#i had a sudden urge to colour a drawing

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Susan Pevensie

I enjoyed writing this one so much. I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!

.

Susan’s cheeks hurt.

She smiles at the boy as he throws an arm around her and winks, and she feels the muscles of her face ache with the effort of holding a smile for hours and hours on end. She wants to shrug off the black-haired boy’s arm, wants to tell him to piss off and not bother her again lest she ask Peter to ensure his distance from her with violence, but she simply smiles at him.

She straightens her spine and smiles.

She ignores the glares her female classmates are throwing at her from all corners of the classroom. She is beautiful, she knows she is, but that does not mean he enjoys being the nectar to the bees that are the hormonal, idiotic boys of Westbrook. She has never enjoyed being known for her beauty, for it has always been nothing but a miserable curse— three wars had been fought for her hand in marriage over the course of twenty years, and Edmund has sometimes called her Helen of Troy for her troubles.

She hates that fucking name.

Her cheeks hurt. Yet, she smiles her most charming smile as she subtly leans away from Raymond— she has heard of the way he treats girls, and she has no interest in being one of his thrice-damned conquests. She has no interest in being a challenge, a trophy to be earned, a thing to be owned. She is to be respected, dammit, she is smart and keen-eyed and knowledgeable. Heaven’s sake, she is a Queen—

She breathes. Pushes the thought out of her mind. Maintains her smile.

Raymond smirks back, dull greyish blue eyes glinting like a broken steel sword in the sunlight that streams in through the windows, and tries to draw her closer to him using the arm that he has around her shoulder. Susan does not deign to move. She does not bother to pretend that she is not stronger than this arrogant youngling, this boy playing at being a man, and simply sits there, unmoving and seemingly oblivious, until he furrows his eyebrows and stops trying to move her without her permission.

Her cheeks hurt.

“C’mon, Pevensie,” he leers at her, and she stops herself from lifting a hand to her back. Five and a half years, and she still hasn’t forgotten the phantom presence of her quiver full of arrows, her bow made of the finest wood covered in intricate carvings.

“Say yes, darling,” he says, and she smiles so that she does not try to stab. “The party would be boring without the prettiest girl in school there.”

Susan has heard that compliment fall from the lips of powerful Kings and lovesick fools alike, and she has never been affected by it. Raymond falls into the third category of the people who have called her pretty, the one where they simply want to be known as the one who broke the prettiest girl’s heart, who claimed the love of the Beauty of Narnia—

She breathes in. Pushes the thought out of her mind. Maintains her smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that, Raymond,” she says in the smoothest, most convincing one that she can muster, and she does not fail to notice the way boys and girls alike sway towards her just to listen to her speak. She ignores the way her heart hums at being listened to, a song she has tried (and failed) to forget for five and a half years. “Parties aren’t really my fancy, you see.”

Raymond waves a hand lazily, and Susan wants to scoff at how far the action is from the effortlessness she is sure he wants to portray. He is an arrogant airbag of a boy with an inflated sense of importance playing at being a powerful man. “Oh, now we both know you’re lying, my darling.”

Susan feels the sudden urge to cut off his tongue, for daring to refer to him as his darling. Instead, she folds her hands in her lap and laughs softly, notices the way the students gathered around laugh with her as if following her lead. Her throat feels tight and her eyes burn, and she pushes both feelings away.

“No, I’m telling the truth,” she says, laughter colouring her words in just the right amount that tells everyone that they are welcome to laugh along and sure enough, they do. They do not take their eyes off of her, and follow her unspoken command by laughing along. She ignores the strange warmth that settles behind her heart in her chest. “I get too tired at parties, they’re too much for me.”

She loves parties. She has loved parties for ages and ages, since she was a nine-year-old child and she dressed up to let her father take her and mum out for dancing, and then a twenty-something year old Queen dressed in the finest silks and talking circles around Princes enchanted by her beauty and Kings madly in love with her—

She breathes in. Pushes the thought out of her mind. Maintains her smile.

Raymond’s arm tightens around her shoulders. Susan’s fingers twitch, but she forcefully presses her hand into her lap to stop herself from reaching for the quiver that no longer hangs from her back. There is no quiver. There is no bow. She is a schoolgirl, not an archer. She has textbooks in the bag that hangs from her back. She is a schoolgirl.

“Oh, be a sport, Pevensie,” Raymond scoffs, and Susan wants to rise to her full height and demand that he treat her with the respect she deserves. “It’s just one party, and it’s the first party of term. C’mon, you can even be my date.”

Susan ignores the way the glares are once again aimed at her, ignores the disgust that roils in her stomach, and masterfully stops her smile from curving into a disdainful sneer. An arrogant boy playing at being a powerful man, who wishes that she would clamour for his love. Ha. She has seen many thousands of men just like him.

Many thousands of men trying to seem more important than they are, vying for her attention, looking to claim her, looking to own her, aiming for her throne and her kingdom—

All of them learnt to fear her over time.

All of them learnt over time that she was not just Beauty. They learnt that she was not just respected for her looks. They learnt, over time, that she was Beauty and Brains and Brawn. She was beautiful, she was the peacekeeper, and she was the most talented archer in all the known lands. She was a dangerous enemy to make, and despite her preference for non-violence, would not hesitate to hand out gruesome and painful deaths if needed.

Susan is Gentle, not Harmless.

Men learnt over time, in Narnia, and so will Raymond learn it in England.

She straightens her spine and gently shrugs off Raymond’s arm. He tries to move it back to its former place, and she stares at him with a smile she knows looks too wide and too sharp, making him stop halfway through his movement. That is one good thing that comes out of being truly beautiful— Beauty, true Beauty, is terrifying. It is deadly. It is something that a simple human cannot help but be bewitched by, and Susan knows this. She has known this for decades. She has successfully used this piece of knowledge to her kingdom’s benefit time and again.

Raymond does not try to throw his arm over her shoulder again, and Susan makes sure her smile goes back to its most charming as she engages the rest of the students.

“I will have to decline your.. generous offer,” she says, laying the sarcasm on so thinly that only Edmund would have noticed.

Alas, her dearest younger brother is not here to witness her exercise her power over her classmates. If he were, he would have enjoyed watching them move to her word like mice moved to the Pied Piper’s tune. He is absurd like that, but who is she to deny him his entertainment?

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she sighs as she pushes herself off the desk and stands to her full, impressive height. She brushes her hands over her skirt, takes her water bottle from a boy with a soft smile that has him blushing bright red, and waves to everyone. Without saying a word more, she walks out of the classroom with her head held high and her shoulders pulled back.

Her cheeks hurt.

She walks in silence, ignoring the students that mill around in the corridors of the school. The girl’s bathroom is on the floor above, and it takes her barely a minute to reach it; people clear a way for her, moving out of her path as she walks with measured and careful steps. They do it almost without noticing that they are, almost like a force is making them do it.

Susan locks the door of the bathroom behind her, takes a good look around to make sure she is alone, and bursts into silent tears.

She drops her bag to the floor and leans her back against the door, screwing her eyes shut and letting the tears run down her cheeks and drip off her jaw. Her chest heaves with quiet sobs, and she sucks in shuddering breaths as she slides down to sit on the floor with her head buried between her knees. The warmth behind her heart turns into a painful burning sensation, and she chokes on her tears and emotions that she cannot fully understand.

No matter how much she tries to bury her memories behind smiles that sway the students, no matter how much she tries to forget, she knows what she is. She knows what she always was, and what she always will be.

She is Queen Susan the Gentle of Narnia, the Eagle-Eyed Marksman Queen, Second of the Beloved Four, Defender of the People.

#susan pevensie #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #lww #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #amrut writes #the pevensies #pevensie siblings #my gods i adore susan so much #lmk what you think! #matching misfortunes #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie

[leggerefiore]

Weavile!Cyrus's reaction to his S/O making little handicrafts with his shed fur? 🥺

cw: fluff, Weavile Cyrus

Cyrus felt confused after he saw you picking up some of his fallen for. Naturally, he tried to keep everything tidy and pick up after himself, but you seemed to notice it faster than him. He would have thought nothing of it had you taken it to the bin to toss it, yet you did not. No, instead, you put it into a basket. It was something he would normally look past, not having the urge to waste precious time and energy on such foolish things. But, he felt curious. Why? His fur was not something he felt was something worthy to be collected.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low and quiet, with the usual tone of complete seriousness. You jumped at his sudden closeness.

“Cyrus!” your voice held a slightly upset tone, “I was collecting some of your fur.” The Weavile hybrid cocked a brow up. That was actually what you were doing. Why? He simply could not understand why you would do such a thing. You let out a sigh. “I know, I know, this seems like it's going into scary hair-collecting obsessive lover, but I'm actually using it to make yarn,” you explained awkwardly, “It's really good at holding in warmth so it's been good for handling the cool weather around the time of year.”

Somehow, you had managed to bewilder him even more. Yarn? You were using it to make things? He felt confused. “… You've made things?” Cyrus finally asked, allowing himself this simply curiosity. You nodded eagerly in reply and walked over to a draw beside the couch to pull out something. He stared at the dark blue gloves in your hands.

“Yep! This is one I finished, but I actually am working on a cap right now, and I'm trying to collect enough for a scarf, too,” you smiled at him. Something odd panged in his heart at the thought of you wearing his fur. He had always despised his status as a hybrid and was simply annoyed by all the set-backs being one had granted him. His fur especially was something that caused immense distaste within him. You, however… You wearing something made from his fur made him feel oddly warm inside.

“… I see,” he nodded. There was no point in stopping you. Hobbies were healthy, after all, and it seemed like a good way to prevent his fur from being entirely useless. “Are you attempting to subtly ask me to give you my fur sheddings?” Cyrus stared at you.

“Please,” you begged him suddenly, catching one of his hands in between your own, “Your fur is just such a pretty colour, and I love its texture…” He sighed. There was no way he could tell you no when you looked at him with such pleading eyes.

“Do as you will,” Cyrus turned away from you to recover himself, “… I'll leave my shedding around the house to you.”

Your big, warm smile nearly melted him. Unfortunately, the sudden heat consuming his body was probably dangerous for an ice-type.

~

“I'm going to make you a sweater,” you later told him.

“… Wouldn't that be redundant? My fur already covers my body.”

“You shiver.”

“Must you bring that up?”

“Fine, I'll cuddle you constantly instead.”

#cyrus.ima

[mightymizora]

you know im about to ask about my FAVE the portrait!!!!!!! difficult to choose a single passage but i want to hear details about this from the end, the dawning horror mixed with sudden inspiration is so haunting!!!!!

Her eyes meet his, and she smiles. He is frozen in place, lost in those eyes. How to capture that look? How to find the ways to paint behind the soft colours into what seems to be lurking beneath in her stare, a pit of something that draws him further and further down? He feels like he may fall into her, carried away into something that is… that seems not quite real.

As if she is not a person at all.

“You need to look closer,” comes Lord Gortash’s voice from the canvas. “I thought better of you, young Guy. Come here, and look at your work.”

Ahh thank you! I am still very proud of how it turned out, I'm glad people liked it.

Answering this director's cut question... about my fics!

So I've always been quite interested in the idea of The Dark Urge not actually being of the race which they're born into. Unlike Bhaalspawn born of Bhaal's mortal time on earth, The Dark Urge is purely of him and sort of divinely shaped into their mortal form, and I find that so interesting. A cuckoo in the nest. (going under the cut for more fic specific thoughts!)

Gortash sees it, and is very turned on by it because of course he is. A living weapon, a divine spark of malice turned into flesh? Irresistible. In this reading he is obsessed with the idea of trying to capture it somehow, to place it within his reach, and that in part is his reason for getting the portrait painted, so that he may own the only image of her in the world. That's very key to their dynamic, I think. He wants to capture the creature that is The Dark Urge inside glass, wants it to live even if it would die in captivity. She wants to consume him, his mind and his words and his charm and the softness in his eyes when he looks at her, but also could not bear a life without him by her side. There's some to-and-fro between him and Manva earlier, where she agrees to indulge his whims but is also furious at him and herself for pushing against her iconoclast tendencies. She's superstitious, thinking that a painting steals a part of somebody's soul, and in a non-literal sense she is right. Gortash owning this is taking something of her and placing it squarely in his world.

He is hopeful that a man with the talent of Guy will be able to do it justice, because he sees in Guy a shimmer of himself, of his own curiosities and passions. And he's not wrong to see it! We don't have a lot of time with him, but I hope it comes across that Guy is not so perfect. He's ambitious, he's so driven by his need to be the greatest that he takes ridiculous risks. He is envious of those who are not so driven, who have enough talent to get by and no great obsessive need to be the best, like Litton and to a lesser extent Darcus. He is driven to be the best because unlike either of them he cannot afford not to be, much like Gortash. If circumstances had been different, perhaps he would have been a darling protégée, but as it is there was only one way it could end.

Last point - the line of him needing to look closer is mirroring a statement at the top of the fic, when Guy asks Gortash how he wants to capture the subject, where he states he only wants him to capture her as she is. He's looking for an artist who can see the monster that lurks beneath, and is as intrigued and turned on by it as he is. And he finds him in Guy, who spends what is left of his time desperately trying to capture it as his great work.

Edit: okay not quite last point because I also wanted to point out that the final part is intended to be erotic for all parties too. He finds a strange enticing beauty in the ugliness within Manva, he finds himself drawn to Gortash at the Banite gathering, and they are all three in the throws of their individual passions at the end; power, blood, and beauty.

#thank you for this ask! #manva warhelm #enver gortash #a lot of love went into that one lmao #the dark urge #the dark urge’s divinity is so interesting to me

[newobsessioneveryweek]

Oo what is business as usual and sex, drugs, rock and roll 👀👀👀👀

I'm so glad you asked!

Here is an excerpt of Business As Usual for your viewing pleasure (unfortunately I haven't actually written anything for SD&RnR but I'll explain a little bit of what I'm thinking)

Excerpt start

“What are you reading?” came a sudden, soft voice. Loki turned to meet Hogun’s passive face. He was riding beside him. If he had been there the whole time Loki hadn’t noticed.

“Shapeshifting and Illusions,” he replied cooly, banishing the book to his pocket dimension. Hogun’s sudden interest was not unwelcome, just odd- his choosing to talk even odder. “Have you read it?” Loki asked dumbly. He would bet good money that no one in this group had ever glanced at let alone picked up a spell book, especially one that was meant to be locked away in Odin’s library, never to be seen or read.

“No,” Hogun said simply. He looked forward, wrinkling his nose at the conversation happening around them. Loki took note of the odd way he seemed both fond and exasperated. “But tell me about it. I doubt it’s worse than this,” he nudged his chin to where Thor and Volstagg continued to entertain Fandral with questions and comments while Sif listened disinterestedly.

Loki tried to quell a stab of disappointment. Of course, there was only personal gain to be thought of instead of genuine interest. But he indulged him nonetheless. “As the title so deftly put,” he deadpanned, “it’s a spell book on shapeshifting and illusions.”

“I gauged that,” Hogun said dryly. “Tell me more.”

What more was there to tell that he would be receptive to? “Well,” he thought, “contrary to popular belief, illusionary magic is intermediate at best, but often child’s play. I caught on to it quite quickly in my hundreds. However,” Loki paused, drawing in a tired breath, “shapeshifting is an advanced art, one that presents potential… complications if done incorrectly.”

Hogun hummed quietly. There was a beat of silence before he asked, “What would you deem advanced?” His head tilted a fraction as though he were actually intrigued.

“To put it in terms you would understand, it’s the equivalent of shooting a running target in the head from one hundred metres away on horseback.”

Hogun whistled lowly. “Have you ever tried?”

“Tried what?”

“Shapeshifting.”

Despite himself, Loki laughed. Hogun flinched but his expression remained impassive. “Yes,” he confessed, holding back a sudden tidal wave of emotion and the urge to end the conversation at its zenith.

“Why?” 

Why? Loki wanted to scream. He let the question marinate in the awkward silence it caused. He drew in a breath, held it, and exhaled at length. “Because desperate people do desperate things.”

Excerpt end

I might change some things about this wip. In my defense I wrote it months ago. But I hope it's got you hyped!

Here's a bonus because I couldn't resist! I can't keep it to myself🙈

Bonus!

“Curious,” he said, holding the bottle up to the light.

Loki rolled his eyes affectionately. “What is?”

“Red is my colour.”

“And?”

“Then by association, this potion must make you devilishly handsome like me. You could use some. I’ll buy it for you.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I would be offended if that wasn’t a lie.”

Bonus end!

Now, SD&RnR doesn't reeeaaallly have a plot rn. I just thought it would be neat to explore Apollo's past of "living life to the fullest" in a protective bubble of perfection and indifference. The title is meant to allude to impulsive grabs for satisfaction and surface level pleasure that doesn't really treat the deeper parts of one's longing and desire (such as that of wanting to be accepted and understood by your family for instance).

So yeah, that's the idea behind it. I haven't written a word but it's coming! Bet your autumn harvest it'll be here!

Thank you this ask and for letting me talk about my babies☺️💛 you rock!

#Ask #thank you for indulging me #my fic #wip

[scullymurphy]

Teach Me How to Forget - Ch. 10

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41597901/chapters/108090987

Hermione tossed a last look over her shoulder as she moved toward the bar to see Parkinson smiling and lifting the tail of Neville's scarf. Hermione smiled too as she poured another Manhattan from a long, narrow pitcher. Then she frowned. She hoped Neville wouldn't be hurt or disappointed. This wasn't their usual honest-to-a-fault, no-frills crowd. Who really knew how these people operated? Malfoy had certainly been a cipher. She sighed and took her drink toward the built-in bookshelves that comprised one of the walls of the room, skimming the titles, all of which were in Latin.

"Any duelling texts?"

He was very close and the tiny hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood straight up. She was fairly certain her nipples did too, images from her dream suddenly splashing across her mind like full-colour film.

"I don't read Latin," she managed to say, noting his familiar linen scent was missing. No, tonight something different was reaching her, something that went with the un-muggle suit and the air of magic everywhere in this place. She inhaled discreetly, but couldn't pick out anything. It must just be him.

"What a surprise." His voice was low and she turned slightly, catching his profile and a glint of platinum falling over his forehead.

"Really?"

"I read Latin." He leaned past her and peered at the books. "And this is, in fact, a duelling text." His long fingers reached forward and slotted a book from the shelf. It was green and faded, with curlicued lettering and two wands picked out in tarnished gold on its cover.

Hermione ignored what he'd just done to her insides and forced herself to be calm, measured. "Not, Strike or Be Struck, is it?"

"No." He sniffed and she let herself smile.

Just then a low, musical laugh sounded from the middle of the room, drawing their attention. It was Parkinson, looking up at Neville as he watched her face with something like wonder in his.

"Is she single?" Hermione asked it almost involuntarily, then remembering her earlier thoughts, wished she could take it back. What if Penelope had been wrong about Parkinson and Malfoy?

Grey eyes went sharply to hers. "For ages, why?"

A bubble of happiness popped in Hermione's throat and she felt the strangest urge to giggle. Instead she jerked her head toward Neville and Pansy. "Isn't it obvious?"

Malfoy looked over at them, a frown drawing his fine, dark brows together. "Oh. Oh," he said, blinking. He was silent and still for a long moment. "She'll eat him alive," he murmured almost to himself. They watched Neville take Parkinson's arm and lead her toward the bar, her lithe figure swaying close to his. "Or maybe…"

He turned back to Hermione, eyes pure silver and mouth tilted up. He was so beautiful that her breath caught.

"Do you want to see a real duelling text, Granger?" he asked, light and almost teasing.

"All right," she said slowly, wondering at the sudden change in his mood. She looked at the books again, up the shelf to where the rows of spines reached almost to the ceiling.

"Oh, it's not here," Malfoy said as he shoved the book he was holding back into its slot.

She frowned. "Where—?"

His brows flicked up. "Would you like to see the library?"

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #dhr #dhr fanfiction #draco x hermione #teach me how to forget #take me to the library #pure self indulgence #panville!

[yangsrose]

bubble gum - park jisung

genre: angst, unrequited love

song that fic is based on: bubble gum - clairo

word count: 1910 words

warnings: HEAVY angst, main character death, mentions of being sick, jisung has the hanahaki disease

authors notes: this has been in my drafts for so long but i've finally finished it! i hope you like it :D

~

Sorry I didn't kiss you

But it's obvious I wanted to

Bubble gum down my throat and it's a curse

But my luck couldn't get any worse

Jisung watched as you subconsciously wrinkled your nose while in deep concentration. The sides of his lips tilted upwards against his own will, and he began to subconsciously smile as he watched you finally manage to get your drawing perfected. His heart skipped a beat as you excitedly turned to him and showed him the drawing, which consisted of a lone person standing in a field of pink flowers. The picture almost seemed realistic, making him feel as if it was his hair blowing in the wind and not the hair of the person in the picture. 

“What does it mean?” He asked, not quite understanding why you would draw that out of all the things. 

“Pink camellias symbolise a longing for someone, usually in the sense of love. The person standing alone in the field shows the way that they’re longing for someone, but are too afraid to confess their feelings towards them.” As you were saying all of this, Jisung noticed how you were staring directly at him, as if you had known a secret that you were supposed to know about him. 

As you spoke, the overwhelming feeling of getting sick overtook Jisung and he tried to fight off the feeling as best as he could, but inevitably failed as he excused himself and practically ran off the bathroom, feeling his throat get dry and scratchy. Right as he made his way to the small toilet, he felt a small yet concerning amount of flower petals spew out of his mouth, causing his eyes to go wide as he saw the bright pink petals that were now floating in the water. 

“Pink Camellias. How ironic” Jisung thought as he dryly chuckled, a weariness from the nausea taking over him. 

Jisung, just like everyone else, had heard about the Hanahaki disease.  He had never expected it to happen to him however, thinking that it would only happen to people who were madly in love with someone else. Yet here he was, falling for his best friend and realising that he did not have any chance with you just solely based on the flowers that arose from inside him. He heard you lightly tap on the door and ask him if he was okay, to which he responded that he must have eaten something weird to have a reaction like that. You softly asked him if you could come inside, to which he harshly said no, he was fine and didn’t need any assistance. Hearing you walk away broke his heart even more and he felt another slew of petals come up his throat. He swallowed hard and got up to rinse his mouth, making eye contact with himself in the mirror in the process. 

His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his nose turning slightly red as well. Jisung looked as if he had been crying for days, and he hated it. A helpless feeling took over him, and his sudden urge to cry overwhelmed him. Out of all the people, why you?

You look so nice in your shirt

It's sad because it just hurts

I'd do anything for you

But would you do that for me, too?

Jisung watched as you tried to find a matching outfit for the date that you had later that day, fretting over the colour combinations that didn’t seem to look right. Jisung had to admit, you looked exceptionally cute in your oversized t-shirt and shorts, while basically throwing your entire wardrobe out of your closet while trying to find clothes to wear for the date that you were planning on going on. Just the thought of you going on a date with someone was enough to make him feel sick again, the familiar feeling of flower petals coming up in his throat. 

So far it had been a month since he began to throw up flower petals, each time producing more petals and inducing more pain that he could manage. Even though Jisung hated the feeling that he would get whenever he was with you, the pain seemed to subside as you would occasionally flash him a wide smile, coming all too fast however, as he smiled back. Pain would shoot up, staring at his heart and going throughout his esophagus and ending at  his mouth, where bubblegum pink petals would inevitably end up coming out.  

“How about this shirt?” Jisung shifted his focus to you holding up a flannel, and he nodded in approval of the selection. You pulled it over your tshirt and stuck a silly pose, showing off your outfit to Jisung. He laughed lightly, but stopped because of the sharp pain that went up his chest. 

Jisung wasn’t afraid of many things, but falling in love with you was one of the most scary things that he had ever done. But despite all the warning signs going off in his brain, he decided to ignore them and chose to spend more time with you, knowing that the more time that he spent with you, he was closer to his demise. Rather than stopping him, that seemed to fuel his case to spend more time with you. He soon came to realise that it wasn’t you he was scared off, rather, he was scared of the feelings that he would have when he was with you. Pain had never felt better when it was mixed with love. 

'Cause I swallowed the bubble gum

Oh, and these seven years will be pretty dumb

Oh, pink flowers grow from my skin

Oh, Pepto Bismol veins and I grin

The pain was unbearable. Jisung had been living with this pain for the past few years, but today it seemed like his heart was about to rip out of his chest. He hoped it wouldn’t, since he had spent a lot of money on the suit that he was currently wearing. 

The seven years filled with strewn flower petals were laced in anguish as Jisung tried, and failed every time, to get rid of any feelings for you. And yet here he was, seven years later, fixing his suit as he willed his stomach to stay settled as he got ready for your wedding. Even though Jisung hated to admit it, he had to say that Jeno was a huge step up from your past exes. Upon seeing him for the first time, Jisung was quite intimidated with his strong aura and prepared himself to face your heart aches once again. As time passed however, Jisung began to realise the softness that Jeno held for you under his ough facade. 

Now here he was, ready to be a groomsman at Jeno’s and your wedding. He realised that he should have said something, anything for that matter, but all Jisung did these past years was sit on the sidelines and watch as you met new people, fell in love with them, and ended up finding your soulmate in the process.

He had managed to make it through the whole ceremony without rushing to the bathroom, an accomplishment that he was very proud of considering the fact that he could taste the sickeningly sweet bubble gum flavoured petals rising up in his throat throughout the vows.

During the reception however, Jisung felt the familiar sickening feeling rise up his throat and he quickly excused himself, pushing past the crowd that was slowly forming around the appetisers. Jisung ran into the nearest bathroom and saw the all too familiar bright pink flower petals float to the top, mixed with a bright red liquid. Jisung’s panic and tears only increased as he saw the mix of colours through blurry vision, realising that the problem had gotten far too worse for him to ignore. After spending a painstaking amount of time hunched over the toilet, Jisung finally mustered up the strength to get up and rinse his mouth out in the sink. He took deep breaths to stop the tears that threatened to rise again before exiting the stall. 

The last thing he expected to see however, was Jeno himself staring at Jisung with the most concerned expression on his face. Seeing Jeno made Jisung feel sick all over again, except this time out of nervousness due to Jeno seeing him in that state. What if he realised Jisung’s feelings and came to confront him about it? 

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked, cautiously stepping closer to Jisung as if he was a fragile object that would break if he got too close.

“I’m okay. I think I ate something weird last night which made me sick” Jisung said, nervously laughing as a means of reassuring Jeno that he was fine. Jeno smiled back at Jisung, seemingly buying the lie that he had told. 

“I think I’ll head home now. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stay for the entire wedding.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll tell y/n that you weren’t feeling too well. I’m glad that you came for the ceremony though. Y/n was really happy that you were here today.” Jeno said, a fond smile overtaking his features as he mentioned your name. The pain shot up Jisung’s body and he weakly smiled while hugging Jeno and bidding him goodbye, basically ripping him in half as he felt his own heart quite literally rip in half as well. Jisung quietly left the venue and walked over to his car, sending you a text regarding his sudden absence. He knew you wouldn’t see it until much later, but he didn’t want you to worry and think that he left without saying goodbye to you. 

The drive back home was painful for him. Not only had it sunk in that he had basically given away his best friend and only lover, but he also felt it suddenly hard to breathe. His throat constricted and he was constantly gasping for breath on the way back to his apartment. After what had seemed like forever, he finally made it back home and ran into the bathroom, throwing up more flower petals. This time however, the red splotches only increased in amount. Jisung slowly got up from the ground and staggered over to his bed, feeling dizzy and uncoordinated. He fell onto his bed ratherly harshly, and soon fell into a deep sleep. 

Jisung didn’t dream much, but that night he dreamed of running in a flower field, only realising after a while that it was the same flower field that he saw you paint a few years ago. Pink camellias surrounded him everywhere, tickling his legs and brushing over him with their soft petals. 

“Jisung!” he heard you call out to him, and he whipped around, frantically trying to look for you. He saw you running towards him, and began running towards you. But as he got closer to you, he was sent even further back from where he started. Every breath began to feel like a struggle as he tried to get to where you were, and suddenly, he lost sight of you. Frantically looking around, he panicked at the way that there was no sign of you ever being there. Jisung called your name multiple times until suddenly, he wasn’t in the field of camellias anymore either. Spiralling into a black abyss, the last thing Jisung heard was the sound of you calling his name.

#kflixnet #kvanity #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct dream reactions #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #jisung reactions #jisung scenarios #jisung drabbles #jisung fluff #jisung angst #jisung imagines #nct #nct u #nct dream #park jisung #kpop reactions #kpop fluff #kpop drabbles #kpop angst #kpop imagines

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge's Day Off - Sweet Dreams (Part 36)

It should not surprise you that Sans doesn't teleport directly to the Hotel.

"there ya go, sweetheart," he says softly, pulling you out from behind a building just up the road from the Hotel. "not too much of a walk fer ya?"

You blink away your brief disorientation, focus on the pavement under your feet, and take in a deep breath. Much different from the mildly damp scent of the alleyway where you came from. Fresher, crisper. With a faint hint of citrus from the nearby juice shop.

Familiar.

Then what Sans asks registers and you turn to look at him, a soft look on your face. "No," you say quietly. The sudden urge to take his hand comes over you, but you resist. Not out in the open. "But thank you." For being so courteous. For caring.

Sans blushes lightly and drags a dried, rust-coated hand over his skull, muttering, "fuhgeddaboudit."

This sudden shyness after what you had done to him in that back alley...it's adorable, you have to admit. You never thought you'd see the indomitable and unshakeable Sans like this.

Your lips twitch in an aborted attempt to smile, the natural curve of your mouth hiding it almost in its entirety. But Sans sees it. As he always does. "'ll watch ya till ya get to the front door," he grumbles, looking away. Goodness, that little blush grows into something that almost sets his face on fire.

You're suddenly reminded of how he glowed when you were playing with him. And suddenly, all you want is to see all of him glow like that again. Ah, but...not out in public. And definitely away from prying eyes and inquisitive ears. "I would appreciate that, thank you," you say quietly, not bothering to draw his eyes to you.

Not that you need to, because those crimson eye lights drift back to you, almost as if it were against his will. They rove over your eyes, your face, and then down to the collar of your shirt. "...didn't'cha say somethin' 'bout showing a li'l skin on the second date?" That shyness fades away like so much smoke, giving way to a tired leer.

Now a smile quirks the corners of your mouth up. "Even after that?" you flick your gaze down to his trousers and back up again.

He blushes, but maintains that leer. If a skeleton could wink--ah, there's the wink.

Gently, you shake your head with a soft chuckle. "Not out here." Not in the open.

"that an invitation?" he sways a step closer, then another.

Before being stopped by a flat hand to his chest. "An invitation for another meeting." The disgruntled look on his face is mollified by the soft expression on yours. "When we're both better rested."

That makes Sans brighten and puff up, like a pigeon...or an eagle spotting what it wants. "oh yeah sweetheart, yer gonna need all the energy you can get," he purrs lasciviously, winking at you.

You wouldn't expect any less.

Again, you give into the temptation to let a little smile spread over your mouth. "As I thought." Then, you step away, turning to head up the street. "Goodnight, Sans."

"g'night sweetheart," he rumbles back, his hands in his pockets.

Up the street you walk without looking back. At least, until you reach the front steps of the Hotel, greeting your valets and doormen with a nod. At that time, you look back.

Sans is still standing by the corner where you left him, that eternal grin still on his face. He notices you looking at him and salutes with two rust-coloured phalanges. Salutes and points to your left leg. Before you can look down, he retreats behind the building with a cheeky wink. No doubt teleporting back to wherever he lies his head for the night.

Your brows nearly furrow but you control your expression carefully as you look down at your left leg. And lo and behold, a faint, watery red stain on the cuff of your left pantleg, right down near your shoe.

Damn it, he did leave a stain after all.

#undertale fics #mafiafell au #mafiafell sans #mafiafell sans x reader #sans x reader #reader insert #the concierge #drabble #ficlet

[mxescargot]

I had a sudden urge to draw Mafuyu so I did. Poorly. (At least the lineart, the colours have a modicum of effort put into them for some reason 💀) (capitalized correctly because i copied from my instagram post, done on mobile lmao)

#project sekai #25 ji nightcord de #mafuyu asahina #project sekai fanart #asahina mafuyu #prsk #art #prosekai #prsk fa #niigo mafuyu #niigo #helix draws

[raichett]

Jellie

Scar and Jellie meet for the very first time in this flash fic :) And I promise, despite some referenced sadness from Scar’s backstory, this is basically fluff all the way down.

This flash fic can also be found on AO3.

–

JELLIE

It’s not often that a vex leaves their contract, but Scar has always been strange for a vex. Too ambitious, too bright-eyed, too full of dreams and desires to stay happy bound in contract with an evoker who won’t ever do anything their mansion doesn’t dictate. So, tired and restless and brimming with frustration, Scar had left. He doubts his absence has even been noticed; there are always more vexes to summon, more ready to fight and die in ceaseless violence for violence’s sake, pillaging villages and then not even rebuilding on the ruins.

A jungle is far from his home biome of a dark forest – much warmer and muggier, filled with life in a way that the deep shadows of dark forests had prevented, shrouding the biome with perpetual gloom from which monsters crept. Scar can hear the chirping of the parrots and the grumbling of the pandas, the wind rustling through the leaves and the smell of growing things – cocoa beans, flowers, bamboo – filling his nose.

He swoops down to perch on a log by a river, for even vexes need to drink water to live when bereft of the magic of a summoner to draw their life force from. He dips grey-blue hands into the stream, cupping and bringing it to his face. It tastes good; thank the Developers that water, by standard code, is always pure and free from contamination, no matter the biome it’s found in. Scar’s heard stories from other vexes that not all servers stay standard, that some add mods to make survival more difficult, just for the challenge of it. Not here, thankfully, though Scar is intrigued by the nature of players to reach higher and further, developing their own skills and abilities, going as far as to handicap themselves and then thrive anyway.

That’s another of Scar’s problems: he’s always been a bit too enthralled by players, and not in the right way, the acceptable way. He’s always been more drawn to what it’s like to live like them, than by any urge to kill them for it.

“Mrrow?”

Scar’s shaken from his thoughts at a noise. He looks up and sees an ocelot on the other side of the stream, staring and tilting its head at him. He squeals with excitement and flutters over, realising a second too late that such often frightens little mobs off.

The ocelot does tense, but stays in place, at odds with its naturally nervous nature. Scar’s seen cats before, in villages, both before the pillagers descended upon them, lounging in the sun and accepting strokes and scratches, and after, picking through the smoking ruins with their little paws, nervy and skittish. He’s always wanted to stroke one, but has never been able to get near enough.

An ocelot is not the same as a cat, but they’re close enough. Scar stops a short distance away, berating himself for distressing the cute mob, reaching out a hand with baited breath and holding it lingering in the air. Come on, he begs silently. Please. Just this once. I want – I want to be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you. Please.

The ocelot sniffs at his trembling fingers, daring to come closer. It licks them, a rough little tongue, and Scar melts. It presses its little head into his palm.

Scar would die for this little ocelot.

Then, all of a sudden, it nips at him, smearing purple blood and licking at it. “Hey!” Scar says, betrayed. That hurt! Not a lot, mind, but still… he’d thought he was making a friend…

The ocelot shakes its head rapidly, ears flicking and whiskers trembling. Scar suddenly wonders what the magical demonic blood vexes carry could possibly do to an ocelot, and feels fear for the little creature; all of its fur is standing on end, puffing it up, and then –

“Oh, um… is that – intended?” Scar murmurs as particles surround the ocelot and its fur changes colour and pattern, from striped orange, black and white to striped greys and whites. A secret from the Developers? An unintended glitch?

The cat – it must be a cat now, it’s no longer an ocelot – purrs. Scar becomes very suddenly aware of a new bond trailing between him and the cat; not a summoning bond, like he shared with his old evoker, now broken by Scar’s hands, but a pet bond, a link of affection and duty. This cat is yours to love, now.

“...Oh,” Scar breathes, and it’s – no one ever trusts a vex with anything, certainly not a mob entirely under his care and his mercy, relying on him for love and food, for a place to shelter and hands to cradle it gently.

The cat comes closer, butts its head against him again, scenting him and seeking affection. Scar’s heart is a puddle on the jungle floor, and he feels like a new vex at just the idea of this cat being his.

“Hello… Jellie,” Scar says, the name flashing and integrating into the cat’s data without even a name tag. That’s now its entity sub-data: entity.minecraft.cat.jellie. What…?

Jellie accepts Scar’s cuddle, miaowing as he scratches behind her – she’s a her, he can tell – ears and purring as he cuddles and strokes her, warm with new hope and new friendship, warm as he never was in that cold woodland mansion. He butts his head against hers, flutters his wings, and croons an answering purr: hello, my friend. My very first friend.

The future opens before him. Scar and Jellie are coming for you, world, you’ll see, we’re coming. We’ll be something worth remembering, worth talking about, worth listening to; we’ll be something great.

#my writing #flash fic #goodtimeswithscar #jellie

[thatonegae]

Day 1 of drawing miles edgeworth wrong

I had the sudden urge to annoy a friend, so now i'm going to draw miles edgeworth more and more wrong until he is unrecognisable!! First day is down, making him mildly disproportionate and giving him the wrong badge..also the colouring, cant forget that!!!

#miles edgeworth #ace attorney #this took me 40 minutes #how do i tag this #no one should take this seriously #its miles fucking edgeworth #yes i am doing this soley to spite a friend #your welcome

[alexthefly]

Under the Painted Sky

This one is for @jbarkerstargazer , inspired by these wonderful drawings of John on a rooftop. They're all gorgeous, so I really hope you like this bit of nonsense they inspired. 😊

Part of @tagminibang2022 .

---------------------

Or read it on AO3

The air was warm and full of the sound of rustling wheat.

John blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes as he returned to the world. He’d only meant to read a chapter or two, but the book was a good one - an old favourite - and so the late afternoon light had faded to dusk without him noticing. Now the sun hung low in the sky, and the telephone poles dotted along the landscape cast long shadows across the fields. Over behind the barn, an occasional caw from the big oak tree was now the only sign of the crows he remembered flocking above him about forty pages ago.

He pinched his nose with his fingers, trying to relieve the tension in his eye muscles. He must have been squinting for quite some time without realising it, straining his eyes against the dying of the light.

The sun had not quite dipped entirely below the horizon yet though, and so glancing westwards he was treated to a glorious display of colour across the heavens. Reds, oranges, golds… Letting the hand holding his book drop across him, he reclined back against the pitched farmhouse roof, arm behind his head, and took a moment to let his mind wander as he watched the warm, changing hues gradually creep across the evening sky.

His hair, his baldric, the solar panels on Five…

It seemed strange to him how he could simultaneously think of all these different colours as separate associations, moods, entities, and yet at the same time his physicist brain told him that it was all exactly the same light, filtered through a varying volume of atmospheric particles as the sun’s relative position moved from vertical to horizontal. The rays of light currently spilling fire across the sky were precisely the same rays that glowed blue over the Earth’s horizon several times a day when he was back on Five. Nothing different about it. And yet…

And yet.

For not much reason at all he felt the sudden urge to call Virgil. Stupid - Virgil was at home on the other side of the world, probably elbow-deep in something oily and cahelium-based - but he somehow had an instinct that his artist-come-engineer brother would understand this feeling in a way that the others probably wouldn’t.

The beauty in the science.

He sighed. He should probably go downstairs and have something to eat, and perhaps a nap before the meteor shower started in earnest. (Another thing his physicist brain took issue with; the shower was already in progress - had been for several days - it’s just that the Earth hadn’t spun around quite enough for him to see it yet.)

Napping now would be the most sensible thing to do, but he already knew that he wouldn’t. Deep inside him, his ten-year-old self was hopping up and down like a cricket in a jar: It was Perseids Night; who could sleep?!

A blond head poked out from the upstairs window.

“Hey Johnny, are you still up there, or did you fall off already?”

A quiet chuckle. Right on cue, Allie.

If anybody could sleep through the Perseids, Alan Tracy could. Hell, a chunk of meteorite could literally fall through the house and onto his pillow and he would probably be none the wiser. In fact Alan had already conked out once today, on the sofa right after lunch, although John was generous enough to blame the change in timezones for that one.

His baby brother was just lucky it was only the two of them at the farm for the shower, or else he might have woken up to find Gordon had dyed his hair blue …again.

“I’m still here Allie," John replied, "no safety net required. And don’t call me Johnny,” he added, although he knew it was pointless. Alan and Gordon loved to tease him with that name, and truth be told he didn’t even really mind it any more, it had been so long; the whole thing was more ritual now than anything.

“So are you actually planning on coming up to watch, or did you travel a whole hemisphere just to stay down there all night?”

Alan rolled his eyes. "I'll be there in a minute,” he said. “D'you want me to bring anything up with me? Are you cold? I could bring blankets?”

“That depends. Are you asking for me, or so you can make a nest and fall asleep up here too?”

A baby-faced pout. "Ha ha, hilarious(!) Y'know, one day I’m gonna…" But whatever the rest of that sentence was was rendered unintelligible by an absolutely massive yawn.

John’s lips twitched. “...An excellent point(!)”

Alan looked so much like Scott when he scowled.

John’s face split into a grin. “Come on, Rip Van Winkle, get up here before you miss the show.” Then as an afterthought, “Bring some snacks too.”

There were some scuffling noises (and perhaps the odd word that Grandma wouldn’t approve of) and then his little brother was beside him, holding two large sheet pans.

“I’ll do you one better; I made pizza!” He deflated slightly. “I mean, it’s only frozen, but I figured-”

John smiled warmly. “It’s perfect, Allie.”

The next few minutes were a flurry of slice-grabbing, butt-shuffling and general getting comfortable. By the time they both finally lay back side by side, eyes raised once again to the skies, the sun had ducked down below the treeline, and all the hot colours from before had mellowed into a more delicate, pastel rainbow of purple and rose pink.

“Wow. Pretty," breathed Alan.

John smiled. “Yeah," he said, "Earth’s still pretty amazing sometimes, despite the gravity.”

“Oh yeah? So we haven’t quite lost you to Five yet then?”

John raised an eyebrow and Alan flailed.

“I mean, not ‘lost you’ lost you, but what I mean is-”

“I know what you meant, Allie.” John put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to worry. I love being on Five, wouldn’t change it for the world, but down here with you guys will always be home to me.”

In the dimming light, Alan’s eyes glistened.

John cleared his throat.

“And anyway, there’s things I can see here that I can’t see anywhere else. Like tonight for example. Dirtside is the best seat in the house for a meteor shower. And then there’s this.” He motioned towards the glowing pastel sky.

It really was beautiful.

"Actually,” he added slowly, “this is one of my favourite times to be on Earth, when the sky’s like this."

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. The colours are…” He struggled for the right word.

“Right. 'Cos lavender’s your favourite, right?”

John frowned.

“What makes you say that?”

He’d always told people it was gold.

“Your favourite bedspread,” shrugged Alan. “And the mug you like your tea in when you're sick. You always choose lavender when you want to be cosy."

Oh.

Oh.

Damn, the kid was observant.

Silence blossomed as a wash of thoughts and feelings flooded John’s brain, threatening to overwhelm him. Nostalgia, happiness, comfort, sorrow… Ever the scientist, he took his time to analyse each one, turning them over and over in his mind, distilling them down into one word:

Mom.

He breathed.

“You alright?” asked Alan quietly, worried.

“Just…thinking.”

He could feel his brother watching him. “About...?”

John ran his hand through his hair, finding words. “Not thinking, really. Remembering. Before you were born; back when it was just Scott, Virgil and me. Dad was away a lot of the time. Space, Mars… y’know?”

Alan nodded.

“Mom did her best, but I was so little, I didn’t understand where Dad had gone. Scott says I wouldn’t sleep back then, that I used to cry a lot, but I don’t really remember any of that. I just remember things feeling…wrong,” he finished lamely.

“Then one evening, a lot like this one, Mom took me outside to look at the sky. She said that Dad was up there, playing with the stars, and that if we looked really carefully, we might see him waving.”

He chuckled softly.

“It was a silly thing, but I believed it. So we went outside in the yard to wait for the stars to come out.”

He sighed.

“It wasn’t cold, but Mom brought a blanket anyway to wrap me up close to her. I remember her warmth, and the smell coming from Mom’s roses by the porch - she loved roses, pink ones especially - and the rustling from the fields, and the colour of that sky. I remember looking up at it and thinking that, just maybe, if Dad really was there amongst the stars, then perhaps he had painted those colours just for us; pink for Mom, and purple for me.

“We probably weren’t actually out there all that long, but it felt like we waited forever to see that first star. But eventually there it was, twinkling away at us. In hindsight it probably wasn’t a star at all - it was probably Venus - but we waved at it anyway, and sent our love to Dad by it.”

He looked over at Alan, who was watching him intently, taking in every word.

“That was the first time I ever went stargazing. After that, Mom and I would often go outside before bedtime so I could say goodnight to Dad. Once in a while I even caught her out there by herself, talking to him, telling him about her day.”

For a moment he couldn’t speak, lost in the image. It felt private to think about, like he was… intruding somehow. He rubbed his eyes, clearing the image, returning to the present. A breath.

“And then Dad came home and things went back to normal. He stayed down here and started Tracy Industries, and I didn’t have to wave to him anymore. But I kept looking up; looking for stars. I never stopped.”

John smiled at his baby brother.

“And then of course you came along, and I had someone else to look at them with.”

Alan returned the smile with a grin of his own, bright in the semi-darkness.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said, his voice just a little bit raw.

Seconds passed. The wheat fields breathed in the breeze.

“But then,” said Alan, a small frown developing on his brow, “why do you tell everyone that your favourite colour is gold? Where did that come from?”

John laughed. That bit was easy.

“When I first moved up to Five, I wanted to keep something that would remind me of home. Something to keep me grounded, here, on Earth. So I chose gold.”

Alan’s head tilted, quizzical; puppy-like.

“Gold is warm,” explained John. “It’s wheat fields and tropical sands. It’s summer sunshine.”

He smiled gently.

“It’s you guys.”

There was a beat, and then all the air suddenly left John’s lungs as a not-so-tiny brother launched himself into his chest.

“Woah! Allie…” he wheezed as Alan threatened to squeeze the life out of him.

Alan just held on tight.

John smiled.

“...I love you too.”

Far up above them, in the light of the dying sunset, the first shooting star of the night streaked its way across a pink and purple sky.

#tagminibang2022 #tag mini bang 2022 #jbarkerstargazer #john tracy #alan tracy #spacebros #alexthefly fic #fluff and feels #thunderfluff #thunderbirds are go

[i-am-become-a-name]

Advent Prompt: 05/12/2022: I can’t move, person B has fallen asleep on me.

Tegan had dragged her feet into the kitchen that morning, and while never a morning person, the rings under her eyes today spoke of whole universes of sleeplessness. It had been such a been such a short time since they had welcomed  (with varying warmth) Turlough, and an even shorter time since they had farewelled Nyssa. Their equilibrium still teetered between extremes, and he wondered idly, fingers tucked around his delicate cup of tea, whether the disruption had inspired her nightmares anew.

He took care never to mention it, but there was a coil to her step when she was in the TARDIS, high heels abandoned, and it tended to be exaggerated by exhaustion, something of a slither when her slippered feet moved across the floor. The signs were there today, and she was unaware as she bent over the coffee dispenser, mumbling to herself in counterpoint to it’s steady drip.

He stayed prudently silent as she sat in the chair beside his, having faced the wrath of her early morning self before, breathing in steam as if it were her only salvation, and their morning truce was slowly drawing to it’s end. Soon his tea would have been drunk, and she would have drawn enough strength from her coffee to potter around for something more substantial. All bets would be off after that, and-

Something slumped against his shoulder, and the only the familiar surroundings of the TARDIS paused his immediate to flinch away, a gentle, amused brush against his mind. Tegan had slowly slid away from her coffee, and a flash of her slow inexorable slump played in his mind’s eye, the twisting and constantly changing perspective of the TARDIS’s brain, and in the real world, there was a quiet sigh against his shoulder, warmth bleeding through his knitted jersey, and he looked down into the mass of curls that had claimed his arm.

Ah, so there was the proof of nightmares.

He abandoned his tea, trying to gently lean her back into her own chair, but the lack of support in a dining chair would send her to the ground, and he couldn’t in fairness deny her the sleep she so desperately seemed to need by tossing her to the ground. To borrow her words – rabbits.

“Tegan,” he coaxed, but she didn’t wake, shifting only to lean more weight against him, tipping the balance of her chair until the feet began to skid, and he grabbed for it, arm trapped under her weight, but the chair holding steady, his hand clutching a strut in the back.

Her coffee had long ceased to steam before the door crept open, and he was long resigned to doing little but trying to remember the end of a book he had read many regenerations ago, and it took a moment to register that Turlough was looking at them  with a mixture of horror and absolute mirth. He suddenly realised how they must appear, and he had to fight the sudden urge to jump away as if he’d been doing something inappropriate, but Tegan was still quietly breathing against his side, and the darkness beneath her eyes was starting fade, incremental colour changes invisible to the average eye. He dragged his gaze away to look back up at Turlough, only to catch the last flicker of calculation before he smiled tensely at them, as if it pained him.

The door closed behind him, and Tegan didn’t stir.

#it's a short one but i am Desperately tired. someone give #me a comforting if uncomfortable person to nap on please. i beg of you #tegan #five #fic #advent calendar #apologies in advance if tomorrow's advent calendar is late but i'm working from 10:30 am to 7pm and may just be too exhausted to write #(I find it difficult to write at work with /people/ and /time constraints/ and /trying to eat my lunch and have a cup of tea/ shoved into 30 #minutes.)

[the-letter-horror-lover]

12: Blue

"Okay then.. Shinjo? "

"The fuck with that name.. ?"

Aretha scoffed.

"I didn't asked you, brother. "

She said before her gaze returned to the man in question.

"Hnmm. How about...Areth? See? You remove the 'a' from my name and—"

"..never. " Boruto mouthed out in a low voice.

"For the first and last time.. I agree with him. "

Aeneus's reply earned him a sharp gaze before the girl retorted back to her conversation with the boy.

"Come on... Then just tell us already?"

"...Shut up.. "

Aretha's tongue clicked at the cold response , yet an amused smirk plastered on her features made the boy flinch.

Meanwhile Aeneus gritted his teeth to control the urge of drawing out his sword.

"You don't have to call me anything... I don't care.. "

A grab on his collar drew him closer to the white haired prince before Aeneu's fury erupted.

"You bastard... think you can get away wanting to involve your ass with us and won't even tell your name?!"

He scoffed and Boruto ignored the few more rantings that followed.

"My name doesn't matters. I don't have one. "

He replied before a sudden silence gripped the atmosphere making him confused.

Aretha broke the silence before leaning close to him again.

Though this time the boy had both of his hand free enough to hit her dead.

"I see... " She whispered like some kind of realisation dawned on her.

Boruto did nothing.

They remained still for a while before she spoke again.

"... Blue. "

His eyes widened, ears ringing at the word.

"What? "

Boruto asked, completely perplexed from the sudden monosyllable.

Aretha smiled in response before adding her own reasoning.

"I-We'll call you Blue.. It suits you.. the colour of your eyes I mean. "

"At this point I just want to die. " Aeneus commented earning a scoff in return.

Though the only one without any response was Boruto.

'The color of your eyes I mean—'

*thump*

[Your eyes... They are bluer than the seventh's. ]

His ears burned at the thought. The faint memory flashing through him like a movie.

Fuck.

"Well..never mind if you don't want to—"

"I.. I agree. "

Now this was the sibling's turn to be surprised.

"What? What do you mean —"

"Blue...Call me that. I won't mind. "

"Oh.. "

A short silence followed , a uncomfortable uneasiness crawling up in his whole body.

"Your highness... They have arrived.. . "

Shebah entered motioning for Boruto to follow her.

Aretha nodded in understanding.

No further words were exchanged hence the boy abruptly stood up and left.

"He's... so weird. "

Aretha nodded at Aeneus's remark.

More like... Mysterious.

"That being said.. Are you really enrolling him?"

"Mhm.. I'll let him know after I do that though. "

A chuckle left the boy.

She really isn't gonna let him go easy.

"I've already sent a messenger back to the capital. Brother Aizen can decide on the rest. "

"..I see. "

Aretha felt the moisture leaving her throat at the mention.

"Though we still need to keep our guard up. The royal priest can be.. Anywhere. "

She added silently.

"He shows up whenever he takes interest in something doesn't he? Guess we have to wait for our trumph card. "

He replied more like in a whisper.

"I don't really know.. Just that.. "

Taking out a small gold pocket watch , Aretha's spoke.

Fingers tracing its rough worn out texture ,her eyes suddenly flashing nothing but sadness.

"The royal family hasn't contacted him since then. Hope we make it this time.. "

"What makes you so confident.. Up until yesterday you laughed at the mere idea. "

Aeneus meant it to be more of a 'comment' than a suggestion. Aretha knew that too well.

Her gaze landed on the door still opened.

"I wonder what.. "

She smiled before several figures entered the room through the same door.

"We've been expecting you.. Nara-san— "

Aeneus's voice grew formal and the latter smiled back in return.

"Its a pleasure.. Finally being able to have a personal meet with the royals."

The other person said.

"Mhm. The pleasure is ours— "

Aretha replied bowing like how a princess is supposed to be.

"—Lord sixth. "

The sounds of footsteps tapping on the floor impatiently were the only thing audible in the silent coridoor.

Apparently their troop were immediately transferred to one of the most expensive hotels of the leaf village instead of directing them to the Fire office.

Which was expected, but what came as a shocker was the Hokage's absence at their arrival.

"The princess said she'll be here s-"

"Shut up. "

A sudden wave of deathly fear washed through her body as Shebah twingeled her fingers in hesitation.

Twisting her face towards her only companion there was only one thing she could think of.

Fuck.

"Alright. Lets talk about something else... -"

".-h-how old are you ?"

She began, finding it hard to swallow.

Shebah never denies any request from the princess.

Or anyone from the higher ups for that matter.

However, apparently this new task given to the poor girl was something compelling her to pack her stuff up and leave.

'Befriend him if you can.. I need more intel about him.. Don't mess up. I trust you. '

Yeah...as if it wasn't hard enough to run away than getting fed with such trustful words tying her down to this dreadful fate more than she even thought possible.

Aretha had blurted out the sentence , as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

No.

It was nearly impossible.

The princess's doubtful smirk right after already gave it away. Shebah knew what she was getting into.

She shouldn't agree.

Deny. Run away. Take a leave.

Do anything. But not this.

You have a fucking broken arm damn it.

'Whatever your highness commands. '

Now she wanted nothing but to kill herself.

Her gaze shifted to the side again as a sweat drop dripped down her forehead.

The boy didn't responded.

If she pissed this mess the only thing awaiting her would be dire trouble.

Not that it was any better now.

Though a lack of reply was both relaxing and disappointing for the young maid.

They waited outsude as the meet continued. An hour has already passed and she doubted if she could handle this much pressure for long.

Tch.

"I wonder what's going on... "

An inaudible scoff left her dry throat , eyebrows twitching, this is probably the 4th time she had tried to initiate a conversation with him.

"I-"

Why should she even try anymore.

"Alright we are done here. "

The 1st phase of his plan being successful, Boruto felt a little off guarded.

Though what came next was the unexpected turn of events from the side of the village itself.

Though somewhere he was low key thankful.

The later he faces them, the better.

Or rather they should all vanish before he even steps a foot in.

Though thinking that way was certainly naive.

And disadvantageous.

The mild pounding in his head and the unwanted presence beside him nudging the boy from time to time was making him mad.

A little more and either he'll slam open the damed door.

Or this servant would vanish from existence.

Though the boy preferred the latter for some reason.

Maybe it was because of the people they were holding the meeting with.

The Hokage's advisor, Nara Shikamaru and-

Boruto felt like destroying the whole building just at the thought of the other name.

-The 6th Hokage, Hatake Kakashi.

"Alright we are done here. "

Aretha's voice dragged the boy back to reality as he looked up as a reflex.

Gaze meeting another pair of dark eyes.

Boruto felt his nerves getting blocked.

He clenched his fists as an unconscious response, before easing out.

A deep breath leaving him. He blinked several times.

Luckily no one noticed.

Though that certainly wasn't the case.

"Yare.. Yare. What tough times..."

Kakashi chuckled.

"A geezer like me couldn't spend his remaining time relaxing."

He shifted uncomfortably closer to the boy while both the Oryn siblings were busy ending their conversation with shikamaru.

Boruto couldn't help but notice the amused gaze the copy ninja darted towards him.

He didn't knew what to say. How to react.

Why the sudden interest?

He couldn't understand. He made sure to keep his appearance the least approachable possible.

Not to mention, Hatake Kakashi almost never takes interest in anything.

The Hokage's eyes continued to linger on him for a while before the silence was ruptured.

"I take it you're the new guy then?"

He asked and Boruto just had to nod.

"..my my.. young bloods nowadays are certainly more mature."

He gave an eye closed chuckle while the boy's stare remain cold as ice.

Run away.

Forget everything. Think of something it.

End him.

"Yes. My name is Blue."

The words left him in a rythm. Blood rushing through his veins in fast speed.

A slight 'hmm' left the older man's mouth. Wether it was in agreement or confirmation of some stupid suspicion.

Boruto didn't knew.

"Interesting... Just the fitting name for a young guy like you. "

Kakashi's gaze locked with his ,appreciating the hue his eyes owned.

At that moment. Boruto wanted nothing but to gauge them out if possible.

But no.

They were the only thing that reminded him of Himawari.

Even if they held twice the amount of uncomfort being a gift of inheritance from that man.

"We have arranged the rooms for everyone- " Shikamaru's voice interrupted as they all neared the two.

"-and one extra room for the additional guy. What a dra— never mind. " he added pointing his gaze towards Boruto.

An inaudible scoff left Aeneus, though the blonde caught it with ease.

Additional guy. So that's what they fed the leaf.

"The Anbu has been stationed for safety. If their highness feel the need of anything else please do not hesitate to ask. "

His unusual formal tone and the continued efforts to avoid his signature phrase made it hard for Kakashi to resist chuckling.

Shikamaru groaned. The oryns certainly couldn't understand the reason considering it some kind if inside joke.

Boruto remained silent.

"Nevermind that... We'll be taking our leave now. You see.. Last minute preparations. "

Shikamaru bowed while Kakashi remained still, much to Boruto's displeasure.

"I understand. Handeling such a big event , must be tiring. " Aretha smiled bowing back in respect followed by her brother.

Now this was something the boy knew very little about.

Apparently this event was what the other villages were gathering to attend.

The Oryn's being the guest of honor.

Boruto had laughed at the thought. Guest of honor ,in planning to demolish their very existence.

How amusing.

A smirk surfaced on his lips before he recalled Kakashi's eyes were still watching him.

"Yare yare... We apologize for the inconvenience caused.""

At what time his ears left the conversation, Boruto didn't realized.

Why... didn't he came..?

His gaze lingered to the window, familiar landscape filling his gaze.

The worst possibilities entered his mind.

That man... Wasn't among the ones to miss out on something as important as this.

Unless what stopped him was far more serious, that made his heart beat fastened.

Heck he didn't even sent a clone. Boruto couldn't think of anything positive enough.

What could've happened..

He couldn't help but wonder.

Dragging their tired bodies out of the hotel Kakashi felt his eyes closing.

"I appreciate your help, Kakashi-sensei...Thank you. "

The man smiled at Shikamaru's comment.

It was the least he could do to help his students afterall.

Especially at times like these.

A frown traced under his mask, before a flap of wings brought him back.

A hawk flew past the man's grey hair as the letter was dropped.

Kakashi fairly recognised both the bird and the handwriting decorating the plain paper.

Even in hurry, the Uchihas couldn't resist their sense of cleanliness. That always amuses him.

"Sasuke...? Why is he sending letters when he's in the village..? "

Kakashi could only shrug at Shikamaru's questioning.

He didn't had a clue himself.

He unfolded the thin sheet quick enough ,much to Shikamaru's little surprise.

The more he read.. The more his facial expressions stilled.

Shikamaru darted a doubtful gaze towards him though didn't said anything.

He couldn't make out anything given the man was obviously trying to keep himself neutral.

Though Shikamaru wasn't naive.

The only thing the Hokage couldn't hide were his pupil dilating.

Though Shikamari caught it fairly quickly, he was an advisor for a reason after all.

Was it interest? Doubt? Suspicion?

He couldn't tell.

Recalling the short encounter between the Uchiha and Naruto, on the day of Sasuke's arrival, the Nara frowned.

Naruto was upset. An expression he had rarely seen the blonde wearing was plastered on his face.

He couldn't help but worry. He didn't wanted to think this way.

Though the only conclusion he could come with made his eyebrows twitch in doubt.

"What the hell are you planning..

...Uchiha Sasuke. "

Night came fairly quickly as the boy finally felt at ease being alone in his own room.

Away from all the mess.

Though this peace won't last for long and just had to accept it.

Gazing out the window through his bed, his eyes felt heavier and heavier by the minute.

"Finally... "

He breathed out.

"..it starts tomorrow... "

*tuck* *keaaarr..*

The sudden sound made all his sleep vanish away as his eyes were drawn to a mall dark figure out his window.

He knew it too well.

Before they widened in an unexpected realisation.

"This... can't be.. "

He couldn't believe it at first. There was no doubt.

This was none else but Sasuke's summoning hawk.

Boruto felt fear gripping his insides. A ringing sound echoed in his brain.

So loud that he wanted to die.

How..?! Why..? !

Did they get caught? !

Though the only thing he could do at the moment was to let the bird in.

Though what came next—

—was something he never expected.

...

One Last Time by Senyaloveschoco

Anime » Boruto: Naruto Next Generations Rated: T, English, Angst & Mystery, Boruto U., Naruto U., Sarada U., Sasuke U., Words: 31k+, Favs: 7, Follows: 2, Published: Jul 30, 2021

1Chapter 13: A father's plea

...The present world...

"I need him back. "

The man spoke with a straight face.

If his eyes weren't proof enough, the sore voice meddled with his genuine pleading gave it away.

A few gasps followed and the chatterings engulfing the room went silent.

Naruto turned his eyes towards the young generation.

"I take full responsibility.. "

"Of what exactly? " Kawaki's hoarse voice echoed in the room as he regarded his idol with a stern tone.

Naruto's eyes lingered at him for a while before he spoke.

".. everything."

Though his voice betrayed him. His gaze fell in shame. Maybe it wasn't working. But what else could he do?

Other than pleading.

Even though he was still the Hokage, he somehow couldn't face his own people.

His own children.

His gaze rose back up. Several pair of eyes staring at him.

Disbelief prominent in them. As if he just stated something ridiculous.

Their eyes held resentment , doubt.

Fear.

How badly had he failed.

"If I may interrupt—. "

Sarada stepped forward. Her body language screaming nothing but strength and order.

Face straight, expressionless. Naruto couldn't understand why.

Or maybe he did understood. Just didn't wanted to believe it.

She was broken. One of the people who had suffered the most.

Just like him.

She had no one but one family member left.

Though in his case, even that possibility was slowly fading away.

"On your orders.. Hokage-sama—" .

She empathised on the word.

"We didn't leave a single corner of the 5 nations unsearched. This meaningless mission of ours has been continuing for quite a while now."

She continued, Naruto gazed straight into her eyes.

The young admiration, the youthfulness, the bright joy they once had ,vanished away like a mere memory.

"I killed him...with my own hands. The dark flames of my Amaterasu burned him alive. "

Face straight. Shikadai clenched his fists in a guilt hidden deep within his cores.

"He's dead. It's time you accept it, Nanadaime. "

Naruto's mouth opened though no words were formed.

This was probably the first time that he felt so small.

So small under the presence of this young girl who was the living image of his lost friend.

He said nothing.

Sensing the tense environment, Gaara decided to step in.

"You barely survived from death Naruto.. Don't be so hard on yourself. We should discuss this later. "

Naruto slapped the helping hand progressing towards his direction.

"DISCUSS WHAT?! "

He snapped abruptly standing up.

"You're kidding me.. I'm not naive..He's alive.. I can feel it! "

He stammered towards the center of the long meeting table.

"So don't fucking feed me those lies! "

Sarada's eyes widened, Kawaki held her back.

Her idol accusing her broke her heart even more.

"If you guys can't do it .Fine.. I'll go search for my son myself. "

At this point the Hokage's weak body had almost lost balance.

Kawaki grabbed him immediately. His eyes glaring worriedly.

"Tsk. Keep it down ,don't act like a child—"

His voice came out in soft sobs. Though inaudible, but Naruto caught it with ease.

"No doubt, you're as stubborn as he was—"

"No.. Shut up ..he's alive..DAMN IT! "

Naruto yelled with the most energy he could drain out of himself.

"He was a lost case Naruto.. I get you're taking it harder than anyone else,he was the only family you had left. "

The Tsuchikage had enough of it already. She sympathised with the Hokage but this whole situation was now turning stupid.

What's the point of searching for a dead person?

It'll only waste their time and resources while shattering the false hopes of his people again and again.

She gazed at Sarada, the Uchiha hid it with elegancy, though the woman could feel the pressure on her lips.

She bit them the slightest, if it weren't for her speech just now, the tsuchikage would've mistakenly assumed her to be grieving instead.

Sarada rarely speaks. But when she does, its always against the odds of what Kurotsuchi expected from her.

Her actions,her thoughts ,her words.

Everything were against the blonde rather in his defense. The woman could hardly believe they were childhood friends in the same team since years long.

Though there are few things the humankind can't control.

Emotions.

"Please.. Just let me.. Let me do it for once. I can't give up, I can't leave him be.. Not again. "

She heard Naruto whispering on the brink of his defeat.

Someone had to make the final call, either end this mess or start another.

And she couldn't think of a better person for the job.

"What do you say.. Uchiha ?" She saw the realisation dawning on the teenage girl.

Ever since the Hokage's health worsened, she's been taking charge.

Though it wasn't intentional, but her abilities proved her far more worthy of what was expected of her.

Now that the Hokage is back to health, she should've been freed from the duties, that were never meant to be bestowed on her.

Though accessing from the situation, it doesn't seems like things would be going back to normal anytime soon.

A short silence followed and Kurotsuchi could see the struggle brewing inside the girl.

If she ended this right here, which was a more logically appealing option, this meaningless argument would be washed away in no time.

The Hokage himself would calm down with time. Because that's how powerful it is. That's what time does.

It can heal every wound. No matter how deep. No matter how painful it is.

But the real question was. Does she wants it to end?

"Fine.. " The words came out as a deep sigh.

Kurotsuchi shared a look with Gaara while the Raikage doesn't seems to care either way.

The decision was made.

"I ask the kages to stop their search, we're handling the job personally from here on out. "

Sarada said, much like ordered. Even though she was in no position to, the kages didn't felt like denying the Uchiha.

"I hope you've thought this through, Uchiha.. I leave the Hokage in your hands.. "

A light nod and soon the room was emptied.

Naruto couldn't comprehend what happened before a light chuckle brought him back to reality.

It was kawaki.

The chuckles soon turned into a laugh. Though was it genuine or sarcastic, Naruto couldn't tell.

"You seriously don't know when to shut up do you? "

Naruto gasped.

"Stop laughing Kawaki this isn't a joke. You would've destroyed the whole plan. " Shikadai commented

"Welp I thought he would've done something even worse but anyways —" Chocho followed behind Sarada. Giving her shoulder a light pat.

"Sarada would've handled it either ways. "

Kawaki snorted. Sarada remained silent.

"You guys..." Naruto whispered gathering the remaining strength he had for the day.

"you.. you seriously weren't thinking of.. " Words couldn't form, everything muffled in his teary voice. Though he wasn't naive enough to cry in front of kids.

"You seriously thought we'll abandon him? "

A familiar voice echoed before Naruto turned his head.

Shikamaru entered, Sakura following behind.

Too many questions to ask, but naruto decided on the most important one for the time being.

"How did you guys —"

"For once.. We would've never thought you'll be the one to start it, not to say that I didn't expected this but anyways " Shikamaru chuckled hesitantly.

"The point is.. We already knew he was alive. We all sensed the slightest trail of his chakra when he teleported at the last moment when—"

Shikamaru's eyes landed on Sarada, he didn't complete the sentence.

"And the other, well we can't just ignore you Naruto, get that head of yours to work. You only confirmed our suspicion since you can sense his chakra far better then anyone of us because —. "

Shikamaru bended ,extended his hand towards the blonde. Naruto took it without another thought.

"—he's your son.. Your flesh and blood..Naruto"

Naruto felt his heart clenching at that.

His flesh and blood.

His family.

His son.

And yet he had the audacity to leave him all alone. To ignore his pain.

All this time. All these years.

Hot liquid streamed down his face, it was the time he finally broke.

"Whatever had happened it wasn't his fault..Neither was it yours ,Naruto.. " Shikamaru hugged him.

A few sobs left him.

He hates me. I deserve this.

"It was for the best if words don't get out of the hidden leaf. Your son has made more enemies in this world than the allies we have."

Naruto straightened at that, several worried gazes fixed on him.

"Even if he doesn't wants it.. I'll still find him. Even if that kills me."

He announced. Kawaki groaned at that.

"why is it always about killing and being killed with you two. "

And this was something coming from Kawaki.

A slight smile surfaced on Naruto's lips. Kawaki was right. Enough of this killing and dying spree already.

Since when did he of all people started worrying about that stuff.

A pat on his shoulder brought him back. Grey eyes darted straight.

"He won't kill you once he knows the truth." Kawaki spoke softly.

"Although that's not how that bastard is.. He won't kill you even if he doesn't knows shit. "

Naruto pondered. He knew next to nothing about his son.

"Hence we need to find him. We need to figure out..what is going on with him. "

But Kawaki did. They were brothers. How could he forget? Now he felt like hitting himself.

How can he ever think—

"We'll never abandon him Dad.. We never did. "

Kawaki finished with a genuine smile Naruto has never seen on his features before.

Sarada remained silent.

It was time to get to work.

...The other world ...

"Hmm.. "

"Perfect. " She mused. The blonde scoffed though didn't bother with a reply.

"He's Toshi"

Another boy entered the area, hair dark and messy.

Boruto observed him keenly as the latter bowed.

"He'll be your partner –"

The blonde's head waved in denial

"I'm not agreeing to this shit—'

"Don't make it harder for us than it already is ,you bastard." Aeneus interrupted.

"Remember, there's not a single reason we should trust you. "He barked , eyes harp like a blade.

Boruto's cheeks puffed in annoyance, Aretha giggled at the response though restrained herself from throwing a comment.

Boruto's figure darkened. Toshi said nothing.

"What do you even want me to do? Slay dragons for your sister? Or find a treasure map? "

He commented sarcastically.

"I can suggest something " He heard the princess say.

".. Start with explaining where you were the whole night. "

Aretha mused, yet her voice held deep seriousness. Even a fool would recognize she meant business

Aeneus gasped.

"What?! "

It was Boruto's turn to speak.

"How did you—"

"If you can't answer, Toshi is going with you. "

She added. Boruto clenched his fists.

"...fine.. "

Aretha clapped her hands together.

"Alright! Get to work you two, we're leaving for our grand introduction in an hour so don't be late! "

She waved and left, dragging Aeneus with her, who didn't seem to digest the fact that she wasn't the least interested in the blonde's explanation .

"Its a pleasure to meet you. Blue. "

Boruto gazed darkly, at the hand extended towards him.

Before he shoved him off.

Definitely a spy.

Was it because she caught him leaving last night? How did she even found out.

There were no traces of chakra near him.

"If you want to live.. Then don't get in my way. "

He left the room without sparing another glance at the red haired boy.

His mind racing towards the girl again and again.

She wasn't as naive as he assumed her to be.

A fault on his part. Never underestimate your enemy.

"What are you...? Bastard. "

He jumped out the window before dashing deep into the forests.

The sound of the waterfall getting louder and louder.

For the sake of hus dignity Boruto checked again.

No one was following him. Specially that Toshi guy.

Soon he arrived at the familiar landscape. A familiar chakra lingering around.

He was here.

"I've arrived . " He said. More like declared in a stern tone.

The leaves rustled, causing his head to bob back.

And before he could even sense it, a dark figure stood hovering over him.

And for the first time in years, he had felt smaller. Not just in height.

"About time..."

The man deadpanned. Looking at him straight in the eye.

"Took you long enough. "

The boy gulped.

If it weren't for the unbelievable mess he was suddenly shoved into, Boruto would've never imagined meeting him again.

Or experiencing it again.

Sasuke Uchiha's deathly stare.

#boruto fanfiction

[midnightdemonhunter]

Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees

#Danganronpa #yasuhiro hagakure #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #4d chess hiro #midnight draws #i had a sudden urge to colour a drawing #so voila! #very chill to make #hiro has nice calm vibes i think #lyrics are from The moss by cosmo shelldrake #every hiro pic has the lyrics from a hiro song

[wynnn]

Madara x adult sasuke (8)

#madasasu #sketch #there's no context to this #i just had this sudden urge to draw sasuke being pinned down #and with madara it is #i really really enjoyed colouring madara in the first panel #it's the blood really #colouring blood brings me joy #anyway i am still not satisfied with madara's torso in the middle pic #but it's ok #practice practice

[imaginedreamwrite]

Taken: Part 12

Bucky leaned against the red velour couch he was sitting on and drew his eyebrows together in a deep-set furrow as he listened to the proposition from the few men sitting across the table from himself and Steve. The usual business meeting was scheduled a few days in advance and had come after the news that your aunt would be released and had strict instructions to ‘rest.’

It was within the confines of the doctor’s orders that the ‘relationship’ between yourself and them had officially and publicly begun. You had minimal contact with them as they had played catch up after taking a few days to make sure your descent from your place to theirs was a smooth transition. With your home emptied and the lease ended with a few words with the leasing office that had found themselves eager to help, you had officially become entangled in their clutches.

And they were in yours.

After you had moved in and made yourself settled, and they had been busying themselves with the usual dealings, you had made yourself sparse with the promise that you would ‘show up later, with a few personal guards in tow that had been happy to watch you for a healthy pay raise.

However, with the few days they had spent busy with business and your sparsity, they had only a few hours to see you before they were called away again, and you had figuratively hissed at them to fuck off.

Ever the hell-cat, they had only grown more endeared to you.

“Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers, your-“ the arrival of one of their watchmen had disrupted the meeting, and it was a welcome distraction from the sorrowed ramblings of the men who were trying to bend over backward to appease them.

“This is where you’ve been hiding out. And here I thought you had better things to do than slum around.” Your voice had drawn more than a few eyes, had startled more than a few men, and yet when Bucky and Steve had glanced your way, they could’ve vowed to kill them all for looking at you as if you weren’t already taken.

Your appearance in a sleek and form-fitting black dress had been simple, and there was emphasis to the curve of your waist and hips by the inclusion of a slim red belt that had added a spark of colour. You looked sensual and breathtaking, the picture of grace and sophistication that would make a concise statement on your status and stance as their girl.

“Princess,” Steve’s lips twitched before a grin had grown on his face, and he had stood to greet you as you trounced around the table to his side, “you’ve been busy.”

“You haven’t.” You had rolled your eyes and leaned against him, your hands running up the expanse of his chest to his neck, your manicured fingernails digging into the shoulders of his jacket as you leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Is this impressionable enough for you?”

Bucky’s gaze fell to Steve’s arm around your waist and the flex of his fingers as he added to the image you were creating of being theirs, the proper first public step to making this all work.

You appeared like a living and breathing Aphrodite, a sudden appearance drawing both of their heady gazes to you. It was a distraction they would openly welcome, a distraction that would come at the most ideal time as they had grown bored with the mewling whims that the business owners had mumbled.

“Sit with us, kitten. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Bucky quipped, stealing your attention. “Come warm, daddy’s lap.”

Bucky hid the chuckle that threatened to spill from his lips when you had glowered at him. He had grown fond of your expressions, especially the ones formed from your annoyance. You indeed were a bit hellcat they enjoyed spending their time with, and it would be an everlasting life of them seeking to annoy you, and you bite back.

“Come on,” Bucky urged you with a nod of his head and a pat to his thigh, “I’m waiting.”

“You have access to knives?” You glanced at Steve, your hand peeling his arm off of you. “On a completely unrelated note.”

“Unrelated,” Steve captured your chin in his hands and leaned in to kiss you with fervour, “sure.”

Still, despite your annoyance and irritancy, you had stepped away from Steve. You had begun walking behind his space, trailing your fingers erotically against the back of the seat, swaying your hips back and forth as if you were conducting some erotic dance that had captured everyone’s gaze in the room.

“Bucky,” you leaned down and brushed your lips against the shell of his ear, whispering huskily in his ear as your hands slid down his shoulders and chest, sliding beneath the lapels of his jacket, “you use ‘daddy’ one more time, and I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you. Do I make myself clear?”

Bucky smirked and leaned back and placed his hands on top of yours, his fingers weaving in with yours. He had turned his head and brushed his lips against yours as he mumbled back his reply, his lips stretching into a smirk. “You think you can make demands, princess? You think you can tell daddy-“

“Mr. Barnes, if we might continue with the meeting. Perhaps without the presence of your….” A man sitting across the table had raised the awkward statement that had broken the headstrong and intimate moment, and when Bucky had pulled away, the man in question had recoiled and averted his eyes.

“Would you like to stay, honey?” Bucky turned his head and kissed the back of your hand intimately. “Or would you like to meet up later?”

The choice was yours to stay or leave, but if you had walked back out, you would miss an opportunity in front of you. You would miss the chance to publicly adhere yourself to Bucky and Steve, beginning the woven tale that would solidify you as theirs.

“I’m not leaving.” You spoke in defiance to the men who wished you to depart, and then you had stood up straight. Your fingertips grazed the back of his neck as you stalked slowly around the back of the lounger, your heels clicking against the tile floor.

“If you would be so kind,” you batted your eyelashes at Bucky and watched him shift, making space for you in his lap, “as to let me entertain you.”

You rest your left hand against his right shoulder and slowly sink onto his lap, your noses brushing against each other. You had leaned in closer, the material of your designer dress stretching across your breasts and the hemline of your skirt rising when Bucky placed a hand against your bare thigh and brushed his fingers along the curve of your smooth skin.

“You could do so much more.” Bucky had grown impatient and bored with the meeting; he had grown distracted by the men who spoke nothing but soft pitches and offers that would do nothing for them.

“Is this fine,” you leaned in, your lips tracing the outline of his jaw, “daddy?”

You knew exactly what you were doing; you knew how to play Bucky, how to play Steve. And they let you. There was no doubt in their mind, nor your own, that if they wanted you to stop fucking around, they wouldn’t dance around the demand.

Just as you would not hold back from telling them to fuck off.

“Repeat it, kitten.” Bucky raised his hand to the nape of your neck and drew you closer, closing the distance as your lips grazed each other.

“Daddy.” You muttered, slipping your tongue from your mouth to drag along his bottom lip, warmth bursting within you as he grunted with deeply rooted desire, and the moment has shifted from a ruse to be seen in public together to an intense and electrifying moment.

Your hand placement shifted to his shoulders as you threw your right leg around his left, straddling him as you sank onto his lap. You had felt the immediate twitch of his trapped and strained erection against you, the hardened point drawing an airy whine from your throat as he shifted beneath you, thrusting himself into you.

“Meetings over. Get out.” Steve had stood, he had spoken four words, and they were gone.

There was no argument, no course of action they could take to stop the two men from making a demand, and it was carried out immediately. It was innate, the way they scattered and with their departure, the way the staff at the private restaurant had circled back and made sure the area was completely closed off.

All it took was an order. All it took was a simple demand, and they had gotten what they wanted when they wanted it.

“Wow. Flexing your abilities, aren’t you, Steve?” You pulled away and sank onto Bucky’s lap, his throbbing erection pressed into the softness of your ass.

“This is your fault, sweetheart.” Steve held your gaze, holding your attention as he started undoing his suit jacket. Each dark button popped to reveal the crisp white dress shirt that had barely obscured the thick biceps beneath the well-made and well-fitting shirt. He had thrown his jacket to the table and then had focused his attention on undoing the buttons around the cuffs of his sleeves, retaining your attention as he had freed access and began rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

Steve had tucked the ends of his cuff into the raised roll at his elbows, and then he had moved his hands to his belt, his thumbs hooking into the loops of his well-tailored suit pants, drawing your attention to the sleek black Italian belt hanging above his hips.

“Hmm, and I suppose your hard-on is my fault too?” You teased, shifting your weight and grinding your ass against Bucky, countering the subtle thrust of his hips, and he had begun a sensuous trail down your neck to your jawline, his teeth nipping at your skin. He had tasted you on his tongue and felt you quiver within his hands.

“You have no idea.” Steve’s fingers trailed along with the metal tongue of his belt as he tugged on the rod, dislodging it from the sleek leather. As the leather had separated from the notch in his belt, Steve had grabbed the left side and yanked it free from the belt loops and tossed it aside like his suit jacket. The delicate ting of the metal hitting glass was almost electric.

“Eyes on Bucky.” Steve’s voice had deepened with unbridled lust and hunger, the sharp order coming a mere moment before Bucky had gently grasped your chin and turned your head. His intense gaze had captivated yours, and he held it with resolve; the clear and nonverbal directive to keep yourself on his lip, to keep grinding against you, had been taken without a fight.

You had gripped the front of his suit jacket and spread your legs as wide as you could in the dress, and started rocking your hips against him. Pleasure had begun swiftly when your cunt, covered only by a thin and lacy strip of fabric, had rubbed against the seam of his pants. He was strained by that same seam, trapped within cloth that was as constrictive, and it was arousing.

Bucky had pulled you closer and wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, butting the heel of the base to keep your mouth against his. He was swallowing your whines and whimpers with every stroke of his tongue against yours, and the moment was distracting enough to keep you from seeing Steve.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you hadn’t felt him until you heard him, “and you are going to cum for us.”

“Are you sure about that?” You pulled away from Bucky and looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. “Are you sure-“

“Eyes on Bucky, princess.” Steve had clutched his hard and throbbing cock with one hand and used the other hand to turn your head back, and as you had looked back at Bucky, Steve leaned in and placed soft open-mouth kisses to your neck, his teeth grazing your flesh. “You wanna feel me?”

“Bucky-” you couldn’t protest, and you had submitted yourself to whine against him.

“It’s okay.” His voice was tender, his touch affectionate. “It’s okay, Y/N. You can let go.”

You fell against him in the act of trust and consensual submission; you fell against his chest and into his embrace. As his hands had encircled your waist, you felt the gentle prod of Steve’s seeping, dripping cock against your cunt, as if this was the first time he was touching you.

It felt wholly intimate, despite being in a private dining room at a high-end restaurant. It felt as if the entire world had faded and turned to dust, save for you and Bucky and Steve. Nothing else had mattered; nothing else had garnered your attention, like the feeling of Bucky’s mouth on your flesh, nipping his marks into your skin and cooling the heat rising beneath the surface with his tongue.

Nothing else had mattered but the gentle stretch of your pussy around Steve’s thick girth and the soft humming of his praise in your ear. It felt like nonsense, every word that was whispered in your ear with the rise and fall of his voice as he filled you with his hard cock.

You felt the tip, you felt the twitch of his seeping head against your cervix, and the subtle flex of his shaft as it was filling every spare inch of your cunt, as it was filling every missing piece of you. He had stayed there, with his cock sheathed within your pussy. He had yet to move; he had let you feel the stretch, feel the warmth of his dick, of himself and Bucky keeping you trapped between them. ‘This was a safe place,’ Bucky had reiterated with every stroke of his tongue, with every flex of his fingers.

“You’re safe with us.” Steve had brushed your hair off your shoulders and mumbled into the junction of your neck and shoulders. “You’re safe.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath as Steve started to move, as he began to thrust his cock in and out of you languidly. It was slow, and it was sensuous. There was no rush as you ground yourself against Bucky, as Steve had stroked your inner walls with his cock. There was no need to be hurried, no urgency as you were devoured between them.

You had moaned their names, a near-constant mantra that had fallen from your lips as you were rocking your hips back and forth against Bucky, grinding into him while Steve was behind you whispering sweet murmurs into your hairline as he grabbed your hips and held you steady, using all manner of control to bring you pleasure that was slow-building. Steve had the power to keep the pace soft and tender, despite your increased whines and cries, as you begged for more.

They had resisted your cries, your pleas and had taken their time. They were in no rush; there was no real urgency as they had felt you quivering beneath and above them. They had touched you; they had tasted you.

“I can’t…” you whimpered and dropped your forehead to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m going to cum.”

“Let me feel you.” Steve’s husky voice in your ear had elicited another moan, another soft whine as you bucked your hips and then shuddered. Your cunt was squeezing his cock, your pussy walls tightening around his throbbing length as you reached that peak. You moaned their names through the thick and heady tidal wall of pleasure that had slammed right into you. Their names had fallen from your lips as you rode the high, as you felt nothing but Bucky’s hands running up and down your sides and his lips moving against your neck. You felt nothing but Steve’s thrusts continuing until he had met his end, and then you felt his cock throb within you. It wasn’t a minute later than you had felt that surge of secondary pleasure when his thick, hot seed had started to coat your walls.

You could feel every breath, every rise and fall of his chest against your back. You could feel the warmth of him, of Bucky, caressing you undoubtedly as you revelled in it. It was endless and endearing, and when you thought it was over, when you thought the tenderness had ended, you had been proven wrong.

Steve had gently reached around your front and tilt your head back, his hand wrapped around your throat with his thumb brushing against your chin. He had bent down and kissed you breathlessly, an outpouring of everything he had felt conveyed in that earth shattering tender moment.

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