#finally remembered the bookstore was open that day and got to play with cats for a bit and bought books

[twouglytoads]

Folks, I had a pretty good day finally

#I actually did thing things I’ve been wanting to do #worked on my puzzle then went out and grabbed lunch and puzzled some more #finally remembered the bookstore was open that day and got to play with cats for a bit and bought books #well I owe money cause I didn’t have cash and it’s cool they honor that #then went for a walk in this park and had a lil photo shoot and posted some pics #then read my new book that’s cool cause I’ve wanted to read it since high school lmao #the bookstore is pretty cool and I can’t wait to finish these books and get more #like how sweet is it that you can pay later if necessary

[the-bau-quinjet]

Plum Cobbler

Steve x Barnes!reader, Bucky x platonic!reader

Summary: What happens when Steve confronts the woman who's been sitting outside the compound every Saturday for a month?

Warnings: mentions parental death, some cursing

Word Count: 6315

a/n: This really took on a mind of its own. I was going to make it a series, but I feel like this is the whole story.

Masterlist

Nervous didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling. Sitting in your car, just outside of the entrance gate to the Avenger's compound was never somewhere you thought you'd be. Not until two months ago, when you found your grandmas old scrapbooks.

Of course, you don't know how to get inside. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Why would just anyone be able to walk up to their door?

"Who are you?" The sudden question startled you, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of your car. You turned to look at the source of the voice, shrinking under her watchful gaze.

The one and only Natasha Romanoff was standing outside your car, glaring at you as if she was ready to drop everything to take you out.

"Oh, um. My name is Y/N L/N. I just wanted to talk to Bucky..." Her glare only grew stronger as you revealed why you were there.

"Barnes doesn't talk to strangers." Before you could explain why, she was gone. You watched her walk into the compound until she wasn't in your view anymore.

"Well, that went horribly." You mumbled to yourself. Now what? Should you just sit there until someone else comes out? Will anyone come out?

-

"So who is she?" Clint asked as soon as Nat got back inside.

"Why is she here?" Sam added on.

"Said her name is Y/N L/N, and she wants to talk to Bucky." Nat rolled her eyes.

"Friday, run a background check on F/N L/N." Tony asked of the AI. "What? You can never be too careful, and people shouldn't know how to get here." He explained given the questioning looks from the rest of the group.

"Y/N L/N, 27, daughter of the deceased Kathleen and Grant L/N. She owns a bookstore in Brooklyn, passed down through her family. No criminal record." Friday responded quickly.

"Sounds normal enough, probably a fan?" Tony suggested, looking around the room.

"A persistent one. She's been here for hours." Steve looked out the window, still seeing your car just outside the gate. "How did she find the entrance?"

Everyone shared similar looks, unsure how a seemingly normal civilian found the gate.

"Excellent question, Capsicle. Friday, got any ideas?" Tony, as usual, turned to the AI for answers.

"Based on GPS data from her car, she drove around upstate New York for eight hours every Saturday for the last 6 weeks until she came across the side road leading to the compound."

"Either she's really good at looking normal, or she's just normal." Nat added on, still slightly suspicious.

"Well, she just left. I guess we're not getting any answers today." Steve said from his position still looking out the window.

-

You came back every Saturday for a month. You didn't know if anything would come of it, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. After your parent's deaths, you thought you had no family left. Finding out you were related to Bucky gave you a lifeline. Something to cling to when you felt alone.

So far, nobody else had come to talk to you. You didn't even know if Bucky knew you were there for him.

The fifth Saturday, you pulled your car up to the gate at 9 am, sticking to your makeshift schedule of waiting outside for the entire day. They had to at least be curious as to why you kept coming back.

Unfortunately for you, the weather upstate today was not the same as the weather in Brooklyn.

Around 10:30, it started to rain. Just a sprinkling, nothing you couldn't handle.

You listened to music, read, ate the lunch you packed, played games on your phone, anything to pass the time. You weren't going to force your way inside, but you were definitely going to show that you were interested.

Typically, you would leave at 5:30. It gave you enough time to drive home and heat up dinner, plus you had to check in on your cat.

Today, however, was a different story. Around 5:15, it started pouring. Sheets of water were coming down around you, completely cutting off any visibility through the windshield.

You figured you'd just wait out the rain, but when it didn't let up by 6, you were getting nervous.

-

"She's still here." Steve walked into the kitchen, announcing his news to the room.

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly peak driving conditions out there." Sam easily responded, glancing out the window.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" Steve asked again, pushing the same conversation as always.

Nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes, sick of repeating the same things.

"Look, we figured if we ignored her, she'd eventually stop. Clearly, that might not be working. If you're so curious, feel free to go ask her." Tony gave in, eager to move on from the discussion of you.

Steve contemplated his choices for all of 2 seconds before grabbing an umbrella and walking down the driveway.

-

You had your head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, listening to the rain. Of course you would get stuck here. Why didn't you ever check the weather?

You shrieked when a knock sounded on your passenger side window, not having expected anyone, especially in the rain.

Mr. America himself pointed to the door, gesturing for you to unlock it. You sat up quickly, rushing to hit the unlock button.

He quickly opened the door, shutting his umbrella and lowering himself into the small car.

You were utterly speechless. After your brief encounter with Natasha, you didn't really expect anyone to come talk to you.

Sure, you came back every week, but it was more so to fill the lonely hours you would have normally spent with your parents at the bookstore.

You had other employees to run the shop on Saturdays, allowing you to come here instead.

"Why are you here?" He sounded more curious than anything. Clearly he didn't perceive you as a threat, which was good because you had zero fighting experience.

"To talk to Bucky." Your voice was quiet, unsure how much you should share.

"I know that. Why?" He had fully turned in his seat to look at you, his large frame filling nearly the entire car.

"Well, I found something a few months ago that I thought he should know." You stuttered through your response, mildly intimidated by the man in front of you.

"And that something is?" He questioned further, genuinely curious as to what you want to tell his best friend.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the car, looking at anything but him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before speaking again.

"Look, if you ever want to actually talk to him, you should tell me. Buck's been through hell, he won't just talk to anyone. Especially if he has no reason to."

During your conversation, the rain finally let up. You decided to take that as a sign.

"Can I show you something?" You finally looked him in the eye, nearly forgetting why you were even here at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

"Is it the reason you've been out here every Saturday for over a month?" He joked with you, helping to calm your nerves.

You nodded in response, unsure if you could even speak while still looking into his eyes.

"Then please."

You tore your eyes from his face, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the spot you've claimed as your own. You turned around, heading back to your apartment in Brooklyn.

"Wha- where are we going?" He's clearly surprised by your actions, but he doesn't seem worried.

"I'm going to show you what I found, and hopefully you'll let me talk to Bucky." You paused for a minute, thinking. "Although, really I guess it should be his choice. Maybe you can just give him a message for me, and if he doesn't want to talk I'll leave you all alone."

The idea of never getting to know Bucky, you're only remaining family, hurts, but it's got to be his decision.

Steve just nods in response, still slightly wary of your reasons for wanting to talk to Bucky.

When you're a few minutes away from your apartment, you decide to give him some context.

"You probably already know a lot about me, but let me explain a few things." He silently nods, encouraging you to continue.

"My parents died three and a half months ago." You immediately felt like crying, but did your best to hold it in. Of course, Steve didn't miss the break in your voice. "It was a car accident. The weather was bad. They lost control of the car. They were both pronounced dead on the scene." You parked the car, turning slightly to look at him.

"They were the only family I've ever had, and the were both just gone." You turned and opened the car door, taking a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes. You gestured for him to follow you, locking the car and heading inside your apartment building.

"We were really close. I spent every Saturday at the bookstore with them." You wiped the tears again as the elevator doors closed.

You didn't chance looking at Steve, knowing you would break down at the look of pity.

"I had to go through the stuff at their house. You know, decide what to bring here, what to put in storage, what to get rid of. I found some old scrapbooks, I think from my great grandma."

You lead him into your apartment, locking the door and immediately heading to the kitchen to feed your cat. After you set down the food, you moved to the couch. You had the scrapbooks on the coffee table, having taken every opportunity to look through them.

"I never knew her. My parents didn't talk about her either, I'm not sure if they knew who she was. Her name was Rebecca." You waited a beat, to see if he would understand. When he remained quiet, you handed him one of the books, open to a page with a picture of Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca. "Rebecca Barnes."

You waited again, letting the information sink in for him. After a few minutes he smiled.

"I remember this day." He looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "It was a few days before Bucky was enrolled. We had a picnic." He continued to reminisce, looking through the other pictures in the scrapbook.

"Maybe it's selfish, maybe he won't want to know me, but when I found out I had more family, I wanted to find him." Again, tears pooled in your eyes. "I, I just don't want to be alone."

Steve's smile faltered as he realized what you've been going through, and how you've been doing it alone.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you." He reached out to place a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you.

"Really?" Your eyes were still watery, but a small smile grew on your face.

"I think so. Bucky was really close with his sister when we were young." This time, Steve's eyes grew watery, memories of his youth playing through his mind.

You couldn't take the sight of him being sad, so you pulled him into a hug. He came willingly, letting you bury your face in his chest. He lowered his head so it was overtop of yours, relishing in the comfort of your hug.

You pulled away a few minutes later, not wanting to overstep, but the feeling of his arms around your waist didn't let you go far.

"Thank you for coming out to my car." You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His face was so close to yours, you could make out the individual shades of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me." He whispered back, not wanting to break the moment.

You're not sure how long you would've stayed like that, but a loud crack of thunder jolted you apart.

"What the-" You mumbled, walking over to the window to look outside. Steve followed close behind you, also curious about the weather.

It was now pouring, lightning and thunder cracking overhead.

"I guess the storm followed us to Brooklyn." He joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess so." You looked at the clock, taking in the late hour.

Steve must've followed your line of sight, because he spoke up. "It's getting late, I should probably go."

You immediately shook your head, your fear of travelling in bad weather shining through. "I can't let you leave when it's like this. It's not safe. You, um, you can stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the couch." You grew more confident as you kept talking.

"I couldn't impose like that." Steve shook his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Steve, it's not safe to travel when it's raining like that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Your voice grew tighter, trying not to flashback to the day your parents died.

Steve seemed to realize why you were so worried about the weather, ultimately deciding to agree to stay so you wouldn't worry about him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stay here, but you sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the couch." He refused your offer, not wanting to force you to spend a night on the couch.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, you are sleeping in the bed. You're like two feet taller than me." You exaggerated your height difference, but you were trying to make a point. "You won't even be able to lay down on the couch. I take naps here all the time, it's super comfortable." You argued back, unwilling to allow Captain America himself sleep on your tiny ass couch.

"You know, I should've expected you to be this stubborn. You spent five weeks waiting outside the compound with no contact. Plus you're related to Bucky" He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head. "Fine, I'll sleep in the bed."

You smiled victoriously, jumping up from the couch. "Yay! Do you need anything? I have spare toothbrushes under the sink, and I can probably find you some clothes to sleep in. There's some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry. Oh! And Carrot might try to lay in the bed with you, but I'll try to keep her out here." You rambled, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

"Carrot?" He smiled at your rambling, finding it adorable.

"Yes! Carrot is my cat. She's a cuddler, so consider yourself warned." You paused, eyes growing wide. "You're not allergic to cats are you? I think there's probably cat fur all over my room."

He laughed again. "No, I don't think the super soldier serum left any room for allergies." He quipped.

You smacked a hand to your forehead. "Duh! Anyway, do you need anything?" You asked again, trying to calm your beating heart.

"Some clothes would be great, thank you." The way he smiled at you did nothing to soothe your nerves.

"Okay." You breathed out, finally taking a deep breath. "I'll go grab some, the bathroom is right here if you need it." You pointed it out on your way to your room. "I'm just gonna get changed real quick, and then I'll be back with your clothes."

He nodded again, watching as you turned and walked into what must be your room.

You quickly changed into a t-shirt and sleep shorts. It took a few minutes of searching through boxes, but eventually you found an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for Steve to sleep in.

You made your way out of the bedroom, handing him the clothes.

"Here ya go. Like I said, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, and don't hesitate to grab anything you need from the kitchen."

He eyed the clothes in his hands, wondering where they came from, but not wanting to ask.

Luckily for him, you could tell what he was wondering. "They were my dad's." A sad smile graced your face. "I- I sleep in them sometimes when I really wish I could talk to him."

"Thank you." Steve turned to go to bed, but changed his mind last minute. He set the clothes down on the couch, pulling you into another hug. "You know, I can tell your related to Buck. He always looks out for people too."

You blushed at the compliment, grateful he couldn't see your face. "Thank you, that really means a lot." You stayed like that until Steve pulled back to talk to you again.

"I can take you back to the compound tomorrow, if you want. Maybe introduce you to Bucky."

"Really?! You don't want to talk to him first? Or double check anything I told you?" You were shocked at how willing he was to introduce you to Bucky.

"I trust you. Plus, I think you should be the one to tell him." Steve didn't say it out loud, but he also thought you and Bucky would be good for each other.

Bucky had Steve to connect his past and present, but another person for him to rely on wouldn't hurt. And you clearly were looking for a family connection.

"I would love to. Thank you!" You hugged him again, although quicker this time. You jumped back, excited to collect everything you wanted to show him. "I have to find all the scrapbooks to show him!"

When you turned to start collecting things, Steve put a hand on your shoulder, essentially preventing you from moving.

"Why don't we get everything together in the morning? It's getting late and you should get some sleep." He understood how emotionally and physically draining it could be to relive a loss like yours.

"You're right. I should sleep." You tried to slow your mind down, but the prospect of meeting Bucky tomorrow filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves. You gathered your extra blankets and pillows, setting up a bed for yourself on the couch while he went into the bathroom.

You were snuggled in bed, ready to sleep when he came back out.

"Goodnight, Steve."

His heart contracted at how adorable you looked buried in blankets on the couch, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd only just met you after all.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

-

The next morning Steve woke up at 5, per usual. He didn't want to wake you up though, so, despite his natural tendencies to run 10 miles every Sunday morning, he stayed in bed.

That is, until he heard you shuffling around the apartment.

He poked his head out of the room first, trying to verify that you were indeed awake. When he saw you in the kitchen, he fully emerged intent on helping you with whatever you were doing.

"Good morning, you're an early riser?" His question was completely ignored. Granted you couldn't see him yet, but he didn't know why you would be ignoring him.

He made his way closer to you, tapping you on the shoulder to try and get you to interact with him.

You, in a mixture of surprise and fear, turned and threw an egg at him.

He looked at you in shock, while you stared in horror at what you had just done.

You took headphones out of your ears, explaining why you hadn't heard his question.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" You reached toward him with a dish towel, trying to wipe the egg off his (your dad's) shirt. "You just surprised me! I can get you another shirt!"

"It's fine, don't worry-" You ran out of the room anyway, grabbing another shirt of your dad's from the box in your room.

He couldn't help but laugh, oddly relieved that you weren't ignoring him.

When you reentered the kitchen, a shirtless Steve Rogers was washing your dad's shirt in the sink. You froze, taking in the sight of the man before you.

When he turned back around, your eyes took on a mind of their own, soaking in his toned chest and arms. You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your stupor to hand him the other shirt.

"Thanks." He smirked, but still blushed slightly before he put it on, ringing out the other shirt before handing it to you. "I didn't want the egg to stick to it since it was your dads, so i rinsed it off..." he trailed off, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

"That's really sweet, thank you. Especially because it was my fault there was even egg on it in the first place." You laughed, trying not to blush with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, really. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He laughed as well, clearing any lingering tension. He took a look around the kitchen, taking in just how much stuff you had out.

"What are you making?" He smiled when you blushed again.

"Oh, I was making plum cobbler... I just, I read online that Bucky likes plums, so I thought I would bring him a cobbler." You blushed again, embarrassed by the admission.

"He does." Steve smiled, completely enamoured with your personality. "Did you want some help?"

"Actually, the cobblers are in the oven already. I was going to make breakfast next, though, so you can help with that." You smiled, noting how easy it was to spend time with him.

"Cobblers? I know Bucky's a super soldier, but one would have been plenty." He joked with you, moving to help scramble some eggs.

"Well, yeah. One is for him, but then I thought the other Avengers might be there and I didn't want to not have enough so I made three."

"You're too cute." The words slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying.

You blushed again, a frequent occurrence it seems when you're with Steve.

You uttered a quick thanks, trying to change the subject. "Do you always get up this early?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, typically I don't need much sleep. I usually run in the mornings, try to clear my head."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, moving around each other effortlessly to make eggs, sausage, toast, and smoothies for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you collected the scrapbooks Bucky might want to see. You added his mom's wedding ring, the one your mom wore as well, to the box.

"What's that?" Steve pointed to the box, unsure if his assumption was correct.

You pulled out two scrapbooks, pointing to the near identical pictures of Bucky's mom and your mom after having been proposed to.

"My mom always told me her engagement ring was a family heirloom. I think it was his mom's ring too. I thought he might like to have it. As something to remember her by, ya know?"

You got teary eyed again. Thinking about how much he must miss his family combined with how much you miss your own parents was too much to handle.

You finished gathering everything, putting it all in a box to make for easier transportation. You took the cobblers out of the oven, packing them as well.

With a deep breath, you followed Steve back out to your car, ready to talk to Bucky.

-

"Where the hell is Steve?" Bucky nearly stormed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, calm down tinman. What's up?" Sam replied casually, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Where is Steve? I was supposed to run with him this morning, but he wasn't in his room when I went to find him. I don't even like running this early. I literally only do it because it's what he prefers."

Sam laughed, enjoying anything that annoys Bucky. "Dude, chill. He probably just forgot you were going with him."

Tony walked into the kitchen as well, trying to tune out the whines coming from Bucky, but failing.

"That's what I though, but he's always back by now." Bucky huffed, annoyed with Sam for laughing.

"Who?" Tony asked, now slightly intrigued.

"Steve. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Bucky replied as he angrily ate an apple.

"Really?" Tony sounded mildly concerned, immediately alerting Sam and confusing Bucky.

"You don't think?" Sam asked, ignoring Bucky for the time being.

"I don't know!" Tony looked bewildered. "Friday, where is Capsicle?"

"Captain Rogers left yesterday evening with Y/N L/N." The AI easily replied.

"Who?" Bucky questioned the room, never having learned your name.

"You know the woman who's been sitting outside every Saturday?" Bucky nodded to Sam, unsure why he was bringing it up. "Well, Steve went to ask her why she was here last night."

"Nat told me she was just some fan, wanted to see you all." Bucky furrowed his brow, thinking over the new information on Steve's wearabouts.

"Well, yeah that's what we thought. Look, she said she wanted to talk to you specifically." Sam explained, ignoring the pointed glare from Tony.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky rose from his chair, annoyed at everyone now. "Now she's got Steve?"

"Relax, Steve can handle himself. She cleared her background check. We really don't have any reason to believe he's in danger." Tony's words were more to convince himself than anyone else. He's the one who said Cap should go check it out if he was so curious.

"Steve's too trusting. What if it was a trap?" Bucky questioned, glaring daggers at the other two men.

Before they could respond, Friday chimed in with more information.

"Captain Rogers just entered the elevator from the parking garage."

"See, he's fine." Tony glared back at Bucky, secretly relieved that Steve was fine.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before leaving, heading for the elevators to yell at Steve for ditching him this morning.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Steve was not alone.

"Hey, punk, why'd you ditch me- Oh. Who are you?" Bucky eyed you suspiciously, looking between you and Steve.

Before Bucky interrupted, Steve was trying to reassure you that everything would work out. He had a hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your nerves.

His other arm was occupied by the box of scrapbooks, or else he probably would have hugged you again.

You were holding a large sheet pan, three pie dishes sitting on top.

Steve was blushing, a surefire sign Bucky had seen something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh, um. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N." You froze, not thinking you would have to see him so soon. You could see the family resemblance between him, your great grandma, and your mom.

"The car girl." He nodded, trying to piece together the events of last night.

"Yep, that's me." You laughed nervously, unsure of what he already knew.

"Buck, do me a favor? Let us out of the elevator." Steve eyed him, mildly annoyed with the ambush.

Bucky moved to the side, allowing you and Steve to exit the elevator. You followed Steve down the hall to the kitchen, where you put the cobblers on the counter.

Sam and Tony were still there, eating various foods.

"Well, hello there." Tony greeted when he spotted you, intrigued by the development. He looked at Steve for an explanation.

"Y/N made plum cobbler." Steve said instead, moving his hand back to the small of your back.

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of plums, enough to momentarily distract him from Steve's actions.

"Oh, right!" You took a cobbler out of the dish, moving toward Bucky. "This one's for you, because I read that you liked plums." You handed him the dish, quickly moving back to the others. "I also made a peach and an apple for everyone else." You smiled at Tony and Sam, unknowingly leaning slightly into Steve.

"Why does he get a special cobbler?" Sam whined, eagerly reaching for the other dishes.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Well, except Sam's who were on the peach cobbler.

"Oh, um, well, I was hoping I could talk to you." You looked at Bucky nervously, unsure of how he would respond.

"Anyone who bakes me a plum cobbler can talk to me, Doll." Natasha chose that exact moment to enter the room.

"Who made plum cobbler?" She looked around the room, eyes narrowing in your direction. "How did you get in here?"

"I brought her." Steve smiled at you before walking over to Natasha. He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear, but nobody else. "She's not a threat to your relationship, trust me."

Nat nodded her head, trusting Steve, although not for the reasons he thought. She could clearly see the blonde's affinity for you.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Bucky asked between bites of cobbler.

"It's really a private conversation." Steve answered for you, seeing how unsure of yourself you were.

"Then why do you know, punk?" Bucky countered.

"Well, I had to tell someone so I could finally talk to you. Steve's the one who asked." You smiled at Steve again, trying to convey how grateful you were with just a look.

Steve smiled back at you, while everyone in else just shared a knowing look.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "Buck, can you just come with us?"

Bucky nodded, moving to follow Steve while still eating the cobbler. You followed the two of them as well, growing more nervous with each step.

Steve lead you to his room, placing the box of scrapbooks on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Steve looked to you for an answer.

You took a deep breath, in all honestly you would love for him to stay, but you think you should probably just talk to Bucky first.

"No, that's okay. Come back in like, 30 minutes?" You scrunched up your face, unsure if 30 minutes was long enough, but knowing you would need the deadline if you were ever going to explain it all to Bucky.

Steve nodded, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you to leave the room.

"Um," you turned to Bucky, trying to think of where to start. "I don't know what you already know about me, but-"

"Nothing really. Except that you make a delicious plum cobbler." He smiled, helping to ease your nerves. Food really was the way to this man's heart.

"Oh, I guess I'll start where I started when I told Steve." You smiled at the mention of his name, unaware of your own actions. But Bucky noticed.

"My parents died a few months ago." Bucky's eyes went wide, trying to think of what this could have to do with him. "Um, it was a car accident. They both died on the scene." You took a deep breath, trying to push through the sad parts.

"I had to clean out their house, and I found some scrapbooks that lead me to you." You shifted closer to the bed, looking through the scrapbooks you brought.

You pulled out the one with the first picture you showed Steve, opening it and gesturing for Bucky to take it.

He set the cobbler on Steve's nightstand, cautiously reaching for the book. He looked at the picture for a long time before saying anything. And when he did talk, it was a whispered "Becca..."

He ran his fingers over the picture slowly, just staring. A few minutes later, he eagerly flipped the page. He spent a good 10 minutes just looking through all the books you handed him.

"Where did you get these?" He questioned, although not accusingly.

"I found them in my parents house. They were with a bunch of my grandma's stuff that she had from her mom." You wanted to ease him into it.

"So your great grandma..." He trailed off, disbelief clear across his face.

"Was Rebecca Barnes." You finished the sentence for him, nerves clear in your voice.

You weren't sure what to say next, so you waited for him to make the next move.

"So you're my... great-grand niece?" You nodded at his question, still unsure if he was happy with the news. "God, that makes me feel old."

You nearly cackled, surprised by the joke. He smiled when you laughed, glad to have cleared some of the tension.

"Why did you want to find me?" He questioned, the mood turning more serious again.

"Well, I was really close to my parents. They were the only family I had. When I found out you are family too, I just... I knew I needed to at least tell you." You shrugged at the end, unsure if you really answered his question.

"You wanted to tell me so badly that you sat outside the compound every Saturday for five weeks even after being ignored?" He was in shock that anyone would spend that much time and effort just to talk to him. You started panicking immediately.

"I'm so sorry if you didn't want to know! It was selfish of me to force this on you. I can go, if you want. You don't have to talk to me." You started questioning everything. You moved to put the books back in the box when he stopped you.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, you can keep those. If you want!" Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks when you remembered the ring. You froze with your hand in the box, not knowing if you'd want to part with it knowing you'd never see Bucky again.

"Y/N..." Something in the way he said your name made you look at him. "I- I'm glad you told me. Really glad. I, uh, I never thought I would have family, well besides Steve. You know what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, and you noticed the tears in his eyes.

"I don't want you to go. It's just hard for me..." he paused, trying to figure out his emotions. "It's hard to believe that someone would care about me that much."

"Bucky, I don't know you." He frowned at your statement. "But, I would love to get to know you." You smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not so sure you would." His face was hard, staring at the ground.

"Bucky, you aren't a bad person. I mean, sure you've done bad things, but it wasn't your choice. You were forced to do those things. You can't let yourself be defined by them. You're here aren't you?"

"Here?" He questioned.

"Working with the Avengers, I mean. You go on missions to help save people. That's your choice. That's who you are. I would be honored to get to know that person."

You smiled, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure?" He still looked unsure.

"God, maybe I get my stubbornness from you." You both laughed at that. "I am 100% sure."

"Wow." He shook his head, still in shock.

A knock sounded on the door before Steve came back in. "Is now a good time?" He asked, still standing in the doorway.

You nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." You pulled him into a hug, needing the emotional support.

"Of course. I'm happy I could help." He rubbed your back, reciprocating the hug. "Did you give him the ring yet?" He asked when you took a step back.

You shook your head, reaching into the box for the last item. "I, um, I thought you might want this." You handed him the box, nerves peaking through again.

He opened it, a soft smile on his face when he recognized it. "My mom's engagement ring."

You smiled, happy that he recognized it. "It was my mom's as well."

The two of you stared a the ring for awhile, reminiscing on time spent with your parents.

Eventually, Bucky picked the cobbler back up, not wanting to let it go to waste.

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend. "Wow, jerk. You're just gonna go back to eating."

"Yes, punk. My great-grand niece made me a plum cobbler, and I tend to fully enjoy it."

"Great-grand niece. Ha, that makes you sound so old."

It was fun for you to see the two interacting like this, especially after the emotional hurdles you just ran.

"It's fine, Stevie. Let him enjoy the cobbler." Your face went red, not having meant to use the nickname.

"Yeah Stevie, let me enjoy the cobbler." Bucky couldn't help but poke fun, knowing there was an unspoken attraction between the two of you.

Somehow your face got even redder. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Fine, eat your cobbler. Only because I had some of the apple one and it was delicious. It would be a shame to waste any."

You smiled at the compliment, embarrassment subsiding a bit. Steve sat down on the bed between you and Bucky, eager to ask his friend about some of the pictures. Steve put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder as he spoke to Bucky.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, exhausted since your nerves kept you up most of the night. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder, soaking in his warmth as you cuddled closer.

Steve just rubbed your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the interaction, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh my god. My best friend likes my great-grand niece. And she likes him." He said it so matter of fact, the two of you didn't bother denying it. You just smiled, and cuddled closer together.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x natasha #bucky barnes x natasha romanoff #tony stark #sam wilson #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel fic #clint barton #Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

[sleepy-belphie]

I have a request if you’re up for it. An MC who just arrived in the Devildom who’s lover just dumped them the day prior. The bros know MC isn’t emotionally or romantically available at the time but the bros still fall in love regardless. How will the bros handle the situation? Thank you! 🙏💗

Hi! I sort of took this idea and ran with it and wrote basically a headcanon short story for each bro lmao. Sorry I got a bit carried away but I hope you like this and it satisfies you! :) 

Also thank you so much @midnight-dome for the help with Asmo, you’re a lifesaver

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

The success of the program depends on your wellbeing

So he checks in on you every other day like clockwork 

“Is there anything you need to make your stay more comfortable?”

You always say no

At first, he’s glad you’re staying in 

Because it means less trouble for him

But when you skip all of your classes one day, he comes to your room ready to give you a firm reminder of your tasks here

He’s about to knock when he hears you sob 

Now, Lucifer has heard a lot of crying in his life

But he’s never heard someone sound so completely broken

He shocks himself when he turns on his heels and walks away

He shocks himself even more when he texts the group chat and demands everyone leaves you alone for the day

That evening he comes into your room with a small plate of food

By then you were are least on top of your sheets

You knew he was gonna ask the same question as always

But this time, his words were different

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Help?” 

He simply nods

And though he didn’t outright say what he meant by help, you knew

“I...don’t know?”

“Hm, okay. I’m going to listen to some music in my study. The door will be unlocked should you wish to join me.”

Then he’s gone

The few precious moments Lucifer isn’t working, he prefers to not be disturbed

So why on earth did he invite you to join him in his study?

He doesn’t have time to ponder it because the door opens and you come in with a blanket wrapped around you

The first night you both listen in comfortable silence

A few nights in, you start asking Lucifer about the records he puts on and he has no qualms educating you on it

On night 10 you tell him about the breakup

Once you’re done he, again, asks the same question

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

‘You’ve done more than enough to help me Lucifer, thank you.”

He finds himself blushing from the sincerity in your eyes and the warmth in your smile

That night you fall asleep before the record finishes

Surely you’d wake up aching if he left you in a chair

So he picks you up, carries you to your room, and tucks you into bed carefully

He tells himself he’s doing it for Diavolo

It’s for the program, this is his job

He’s gonna need time to accept his own feelings before he can tell you anything

For now, he’ll keep doing his “job” and spending evenings with you

Mammon:

He didn’t want to be your babysitter

He was a busy guy! He had stuff to do, money to make, things to steal

Some days he gets Beelzebub to keep an eye on you so he can do what he wants

One night in particular he heads to your room to make sure you won’t interfere with his plans

“Yo! The Great Mammon has things to do so don’t-”

He pauses when he sees you sitting on your bed with your headphones plugged into your laptop

He would have assumed you were just watching a sad movie by the tears streaks on your face

But the pain in your eyes…

He’s seen that look before

His brothers held that same look the day they fell from Heaven and lost Lilith

Mammon sits on the bed and you jump, finally noticing him

You expected him to make fun of you but instead, he grabs the tissue box on your bedside table and hands it to you

He glances at your laptop to see what you were watching and sees a paused video of you and someone else

You tell him about the breakup and Mammon listens closely

“What a jerk! Ya deserve better than that! I’d teach ‘em a lesson if they ever showed their face around here!”

You smile for the first time since he came in the room and he feels like he’s done something right

“How about we get some late-night food? I know a 24-hour restaurant with the best baked newt ever. Your treat.”

He’s shocked when you agree

He makes a point to hang out with you more often

He can’t recall exactly when you went from “a human” to “his human” 

Maybe it was when you held his hand while you erased all your photos and videos of your ex from your computer

Or when you texted him at 3am because you couldn’t sleep and before he could even think about it he was up and on his way to your room

Or when he spotted you in one of his jackets while walking home from RAD

But his greed was kicking in and he wanted you to be his and only his

However, much like he puts himself first, he knows you need to do the same

So though his nature and mind wants to kiss you silly and have you for himself

Part of him knows he’ll ruin things if he lets his greed take over

So he’ll fight his nature and try his best to be patient

Leviathan:

He had been playing one of his games online

He’s on a big winning streak and feeling a bit cocky

He sees he’s been matched with someone else so he gets into gamer mode 

Then he loses the first round

He’s a bit shocked and pissed that his streak was now broken but he has to prove his superiority to whoever this opponent was

So he rematches them

And loses again

And again

He loses 7 rounds in a row

By this point he is fuming

So like any salty gamer he sends a very lengthy, angry message to their inbox

Accusing them of using cheats and hacks because there was no way anyone was more skilled than him at this game

He gets a reply a few minutes later

“Um.....is this Leviathan? Avatar of Envy? It’s MC…”

You knew it was Levi because his username is the same across all his social media platforms

Cue Levi barreling into your room a minute later

“How are you so good!? You’re cheating, aren’t you!? You cheater!’

You weren’t cheating, you just had been playing games day in and day out to distract yourself so you got really good at it

Levi all but demands you to come to his room and show him what you know

You were already playing all night anyway so why not play with someone? 

Initially, Levi would have you come over just to show him your tactics 

(Also to get some team wins on his stats because he never has anyone to play with)

But you were actually pretty chill for a normie

Maybe if he exposed you to his otaku ways you would take to them and he wouldn’t be the only one in the house anymore!

You don’t become an otaku but you do get invested in almost every anime he shows you

He starts inviting you over for midnight premieres of new episodes

He starts buying extra merch because what if you wanted one?

He was used to disproving looks from his brothers when he mass buys stuff from Akuzon

But you only smile and listen when he tells you about his new special edition item

You never once judged him and his unconventional ways

This epiphany makes him extra nervous for your weekly hangouts

It was only a matter of time before you came across a break up in an anime

When the episode ended you told him about your break up and how the protagonist reminded you of yourself because they also were taking a break from love

Levi has seen this anime before actually

He remembers how the protagonist reacted to a side character confessing to them and it went bad

So while he knows he likes you, he holds off on saying anything because the last thing he wants is to be a bad story arc in your life

Lucky for him he’s always a flustered blushing mess so you shouldn’t suspect a thing

Satan:

He is the Avatar of Wrath so whenever there is rage, he is aware

He feels anger radiating through the house one day and thinks his brothers are just fighting again

Imagine his surprise when he realizes the source of the anger is coming from your room

He walks in and sees you throwing things around and screaming, your room was destroyed

He sees you’re about to step on some glass and instantly swoops in and picks you up so you don’t hurt yourself

But then you curl up against him and burst into tears

He stands there, not quite sure what to do 

He ends up sitting on the bed and letting you cry for a while

You word vomit about your break up and he listens carefully and notes the anger welling up inside you as you speak

He knows all too well what anger can do to someone and a fragile human shouldn’t have to go through that

“Would you like some tea?”

He can spare 30 minutes for some small talk with the human if it meant that you wouldn’t be left in your thoughts

You look at him like he has three heads but agree because your room is a mess and you don’t wanna deal with it right now

Tea time becomes a daily occurrence and soon enough it escalates to full-on hangouts

Going to the bookstore, going to cat cafes, going wherever you wanted to really

One time you both took a day trip to the human world

Lucifer wasn’t happy to find out his brother and you were gone for an entire day but he lets it go when he sees that you’re smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks

What Satan didn’t expect was how these outings made him feel

He finds himself distracted from his books because he can’t stop thinking about how cute you looked holding that black cat at the cafe

Or how happy you looked when you took him to that ice cream shop in your hometown that you really love

He wakes up and you’re the first thing to pop into his mind

He’s not dumb, he knows he’s fallen in love

But he also knows this isn’t the right time, you aren’t ready

So he’ll keep being there for you as a friend

And if you ever want him to be there as something more, he’ll happily oblige

Asmodeus:

There was a movie night at the House of Lamentation

Today’s movie was an action movie, courtesy of Mammon

Amidst all the face punching and explosions, there was a budding romance between the main characters

After the third obnoxious makeout scene, you leave the room claiming you need to go to the restroom

But you leave just a *little* too fast and Asmo can feel something is up

And he thrives on gossip so he intends to find out what is it

He leaves the room a few minutes later and catches you in the hallway, determined to get you to spill the tea

You tell him about the breakup

He wasn’t prepared for the tea to be so bitter

“Oh. Well, you know what’s good for that? Face masks!” 

He had to save face somehow and beauty was his default

He’s a bit shocked when you agree but you both ditch movie night to do face masks and talk a bit

He decides to share a couple of bad date experiences he’s had to make you feel better

“Trust me, you haven’t felt embarrassment until you have someone vomit Enfield brains on your new pants and shoes while at one of the hottest clubs in the Devildom.”

You spent the entire night giggling and listening to his stories

Devildom products are surprisingly effective on your skin so you keep asking Asmo to show you new products

Plus his company is nice

Self-care days become a common occurrence

Then those self-care days become self-care sleepovers

He starts intentionally waiting to try anything new because he wants you to be there when he does

He buys more of those scented candles you told him smelled nice

A few weeks later you’re having a self-care sleepover again and you have this really cute focused look on your face while painting your nails

He knows he likes you, but this was different than his usual attraction

He didn’t want to fuck you

Well he did but not just fuck you

He wouldn’t mind if there was something more

But you routinely ended your self-care nights by yelling ‘Fuck love!’ at the top of your lungs and laughing

So he knows now isn’t the time and he’s actually okay with that

You were a sight to behold regardless of his relationship status with you

But he hopes you’ll indulge in him one day

Beelzebub:

Mammon keeps pushing his human watching duties on Beel

But he doesn’t really care because he’s being paid in cheesecake

After his third day of keeping an eye on you, he notices you aren’t eating much

Being the Avatar of Gluttony, this is basically a crime

He starts bringing extra snacks with him when he hangs out with you

“I think the chocolate flavor is better than the vanilla. What do you think?”

He actually doesn’t have a preference 

He just wants to know which snacks you like more so he can bring more of them

He makes a game out of it so you don’t think about how much you’re eating

“It motivates me to work out longer when I get a snack, could you help me?”

You sit on his back and after every pushup, you both eat a bit of whatever snack he has

He keeps going until he thinks you’ve eaten a decent amount

Or you say you’re getting full

Belphie notices that Beel is refilling his snack stash more often but he doesn’t say anything

Beel feels an immense sense of accomplishment when you finish your plate at dinner a few days later

Soon after you tell him about the breakup

“It hit me hard but you made it easier to cope, Beel. These hangouts are the highlight of my day so thank you.”

There’s a certain pang Beel gets in his stomach when he’s really hungry

Somehow your words made that pang happen in his chest

But this didn’t hurt him, quite the opposite actually

He felt good, he felt happy

It was strange for his stomach to be the quiet one while his heart went wild

But this wasn’t a change he minded too much

He wasn’t sure what to make of it but he knows he wants to figure it out with you

And he’ll take his time doing so because he liked how things were now

Belphegor:

He’s intrigued by you after the first week of your stay

He’s never seen a human who slept as much as he did

Frankly, he was impressed

Until Lucifer informed everyone about your recent breakup and made it clear to not upset you

That’s when Belphie realized these were not the leisurely naps he takes, but depression naps

One day he sees you sleeping in the living room and you looked so distressed

Sleeping was meant to be a peaceful state but you looked so unhappy

So he wakes you up

“You’re in my sleeping spot.”

You weren’t in his sleeping spot.

“Oh sorry, I’ll move-”

“You’re already here. We can both fit.” 

Before you can protest he’s all comfy next to you and falling back asleep

Having another person next to you was kind of comforting so you let it go and go back to sleep

What you didn’t know was Belphie could partially influence your dreams

He can make them more pleasant but he can’t control what you dream about

He knows it works when he wakes up and you have a relaxed expression on your sleeping face

You wake up soon after looking confused

“Good dream?”

“I think? I had a dream I rode a unicorn to the moon then carved my initials into it?”

Napping together in the living room becomes a routine

And every time you woke up you told him about the dream you had with a small smile

A few weeks later he notices he no longer has to influence your dreams for them to be good

So he leaves you be and instead curls up in the attic for his afternoon nap

He wakes up a bit when he feels someone lay down next to him

It’s probably Beel

“Why didn’t you tell me you moved napping spots?”

His eyes open and he looks over to see you pouting at him

“I just sorta ended up here.”

“Well, I can’t nap without my cuddle buddy now can I?”

You’re teasing him and he should be annoyed

But he’s blushing

He spoons you to hide that fact, resting his forehead on your shoulder

But while your dreams were getting better, it didn’t mean you were ready to move on

So he just enjoys his intimate cuddling sessions with you and tries not to think too hard about the fact that he really likes how your body fits against his

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader #annazonabeth

[sergeantsporks]

Douxie Appreciation Week, Day 1: 21st century

”Hey, Arch? How long of a nap do you think it takes for magical wounds to heal over?”

Archie glanced at his familiar. He was staring out the bookshop window again, as if waiting for Merlin to walk up the streets. “Who can say?”

Douxie was quiet for a moment, just a moment. “You think he’s forgotten about us?”

Archie glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall, wondering why Douxie would possibly be thinking about—oh. It was the anniversary of the Battle at Kilahead. “I doubt it. You’re not easy to forget, Douxie.”

“History seems to have done it pretty well,” Douxie replied glumly, playing with the pages of an open book.

Archie jumped up onto the bookstore counter next to him. The book he was looking at was Arthurian legend. And there was Merlin, in all of his old glory, standing next to Arthur. Morgana lurked in the background, ominous and threatening. And Douxie, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

Archie put his paw down on the page, preventing Douxie from flipping the pages around. “Alright, that’s enough moping, you. Stop looking at the past. It’s a legend, anyway, it’s not history. You need to get out. You spend all of your time either here or at the café, or hunting monsters. You need some down time.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s always nagging me to work on my techniques, or study my monsterology?”

Beside the point. “Shoo! Go… have fun! Bother Zoe or something!”

Douxie grinned, picking Archie up. “Fine, but you’re coming, too.” He glanced at the calendar. “I… don’t want to be alone.”

Archie purred. “I’ll never leave you alone.”

Douxie flipped the “open” sign to “closed” and locked up the shop behind him. “You know what I want to do?”

Archie padded alongside him. No one was really around. “What?”

“Try to get into trollmarket.”

Archie skidded to a stop. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Ah, c’mon, Arch, it’ll be fun!”

“You and I have a very different idea of fun! Have you forgotten that one, they don’t like humans, and two, they think cats are delicious?”

Douxie hopped up on a low brick wall, his arms out for balance. “That’s why it’s fun, Archie, because they don’t want us there! Well, they do want you there, but not for a good reason.”

“Find something else to do.”

Douxie halted. “What about… that?”

Archie jumped up on the wall to see blinking lights. “The arcade? Bit outdated, isn’t it?”

“Ah, c’mon! It’ll be a fun waste of money!” Douxie grinned. “Plus, they have Dance Dance Revolution.”

Archie shuddered, glancing around before shape-shifting into one of Douxie’s coworkers. “Please, please, please, PLEASE do not restart your eighties phase. Please. I am begging you.”

“Horrifying. Promise. I’m going to go play cheesy arcade games, and it’s going to be awesome.”

Archie followed him into the loud arcade. At least it wasn’t breaking into troll market. Filled with yelling kids and loud, beeping machines, but no one would eat him.

“The nice thing about this century,” Douxie yelled to Archie, “is that it’s very concerned with preserving the last one.” He ran up to the dancing game. “Hahahaha, yesssssss!”

“Oh, boy,” Archie muttered. Douxie had really, really liked this game when it first came out. For reasons unknown. And had gotten really good at it.

Douxie put a few quarters in the machine and selected a song. Archie watched him start, perfectly in tune with the music, his feet slamming the right buttons. He wasn’t blinking, just stepping in time to the music. Archie watched him, mesmerized. Seriously. He wasn’t blinking. And was hitting every single perfect. Wow.

Douxie hit the final move, and the machine started beeping. “Perfect score!” it announced. The kid in line behind Douxie’s jaw dropped.

“Ha, ha!” Douxie crowed, “I am master of dance-step, musician supreme! Timing maestro!” He clicked in initials, “HDC” then grinned at Archie. “Look, I got a perfect score!”

“Yes, well done. I’m very embarrassed for you.”

Douxie grinned. “You’re just jealous because cats can’t play.”

“Good job, you figured me out.”

“No one can beat that score, Arch. No one.”

Archie smiled at Douxie’s excitement. There. One familiar, cheered up. “Congratulations. You will be remembered in the history of Arcadia as the Dance Dance Revolution perfect score. HDC.”

Douxie nudged his shoulder. “Well, y’know what? That’s not such a bad thing to be remembered for.”

@moppetwithamanbun

@einahpetsyarcip

@ohfuzzbuckets

#toa #tales of arcadia #douxie #tales of arcadia: wizards #douxieappreciationweek

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 15.5

Douxie x fem reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist in bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 15.5 summary: You take your kitten over to meet Archie and Douxie gets a little jealous. Fluffy!!

A/n: I don’t know why, but I always picture Douxie living at the bookstore??? My sister does too and that's just how I wrote it. Also for the name I went with Mao because I fell in love with it, but thank you so much for the other names y'all suggested. They were lovely.

Through your tireless search for a name for your kitten you had come across the name Mao. It had been around midnight a few days after Jim and everyone had left. You had been searching through the obscure baby name websites when you saw it. It had come up as a similar name to Mai and you had imidietly fallen in love with it. The name just seemed so fitting for your little kitten.

The two of you had really bonded over the past few days and it was nice to have her around. She was very comforting and today she was giving you an excuse to leave your baby ridden house.

After NotEnrique had given the cradle stone to your mom and Strickler they had decided to adopt the kids. Now there were cradles all over your house and you were a little tired of all the crying. However, you did love to see your mom so happy and the babies were very cute.

You placed Mao on a pillow in the passenger seat of your car and you pulled out of your driveway. Today you were taking her to meet Archie. You really hoped they would get along.

You were able to find a parking spot close to the bookstore and you gently placed Mao in your arms. The bell to the bookstore rang your arrival and you heard Douxie call that he would be with you in a minute.

You immediately located Archie sunbathing on a chair. “Hey Arch, I want you to meet someone.”

Archie sat up and looked at the fluff ball sleeping in your arms. “Who’s that?” Archie asked, sniffing Mao.

“This is Mao, she’s a stray that I rescued from the Nyarlagroth. I wanted you to meet her.” You gently woke your kitten up, and she looked around confused. Eventually her eyes settled on Archie. She leaned towards him and sniffed a bit before burying herself back into your arms.

“Looks like someone is being shy,” you hummed. Slowly and carefully you turned her so she was facing Archie again.

“Hi little one,” Ariche said, stepping closer to you.

“It’s alright,” you soothed when Mao hesitated to step on the table. She began to slowly but surely gain her confidence though and she put one tiny little paw on the table. Then she put another one on. Now it was just her back paws on you.

You gently stroked her with your other hand and she finally stepped onto the table and hesitantly walked towards Archie, who was standing still so not to scare the kitten.

Mao began to get braver and braver. After she had investigated Archie and deemed him safe, she began to sniff at the rest of the table.

“She’s precious,” Archie mumbled.

“Aww, I’m glad you like her.” You took a seat at one of the chairs and watched as Mao came back to Archie. He nuzzled the kitten and it was so wholesome to watch them interact.

“Oh hey, Y/n,” you heard DOuxie say as he came up behind you.

“Hey Douxie,” you responded, keeping your focus on Mao.

“So, um, did you need anything?” He asked.

“Nope, I just came here to introduce Archie to Mao,” you explained, completely unaware of the jealousy Douxie was beginning to feel.

“Oh, you, uh, picked a name for her?”

“Yep, it took a lot of searching, but I found ‘Mao.’ I just like how soft and smooth the name sounds. I feel like it fits her perfectly!”

“Nuclear,” Douxie said, taking a seat across from you. You kept your focus on the two cats. Mao was gently batting at Archie’s tail while the elder cat just watched. You giggled when she swatted at Archie’s tail a little harsher than before.

“Here, maybe you shouldn’t play with his tail, dear.” You pictured butterfly’s they same way Douxie had taught you in Bulgaria and you waved your hand.

Orange butterflies flew around Mao and she began to play with them, Archie occasionally helping her. You were over the moon with joy at seeing them together. You hadn’t been this happy since Jim had left.

Douxie reached his hand out, hesitantly towards Mao and you nodded, giving him the go ahead. His hand was inches away from Mao when she turned and hissed at him, quickly jumping to hide behind Archie.

“Oh,” Douxie pulled his hand away in shock.

“She’s probably just nervous,” you explained.

Douxie was about to say something, but the bell tolled, signaling the arrival of a customer. Douxie sighed and got up. This struck you as odd and you noticed something different in Douxie’s aura.

You didn’t have much time to ponder on it before you were back to focusing on Mao. She almost rolled off the table after a butterfly. You caught her with magic and she glowed orange. She seemed more curious than scared to be floating. She gently kicked her paws as if testing the air. You moved her to the floor and Archie hopped down with her.

“Can I show her around?” Archie asked and you couldn’t remember when you had last seen him this excited.

You nodded. “Of course.”

You gave them their space as they roamed the store. As more people came in you began to get a little nervous, but Archie took her upstairs and you relaxed. Time passed and you just relaxed. You had been really busy of late with all the babies and with Mao, it was nice to just chill. You picked out a book off a shelf and began to browse through it. You had gotten pretty far in the book by the time you felt Mao nuzzle your leg.

“How was your day?” You cooed, picking her up.

“I’m sure she enjoyed it. It was so much fun to meet her,” Archie said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Good.” Mao yawned and you mimicked her. “I think it’s time to be getting home.”

Standing up, you held Mao in one arm while you put the book away with the other. Douxie was helping out the last customer and you were about to follow the young girl out when Douxie called your name.

“Wait!” He called, jumping out from behind the cash register.

“What?” You asked, yawning again, you hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. “I need to get Mao home.”

Douxie winced. “Er, can’t you stay just a little longer. I haven’t seen you since the Eternal Night.”

“I don’t know Doux, I’m really tired. My mom and Walt-sorry-Strickler, adopted all the changeling babies from the darklands. I haven’t gotten much sleep lately,” you explained.

“Then stay here,” he blurted and you coughed.

“What?”

“I-I mean on the couch,” he clarified, blushing a brilliant shade of pink.

You hesitated, but you realized staying here meant a full night of sleep and you wouldn’t have to drive home while you were so tired.

Douxie seemed to take your hesitation as a no. “I know that you’re busy and I understand that your brother just left, but I...I’ve missed you at the bookstore. You’ve been spending so much time with Mao that I haven’t gotten to see you in a while.”

A realization hit you. “You’re jealous,” you accused, grinning. It was hilarious to your tired mind that he was jealous of a tiny little kitten. You were also very flattered that he cared enough to be jealous.

Douxie looked ready to defend himself, but he decided against it and mumbled, “Maybe.”

“Aww, Douxie’s, I was gonna say yes before your little speech. There’s no way I would pass up an opportunity to sleep through the night.”

“Oh, well then I’ll get you some blankets. I don’t have much food, I have pasta though.”

“I can do something with pasta,” you mumbled, walking up the stairs after Douxie. You went into the apartment and set Mao on the couch and Archie jumped up after her. He cuddled up next to her and you smiled.

You walked into the kitchen and got to work on the pasta. Douxie had some tomatoes and onions so you decided to make some sauce as well.

While you were letting that simmer and boil you helped Douxie make the couch. He went to move Mao, but had woken up. She backed away from him, and you noticed that Douxie looked sad.

“She’ll warm up to you,” you consoled. Exhausted, you plopped down onto it, sitting in the middle. Douxie sat down next to you.

Getting an idea you picked up Moa and scooted closer to Douxie till you were pressed up against him. You carefully set Mao into his lap and for a second she stood there stiffly, but she calmed down as you gently patted her head. Slowly you removed your hand and you had Douxie replace it.  

“She’s really cute,” he said, petting her.

“Thanks I’m glad I was there to save her. Though, neither of us would be there if it wasn’t for you.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

You leaned into Douxie. “Me too.”

****

So this was a very fun and fully little thing to write!!! I hope y'all enjoyed it and are excited for more. Also seriously thank you so much for all the support y'all have given this!! Stay safe and have a fantastic day!!!

Also, this chapter was based off of two wonderful requests:

@almachroma's Yet another great chapter! Might I suggest Mao as the kitten's name? And perhaps a fluff chapter of the kitten and Archie? @demon-trees's Maybe for the half chapter douxie getting a bit jealous of the kitten because they getting along with everyone else but him but the kitten slowly starts to warm up to him but its baby steps. For the name maybe ember, Venus or Mars as a tribute to Aja and Krel? Cause you know space theme

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

P.P.S. I'm totally open for requests on fluffy half chapters! If you have any ideas for the half chapters send them in and I'll do my best to include them.

#douxie x reader #douxie #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #trollhunters imagine #toa #tales of arcadia imagine #wizards imagine #toa douxie #douxie imagine #wizards douxie #wizards #hisirdoux casperan #trollhunters #tr #trollhunters douxie #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia douxie #toa imagine #fire keeper

[mickeymouse-moshpit]

street lights, people

A/N: Hello, kind readers of this fic that I have taken entirely too long to update. I’m so sorry for the wait! And I also have to apologize because there is a whole first part of this that is stored on my computer, which is currently in the mail for repairs. I will post that part as well once it’s back, just please hold on and know that 1) there’s definitely context to being on Fennec’s bike in it and 2) there will be spicy things in the next part. Anyway, uh, if there’s typos I’m very sorry, and enjoy!

Description: Fennec and peds!Reader go on a date

Warnings: Some brief verbal harassment, brief description of dissociating, a little angst if you squint hard enough, Fennec and peds!Reader doing their thing 

Rating: T

Word count: 2.7K

January 24th 

Read part one here

You followed her out and down the lined path, hands sitting in the pockets of your jacket to keep warm. She threaded her arm through yours, and led you down the street to a book shop of all places.

“I remembered you telling me about that new series you wanted to read, something about gay witches? And you’re always talking about how much you want to go to the bookstore but you never do. So, go browse. I want to see what your process looks like.”

“Th—that’s really thoughtful. I don’t know that I really have a true process, but yeah let’s go look!” You opened the door for her, a light going on inside you as you got your first waft of bookstore smell: the paper, the ink. You got the first wave of the noise: the low music playing in the background, the people there talking in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out any conversations happening, could barely hear that there were lyrics in the music. You stopped for a moment, scanning the layout of the room. Your eyes landed first on the display of bookmarks and postcards, making a mental note to get one or two of each to remember this little town so you could find it one day. But then your train of thought halted: could you come here alone?

Best not to dwell.

Your eyes resumed their scanning, noting the different sections. You wandered to the right, letting your gaze drift over the painting beside the door. It was line art of two bodies intertwined, splashed with color to resemble a galaxy where they met. The notecard below it gave the title and artist’s name. And a price. You were struck by how nice it would look on your art wall. But that was for another day.

You started your first pass through the stacks, letting your eyes skate over the spines of the books, pausing to read the note cards when they gave a recommendation from one of the workers. Your fingers started to take on a mind of their own, catching on books here and there, bringing them out for you to investigate. Every couple of them, you would open to the first page, let the author’s words try to entice you. You put most of them back, but a green paperback one with a bent cover stayed behind. You held it close as you continued on, pacing with no purpose at all. If someone didn’t know you, they would think you had a system, but really you were just letting yourself be on autopilot. That is, until you got to the section that housed the series you had read about and wanted.

“This is it!” You hoped your whisper would convey your excitement to Fennec. You had been watching book recommendation videos and this series had come up, promising both a love story and adventure. “I hope th—they do! They’ve got both!”

You plucked both the paperback and hardcover from the shelves, adding them to your little stash. Your small smile would not leave your face.

Fennec watched as you dragged yourself away from the section, mentally patting herself on the back for this idea. You looked so happy, at peace. If she was a part of that? She would consider herself both clever and immensely lucky. As she followed you back to one of the sections you had drifted through, she watched your perusing turn into a hunt. You furrowed your brow as you sank down to kneel and scan for what she wasn’t quite sure. She pulled two more books from the shelf.

“Have you read this one?” She held up a copy of a book called Circe.

“No, but someone at work was talking about it the other day.” She hoped you wouldn’t be disappointed, and wasn’t disappointed when you slid the book back into its place with a mischievous look. Fennec’s mind went straight into the gutter for a moment, imagining you in a very different situation but with the same look.

“Good, you’ll borrow my copy.” There was no arguing, it was a fact. She would.

You stood up again, still holding onto the other book. You were off again, and while she thought you clutching four books to your chest was possibly the cutest thing she had ever seen, you were going to drop one if you kept getting distracted. When you stopped again, she held her hands out.

“Here, let me carry them. You use your hands to browse.”

You nodded once and sank down again, grabbing one of the recommended titles and popping up again. You paused, before setting it on the pile Fennec was holding, warmth building in your face as she gave you one of her smiles.

You set off with one more stop in mind. The waiting room library at your office was lacking in chapter books as of late. You let your feet carry you to the children’s section.

“What are we doing here? I didn’t take you for the Warrior Cats type. “

“The selection of chapter books in my waiting room is looking a little sparse here lately. I want to see what the kids are into so I can update the wishlist.”

Fennec looked at you like you had suddenly turned purple with polka dots and sprouted antennae.

“I have a bookshelf in the waiting room, and I always make it clear to kids and parents that the books on it are meant to be read, cherished, read again, both while waiting and when they go home, with no expectation of return. The Little Golden Books usually do come back, just like most of the other books meant for the teeny-tinies. The chapter books get sparse and don’t tend to come back, but I like it that way. It means I’ve got another reader who gets to learn about the magic of words.”

“But where do the books come from?”

“Well, at first it was just me. There were some parents who made it very clear when I mentioned the shelf that they were perfectly capable of providing their kids with books and how dare I assume otherwise. There were others that you could tell were extremely grateful. There were also a few that had a problem with it but not for any good reason but I’m sure you know what kind of parents I’m getting at.”

She did.

“Then one day I was in the little shop in town and one of the little ones who had started on chapter books saw me and ran up, telling me all about how she had saved her allowance and she was able to get the sequel to the book she had gotten from me. The owner of the shop heard it, and when I went to buy the book I had picked out along with some chapter books for the waiting room, he told me he would let me start a wishlist and he would put it by the register for people to see and maybe buy one or two.”

“Do you usually get what you ask for?”

“It depends on the time of year. During the holidays people get more generous so it’s time to update the list. Hence the reading castle.” You gestured to the structure before you, an alcove that had a castle facade and was filled with still more books. “And the wall of chapter books.”

Before she could formulate a response, you had pulled out your phone and started making a list. Fennec watched you with an emotion she wasn’t sure how to name. The earnest way you took on your task had her pulling out her own phone while you weren’t watching to send a message to the garage group chat. When you had finished, you brushed a hand over her shoulder as you walked by.

You wandered to your last stop: the display at the front. You picked out a pack of bookmarks that were little magnetic trees before turning your attention to the display of postcards. You chose one that was a picture of the gazebo in the middle of town at night, surrounded by twinkle lights with “wish you were here” in small text at the bottom.

You walked up to the register and Fennec plopped your pile of finds on the counter.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The older salesperson behind the register had half a smirk on his face as he queried you. “I haven’t seen someone quite as methodical as you, even covered the section for children.”

You weren’t sure if the sarcastic tone was real or meant as a lighthearted joke, but either way you felt your cheeks warm again, and not in a good way. You wondered for a moment if the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You felt Fennec’s arm wrap its way around your torso again as the salesperson started ringing up the books.

“Being thorough is one of the best things about her. And this is just me, but I think it would be kind of nice if my kid’s pediatrician knew enough about what their media looked like to be able to talk to them at their level about things other than their health.”

“Oh so she’s a big kid is what you’re saying? What, does she play with dolls, or are toys more for the bedroom?” That definitely wasn’t meant in a kind way.

Fennec’s arm tightened around you before you got the chance to just slip away and out the door, as if she knew that was something you might do.

“I would stop talking about them if I were you.” Her voice was low, had taken on a dangerous edge that matched what others saw in her leather jacket.

He got the hint, hurrying up with the transaction. When the final total came up, you reached into your pocket, not really feeling anything for that moment or registering the number that flashed in your general direction. Before you could get your card liberated, Fennec was already sliding hers into the chip reader. You wanted to protest, wanted to tell her it was too much, but the interaction was a sea witch that had stolen your voice and you could only look on as the books and other small items were wrapped and put into a bag and Fennec was turning you in a circle to get you out of the shop.

You weren’t even aware that your feet had moved until you were in front of her bike and she had distributed the books into the two saddle bags. She faced you and put her hands on your shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

You looked at her, answering her question with the question mark that had seemingly etched itself on your face.

“Hello? Earth to Doc? Are you in there?” She gave your shoulders a little shake, before she wrapped you in her arms. You finally felt like you could take a deep breath again as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, letting the pressure she was providing ground you again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the collar of her sweater.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He should be sorry. If he hadn’t stopped talking, I would have made him sorry.”

“I wanted to stop you from paying, it was too much.”

“No. I wanted to do that, it was the plan from the beginning.”

“Really?” You pulled back slightly, peeking at her, searching her face but not having much luck in the low light.

“Yes really. Now, I had something else planned, do you want to know what it is so you can decide if you still want to do it?”

You considered it, but the phantom hollow in your chest and the way your arms and legs still didn’t feel like they belonged to you gave you your answer.

“I want to know, but not yet. Keep it secret, show me next time. I’ve got my own idea though. Will you take me home? I want to show you the Books.”

***

You didn’t want to let go of her, but you needed to if you were going to go inside where it was warm. So you did. When she had taken the books out and put them back in their bag, you headed for the three steps that led up to the door of your half of the duplex. You unlocked the door, nearly dropping the keys because your hands were so cold. You caught them before Fennec could tease you about it.

You clicked on the light in the entryway, lighting the way as she took a few steps inside again. You took the bag from her, and nodded to your left. Behind the stairs to the loft, there was a doorway. You walked through it and to the right, knowing the room in the darkness. You stepped on the clicker for the floor lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. You walked over to the electric fireplace that added some extra heat to the room, switching it on.

You went back to where she was standing in the doorway, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. You took them in yours and brought her in.

Her eyes widened as she took in the space.

The room screamed comfort. All four walls were covered by bookshelves that reached the ceiling, with two interruptions. The first was around the fireplace, if you could even call it that. There was a painting in front of it, but her eyes were too busy wandering to take it in just yet. Her gaze drifted to the window, where either you or the previous owners had built a seat large and plush enough to recline in. While that should have been the star of the room, it wasn’t.

In front of the fireplace was a massive sectional sofa. She was sure it had to have a pull out option you were taking advantage of because it looked more like a bed-sofa hybrid with the way the middle was seemingly filled to the brim with throw pillows and faux-fur blankets.

You stood watching her take it in, as she eventually started looking at the books lining the shelves, punctuated by the odd piece of memorabilia. There was such a variety, all alphabetized, with the only delineation by genre she could see being poetry and prose. As she browsed, you placed your books on the window seat, and from under it produced two stamps: one to mark the books as yours, and one to put a place for people who borrowed them to sign. Others always asked if it was to make sure they came back, but you always replied with no, it was to make sure people could see if they had borrowed them before. You put the books onto the rolling cart that already had a small pile to be put away. Some of them were new, some you had reread and needed to return.

Task complete, you perched on the back of the couch to watch her.

“I should start referring to you as a dragon. You’ve got quite the hoard, baby.” Her words were quiet, wrapped with kindness. “It’s impressive. Thank you for showing me this part of you.”

“I just really like them.” Your smile was growing as she got closer to you. You stood and wrapped yourself around her again. “Does that make you the maiden in need of rescue?”

“Oh, no, you can keep me here as long as you want. Besides, don’t you know the dragon needs saving too sometimes?”

“In that case…” You paused, stealing yourself. “Would you stay a while? I can make tea, we can read, if you’re okay with you could do that pressure thing again?”

“You mean will I hold you close, let you hide your face in my neck for a minute again? Let you whisper things you don’t think I’ll hear but I will anyway?”

You nodded once.

“In that case, I’ll do ‘that pressure thing’ for as long as you need me to. But you have to let me try out this couch nest thing because it looks amazing.”

“Of course, but the first rule of the dragon’s lair is this: no jackets.”

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

More author’s notes: if you’re curious about what series peds!Reader was looking for, it’s These Witches Don’t Burn and its sequel by Isabel Sterling. She wants Fennec to read Circe by Madeline Miller, and she bought The Song of Achilles, also by Madeline Miller

Tagging: @phoenixhalliwell @promiscuoussatan @maybege @jangofctts 

#street lights people #Fennec Shand x reader #fennec shand #biker!Fennec #biker au #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfic #wlw #the mandalorian fanfiction #Star Wars au

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 5

Missed Gestures

It was a picture perfect day by Ron’s standards. He’d returned to the flat and made breakfast for them as Hermione still slept. They’d gotten ready and went out to explore the area. He showed her the walking trail on the park he’d taken that morning, and then they’d made their way to the street Hermione had found the cafe on the previous day. There were several shops that lined the road, and they took their time walking through each one that interested them. Hermione bought a few cat toys for Crookshanks in one of the touristy pet stores they’d found, and they walked further down where they turned onto a bustling street. 

They stumbled across the Melbourne Museum, and Hermione looked at Ron with excitement that he couldn’t remember seeing on her face in a long time. He nodded to her, indicating they should go in. So they paid their fees and entered the museum. Ron couldn’t deny how incredible it was to walk into the various exhibit halls, watching Hermione examine every exhibit, artifact and portrait, skimming the descriptions and learning the history behind them. 

Three hours later, Ron’s stomach grumbled rather loudly, though they’d only gotten through about half the rooms. Hermione checked her watch and looked at Ron, “We should probably go and get some lunch.”

“Are you sure? I know you wanted to see everything here,” Ron said.

“We can always come back, can’t we? Plus, I wanted to check out that bookstore we passed.”

“That’s true. Why don’t we go back to that cafe you got breakfast from yesterday, and then you can check out the bookstore.”

“That sounds good to me,” Hermione said with a smile as they made their way to the exit. 

The sun was warm on their faces as they walked back and stopped at the cafe. They ordered their sandwiches and sat outside at one of the tables while they waited for their food to be ready. 

“So, how much are you planning on telling your parents tonight?” Ron knew he needed to start the conversation. 

“I feel like I owe them everything,” Hermione said. “What do you think?”

“They’re not my parents, Hermione. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re right.” Ron agreed. “I know it’ll be hard, but maybe if we made a plan, you’d feel better about going through the story.”

Hermione nodded slowly as the server came out with their meals. They smiled politely and said thank you as Ron waited for Hermione to respond. “That’s a good idea, actually. They know about Cedric’s death and what happened to Harry at the end of fourth year. I think that’s why they let me go with your family to Grimmauld Place for the majority of the summer. They assumed it’d be safer for me there if Voldemort did try and make his move.”

“What about fifth year? The Department of Mysteries?” Ron continued.

“I wanted to write to them about how evil Umbridge was, but knew I couldn’t when we found out she was checking our mail. I gave them a brief idea of everything that had happened, and then with your Dad being attacked, and they were the ones who told me to go to you. They drove me to London and dropped me off. I was finally able to tell them about everything that summer, but when I talked about the Department of Mysteries, I only made it sound like the Order was there fighting when I explained Sirius’ death. They don’t know we were there…”

“Okay, so you start there and clear that up,” Ron said. “Sixth year?”

“Well, they knew about your poisoning and Dumbledore’s death, so I guess there’s nothing there really aside from the horcruxes, but that ties into this past year more than anything.”

Ron nodded. Not that the whole Lavender debacle related to the story, but he was relieved Hermione didn’t mention it. Even if he was sure her parents knew all about it. “So then, it’ll basically be from the point where you altered their memories to now.”

“Yes. I suppose we should explain the mission and what we were after..” Hermione was thinking.

“Should we start with the attack on Bill and Fleur’s wedding?” Ron asked between bites of his sandwich.

Hermione played with her soup. “Yes, probably, and explain how we got to Grimmauld Place and gathered the first lead. We’ll probably need to explain the Ministry break in, and the disaster of the Godric’s Hollow trip.” She looked up at him. “I won’t tell them that you left. They don’t need to know that.”

Ron felt the tightness release ever so slightly, knowing that she didn’t want to tell them of his abandon. “Er, thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“It wasn’t you. I know that deep down,” Hermione admitted.

Ron looked at her gratefully. He wanted to talk about that, but it was a conversation for another day. “So then I suppose that brings us to the Lovegood visit and, er..”

“Malfoy Manor,” Hermione finished.

“How much are you going to say?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. They’ll need to know about the Cruciatus, and..and what Bellatrix was after to have done what she did.” Hermione couldn’t look at Ron. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. This was something even they hadn’t breached. He knew she thought they’d stolen the sword, but Hermione hadn’t been ready to talk about the experience beyond that, and he’d never pushed her. 

“I think it’s time I should. They deserve to know. You do as well.”

“Only if you want to, Hermione,” Ron reassured her.

“I will. I’ve made my decision. But I don’t want them to know about her offering me to Greyback, or how long the recovery took.”

“Noted. So then we go into Gringotts and the battle, yeah?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it seems as though it will be a quick story,” Hermione said with a chuckle.

“Think of it this way, we’ve got a plan now,” Ron said as they finished their meals. “I reckon you’ve got enough time to head to the bookstore for a bit before we have to get ready to head over to your parents.”

“You’re right. Do you want to just meet me back at the flat? I don’t want you to feel like you have to follow me around the store,” Hermione suggested.

“If that’s what you want to do. Just make sure you’re back by 3:30, or I’ll have to come find you,” Ron told her through a smirk as she nodded and they stood up from the table. 

He watched her go down the street before turning in the opposite direction to head towards the flat. He walked by a now open flower shop that had been closed that morning, and walked in. So far, the date she hadn’t known he’d taken her on had gone off well, but he wanted to get her something to make it seem like just a day out exploring the city. 

“Good day to you!” The florist greeted him. “What brings you in on this fine day?”

“Er, hello. I was just looking for some flowers, for, er, a friend,” Ron said awkwardly as he eyed the display of roses.

“Ah, well you’ve come to the right place! Is this friend a true friend, or more than?” he asked.

“Best friend, but hopefully ‘more than’ soon,” Ron said honestly.

“Ah, young love! Such a wonderful thing,” the florist said happily. He noticed Ron eyeing the various colored roses. “Roses would be a perfect choice for you. Did you know that the different colors have different meanings?”

Ron stared at the shopkeeper. “They do? Of course they do, nothing is ever an easy decision..” he muttered to himself.

“They do indeed. I can give you an explanation if that would help you to make your decision.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, red of course signifies love, and white represents innocence and loyalty, and some even say hope or a shared secret. The other two common colors are pink and yellow. Pink is another common color that represents admiration, grace or joy, and yellow stands for happiness, friendship and new beginnings.”

“What about these purple ones, here?” Ron asked him, taking in what he’d said.

“Oh, the purple ones typically stand for enchantment, mystery, and love at first sight.”

Ron nodded as he thought about the different colors and their meanings. He was thinking he wanted a mixture of the white, red, yellow and purple. But he liked the pink, too. All the colors really represented them. He just couldn’t decide.

The florist could sense his uncertainty. “You know, there’s a special rose color combination I can make for you if you think it would fit better. I take the yellow roses and add red tips. It signifies friendship deepening to love.”

That was it, Ron thought. “Could I take six of those, two purple, two pink, and two white to get a bouquet of a dozen?” Ron asked. His heart had started to skip a beat, as the excitement was starting to build.

The shopkeeper smiled knowingly. “Absolutely.” He plucked up six of the yellow, and two of each of his other requested colors. “I’ll be right back after I tip these yellow ones with red and arrange the bouquet for you.” He turned a few minutes later with the flowers wrapped in a beautiful bouquet. He’d even gone so far as to place them in a vase, that he’d boxed up for easier transport.

Ron gladly paid for the flowers. “Thank you so much for your help, today.”

“Of course! Of course! Helping customers like you is part of the reason I do what I do. I wish you the best.” The florist nodded as Ron thanked him again and headed for the door.

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

Ron walked into the flat and set the flowers on the table. He’d decided he should get cleaned up a bit and change into something a bit more presentable for dinner with her parents. His nerves were building as he waited for her to return when she walked in a few minutes past 3:30. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry I’m late! It was only a few minutes!” she apologized as she walked in. Ron came out of the bedroom as Hermione set a rather large bag of books down. She noticed the flowers there. He’d meant to take them out of the box for her, but had forgotten.

“Ron, these are beautiful! Did you get them for my parents? What a brilliant idea!” Hermione gushed.

“Wha- Er, no, I- Hermione, they’re meant to be for-” Ron stuttered as he tried to explain.

“You’re so thoughtful! My parents are going to love them. Though, Mum is more a tulip person herself, but I’ve always loved roses. It’s probably a cliche but they’re my favorite.” Hermione bustled over and hugged him. “I’m going to go change for tonight, and then we can get going. You look really nice, by the way,” Hermione said shyly as she made her way to the bedroom.

Did that really just happen? Ron thought to himself. Did she really think the flowers were meant for her parents? Why couldn’t things just be easy for them? It was always one misunderstanding after another. And he’d tried to tell her they were for her, but she didn’t listen! Now what? He wondered as she came back out. 

She was dressed in a pretty coral colored sundress that she must have bought when she and Ginny had gone shopping a couple weeks ago. Her hair was tied back into a soft bun and it looked like she’d applied a small amount of makeup to her face. Merlin, she was beautiful. 

“Hermione, about the-” Ron tried to explain again.

“Ron, can we talk on the way? I don’t want to be late! Can you carry the flowers? I picked up a couple of books I thought my Mum would like when I was at the bookstore. I’m so nervous, I- What?” Hermione paused as she noticed Ron was staring at him.

“You, er- look really pretty,” Ron managed to say. 

Hermione blushed. “Oh, um, thank you,” she said as she kept herself busy by organizing the books. She put the few she had bought for her parents in the beaded bag. Hermione picked up the flowers and handed them to him. 

Ron tried to choke back the sigh as he followed her out the door. They were halfway to her parent’s house when he realized he should have just insisted they leave them there and go back to the florist for a different bouquet. Or that he should have gotten a second set to begin with.

“They’re a really unique set of colors you picked out,” Hermione said out of nowhere.

“Sorry?” Ron asked.

“The roses. The colorscape is quite unique. In a good way.”

Well, that’s a relief, since they were intended for you, he thought to himself. “Oh, well, I chose them based on the meaning behind their color.”

“Oh, yes, I’d heard that there were certain meanings associated with different colored roses. You’ll have to tell me what they are later.”

They were walking up the drive to her parents house now, so there was no time for it. Mrs. Granger answered the door before they could knock. She embraced her daughter happily when she opened the door and ushered them into the house. They walked into the kitchen when Hermione gestured for Ron to set the flowers on the counter.

“Mum, Ron picked these out at the local florist for you. Aren’t they lovely?” Hermione told her.

“Oh, yes darling, they’re...unique. Interesting color scheme,” she’d said. Mr. Granger had come in and gave Ron a look to which he returned with a defeated one of his own.

“Don’t worry, Mum, I told him you prefer tulips for next time, and that I’ve always been the one partial to roses.” 

“Ah, yes, I do love tulips. Hermione, dear, your father and I ordered Italian takeaway tonight. We thought you’d like to talk to us in a more private setting.”

“Oh, yes, that does sound perfect. Look, Mum I bought these books for you at the bookstore! I thought you might like them,” Hermione said enthusiastically.

“Thank you, dear! These must have just been released! How’d you know I’d want to read them!” Mrs. Granger said appreciatively. 

“Why don’t we go sit down in the living room?” Mr. Granger interrupted. “I don’t have to pick up the food for another half hour or so. Maybe Hermione can start a bit of her story before I have to leave.”

And so they all moved into the living room, where Hermione began telling them the truth about what happened between fifth and sixth year. She’d approached the point where she needed to tell them why she’d done what she had. 

“I know it wasn’t fair to alter your memories without your consent, but it was the only way. If you’d known, and they’d somehow managed to find you...I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. And I thought you’d have been happier not knowing you had a daughter if I...if I…” tears pooled in Hermione’s eyes as Ron moved to comfort her. 

But Mrs. Granger moved quickly to her side and put her arms around her daughter, stopping Ron in his efforts. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You are still here, and that’s what matters. We remember you, and you survived. Sweet girl, you’re still here,” Mrs. Granger pressed a hard kiss to her temple.

Mr. Granger checked his watch. “It’s about that time...Ron, would you like to join me while I go pick up the food?”

“Er, sure,” Ron said as he got up to follow Mr. Granger.

He got into the passenger seat of the car as Mr. Granger started it. “Try not to mind Jean too much. She’s a bit emotional over the whole ordeal. She’s not intentionally being cold or rude to you,” he’d said as he pulled out of the driveway onto the road.

“I didn’t notice anything. Besides, it’s understandable,” Ron said.

“Were the flowers really meant for us?” Mr. Granger asked.

“I got them for Hermione. She walked in from the bookstore and saw them there and assumed they were to bring with us. I tried to explain it to her, but she just carried on and didn’t stop to listen,” Ron admitted, the words pouring out of him before he could stop.

Mr. Granger let out a full hearted laugh. “That certainly sounds like Hermione alright. What do you say we stop at the florist and get a tulip arrangement for Jean? I know for a fact the florist doesn’t close until 6.”

“Really? That’d be fantastic. Not that I’ll know how to or when to tell Hermione the roses were for her.”

“I’ll help you work in an opening.” He pulled over in front of the shop as they went in to pick out a colorful array of tulips to bring back to Mrs. Granger. Ron paid for the second bouquet as the florist gave him a knowing smile, and they continued on to pick up dinner from the restaurant.

“So what did you two do today?” Mr. Granger asked Ron.

“It was actually quite busy.” Ron went into detail about their day, as Mr. Granger smiled at his efforts. They had to pause as they ran in to pick up and pay for the family style meal they’d ordered, and when they were on their way back to the house Mr. Granger picked up where they left off.

“Sounds like a perfect day for Hermione to me,” he’d told Ron. “Though, it sounds like you’ll have to be a bit more obvious. I wouldn’t fear the rejection so much. She very clearly cares about you, too.”

“I hope so.”

“Have faith, Ron.” Mr. Granger said as they pulled back into the driveway. Ron carried the flowers as Mr. Granger grabbed the food and re-entered the house. “We’re home, dear!” Mr. Granger called as they made their way back into the kitchen. 

“What’s this?” Mrs. Granger asked as Ron set the tulips down on the counter. 

“Ron wanted to get you tulips instead, Jean,” Mr. Granger explained for Ron.

“Oh! They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to, though,” Mrs. Granger said as her face finally softened toward him. Ron’s own felt hot as his ears tinged pink. Hermione had given him a confused look, but didn’t question it.

Dinner was a quiet affair compared to the Burrow. Hermione’s parents filled her in on their life in Australia and what they missed about England. They said they were excited to return home to England, and Hermione had assured them that she’d taken precautionary measures to keep their dental practice intact, and their home would still be waiting for them. Bill had offered to check the house to make sure there were no lingering traces of Dark magic. 

“We’ll probably have to wait until July or August to return,” they were explaining. Their lease on the condo wouldn’t be up until then, and it was close enough that it didn’t seem worth it to try and sublet.

Ron helped Mrs. Granger clear the plates and clean up before she prepared tea. She finally rejoined them and urged Hermione to continue the story. So Hermione and Ron took turns describing the events that happened from Bill and Fleur’s wedding until the battle. They’d skipped Malfoy Manor to start with.

“So he’s gone then?” Mr. Granger had asked.

“Yes. There are still some of his followers at large, but the Ministry is working hard to catch them all,” Ron explained.

“But what happened at Malfoy Manor?” Mrs. Granger wanted to know.

Hermione took a deep breath. “We were captured because Voldemort’s name was Taboo. The snatchers appeared and our wards were broken. They took us to Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix wanted to question me because of what she found in my bag.”

“What was-” Mrs. Granger started to ask.

“The sword. She lost it, Mum. Thought I’d stolen it out of her vault at Gringotts, which is why we knew to check there for another Horcrux. She ordered Ron and Harry to be taken to the dungeon in the cellar and then she dragged me by my hair to the center of the room. She used the Cruciatus on me to try and get information. I was being honest about the sword. I wasn’t there when Harry and Ron had found it. But she didn’t believe me and the pain kept coming. It was unbearable. I- I really thought that was going to be it. But I heard Ron calling for me, and- It was enough to help me hold on.

“I’m not sure what happened after a while. I think I must have lost consciousness. Apparently a chandelier fell on me, and I have this scar on my neck, but I don’t remember there ever being anything against my throat. I only remember waking up at Shell Cottage.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You’re so strong. So strong,” Mr. Granger had said. “How did you end up safe?” 

“Harry and Ron had somehow called Dobby, a little house elf. He helped free the other prisoners. He also dropped the chandelier as a distraction, he didn’t mean for it to land on me, I’m sure. But it was enough for Ron to get me out of there.” Hermione looked at him gratefully.

“But why didn’t this woman believe you about the sword?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“She was evil, Mum. She’s dead now. Mrs. Weasley got her in the battle at Hogwarts. She couldn’t understand that there was magic in the sword to allow it to appear to any worthy Gryffindor, and I wasn’t going to tell her that. She couldn’t know. I had to protect us.”

“But still, honey, why didn’t you know about the sword? You knew about everything else?”

“I was sleeping when Harry found it. It was lucky that Ron came back and found him. Otherwise, he would have been-” Hermione froze. She looked at Ron. She said she wasn’t going to say anything about him leaving, but she’d just…

“Hermione-” Ron started.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. She looked horrified.

“What do you mean Ron came back. Wasn’t he with you the whole time?” Mrs. Granger shot a look at him.

“He- He was. He got injured, Mum. The splinching. There was no-”

“It’s okay, Hermione.” Ron cut her off. He might as well own up to it. “Yes, Mrs. Granger. I left. It was the worst mistake of my life. We promised we’d see Harry through with this together, but I couldn’t take the Horcrux whispering to me anymore. Telling me I was useless and not needed or wanted. Harry and I got in a huge row, and I walked out. I’m not proud of it, and I did everything I could to get back to them. And I did, eventually.”

Mrs. Granger stared at him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He hoped that Mr. Granger could at least understand. “Hermione, I think you should stay here tonight.”

“But, Mum-” Hermione tried to say.

“No, darling, it’s been eleven months since we’ve seen you. You’ve spent so much time away since you were eleven! At least give us this, stay with us! You have a place here.”

“But what about-”

Ron knew when he’d been defeated. He wasn’t going to win against Mrs. Granger, and he didn’t want to further the wedge between her and her parents. “I’ll be fine, Hermione. You stay.” Ron got up. “You know where to find me. I’ll stay for a couple days, but if you want me to leave, I’ll contact the ministry and arrange for travel back to England.” 

Nothing about this trip was turning out the way he was hoping. Maybe they weren’t meant to be after all.

“Ron, I-” But Hermione didn’t know what to say. 

“For the record, I’m not leaving you. Not this time. You know where to find me,” he said quietly. He promised her he’d never leave her again, and he wasn’t leaving her. Not really. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Ron turned and walked to the door, and headed back to the flat.

#romione #hp post war #hp australia #slow burn

[ruthoakenshield]

The Lady in Black Leather (Ch 13)

Catch up here: [Chapter 12]

Richard x reader

Warning: (18+ only!!!) Explicit descriptions of smut, fluff and lovemaking.

You shut off the shower and wring out your hair. You open the door to find two fluffy towels sitting on the counter for you. You grab one and turn with your back to the door, you bend over and pull your hair over the top of your head so you can dry it with the towel.

 Richard glances over and sees you and is immediately hard. He groans at how enticing you are and comes over to stand behind you.

 He grasps your hips and runs his hands up and down your back, enjoying being able to feel how soft your skin is. Then he reaches around to cup your breasts that are hanging down like lovely teardrops. He drops his towel and starts to grind against you, making you chuckle.

  “Couldn’t resist the view?” you ask, giggling. He leans over you and whispers into your ear, “How could I when you are such a temptress, you have me under your spell, my Sweet.”

 You shake you head, chuckling and get your hair wrapped in the towel. He pulls you to stand and turns you towards the counter. He takes the towel from off the counter and places it on the edge and leans you over the counter. He leans over you and asks, “Ready for round two?” then nibbles on your neck.

 “I’m always ready for you, Rich. You can have me every day for the rest of our lives if you like.” You reply. You feel him put his head between your shoulder blades and groan.

 “God, Woman! You sure know what to say to get me picturin’ dirty things!” he tells you as he reaches around and begins to play with your clit. You drop your head to the counter and moan, “Oh God, Rich!”

 He grins. “Do you like it, my Sweet, or shall I stop and go get dressed?” he teases.

 You shake your head unable to form coherent sentences.

 You feel him at your entrance and then he starts to pepper your back with kisses and he enters you with a single thrust and a grunt. He takes your hips in his hands and starts to thrust, slowly at first, then faster. The two of you chasing that pleasure, and you begin to match his thrusts and reach back to grab his ass. He groans and starts to thrust erratically and feels you start to come.

 You groan and squeeze his ass as you come, and he thrusts into you once more then comes with a growl and collapses on top of you. He wraps his arms around your waist as he regains his senses and caresses your front. He pulls you to stand and holds you as the two of you look at yourselves in the mirror. Faces flushed, eyes dilated, your towel had fallen off your head and your long, damp hair is hanging over your shoulders covering Rich’s hands which cup your breasts.

 You grin seeing the satisfied look on his face like a cat that got into the milk canister. He grins down at you and kisses the top of your head which he tucks under his chin. He gives your breasts a gentle squeeze then carefully removes himself and grabs a washcloth and wets it in the sink. He gently cleans you off and then hands you the towel to wrap up in.

 Rich tosses the washcloth into the hamper and then ushers you into the bedroom. “Rich, can you go get my messenger bag from downstairs? I need some of the stuff that is in it.” You ask him.

 He nods, grabs his housecoat and puts it on. He heads down to the living room and grabs it, then sees both of your phones blinking from messages.

 He grabs his, sees it’s almost 10am and sees Aiden has called multiple times this morning and texted. He opens the texts and sees what it says, his eyes get huge. He grabs your phone and tries to check it, but you have it locked. He grabs your messenger bag and the phones and bolts back upstairs.

 Richard comes rushing into the bedroom and you look up and see something is wrong. “What is it Rich? What’s the matter?” you ask.

He hands you your phone and says, “Check your messages!” and puts the messenger bag on the bed then quickly tosses off the robe and starts digging for clothes to put on.

 You take the phone and unlock it with your finger. You gasp when you see that Alex, Aiden and Scarlett have all called you this morning and texted you multiple times. You look up at Richard, worried. He is scrambling to get into his boxers and has a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt on the bed.

 You read the texts and your eyes fill with tears. “Harley, someone set fire to your apartment last night and this morning someone attacked Todd at the bookstore and shot him! Hurry and get to the hospital when you get this!” said the one from Scarlett.

 You hand the phone to Rich and he nods, “Aiden sent me something similar.” He tells you. Hurry now, get ready and we’ll have to pick up breakfast on the go.” He tells you.

 “Rich, call and see if Graham knows.” You tell him. He nods and once he is dressed, he calls Graham.

 You sit there stunned for a moment and then look around for your underwear. You can’t find them and look up at Rich, who has a smug smile on his face and has them hanging off his finger.

You get up to take them from him and he grins and shoves them in his pants pocket and refuses to let you have them.

 When Graham picks up, you wait till Rich is distracted talking to him and you shove your hand into his pocket and snatch your underwear out. He glares at you and you smirk and put them on. He walks over and gives your bare rear a smack when you bend to pick up your leather pants.

 Squeaking in surprise from the sting of his hand on your rear, you rub your ass and then seductively pull on your leather pants. He watches, grinning. You quickly look around for your top and can’t find it. You grin and go over to his dresser and pull open the drawer that he took the shirt out from last night. You dig around and don’t see any black shirts, but there is a grey one, so you shrug and grab it and pull it on.

 Richard’s eyes get huge when he realizes you’re gonna wear one of his shirts today. You look around for your corset, then remember you left it downstairs, and then pull on your socks.

 You grab your messenger bag and dump it out on the bed. You pull the hair oil out and put some in your hands and massage it into your hair like the stylist showed you. Then you take the comb and gently comb your hair, working out the snarls and kinks. You grab your deodorant and put it on, then decide to put your hair up in a renaissance bun.

 You section off the hair around the perimeter of your head leaving 1” worth and take the rest and wrap it around your hand and then around itself until you run out of hair. You fold the piece that you wrapped around your hand over the hair you wound around itself and pushed the wad through the center of the loop. Securing it with hair pins, you then start at the back of your head, taking two small sections, twisting them once you add a small section to the bottom bunch with each twist, working your way all the way around your head until you were back where you started.

 You secured it with an elastic hair band and then braided the remaining length into a five-strand braid. You fished it through the loop where you started and pinned it so it wouldn’t come loose.

 Richard talked with Graham while you got ready, amazed at what you were able to do with your hair.

 Graham filled Rich in that Scarlett had called him when they couldn’t get ahold of either of you. He told Rich he was about ready to come over and pound on the door if he wouldn’t have called when he did. “What the hell were you two doing that you didn’t have yer phones?” Graham asked.

 “We were upstairs sleeping, Graham. It was a late night of movies and cuddles and the phones got left downstairs on the coffee table.” He tells him truthfully.

 “Mmmmhmmm.” Graham grumbles. Well get yer asses over here. Everyone is at the hospital except Alex, who is dealing with the fire and the firefighters.” He tells Richard. I already called Mark and told him we’d be over later on for the lessons.” He reminds Rich.

 “See you soon, Graham.” Rich says and hangs up.

 He glances at you and you get up and head to the bathroom to put on makeup, then decide not to wear any today. “I don’t want to look like a raccoon from crying, cuz I know I will be crying.” You tell him.

 “Rich, where’s my choker necklace?” you ask. He grins and pulls the necklace out of his sweatpants pocket from last night. “I didn’t want it to get lost. My couch tends to eat things that fall on it. Last time it was Martin’s wallet.” He giggles.

 You grin. He comes and stands behind you and brings the necklace in front of you and drapes it onto your collar bone, then wraps it around your neck and clasps it in back. “It’s a beautiful necklace, where did you get it?” he asks.

 “My Dad gave it to me for my 40th birthday along with these earrings. They are real sapphires and not synthetic.” You explain. “Pops had been saving for them since I was 18 and he finally had enough to get the stone on my choker and my earrings. He had the jeweler make them into earrings and he knew I liked that choker necklace since I have another one like it with fake rubies.

 So, he had Mom make one for me and he brought it to the jeweler who mounted the stone in a setting and then sewed it onto the center of the choker.” You say as you caress it.

 Richard hugs you from behind. “Well, it’s lovely on you. Now, your corset is downstairs as are your boots and coat. We need to get going, Love. Everyone is waiting for us at the hospital.” He tells you.

 You nod and pack everything up back in your messenger bag. You grab your toothbrush and toothpaste and go brush your teeth as Richard does the same and runs a brush through his hair.

 You toss your toothbrush and paste into your messenger bag and then head downstairs with it. Sitting down on the second step from the bottom, you pull on your boots and zip them up, then grab your corset and put it on.

You lean forward and hook the hooks then adjust your girls. Standing up, you reach back for the loops, but Richard is already there, starting to tug on them and helps you position the center panel. He gets you cinched into your corset and tucks the laces in. You turn and he grins now that you’re taller in your boots and he doesn’t have to bend down so far to kiss you. He gives you a quick kiss and then grabs your coat.

 He helps you into the coat, grabs his and puts it on, then the two of you are out the door and heading for breakfast and the hospital.

 Richard stopped at a fast food place and got you both breakfast sandwiches and crispy tater rounds and orange juice for you. He then stopped and got a coffee from a drive through vendor he liked for himself then headed for the hospital.

 You both arrived and met everyone in the waiting room. Scarlett, Aiden and Graham were there along with several officers who knew the two Sand brothers.

 Graham sat you down and told you to eat first before you did anything else. You nod and pull out the food Richard bought you.

 Graham took Richard out into the hall and told him how bad Todd had been hurt. “I found him this morning around 7:30am when I went for a coffee before heading into work. He had been shot in the back a couple times, and his face and sides beaten pretty bad.

 Looked like they kicked him when he was down. He’s unconscious and lost a lot of blood. They think he’ll survive, but he’s pretty badly beaten, Rich. He won’t be able to have the shop open for at least a month or more.”

 Richard rubs his face and groans. “Rich, it was a good thing he made Harley take the day off. Remember, she was supposed to work today! Had she been there she would have ended up the same way!” Graham tells him.

 He sees Richard’s face go white and his knees buckle. Graham caught him and slid him down the wall till he was sitting on the floor.

 “Oh, God, Graham! I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if she was there!” Richard gets out. “Do they know who did this?” he asks Graham.

 “Not yet, they’re reviewing the surveillance footage right now. I have a funny feeling though it’s either Harley’s ex or one of his lackeys.” Graham replies. “You gonna be okay, Rich?” he asks.

 Richard sighs and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know Graham. Harley and I are finally making progress and she is finally starting to relax and come out of her shell and feels safe allowing me to get closer and cuddle her. I am worried this will set her back again!” he tells Graham.

 “Rich, you gotta tell her what happened. She deserves to know the truth. They torched her old apartment last night too. Someone threw a brick through the windows and then a lit maltov cocktail, chucking it in as well and started the living room on fire. It spread quickly and the whole building is a loss. Displaced three other families.” He told Rich.

 “Apparently they didn’t realize she had been moved out of the apartment!” he tells Rich. “We’re lucky those cops moved her when they did, or she would’ve lost all her belongings that weren’t in those suitcases she packed!” Graham says quietly.

 “Alex set up a permanent officer to watch her new apartment to make sure there’s no incidents there. And said they will have to hold off on moving her in until these guys are caught. I already told him I’ll cover the rent since she won’t be able to work till Todd is back on his feet. Lee is heading there to pay the pet deposit this morning.

 It’s a good thing she spent the night with you last night. Aiden and Scarlett were at Lee’s for a party and they didn’t leave there till dawn. Came home to find Officer Sand in the entry waiting to talk to them since he couldn’t get ahold of you or Harley. He told them what happened and asked them to let you two know.” Graham tells Rich. “They called me, and I was already here with the cops waiting to find out if Todd made it.”

 Rich nods. “They tried calling and left texts, but we didn’t see them till I came downstairs this morning and saw the phones blinking on the coffee table.” He rubs his face and slowly goes to stand. Graham helps him up and Richard leans against the wall rubbing his face.

 “What are we gonna do Graham. You and I have to work. Aiden and Scarlett can’t protect her, and she isn’t gonna agree to stay in one place alone!” he says frustrated.

 Graham thinks for a minute then smiles. “She can hang out with Scarlett at the studios. Aiden brings her with him every day he’s filming that other film the studio is working on trying to finish for the July release.

 There’s plenty of places they can wander around on the property and they are safe cuz no one gets in unless the gate guards allow it. They already know what is going on and are being more selective now anyway.

 All of a sudden Richard hears a phone ringing on the other side of the wall, then a few moments later he and Graham hear you cry out “NO!!!” and they look at each other and bolt into the waiting room.

 Scarlett is sitting next to you, and Aiden is on the other side. You’re phone is on the floor an the officers are squatting around you trying to get out of you what just happened. Rich and Gram see you’re having a panic attack and are crying.

 One officer picks up your phone and sees you had a call. He brings up the call log and pulls out his notepad. He sets the phone down on a seat and writes down the phone number of the last caller, the time of the call and the length of the call.

 Richard rushes over to you and Aiden moves out of the way so Richard can sit by you. “Sweetheart, tell us what just happened.”

You are having a panic attack, trembling and crying and cling to him. You can’t talk you’re so upset. He wraps his arms protectively around you and looks up at Graham, who shrugs and walks over to the officer who picked up your phone.

 “What happened?” he asks the officer.

 “She was sitting there eating, and her phone rang. She answered it and then just screamed ‘No!’ and dropped the phone like it was on fire and she just went into a panic attack. She won’t talk and just sat there shaking and trembling and crying.” He explained.

 Richard picks you up and carries you to a smaller waiting room down the hall that is empty and sits down with you in his lap. He shushes you and caresses your face.

 You finally start to calm, and he murmurs to you that you’re safe and begs you to tell him what happened.

 “It was him, my ex!” you cry. “He said ‘I warned you to stay away from him and you didn’t. Now your apartment is burned, as are your belongings, and your boss is dead, your lover and friends are next!’.” You tell him and start bawling again. Richard holds you closely and is now truly unnerved and pissed.

 “Sweetheart, your boss isn’t dead, he is severely injured and badly bruised, but is still alive. The apartment that was torched, was your old one, not the new one. Your belongings are still safe in the moving truck, the arsonist didn’t realize the cops had emptied your old apartment out. As far as them getting me, and our friends, we will talk with Alex and let him know; and see what he suggests, OK?” he tells you as you calm down a little. “I’m still here, Sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He tells you.

 “Now, if we get you some paper, will you write down what you just told me, and we’ll give it to the officers to deal with?” he asks you. You sniffle and nod.

 “Will you hold me a little longer, Rich? I’m really scared.” You say. “Innocent people are being hurt cuz he is after me. I don’t want anyone else hurt or lose their homes because of me.” You tell him.

 “Honey, you have no control over what he does. It’s not your fault that any of this is happening. The blame lies squarely on your ex and his insanity. These are guerrilla tactics he is using to scare and intimidate you. He knows he can’t approach you directly cuz of the restraining order, so he is attacking those around you to get at you indirectly. Like in the game of chess.

 What he doesn’t realize is that he is out matched and outnumbered. It’s a matter of time before he screws up and is caught.” He tells you. “And when he does, he will never be able to hurt you again.”

 You nod and press against Richard’s chest, wishing you could just hide away somewhere with him till this is all over.

 “Come on now, Love. Let’s put on our brave face and deal with this new development.” He says gently. “Graham, Scarlett, Aid and I are all here with you and so are four cops in the waiting room.” He tells you. “You aren’t in this alone.” He assures you.

 You nod. “Ok. Rich. Just stay right with me please?” you ask. He lifts your hand and kisses it. “I will be right here by your side, Love.” He tells you.

 You climb off his lap and he stands, takes your hand and leads you back into the larger waiting room. He leads you back to your seat and the officer with your phone comes over and squats down.

 “Miss, the last call you received, do you recognize the number as belonging to anyone you know?” he asks as he pulls up your call log and shows you the phone number the call came from.

 You frown. “Do you have it written down?” you ask him as you look up at him. He nods.

 Taking the phone, you go into your contact list and pull up your ex’s information. You had put a note on his contact when he changed his phone number last time. You noted what the old number was just in case it ever got activated again. It was the old number!

 You showed the officer the note on the contact information. He asked if he could take a photo of it with his phone to send to Alex. You nodded and he did so, then sent a photo of the call ledger.

 “Miss, can you tell us what was said that upset you so much?” he asks.

 You ask him for his notepad and pen. He hands them to you, and you write down: “My ex was the one who just called. He said, ‘I warned you to stay away from him (Richard) and you didn’t. Now your apartment is burned, as are your belongings, and your boss is dead, your lover and friends are next!’”

 You hand him the notepad and his eyes get huge when he reads it. You show him the restraining order and he grins.

 “Well your ex just fucked up, Miss. That call and threat was a direct violation of the restraining order and now we can arrest him on sight. We have 6 witnesses who saw what happened and your reaction to it.” He tells you. “Will you sign your name and write the date and time down on this statement so I can send a picture of it to Alex?”

 You nod and sign, date and time stamp the note. The officer takes a picture of it and sends it to Alex who immediately calls back and asks to talk to you.

 “Harley?” Alex asks when you are handed the phone and say hello. “Yeah, Alex, it’s me.” You reply.

 “Sweetheart, your old apartment was torched. The entire building is a total loss and displaced three families living there. Someone intentionally burned it to the ground, but your stuff is still safe at the precinct’s storage facility. The guards there have been warned what is going on and have extra patrols guarding it. Todd is still alive, very badly beaten, but he IS alive. It’ll be a month or more before he can work though. Ok?” he tells you.

 “Ok. Alex.” You say sadly. “I’m SO sorry your brother got hurt. I feel terrible!” you apologize.

 “Honey, it’s NOT your fault. Do not feel bad. Todd knew the risk when he hired you. He’s gonna be all right. You should’ve seen him when the semi hit him on the side of the highway last year when he pulled a guy over for a DUI! He was much worse off than he is now. He will recover and be as good as new! Now, I want you to do something for me okay?” he asks.

 “What do you want me to do Alex?” you ask.

 “Sweetheart, I want you, your friends and Richard to go and finish the training with Phantom right away, and I don’t want you leaving there until you have him with you. I talked to Mark already and he knows what is going on. He will be waiting for you to come and finish the training ASAP. He says Phantom has been whining for you all morning.” He tells you. “There isn’t anything more we can do for Todd right now, so go and take your friends and please go finish the training and keep Phantom right with you!” he says.

 “All right Alex. I’ll go and do that.” You tell him.

 “Good, Sweetheart. We’ll find your ex now that he has violated the restraining order and contacted you, it’s a matter of time before we catch him and lock him away.”

 “Ok Alex, I’ll tell them.” You say.

 “I gotta go now, Sweetheart, do as I instructed and be safe. I’ll be in touch, and keep your phone on you at all times, honey! I need to be able to reach right away until this is all over.” He reminds you.

 “Ok, Alex. I will. Bye.” You say and hang up.

 Rich was standing right next to you and heard everything. You look up at him worried and he nods. You hand the officer the phone back and thank him.

 He nods and tells you to be safe and if there’s any changes with Todd, someone will be in touch. “I have your phone number now, and so does Alex. One of us will call you and keep you posted how Todd is doing.” He tells you. “Go now with your friends and do what Alex instructed, Sweetheart.” He tells you.

 You nod and move over to Aiden and Scarlett. Richard pulls Graham over and you sit and tell them what all happened, and they get a scared look on their faces. They look up at Richard, who’s face is currently unreadable, Graham is looking pissed.

 You tell them, “Alex ordered that we all go to Mark’s so I can finish my training with Phantom. We are not to leave there unless Phantom is with us. The police are looking for my ex now that he violated the restraining order, committed arson and shot Todd.” You tell them.

 Aiden and Scarlett nod and stand, “Well then, let’s get going.” Aiden says. “Graham, you riding with us or with Harley or are you driving your jag?” He asks.

 “I’ll go with Harley, you follow Rich’s car out to Mark’s.” he tells Aiden.

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#reader x richard armitage #richard armitage #Graham McTavish #aiden turner #harley #scarlett #phantom #bad news #panic attack #threats #fire #gunshot #attempted murder #arson #harassment #phone call #shock #anxiety #protective richard #protective graham #friendship #help #training #police #found #rescued #cuddling #hold my drink #crying #restraining order

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Two - Beatrice and Bertrand make a Grave Error

The Baudelaire children usually didn’t go out on their own. It wasn’t that their parents didn’t trust them, but there had been several instances where they had to drop everything and immediately leave town, and Beatrice and Bertrand were absolutely terrified that one day their children would be too far away for them to pick up, and they’d end up separated, and then somehow the world would explode. But sometimes, if the kids were reasonably cautious, they could take a day to themselves. 

Violet was sitting at the edge of the beach, tying back her hair. “Klaus, at what angle are the prevailing currents?” 

Klaus pulled a book from the basket, reading aloud from the chart inside. Beside them, Sunny gnawed on a rock, gave it a glare, and then tossed it aside, reaching for one that wasn’t sandstone. 

“Of course, we’ll need the right projectile.” Klaus said. 

“That’s where Sunny comes in.” Violet said. “How you doing, sweetie?” 

Sunny smiled and held up the stone, now perfectly flat. “Asill!” she called, meaning something akin to, “Ready!” 

Violet pushed back the picnic basket, and stood, waving the rock in her hand. 

“Excuse me, Violet,” Klaus said, “Why are you using your left hand?” 

“I’m curious to see if I can throw as far with my left as I can with my right.” 

“I thought this was to gather data, though.” 

“My invention may need to differentiate between dominant and non-dominant hands.” 

“I guess that’s true. Mark the rock.” 

“Shit, I almost forgot.” Violet said. She knelt down, opening up the basket, and pulling out some chalk from underneath the canned food. “Here it is.” She drew a large X, and then stood up again and skipped. The three siblings watched as the rock tossed itself across the water and then, after Klaus called out nine skips, Violet handed him her ribbon and dove in. 

Sunny cheered as the siblings were splashed. She loved getting wet and messy, though she knew it was a bad thing, as they only had a few clothes at a time. “Luto!” she cheered, meaning, “Get mud on us next!” 

“Sunny, no.” Klaus sighed, pulling a dry shirt from the basket to wipe his glasses. 

“Ye!” Sunny said, which meant something like, “Sunny, yes!” 

Klaus replaced his glasses and looked back to the water, to see Violet emerging several feet away, her hair pressed against her face. She held up the rock, and called, “How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

Violet sighed and swam closer, eventually making her way back onto the sand, now dripping wet. “I said, ‘how far?’” She repeated, handing Klaus the rock.

“Oh.” Klaus considered, absent-mindedly pocketing the stone, and then told her his best guess. 

“We’ll need exacts, of course,” Violet said, squeezing her hair, and then shaking like a dog. “We’ll need some kind of measuring device.” She took her ribbon from Klaus, tying her hair back again. “I need a measuring device. Portable and waterproof. Sunny-” 

“Gack!” Sunny shouted, pointing ahead. “Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!” 

The children looked up; the beach was, indeed, quite foggy, and up ahead, was some sort of figure moving towards them. 

 Violet immediately tensed up, and grabbed the basket, slamming it shut and flipping the lock. Klaus lifted Sunny, who leaned into his shoulder and squinted her small eyes. 

“It only seems scary because of all the mist.” Klaus said. 

Violet looked very carefully, and then instantly relaxed. She dropped the basket to the ground, and ran forwards.

“Mother! Father!” 

Klaus’s face brightened, and he also ran with his big sister, lifting Sunny higher as she cheered. Out of the mist, Beatrice ran forwards, enveloping her daughter in a tight hug. 

“Do we- Father!” Klaus squealed as Bertrand also hugged him, then decided to go the extra mile and spin him and Sunny around. Sunny laughed and threw up her arms as if they were on a ride, while Klaus just said, “Dad! Come on!” 

“I assume this isn’t urgent, then?” Violet laughed, as Beatrice let her go and looked her over. 

“No. Why are you all wet?” 

“I jumped in the water to get a rock.” 

“Well, okay. So long as your clothes dry-” 

“These will be fine, they’re the right material.” 

“Is it time to go already?” Klaus asked. “We only just stopped looking at fish and tide pools and just started skipping rocks.” 

“Sorry, Klaus.” Bertrand said, putting him and Sunny down and straightening Sunny’s bonnet. “But the post office is closed for the weekend, which means we can get into the attic if we hurry before the custodians lock the doors.” 

“Will Lemon Man send us a telegram?” Violet asked, in a sing-song voice; she’d come up with the half-rhyme when she was eight, to entertain Klaus. 

“We hope so. His last message said he should be speaking soon.” Beatrice said, her face lighting up a little. 

“And,” Bertrand smiled slightly, “When we get there, we have a surprise for you children.” 

“Cake?” Sunny asked, excited. 

“No, afraid not.” Bertrand laughed, and he took Klaus’s hand. “Come on, let’s hurry it up before we have to climb through the window.” 

Beatrice creaked open the backdoor to the post office, peered inside, and then waved and went in. Violet followed cautiously, holding onto Sunny with one arm and Klaus’s hand with the other. Bertrand took up the rear, glancing behind them every now and again just to make sure they hadn’t been followed. 

Violet remembered a few years ago- she’d had to have been ten or eleven- when they had been followed. Beatrice had quietly asked her if she recognized the man in the black hat behind them at the bookstore, and Violet realized he’d been a few tables away at the café, and Klaus muttered that he’d been at the same grocery store. Beatrice and Bertrand had taken them down several aisles of the shop they were in, zig-zagging best they could, before going out into the road, running wildly down several streets until they found a crowd, pushing through it, and then picking a well-populated spot to sleep- a homeless shelter, where thankfully nobody asked questions, and a nice lady taught Violet and Klaus how to play clapping games. But even then, Violet remembered a dread in the pit of her stomach, one that didn’t go away until they were three towns away, and the black-hat man made no further appearance, and Klaus had already forgotten the incident and almost ran away to chase a cat. 

She hated that dread, and now she had two siblings to help her parents look after, one of whom had no sense of fear. But at least they weren’t completely helpless; Sunny was quite the biter, and though Klaus was a slower learner than her, he could hold his own in a fight at least long enough for backup to arrive. They could run, they could hide. And they were all on the lookout for followers, anyone they recognized too many times- or sometimes even specific people. Every now and again, Mother or Father would see something in the newspaper, and turn it around and point to someone and warn them that person was an enemy- either from VFD or against, it didn’t matter. They were an enemy to their parents, and therefore the children. 

Beatrice directed them away from a room with some noise inside- probably a janitor, making sure everything was clean and locked up- and herded them towards a staircase. There, she signalled them several numbers with her hands- two, fifteen, twenty-seven. The stairs that creaked. Violet went up first, swiftly skipping the steps, while Klaus took a bit longer, watching to make sure Violet skipped the step before doing so himself. Even Sunny fell silent, which was very nice; it had taken them quite some time to convince her that, yes, she had to stop humming or crying or giggling when they needed to be quiet. 

Beatrice finally pushed open the door to the attic, and peered in, lighting a candle that lay beside the door. The small room flickered with the dim light, and Violet’s eyes flickered, too, as she saw the old telegrams stored around them. 

“These still work.” Beatrice nodded as Violet put Sunny down, reaching again for her ribbon. “Take one apart if you want, but leave at least one working, in case Lemony contacts us.” 

“Loco?” Sunny asked, which meant something like, “He knows where we are?” 

“He has a… general idea.” Bertrand explained, as Klaus put the basket by the wall and he closed the door. “We never tell anyone exactly where we are, Sunny.” 

“But more importantly,” Beatrice knelt by the ground, and her children quickly sat around her, forming a circle with a space left for their father, “Our surprise. Are you ready?” 

“Mother, of course we are.” Klaus tried to hide his smile. 

“Enough with the theater kid reveal, just tell us.” Violet said. 

Beatrice made a pouting face. “What? Too dramatic for you?” 

“We’re not babies, Mom.” 

“Dis,” Sunny said, which meant, “That’s offensive.” 

“Shut up, Sunny, you wanna see, too.” 

Bertrand sat inbetween his two youngest children, looking more excited than they were, and said, “Bea, dear, show them what we got.” 

Beatrice smiled so, so brightly, and then she reached into her jacket pocket, and whipped out a deck of cards. 

The Baudelaires immediately lost their minds. 

“Holy shit!” Klaus shouted, forgetting that they should still be quiet and also that he probably shouldn’t swear in front of his parents. 

“Oh my God!” Violet started bouncing up and down, a dazzling glee spread across her face. “Oh my God! You got some? We can have some? For a while?” 

“Pok!” Sunny screamed, which meant something like, “You’ll teach me to play, right? You said you would!” 

Beatrice also bounced slightly, dropping the pack onto the floor in front of Sunny, who immediately grabbed it and bit into the plastic wrap to open it. “Yes! There was some in the convenience store, and since it’s finally warm enough we could ditch one pack of matches, so we have room for these now!” 

“I’ll deal!” Klaus took the cards from Sunny, while she continued to bite into the plastic. “What are we playing first?” 

“Pesca!” Sunny said. “Go fish!” 

“Or,” Beatrice took a card from Klaus, “I could show you some tricks!” 

“Yes! Yes!” Violet cheered. She quickly turned to Sunny and said, “Mother’s card tricks are the best. She can make them disappear!” 

Sunny gave her a look of disbelief. “Jan,” she said, which meant, “Yeah, right.” 

“Well, Sunny,” Beatrice said, showing her the ace of hearts, “If you think so…” Then, with a swish of her hand, the card was gone. 

Violet and Klaus clapped, while Bertrand laughed. Sunny, however, widened her eyes in shock, and then she let out a wail. 

Beatrice’s face fell. “Oh, no, Sunny, look, I can bring it back!” She waved her hand, and the ace of hearts was in her hand again. 

Sunny stopped crying, a look of amazement on her face. “Wow!” she clapped. 

“Now,” Bertrand said, “I was thinking about Patience. Klaus, do you want to show Sunny how to play?” 

Klaus nodded, spreading out the cards. “See, Sunny, here the symbols don’t matter, but the numbers and colors. You know what numbers to look for, right?” 

“Dec!” Sunny said, which meant, “One through Ten!” 

“Good. Then after Ten comes the Jack, the Queen, and the King. Now, can you remember them in descending order?” 

“Toidi.” “Yes, Klaus, I’m not an idiot.” 

Klaus spread out the cards, and they all spread out, calling out cards they thought they could play. This continued for quite some time, to the point where Beatrice had to light a second candle so they could keep playing, and Sunny had to make sure nobody saw her yawn and would make her go to bed. 

“Who taught you how to play cards?” Violet asked, after a while. 

“My foster mother.” Bertrand said. “Beatrice learned from…” 

He trailed off, but Beatrice finished. “From my chaperone.” 

They fell silent. Then, Klaus said, “Well, I bet they didn’t think that part of the game would be trying to keep an infant from eating the- Sunny, stop it!” 

Sunny put down the queen of spades, huffing. That was enough to brighten the mood again, and Beatrice let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. “S-Sunny, please- please, they’re not food.” 

“Doo,” Sunny said, which meant, “Everything’s food if you eat it.” 

“Sunny.” Bertrand laughed. 

“God, you’re going to be a disaster when you get older.” Violet giggled, placing a  card down. 

“Xis,” Sunny huffed, which meant something like, “No, I’m going to be the Queen, so bow to me, peasants.”

“Now, Sunny,” Bertrand chided, “That’s no way to talk to your loyal subjects.” 

“Loyal my ass,” Violet snorted. “We’re throwing her down the garbage chute first chance we get. Too much dead weight.” 

“Bapa!” “I’ll show you who’s dead weight!” 

Sunny launched herself at Violet, barely shaking her balance. Violet, though, flopped on the ground, crying, “Oh no! The Queen has gone mad with power!” 

“The Queen is attacking the Royal Scientist!” Klaus shouted, before picking Sunny up and waving her in the air. “Off with her head!” 

“Viva la Revolución!” Violet cheered from the floor. 

“Now, now,” Beatrice laughed, “Does the Empress have to step in?” 

“No, the Empress can go make out with the Emperor.” Klaus said, as he tossed Sunny into the air and caught her again. 

“Well, if you insist-” Bertrand said. 

“Dad, no! Not in front of the baby!” 

“I’m baby!” Sunny cheered, as Klaus tossed her again. 

But before they could say any more, they heard a telegram machine start up. 

Beatrice immediately leapt to her feet, rushing to the machine that was printing out a small paper for them. Bertrand froze, eyes wide. 

“Lemon Man has sent us a telegram!” Klaus said. 

Violet didn’t join in his laughter, though, instead inspecting her parents’ faces. Whenever she was present for the receiving of a telegram, her parents always had the same look, a mixture that took her several experiences to decipher. First, in their jumble of instant emotions, was an excitement- whether positive or negative depended on how much of a jam they were in, though her parents made sure that they were never in too much danger to begin with. Second was relief, because it meant Snicket knew where they were and could send them news, though it was always in code. Third was a fear, fear that this would be horrible news, or someone else’s message, telling them that Snicket had been captured and someone was coming for them. Last, and hardest to figure out- in fact, Violet only placed it now, as Beatrice returned with the paper, showing it to Bertrand, who took out a pen to help decode- was a longing. She wondered what the longing was for- for the life they’d left behind, or just for their friend. They’d always seemed very fond of Lemony, whenever they discussed him; they must have been incredibly close. 

“He hasn’t used this code in a while.” Beatrice snorted. “Finally remembered it existed.” 

“Yeah, he’s gotta stop using Sebald. Too wordy.” Bertrand said. 

“First of all, that’s just how Lemony is.” Beatrice said. “Second, bold words coming from ‘attempting a botanical hybrid through the tuberous canopy, which should bring safety to fruition despite its dangers to our associates in utero.’” 

“Hell, Bea, you still have that memorized?” 

“I’m an actress, dear, memorization is my job.” 

“Get a room!” Klaus said, rolling his eyes and bouncing Sunny on his lap, where she had started to eat her bonnet. 

“You need any help with that, Mother?” Violet asked, peering over at her parents circling letters and scribbling them at the paper’s edge. 

“Thank you, Vi, but I think we’ve got it.” Beatrice said. She got to the last sentence, and said, “Alright, let’s see what our silence knot has for us today.” 

Her and Bertrand’s eyes widened, however, as they read the message, and Violet could see a flash of fear. Shit. That wasn’t good news.

“Mother? What does it say?” Klaus asked, his face falling. Slowly, Violet started to pick up the playing cards. 

Beatrice scanned the note, as if hoping that it would say something different. Then, quietly, she read. 

HURRY. YOU ARE IN DANGER. I CAN KEEP YOU SAFE BUT YOU MUST RETURN TO THE CITY. MAY BE ABLE TO CLEAR YOUR NAMES. BRING ALL ASSOCIATES. O IS NEARBY. -YSK

Violet knew “YSK” was Lemony’s way of signing off- Your Silence Knot, some kind of inside joke they shared- and she knew that O was one of the people they were running from- what was his name again? Omar? But it didn’t matter what she knew; the message chilled her. 

“The city?” Klaus’s voice grew quiet. “You said that’s where we were running from.” 

“We shouldn’t be there.” Violet said. 

Beatrice shut her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Bertrand was the first one to respond. “Children, we trust Lemony more than anyone else on this planet- except you, of course. If he says…” he trailed off. “God, this is risky.” 

“He wouldn’t ask us to do it if it wasn’t important.” Beatrice whimpered- the children had never known their mother to whimper. 

“Are we sure it’s him?” 

“Nobody else would sign off with YSK, or know our location.” 

“How can Olaf be nearby?” Olaf, that was it!

“Which one is Olaf again?” Klaus asked. 

Bertrand drew in a sharp breath. Beatrice shook slightly, and said, “He’s… he’s the one we wronged.” 

Violet and Klaus went pale, while Sunny just looked up in confusion. “Whazzit?” she asked, but nobody responded. 

“Are you… gonna tell us what happened?” Klaus prodded, and Violet elbowed him. 

“We… we can discuss that when we’re safe.” Beatrice said. “We’ll have to move quickly. If we catch a train tonight, we should be there by morning.” 

“Do you have money?” 

“I have enough. We can put Sunny in the basket if someone wears an extra jacket, so we don’t have to pay for her ticket.” 

“Sure.” Sunny nodded, excited to do some sneaking. 

“Should we really bring the children?” Beatrice asked, glancing towards them. 

“Lemony said to bring all associates. Who else could he mean? He must have some kind of plan, right?” 

“Maybe he wants us to invite the designated safe people.” 

“It would take a while for all your safehouse peeps to show up.” Violet mentioned. Their parents had them all memorize the addresses of places to go if they got separated, but she doubted Lemony would know which houses they were- or, indeed, if the people living there knew they were a safehouse. 

Beatrice glanced back down at the telegram, running her hand over the message. Then, quietly, she said, “Do you think he could really clear our names?” 

Bertrand met her gaze, and they were clearly asking the same question- do we want him to? 

“So,” Violet interrupted, knowing her parents were thinking terrible things and not wanting that to continue for much longer, “Does this mean we get to meet our mysterious Lemony man?” 

Beatrice and Bertrand each took a deep breath, and then Bertrand said, “Yes.” 

Klaus smiled brightly, and he picked up Sunny. “What are we waiting for, then?” 

Beatrice grabbed her husband’s hand, and as the children ran to get all their bags and make sure they had everything, she whispered, “We’re seeing him again.” 

“We’re seeing him again.” Bertrand repeated, his voice just as full of hope as hers.

#asoue #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #asoue au #runaway baudelaires au #asoue fanfiction #mine #my fanfic #the bad beginning #all those things they couldn't say

[kingsten]

 the city is forgetting you, which is to say you should return home — brian jaehyun kang  — december 19, 1994 — sagittarius / neutral good / enfp-t — margate, new jersey. his parents own a bookstore and cafe where he works as a barista or cashier — speaks english, korean, french like actually knows the language unlike jm because he paid attention in school —  attended stockton university which is about a 40 minute drive from his parents house in margate so he would drive in everyday. he got his associates in general studies in 2014, — with some prompting from joel and tom he got the courage to finally leave his hometown for the first time and moved to paris on a scholarship to pursue a degree in business. halfway through he changed majors to music degree. he graduated in 2019 with a ba degree in music composition.  — currently works as a waiter / barista at a small shop in downtown la  — he dreams of opening up his own jazz club in ny or downtown la 

5 things:

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS: - curious  - humble - passionate, yet passive - joyous yet secretive  - pensive and calculating

GREETINGS: - the first person to talk and greets with a smile a slight bow of his head when saying ‘hello’. - ‘what are you doing? :)’ first thing in the morning - forgets to say hello and gets straight to the point when on the phone or even in person. then he’ll stop speaking all of a sudden, blink, then look the person in the eye and ask if he remembered to say hello.  - bone crushing hug and sways the person side to side if he knows them very well. - a small nod of his head and a smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes. then will proceed to redirect the conversation from himself.

COLORS: - dark blue - light grey  - white - dark grey - earth green SCENTS: - coffee beans - fresh mint - home cooked meals - new books - oil (from fixing cars with his dad)

Clothing: - t-shirts/band shirts from concerts he goes to - skinny jeans/plain or ripped jeans/nike jogging pants - white or black button-ups with an apron that has his parents shop advertised  - converse, adidas, vans, nike,  - adidas hoodies/wind breakers, jean jackets, fedoras, beanies,

Objects: - pens/notebook - airpods - water bottle  - classic hollywood movies - has his nintendo switch on him at all times VICES/BAD HABITS: - he’s not as impulsive as jm but he’s easily talked into things. i.e signing petitions or gym memberships. - he’s not good at saying no to people but he’s gotten better at it since living in paris  - can come across as flighty or overly busy because his schedule is always full and tends to overbook himself or put aside things he actually wants to do - when annoyed he tends to close himself off completely. he just expects people to know why he’s annoyed. - when overwhelmed he’ll turn off his phone for a few days or loses it accidentally  BODY LANGUAGE : - he’s easy to read based on body language alone. when in a good mood he’s alert and at attention and very responsive - when upset he crosses his arms and is visibly closed off.  - always leans forward when listening to an interesting story, eyebrows raised, hands on his knees, held tilt. jm says he looks like a cat watching something. - he’s not afraid to make eye contact when happy and can be touchy when he knows the person. if he finds something funny then he’ll probably grab the person’s shoulder or arm as he laughs. - when disappointed he’ll stare at the floor, crosses arms or shove them into his pockets, when mad he’ll makes eye contact and holds it then looks away, shakes his head, rubs his temples or throws his hands up in defeat. shoulders slumped and a small furrow of his brows. AESTHETICS: - restored cars and 60s jazz playing through the stereo - mussed up hair, dark sunnies, ripped jeans and daydreaming at golden hour - late nights at the drive in or pool parties with a live band playing  - coffee stains on his shirts, notebooks, backpack and basically everything else he owns - long voicemails, hand scribbled notes that are almost impossible to read due to his terrible handwriting, late night fast food visits and stealing fries SONGS: - another day of sun “without a nickel to my name, hopped a bus, here i came. i could be brave or just insane. we'll have to see.” - island in the sun, weezer  - slow dancing in the dark, joji - summertime in paris  - noah and the whale - heart of nowhere 

[sassenachwriter]

At Last 1. Alone and Blue as Can Be

A/N: New fanfic alert! Yes, I know I still have to finish Kind of Woman and Attachment, but I promise I will! This story is inspired by the book Jamie writes about Claire in my other fic The Writer Who Loved Me. It tells the story of Jamie Fraser, a soldier who moves back home in Inverness after the end of the war. He meets Claire Beauchamp, a bookstore owner, and find a muse in her. Since it was @julesbeauchamp who forced me to write this fic, I decided to post it on her birthday 🤓 happy birthday gurl😘 I would also like to thank @curlsgetdemgurls for doing the beta of this chapter! Enjoy!

Jamie never thought he’d live to see the end of the war. He had nothing of a soldier except his physique. Lieutenants and commanders loved his height, his long legs that made him run faster than the other men; they loved his build, his strength to carry weapons or injured mates. Everything they loved about him, it disgusted Jamie.

Before this bloody war started, Jamie was a writer, fresh out of university, living in New York with his mother and sister. He had just started to work for a local newspaper when the United States joined the Allies in 1941 and he was sent to the front. Not as a journalist, but as a soldier. The first time he held a gun during the first week of training, he thought he was never going to see his mother’s face again. He was young, only twenty six years old with a lot of life yet to live.

He still remembered the day he learned that the war was over. He was in a field hospital, confined to bed with a bullet in his knee, hallucinating because of the morphine. After being transported back to London, he stayed in rehabilitation for a few weeks and was sent back to his family in New York, but a few months after he came back, his sister got married and he was alone with his mother.

Of course, his mother and sister were in heaven to see him back alive, even if he constantly needed the help of a walking stick. Jamie, on the other hand, regretted every moment he spent breathing. He couldn’t bear being alive, the beating of his own heart made him sick. He didn’t deserve to live, not more than any of his friends who had lost their lives in Europe.

In addition to his disgust of being alive, Jamie couldn’t write anymore. He spent months moping around the small apartment, unable to write down words. There was nothing he could do that could make him feel alive.

He never told his mother about it, but he tried to kill himself two months after he came back. He didn’t know what was worse, his nightmares or the inability to write. Before the war, he couldn’t spend a day without writing. He always carried a pad and a pen around, writing about everything and nothing. When he was twelve, his mother bought a typewriter for his birthday, with which he wrote his first novel, a novel he never published. After the war, every word that came out of his mind made him want to hide with shame. Shame of being alive, shame of living to write such stupidities.

So one Sunday night, after spending the day in front of this old typewriter machine without touching one key, he took a cab to the Brooklyn Bridge. He stood facing the rushing water forty meters underneath his feet for hours, tears streaming on his face until he finally decided to painfully walk back home. He would have to bear his skin for the rest of his life.

“Maybe ye should go back home to Scotland,” his mother told him one night they were dining together.

He looked up at her, brows furrowed. Jenny had moved back to Scotland with her husband. They lived in a small flat in Edinburgh, but he didn’t want to be a burden for them.

Jamie shook his head. “Scotland is no’ a home anymore,” he said, looking down at his plate.

“New York is no’ a home either.”

“I canna go back to Scotland…” he whispered.

Growing up in Scotland, Jamie had spent his childhood in his ancestral home, Lallybroch, a castle standing tall in the valleys of clan Fraser. When the Great War was declared in 1914, Jamie’s father was sent in France to fight with the Allies. Pregnant Ellen Fraser decided to move with her sister to North Carolina during the war. Brian Fraser was killed in 1915, a few days after receiving a letter from his wife, saying he was the father of a beautiful, red headed son.

When the war ended, they went back to Lallybroch but it felt different, estranged, like they had never lived there before. After running out of money, the Frasers decided to move back to the United States in 1920. Ellen found a job and thought it would be best to be on a soil that wasn’t destructed by bombs. Jamie lived in a city he hated in an apartment he hated for years until he enrolled. He had no place to call a home and it would always be this way. At least, that’s what he told himself. But when his mother mentioned moving back to Scotland that night at supper, he didn’t reject the idea.

For days he thought about it and thought that maybe going back to his roots would help him with his writing. He was ready to do anything to find inspiration, to write like he did before. Passionate, fearless and simply brilliant.

Without moving permanently, he decided to go back to the motherland for a few months. He told himself he would only come back once he wrote something. He tried to set a goal, a hundred pages, two hundred, but he thought it was pointless. His expectations were very low.

***

Jamie landed in Scotland in May 1946 with nothing but a small suitcase, his typewriter - the same one he had since he was twelve - and his walking stick. He didn’t want to stay in Edinburgh and even less in Glasgow, so he bought a train ticket for Inverness. What Jamie needed was calmness, serenity and silence. He thought Inverness was the perfect place for it, even if it was a little too close to Lallybroch for him.

He arrived during the afternoon and stopped for tea at Mrs. Graham’s, a small coffee shop facing the River Ness. He asked her if he could leave her his suitcase for the day while he wandered around Inverness. But before he went out, he slowly drank, finally tasting good tea after years of horrible yellow piss. He closed his eyes and sighed. While eating a scone, he read the local newspapers, but closed it as soon as he turned the page on an article about the war. He couldn’t read it just now. He wanted to know more about this event. He needed to really know what he had been part of, the reason why he had killed men, the reason why thousands and thousands of people had died, the reason why his leg was crippled for life, but it was too soon. He left money on the table, drank one last sip and put his hat on his head before he walked out.

He noticed a bookstore right next to Mrs. Graham’s. He decided to go, thinking maybe a good book would help him during sleepless nights. Maybe reading would help him better than desperately trying to write.

He saw a ‘Room for rent’ ad on the door and pulled it opened, a bell ringing when he stepped inside the place. It was much bigger from the inside, rows filled with books everywhere. Too many rows. There was a comforting smell of mint and plants in the air, a smell that pleasantly tickled his nostrils. He felt peaceful, and almost smiled. He noticed the gramophone next to the cashier, from which My Love For You by Frank Sinatra was playing.

“One minute!” he heard a feminine voice call from behind the store.

He took his hat off, starting to wander around the bookshelves. The books were dusty, ordered by the writers’ names. Jamie didn’t know exactly what he was looking for until he saw her.

“Hello! Can I help you?”

Jamie opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. She was beautiful, with rebellious brown curls flying around her head and with shining beautiful whisky eyes. Her lips were pink and luscious, begging him to kiss her.

She lifted her dark brows, waiting for an answer. “Has the cat got your tongue?” she smiled. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen. For the first time in months -if not years- he felt seen. He found himself smiling back, something he hadn’t done in a while. At that moment, when the corners of her mouth curled up, he knew she had cast a spell on him and that he could never leave her. Or at least, not without being haunted by her voice until his heart stopped beating.

“No,” he finally said. “I… I am looking for a book.”

“Well, you’re at the right place for that,” she smiled. He blushed, looking down at his feet. “Are you looking for something specific?”

“No,” he was speechless. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t say a word. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he didn’t know what was happening to him. Jamie had never been in love, maybe it was like that.

“Alright… Well, I’ll let you look around. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

She turned around and walked to the backstore. She was wearing trousers stained with dirt and he couldn’t help but look at her bum. Swearing in his head, he looked at the books, not finding anything interesting to read. He could only think about those whisky eyes.

After checking around, he took a deep breath and hesitantly walked  towards the backstore. “Uh… Excuse me?” he asked. She came out of a room, dirt on her cheek. “Maybe I need help, after all.”

She smiled and wiped her hands on her pants. “Alright,” she took a sip from the cup of tea that was resting on one of the shelves.

“I havena read in a verra long time. In six years, actually. I havena read a book in six years.”

He saw a shadow cross her face as she did the math, but she immediately smiled back. “Well, I can help you find something that will fit you.”

“Nothing too… Nothing about the war, nothing about… Something different.”

She frowned, a smile still glued on her beautiful lips, thinking seriously. “Maybe it’s a stupid question, but have you ever read Agatha Christie?”

“No…” he said, blushing.

“Well, that could be a choice. Follow me.” He followed her to the front of the store were dozens of books from this writer were waiting together. “You have the choice between the elderly, amateur detective British woman Miss Jane Marple or the retired Belgian detective Hercule Poirot based in London.”

“Which one is your favourite?” he asked, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Well… I love them all, but if you have to read one to begin with…” she looked at the books on the shelf and handed him one. And Then There Were None. “Ten people compliced of murders -but not convicted- are invited on a mysterious island where they are killed each at a time.”

Revenge, bloody trials, he thought he was going to like it.

“I’ll take it.”

“Great!” she smiled. “I hope you will like it… I’ve never seen you around… Are you traveling?”

“Yes, you can say so. But I am staying here for a while. How much for this?”

“Oh,” she waved her hand. “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

He looked into her eyes. “Just because I have a walking stick doesna mean that I canna pay for my own books.” His voice wasn’t mean, it was only the truth.

It was her turn to blush, her cheeks turning crimson red. “I didn’t mean to… I just…”

“Dinna worry,” he smiled warmly. “I saw that ye are renting a room.”

“Yes. Are you interested?”

They walked upstairs to the room that was for rent. It was a small room with a double bed by the window facing the river. There wasn’t much in the room: a small sofa and a small kitchen. “There is only one bathroom to share with the other room.”

It was simple, but Jamie thought he could make it a home, especially if she was just next to him. “I’ll take it.”

“Great! Oh! and by the way, I am Claire.”

“Jamie,” he smiled, shaking her hand.

***

Of course, it rained that night.

Jamie was lying in bed, looking at the water drops falling against the window. He felt surprisingly peaceful, hearing the echoes of a Ozzie Nelson record playing in Claire’s room. He found himself smiling at the thought of her.

When he came back from the army, when he went back to New York, Jamie never thought he could be happy again. Just smiling was difficult and it took all the effort in the world to convince his mother that he was alright. When he came back, there was a heavy weight on his chest, crushing him, cutting his breath short. There was a hole in his heart that was slowly swallowing him alive. There were images burned in his head, images he could never forget and that came to haunt him when he was least expecting it.

But when he walked into the bookstore, he had felt at peace, as if he had entered a safe haven. And when he saw her, he felt as if he could breathe again for the first time in his life. When she smiled at him, it was as if the sun returned and cast out the darkness.

There was something about her that he found intriguing. He wanted to know everything about her, from her childhood to the reason why she owned a small shop in Inverness. She was English, that was for sure. He immediately recognized the accent when she spoke to him. He didn’t think she was from London, though. He’d known londoners during the war and they didn’t speak like she did.

He’d seen the dirt on her trousers and by the smell in the bookstore, he thought she might be gardening in the backstore.

Clearly, she wasn’t married. She was not wearing a ring and he had not seen a man enter the place since he first came in, almost ten hours ago. He was ashamed just to think about it, but he was happy that she probably wasn’t.

He didn’t know much about her, but he decided that during the following months in Inverness, he was going to get to know her.

Suddenly, he felt the need to get up and write. Putting on his pants, he got up and walked to the small table in the kitchen. He took the typewriter out of its box and sat in front of it. His bum wasn’t even seated when he typed the first word.

She was a woman of mystery.

He couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the way her curls rioted around her face. Claire. He wanted to say it aloud, hearing how it sounded on his mouth, but he wouldn’t risk her hearing it.

Still, Jamie was not at ease with the idea of thinking about her this way. But he couldn’t help it.

Elizabeth. He was going to name her Elizabeth.

Jamie just started to write about this Elizabeth. He knew nothing about her, but as the words came out of his mind, as he filled pages and put them on a pile next to him, he started to get to know her. She was simply inspiring.

The hours passed and Jamie started to yawn, his eyelids becoming heavy. It had been a long day. He decided to go back to bed, bringing the papers with him. He sat against the wall, and with the light on the bed table on, he read for hours, a smile never leaving his face. He didn’t know if the reason for it was the thought of her or the accomplishment of writing pages he didn’t want to burn.

After a while, he put them on the nightstand, turned off the light and closed his eyes, lying down on his back. He sighed, letting his mind wander. Elizabeth. He tried to think of how he was going to tell her story. Of course, he couldn’t write about a bookshop owner in Inverness. Yet, every time, his mind came back to this. He knew it was the story he had to tell. Her story.

He listened to her footsteps in the room next to his, feeling reassured by her presence. He slowly fell asleep to the words of the music playing in Claire’s room.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

#outlander fanfic #at last

[temporalwaveofmischief]

Brian/Alex library cafè AU fic:

An elbow jabbed painfully in Alex's stomach. This caused Alex to fall from the bed that him and his boyfriend, Brian, share. Alex landed with a loud 'thump!' on the floor of their dorm room.

Brian was still sound asleep.

Once Alex got his bearings, he sat up with a huff. He got up and shook Brian.

"Brian. Brian." Then, Alex whispered in Brian's ear, "I guess we're not going to that 'suprise' you wanted us to go to."

Immediately, Brian shot up from the bed.

"Huh?! W-wuh-" Brian started. Alex kissed his cheek.

"Good morning, my star."

Brian puffed up his chest and furrowed his eyebrows. Alex only rolled his eyes and let out a quiet laugh.

Alex leaned forward and kissed Brian.

Unfortunately though, they had to start their day and they couldn't cuddle in bed for all of it. They cleaned up their dorm room, since it was looking more like a frat house than an actual room.

And they took their morning shower together. They stared admiringly at each others' bodies. Alex felt like covering up, but the way Brian was staring at his body made him feel like... a greek statue? God, when did he become sappy and dramatic? After some kisses and hugs were exchanged, they finally got dressed.

Before they went to the car, Alex grabbed his cat plush. (He named it Ash since Pokèmon was one of his favorite shows)

Eventually, they got to their car.

Alex got in the passenger's seat and opened the glove box. Inside, there were a multitude of CDs. He flipped through them until he saw what he was looking for. Alex inserted the CD into the slot. It was their special CD. It had Brian's rock and jazz music, and it had Alex's game OSTs and classical songs.

"Okay," Brian began. The jazz music was blaring through their speakers.

"Wear this blindfold."

Alex groaned. Internally, however, he didn't mind. But, he loved being a pain in the ass.

"Come ooooonnnnn, Alexxxxxxxx." Brian whined.

"How about," Alex paused. " a 'no' from me."

Brian pouted and used the cursed puppy dog eyes. Dammit. Too. Weak. Must-

"Fine."

Brian pumped his fist in the air and clapped his hands. He retrieved a cloth from his pocket.

"Ok. I'm gonna wrap this around you. DO. NOT. PULL. IT. DOWN."

"Oh. Like I did when-"

Brian put his hand over Alex's mouth.

Alex let out a snort, then a loud, unforgiving laugh.

Brian blushed. "Put on the blindfold, please."

Alex stopped and put the blind fold on.

Brian perked up, and slowly drove out of the university's parking lot.

The music blaring from the speakers was now playing one of his favorite tracks. Alex leaned back in his seat, and let his brain play white static.

However, Alex did not realize he had fallen asleep. After what seemed like forever, Alex's dream was interrupted when Brian shook his shoulder.

"Mmm. Five more minutes."

"Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn."

"Sunflower, wake up."

Alex instanly opened his eyes at the name.

It was then Alex remembered he still had the blindfold on.

"Hey, uh, can I take this off?"

"Yup! We're here!"

Alex slowly took the blindfold off.

He could not believe his eyes.

It was a bookstore. Holy moly.

Alex quickly grabbed Brian's face and kissed all over it. Hell-to-the-fricking-yes. Brian giggled and screeched in pleasure.

"Glad you like it, sunflower."

They both got out of the car.

The building was of average size. It was made out of brick with enormous windows. On the door, there was a sign that said, 'Welcome to the Bluebird Cafè!' Underneath the message, there was a drawing of a detailed bluejay.

When they stepped inside, Alex was brimming with excitement. Hmm- no. Excitement was an understatement. He was in heaven.

All that surrounded the two were rows upon rows of books. It was endless.

Then, someone familiar approached them.

The man was wearing a plad shirt, khaki pants, and a green apron with a bluejay ironed on it. His nametag read 'Jay'.

"Hello!" Jay greeted.

Oh. It was that Jay. The one he met in elementary.

"Hey! I haven't seen ya' in awhile! How've you been?" Brian began.

"Oh, well, Tim's been good. He's manning the cafè if you want to see him."

"Sure. Alex, do you want to join us?"

Alex looked between them both.

"You don't have to. We can see Tim later."

Alex considered his options. Alex grabbed Brian's hand, "Sure."

Jay led the two to the cafè.

Tim was taking someone's order. After the person was done speaking, Tim paced to the coffee maker and started a fresh batch.

Tim had the same apron with the bluejay ironed on the front.

When Tim fufilled the costumer's order, Tim looked up and saw them. The stoniness that was in Tim's face immediately evaporated and was replaced with incredible warmth. It was as though stepping into a cabin and lying down near a fireplace.

"Hey, bluejay." Tim said.

"Hey sweetie." Jay replied.

Tim glanced at Brian and Alex.

"What can I get for ya' two?" Tim asked, with a pencil and notepad at the ready.

"Oh, uh," Alex stuttered.

"What are our options?" Brian replied.

"Well, lemme see," Tim looked up at the ceiling. "We have coffee, smoothies, juice, and water. That's it for the beverages. For the food, we have: donuts, muffins, eclairs, cake, and..." Tim trailed off.

"Pie and cupcakes." Jay finished for him.

"Thanks bluejay." Tim winked at him. Jay's face turned a bright shade of red.

"So, what would you two like?"

Brian looked at Alex.

After considering his options, Alex whispered his order in Brian's ear.

"Ok," Brian clapped his hands.

"I would like one orange juice and one pineapple-mango smoothie. For food, I would like a slice of pumpkin pie, and a lemon poppy seed muffin please."

"Comin' right up!"

Tim immediately went to work.

While Tim busied himself, Jay took Alex and Brian to a more secluded area of the cafe. Jay sat them down on a comfy couch with lots of pillows and blankets. In front of them, there was an old mahogany table with incense candles lit on it. Surrounding them, there were motivational posters and large windows that were partially covered with curtains.

While Alex and Brian waited, they explored the book section. While Brian wasn't really interested in books, Alex would read one within three days and pick up another one afterward. And as they explored the section, Alex began to have a stack of books in his arms that almost obscured his face.

After they were done, they sat down on the couch again and waited for their orders. Alex was already immersed in a book, while Brian just glanced around them and watched Alex's expressions. Even the tiny little things about Alex made him love him even more. The way he furrowed his eyebrows whenever the book gets interesting, or when he let's out tiny gasps when a character did a shocking thing or a plot twist happened that he didn't expect. It's just so.... Alex. And he loved it.

Brian re-adjusted his position, so that Alex laid on top of his chest.

"Watchya readin'?"

"Mmm. The Outsiders by S.E Hinton."

"Ah."

After a few minutes of waiting, Jay arrived at their table with their orders. They were pretty gosh darned good. Especially the smoothie. Eventually they cleaned themselves up, and Alex resumed his reading while clutching his stuffed cat.

They remained like this. Their hearts beating in rhythm, while rain pattered against the glass. The combination of the incense and the rain slowly lulled Brian to sleep.

They were at bliss.

And both Alex and Brian considered this the best date they ever had.

#alex kralie #brian thomas #tim wright #jay merrick #alex/brian #Jam #jay/tim #there is slight jam #but its mostly a brian/alex fic #hope you enjoy!!

[noonaduck]

BTS - Sweet Dreams pt.2

Pairing: OT7 x reader Gendre: Fantasy AU, fluff, smut(?), angst words: 1292 Summary: Eight dreams and eight powers, tied together. Would they fall or would they rise? Y/N had seen dreams about seven men as long as she could remember. Namjoon was a regular guy who worked in a small bookstore. Jin has finally reached his dream and opened his very own cafe. Yoongi was a heir  with future which was already planned for him. Jimin and Hoseok were partners in everything what they did in their life. Jungkook was an artist with complicated past. Taehyung was a knot which bonded them all.Together they all were a circle with awakening powers. 

A/N: I’m not native English speaker so bare with my mistakes and errors. I hope that you enjoy my work anyway :) 

-ch. is edited with major changes, reread is recommended. 

1. < 2. > 3.

[gifs belongs to their rightful owners]

Jimin's Pov. The last note of song played from stereos and Jimin fell panting on the ground. He and His good friend Hoseok, or Hobi, has been practicing new dance moves for a whole morning. They were at local dance studio where Hoseok was working as dance teacher. Jimin could see his reflection from mirror, he was covered in sweat and his hair was damp on his forehead. He did not feel so attractive at the moment. Three of four studio's walls were all covered in mirrors and the wall where the door is located was covered in graffiti. It was work of some local artist who's works Jimin has seen before in local art gallery. ''Do you think that we are ready for today?'' Jimin asks and looks at his friend who is drinking water from water bottle. You could see his Adam’s apple move  when he took big gulps from his drink. Hoseok grins. ''I was thinking that we should go trough the routine one more time if you are up for it?'' He asks hopefully. ''Fine, but if we win the competition you need to reward me.'' Jimin sighs and stands up. Honestly he wanted to win as much as Hoseok did but he wouldn't admit that out loud. ''It's  a deal.'' Hoseok agrees with knowing smirk. *    Jimin feels relived when he is finally at home and falls onto his bed. He lives in shared apartment with Hoseok but he went home alone because he had afternoon classes to teach. Even tough Jimin loved dancing as much as Hoseok did, he could not see himself teaching it. He enjoyed more competing in a underground dance competitions.  In fact there was one behind the corner where he and Hoseok were going to take a part. It was going to be a big event which was held in illegal  club which was located in abandoned subway station. Everything what happened there wasn't technically speaking legal. Sometimes there was illegal fights and you could find any kind of drugs which you seek. There was going to be big money on the table and to be honest Jimin or neither Hoseok cared much about illegal activities. They weren't that rich after all and really could use the money. Jimin closed his eyes and begun to think. He and Hoseok were so close as pair of friends and roommates could be. That must be the reason for his crazy dreams. Sometimes they were so vivid and real that when he actually woke up it takes some time to separate reality from a what happened while he was dreaming.  Hoseok is often playing big part in his dreams. Jimin could sometimes swear that dream Hoseok was actually the real one. Even tough he is not so happy about the nickname what he got from a girl who visited her often during his time of sleep.  Also five other men has been visiting his dreams as long as he can remember. It's so funny how he has never spoken about this with Hoseok. He would think that he is insane or at least that something is wrong with his brain. Without realizing his mind has drifted into dream.

* Y/N's pov. You have been writing your blog for few hours when you began feel tired. Your blog was about your dreams which you have been turning into short stories. Your blog was quite popular actually. You enjoyed writing and dreamed about being a journalist one day. Your blog was called Sweet Dreams . Sweet dreams wasn't your only blog but it was your way on venting stress. The second blog was about interesting local events and people. You liked to practice investigative journalism.This blog was under your alias and no one really knew who was behind this blog. To be honest your way of gaining information wasn't liked by everyone. Still people read your blog when they wanted to know about latest event what has been happening around. Okay, maybe your live wasn't always that boring or usual which seemed outside. You close your laptop and head to living room's couch. I will just close my eyes for a minute, you think. Before you know it you began to snore softly. You were walking in a magical forest where sky was lilac and small crystals were hanging from the trees. Crystals chimed like small bells. You arrived to small lake with a waterfall. You weren't alone. man with a black hair was facing the water and his back was towards you. Next to him was another boy who was laying on the crass full of nature flowers. You know instantly who they were. Ice and Flower boy. Suddenly Ice puts his hand into fist and the water freezes. ''Hey, its' getting cold.'' Flower boy whines and looks his companion annoyed. They still haven't noticed you. ''Make a blanket from plants or something.'' Ice grunts. Without words you get closer and touch his shoulder. He turns around surprised. You feel pity towards Flower boy and absurd some of Ice's power. You unfreeze the lake. ''Hey, that's cheating.'' Ice say but small smile plays on his lips. ''Ha! In your face.'' Flower boy says and changes to sitting position. You smile too and sit next to him. If you were close to two or more of these men you had to touch one of them to pick a power which you wanted to use. If you were alone with someone being close to them was enough. ''It's been a while when I have seen you last time.'' You say pointing your words to Flower boy. ''I know, I have been training for a dancing competition with my friend which is coming up this weekend.'' He sighs and rubs his forehead. ''He is perfectionist.'' ''That's interesting. I'm going to compete in a rap battle this weekend.'' Ice says interested. He is wearing cream colored button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His feet are bare and he puts them in the water. ''Wow, I think that there is freestyle  rap battle after the dance competition where I'm going.'' Flower boy grins. ''Interesting indeed.'' Ice agrees. after that we fell into comfortable silence. All this seem so familiar and some thought about upcoming underground event visits my mind shortly. Sometimes your dreams are chaotic and you have to do everything to survive and sometimes you are able to just enjoy the moment. You honestly preferred it this way. Luckily if things got too bad you would just wake up. ''My parents are going to divorce.'' Ice mumbles suddenly. ''I know that I'm an adult now so it shouldn't effect me but still I feel really bad about it. They were never a dream couple and they were always fighting or too busy with their work, but at least they were together. ''I'm sorry.'' You say with sad smile. ''Me too.'' Flower boy says and by your surprise he takes Ice's hand to his. He plants small kiss top of it. ''I hope things get better.'' He says and pink tint began to cover Ice's face. You blush as well. Ice opens his mouth but before he can say anything he disappears with puff of smoke. ''Well that was a buzz killer.'' Flower boy says and turns his eyes towards you. It's quite common that someone disappears in random times. Dream logic, I know. ''Do you want a kiss as well?'' He asks wicked grin playing on his lips. You freeze in surprise when he leans closer to your face. Before he is able to reach your lips you jolt awake. Your cat Bob is sitting top of your stomach meowing in demanding tone. ''Aish! You stupid cat. Are you hungry?'' You say annoyed. You really wanted to have that kiss even if it wasn't real. ''Come on then, lets get something into that belly of yours.''

#bts #bts fanfic #bts ot7 #BTS jimin #BTS jin #BTS jungkook #bts hoseok #bts yoongi #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts au #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

[artlessictoan]

this one’s actually a request I got on the ao3 version of this drabble collection, butch!sak/tomboy!hina coffe shop au! and is this the first coffee shop au I’ve ever done?? I think it might be!

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

It had been a long morning and Hinata desperately needed caffeine.

She’d had to wake up hellishly early – which might’ve been fine if she hadn’t been up until three in the morning desperately trying to finish her thesis in time for her first class – then spent almost an hour being jerked around by the aggressively indifferent receptionist of her school’s laboratory, before learning that the time she had booked for her vital preliminary experiments, had in fact been given to another student and the next available slot wasn’t until the end of the week. Handily throwing a wrench in her entire year’s calendar that she would be trying to work around for months to come.

And, on top of all that, the heavens had opened up the second she stepped outside, releasing several days’ worth of water all at once, leaving her to trudge home through a downpour, or hang out in the waiting room of the lab until it passed.

With the smirking receptionist, who she was too polite to tell to fuck himself, but who she dearly hoped would suffer several minor inconveniences for the rest of the day.

She chose the cold, wet walk instead.

Perhaps it had been a mistake, she could probably have found an empty classroom to quietly study in for an hour or so if she’d tried, but with her mind only lightly tethered to reality in her current state, it was more likely she would’ve just had a cry-nap instead.

It wouldn’t be the first time, but if a lecturer found her like that again, someone was bound to try and contact her father to inform him of her struggles, and he would wield that knowledge like a sledgehammer against her dreams of a career of her own; one without constant parental oversight and criticism.

She was absolutely not going to let that happen. Right now, however, what mattered most was getting out of the rain.

Squinting against the water running off the hood of her coat, she searched for somewhere – anywhere – that she could duck into and while away the time until her next lecture in a few hours. When she spotted a small café tucked away between a derelict bookstore and a corner shop that proudly called itself ‘Cheap-mart’ she didn’t care how dingy it looked, she just threw open the doors and shook herself off like a dog the second she was inside.

The barista leaning against the counter with his head in his hand glanced up at her; she offered him an awkward smile as she tried to brush down her damp hair. He returned with his own smile, one somehow even more awkward than her own, but straightened up and waved her over.

“Welcome, what can I get for you today?”

She didn’t bother to peruse the blackboards painted up behind him. “Black coffee, thank you.” Definitely not a drink that fit her usual tastes – she was more of a tea person – but she was about five seconds from collapsing on the cold, hard floor and wanted as little diluting the terrible, life-giving substance as possible.

If she’d had a syringe with her, she would have injected it directly into her bloodstream.

“Can I interest you in something to eat?” he asked, voice robotic and smile unnaturally fixed in place. “A sandwich, perhaps even one of our homemade cakes?”

The word ‘cake’ immediately caught her fraying attention and she stared into the glass display to scrutinise the options available with the same keen eye she would use for chemical analysis. It was actually quite impressive how… unappetizing they all looked; sponges were wonky, frosting looked like it had been applied with a slingshot, one was painted in the garish colours of a toddler given free reign of the crayon box and they had apparently all been cut with a chainsaw, she had no other explanation for the crumbling edges and uneven slices.

“I’ll have the coffee and walnut.” She glanced back outside, noting that the storm didn’t look like it would be passing any time soon and she had already skipped breakfast. “Actually, make that two slices.”

Dark eyes blinked at her in pure shock, before the man wordlessly fulfilled her order, only breaking his silence to tell her the cost and exchange cash.

She barely noticed, taking her plate and her cup and her sopping bag, she stumbled to the nearest table and sank down into the wooden chair like it was a plush, feather pillow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the barista slipping through a door that presumably led to a kitchen; she might’ve found that a bit unprofessional, if it weren’t for the fact that she was literally the only customer in right now.

As she gulped down half of her coffee – grimacing at the taste, but pushing through it regardless – she wondered if the place was always this quiet. Sure, it was a little out of the way and if she hadn’t been looking for somewhere to escape the weather, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it was even there, but it had a stylish interior, wall painted with abstract ink patterns and rustic furniture.

And, when she shoved a generous forkful of cake into her mouth, she had to wonder even more about how a café with such incredible goods had flown so completely under the radar.

She literally closed her eyes and moaned.

Her fatigue was completely forgotten as she eagerly shovelled another mouthful between her lips, then another, and another. She was onto the second slice in about thirty seconds.

“Holy shit, I didn’t actually believe it…”

Hinata glanced up, absolutely no clue who would be disturbing her mid-meal and, even if her mouth hadn’t been full of soft, melting deliciousness, she probably wouldn’t have been able to say anything.

The short, stocky woman, with arms practically bursting out of the sleeves of her chef’s jacket – which presumably had been white at one point, but was now littered with so many stains in basically every conceivable colour that it was basically tie-dye – pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down heavily, crossing her arms on the table and leaning forwards with a slight frown. “Someone actually bought a cake.”

She was still chewing and had to wash down her bite with a generous gulp of coffee, just to respond.

“Huh?”

Very eloquent. Her father would be proud.

“No one buys the cake, we get about fifteen customers a day, I would remember someone buying the cake before-” she jerked a thumb in the direction of the barista leaning boredly against the counter “-Sai was so shocked he immediately came into the kitchen to tell me about it.”

That a customer actually choosing to eat the food on offer was such an anomaly that the chef had to come out of the kitchen, just to see if it was true, was a damning report on the state of their business. “Really?” she asked, looking down at the slice on her plate. “I can’t imagine why, it’s delicious.”

Dark brows narrowed over her green, green eyes. “Are you making fun of me? Did my mother send you here? Are you an EHO?” The woman was standing up now, leaning ever further into her personal space, flour-covered hands steady on either side of the table. With her face only a few inches away, Hinata could pick out individual pores on her nose and several old, faded scars. “I assure you; all my paperwork is up to date,” she said slowly, in such a low, threatening tone that left Hinata less assured than ever before.

She waved her hands in front of her face and backed away as far as the chair would let her. “I don’t’ know what that means and I came here on my own, I just… really like the cake?”

The speed at which the chef’s entire demeanour switched left Hinata feeling a little dizzy. Suddenly her bright eyes were sparkling and she had a wide, toothy grin stretching across her face as she asked, “For real? Even though it looks like absolute dogshit?”

“Well, as long as it tastes good, I don’t think the appearance really matters that much.” A statement easily reinforced by the fact that she was wearing an old, faded hoodie and some leggings she’d technically bought just for the gym, but were so comfortable that they’d wormed their way into her everyday wardrobe anyway.

Also, she was still soaked through and probably looked like a bedraggled cat, but she was trying to ignore that right now.

“Finally, someone who appreciates my genius!” Slapping a hand against the table hard enough to make it rock on its uneven legs, she turned around to shout at her co-worker, “You hear that Sai?”

“As glad as I am to have a satisfied customer, I would point you to the forty-seven other slices of cake that have been consistently rejected by everyone else who’s come in today.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Hinata got the feeling that he really was trying his best. “You can’t decorate cakes for shit and no one wants to eat them.”

The scoff and dramatic rolling of eyes suggested that this was a regular argument for these two. “Ignore him, he just thinks that he’s a better artist than me-”

“I am an objectively better artist than you.”

“Anyway-” she displayed a middle finger at him over her shoulder, all while keeping her gaze fixed on Hinata “-I’m really glad you like the cake, I know my presentation’s a bit… rough, but I know what tastes good, just wish more people would give it a chance.”

Hinata had to give a wobbly smile at the woman’s childish pout; ohhh she was in trouble. “You do have a talent for flavour, I must admit,” she said, “I think this is the best coffee cake I’ve ever had.”

“Right? I’ve been playing around with some ideas for new recipes- actually wait here a sec, I’ll go cut you off some samples.” She was charging through the door leading to the kitchen before Hinata could object, but, looking at the rain still hammering down against the windows and taking another bite of beautifully soft cake… she could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon than being fed a selection of baked goods by an incredibly handsome woman with biceps that could probably crush steel.

Maybe she could even come up with an excuse to touch them. Just to satisfy her scientific curiosity.

---

By the time the rain had settled down to a slow drizzle, she had completely forgotten everything that led her to the café in the first place, so distracted was she by chatting to the charmingly exuberant chef – who was called Sakura, she quickly learned.

They had shared several slices of experimental cakes and, while none of them looked very pretty, Hinata had been blow away by the taste each and every time.

If her alarm hadn’t started buzzing insistently, she would’ve happily spent the whole day getting lost in sugar and soft pink hair and distractingly shifting muscles and a boisterous, snorting laugh that had absolutely no right being as cute as she found it. Alas, she still had classes that she could not afford to skip and she really shouldn’t keep Sakura from her work for any longer. Even if she didn’t seem to have much to do.

As she gathered her things and pulled on her coat, she glanced down at the woman with a soft smile. “Thank you for all the wonderful food, and conversation.” She rummaged through her bag and drew out her wallet, dropping a few notes in the tip jar as she passed. One benefit to coming from a wealthy family, she afford to be very generous.

Sai grinned at her, slapping a hand over Sakura’s mouth before she could object to the payment – and judging from the look in her bright eyes, that was almost certainly what she was planning.

Rolling her eyes as she pushed his hand away, she leaned over the counter to grin widely at Hinata. “Please, come again!”

“Yes, and bring friends with you next time, as you can see, we’re pretty desperate for business.”

“Idiot, don’t tell that to the customers!” Sakura yelled, slapping a hand to her forehead hard enough to leave a red mark there.

He gave her a Look. “It’s advertising.”

“No, it’s desperation, you better not have been telling that to everyone who comes in here.”

“Are we not desperate?” He asked, voice completely even and reasonable. “Do I have to show you our account books again? Maybe you should focus on trying to find a cake decorating course, before you start criticising me.”

Hinata laughed softly to herself, but not quietly enough that she didn’t catch the attention of both workers. She smiled at the pair, marvelling at their bizarre friendship that she wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of. “I’ll tell everyone I know that the food here is delicious and they need to come try it-” she glanced at Sakura, who was almost glowing at the compliment, and had to duck her head to hide her blush “-and I live pretty close by, I’m sure I’ll be coming in here a lot more too.”

Before she could rush out of the doors, a voice called out to her, “Hey, what’s your favourite kind of cake? I wanna make it for the next time you come here.”

She stopped and had to take several calming breaths before turning around. “Anything with cinnamon,” she said, not wanting to give herself too much hope, but unable to deny the rush of excitement fizzing through her veins at the thought of spending more time – much more time – with the wonderful, strange, charming baker.

Sakura nodded, eyes already sparking with ideas. “Alright, I’ll make you something amazing, you better come back to taste it soon!”

“I will,” she said, stepping out into the damp afternoon, feeling lighter than air and ready to take on the whole world.

---

#ictoan writes #sakuhina #hinasaku #hinata hyuga #sakura haruno #naruto #hinata is Relatable and sakura is a Disaster and all is right with the world

[edgydepressedchoicesthot]

Vaguely Downwards

Summary: “What if,” Eva offers. “All those years ago, we were both doing the right thing? Both of us committing a Falling-From-Grace-level offense, was good. What would you say to that?”

Doubt crosses the angel’s face, and the demon sees her victory.

Good Omens AU.  Eva x F!MC (Lexi Thibaut)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161189

Word Count: 2,210

Notes: The title comes from a line from the book, describing Crowley, or Eva in this fic, as a demon (fallen angel) who “did not so much fall as saunter vaguely downwards”. I tried to make this easy to understand for anyone who's never watched the show or read the book.

Tagging: @marmolady​, @it-lives-in-westchester​

Lexi had only just taken in and savored the aroma of her hot cocoa when the phone starts ringing.

Glancing at the clock, her frown deepens when she sees the time is 1:24 AM.

Who’d call at this hour?

She’d be in bed by now, fast asleep after cocoa and a good book, if it wasn’t for bookstore-related paperwork on top of Heavenly paperwork to deal with.

And there’s…the other issue.

Eyeing the drink, Lexi contemplates taking a small sip before answering the phone, until she realizes the phone is just two rings away from voicemail. It might be important.

She walks hurriedly to the other room, and picks up the bookshop’s office phone.

“Hi, Thibaut’s Antique Books,” she answers. “Sorry, but we’re closed right now, but we’ll be open tomorrow-”

“Angel, it’s me.”

Oh…

So it’s this important.

If she had called any other day, or maybe even five hours earlier, Lexi would be happy to hear the demon’s voice. She’d also, and never admit to, feel her heart flutter just a little. The same flutter she thought she’d eventually get used to and would go away.

Except at the time, all she could feel is a burdening dread weighing down.

“Eva.”

“We need to talk.”

“We do,” Lexi agrees solemnly. “This is about…you know, that?”

“Yeah, that.”

“How soon can you-”

“Hold the phone out.”

“Oh come on, this again?”

“We don’t have any time to waste.”

Sighing, the angel does as the demon asks. In less than a second, Eva travels through the phone lines, and jumps out the speaker of Lexi’s ancient, corded phone.

Agile as a cat, Eva lands on her feet before standing up straight and dusting off something invisible from her black leather jacket.

“We could always just meet up the, you know, normal way,” Lexi suggests, hanging up the phone.

On the back of her mind, she wonders if Eva used a cell phone that some random passer-by will find where the demon left it.

Maybe a payphone, where the next user will be annoyed to see it out of its cradle hook, none the wiser as to what the phone was just used for.

Well, at least she didn’t come on her motorcycle.

“What would you have us do, meet in a park and talk while feeding ducks?” Eva scoffs, adjusting her sunglasses and tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. “That’s only for British secret agents and old married couples.”

  ----------------------------------

“Seventh day not going well?”

The angel turns her head to her left to see a demon, halfway through shifting from her snake form.

The demon responsible for all this trouble, the angel catches herself in a bitter thought.

The Angel of Eden’s Northern Gate just keeps her eyes on Adam and Eve, recently banished from the Garden. The first humans get smaller and smaller as they leave their old home behind.

“Look at them go,” the demon drawls while stretching her wings.

“Admiring your handiwork?” the angel asks warily.

“You’re no fun,” the demon sighs. “They just sent me up here, telling me to cause some trouble. Personally, I don’t really know what’s so bad about…you know, knowing the difference between good and bad?”

“It must be bad,” the angel insists. “Why else would it have been forbidden?”

The demon just shrugs.

“If the great and powerful Almighty didn’t want the humans eating from the tree, then why put the tree in the dead center of the Garden? You know, where it’s easy to get to? Or better yet, just…don’t have the tree at all!”

“Well…” at a loss for words, the angel is silent for a while.

“Makes you wonder what’s going through God’s head sometimes…” the demon continues.

“That’s not for us to understand,” the angel says firmly. “God’s plan is beyond any of us.”

“Oh, yeah,” the demon rolls her snakelike eyes. “What’s the word they’ve been using? ‘Ineffable’?”

“Well it is! It is ineffable!”

“Whatever you say.”

  ----------------------------------

“Anyway, down to business,” Eva waves off. “You’ve heard the news, right? I delivered the Antichrist a few hours ago. And you know, given a few years, what happens next, right?”

“Armageddon,” Lexi nods grimly.

“Yup. Minus any post-apocalyptic fun you get in the movies.”

“What movies? I haven’t watched a movie since 1896.”

“Never mind - wait, is that the one with the train?” Eva asks.

“Yup, that one!”

“The only movie you ever watched was the first movie ever?”

“I…never mind, back on topic. You’re absolutely sure it was the Antichrist…?”

“Pretty sure. The ones who handed me the baby said me it was the Antichrist. The demons handed me the kid, I went and delivered it to the folks Head Office picked, and that was that.”

“But, you know, demons do lie…” Lexi says, looking apologetic.

Eva shakes her head.

“Not about this. Never about this. The last demon who caused trouble about something Apocalypse-related got torn apart. Publicly. It was mandatory to watch.”

“Right…”

“Right.”

“So how long do we have?” Lexi asks.

“Eleven years,” Eva answers. “They figured that’s mature enough to end the world.”

“Well,” Lexi sighs. “That’s it then.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’? That’s it. We’ve got eleven years here left.”

“Don’t give me that, we’ve got to do something!”

“‘Do something’? Eva, are you actually saying what I think you are?”

“Yeah. We. Stop. Armageddon.”

“We can’t do that!” Lexi hisses.

“Why not? We’ve gotten away with a lot more-”

“This is different!” she insists. “We got away with what we got away with because all the times we’ve worked together happened to get us both what we wanted. What our Head Offices wanted. This…this is directly going against the Divine Plan!”

“Angel, come on,” Eva presses. “You don’t want the world to end, do you?

“No, but-”

“Then help me stop it! We can do something, I’ve already got an idea.”

“I don’t know, Eva…”

The two stood in silence for a moment.

“Alright, let’s go get a drink then,” Eva starts. “I’m buying.”

Lexi gives her a confused look.

“With stolen money?”

“…Okay, some rich guy’s buying. It’s nothing he’ll miss.”

Lexi frowns admonishingly.

“It’s kinda late…”

“You’re calling this ‘late’?” Eva asks incredulously, checking her watch. “The night’s just getting started!”

“For you, maybe,” Lexi sighs. “Not all of us lurk around in the dead of night.”

“Hey, this demon doesn’t lurk,” Eva laughs. “Come on, I owe you a drink from England.”

“Heh, right,” a smirk plays on Lexi’s lips. “The whole Edgewater incident.”

“Yeah, after all that ‘good’ and ‘justice’, and all that other cheesy stuff you were preaching about?”

“There’s nothing cheesy about doing what’s right…okay, that does sound a bit cheesy to me, and I’m an angel…” Lexi admits, surprised at the mirth in her laugh.

After all these centuries, Eva was still able to make her anxiety melt away like snow in the sun…

“Oh don’t worry,” Eva coos, smirking as she takes a step closer to the angel. “It’s adorable.”

…And make her blush like a bride on her wedding day.

“Fine,” Lexi sighs. “One drink.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“This time I mean it!”

“Whatever you say.”

  ----------------------------------

“Didn’t you used to have a flaming sword?”

“Oh…uh, well…”

“What happened to it? Lose it or something?”

“N-no! I, um…”

“You lost it, didn’t-”

“Ahgavitaweh.”

“Mmm?”

“I gave it away!”

“…Wait, what?”

“I gave it away, does that satisfy you?! The nights are going to be freezing, there are all kinds of dangerous creatures out there, and she’s already expecting! So, if you have to know, I gave away my flaming sword…what?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Nothing, nevermind.”

“…I just hope I did the right thing…”

  ----------------------------------

“You remember when we first met?” Eva asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“Can’t exactly forget the Original Sin,” Lexi chuckles, eyeing the Irish Coffee that Eva ordered her.

After hearing the angel mourn her now-freezing cocoa, the demon decided to order what she called the “alcoholic equivalent” for the angel.

“You drink it, not the other way around,” Eva jokes. “Try it. If it’s not good I’ll order you something else.”

“How’s yours? What was it called again?”

“A Sazerac. Product of the Prohibition.”

“Ah, okay. Was the Prohibition one of yours or one of ours?”

“Who remembers,” Eva waves off. “There was so much good and bad all through human history I can’t remember who did what.”

Lexi scowls, which has no right looking as cute as it does, but doesn’t say anything. Eva continues after taking a small swig.

“But then that’s another thing. How would we know for sure if we were doing good or bad? Only humans know that.”

“Yeah,” Lexi rolls her eyes. “You made sure of that.”

“I mean it helps, right? Don’t you remember how you were worrying about giving away your flaming sword?”

“That’s different,” Lexi insists.

“How?” Eva challenges.

“I don’t know, okay? And I don’t like any of this world-ending stuff either,” Lexi finally takes a sip from her drink, and a rather aggressive one at that.

The angel coughs like a human that had her first whiskey on her 21st birthday, and wipes away a mustache of her drink’s cream. All things that Eva would tease her mercilessly on, just to see Lexi give cute pouts, if the angel didn’t look as distressed as she did now.

“I can’t just…interfere with the Divine Plan,” Lexi continues. “After all these centuries, I still don’t know if what I did at the Garden was good or bad, but this? Eva, I’m sorry but…I just can’t.”

The two sit in silence for a minute. Eva shifts glances from her drink to Lexi.

Lexi doesn’t want Armageddon to happen. And if she thought she could do something about it, then she would.

She just needs a little push.

“What if,” Eva offers. “All those years ago, we were both doing the right thing? Both of us committing a Falling-From-Grace-level offense, was good. What would you say to that?”

Doubt crosses the angel’s face, and the demon sees her victory.

“And if it’s good, then it’s gotta be a part of the Divine Plan, right?”

“I…guess?”

“And if you can’t go against the Divine Plan, then what about Diabolical Plans? What if, by stopping my plan, then you’d be following the Divine Plan?”

“…What exactly are you getting at?”

“That’s where my idea comes in,” Eva grins. “The Antichrist was just born, but how the kid’s gonna get raised is another thing. If a certain demon was going to be an evil influence in the kid’s life growing up, then it wouldn’t be helpful for her if a certain, heroic, beautiful, dashing angel-”

“Okay okay, you’re point?” Lexi goes red and Eva restrains that laugh bubbling up to a smirk.

“If a certain angel came to the world’s rescue and made sure the demon failed. Made sure the Antichrist grows up good.”

“Well,” Eva saw the gears turning in Lexi’s head. “Heaven wouldn’t object to that…”

“Exactly. If we do everything right, the kid won’t be evil, and won’t have any reason to bring about the End Times. We’re both good with our Home Offices…everybody wins!”

“Huh,” a smile breaks across Lexi’s face as she lets out a small, hopeful laugh. “This might actually work.”

“So, what do you say?” Eva asks. “Do we have a plan?”

A broad smile breaks across Lexi’s face.

“Yeah. We definitely do.”

“To the world,” Eva lifts up her drink.

Lexi returns the demon’s toast.

“To the world.”

----------------------------------

“Well,” the demon shifts. “You’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”

To the demon’s surprise, the angel smiles gratefully, looking like a big weight was taken off her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she laughs, a bit weakly. “You’re kind for saying that, I’ve been worrying about it all day.”

They stand in silence, and the demon can still make out Adam and Eve, two small dots now, in the distance.

“And what if I did the right thing with the whole ‘eat the apple’ business?” the demon asks. “A demon could get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.”

The angel’s face flickers with confusion.

“That’d be funny, wouldn’t it,” the demon chuckles, but the angel looks horrified.

“No! That wouldn’t be funny at all!”

“Right…”

Loud, booming noises that the demon never heard before sound from above, and she thinks that it’s the Almighty herself until the angel speaks.

“First storm ever. Water, dark clouds, and electricity make for a loud combination,” the angel lifts her left wing. “Here.”

The demon’s about to ask what the angel’s doing, but her question’s answered when small pellets of water start hitting the ground.

“My hero,” the she jokes as she gets under the angels wing, even though she’s a bit confused.

The angel gives a small smile as red dusts her cheeks. Her brown eyes shift from the direction Adam and Eve headed and the greyed skies.

The demon’s eyes don’t leave the angel.

#playchoices #hero #eva #eva x mc #fic #my fics #fanfiction #au #good omens fusion #choices hero

[ineffably-good]

Have a Little Faith In Me (3/3)

Summary: In which Crowley finally puts a ring on it and is rewarded with... a magic trick?

Chapter 2 is here

For all his teasing about competing, Aziraphale knew that Crowley wanted to be the one to make the declaration and proposal, and that was fine with him. Crowley had waited for him all these years, he thought; the least he could do was wait back while Crowley figured out what to do and how to do it, to usher them into the next stage in their relationship.

That didn’t stop him, however, from making life as pleasant as possible for the demon. Over the next few weeks, he took care to spoil Crowley a little. Some actions were tiny, such as using a small miracle to leave his pajamas warmed up for him next to the bed in the mornings, or having his coffee perfectly prepared and steaming hot the moment he came down the stairs. Some were larger, like treating him to a variety of surprise trips out into the countryside and getting him fitted for a new suit to wear to Anathema and Newt’s wedding, which was coming up in a few weeks. All in all, he did his best to make the demon feel loved and appreciated as much as he was able – and when one was an angel, turning one’s full angelic power to such a mission carried quite a wallop.

Crowley, for his part, showed no outward signs of his plans, but inside his thoughts were racing. He ran through and eliminated a variety of ways of proposing as too predictable, too boring, too ordinary. He briefly considered the Ritz and popping the ring into a dessert – but honestly, it had been done a hundred thousand times, and with his luck Aziraphale would just swallow it, and the Heimlich would certainly cut into the romance. He considered a hot air balloon, writing it in the sky from an airplane, and shouting it from the top of a mountain. None of these felt quite correct. He needed something that was completely unique to his angel, the one being in all the universe that he could ever have fallen for, and who had somehow miraculously fallen for him too.

It wasn’t until one day when he was restlessly looking through some of his old boxes he’d never fully unpacked, that he remembered something he’d forgotten for several centuries.

And with that, a plan appeared. Now he just needed the right moment.

Read the rest on Ao3 or click below to keep reading!

++

It was on the drive back, late at night, from Anathema and Newt’s small, lovely, handfasting ceremony that the moment began to feel right. Crowley, resplendent in his new, slim cut, charcoal gray suit took a peek over at the angel beside him, who was looking ridiculously happy and content and just the slightest bit tipsy on leftover champagne, and began to think seriously about just asking him now.

Aziraphale, sensing his regard, smiled at him and reached over to lay a hand on his thigh.

“My dear, you looked absolutely gorgeous tonight,” the angel said. “You should wear that suit more often.”

Crowley smiled. “I could do that,” he said, “for you.”

No, Crowley thought, abandoning the plan to just pull over and spill the words out – please marry me -- and, with them, his heart, all over the front seat of the car. Back home first. Keep to the plan. He suddenly felt intensely nervous in a way he hadn’t expected, and he sucked in a breath more harshly and audibly than he’d intended.

Aziraphale glanced over at him in concern. “Are you feeling well? You look a little drawn around the edges.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “M’fine!” he mumbled. “Just concentrating. Dark out here.”

“It’s always dark at night,” Aziraphale said reasonably. “Your eyes are made for darkness.”

Crowley shrugged and leaned forward to stab on the radio, hoping for something to cover the sudden awkwardness. Luckily, they landed on some rather good music, and Aziraphale rolled down his window to enjoy the night air, and he never once mentioned the truly record-breaking level of speed they achieved on the way back to London.

 ++

“You sober?” Crowley asked as they made their way into the bookstore.

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “I think so,” he said, doubtful. “Or nearly so. Should we fix that with more alcohol?”

Crowley grinned. “We will,” he said. “In the meantime, just sit down on the couch and relax. I’m going to grab a bottle I’ve been saving.”

He heard the angel puttering around at the desk for a minute, and then he settled on the couch in happy anticipation. Crowley went to the kitchen and made just enough fumbling-around-in-cupboards noises to buy a few minutes of time to compose himself. Were his hands shaking? Demon hands weren’t supposed to shake.

Pull it together, he told himself. This is important. Do not fuck this up.

He took several deep breaths, despite having no true need for them, and set about gathering the things he required.

“Ah there you are!” Aziraphale said when he finally emerged, bearing a bottle and two of their nicer glasses. “I thought perhaps you’d gotten lost somewhere!”

Crowley set the bottle down on the table, the crystal goblets beside it, and gave Aziraphale a quelling look. “Sit tight. Need a couple more things.”

Aziraphale looked mystified, but he complied.

Crowley went into the back room and came back with a large paper envelope, which he put on the floor as he sat down close to the angel. Then, he looked around frowning, to see if the ambiance was right.

The ambiance, he thought, was not at all special enough. He snapped his fingers, putting soft music on the gramophone. He took one last look around and thought something was still missing. It came to him in a flash.

“This,” he said to the angel in a no-nonsense-will-be-brooked tone, “is absolutely a one-time-only event; don’t get any ideas.”

And with that he snapped and willed a handful of candles into existence around the shop, all lit. The shop lights dimmed a bit to allow the candlelight to be better appreciated.

Aziraphale gasped. “Candles? Oh, how lovely!” He peered more closely at Crowley. “Are you sure you’re all right? You made it quite clear I was never to light a candle in this shop again.”

Crowley ignored him and poured them each a nice glass of wine. “I’m fine,” he said firmly, “and they’re just for tonight.”

“Are we celebrating something?” the angel asked, rather shyly. He took a sip and murmured appreciatively at the fantastic Bordeaux the demon had produced.  

“Perhaps,” Crowley said, leaving his own wine untouched. He could barely remember how to breathe at the moment, not to mention drink something. “Have a present for you, anyway.”

He opened the envelope at his feet and passed a battered-looking leather folio across the couch to Aziraphale.

Crowley had made a habit, over the centuries, of presenting Aziraphale on occasion with the crème de la crème of the rare book world – obscure scrolls, editions of old plays, original manuscripts, author’s  notebooks. He had used them to wile his angel, delight him when he’s been sad, and, on at least one occasion, to offer an intense and heart-felt apology for a wrong he’d committed.

It had been, by his count, something like eighty years since the last time he did so. Long enough that it took Aziraphale a moment to process what he was seeing, before a look of delight broke out across his face. The angel knew from centuries of experience that whatever was in there would be thoughtful and intriguing. He ran a finger over the front edge of the cover.

“For me?” he asked, lashes fluttering. “Oh, you darling boy, what have you found for me this time?”

Crowley motioned that he should go ahead, and then lounged back on his end of the couch and waited with his hands in his suit pockets.

Aziraphale opened it carefully and found a single sheet of parchment inside, inscribed with looping handwriting in faded iron gall ink. He fidgeted around to hold it a little closer to the light, read the first line or two, and then looked up in utter shock.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said slowly. “What is this? I know this handwriting. This is – why, it can’t possibly be – is it – “

Crowley smiled at him like the cat who ate the canary. “Yes, it is.”

“This is Will’s handwriting!” Aziraphale breathed. “William Shakespeare! What on earth! Where did you get this?”

“Well, I got it from the man himself,” Crowley said, grinning. “Commissioned it, even. Long time ago. 1605, to be exact.”

Aziraphale stopped reading and pushed his glasses up to his forehead. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if his brain might explode. He honestly didn’t know whether to be amazed or affronted on behalf of the literary community as a whole. “You – you’ve – you have had an unpublished, and if I’m not mistaken, completely unknown Shakespearean sonnet in your possession for four centuries? No one in the whole world knows of its existence?”

“Just you and me,” Crowley said happily, enjoying the sight of the angel’s complicated reaction: shock, happiness, outrage, joy, befuddlement, and intense, intense possessiveness of that little piece of paper. The angel was cradling it like a newborn babe, like it was the most precious piece of paper in the whole world.

At the moment, it just might be.

“But why?” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “Why would you keep something like this from the world? It’s a priceless literary treasure!”

“Because,” the demon said simply, “it was for you.”

Aziraphale blinked at him, struggling to understand. Then he blinked some more. His hand, holding the parchment, was shaking slightly.

“And you’ve had it all this time? Just, what, sitting in a drawer?”

“I didn’t need it until now,” Crowley said, gently. “Please, just stop with the interrogation and read it.”

Aziraphale took a deep and shaky breath and shifted his focus to the parchment in front of him. It took him a few tries to still his hands enough to be able to make out the words. When he finally succeeded, he read the first few lines aloud in a tremulous voice.

Since looking upon thee in the garden day Upon thy side against myself I’ll fight For life no longer than thy love will stay To steal sweet hours from thy love’s delight…

Aziraphale looked up, eyes full of tears, and his voice was hushed. “You commissioned a love sonnet for me, four hundred and fifteen years ago?”

Crowley tried to swallow the suddenly huge lump in his throat. “I did.”

Aziraphale, voice simply not working anymore, stared at him for a long moment, and then leaned down to read the rest quietly. He sat in stunned silence after, lost to everything around him, and then he read it again. And again a final time.

“It’s – it’s –” he faltered, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and drowning out all sound around him. For once, the angel was unable to find a single word.

When he looked up, dazed, Crowley had moved from his spot beside him, and was now kneeling on the floor in front of him, his golden eyes impossibly warm.  

“Angel,” Crowley said, “I knew four hundred and fifteen years ago that I loved you. I knew six thousand years ago, to be honest. It’s the one thing I’ve known from the start. Took me a while to accept it, took you a while too, but here we are, together finally, on no one’s side but our own.”

Aziraphale watched, spellbound, as the demon reached into his pocket and pulled out something shiny and small.

“Would you please do me the immense honor,” Crowley said, looking suddenly very pale, “of marrying me and making me the happiest demon alive? Or possibly the only happy demon?”

In his hand was a small gold ring, with a smoky, ancient diamond in the center, cut in ways they didn’t cut them anymore, and with the faintest etching of a snake chased around the edges of the stone. It was old and simple and perfectly, utterly the best thing the angel had ever seen.

Aziraphale, unable to even speak, nodded helplessly, and Crowley slipped the ring onto his finger, where it fit perfectly because it knew better than to not do so. Aziraphale admired it for a moment, then leaned in to run a hand down Crowley’s face.

“I love you,” he whispered, and then pressed a kiss to his forehead, his temple, and finally his mouth.

Several minutes later, when they broke for a breath they didn’t need, Aziraphale took a moment to examine the ring more closely.

“Like it?” Crowley asked.

“I adore it,” Aziraphale said, still a little stunned. “It’s just… I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, please just tell me it doesn’t actually light up, does it?”

Crowley laughed. “No, angel,” he said. “It doesn’t. You’ll just have to wave it around obnoxiously whenever you have an admirer.”

“I can do that,” Aziraphale said. He rather relished the idea, actually.

Crowley got up from his perch on the floor and sat next to him on the couch, as close as it was possible to be to his angel. Aziraphale sighed happily and leaned into his side.

“My dear,” he said, “that was lovely and perfect! But one thing is missing, I think.”

Crowley frowned. What had he missed? He had the music, the candles, the big and utterly unique romantic gesture, the candles, the ring, the bloody candles…

Aziraphale tutted a little at the demon’s obvious discomfort and turned  to face Crowley a little more fully, tucking one knee under himself. He placed a hand on either side of Crowley’s face and pulled him in for a gentle kiss between the brows, then leaned back and snapped his fingers beside one of Crowley’s temples.

“What’s this?” he said theatrically, a soft but still mischievous smile on his lips. “Why, what do we have here?” He made a little flourish with his hands and pulled them back from Crowley’s head bearing something the demon couldn’t make out. “I do believe I found something in your ear, my dear.”

Crowley groaned. “I can’t believe you’re doing magic tricks during my proposal. If that’s a coin, I’m taking the ring back.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Our proposal,” he said, smiling his most radiant smile. “And anyways, you’re missing the point.”

The angel picked up one of Crowley’s hands and opened it carefully, laying something inside it and wrapping the demon’s fingers carefully around it.

“I picked this up for you,” the angel said, “because I want the world to know that you’re engaged to me, too. Would you please wear this for me, my love? I mean, if you like it…”

Crowley opened his hand carefully and looked down. It was a ring, cool and platinum, wider than Aziraphale’s, with black diamonds spaced around it at even intervals and light brushstrokes that looked a little like feathers between them. It was simple and modern and utterly the demon’s style.

“Ngk—” the demon said, then closed his mouth and tried again. “You… you got me a ring, too?”

“Yes of course I did,” Aziraphale said fondly. “Been carrying it with me for months, just in case. Didn’t want to not have it on hand when you finally asked me.”

The angel plucked it out of Crowley’s hand and slipped it on his ring finger. Crowley tried to admire it but he suddenly found he couldn’t see at all because of the immense amount of wetness in his eyes.

Abandoning all pretense of cool, he leaned into Aziraphale and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“There, there,” the angel said, petting his hair and shoulders. “I’ve got you, Crowley. I love you. I have you.” He hugged the demon tightly and thought about all of the straightforward routes and winding paths and wrong turns and backpedals and absolute roadblocks and immense leaps forward that had brought them here over six millennia’s time, about the love and the friendship and the shared experience and the slow march of time that had brought them closer and closer.

“I’ve always got you,” he repeated softly to the demon who even now could hardly accept being loved so deeply. “Always.” . . THE END

Read the whole story on Ao3

#good omens #good omens fics #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #aziraphale x crowley #marriage proposal #put a ring on it #magic tricks #serpent and the seagull series #serpent and the seagull #lots of notes at the end on AO3