr. and yeah they're actually different. People acknowledge that fairy tails are fiction, wherelse myths were believed to be true, or at least have a ring of truth to them. :(

I wish you were here too. AND NOOOO KURO WAIT NOOOOOOOO. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HUG HIM IF HE HAS NO LIMBS 😭😭😭

Cashews are delicious!! I don't like all nuts, but some are great. Like peanuts and walnuts. Though I have braces, so I haven't eaten them in a long time, since they hurt my mouth. I'll take them out by march, I hope, and then you bet I'm just gonna eat all of those xD I've tried Baklava!! A friend went to Turkey once, and she brought some back. It's delicious, I hope I'll try it again in the future. tho omg yes!! You're so lucky, the snacks must be to-die-for there😚😚💖💖💖💖 what other types can you get?

CHISHIYA IS ACTUALLY A CATBOY ‼️‼️ THOSE PICTURES JUST CONFIRMED IT.

I hope you enjoy your rewatch!! Coincidentally, I'm rewatching a favourite of mine too. It's called She-Ra and it's on netflix. And here's a few frames of the show I want to share with you 😿💖

I MEAN. First of all; (they're not even canon) BUT THEY'RE SO PRETTY TOGETHER. Secondly, one of them's a catgirl?? And her suit is so pretty?? And thirdly... THE DIP?? I'm dying sorry 😭😭💖

—☃️☃️ (us ü)

Yes yes !!! He's so extremely adorable and I'm kqkkkdkakkd

Оhh, I see !! That's a lot, we're going back to class at tenth, or earlier maybe. I'm glad you guys have a long break!!! You deserve it:D

Оhh, 14!! We also have 14 states (uh, provinces?) Though I dont think every one has a separate delicacy. That's so cool, though!! The more food there is, the better xD

Ackk, I know right. I did paperwork, like, once in my life and it was so exhausting?? I feel bad for you😭 I'd rather become a freelancer 😝

Fair enough! I'd do my best to have you up and straight, so you wouldn't get injured even if you wanted to (though I dont think you would)😋

Well, I've been thinking about helping kids my age with languages. But, well, I'm so bad at teaching. I'm that kind of person to go "how do you not understand this" after two times of explaining. So I try not to do that, because I dont want the teens to think I'm uncool XD

Hehe no one will have to tear you away because I'd love to hug you just as long😭😭😭💕

Aahhh!! I really hope you come across it again!! It sucks to see something gorgeous only to never encounter it again😭

Awhh, that's so sweet of you!!! 🥺🥺 I also look up to you!! You're so hardworking and responsible, couldn't be me😭 but yeah, I really get confused sometimes, people say they're the same and I'm like ????

BWNSJQJD dont worry he's all bark one bite😭😭 he'll hit me but that's all he can do, really

Yeah!!! I adore walnuts, they're my favorite. Peanuts get stuck in my teeth a lot, I still love them though💔 March is in... three months? Huhh that's a while😭 I wouldn't survive for so long without them

Hell yeah, another thing I need to make you in the future!!!! I've also tried turkish delight, the orange and the strawberry ones are my favorite. I dont like the peanut ones tho, they're too sweet😭 we also tried maklube (mac-looh-beh), and it's to die for. Tastes even better when we make it with teh whole class XD our school also has special "keklube" and "tavuklube" versions, which are totally made up names, but basically they're just cake and chicken versions of maklube

I'm forty seconds away from writing an article about why Chishiya is not so secretly a catboy XD

Aaaa I forgot about She-ra qkekkqkd!!! I wanted to watch it as well but then I got into my anime phase 😭😭 they look so good though omg😍😍 I really hope watch it soon~ I hope you're enjoying it!!!

#Ari💕#were so cute😭😭😭#snowmates❄

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fromrusttoroadtrip · 4 years

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When we arrived in Albania on an unseasonably warm January day our hearts were fraught with a mixture of emotions: comfort, familiarity, but also a degree of hesitation. We had fond memories of our time in this country, but were they simply painted bright by nostalgia, and would our second visit live up to expectation?⁣

Our answers to these questions came on just our second day here.⁣

We’d spent the day basking in sunshine, washing our van and dipping our bodies into the icy waters of Lake Prespa, and were just beginning to enjoy one of those spectacular Albanian sunsets which painted the mountains the particular shade of purple that was so ingrained into our memories. We went to fire up the engine but our van refused to start; the batteries were too flat, the air too cold. The engine got slower and slower until it had no juice left to give. We were now faced with the prospect of a night here with no power, no heating and no light; we’d seen approximately three cars all day and the light outside was rapidly fading.

Yet somehow, whether by miracle or fate or pure coincidence, a car approached just two minutes later. We waved them down, explained as best we could what had happened, and the man along with all six members of his family came over to help us. We had no jump leads but this didn’t deter him, and in the most Balkan display of ingenuity and problem solving he had our van running in no time by swapping our battery with the one from his car, starting the engine then swapping them back around while it was still running. He even fixed the loose positive terminal with a screw.⁣

Feeling like we’d been a burden we offered him a shot of rakia as a thank you and his face lit up; they then immediately invited us to join them for their son’s birthday party at a nearby restaurant. Instead of spending a cold, dark night in our van we spent the evening drinking, sampling local cuisine, having conversations via Google Translate, eating homemade baklava and birthday cake and toasting each member of the table with a hearty, “𝘎ë𝘻𝘢𝘶𝘳!”⁣

What a welcome back into Albania.

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onlycags · 4 years

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Surprise Date | Çağlar Söyüncü

Request: James inviting you to Calgars when you get there you find out that he’s set you up on a date with Cags. It’s all fluffy and he asks you to be his at the end

This was sooo much fun to write! I get very carried away when I write these things, so they can be a bit lengthy - I always find myself wanting more from small, 250-word blurbs and I’ve never been able to keep things short and sweet. Please enjoy! xx

Word Count: 1,430 Rating: T

- - -

Madders: Party at Cags’ tonight. You in?

You bit your lip as you reread your best mate’s text for the hundredth time, the butterflies still fluttering in your stomach as though you’d just opened the message five seconds ago instead of five minutes ago.

You: IDK. I’ve got serious plans with Netflix and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s…

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Madders: P L E A S E COME!!! I Haven’t seen you in ages and I miss your face! 😭😭😭

You laughed to yourself as you typed your response.

You: *sigh* Fiiine but only for you.

Once again, he responded quickly.

Madders: YEEESSSS party starts at 6

Madders: Please dress nice - we are feeling fancy

You: 🙄 Whatever you say

It was 2pm which meant you had a little over three hours to get ready before you had to head over to the party. You stared at your closet for a solid fifteen minutes before deciding to shower first.

Your pulse raced at the thought of going to a party at Çağlar’s flat. It had been a couple weeks since you had seen the Turkish defender but your feelings for him hadn’t diminished.

If you were being honest with yourself, the reason you hadn’t seen James in ages (ie: two weeks in James Maddison Time) was because of your massive crush on Çağlar. You couldn’t help but stare at the Turk, your brain creating dirty fantasies that you couldn’t act on. Even more embarrassing was the fact that you were 100% sure that Çağlar knew but hadn’t done anything to make you believe your feelings were reciprocated.

You stood under the hot spray of water, letting your mind wander to those forbidden thoughts - there was no way you would be able to get through this party as turned on as you were right now. You pictured Çağlar’s hands on your body as your own hands slipped in between your legs, gasping as you ran your thumb over your clit. “Çağlar,” you whimpered, sliding two fingers inside yourself. Moments later, you were sliding down the wall of the shower, legs shaking from the incredible orgasm you had just given yourself.

Not wanting to take more time, you quickly finished up, washing your hair and body, enjoying the feel of the washcloth on your sensitive pussy.

You blow dried your hair until it was almost dry, letting it settle as you searched your closet for the required attire that James had specified, trying to find your favorite dress that brought out your eyes.

Once you had located the dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, you found your favourite pair of heels, loving how they elevated you from an average 5’5” to a 5’8” and were still comfortable.

You checked your phone - one hour before you had to head out. You sat down at your vanity, twisting your hair up lazily so you could do your makeup. You settled for a smoky eye with bright red lipstick that made you feel hot, enjoying the routine of putting on makeup that helped calm your nerves.

Lastly, you undid your lazy twist-up, braiding your long hair into an easy side-braid that still looked classy. You took one last look in the mirror, dabbing at the lipstick one more time before heading out the door.

It took ten minutes to get to Çağlar’s and your nerves were back in full force. You started to get suspicious when you couldn’t hear any telltale signs of a party going on.

You: Is anybody here? I don’t hear anything…

Madders: We’re out on the patio. I’ll let Cags know you’re here. Just knock and he’ll come to the door.

You breathed a sigh of relief, knocking on the door. Moments later, Çağlar appeared, looking delicious in an Armani suit with a tie in your favourite colour.

“Hi,” he greeted, smiling warmly at you.

“Hey,” you replied shyly, your grip tightening on your clutch. “Where is everyone?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, looking away sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, nobody else is here.”

Dread filled you, and you pulled up your phone, trying to calm your nerves. “Did James give me the wrong day? I swear he said tonight,” you muttered, scrolling through your messages.

“He told you the right day and time,” Çağlar confirmed. “James helped me plan this date.”

“Date?” You asked, butterflies returning.

“Yes.” Çağlar stepped toward you, running a hand down your arm as you shivered at his touch. “I have wanted you for a long time now, [Y/N], but I did not know how to ask you out. James said this would be the best way to spend time with you.”

You placed a hand on his cheek, your confidence growing after Çağlar’s confession. “This is perfect, Çağlar, thank you.” At that moment, your stomach grumbled, making you blush.

He chuckled, taking your hand and threading his fingers through yours. “I have made dinner; come with me.”

You followed him through his flat, enjoying the ambiance of the candlelight throughout. Çağlar led you out to the patio, pulling out your chair. You smiled, placing a light kiss on his cheek and using your thumb to wipe off the lipstick left behind, before you took a seat. He lifted the cover off of the plate in front of you, revealing a steaming dish that smelled delicious. “What is it?” You asked, taking in the sight of Çağlar pouring you a glass of red wine.

“Manti. It is a dumpling, or like a…” he paused, searching for the right word, “ravioli in Italy. I was not certain if you liked lamb, so I made it with beef.” He sat down and lifted his own dish cover off. “Please. Eat.”

You smiled at him, picking up your fork. A moan involuntarily escaped your lips, and you noticed Çağlar’s eyes darken. “This is amazing,” you commented, licking your lips. “You made this?”

He nodded shyly, looking away. “I did. I miss Turkey a lot, and so I cook whenever I have the time.” He took a sip of wine, murmuring, “And I wanted to share my culture with you.”

You blushed, feeling special.

The dinner went well, Çağlar bringing out ridiculous amounts of food - red lentil soup and baklava among them. You lost track of time, enjoying how easily the conversation flowed between the two of you.

At one point, you shivered, getting colder as the sun started to set on the warm summer evening. He quickly cleared the plates - you offered to help, but he told you to go on inside. You took a seat on his comfortable couch, kicking off your heels and curling your feet underneath you. He opened a second bottle of wine and sat down beside you as he handed you a full glass.

“Thank you.” you murmured, taking a sip of the white wine. You set your wine on the end table, feeling awkward for the first time since before dinner started.

Çağlar broke the tension, asking you open-ended questions that had you spinning stories from your childhood - how you got into football; your family; moving from Coventry to Leicester to be with James, your best mate. As you talked, you moved closer to him until you were curled into his side, his arm around you. Your legs were now across his lap, your hand on his chest, his heart beating rapidly.

“Are you okay?” You asked, tilting your head to look up at him.

He swallowed nervously. “I am fine. You just make me nervous.”

You blushed. “I make you nervous?” You asked, incredulous.

He fidgeted with the bracelet on your wrist. “Yes. I can go up against the best players in the world and not be scared, but you make me nervous.”

You sat up, placing your hand on his cheek. “You make me nervous, too, Çağlar.”

His tongue darted out and licked his lower lip. In a moment of confidence, you leaned in and kissed him, your heart beating just as fast as his. His fingers slid up your thigh and dug into your hip as you moaned into his mouth. Before you could process it, Çağlar had positioned you so that you were straddling him, your dress riding up over your thighs. He broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. “What would you say if I asked you to be my girlfriend?”

A grin spread across your face as you kissed him hard. “Yes,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his.

#cags writing #cags requests

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kennysatyr · 4 years

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Juniper Blues

Trigger Warning: Swearing, Blood, Mentions of abuse, crying, a shit ton of angst and ghost.

(Author note: this character is ftm and i didn't want to use his birthname or she/her pronouns an enjoy!)

05/13/2010

9:01 PM “Get the fuck out of my sight!” a harsh slap strikes him he falls to the ground his father glares at him “Well Git!” he gets up and scurries off to his room and slams the door he tears start to escape from his eyes he sits on the bed to release them his fathers words still lingering in his mind he looks at the bruises on his arms and legs his dad gave him today he was disappointed with himself he was disappointed that he couldn’t be what his father wanted him to be disappointed that he couldn’t defend himself against his fathers attacks the tears start stinging he ugs his knees all he can think of is how he wishes he’d just leave this place he pulled the locket he kept under his bed he opens to see a beautiful woman the picture almost faded by now “I miss you mom” he remembers her but can only be with her in dreams now he remembers her beautiful seafoam green hair, her ocean eyes, and fair skin most importantly remembers her perfume that smelled of roses that brought comfort.

He looked ta the time “10:12 PM” “Why couldn’t today end” he thought to himself he can still hear his father in the living room laughing at a stupid sitcom the locket was still in his hand he took one more look at it he gets up goes to his closet grabs the duffle bag from inside starts shoving clothing, possessions, essentials, etc. that moment he decided it was time.

10:55 PM He opened his door as slowly as he could. His father looked asleep in his chair all it took was twenty-five steps to the door twenty-five steps to freedom he placed his foot ahead of him that was one he knew which floorboards were squeaky as he stepped he tried to avoid them he kept tiptoeing counting each step as he went now the final twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, Twenty-four “Where the fuck do you think you are going?” he froze in place his body went cold his heart seemed to stop “Answer me you little shit!” he grabbed his shoulder roughly and made him look at him “You said to get the fuck out of your face didn’t you?” he didn’t know where that sudden confidence came from, but he liked it “What the fuck did you say to me?” “You heard me, old man!” “Who the fuck are you calling old man?” “You, you Choca!” “That’s it you little shit!” He grabbed him and dragged him to the kitchen and slammed his back into the counter that’d break a rib or two he grabbed him by throat puts a gun to his forehead “I am tired of being disrespected by you!” Rafael wasn’t scared not one bit “I have killed many people with this gun so I certainly wouldn’t mind blowing your fucking brains out!” he dropped him on the ground his neck was probably bruised his father walked away to take one last sip of his beer in the corner of his eye he saw her his mother, but there was a rather grim feeling as he stared into her black eyes about her she pointed to the knife on the counter and slightly nodded.

11:07 PM Outside there was a woman climbing the building she watching her steps avoiding windows keeping her footsteps lights she crawls through the window leading into an apartment hallway quietly closing the window and locking she pulls out her phone “Al Ortiz you must be a pretty bad man for me to be at your door lets see” her voice is distorted by her mask she makes her way down the hallway “Apartment 4C” she places her hand on the knob suddenly she hears a sobbing sound on the other side of the door her other hand is on her gun she kicks down the door swiftly and points her gun to whoever may be in the apartment. Once inside she realizes there was no one in danger what she saw most would find disturbing a dead body lays on the ground while a preteen with a bloody hands and a knife is in the corner he just barely noticed the woman present in the room he grabs the knife again she drops her weapon and places her hands up “Calm down child I am not here for you” she saw the fear in the teens eyes “Frankly I came here to kill the man on the floor but-” she chuckled “you seemed to have done that for me” she steps closer and closer cautiously she kneels down to where she can have eye contact she looked into his bright bottle-green eyes and he can see her one green eye and the other red she started to take her mask off slowly once it was off he saw the burns scars on the left side of her face “Don’t worry I’m not a threat” he didn’t know what came over him but he immediatly hugged this strange woman she was shocked but hugged the child he started crying once he smelled her perfume it reminded him of his mother.

9/04/2011

4:33 PM A flash blinded Rafael “Sorry I didn’t mean to put the flash on” “It’s alright Ms. Ghali” Khadijah smiled and chuckled “No need for formalities you can call me by my name” “Alright, Ms. Khadijah” she smiled once more “Why are we taking pictures?” “Just taking a before photo” he questioned her actions numerous times but from the amount of time they have spent together he learned to not question because there is almost always a good reason for it. After taking photos they walked out of the house and right before getting into the car a woman walks out with a twelve-year-old both boy “Don’t have too much fun you two!” “Don’t worry we won’t my love!” she blew a kiss Rafael was even more confused “What did Dembe mean by that?” “You will see soon” the African American woman waved from the porch with the twelve-year-old as Khad drove away on the car ride Rafael noticed a long white package in the backseat he didn’t question, but certainly wanted to know why Khadijah was being so cheerful yet secretive eventually they pulled up to a place called “Laura’s Barbershop” “Why are we at a hair salon?” Khadijah chuckled “So many questions and not bothering to wait for answers” he was still confused “I figured that we both get our hair done we both have so much hair, but don’t do anything with it” “Makes sense I suppose” “Come on” they make their way to the salon they are greeted by the staff and put in chairs the hairstylist exclaims “You have at least 18 to 20 inches of wavy hair on your head and you haven’t done a thing?” “Well the place I use to live in didn’t let me” She grabbed his head “Well that is going to change today!” she combed out his hair “Now what do you want to do with it? Your guardian said you can do whatever you want” he thought about this for a second “I want you to cut it to 14 to16 inches and to dye it green” “That is doable what shade of green?” “J-juniper I guess” “Such a lovely color any reason?” “No reason just a change” after two hours of cutting bleaching and dying he looked finally got to see himself the transformation had him surprised yet he was happy any evidence of his old self is now gone he looked over at Khadijah her hair was the same length, but now platinum blonde replaces the old color she looked over and said “you look so good! This color suits you!” “T-Thank you” he blushed after the appointment they went back home he kept looking in his reflection in the side-view mirror he now marveled at how he now looked he hadn’t felt this confidence in a while the shade of green made him remember his late mother.

7:30 PM Rafael walked into the kitchen the room had a remarkable aroma Dembe made, Manakeesh, Dolma, and Baklava for the small family and it was food Rafael grew to love Khadijah hugged her wife “My dove you have done an amazing job cooking tonight” “Thank you my angel” Dembe kissed Khad on the lips as she placed food on the table the twelve-year-old boy at the table made a sound of disgust “Yuck!” Rafael laughed “Be lucky they still love each other dingus” he shoved the little boy the boy shoved back “HEY! No roughhousing at the table. We feed you so you can do that after” said Dembe the two kids gave each other a look that said “This isn’t over” They do a quick prayer before eating then feasted Rafael was convinced he was in heaven eat bite he took “Hey Raffy” he looked up Khadijah was holding the long white box but this time with a red ribbon wrapped around it that was in the car “We have known each other for a while now more than a year-” he swallowed “-I come to have almost called you like me and Dembe’s own” She held Dembe’s hand and slid the box across the table Rafael grabbed it he became nervous he untied the ribbon and opened the lid what he saw made tears come out of his eyes for once happy one’s: it was an Adoption Certificate in print said "Rafeal Ghali" Khadijah got up to go to the other side and said, “We changed your first name as well we noticed you asked your teachers to call you Rafael so we changed it” she hugged and ran her finger through his hair “you alright?” Rafael looked at her “I am more than Alright Mom” from that day forward he’d no longer be Ayelet Ortiz he was now Rafael Ghali.

#somberoutcast #rafealghali #backstory #originalcharacters #originalseries #angst #sadness #ghost #triggering content #happyending #i stayed up too late #ftm #mtf #queerfamily #lesbianmoms #lgbtq positivity #kennysatyr

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shewolfofficial · 5 years

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Prince!Levi x Thief!Reader ~ Pt.4

Suddenly Hanji makes a small monkey appear out of nowhere, it has some musical instruments on it as it wanders around aimlessly, I send her a questioning look, she waves me off. ‘’You don’t need to worry about him- he’s fine’’ Hanji reassures as the small monkey begins to bang the drums on its back.

‘‘Well, Ali Baba had them, forty thieves, Sheherezade had a thousand tales’‘

She began to sing as the monkey blew into its kazoo, I stepped back a little in confusion and watched them both.

‘’But, master, you in luck 'cause up your sleeves You got a brand of magic never fails’‘

The monkey once again used the kazoo as Hanji continued with her little song before stopping and clasping her hands together. ‘’Woah! That was fun, why don’t I do the rest hm? Still don’t ring a bell?’’ She then asked as I shyly shook my head, suddenly the monkey appeared by a set of drums as music began out of nowhere- as concerned as I was I didn’t really mind the fact that Hanji made a monkey appear out of nowhere.

I spun around seeing carpet shaking about some other instruments as blue mist flew about everywhere, blinking and laughing a little before Hanji started over again with more life this time. She was once again as the size of a giant in front of me, resting in front of me with her chin on her hands.

‘’Well, Ali Baba had them, forty thieves, Sheherezade had a thousand tales But, master, you in luck 'cause up your sleeves You got a brand of magic never fails ’’

A crowd of men with curved swords came out of nowhere and surrounded me, putting their swords at every angle at my neck as I nervously glanced to Hanji in slight worry.

’’You got some power in your corner now Some heavy ammunition in your camp You got some punch, pizazz, yahoo and how All you gotta do is rub that lamp’’

Hanji went back to normal human size and began to fight a few people knocking a few out as I ran to the lamp, just as I picked it up she came spewing out of it again, scratching her head with a grin as she looked down to me.

‘’Miss F/N, miss, what will your pleasure be? Let me take your order Jot it down You ain't never had a friend like me!’’

Hanji took out a tray of supposed food and lowered it down to me but before I knew it I was in some fancy restaurant except I was the only one in it, there were many Hanji’s as waiters going around pretending to serve people but I can see those were only more Hanji’s looking at the menus as she sang.

‘‘Yes miss, we pride ourselves on service! You're the boss, the queen, the shah! Say what you wish, it's yours! True dish, how about a little more baklava?’’

I crawled out of the supposed restaurant and was immediately greeted with a bunch of more Hanji’s, the original one swirled around me before she brought over two enormous racks of clothing, I spontaneously dove for both to fetch some new clothes.

‘’Have some of column A Try all of column B, I'm in the mood to help you though You ain't never had a friend like me!’‘

I didn’t know why or how but Hanji managed to take control of my body, basically forcing me into some dance as if I were some performer on stage for a crowd- the music picked up again as I pulled off some moves I never knew I could. Quite cool if you ask me. Hanji thankfully stopped my dancing and began to make me look all around me at different versions of her making strange dance moves and some things normal people definitely couldn’t do.

‘‘So don't ya sit there slack-jawed, buggy-eyed I'm here to answer all your midday prayers’‘

Hanji sat me down on a couch and she took a spot next to me resting an arm at the back as some other versions of her appeared like a choir behind us singing with their hands together.

‘‘You got me bona fide and certified You got a genie for your charge d'affaires I got a powerful urge to help you out So whatcha wish? I really wanna know You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt Well, all you gotta do is rub like so oh oh’‘

Has she been practising this for a thousand years? As much as I won’t forget this day I definitely won’t forget this performance, Hanji got rid of all of her other versions and slung an arm over my shoulder- fixing up the goggles on her head before fixing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

‘’Miss F/N, ms, have a wish or two or three I'm on the job, you big nabob You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend’’

Shrugging I decided not to question her anymore as we began to dance, I didn’t know why I was dancing with a genie in a cave underground but I didn’t question it. I decided to forget about all the shit that happened just for a few minutes and enjoy this with me assumingly new friend according to the song.

‘’You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend You ain't never (never) had (had) a friend like me!’’

Hanji spun me around making me laugh as she grinned and finished up her song.

‘’You ain't never had a friend like me!’‘

She finished and ran a hand through her hair before drifting in front of me, giggling a little as she excitedly clapped. ‘’Now you get it? You only got three wishes! But you can’t wish for more wishes, nor can you wish for anyone to love anybody or to wish for someone to come back from the dead! Got it? Now let’s go F/N! ‘Cause I really needa get outa here!’’ Hanji quickly said before batting her lashes at me. ‘’Okay Hanji.. I wish for you to get us outa here?’’ I say rubbing the lamp. Soon we were in the middle of nowhere, the sun beaming down on us as I stumbled about, a nauseous feeling in my stomach from the abrupt movement.

‘‘Ugh what the hell.. Never do that agai-’‘

Suddenly we were both in some tent laying on bed, grapes and fruit lay in a basket by my side as we looked off into the distance, I sat up and shook off the strange unwell feeling that was over me for a few minor seconds before looking back to Hanji who threw a grape in her mouth and winked. ‘’Hey can you warn me before you do that?’’ I asked as she laughed throwing her head back, carpet was playing in the distance and that monkey was still here. ‘’Oh you’ll get used to it soon don’t worry’’ Hanji then waved me off and took a drink of god-knows-what. ‘’So I gotta use up all my wishes here, and if I bring you back to the Ackerman kingdom you won’t look norma-’’ ‘’Oh nononononono! I can look totally normal!’’ Hanji interrupted me, clicking her fingers two big bushy eyebrows suddenly appeared on her causing me to cackle. ‘’Uh... How about no blue?’’ I suggested as she clapped her hands, her waist that was once blue mist is gone and now replaced with a pair of legs along with her blue skin gone. Hanji was actually wearing a normal outfit as well minus the bushy eyebrows from before.

‘‘So what do you want?’‘ she asked laying back own, I hummed in thought and shrugged. ‘‘I don’t know what I want, what do you want?’‘ I reply as she goes silent for a second or two before sighing in a low tone ‘‘you know.. Nobody ever asked me that before, but it’s simple.. I want to be free, I want to live like a human! Have a family! A boy and a girl.. But I can’t..’‘ she muttered as I sat at the edge of my little temporary bed. ‘‘Well why can’t you set yourself free?’‘ I ask as she bursts into laughter, knocking on two metal things wrapped around her wrists. ‘‘Not happening, mainly because the master has to use up a wish to set me free and that never happened before- never ever ever ever ever ever ever happened’‘ she dragged along the ‘ever’ part as I tilted my head and slowly nodded, pity filling my stomach for her.

‘‘Well I promise I’ll use my last wish on you, don’t worry Hanji..’‘ I smile softly at her as she lets out a breath and sends one back. ‘‘Thanks F/N.’‘ she murmurs before sitting up looking towards carpet who was still playing in the distance. ‘‘The more wishes you have... The more you want.. It’s just like that’‘ the woman says as I huff stubbornly ‘‘well that’s not me’‘ I retort as she chuckles ‘‘we’ll see F/N’‘ she left us in silence before I decided to break it.

‘‘But there is something...’‘

Hanji’s face lit up before a devious snicker left her lips. ‘’Ooh! I’ve seen that face before!’’ she says before appearing in front of me on her stomach grinning up to me resting her hands on her cheeks with her legs swinging back and forth facing up towards the ceiling of the tent. ‘’Who is he!? Who’s the boy!?’’ she coo’s as I awkwardly shift in my spot as Hanji keeps grinning. ‘’Well he’s a prince..’’ I start as Hanji awe’s ‘’Aren’t they all? Your man should treat you like a queen and he should be your king- that’s what I always say.’’ she comments doing little hand gestures before returning to her original position grinning up to me. ‘’Well uhm.. No he’s an actual prince’’ I state in a shy manner as Hanji’s grin falters ‘’well I already told you I can’t make anyone love anyone-’’ ‘’No, no, we-we were together for a few months before he.. disappeared, he only came back yesterday with some other princess- I think he’s falling for her even though he was with me- he needs to marry a princess..Wait! Can you make me a princess!?’’ I suddenly ask as Hanji appears back laying in her bed.

‘‘Hun, you need to be specific with your words or else I could make you into any ol’ princess, but if you two were already together- why not give the boot to the new girl and take back your man?’‘ Hanji suggests as I subconsciously pout and look downwards. ‘‘Well I already told you he has to marry a princess plus he said himself he wouldn’t tell his parents that he’s seeing a thief like me’‘ I tell Hanji once again as she rolls her auburn hues. ‘’Girl if he isn’t willing to be with you just because of your title- he ain't worth it, even if y’all are madly in love when I see him I’m shoving my foot up his ass for hurting my baby bean- are you sure you want to be a princess though?’‘ she hums standing up. I nod in confirmation and stand as well. ‘‘You sure?’‘ ‘‘Yes’‘

‘‘Grab the lamp then, don’t forget about that now F/N’‘ she ushers as I hurriedly go and grab the lamp, I began to rub slow circles into the side. ‘‘Hanji.. For my second wish.. I want you to make me a princess.’‘ I say shutting my eyes waiting for us to be flung to yet another random place again. ‘‘I got you girl! You’re going to make every man fall to your feet from how bootiful you are and will become!’‘ Hanji mischievously cackles cracking her knuckles before sending us flying once again. This time we landed a few miles away from the Ackerman kingdom, I could see the castle and the small dot of Levi’s balcony in the bright sunlight far away.

‘‘Alright! Alright so! This current ‘outfit’ isn’t going to suit pure royalty so I gotta fix that real quick..’‘ Hanji murmurs in concentration before hurriedly switching my original outfit from today off and putting on a disturbingly ugly puffy dress instead making me cringe. ‘‘Uh- no, no offence but nobody likes puffy dresses nowadays’‘ I comment as Hanji laughs and slaps her knee. ‘‘I know right! Lemme switch it up for you!’‘ she says before switching the dress again, this time it looked too revealing making us both cringe this time as Hanji rested a finger on her chin in thought. ‘‘Nuh-Uh, that makes you look like your only after his babies unless you are of course~’‘ she sings in a teasing voice before changing the dress again leaving me in an F/C (Favourite Design and Length) dress with a small tiara, light makeup and my hair done into a neat bun. I smiled at the end result and nodded. Hanji widely smiles and throws her hands in the air.

‘‘The crowd goes wild once again for the one and only Hanji! Go Hanji! Go Hanji! Go Hanji!’‘ she sang doing a little celebratory dance. ‘’I love it, thanks Hanji’‘ I say looking it over with a smile as she nods and smiles at me ‘‘won’t people recognize me though?’‘ I ask as she shakes her head no, whistling softly she appeared by my side ‘‘nope, nobody will- that’s how genie magic works! People see what they’re told to see! Now time to get you suited for a ride to get your man!’‘ she cried out excitedly, instantly turning to the monkey who shook his head and backed up a little. Giggling, Hanji cast some blue mist towards the small animal ‘‘we need something that will catch his eye.. A lion! Nah... A giraffe! Nope.. A pack of wolves!.. Not happening.. An elephant! Yes! Big and loud enough to get attention from everywhere!’‘ Hanji yells once again and somehow manages to turn the poor monkey into a large elephant, dressed in some colourful paints and a cute hat.

‘‘And now F/N, we go and get your man!’‘

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