#ladies and gents...i cannot stop shaking

[cemetewydwive]

all I do is tremble

#actuallytraumatized #actuallymentallyill #vent #actuallyanxious #ladies and gents...i cannot stop shaking #actuallyabused #anxiety #paranoia #words #crow// #srry it deadass looks like it belongs on a twilight book

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Word of the day {13}

Oneshot summary; Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes returns from his deployment in Europe and waiting for him are you. What you get to know while waiting for him on the dock, however, is that he never missed a beat telling everyone about you.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Oneshot

Word; 2.7k

Warnings; nothing but pure and sickly sweet fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

MAIN MASTERLIST

ADVENT CALANDER MASTERLIST

"You cannot be serious!" You gasped, earning a few glances from the ladies and gents around you, much too similar waiting for their respective soldier to find them.

"No, I am perfectly serious", she contains her giggles as you feel heat flush your face. "If I only had those letters with me to show you". You were incredibly relieved that was not the case. Thus, if you would have read what dear Nancy's sergeant had written to her about what your very won said about to the chaps in camp, you would no be able to look any of them in the eye. As if not simply hearing about it was enough.

"Heavens forbid I ever see them", this time, it was not you who pulled the attentions from those around you by laughter awfully boisterous in a crowd like this.

"Why be so bashful about your cookie grandstanding you in front of his men?"

"I find the explanation quite clearly in the question itself", you rebutted, eyes averting from looking at your dear friend to sweep over the crowd. Yet, so far, you could not see the face you had waited for during months.

"Well, I do have to say you struck lucky with a dreamboat like the Barnes boy is, so you will just need to suffer his unbelievable torture", the blonde put the back of her hand against her forehead in a dramatic pose.

"Oh, hush with you, you menace", you could not but shake your head as she let her hand fall with a giggle.

"Please, do let me hear what I have missed". You believe you whipped around faster than Nancy's eyes could flicker to watch the person behind you. Though, you found it near impossible from how swiftly you whipped around.

You knew that voice anywhere. That smooth, dallying voice that cut through the crowds combined sounds of squeals and sighs of relief upon seeing their soldier return.

"James!" The smile already pinning your lips did not have time to reach your eyes before you shot forwards. Instinctually, he let go of the bag he had carried and opened his arms. His handsome smile flashed in the corner of your eye when you, for the first time in months, could wrap your arms around his neck.

Your soldier picked you up, spinning you around, so the skirt of your dress fluttered in the breeze created. A giggle slipped past your lips, humoured by his antics always being the same when you met him at the dock.

Although, when he set you down, the usual peck to the nose or lips was not what met you. Bucky kept his arms around your waist and pulled you close to his chest, lips slotting against yours.

It was far from the passionate kisses you had shared in the dark. Nevertheless, being in a crowd like this and initiating something even remotely close to the smooch the brunette was, made your body burn. Neither did it get any better when you heard the whistles and cheers from the chaps in his division. And though James did, his lips did not break from yours in more than an amused grin.

However, noticing you were in full swing of turning into someone on the jazz floor to not be in the centre of attention, one of his arms left from around you to pluck the cap off his head. Lowering it in such a manner that your face was hidden behind it.

Now, shielded from at least one view by his soldier hat, the hurrahs from his lads ceased into chuckles as they went off to find their dearest ones. Thus, stopping your squirming and simply relishing the kiss that turned less passionate and into a mere brush of your lips.

"Hi there, baby-doll", he whispered, making all those butterflies in your stomach erupt at once. The heat that earlier had spread throughout your body when not only Nancy told you Bucky had flaunted you like his most precious darling to his men, but their reactions endorsing that as well turned into a giddy sensation.

"Hello, Sergeant", you pecked his lips before leaning away, staring into those blues that currently was partly shielded by the strands of his hair that had fallen down upon haphazardly taking off his hat. "Glad to have you back".

"And I am happy to be back and meet my peach", the sides of his lips remained tugged upwards as he placed his cap on your head. It slipped down slightly, but he nudged it upwards with his fingers, revealing the cocky tilt of his head as he stared down at you.

"I just may go under from the two of you", it was Nancy's words that finally broke you out from your spell, causing not only you to turn around and face her but Bucky to look from you to the blonde.

She was standing there with a big grin, red lips nearly stretching over her entire lower face.

Always the gentleman, James greeted your friend with a tip of his head. "Hey, Nance". The nickname he had come to use for her made the blonde shake her head.

"Hi to you too, Bucky".

"Are you still waiting for the Williams boy?" She could not help but roll eyes at his teasing tone. Neither could you, in fact.

Nancy and her sweetheart had quite the history. Your friend had always been stuck on Conny Williams. Although the feelings had been requited, her father had condemned her for preferring a man with a boys mind. Not until the war came around the corner and he did not hesitate to enlist -proving himself as good of a soldier as Bucky and becoming sergeant- her father was persuaded.

"Yes, I am still waiting for Conny", she replied, eyes sweeping over the gathering momentarily. Similarly to what you had done earlier when you tried to spot either of your beaus.

"He will take some time, got held back by the Colonel". Upon hearing what Bucky said, her eyes instantly snapped to watch the brunette.

"What did he do now then?"

"Nothing, in fact, he wanted to praise the Seargents for a good deed done in this trip". Now it was your turn to react to his words.

"And why are you here and not there then?" You looked up at him, brows pinched.

"Because I could not contain myself to wait any longer to meet you", he grinned, though your eyes simply widened.

"James! You can not simply take such decisions!"

"Ease up", he chuckled, seeing how worked up you got from his carefree way. "They went by divisions, so I was first to get the praise and then go".

"Do not joke with me like that", you sighed, knowing very well he was a Seargent and may have influence, but not so much he could slip away from the order of his superiors.

"Am I to presume you have not missed me enough to be happy I would have done that for you?"

"Absolutely not", you replied, gripping the hat resting on top of your head. With your free hand, you pushed the strands falling into his view backwards before placing the cap on its rightful owner once more. "But no matter how much I miss you, I do not want you to misbehave before your superiors have excused you".

A glint entered his eyes. "So, you want me to misbehave now?"

"I think you already have", you thought back on his kiss, nearly feeling the heat enter your face once more. Although Bucky, able to be as big of a menace as Nancy, did it even worse when he leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"But you know I can do it even more", you do not even know what the noise you let out was meant to be, but it was something between a chirp, squeal and giggle.

"You are a pain in the neck, Barnes", you tried concealing the flush travelling through your entire body by lowering your face and shaking your head. Although the soldier simply chuckled, hooking his finger beneath your chin.

"You love it".

"I do", you sighed, thankful he came back in one piece.

"Good, otherwise I do not know how I would have handled going back to our place", Bucky released you, bending down to hoist the sack that had been forgotten until now over his shoulder. Although you were bursting to simply go home with him, you turned to Nancy. You had said you would wait for your boys together, thinking they would get released simultaneously. It would be unfair to leave her after saying that, but as if she could read your mind, she held up a hand.

"No, do not even ask the question", she cut you off even before you voiced if you should stay with her. "You two go".

"But-". The blonde made a dismissing sound, silencing you.

"You heard the orders, doll". Bucky stepped up beside you, circling your waist.

"I swear, you to love working against me sometimes", the two of them shared a look, both returning to look at you with equally as big smiles.

"Indeed", Nancy said. And with that, you were pulled away with Bucky.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

After months of listening to the record player on your own, not being able to hear the reminders of the war each and every day on the radio, therefore it reminded you of your soldier risking his life for not only his, but other countries safety. It almost felt bizarre to have the very man you had tried to not think and worry about every single second walk around the space.

It was not the first time it happened. Bucky had been away on two rounds during your time together. Still, when he returned, you could not help to look at him each time he passed by you in the cramped home you had the honour of calling yours. Months may feel long in ordinary cases, but it felt like they spanned for even longer when your soldier was away. Consequently, making it feel like your life changed entirely in that time, so much you almost needed to get used to not being alone anymore.

But now he was back. Bucky was back with you. A sight you never grew tired of.

"If you let the necklace hang any longer in the air, a magpie will come and grab it", your eyes flickered to watch Bucky where he stood in the doorway from your bedroom. His cotton shirt had only been stuffed into his pants while the leather suspenders sat in their place. However, he had yet to bottom it up.

"James, your mind is still in Europe. We do not have any magpies in Brooklyn". It did not seem he caught his own mistake, not until you pointed it out.

"Crows then, even nastier creatures", he shrugged. "They seem to be as hard-boiled wherever you are". You knew where the distaste of the black birds came from. It was not an everyday occurrence. But a few times, Bucky had told you of what he had seen on the other continent. He left out the worst of things, those not even he was able to think about, yet he had told you of the crows so seemingly unbothered by the atrocity lining the wake of war.

"Do the lady need help?" You snapped out of your thought, blinking a few times to regain attention to the man who had left his place by the door and come to stand behind you. He was holding his hands up, waiting to overtake the ends of the chain he had gifted you before he left.

"If the gentlemen offer", you smiled and let him overtake the silver chain. You and Bucky have decided to go and dance, hence the dressing up of the both of you. Afterwards, you would meet up with Steve, seeing how it was equally as long ago as the two best friends had seen each other.

When you felt the pendant fall against your skin, you could not help but raise your hands instantly, fingers playing with the lithe heart weighing the chain down. Neither did it seem Bucky could step out of the movement to simply linger in the presence of you, seeing how he came to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your mid-drift.

He swayed side to side, gently causing your body to do the same to the jazz music. Yes, it did indeed feel good to have him back.

Sinking further into his body, you let go of the pendant, hand coming to rest on his arms.

You smiled upon seeing his eyes had closed in the mirror. He looked serene like this. None of those groves that had matured his face while fighting in the war present. But, as if he had felt your gaze set upon him, his eyelids fluttered open.

Those stormy blues with specks of turquoise in them locked with yours. Although they did not stay separated by a reflective surface for long, regarding how Bucky turned you in his arms.

"Never do I think I have seen you spiff yourself up like this". Your soldier looked at your hair pinned into a semi-updo resilient enough to withstand even the most vigorous of swing dancing, face painted and powdered -finished off with red coloured lips- and a flared dress in a pretty cream colour covering your body. Still, his eyes lingered the most on the pendant resting in the hollow of your throat before meeting your eyes again was.

"I have someone's return to celebrate, so why not?" He started to sway again with enough velocity your dress waved back and forth. Even so, you were still standing in one place in the parlour instead of the amount f moving around you soon would do.

"Not one single man will have their eyes to themselves", he hummed.

"Good that I only have eyes for my man then". A genuine smile quirked his lips before he leaned down and pecked your lips multiple times until you could not help but lean away with a giggle so at least some of your lipstick would remain throughout the night.

"I come to remember you and Nancy were laughing like that when I interrupted you earlier. Care to tell your man of what you were gossiping about?"

"No", you replied, but with a few digs and wriggles of his fingers against your ribcage, he managed to make you laugh and cease. "Fine, fine".

"So?" His habit of wanting to know what you and your friends gossiped about deriving from growing up in a family mainly consisting of women. And he could not hide his curiosity. You saw it plainly in those blues of his.

"She just happened to tell how Conny mentioned you in his letters to her". He cocked a brow. Disabling you from holding back a snicker of laughter.

"Of what I may wonder?"

"That you could not stop running that pretty kisser of your about me in camp". Instantly, both his brows shot up as his smile widened and he stepped around, so you needed to follow him into a slow spin, not until going back to just swaying back and forth did he decide to speak.

"Can you fault me for it when I have a dame so far out of my league?"

"Some would say it is the other way around, Mr Dreamboat".

"Dreamboat?" Bucky cocked his head, smile turning into a toothy grin gleaming down at you.

"Nancy used it and it fits you", you shrugged.

"I knew she liked me beneath that ritzy persona".

"Hey, you knew I do not like that word", you chastised him with a firm press of your fingers against his side.

"Because that is the word which makes me wonder why you chose a delinquent like me over all the fine gentry?"

"A ladies man like you, you mean", instead of answering and continuing your bickering, Bucky chuckled, leaving a kiss on your forehead before stepping away.

"I should gather my last things so we can be on our way".

"Do so. I would hate for Steve to wat for us as we come running from our dancing simply because you took too long", he sent you a quirked brow as he began to return to your shared bedroom.

"You have spent too much time with him that you are starting to get his antics".

"Have not... jerk", you teased him by using his closest pal's nickname, one he barked with laughter at when it came from you.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky x reader fluff #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #Bucky Barnes #40s bucky #40s bucky x reader #40s!bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #MCU fic #MCU #Marvel MCU #captain america #captain america the first avenger

[griffintail]

Blow Us All Away

Pairings: Parental! Wilbur x F! Reader

Warnings: Blood Mention, Duel, Death

A/N: This is literally all over the SMP timeline the basic thing is Revivebur or Ghostbur didn't happen and L'Manberg is still a standing country. This is an idea I randomly had for my Lost Ones character Little Star and decided to just write it.

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

Meet the latest graduate of King's College

I prob'ly shouldn't brag, but, dag, I amaze and astonish

The scholars say I got the same virtuosity and brains as my pops

The gents say my brain's not where the resemblance stops

I'm only nineteen but my mind is older

Gotta be my own person, like my father, but bolder

I shoulder his legacy with pride, I used to hear him say

That someday I would blow us all away!

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

(Y/N) was always proud to consider herself Wilbur’s daughter. She had his fire and brains. He taught her his talents of music and she was able to learn with ease. She’d walk around with pride with her L’Manberg uniform, wearing and bearing her titles with pride.

The daughter of the nation’s president and a soon-to-be cabinet member. Her father was confident she could do just about anything and would most certainly succeed him with ease once she got older.

Today though, she was a lady on a mission. She had her uniform on as always but she had her hands behind her back, a serious look plastered onto her face. Ahead on her walk down the prime path, she spotted Niki and Eret talking.

“Ladies, I'm lookin for a Ms. Wastaken. Made a speech last week, our peace talk speaker. She disparaged my father's legacy in front of a crowd. I can't have that; I'm making my father proud.” (Y/N) stopped in front of the pair explain herself.

“I saw her just up Broadway a couple of blocks, she was goin' to see a play,” Eret told the girl.

“Well, I'll go visit her box.” (Y/N) tipped her hat before going to the stage in the SMP land.

As (Y/N) got to the stage, there was currently being a play put on people she didn’t know but that didn’t matter to her right now. She was a lady on a mission. In the high seats sat the daughter of Dream and that was her goal.

“Terror!” (Y/N) came forward in front of her seat.

“Shh!” Terror didn’t even look at her.

“Terror!”

“Shh, I'm tryin' to watch the show!”

“Ya shoulda watched your mouth before you talked about my father though!”(Y/N) protested as the other finally looked at her.

Around them, the crowd had become less interested in the play as they watched the far more interesting events in front of them.

“I didn't say anything that wasn't true. Your father's a coward, and so, it seems, are you.”

(Y/N) gave a short laugh as she watched her. “It's like that?”

“Yeah, I don't fool around, I'm not your little school girl friends.”

“Well, see you on the dueling ground! That is unless you wanna step outside and go now!”(Y/N) challenged with spread arms.

“I know where to find you, piss off, I'm watchin' this show now.” Terror once more didn’t look at the other woman on the ground.

(Y/N) clenched her jaw but stormed off. She’d show her! She’d win that duel and Terror would…

She stopped near Tubbo’s old house realizing what she had just done. That’s one thing Wilbur had never taught her; she didn’t know how to fight. They were a peaceful nation that didn’t need to fight. They used their words and she just signed herself up to use weapons.

“Fuck.” She muttered as she looked around.

She tended to overstep herself when it came to standing for her father, but this time she’d stepped too far. She didn’t know what to do, she needed help. There was no way she’d let Wilbur know what she did, but she knew one person that would keep a secret and she took off. Stopping outside the odd building, she knocked on the door and after a few moments, the fox hybrid opened the door, tail flicking seeing his sister.

“(Y/N), hey. What’s up?” Fundy asked, moving to let her.

“Fundy, I challenged Terror to a duel.” She admitted immediately as she walked in.

“You what?!” His fur puffed up as he closed his door hurriedly. “Why would you do that?!”

“It just slipped! She talked shit about dad Fundy! Fundy, if you had only heard the shit, she said about him; I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to!” She threw her hands up as she paced.

“Slow down.” Fundy tried to calm her as he took her shoulders.

“I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel. They don't exactly cover this subject in L’Manberg.” She sighed.

“Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace?”

“She refused to apologize, we had to let the peace talks cease.”

“Where is this happening?”

“Across the river, in Las Nevadas.”

“Everything is legal in Las Nevadas.” They both nodded.

“Alright, so this is what you're gonna do. Stand there like proud until Terror is in front of you. When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air. This will put an end to the whole affair.”

“But what if she decides to shoot? Then I'm a goner.”

“No, she'll follow suit if she's truly a woman of honor. To take someone's life, that is something you can't shake (Y/N), our father can't take another heartbreak.” He muttered, looking away for a moment, as he thought of everything that happened recently.

Their father was certainly having a hard time with all of it and they both knew it but (Y/N) didn’t just want to stand there. That felt like proving Terror right.

“Fundy!” She protested.

“Promise me.” He looked back at her as he thought about the war. “You don't want this young woman's blood on your conscience.”

She hesitated before sighing as she nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

“Come back home when you're done.” Fundy patted her shoulder before going to his weapons chest and pulling out his old bow and handed it to her. “Take my bow, be smart, make me proud, sis.”

(Y/N) took the bow, staring at it before nodding. Putting it on her back, she took a deep breath before leaving Fundy’s home and went towards Las Nevadas.

“My name is (Y/N). I am a musician. And I'm a little nervous, but I can't show it. I'm sorry, I'm a Soot with pride. You talk about my father; I cannot let it slide.” She sang to herself the familiar beat she knew.

Before she knew it, she was in Las Nevadas and Terror was standing there with a few souls that had seen from the play to watch how this act ended and a few faces she recognized that must have heard about the duel about to occur. She just hoped her father hadn’t heard how she wasn’t using her words.

“Terror, how was the rest of your show?” (Y/N) asked as she came forward.

“I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go.” Terror told her, moving her mask from the side of her face to the front. “Grab your bow.”

(Y/N) nodded as she took off the bow. “Confer with your men. The duel will commence after we count to ten.”

(Y/N) went to her position as everyone started to shift with excitement and nervousness. A few citizens from Las Nevadas had become curious and came to see.

“Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher.” (Y/N) muttered to herself as she gripped onto the bow. “Summon all the courage you require. Then slowly and clearly aim your bow towards the sky.”

The counting started and they began to take their paces.

One, two, three.

(Y/N) pulled the string back and aimed it up.

Four, five, six.

Before most of the crowd could react, Terror turned on her heel with her bowstring pulled back.

Seven.

And the bowstring was released and (Y/N) let out a cry as she fell to the ground. Blood was already starting to quickly pour as Terror scoffed.

“And now that’s done.” Terror said, walking away as a few people went to help the other.

Everything was blurry for (Y/N). Everything seemed so fast but so slow. She didn’t know what was happening, she didn’t know where she was. All she could feel was pain and dizziness consuming her. She didn’t even hear as there was a call on the walkie about what happened as Foolish carried her to a cleaner location to hopefully heal her.

Fundy’s blood went cold when he heard the call on the radio and bolted for Las Nevadas. He demanded to know where his little sister was and once he found out where she was, he booked it for there too.

~~~~~~~~

Stay Alive

Stay Alive

~~~~~~~~

Fundy made it to Foolish had brought her and was ready to barge his way through every room to find her when Foolish stepped out.

“Where's my sister?” Fundy demanded.

“Fundy, come in, I brought her in a half an hour ago. She lost a lot of blood on the way over.” Foolish explained to him.

“Is she alive?” Fundy felt the tears in his eyes.

“Yes, but you have to understand. The arrow entered just above her hip and lodged in her right arm.”

“Can I see her please?”

“I'm doing everything I can but the wound was already infected when she arrived.” Foolish told him as he hesitantly led him to where (Y/N) was.

“(Y/N)!” Fundy rushed to her side, gently putting a hand on her forehead as Foolish let them be.

The pain had started to numb and (Y/N) could vaguely see her brother as she was able to hear him clearly.

“Fundy. I did exactly as you said, Fundy. I held my head up high.”

“I know, I know, shh.”

“High—” (Y/N) tried to continue but stumbled over her words.

“I know, I know, shh. I know you did everything just right.” Fundy assured her as tears spilled from his eyes.

“Even before we got to ten.” She needed to explain what happened, she needed him to know even as he gently shushed her. “I was aiming for the sky. I was aiming for the sky.”

“I know, I know, shh. I know, save your strength and stay alive.” Fundy pleaded with her as his ears went flat and his tail wrapped around his leg.

That’s when Fundy heard furious and upset shouting. Fundy squeezed his eyes shut as he knew one of those voices by heart and sure enough, not a moment later Wilbur came bursting through the door.

Wilbur’s heart had dropped the moment he heard about (Y/N) being injured. His little star…He didn’t know what happened, but he sprinted as fast as he could towards the country of Las Nevadas, demanding answers. His little girl had been in a duel…

The other side had been cheap and shot her before they even got to ten. And his daughter, his little star, his (Y/N), had aimed her bow towards the sky. When she made it out of this, he’d let her know how proud he was of her.

Yet, now he stood in the doorway, seeing his daughter barely together, a small bit of blood still collecting around her…

“No!” Wilbur shouted as he rushed over, Fundy moving back to let their father be by her side.

“Dad,” Fundy muttered.

“Is she breathing? Is she going to survive this?” Wilbur looked towards Foolish, who stood quietly at the door, before Wilbur looked at Fundy. “Who did this, Fundy, did you know?”

“Dad.”Wilbur looked at his daughter and took her hand carefully and put his forehead on hers as he teared up. “I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.”

“My daughter.”Wilbur choked up as he squeezed her hand, Fundy putting a hand over his mouth behind them.

“We played guitar.”

“I taught you guitar.”

“You would put your hands on mine.”

“You changed the melody every time.” Wilbur laughed quietly at the memory as tears were pouring down his cheeks.

“I would always change the line.” (Y/N) muttered as her grip started to weaken.

“Shh, I know, I know.” Wilbur shushed her gently as his grip only went tighter.

“I would always change the line.”

“I know, I know.” He had to keep her awake and talking if she stopped…! “Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”

“Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.” (Y/N) repeated quietly.

“Good. Un-deux-trois-quatre-cinq-six-sept-huit-neuf.”

“Un-deux-trois…” She repeated partially with him before her eyes began to droop then closed.

“Sept-huit-neuf. Sept-huit—” Wilbur pleaded before he let out a sob as she didn’t respond.

Fundy sobbed as well as she was gone…

#wilbur soot x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt oneshots #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #dreamsmp x reader

[aloysiavirgata]

Xenia

Title: Xenia By: Aloysia Virgata Rating: PG Category: MSR Timeline: X Cops Summary: Brunch in WIllow Park Notes: For @perplexistan​, who came up with this amazing idea.

***

He’s staring out the window into the grungy hotel courtyard when he hears the knock at the door. Mulder frowns and, against all recommendation, tucks his gun into the waistband of his boxers. He approaches the door as though it may be on fire. “Hello?” he calls.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He puts his gun on top of the microwave, unfastens the three locks to admit Scully. “What’s up, buttercup?”

She’s snapping a pink card against her palm, scowling as she passes beneath his arm. “Brunch,” she says.

Mulder shuts the door before following her to the bed. She’s hunched there like a tiny storm cell, glowering, gathering steam. He decides against a romantic overture, though it’s been a week since she last spent the night and he wants to...to lick her.

“Brunch?” he repeats.

She holds the card out. “Sergeant Duthie has accepted an invitation on our behalf.”

Mulder, baffled, takes it from her. The card is flamingo pink, ornamented with two palm trees and two gold-rimmed champagne glasses. In careful gold calligraphy, it invites them to join Steve and Edy for BRUNCH AND BUBBLY! at 10:30.

His jaw drops. “You cannot possibly be serious.”

She snatches it back from him. “Serious as hantavirus. I hope you brought something in a nice madras.”

He sits next to her on the bed, stunned. “Why has Sergeant Duthie done this to us? We were helpful, Scully. You rendered medical aid. You did a late night autopsy out of the goodness of your heart.”

Scully, prim, tucks the card into her jacket pocket. “I did a late night autopsy because you’re bossy and demanding, but that isn’t the point.”

“Do we have to go?” he asks, like she’s his mother.

Scully glares at him. “’Do we have to go?’” she mimics in a falsetto. “Of course we have to go, we’ll look awful if we don’t. The tabloid headlines will practically write themselves. FBI SNUBS LOCAL NEIGHBORHOOD COUPLE. You wanted to go charging around on camera talking about fear monsters for the noble cause of cryptozoology and look where it got us.”

He sighs. “Well, of everyone we encountered on that little goose chase, they’re not awful. I wouldn’t want to have brunch at the crack house.”

She chews the inside of her cheek, stewing. “I can’t believe this.”

Mulder thumps her back in a comradely manner.  “The food will probably be decent, right? Probably good coffee, too. Not to mention the bubbly!”

Scully scrunches her nose, pressing her hand to her eyes. “Mulder, I swear to God…”

The event begins to take shape in his mind, Steve and Edy’s tidy home with little morsels on trays. He tries to remember the campy snacks his mother ordered for her bridge club. Lots of puff pastry and ornamental parsley.

Scully gets to her feet. “Well, shower and iron your seersucker suit,” she says gloomily. “I’ll call a cab.”

“It’ll be fun,” he says, excited as always by any novel experience. He considers too that Scully needs to be socialized more often, and it’s not like he takes her on real dates. This will be good for her. He will make her enjoy herself, he decides.

“Oh, I can’t wait for you to get halfway through your third mimosa and start dispensing relationship advice,” Scully says. “Between Edy and Hollman, maybe you should quit the FBI and start a romance column.”

��I get no kick from champaaaaaagne,” he croons.

“Mulder.”

“Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all…”

“MULDER.”

“So tell me why should it be true, that I get a kick out of you?”

His gun falls off the microwave when she slams the door.

***

The driver takes them to a decrepit looking stucco building to procure a hostess gift from what he assures them is the best bakery within 20 miles. Dubious, Mulder and Scully follow him inside. Behind the ancient formica counter, a withered old woman brandishing an immense wooden spoon speaks loudly with the cabbie for several moments in an unknown tongue. He points at his fares, gesturing broadly.

Mulder tries to look respectable, the kind of person who deserves only the finest. He nudges Scully, who offers a vague wave at the proprietress.

The old woman considers them for a moment, then chooses several items from her display case. She secures them in a tidy parcel, which she passes to Scully, who accepts it like an IED.

The woman beckons Mulder down to her and when he obliges, bent nearly double, she pinches his cheek and whacks his arm in a loving manner with the spoon.

Scully, delighted, pays and tips her generously before they get back on their way.

***

The cab stops in front of Steve and Edy’s house. Mulder, who feels this is all becoming a splendid adventure, praises the cabbie for his excellent service. He leaves an extra five on the front seat before they get out.

Scully holds the bakery box with a mournful air. “Well,” she says. “Here we are.”

Mulder opens the gate in the chain link fence, striding along the walkway to the house. He is already on the porch, examining the empty birdcage, when she trudges up.

He chucks her under the chin. “Smile pretty.”

Her nostrils flare, but there is no other response.

Mulder knocks at the door, and is greeted almost immediately by Edy. She is wearing tropical print harem pants, a purple tunic, and a white turban ornamented with a tremendous topaz brooch and a single peacock feather. She squeals delightedly and flings her arms around him.

“AY-gent Mulder,” Edy gushes. “Well don’t you look mighty handsome. And Agent Scully, child, you did NOT have to bring a GIFT.”

Mulder extricates himself from Edy’s grasp. “Thanks, uh, for having us. It wasn’t necessary.”

“No,” Scully pipes up. “It really wasn’t.”

Edy waves her elegant hand. “It is absolutely our pleasure. Now come on in.” She swans into the kitchen, leaving them stranded in the living room. The house smells gloriously of food.

Scully shuts the door with her hip. “Um,” she says.

Mulder directs his attention to a collection of ceramic animals on a shelf. A little seal balances a ball on its snout, so shiny it looks like hard candy.

Steve emerges from the hallway, dapper in a crisp button down. “I heard her fussing from the bathroom,” he says. “She changed her outfit five times.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to feel wanted,” Mulder observes. He looks at the vase of flowers on the table, the bright cloth beneath it. The sweet domesticity tugs at him.

“We brought this,” Scully says, nearly shoving the box into Steve’s hands.

Steve takes it, smiling. “Well, isn’t that mighty nice of you? You went to Sofia, that place is real good. Bulgarian.” He places the box on the table. “Go on and take a seat, just going to help out in the kitchen.”

They sit across from one another at the table after he disappears from view. Mulder rubs his arm. “I think the bakery lady left a mark.”

“You’re probably betrothed now.” Scully toys with a crystal salt shaker. “Some old Bulgarian custom.”

“Jealous?”

She offers a moue of disdain.

Edy emerges from the kitchen with a bar cart. As predicted, there are flutes of mimosas on the top of it, and a whole pitcher besides. The rest is loaded with food. “TaDAAAAA!” Edy sings, with a grand flourish.

“Edy, this is too much,” Mulder says, rubbing his hands together. Even Scully looks impressed.

“She’s been busy all morning,” Steve says proudly, hands on her shoulders.

Edy beams, hands them each a plate of Eggs Benedict. “I make that Hollandaise myself,” she says, taking her seat as the peacock feather sways. “Grow the lemons out back, too. All this out back.” She surveys her table, a presiding empress. 

Steve unloads the rest of the cart, plates of fruit and tiny tomato sandwiches and cheese straws. A mound of home fries glossy with butter and fragrant with browned onions.

“Don’t forget the bubbly,” Edy says, scandalized. “We need a toast.”

Steve dutifully passes them each a mimosa before sitting down. 

Edy lifts her glass. “Well, I will just say thank you to our new friends from the FBI who are doing their best to keep us safe even with a bunch of skanky-ass crackheads running around, may they rest in peace. Amen.”

Scully is staring at the table, chewing hard on her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

Mulder doesn’t dare try to catch her eye. “Uh, amen,” he says, and takes a sip of his drink. He blinks; Edy has a heavy pour.

“I squeezed that juice myself too,” Edy says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You sound like the Little Red Hen, you gonna let us eat or what?”

“I told you he disrespects me,” she mutters into her glass.

Scully has recovered herself and is cutting into her egg, which spills golden yolk onto her plate. She removes a wedge of the sandwich with surgical precision and puts it into her mouth, wary. Her face brightens as she chews. “Edy, this is delicious.”

Mulder is proud of Edy.

“My Granny Minerva taught me to cook,” she says. “I grew up with her mostly, in the Lowcountry.”

Mulder perks up. “Oh, did you? My grandparents had a place in Hilton Head.”

Edy snorts. “Mmmhmmm, I bet they did. I bet you’re a trust fund baby to the cradle, you have pretty hands.”

Scully laughs around a chunk of watermelon, sputters and coughs. She presses a cloth napkin to her mouth, blushing pink as the fruit.

“You okay?” Steve asks, his brow furrowed. “You need a drink?”

Scully, still magenta, shakes her head and gulps half of her mimosa. “I’m fine,” she manages. Mouths “pretty hands” to Mulder.

Mulder scowls at her. 

“ANNNyway,” Edy continues. “I lived with Granny and I learned all her secrets.” She gestures at the tomato sandwich on Mulder’s plate. “The trick is you pat the tomatoes dry first, did you know that, Hilton Head?”

Steve refills his glass. “She lived with Granny Minerva because her mama was a runaround.”

Edy whips her head around. “I have TOLD you not to disrespect my mama.”

Steve purses his lips but says no more. 

Mulder applies himself to his Eggs Benedict, which is rich and delicious and speaks highly of Granny Minerva. Scully is nibbling a cheese straw with interest.

Edy props her chin in her palm, tapping her cheek with her fingers. “The FBI, now what is that like to do? It seems real scary to me.” She looks at Mulder through her extravagant lashes.”Real daaaangerous,” she purrs.

Scully’s lower lip is back between her teeth.

Mulder chases a potato around his plate with his fork. “Well, uh, it depends, I guess. I mean sometimes, sure, it’s pretty dangerous I guess, depending, but we have a lot of training and all and there’s paperwork mostly too, which is only dangerous if you get the math wrong and there’s an audit, haha, so…” he trails off.

“Agent Mulder just doesn’t want you to feel concerned,” Scully interjects smoothly. “Situations like the one you experienced are exactly what we’ve been trained to do, so there’s no need to be worried. We go through a pretty extensive program in the Academy.” She spears a slice of kiwi and pops it into her mouth.

Mulder could kiss her, right in front of Steve and Edy and God and everybody. Haul the camera crew back for all he cares. But he knows better. She’ll get there on her own.

Edy fans herself. “I just can’t imagine.  We are too glad you were here.”

“Baby, they brought dessert from Sofia,” Steve says. “Wasn’t that nice?”

She claps her hands happily. “Ooohhh, that little old Bulgarian lady runs that place.”

“She hit me with a spoon,” Mulder says, pointing at his arm. “About took my cheek off too.”

“That means she likes you,” Steve tells him. 

“Giiirrrl, you better watch out,” Edy warns Scully, with a knowing expression. “She’ll snap him right up.”

Scully looks alarmed. “Pardon?”

Edy smirks. “You may have trained at the A-cad-emy, but I studied theater and I can read all kinds of things in people.”

Scully’s face has gone from alarm to panic, and Mulder knows she is trying to recall every word, every movement the cameramen may have captured.

“Theater?” he asks, to divert her. “You’re an actress, Edy?”

Steve puts his head in his hands. “Lord help us.”

She gets to her feet, arms held out like a goddess on a Grecian urn. “My sister Veronica and I did this double act and my husband, Charlie, traveled around with us. Now for the last number - “

“Chicago!” Mulder exclaims, then is embarrassed.

They all look at him in surprise. 

“You like musicals, Agent Mulder?” Edy asks, practically glowing. “What’s your favorite?”

“Yes, Agent Mulder, what’s your favorite?” Scully asks, eyes dancing.

He draws little squiggles in the remains of his Hollandaise sauce. “Oh, just, my mom used to take us to shows, you know, when I was a kid.”

“But your favorite,” Scully insists, because she is mean.

“Chicago’s good,” he mumbles. He will never tell her the real answer, which is My Fair Lady.

“Honey, Chicago is the BEST.” Edy goes to a bookshelf and removes a large album.

“Ohhhh, no!” Steve asserts. “Didn’t I already tell you nobody wants to see your ass? Now go on and put that back.”

Edy glides back haughtily, places the book on the table, oriented towards Mulder. She opens it to a page with a glossy 8x10 of her as Velma Kelly, in all her black sequined bodysuited glory.

“Wow,” Mulder says, feeling sympathetic pain as he looks at the bodysuit.

“Virgin Indian hair on that wig,” Edy says, tapping the photo. She stares at Scully.

Scully leans forward to examine the photo. “You look really nice.”

Edy turns a few pages to another picture. She is luxuriating in a claw foot tub, one leg draped over the edge. The bubbly water is at a strategic depth between her legs. Mulder feels as though he should avert his eyes, but gazes on.

“Now these,” Edy says, “are from some modeling I did for a boudoir photographer.”

Steve groans. “Baby, why?”

“It is called art,” she snaps. “Now Agent Scully, girl to girl, you understand this. Sometimes you just want a record of you at your best, you want to share that with your man.” 

Scully smiles blankly. “Mm.”

Mulder studies the picture with renewed interest. “A boudoir photographer?” he asks.

Edy favors Scully with a sly glance. “See that’s what I thought.  It’s very tasteful, isn’t it?” She turns the page, displaying herself in a ruffled white corset, heeled white ankle boots, and a lace parasol. “It’s very elegant.”

It is, strangely enough. Mulder assumes there must be boudoir photographers in DC. He can import one, if necessary. From the edge of his peripheral vision, he sees Scully studiously peeling a grape.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” Steve says. “Honey, go put those pictures back so they don’t get ruined.”

Edy, looking triumphant, gives Mulder a saucy wink before sashaying back to the bookshelf.

“Lord,” Steve mumbles. He opens the bakery box, then smiles. “You tell her you were coming here?” he asks. “You got all my favorites.”

“I think the cabbie must have,” Scully says, abandoning her grape. “They were talking for a bit, but we didn’t know what they were saying. We never even mentioned your names, I guess he knew the address.”

“Musta been Anzhelo,” Edy says, settling on Steve’s lap. “That’s her grandson, he helps me with my garden a little bit. That boy is always hustling.”

Steve puts a golden pastry oozing honey onto his plate. He cuts off a morsel with his fork and feeds it to his lady, who giggles. 

Mulder smiles at them. “This, uh, this has been really wonderful, but we have to go get our stuff together for the flight home.”

Edy pouts. “Well, that’s a shame. You oughtta stay another day or so, we could show you around town. We know everybody.”

Steve moves on to a dense wedge of chocolate cake. “Lots of walnuts in this, you got any allergies?”

Scully holds up a hand. “No, thank you, I’m qui-“

“She’s gotta keep her cute figure for that boudoir photographer,” Edy says. She licks honey off of her fingers.

“Can we help you tidy up?” Scully asks, as though Edy hasn’t spoken.

“I got it,” Steve says. “That’s our system. You go on back to your hotel, I’ll call Anzhelo.” He pats Edy on the side, and she gets up so he can head to the phone.

“Where’s the restroom, please?” Scully asks.

Steve sprawls on the red velvet sofa, pointing her down the hall. He picks up the receiver and starts dialing.

Mulder watches Scully disappear around the corner, wondering if he would like to thank Edy or strangle her.

“He'll be here in just a few,” Steve says from the couch. “I called him on his cell phone, how times change.”

“You tell her not to worry,” Edy says with a wink, resting her hand on Mulder’s shoulder. “The cameras don’t get everything.”

Mulder adopts what he hopes is a confused expression and shrugs. He busies himself stacking plates, pausing to take a swipe of chocolate frosting with his finger. He downs the rest of his second mimosa, considers a third.

Scully emerges then, her hair smoothed and her lipstick freshened. “Again, thank you both for the hospitality.”

“You better call us when you’re in town again,” Edy says, wagging a stern finger. “I will hold you to that, Agents.”

There is a honk outside. “Oh, that’s our cue,” Mulder says, rising. He reaches for the small of Scully’s back but it feels conspicuous now. He converts the motion to a wave.

Edy follows them to the door, blowing kisses all the way.

They climb into the waiting cab. “You like my grandmother's baking?” Anzhelo asks, peeling away from the curb.

“Phenomenal,” Scully says, because she is kind. “We’re stuffed.”

Anzhelo smiles proudly in the rear view.

Mulder slumps against the door. “I feel like one of those big snakes after it eats a whole wildebeest. I need to sleep off all that food.”

“I was a little ambitious myself,” Scully says. She sits up straighter, eyes wide. “Oh, Mulder. Oh shit. You know Bill watches Cops?”

Of course he does, of course. Mulder makes a noise of dismay, unable to address this news on so full a stomach and so heavy a head.

“Mulder, he’s going to see every terrible minute and just snap,” she moans. “Werewolves!”

Mulder, buzzy, imagines Bill and Tara on the couch, eating Corn Nuts, when his sister appears onscreen. He imagines Bill leaping to his feet in outrage, scattering a plate of Li’l Smokies cooked in grape jelly. He starts laughing.

Scully punches him in the arm. “It’s not funny, Mulder!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, holding up his hands in defense. He is still laughing.

“Oh my god, the Wasp Man! Mulder did you say anything awful when you were unattended?”

Tears are running down his face at this point. It’s all so ridiculous. Bill in his base housing, finding out that his sister was two hours away chasing invisible monsters and crackheads without even calling. Mulder thinks he may, if suitably provoked, let him know what else his sister has been doing.

He smiles darkly to himself.

Scully punches his arm again, harder, and he stops laughing. 

“Ow,” he says, sulky. “It’s nothing he doesn’t know.”

She hides her face in her hands. “I could just die.”

Mulder draws her onto her side, curled with her glossy head in his lap. He strokes her smooth pixie cap of hair, the color of autumn in New England.

“I hate you,” she mumbles into his thigh.

He traces her ear. “I know,” he soothes. 

“So much.”

“Yes.”

“And you can stop thinking about boudoir photographers, because it’s not happening.” She traces little shapes on his knees.

“Mmm,” he says, non-committal. Mulder pets her until they pull up at the hotel, and he has to get to his wallet. He pays Anzhelo and sends regards to his grandmother, to Steve and Edy.

They clamber out, Scully blinking in the vivid sunlight. Anzhelo waves from the window as he drives off.

“You ready to go home?” Mulder asks.

She looks up at him. “No photographer,” she says again. “But.”

He’s intrigued. “But?”

“My room has a corner tub. It’s not, uh, a claw foot or anything, but it’s pretty roomy.” Scully looks shy as she takes his hand. “This is still weird,” she confesses.

“Yeah. But it’s, I think it’s good weird, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, squeezes his fingers.

He kisses her in the bright LA sunshine, in front of the bellhop and the taxis and God and everybody. She doesn’t pull away, puts her arms around him in fact, and still the world turns and turns and turns.

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #x cops #steve and edy

[okay-klepto]

August Walker loves Big Girls

I watched MI: Fallout and I am on the train that August Walker dates exclusively big girls.  No, this is not up for debate.  If I say he prefers big girls, he prefers big girls.  No ifs, ands, or buts.

And for the record, I am not talking about girls with big boobs and a big butt.  No, no, no.  I’m talking big butt, big (maybe) boobs, big arms, big tummy, big thighs, big calves, big cheeks.  BIG!  The more squish the better!

#1: Just look him him.  Big, chubby, curvy, plus sized, fat, round: whatever you call them, August wants them.  You cannot tell me this man hasn’t hit on every single plus sized lady he works with.  You cannot tell me that he doesn’t linger a little too long in front of Torrid when he goes to the mall.  Seeing curvy girls in swimsuits does him in every time.  

#2: I feel like Mission Impossible actually kinda verifies this?  Maybe he’s just a gent or maybe he was just focused on the mission, but I don’t think he ever really made eyes at any girls in the movies (there weren’t that many but whatever).  He’s not like Napoleon Solo; ladies with the bodies of Victoria’s Secret models do nothing for him.  He needs someone with a bit of boom, y’know?  

#3: He ABSOLUTELY dotes on every lady he is with.  He can be gone for months at a time depending on what he’s doing, so whenever he’s home, he never leaves her side.  He showers her in gifts (quite often pieces of lingerie), makes her favorite meals, and his hands never leave her skin.

Now, what everyone’s been waiting for.  In order to better explain, here is a little imagine scene (featuring you, the reader) for your enjoyment:

Where to begin?  Cuddling.  Spooning his is favorite bc he can put his arm under your shirt and around the largest and softest part of your tummy and smush his arm in to hold you tight.  When you two are just chilling on the couch, August likes to keep his hand either around your waist or on your thigh, rubbing it lovingly. You get lots of kisses and thigh rubs in bed when you're laying on his chest, too. He wants you in his arms at all time, especially after he gets back from a longer mission.  It sometimes hinders you ability to, like, do the stuff you want to do during the day, but you love him too.

He also loves giving you all of you favorite foods when he’s home.  August is not a picky eater, so whatever you want, he will happily eat.  He loves cooking with you, too, but he does get distracted watching you do your thing.  He also tends to want to snack and taste test things when you two are in the kitchen together, which you do not enjoy bc he will end up eating everything before the meal is even ready.  You want to have a meal, too!  August is also more than happy to go out to eat with you or get take out some nights.  You both like trying new foods to dinner time is a big event in your house some days. He does tend to eat all of the popcorn too fast during a movie night in.

August also loves everything you wear.  He will buy you just about anything you want, but you try not to ask for too much clothing.  August also likes getting clothes for himself, too.  Summer is his favorite season for you bc it means shorts and mini skirts and swimsuits. In his eyes, the more skin the better. Dresses and tops and shoes and jewelry are fun to get (oh yeah, he decks you out in fine jewelry), but he really prefers bringing home lingerie for you.  He is observant when you are shopping online.  If you start eyeing something you like, you can almost always expect it to show up a week or two later.  He loves seeing you all dressed up in something silky or lace at night.  He likes anything that you like to put on, but he enjoys taking it off more.

August would never dare mention or ask you about losing weight.  Never in a million years.  Health concerns are another thing.  If you go to the doctor and they mention you losing weight to help with another issue, August does not harp on you about losing weight.  You two can talk and figure out little changes to your diets, or he might ask if you want to come work out with him more often.  August believes that healthy and skinny are not synonyms.  If you ever expressed wanting to lose weight, August won’t stop you.  Your body is your body, but he does love all of those curves you sport.  That definitely helps when you are feeling self conscious about your body.  He showers you in love and compliments at even the smallest sign of shyness or sadness.  Anyone who says you don’t look like a goddess is flat out wrong.  But you’re August’s goddess.  If he catches anyone eyeing you, he goes full territorial and possessive animal mode.

Now for the smexy part.  I’m gonna cut to the chase: August just wants to eat the pussy.  August’s prefered way of dying is suffocating between your thighs while eating you out.  He kneels on the ground while you lay on the bed and he goes to town.  He doesn’t finish until you are crying and your legs are shaking.  And honestly, any position where we can watch you, he loves.  Sometimes he’s in the mood to do it from behind so he can smack your ass while ploughing in, but once again, whatever you want, he’s down for.  You wanna ride him?  Amazing, he can see every inch of you and he can play with your tits all he wants.  Missionary?  Wonderful.  He loves your tummy moving with every thrust.  Toys?  Bondage?  Spanking?  Almost any other kinky stuff?  As long as it’s with you, he’s down for trying it with you.  And if you've had a rough body image day, August is there is love every inch - every roll, every bump, every stretch mark, every single spot. It's praise and love and praise and love until you've completely forgotten what you worried aboit. You two will sometimes take a both together after particularly intense nights, and he loves being in the warm water with you with his hands around you.  He’ll kiss you neck and whisper sweet nothings to you for hours.  Then there is mandatory cuddling (preferably nude) in bed.  See above for those deets.

When you get together with August, he takes it upon himself to keep your pussy wet, ass fat, and heart happy bc no one in the world matters more to him than you.

#there it is folks #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker imagine #chubby reader #fluff #: ) #i may add to or change this later

[secret-engima]

i sent you an ask a while ago about cor vs nyx time traveling chaos and you mentioned them BOTH going back which immediately made me think of the possibility of them going back as like, twin LCs

No.

NO.

DON’T MAKE ME MAKE A NEW AU.

*screams off into the ether*

*comes back*

ALRIGHT FINE BUCKLE UP LADIES AND GENTS AND TUMBLR DENIZENS I HAVE A NEW TWIN AU AND I’M RAMBLING.

-Nyx and Cor don’t MEAN to time-travel. Either of them. They just kinda .... do?

-They both wake up in the same clearing, with the words of the Astral that dumped them here (Ramuh) in their ears, sit up and realize they aren’t alone.

-Things are ... kinda stiff between them at first. They don’t know what’s going on, or where they are. All they remember is their respective lives before getting snatched by Ramuh.

-They at least know who the other is, and compare notes on what happened as they wander the definitely-not-ravaged-by-the-Long-Night wilds. Nyx is more than a little surprised to realize that his mirror double is Cor the Immortal, but that’s not ... the WEIRDEST thing going on right now. So.

-No. The weirdest thing going on right now is that they are both like- SIX YEARS OLD. And that they now look identical. Both of them are blue-eyed (Cor’s shade of blue, which irritates Nyx because why couldn’t he keep his own eye color at least?), with wispy black hair that is 100% Nyx’s, and cheekbones that belong to neither of them.

-Also magic.

-Cor is already quietly hitting his head against a tree before Nyx figures out what the clues all add up to.

-Nyx is not a happy camper when he realizes what has happened (read: when Cor explains it in between blistering language a Furia would blush at).

-Also Nyx still has the scars from his Death-By-Ring. Rippling, branching scars  running up his arm and along his cheek and temple on that side of his face. They’re white and “old” but still very, very noticeable.

-Cor and Nyx exchange stories as they wander the wilds, murdering wildlife that tries to eat them and hiding from the daemons at night (they both don't sleep well, because they’re one, children, two, Nyx has night terrors of dying, and three, Cor is terrified that if he goes to sleep he’ll wake up to find the sun gone.

-They finally reach civilization after about a month of bonding in the wilds over Shared Trauma and plans to change fate (Nyx is NOT HAPPY about the Prophecy KTHANKS HE DIDN’T DIE JUST FOR BAHAMUT TO KILL THE YOUNG KING AND PRINCESS) depending on where they are in the past.

-The civilization they find is Hammerhead, and the newspaper they snitch and huddle over tells them the year is 728. One year before Mors dies.

-Nyx manages to hiss the “What the-” in a non-child friendly phrase right as Cid finds them and startles them by asking where their parents are. Since a Startled Nyx is a Warptastic Nyx, there goes the bloodline secret in 0.02 seconds.

-Cor could Strangle™ Nyx if he wasn’t already 120% done with the time-travel thing and already planning to be a tiny prophecy smashing gremlin. Getting a speed ticket to Citadel via Cid, who will take them to Regis rather than Mors, is the safest option he could hope for honestly.

-So yea Cid collars the scruffy, underweight, dressed-in-rags-and-animal-skins twins and calls Regis to yell at him and that’s how Regis learns he is a dad of two Smol Feral 6 year olds at age 22.

-Regis drives out to Hammerhead with Clarus and COR so that his father doesn’t learn about this JUST yet and Time!Cor has a long moment of dysphoria staring at his Angry Teenage Self. While the Cor’s hold a staring contest, Nyx is a mess because the king he saw die is THERE and thoroughly convinced he’s Nyx’s DAD and Nyx CANNOT DEAL kthanks. Regis asks for their names and Nyx blurts out the first ones he can think of that aren’t Obviously Owned Already (Romulus and Remus and no Cor is NEVER going to forgive Nyx for that) and Regis is just- Regis is an Overwhelmed Die inside because KIDS. HE HAS KIDS. TWO TINY FERAL SIX YEAR OLDS WEARING ANIMAL FUR. ONE OF THEM IS TRYING TO BITE COR (admittedly Cor started it, COR STOP THAT). A few questions reveals they’ve been on their own in the wilds for “a while” using their magic and Regis is even MORE of a die.

-The question of where their mother is, where their other relatives are, is answered by Romulus (Cor) shutting down entirely and Remus (Nyx) hunching and shivering and whispering one word.

-That word is “Nifs”.

-Regis has to turn around and go pace in the parking lot with heat waves shimmering off his shoulders before he stops seeing red.

-Regis takes them home, Cid goes with because he and Regis may be on rocky terms but Cid does love Regis, and he loves kids, and he doesn’t trust Mors to “take this well” as far as he can throw the adamantoise.

-Cid is right.

-Mors does not take it well At All.

-Mors says some ... things that horrify Regis, because he would NEVER have thought his father capable of sinking so low. Makes demands about the children Regis has “created out of wedlock”. One of those demands is that they cannot be heirs and they must never be revealed to the court, they must be taken away and hidden somewhere to preserve Regis’s image and the “public trust”. Regis has no intentions to do this, obviously but Romulus, who has been spacing into the distance trying to astral project as a means of not crying his eyes out at the sight of a living Regis and Clarus, senses Mors’ hands reaching for Remus (his-his-his his only friend his only companion who understands his only safety for the last month his BROTHER HIS TWIN) and

-Cold hands cold magic demands-demands-demands. A leash in another’s hands, the burning apathy of a blacksmith beating a living weapon into shape, the taste of his own blood in his mouth as he trains-trains-trains and is found wanting.

-Cold hands cold magic reaching reaching touching touching burning burning engraving knowledge into his being his core his SOUL

-The knowledge forged in his spine-heart-soul-mind written in his blood on the ground and his scars in the mirror.

-Better to die than be a failure.

-He

-S N A P S.

-By the time he comes back to himself, it’s to Remus holding him tight around the waist making shushing noises while Romulus presses them both into a corner, his back to Remus and the taste of blood (not his blood he knows what his blood tastes like this isn’t it who’s blood is this-) in his mouth as he clutches at a sword too big for his tiny body, a silver armiger bristling like spines. He has no memory of how he went from glaring at the wall while Regis and Mors argued to huddling here in the corner with his magic screaming around him in blades and spitting flakes of ice.

-There is no sign of Mors in the room.

-Regis is there. Regis and Clarus on the far side of the room, trying to talk to him, and something tells him they’ve been talking for a while.

-It’s Cor, his younger self, his previous self, that he locks eyes with from across the room, and it’s Cor who looks murderous in his understanding as he briskly orders Regis and Clarus and Cid out of the room.

-The silence when they leave is heavy.

-Cor settles down on the farthest side of the room, his sword propped on his shoulder and his shoulders intentionally relaxed. He’s treating Romulus like a frightened animal, an abused animal, and it’s working more than he wants it too.

-The adult part of Romulus curses his lack of control, how being in a younger body effects his actions so much more than he wants it to.

-The rest of him doesn’t care.

-It takes an hour for Romulus to finally drop the Armiger, but he doesn’t move from the corner, or acknowledge Remus trying to nudge his way free of the corner.

-It takes another 30 minutes for Cor to deem Romulus “present” enough to ask, “Is he still alive?” The man who hurt you. The man who Mors reminded you of.

-Romulus just laughs until his little body starts to cry. It’s answer enough.

-Cor becomes their only adult touchstone for a while. They stay in the massive royal suite (Regis’s suite, Romulus knows from years of experience and Remus from the occasional guard duty). Regis doesn’t come in, but Romulus can sense him at the door a few times, and Cor’s phone is constantly dinging with messages that are probably from Regis or Clarus.

-When Cor finally lets another adult into the suite again (bristling protectively the entire time), Romulus and Remus find out that their timeline? Yeah. It already got thrown out the window.

-Regis comes in.

-He’s wearing the Ring.

-Romulus stares, Remus doesn’t know better to realize what is wrong with that picture. There is something hard in the set of Regis’s shoulders, something weary and protective and ... jaded. Jaded like Regis��hadn’t been until years after Mors death when Regis finally dug out the deepest, nastiest secrets of his father’s reign.

-”Is he dead?” Romulus asks numbly.

-Regis follows his gaze to the Ring, and his expression shifts to surprise, then a black sort of anger, then a careful, tired gentleness, “No. But his health was failing. So I ... convinced him ... to step down. He won’t be coming near you again. Not unless you ask.” Regis’s voice cracks and there is a love and a pain in his magic as it tentatively wraps around the twins that makes Romulus realize Just What Regis thinks is the source of Romulus’s violent panic attack, “No one will come near you or touch you unless you ask first.”

-And something in Romulus keens, just a little, at the reassurance of those words. His issues aren’t what Regis thinks they are but ... it’s a relief. Even though his time-table is now even shorter with Regis having put on the Ring and become king a year early .... it’s a relief. To know that Mors won’t come near him or Remus again.

-Romulus doesn’t bother to stop his tears (this is his king, his sword-brother, his best friend, his FATHER of both lifetimes even if this is the first one in blood) as he tentatively steps forward all the way to where Regis is kneeling.

-He can feel Regis shake with suppressed tears as he carefully wraps his arms around Regis’s waist and whispers thank you.

-He’s surprised when Remus joins him, because the glaive only knew Regis as king, but there is a loyalty, a grateful devotion in the man turned boy turned brother that is so deep and vibrant it rings in the air in his magic. A loyalty that could so easily turn into love just like the unconditional, all-powerful love settling on their shoulders like a blanket as Regis oh so tentatively rests a hand on their heads.

-Somewhere in the future that never will be again, the gears of prophecy groan and crack.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Time Travel Twins verse #Cor Leonis #nyx ulric #tw: rape #very very obliquely implied #romulus and remus #ye #ffxv au #time travel #long post

[cyberhwas]

↬ pairing/characters: hercules! mingi x reader, wooyoung as terpishchore (muse of dance), seonghwa as erato (muse of love poetry), hongjoong as euterpe (muse of music), jongho as polyhymnia (muse of hymns), san as clio (muse of history), yeosang as thaila (muse of comedy), and yunho as urania (muse of astronomy)

↬ genre: fluff, heavy angst, mutual pining, greek mythology au 

↬ tw: mentions of death, light swearing, soul-selling,  servitude, unrequited love (im so sorry yall), major character death (oops) 

↬ disclaimers: may contain slight inaccuracies concerning dates, i have changed a bit of the story to make it less intense 

↬ rating: m, 18+ 

↬ wc: 10k (atm) 

↬ summary: you felt your heart ache at the utter anger and confusion on mingi’s face. “you lied to me?” “yes, but i-” “but you what? thought it would be amusing to lead me on? to rip my heart out?” you flinched at the coldness in mingi’s voice. “please, i can explain-” mingi shook his head, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “i never want to see you again, and don’t you ever think for one second that i’m going to come to rescue you from whatever danger you might face. you disgust me.” he snapped, his voice as hard as steel. you could only watch, helplessly, as the man you truly loved walked away, taking your heart with him. 

↬ note: hello friends!! this is the sequel to my previous fic, “i won’t say i’m in love”! thank you all for supporting me and my mediocre writing, and i hope you enjoy reading this!! stay safe and healthy, my loves!! 

“why, why am i afraid?” - ateez (mist

you hummed quietly to yourself as you sat on the edge of the low wall that surrounded the garden, letting your feet dangle in the air, mindlessly swinging them back and forth. the night air was cool and crisp, and the moon was glowing serenely against the midnight blue sky, bathing the garden in a soft, white light. it was late, and yet, despite the hectic evening you’d had, you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. 

seonghwa, san, and the others had reluctantly disappeared into their small cottage to retire for the night, after you had assured them that you were just going to sit around in the garden for a few minutes before joining them. your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. after all, you had just confessed your deepest and darkest secret to the people you considered family, and they hadn’t scorned or turned you away like you thought they would. however, you weren’t sure how you were going to gather up the courage to tell mingi. 

you scoffed, immediately erasing the idea from your mind. don’t be ridiculous, it’s not like he would care anyways. besides, you’re not supposed to fall for him, you’re supposed to break his heart, so it doesn’t matter what he thinks of you.  you ignored the bile rising in your throat. at first, you had thought that the task would be easy, as you were sure you weren’t ever going to fall for someone again, especially not after  the way your past romance had ended tragically. 

you clenched the soft fabric of your blue chiton in your hands, feeling angry tears prick at the corner of your eyes. you hated feeling so conflicted, especially over someone of the opposite sex. after all, men had done nothing but disappoint you, and your ex lover had proved that true. 

seonghwa couldn’t sleep. he was too worried about you, especially now that he knew that hades had a motive to hurt you. his heart had ached as you broke down and told everyone your secret. he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair and looked around him. even in the darkness of the small room, he could just make out the vibrant blue of hongjoong’s hair, yeosang’s light blonde hair, wooyoung and san curled up against one another, and jongho and yunho sprawled out on the bed across from him. seonghwa allowed himself a small, fond smile. he was grateful that he was able to spend time with his family every day, and that they were always safe and sound at the end of the day. 

seonghwa reluctantly slid out of his warm bed, shrugged his worn sandals on, slipped out the door and into the cool night. he wandered mindlessly around the garden, admiring how the blue and pink flowers that grew in its vicinity stood out against the dark of the night. the air was cool and soothing against his skin as he wandered farther, mind swimming with thoughts. 

suddenly, seonghwa heard faint sobs, and felt his blood run cold.  he wandered into a more secluded part of the garden, and felt his heart drop into his stomach. you were sitting at the edge of the low wall that surrounded the perimeter of the garden, hands gripping the soft fabric of your chiton so hard that your knuckles were turning white, and your body was shaking with soft sobs. seonghwa immediately ran over to you, throwing his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “h-hwa. I-i’m s-sorry, did i wake you?” his heart ached at how dejected you sounded. 

seonghwa shook his head, hugging you tighter and rubbing comforting circles on your back. “i couldn’t sleep.” “i’m sorry for worrying you, i just needed to clear my head.” “y/n, stop apologizing. you did nothing wrong, and the fact that you mustered up the courage to tell us your secret must’ve been hard for you.” you sniffled and buried your face in the crook of his neck, letting out a shaky breath. “it was, but i didn’t want to keep lying to everyone. none of you deserve to be lied to, not after all you all have done for me.” 

“darling, please, none of what you did is your fault. it’s that godsdamn jerk hades. and never feel afraid to come to any of us for comfort, we are always here for you, ok?” seonghwa felt you nod weakly, and allowed himself a small smile. “good. now, let’s get back inside before you freeze to death.” you chuckled, despite yourself. “hwa, it’s not even cold.” “don’t you dare argue with me, young lady.” seonghwa scolded lightheartedly. you rolled your eyes, glad he couldn’t see it as he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. “yes, father.” that earned you a playful glare. “i am not that old, you know!” you laughed, reaching up and ruffling seonghwa’s hair affectionately. “whatever you say, old man.” 

you woke up the next morning to find yunho practically wrapped around you, his soft black hair tickling your cheek, and you smiled fondly, remembering all the nights you spent as kids curled up next to the muses you had come to call family, feeling safe and secure. the early morning sun cast beams of light across the floor of the small cottage, bathing it in gold. 

you slowly and carefully extricated yourself from yunho’s grip and headed outside to see if seonghwa needed help with tending to the garden. said male would wake up before everyone to tend to every plant and flower that occupied it, and you felt that helping seonghwa was the least you could to do to thank him for comforting you last night. 

sure enough, seonghwa was bent over a bed of roses, golden eyes searching for any deformities. “hwa!” you called, and the former’s expression lit up, a fond smile tugging at his lips, waving you over. “how are the roses doing?” you asked, admiring how the pink rose petals stood out against the dark soil.   “they’re alright, despite this weather.” you hummed thoughtfully, reaching out and lightly touching the rose petals, velvet soft against your skin. “thank you.” “for what?” seonghwa asked, moving on to another cluster of flowers, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “for last night. for comforting me.” the love muse’s expression went soft, golden eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “no need to thank me, darling. you’ve been through so much, and you deserve to have comfort. besides, we’re practically family, and we’re all supposed to there for each other, no matter what.” 

you smiled, reaching out and taking seonghwa’s hand in yours, squeezing gently. “do you need help with the flowers?” the former shook his head, black hair falling across his forehead. “well, is there anything i can do?” seonghwa smiled. “you can help me by waking the others up.” you groaned, knowing how difficult that was. “that’s going to take centuries, hwa!” “well, the flowers aren’t going to tend to themselves.” “aren’t you the muse of love poetry?” “yeah, and what about it? i am perfectly capable of taking care of nature.” you laughed, reaching out and ruffling seonghwa’s hair affectionately. “of course you are. now, if you’ll excuse me, i need to go wake up our little band of gremlins.” seonghwa chuckled softly as you turned and skipped towards the cottage, your heart seemingly lighter than before. 

it had taken nearly forty five minutes to wake everyone up, save hongjoong, who had actually gotten up as soon as you had gently shaken his shoulder. the others had been a bit more difficult, especially jongho and yeosang, who were notorious for sleeping in late. another twenty minutes later, breakfast was served, and it had been fruit, a few vegetables, bread, and cheese that seonghwa had managed to snag from the local market earlier that morning. then, yunho suggested that they lay out underneath the huge tree that took up a portion of the garden, of which everyone had agreed to, to your surprise. 

“when are you going to be done sulking?” “not sulking.” mingi mumbled, leaning against the tree he’d been sitting under for the past few hours, the bark rough against his back. maddox scoffed. “yeah, and i’m a descendant of zeus. you’re not fooling anyone, kid.” mingi sighed. “i just-” “missing her already?” 

 he felt his face burn. “s-shut up.” “there’s no need to be embarrassed, you know. i know i tease, but i genuinely want to see you happy, kid. you deserve it.” 

“what if she doesn’t feel the same?” mingi mumbled, blush deepening. he felt silly, pining after a girl he barely knew, but you were unlike anyone he had met. he heard maddox scoff. “please, that girl cannot fool anyone, even with her tough and stubborn façade.” “even if she liked me, would we even work?” maddox’s expression softened just a fraction, and he moved forward, placing a gentle hand on mingi’s shoulder, as if in comfort. “that’s something you’ll have to figure out yourself, kid.” mingi huffed. “that’s what i’ve been trying to do.” “give it time, it’ll come to you eventually.”

 mingi’s mind was still heavy with conflict as he walked along a long dirt path that would lead him to the cottage he resided in. even though he had been offered nicer accommodation in the city, mingi preferred to live in a more secluded area and one that was closer to nature. the late evening air was crisp and clean as he ventured further down the path, mind constantly wandering. his conversation with maddox earlier that day had done little to soothe his anxiety.  mingi was so lost in thought that he bumped into someone. “i’m so sorry i-” mingi felt his mouth suddenly go dry, as if he’d swallowed sandpaper. “wonder boy?” you asked, leaning back against a tree, keeping your expression as nonchalant as possible. even in the darkness, you could still make out the blush that was forming on mingi’s face. in the soft glow of the moon, mingi looked as gorgeous as ever, and you ignored the slight ache in your heart at the sight of him. “h-hi.” he stammered.. “what brings you out here at this time of night?” “just passing through.” “been a while since we’ve seen each other, huh?” “been busy.” mingi mumbled, running a hand through his already messy hair. you frowned at the slight annoyance in his tone, but didn’t  think anything of it. “well, see you around.” you muttered, pushing off the tree with your elbow and walked away, not bothering to look back.

 “everything ok?” yunho asked, light green eyes filled with worry. you sighed, leaning your head on the tall male’s shoulder, shaking your head slightly. immediately, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, squeezing gently. “what happened?” “it’s stupid.” “just tell me.” “fine. on my way here, i bumped into mingi, quite literally, at that.” “and?” what happened that has you so sad?” “do we need to beat someone up?” an amused smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you laughed. “well, let me finish telling you and then i’ll let you and the others decide.” “what did he do?” “well, he seemed different.” “different how?” “i don’t know, it’s just the way he talked to me. he sounded kind of annoyed?” you felt yunho tense a little, the grip on your shoulders a little firmer, and you reached down and laced your fingers with his, squeezing gently. “i’m sure he was just having a bad day. don’t kill him, please. i can’t have you or the others being thrown into tarturus for beating someone up.” yunho huffed. “fine, but if he hurts you, i’ll get san to break his legs.” you laughed, snuggling deeper into the tall male’s side. “i’ll keep that in mind, then.” 

you tried not to laugh at the way seonghwa and jongho’s jaws clenched as you told them about what happened between you and mingi earlier that night. “i’ll kill him.” “no killing anyone, please. it’s not that big of a deal, he was probably having a bad day, everyone does.” “ok, but he didn’t have to take his annoyance out on you.” “yes, but-” “next time you see mingi, tell him that i will not hesitate to break his legs if he hurts you again.” “he won’t, i promise. like i said, he was probably having a bad day.” san huffed. “let him know.” “ok, ok, i will.” 

“enough about my love life.” “oh, so you’re admitting you have one?” yunho asked, light green eyes twinkling with mirth. “s-shut up, i do not.” wooyoung snorted, plopping down next to san, who rolled his eyes in amusement as the former laid his head on his shoulder. “you totally do, darling.” “not you too, hwa.” “sorry, but i have to agree with wooyoung.” you groaned, throwing yourself down onto the grass, laying your head in hongjoong’s lap, who just chuckled and ran a hand through your hair. “tough day, y/n?” “s-shut up, i’ve had enough bullying for one day.” 

“i messed up.” mingi mumbled, plopping down on the soft grass next to maddox, who only sighed in response. “what did you do this time?” “i might’ve lashed out.” “lovers’ quarrel?” “would you quit that? no, it wasn’t a lovers quarrel, i just- i don’t know, i guess i was so conflicted about my feelings that i took my anger out on her. what do i do?” “apologize.” “i-it’s not that easy, you know.” though mingi wasn’t looking in his direction, he could tell that his mentor was rolling in his eyes in exasperation. “it is, actually, you just walk up to her, say i’m sorry, and then you two live happily ever after for the rest of your days.”

 mingi frowned. “i’m serious.” “i am too. look, kid, if you’re not going to apologize, then i’ll do it for you.” “please don’t.” “i will if you would stop being a coward.” “i-i’m not a coward, she just makes me nervous, that’s all.” “i know it’s difficult, but if you don’t tell her how you feel soon, she might move on and find someone else.” “y-yeah, like who?” maddox shrugged. “i don’t know, maybe one of those muses she always hangs around.” “what? what muses?” “the muses? you seriously don’t know them?” “i-i do, i just have never seen them.” “well, she’s always around them, and they’re all pretty handsome, so i suggest you hurry up and profess your love or whatever before one of them steal her away.”

 “they could probably treat her better than me anyways.” he mumbled, which earned him an elbow to the ribs. “what was that for?” “would you quit being so pitiful? you never know until you try, and besides, i think she might feel the same.” “doubt it, but fine, i’ll try.” maddox grinned, reaching out and patting his shoulder gently. “that’s the spirit, kid.”

 the late afternoon sun bathed the forest in light as mingi leaned against a tree, ignoring how the rough bark dug into his back. his heart leaped in his chest as he heard soft footsteps approaching, and felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of you. you were a vision in a light pink toga that stood out against your skin, dark hair framing your face perfectly. “hi wonderboy.” you called out, and mingi felt his face flush at the mere sound of your voice. 

“h-hi.” “why did you want to see me?” “i wanted to apologize for how i acted the other day. i wasn’t feeling the greatest, and i took my annoyance out on you.” “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. although, my friends were quite worried and threatened to beat you up.” mingi winced. you laughed softly. “don’t worry. my friends are harmless even though they act like they aren’t sometimes.” “so, i’m forgiven, then?” “mingi, you were forgiven the moment you sent a scroll asking to talk to me.” you shrugged. “besides, i wasn’t offended, i just figured you were having a bad day, like you said.” mingi allowed himself a smile, and felt his pulse race when you returned it. 

“so, how’d it go with mingi?” wooyoung asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. seonghwa rolled his eyes and smacked the former lightly on the shoulder. “will you quit that?” the blond male only huffed in protest, but the curious glint never left his eyes. “what’s there to tell? he apologized, and that was it.” “seriously? no passionate kiss in the forest? no getting pressed up against a tree and making out? nothing? not even a kiss on the cheek? you two are so lame.” wooyoung sighed, dramatically falling into yeosang’s lap, who rolled his eyes in response. 

“jung wooyoung, if you don’t shut up right now, i will not hesitate to-” “yeah, yeah, i know, throw me into the depths of the underworld.” “exactly.” “it’s what you deserve, honestly.” yeosang mumbled, but made no move to shove the aforementioned muse off his lap. “yeosang! i thought we were friends.” “if you call barely tolerating you on a daily basis, then yes.” 

you laughed in amusement at their incessant bickering. “yeosang, stop being so harsh on wooyoung. he’s sensitive, you know.” “i am not!” the dance muse protested. hongjoong scoffed, not looking up from the elaborate flower crown he was making, rolling his eyes. “says the guy who wouldn’t stop sulking after san ignored him for a whole day because he accidentally spilled wine on his brand new toga.” “it was a whole week, and it hurt!” 

san sighed. “why am i friends with this idiot?” “because you love me.” “believe what you want, wooyoung.” jongho rolled his eyes. “hongjoong hyung!” said muse looked up from his now finished flower crown, carefully placing it on his head, hazel eyes widening in surprise. “yes, jongho?” “c-could you help me with this verse for a hymn? been stuck on it for days.”

 hongjoong’s face broke out into a wide smile, eyes turning into crescents, then flung himself at seonghwa, who stumbled a bit from the sudden attack, but recovered and wrapped his arms around the former, holding him tight. “what’s wrong, joong?” he asked, voice as gentle as ever, but the amused smile tugging at his lips was obvious. “j-jongho finally asked me to h-help him.” hongjoong wailed, burying his face into seonghwa’s chest, soft sobs wracking his body. seonghwa bit back a laugh as he patted hongjoong’s head gently. 

“are those tears of joy? or?” you laughed, reaching out and patting jongho’s shoulder gently. “definitely tears of joy. he’s been waiting for this moment for a millennia.” “finally, i’ve been spared!” yeosang cried out happily. jongho huffed. “i hate you.” yeosang only beamed. “love you too!” you rolled your eyes at their bickering. “have fun writing with hongjoong, he’s really been waiting for this day for ages.” jongho sighed. “i know. he wouldn’t stop whining to seonghwa hyung about it.” “yeah, i know, he’s also complained to me too.” “jongho! hurry up!” hongjoong called. 

you laughed at the embarrassment on jongho’s face as he mumbled his goodbyes and ran over to hongjoong, both of them disappearing behind an alcove of trees seconds later. “he must be really happy, huh?” “yeah, he is.” 

“how are things with mingi?” seonghwa inquired once everyone was distracted with the field of flowers a few feet away, marveling at the colorful petals. “honestly? i’m not sure. we’re not lovers, after all. i don’t even know if we’re friends. i guess we’re just acquaintances?” seonghwa rolled his eyes. “so, you’re telling me that after all the encounters you’ve had with each other that your relationship with him is still unknown?” you smiled sheepishly. “i-i guess?” the silver haired male sighed in exasperation. “you two are giving me a headache.” you laughed, leaning against seonghwa’s side, resting your head on his shoulder. the aforementioned muse immediately wrapped an arm around you. “but you love me.” “yeah, yeah.” you smiled, snuggling deeper into seonghwa’s warmth and allowing a comfortable silence to settle between the two of you. 

“mingi dare not break her heart, or i will personally throw him into the depths of the underworld.” wooyoung muttered, breaking off a petal of the rose he had in his hand, letting it gently float in the wind before settling peacefully in the grass around him. “stop destroying nature, would you?” san scolded, snatching the rose out of wooyoung’s hand, earning a squawk of protest from the latter. “while i agree with you, woo, i don’t think we should just charge at him like a minotaur gone truly mad.” “then, what do you think we should do, oh wise one?” 

“we should just talk to him, peacefully and without violence?” wooyoung scoffed. “that’s a terrible idea. do you want y/n’s heart to be broken?” “of course not, it’s just- he’s stronger than all of us, there’s no way any of us could take him in a real fight.” “yunho’s right, we’re all as thin as wheat and can’t lift anything remotely heavy.” “that’s not true! we’re not that weak!” yeosang rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. 

“why are we discussing murder?” a voice cut in, interrupting their conversation. yunho turned and saw seonghwa standing at the entrance of the garden, lean arms crossed over his chest, golden eyes twinkling with amusement. you were beside him, looking as equally amused as the former. “we’re not discussing murder, we’re just-” san slapped a hand over wooyoung’s mouth before he could continue, smiling nervously, ignoring how the latter squirmed, mumbling something incoherent.  “we were discussing just how much of a great person you are, hyung.” 

seonghwa bit back a laugh. “is that so?” “yes, of course! we would never think of murdering anyone! we’re too innocent and pure to commit such a wicked act!” unlike seonghwa, you laughed, the sound ringing in the air. “you are all so dramatic.” “ i honestly don’t know why i’m still hanging around you all.” “that’s because you have no other friends than us, yeosang.” wooyoung chirped, earning him a glare from the comedy muse. 

“please don’t start fights, especially with mingi. i don’t want to see any of you hurt.” wooyoung beamed, throwing himself onto seonghwa, hugging him tightly. “so you do love us, hyung!” the older rolled his eyes. “no, i’m just tired of you all being a pain in my ass all the time. so please save me the trouble and not try to kill anyone, ok?” san pouted. “you’re so cruel, hyung!” “believe what you want, san.” “anyways, do you know when hongjoong and jongho will be back? they need to help out with supper later.” “well, they’re probably going to be done, at least, hopefully, before the sun sets.” “ok, then i’ll just go gather the vegetables and fruit.” 

“hwa, i might need some help, that is, if you’re willing to.” seonghwa smiled, expression soft and gentle. “of course, i’d be happy to.” as soon as they were out of earshot, wooyoung leaned forward, making sure to keep his voice as low as possible. 

“is it just me, or is seonghwa hyung in love?” yeosang rolled his eyes, smacking the blond haired muse on the shoulder. “quit being delusional, seonghwa hyung’s always looked at her like that, we all do, you know. he cares about her just like he does the rest of us. besides, even if seonghwa hyung felt any sort of romantic way about y/n, she wouldn’t return his feelings and he’d get heartbroken.” “you never know! she could just be trying to use mingi as a distraction to get her mind off of him.” “you’re by far the dumbest person i know, woo.” “i know what i saw, yeosang!” “then prove it.” “what?” “if you can prove to me that seonghwa hyung really has feelings for y/n that are far from platonic, then i will not pick on you for a whole year.” wooyoung’s eyes brightened with determination. “get ready to bite back your words!” “can’t wait.” 

mingi softly hummed to himself as he walked through the forest, admiring how the sun shone through the leaves, bathing it in golden beams of light. his last meeting with you had gone well, better than he expected. “daydreaming about going on picnic dates with your girlfriend?” “no, and she’s not my girlfriend.” “sure, sure, keep lying to yourself.” “why did you even go with me? aren’t you supposed to be, i don’t know, doing important things?” 

maddox scoffed. “please, as if the officials need me for anything.” his mentor made subsequent trips to the heart of the city, where the council presided, looking over and approving laws. a comfortable silence settled around them as they continued on through the forest. 

suddenly, they heard laughter from a few feet away. and before mingi could say anything, maddox grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the direction of said laughter. “what are you doing?” “you’re not curious where the laughter is coming from?” “not really-” he was cut off a few seconds later when maddox suddenly stopped in his tracks. “what’s wrong?”

“kid, i’m sorry.” “about what?” he ignored maddox as he tried to prevent him from going past. mingi froze when he saw what maddox had been trying to prevent him from seeing. it was you, looking as beautiful as ever in a dark blue toga, holding a basket full of vegetables and fruit. but you were not alone. a tall male with silver hair, dressed in a white toga, an impossibly soft smile on his face, stood next to you. then, said male took the basket from you, pulling you into his side and wrapping a slender arm around your waist. 

mingi waited for you to push him away, which otherwise never occurred.  then, what came next felt as if his heart was going to be ripped out of his chest. you smiled and leaned into the male’s embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. he had had enough. mingi fought back tears as he ran away, ignoring maddox calling his name in the distance. 

“calm down!” maddox shouted, gripping mingi’s shoulders tightly. “why should i? after what i saw?” “you know, there’s such a thing as jumping to conclusions, which is exactly what you’re doing right now! and even if that guy was her lover, what does it matter to you? you’re not together anyway, right?” “i’m fully aware of that, but it still hurts just as much. i need to be alone.” mingi mumbled, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. as soon as the grip on his shoulder loosened, he ran off into the forest, vision blurring. 

dinner consisted of fruit and vegetables, along with a few quail eggs that seonghwa had managed to pick up at the market earlier that day. the early evening air was cool and crisp, and there was a light breeze that caused the leaves to sway gently. “were you able to write the hymn?” jongho nodded as he popped a strawberry into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “it wasn’t easy, but it is finished.” seonghwa smiled fondly, reaching out and ruffling the younger’s hair affectionately. “i’m glad.”  “did you spend time with y/n today?” wooyoung blurted, light blue eyes glimmering with anticipation, “yes, yes i did. we gathered the fruits and vegetables for supper. why?” “no reason hyung, just curious.” he mumbled, taking a sip of wine. seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t press further. yeosang pursed his lips tightly and looked away, trying to will himself to disappear. the former shrugged and merely got up and walked away to the center of the garden. 

once he was out of earshot, yeosang elbowed wooyoung in the side, causing the latter to cry out in protest. “what was that for?” “could you be any more obvious?” “what are you talking about? i was very subtle!” yeosang rolled his eyes. “you were not.” “do you really think seonghwa hyung doesn’t have any sort of romantic feelings towards y/n?” “i really do.” “i will prove you wrong, just you wait!” “i’ll be waiting for the day when you do.” 

you sat underneath a tree with seonghwa, curled up into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. the night sky was glittering with stars, bathing the garden in soft white light. “do you think my relationship with mingi will become something more?” “i can’t give you a sure answer, but i think if you allow a space for him in your heart, then maybe something will happen.” 

“when did you get so…” “cheesy? romantic? well, i am the muse of love poetry, in case you forgot.” “right, you write cheesy poems for a living.” “my poems are masterpieces, just so you know.” “i apologize, oh humble one. i did not mean to slander your poems, which a truly a gift to mankind.” “stop feeding my ego.” you laughed, snuggling deeper into seonghwa’s side. “ok, ok, i’ll stop.” 

“this is going to sound very cliché and cheesy-” “darling, please, i write romantic poems for a living. try me.” “i just- i’m grateful.” “for what?” “for not neglecting me. for taking care of me when i had no one else, and for giving me a home when my parents left me all alone, defenseless and starving.” you hadn’t realized you were crying until seonghwa pulled you into a warm and tight embrace, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “let it out, it’s okay.” “i’m sorry for breaking down like this, but-” “don’t apologize, darling. we are always here for you, and it’s perfectly okay to have an off day, we’ve all been there.” “i just-” “you don’t need to explain yourself, you never do. just promise me you won’t hide your pain from us? we hate to see you miserable.” 

you nodded, leaning further into seonghwa’s embrace, burying your face in the crook of his neck, the scent of roses hitting your nose. the smell was comforting, and you felt your eyelids droop, and you let sleep take over. seonghwa smiled fondly at the sleeping girl in his arms, looking peaceful and at ease. he brushed a stray strand of hair off your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear. the night was cool and crisp and tame, just how seonghwa preferred it to be. 

“hyung?” a quiet voice said behind him. he turned around, careful not to wake you, and saw yeosang standing behind him.“yeosang? what is it? is something wrong?” san hesitated as he saw the immediate concern on seonghwa’s face. “i- i just wanted to see if y/n’s alright.” “she’s fine, just tired. why?” “ah, no reason, just curious.” “san, are you ok? you’re acting a bit strange.” “i’m alright, just tired. wooyoung ‘s been a pain in my ass all day.” seonghwa chuckled at that. “perfectly understandable. wooyoung can be quite the handful sometimes.” 

yeosang gave the older an awkward wave, trying not to run away in embarrassment across the grass. as soon as he plopped down next to wooyoung, said male turned to him anticipation. “so, what did you see?” “she was asleep in seonghwa hyung’s arms; they were practically cuddling.” wooyoung clapped excitedly, and yeosang smacked him on the shoulder. “cut that out. just because i caught them cuddling doesn’t prove anything. she’s fallen asleep on all of us at some point.” “was she on his lap?” “what in tarturus? no, of course not.” “she was curled up in his arms, that’s all.” 

“are you seriously still convinced that seonghwa hyung doesn’t pine for her?” yeosang sighed. “look, wooyoung, you should really just give up on this, i mean, don’t you think trying to prove something that you know isn’t true a waste of time?” “it may be to you, but not to me! he loves her, i’m sure of it!” “just don’t go overboard, ok?” “i won’t, i swear on the river styx.” “i sense empty promises, but fine.” 

mingi sat on the edge of a ravine, feet dangling dangerously in the air, dried tears on his cheeks. he didn’t know when the crying had stopped, nor did he know how he ended up at the very edge of the forest. maddox was standing a few feet away, giving him space, which mingi was grateful for. his mind was swimming with thoughts and his heart ached. 

he felt pathetic, for even thinking that someone like him had a chance with you. you looked happy, happier than he had ever seen you. there was a part of him that was happy that you were being cherished, for it was what you truly deserved. i was foolish to think that she ever showed any interest in me as a lover, mingi thought glumly, fighting back another deluge of tears. he heard soft footsteps behind him and a few seconds later, a warm and gentle hand was on his shoulder. mingi sighed. “are you going to give me a lecture about how much of a fool i am?” “of course not, and you’re anything but that.” he let out a bitter, sad laugh. “how would you know that?” “because i’ve been your mentor for years, and while you were a bit clumsy at first, you persisted.” “what are you trying to say?” “i’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t give up! so what if she has a potential suitor? make her see what she’s missing!” “you want me to make her jealous?” “exactly! then she’ll realize just how much of a great hero and guy you are, and then she’ll practically beg for you to be her lover.” mingi shook his head. “there’s no way in tarturus i’m doing that.” “why not?!” “i don’t want to make anger her for my personal gain, it’s not right.” 

“ok, then, what do you think you should do?” “you saw her! she looks happy, and i don’t want to ruin that for her. i should try to move on.” maddox sighed. “do you even know who she was with?” “n-no? should i know him?” “do you remember when i mentioned the muses?” “vaguely.” 

his mentor rolled his eyes. “anyway, the guy you saw her with was one of the nine muses.” “w-what? how did you know?” “i thought it was pretty clear.” “how can you-” “centuries ago, they attended one of the council meetings. the muse you saw her with was the one who did most of the talking.” “i thought muses didn’t involve themselves with the council.” “they don’t, but maybe they had a reason to.” 

“that doesn’t mean anything, he could be her lover.” “believe what you want, kid. i’m not going to attempt to convince you otherwise. just don’t sulk about it too much.” with that, maddox walked away, leaving him with his thoughts and a heavy heart. 

“are you close with seonghwa hyung?” you laughed, carefully rolling up another scroll and placing it back on the massive shelf in front of you. “what do you mean, woo? i’m close with all of you.” “i know that, but-” “but?” “never mind.” wooyoung mumbled, plopping down on a nearby chair, lips forming a visible pout. you sighed in exasperation, walking over to said sulking male, ruffling his hair affectionately. “what’s wrong, woo?” “nothing, i’m just tired from yesterday evening, i suppose.” “oh, well, why did you come along with me, then? you didn’t have to, i know reading scrolls can be quite a bore.” “i didn’t want to leave you all alone. if something happened to you, seonghwa hyung would have my head.” you smiled, pulling the dance muse into a tight embrace. “wooyoung, that’s very sweet of you, but you know i can handle myself.” 

“i know, but if hades-” “he hasn’t come after me yet, and i doubt he will soon. even if he does, he won’t hurt me, at least, not enough to kill me.” “y/n! don’t say that! we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if something happened to you.” you felt your heart ache and hugged wooyoung tighter. “i’m sorry for saying that, i just-” “it’s ok, y/n. just promise me that you’ll let us protect you?” you nodded. “i will, i promise.” 

“what do you think of y/n?” yeosang asked, quite abruptly at that, and seonghwa felt his eyes widen in shock at the sudden bluntness. “i don’t quite understand the question, yeosang, i-” “just answer it.” “ok, ok, uhm, well, she’s….” the former gestured for seonghwa to continue. “she’s wonderful. she’s very caring, loving, and is very selfless. y/n is always there for us, always.” 

yeosang felt guilt rising in his stomach. he hated lying to seonghwa, especially after he now knew that wooyoung was completely wrong about how the older felt about y/n. at least, it was clear to him that she was nothing more than a dear friend, a sister, even. “are you alright?” yeosang snapped out of his thoughts, giving a worried seonghwa a half smile that he hoped was convincing enough. “i’m fine, just exhausted.” 

seonghwa’s golden eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t press further. “i have to go help y/n with something, i’ll see you in the evening?” yeosang managed a brief nod before the former walked off. 

he sighed, leaning back on the rough bark of a tree behind him. things were definitely going to get even more complicated, and yeosang wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest. 

“don’t you think wooyoung and yeosang are being a little... “ “strange?” “i suppose? wooyoung asked me if i’m close to you.” seonghwa raised an amused eyebrow, carefully rolling up a scroll. “close in what way?” suprisingly, you felt your cheeks flush scarlet. “i-” “as lovers?” “y-yes.” “ah, well, that is quite amusing.” “is it?” seonghwa nodded, golden eyes twinkling with mirth. “you are not angry?” “why would i be angry? any man would be lucky to have you.” “thank you, hwa.” his expression softened, if that was even possible. you smiled, carefully pulling another scroll from the shelf. “i’ve always loved coming here.” “i know. whenever we visited the town, you would beg us to take you to the library so you could read scrolls.” you blushed. “that must’ve been quite irritating.” 

seonghwa shook his head. “not at all, it was quite endearing.” “i’ve always loved stories, even as a child. though i don’t remember much about my parents, i know they always told me them to help me sleep. that is, before they abandoned me.” you didn’t even realize you were crying until strong arms were around you, pulling you into a comforting and tight embrace. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t know why i’m being so emotional all the time. you must think i’m being dramatic.” seonghwa scoffed. “you are not. i’m the one who should be asking for your forgiveness.” “hwa-” “hear me out, ok? i was the one who suggested we come here, and that was a terrible thing to do, because it surfaced tragic memories of your past. i’m so sorry, darling, i should’ve been more considerate-” 

“hwa, listen to me. it was not your fault. you didn’t know, and besides, i think it’s important for me to bring the painful memories to light instead of dwelling on them. i’ve been resenting my parents for centuries, and i think it’s time i start trying to forgive them.” seonghwa’s expression softened, as it always seemed to whenever he looked at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “if you need any assistance, i’m here for you, and so are the others.” “i know, thank you, hwa. i really don’t know what i would do without any of you in my life.” 

“that was extremely cliché, but i’ll let it slide because the feeling is mutual.” “you’re the absolute worst, you know that?” seonghwa laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “i know, but you love me.” “correction, i tolerate you, there’s a difference.” that earned you a light shove to the shoulder, and you couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, feeling lighter than you had been in centuries. 

 nearby, certain muses were deep in conversation. “wooyoung, i really think we should put an end to our bet, i mean, there’s no point anymore.” “why? did seonghwa hyung tell you something? or did you tell him about it?” yeosang sighed in frustration. “i didn’t tell him anything, i just really think it would be best to stop.” wooyoung huffed. “how can you be so sure?” “i just- look, i really don’t think seonghwa hyung loves y/n in a romantic way.” “suit yourself, yeosang, i’m going to prove it.” “do what you want.” 

“kid, are you even listening to me?” maddox’s worried voice snapped mingi out of the trance he’d been under, bringing him back to reality. the former sighed. “let’s take a break.” mingi nodded, carefully putting the bow and arrow he’d been holding off to the side, plopping down onto the soft grass beneath him, the blades tickling his bare legs. “are you alright?” maddox asked, his voice unusually soft, as if mingi were a fawn that would run away the instant it heard a loud noise. mingi didn’t reply, just shook his head softly and hugged his knees to his chest, somehow managing to look small and almost vulnerable, despite his bulk. 

maddox sighed, settling down beside him on the grass. “i know that sulking over unrequited love is trivial and a little pathetic of me-” “it’s not pathetic. you’re heartbroken, and it’s okay to sulk.” mingi managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.” “i’ve never felt this way about anyone, and i know that’s cliché, but it’s true. she’s the only girl who doesn’t fawn over me like everyone else, she doesn’t even know about my being a hero or slaying monsters!” “she knows you as mingi, not mingi the hero.” “yes, and that simple fact makes it hurt even more.”  

mingi didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “it’s okay, kid, let it out. i’m sorry for pushing you too hard to train. i didn’t realize you were still grieving.” “stop making it sound as if i’m mourning the loss of a loved one.” mingi scolded, but it was light-hearted. “i’ll be okay, i just need time.” “take all the time you need, i’ll be here for you if you ever need a shoulder to cry on.” “thank you.” “i’ll likely forget about her, so don’t get your hopes up.” maddox grimaced. he knew that mingi would most definitely not do such a thing, and that he would sulk about her for gods knew how long. i just hope he doesn’t completely fall apart, maddox thought, fighting back tears. 

seonghwa hummed softly to himself as he admired the deep purple hyacinths on either side of him, contrasting greatly with the forest green of the grass. the day was perfect, with a light, refreshing breeze tugging at his hair and toga, ruffling the leaves and branches of trees, the sky cloudless and blue, and the sun shining golden beams of light upon the earth. the air was just the right temperature, and seonghwa absolutely adored days like these. 

wooyoung, jongho, yeosang, and san had all gone to the town marketplace to find food for supper, and you and hongjoong were in the center of the garden, weaving flower crowns, which left seonghwa by himself for a bit. not that he minded, of course, seonghwa secretly enjoyed it when he got some time for himself, so he can be alone with his thoughts. 

while he loved his fellow muses dearly, it could get overwhelming to be around them at times. seonghwa never took the moments he got to himself for granted, for they were rare. seonghwa was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you settling down on the grass beside him, a hand woven crown of roses on your head. “hwa?” you asked, which made him jump in surprise. 

“when did you get here?” “about a few seconds ago, why?” “no reason, just, you scared me, is all.” you smiled in amusement. “you’re always so easily startled, huh?” seonghwa felt his face flush scarlet. “weren’t you with hongjoong?” “i was, but he insisted i keep you company.” “i hope i’m not bothering you, you seemed like you wanted to be alone for a while.” 

seonghwa nodded sheepishly. “well, one part of that is true.” “which one?” “the second, because you could never bother me.” that earned him a light shove to the shoulder. “when did you get so cheesy?” “i’m the muse of love poetry, cheesy is all i know how to write.” you laughed, and seonghwa ignored the way his heart sped up a bit at the sound. “what were you thinking about?” “you don’t have to tell me, of course, only if you’re willing.” “it’s okay, i wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, actually.” “just daydreaming then?” seonghwa smiled. “perhaps.” 

you returned his smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, and the sight made seonghwa’s heart clench painfully. he felt his pulse race as you moved closer to him and laid your head on his shoulder, all the while making sure not to crumple your flower crown. you’d done this many times before, but it never failed to make seonghwa’s heart race. he knew it was pathetic and silly to harbor feelings for someone who would never return them, but he couldn’t help it. you were kind, loving, the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, and whenever you looked at him, it felt like a punch to the gut. he loved the way your expression would brighten when visiting the town library, looking at various scrolls. most off all, he loved how selfless you were, and that you would do anything for the ones you loved.

while it was extremely painful to see you long for someone else, you were at least happy, and that was all that mattered to seonghwa. you deserved someone who would cherish you for the rest of your life, and who would never hurt you. seonghwa ignored the shiver that ran down his spine as you snuggled closer into his side. as if on impulse, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, your bare skin warm against his own, and held you tight. “are you alright?” “yes, just a bit exhausted. is it alright if i take a short nap?” “go ahead, i’ll wake you once it’s time for supper.” you shot him a grateful smile, and seconds later, you were fast asleep. seonghwa sighed heavily, resisting the urge to hide his face in his hands to hide the blush that was forming on his face. i need to get ahold of myself, he thought. 

wooyoung hid the smirk that was tugging at his lips as he caught sight of you cuddled up against seonghwa, resting your head on his shoulder. “ what are you doing?” a voice asked, which made wooyoung jump in shock. “san! did you have to sneak up on me like that?” said male rolled his eyes. “i didn’t sneak up on you, you were just too busy staring at seonghwa and y/n that you didn’t notice.” 

“are you stalking them or something?” wooyoung huffed in frustration and hit san gently on the shoulder. “i am doing nothing of the sort!” “then, what are you doing?” “i’m observing?” “seriously, woo?” what? just think of it as supervising.” san just sighed in frustration. “you really expect me to believe that? y/n can take care of herself, and seonghwa would rather get thrown into the depths of the underworld than even think of hurting her. what’s the real reason you’re watching them like a creep?” wooyoung sighed. “keep this a secret, okay?” san nodded. though his expression seemed uninterested, his violet eyes were glinting with curiosity. when wooyoung was done explaining, san burst out laughing. 

“you think i’m insane, don’t you?” “uh, yeah, i kind of do.” “look, woo, do you really believe that seonghwa hyung is in love with y/n? don’t you think that’s a little… i don’t know, impossible?” “anything is possible, san!” “yes, but not that.” “why? why does everyone think i’m crazy for this?” “wooyoung’s right, san.” they turned and saw hongjoong standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. “how long have you been standing there?” 

hongjoong shrugged. “long enough.” “wait, what? what do you mean i’m right?” “you’re right about seonghwa.” wooyoung let out a small whoop of triumph, while san looked at hongjoong in utter disbelief. “what in tartarus? how do you know that?” “because he told me.” “when?” wooyoung asked, practically beaming. “centuries ago.” “wait, so seonghwa hyung’s liked her for that long?!” hongjoong grimaced. “ah, it’s actually the opposite of that.” “he loves her?!” san blurted, and wooyoung slapped a hand over his mouth. “don’t be so loud! seonghwa hyung’s nearby, he might hear you!” he hissed. 

“when did you notice?” wooyoung asked, slowly taking his hand off san’s mouth, who glared at him in return. “i thought it was pretty obvious, and honestly, i’m quite surprised no one picked up on it sooner.” “so, when did he tell you?” “i don’t remember exactly, but i’m pretty sure it was when y/n was in the garden with you guys and seonghwa and i went somewhere to talk in secret. he was extremely anxious.” 

(six centuries ago)

 hongjoong let out a cry of protest as seonghwa led him into a more secluded part of the garden, anxiety rolling off the latter in waves. the late afternoon sun cast golden beams of light on the soft patches of green grass. the air was crisp and cool, and the weather had never been more perfect. “what’s wrong?” seonghwa hesitated, rocking back and forth on his heels. “i-i love someone.” hongjoong’s eyes widened. “what?” “i know it’s sudden of me to say something so bold, but i-i know that i love her.” “who is she? do we know her?” seonghwa chuckled, golden eyes shining with an emotion that hongjoong had never seen him express before. “yes, you know her, very well, in fact.” hongjoong furrowed his brows in confusion, thinking about which female in the entirety of athens seonghwa had his heart set on, and suddenly, it clicked. the gentle and soft gazes he’d send your way, the way he’d look at you as if you were the only star in the sky, and the way he handed you a basket of flowers or even a piece of fruit were all telltale signs that seonghwa was irrevocably smitten, and yet hongjoong hadn’t realized it until now. “i- when did you realize that you loved her?” seonghwa rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, color staining his cheeks. “do you remember that city official that started to insult y/n the day we went to the market?” hongjoong grimaced at the memory. “of course, how could i forget? i was  tempted to throw him into the depths of tarturus.” “she defended herself before we could, despite having tears in her eyes. she was so strong, and i admired her for that. i knew that she was not a damsel in distress, and that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but i’ve always felt i need to protect her, to shield her from harm. isn’t that so selfish of me?” seonghwa asked, laughing bitterly. “it’s not selfish, it just shows how much you love her.” “i suppose. hongjoong, promise me that this will stay between us?” “of course.” hongjoong said, swallowing against the bile in his throat. the smile that seonghwa sent his way afterwards, bright and hopeful, made his stomach churn with guilt. 

“that day was the worst, i was going to kill him if someone didn’t stop me.” san hissed, glaring at hongjoong, who rolled his eyes. “i’m sorry i foiled your plans of vengeance, but seonghwa would’ve killed me if anything happened to any of you.” “seonghwa hyung really is in love with y/n.” wooyoung mumbled, looking dazed, as if he had been in a trance. “yes, he is. now, you two have to promise me that this stays between us. seonghwa cannot know that i told you.” 

san pursed his lips tightly. “i hate keeping secrets from him.” “i know, but if finds out that i told you this, he will never forgive me, and i can’t live with myself knowing that i hurt seonghwa.” san looked as if he’d rather jump into the river of souls than agree to it, but just sighed and gave hongjoong a small nod. “fine, but don’t make me regret this.” 

hongjoong gave the younger a grateful smile.” thank you, san.” “i’ll also keep this from seonghwa hyung, but it’s not going to be easy.” “i know, just try your hardest not to tell him.” wooyoung also looked as if he were going to object, but managed a miniscule nod. “i just hope that no one gets hurt in the end.” hongjoong felt dread pool in his stomach at the thought of seonghwa looking at him with absolute hatred and sadness in his eyes, and forced what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face. “time will tell.” 

after the confrontation with san and wooyoung, hongjoong headed to another secluded part of the garden, feeling dazed. he settled onto a soft patch of grass, stretching his legs and basking in the late afternoon sun. though the weather usually lifted hongjoong’s spirits, today, it did nothing to distract him from the immense guilt he felt. he knew it wasn’t his right to tell seonghwa’s secret, but he had just suddenly gotten the urge to, after overhearing wooyoung and san’s conversation. hongjoong sighed, reaching up and rubbing at his temples. he would be doomed if seonghwa ever came to know that his secret had been disclosed, especially since he’d promised all those centuries ago not to tell anyone. 

“joong?” a soft voice said, and hongjoong looked up to see you standing over him, an amused smile on your face. “y/n?” “taking a nap?” you asked, settling down beside him, your sky blue robes bright against the green grass. hongjoong shook his head. “no, just thinking.” “about what? you don’t have to tell me, of course, i’m just curious.” “well, honestly, it wasn’t anything important.” you didn’t look too convinced, but didn’t press further, much to hongjoong’s relief. “can i talk to you about something?” “of course, anything.” hongjoong said, immediately sitting up and moving closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “what’s troubling you?” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “it’s seonghwa.” “what about him? is he being an asshole?” you laughed softly. “no, of course not. hwa’s one of the sweetest, gentlest, most patient, loving, and selfless people i know. he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.” “

then, what’s wrong?” “i- is he in pain?” “what do you mean?” “is he pining for a lost love?” hongjoong felt his stomach coil with nerves. “why do you ask?” “i’ve noticed the way he looks at me, almost as if i remind him of someone who hurt him.” no, it’s because seonghwa’s in love with you, but he’s not saying anything because he knows you will not return his feelings, hongjoong thought sadly. “is he hurting because of me? did i do something?” you sounded so sad, so lost, and hongjoong’s heart ached. “no, of course not. seonghwa’s always been one to wander off into his own thoughts and keep his feelings to himself. he doesn’t want us worrying about him. he’s probably just daydreaming or exhausted.” “i suppose.” you murmured, snuggling deeper into hongjoong’s side. hongjoong forced what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face and held you tighter. 

mingi loosed a breath as he let an arrow fly, allowing a small smile when it struck the center of the target. the air was warm but not too humid, and he loved when the sun would shine through the trees, bathing the forest in golden light. it was late afternoon, and he had finally gotten out of bed after a while to train. maddox had had business in town, so that left him alone for the day. 

he sighed and propped his bow against a tree, practically collapsing onto the soft grass. it’d been a long few days, of which were mainly spent crying until his throat and eyes hurt, or until maddox threatened to throw him into the river if he wouldn’t stop sulking. ever since that day, mingi had been trying his best to heal from the heartbreak he experienced. it was a bit pathetic that he was so devastated over a girl that he barely knew, but in some ways, he felt drawn to you. he felt as if there was something that intrigued him about you, but couldn’t quite name the cause. he supposed that as long as you were happy and that you were being treated well, there was nothing he could do. after all, he was a hero, destined to save athens or whatever fairy-tale shit maddox ranted about constantly, and if you were together, you would be in constant danger. mingi knew he couldn’t live with himself if anyone he loved got hurt or killed, and the image of you being stabbed or becoming lifeless in his arms sent a shudder through his body. mingi closed his eyes and let the tears fall, wondering if he would ever get his so-called “happy ending.” 

yunho laid next to wooyoung on the worn blanket seonghwa had found lying around the cottage, and looked up at the night sky, stars glittering like precious jewels. the air was crisp and cool, and he allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. yunho turned his head slightly to see you and san sitting on a patch of soft grass, your head resting on his shoulder. “penny for your thoughts?” wooyoung said, snapping yunho back to reality. he felt his face flush scarlet at the knowing smirk on wooyoung’s face, and swatted at him with his hand, causing the younger to laugh. “i do not feel that way about y/n, if that’s what you’re thinking.” wooyoung rolled his eyes. “i know you don’t, i was just teasing you.” a comfortable silence settled between them, and yunho sighed, turning his attention back to the stars, mind wandering once again. dinner had been normal, with the occasional light chatter and wooyoung and san bickering over trivial matters, but the aftermath had been quite strange. san had given wooyoung a look that clearly said ”don’t you dare speak another word or i will throw you into the river” , and the latter had whined in protest, but didn’t say anything else after. yunho had looked at them with utter confusion, wondering what in zeus’ name they’d been arguing about, but didn’t bother to ask. he just hoped that whatever secret they were keeping wouldn’t cause any conflict. 

you sighed, snuggling deeper into san’s side for warmth, and said male wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “tired?” he asked. you nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “did seonghwa nag you too much today?” he asked, voice light and teasing. you rolled your eyes playfully. “no, he didn’t. today was just a long one, that’s all.” san hummed in agreement, squeezing your shoulder gently, as if in comfort. you shifted so that you were now lying on his lap, and he chuckled softly, playing with the loose strands of your hair. “are you really going to use my lap as a pillow?” “yes, is there a problem?” san shook his head. “of course not, you know i was just teasing.” “san?” “hmm?” “thank you.” “for what, love?” “no reason, i’m just glad you’re in my life.” “when did you get so cheesy? you’ve really been spending way too much time with seonghwa hyung.” you flelt your face flush scarlet. “s-shut up, i’m trying to be sentimental and you’re ruining the moment.” san laughed, patting your head gently. “ok, ok, fine.” you soon fell asleep to san humming softly. 

san smiled as you slept, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of your hair, humming a song he’d heard jongho sing once, and leaned back against the rough bark of the eucalyptus tree that took up one side of the garden, letting his mind wander. dinner had been interesting, and he grimaced as he remembered how wooyoung had nearly let seonghwa’s secret come to light. wooyoung needs to be more cautious, otherwise, seonghwa hyung might never forgive hongjoong hyung for telling us his secret. 

it was also where he noticed firsthand that seonghwa was irrevocably and utterly in love with y/n, despite knowing that his feelings would never be returned. san didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before. it was evident in the way seonghwa would look at you, as if you were the only star in the sky, and even a small gesture as handing you a piece of bread from across the table. his fingers always seemed to brush against yours in such an intimate way that san felt himself blush and look away. 

san winced as he recalled the conversation with hongjoong and wooyoung earlier that evening, and his heart ached for seonghwa, whose love was unrequited, and for hongjoong, who had succumbed to the pressure of keeping such a secret that he told him and wooyoung. he felt as if they didn’t deserve to know, for the secret felt so personal to seonghwa, and san knew that he would be devastated if he knew that hongjoong had told them. holding back tears, san closed his eyes and let sleep take over. 

mingi woke to maddox gently shaking him, whispering fervently. he sat up immediately, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “what is it? did something happen?” even in the darkness of the cottage, he could make out the pale and ashen color of maddox’s face, and his stomach coiled with fear. his mentor gulped nervously before replying, his voice barely audible. “hades.” “what?” mingi felt blood rushing to his ears, and he felt himself get out of bed, hastily throwing the thin blankets off of him, reaching for his sword, which had been thrown on a pile of old clothes earlier that night. mingi could feel the nervous tension in the air as he loosed a breath and headed out into the cool night, feeling a shiver course through him. maddox was trailing slowly behind him, footsteps quiet and hesitant. 

mingi knew it was extremely foolish to confront hades not properly armed, but at least maddox was with him. now, his mentor wasn’t the strongest or the best fighter, but he could at least try and figure out a way for mingi to escape unscathed, or at least mingi hoped he could. 

the air got thicker with tension as mingi ventured deeper into the forest, ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind, screaming at him to run away. mingi knew that hades was close by, as the scent of death and smoke filled his nostrils as he neared a more secluded part of the forest, which, ironically, happened to be near a field of blooming hyacinths. the sight that beheld him made his heart drop down into his stomach and his blood run cold. 

you were laying at hades’ feet, pale blue robes streaked with dirt, curled into yourself, as if bracing for an attack that would hopefully never come. mingi ducked behind a tree, hoping it would somehow obscure him from view. “you’re pathetic.” hades hissed, dark eyes flashing with pure disgust. you groaned, neck straining to look up at the god of the dead, expression full of fury and pure hatred. “i thought i made it clear that my relations with you were over.” you seethed, wiping blood from the corner of your mouth. hades laughed, cold and heartless. “you very aware of my conditions when you signed your soul over to me, and one of them was that you will never be free until you fufill my end of our deal. you seemed so willing all those centuries ago, i wonder what changed? is it because you fell in love?” hades sneered, tone dripping with mock cheerfulness. 

you said nothing, clenching your jaw in anger and curling your hand into a fist. hades laughed, the sound hollow and void of emotion. “how touching, you fell in love with the very person you were supposed to lead to his own demise. i assume you want me to spare him?”

you glared at the god of the dead, refusing to show any signs of fear, and mingi’s heart ached at the sight. “no, i very well know that you will kill him anyway, for seeing heroes perish brings you great pleasure.” hades clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “i’m appalled that such a thought would ever cross your mind.” “you’ll spare him, then? if i request it?” hades scoffed. “you’d be foolish to think that i would ever take a request from such a weak and pathetic woman such as yourself.” 

mingi felt a hand grip his shoulder tightly, and didn’t try to resist. “kid, if you go out ther now, you’ll die. hades may be a prick, but he’s powerful, and can most likely turn you into ashes before you can even take a single step.” maddox murmured, voice barely audible, but mingi nodded, a sign that he’d heeded his warning, and the grip on his shoulder loosened. 

seonghwa felt his heart shatter at the sight of you crumpled on the ground, pale blue robes dirty and blood-stained, helpless and injured. it took every ounce of self-control for him not to run over to you and wrap you into his arms and hold you. he knew that you would never forgive yourself if something happened to him or the others, and that you would continue to blame yourself for their deaths, no matter what. seonghwa bit back tears as he watched hades sneer and curse at you, hands curling into his white robes, the soft fabric bunching in his grip. 

the others were fast asleep at the cottage, and that fact alone made seonghwa’s heart settle, just a bit. seonghwa was glad that they weren’t witnessing the horrific scene before him, for he knew that the sight would be too much to bear. 

out of the corner of his eye, he noticed mingi, armed with nothing but a sword, clutching it in his hand tightly, and a shorter man with shoulder length hair was with him, body stiff with tension. it was maddox, who he had seen occasionally at council meetings, quiet but not afraid to speak his mind when needed. 

seonghwa felt his blood run cold when mingi finally stepped out of the shadows, with maddox trying and failing to prevent him from being reckless, and held his sword out in front of him, the silver blade glinting in the dark. 

hades’ dark eyes shifted towards the newcomer, and the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was enough to make seonghwa shudder with fear. “look who decided to join us. if it isn’t the hero himself.” “let her go.” mingi hissed, body tight with tension. hades chuckled darkly. “and why would i do that? what could a mere human like you offer me, a god?” “it’s me you want dead, isn’t it?” seonghwa’s heart dropped into his stomach at the naked fear on your face, and clutched the fabric of his robe tighter. don’t be so reckless, seonghwa wanted to scream, but he knew that if he were in mingi’s position, he would’ve done the same, so he forced himself to stay quiet. “i would take pleasure in seeing your untimely demise, such is true, but what would you give me in return?”

seonghwa racked his brain for a list of possible things mingi could offer to the god, and cursed under his breath when he realized that the only thing the latter could give hades was his soul. “i’ll trade you my soul, but only if you agree to break the contract you have with her.” 

hades’ dark eyes flashed dangerously. “you do know what selling your soul to me entails?” mingi nodded. in doing so, i enter a state of servitude, until you decide to give me freedom.” 

your eyes widened in horror, and seonghwa watched, heart aching, as you struggled to your feet, unable to stop the tears from streaming down your face. “mingi, do not  sacrifice your freedom or your soul for me. i don’t deserve to be saved.” “don’t say such things! you’re brave and selfless and-” “i am not! i’ve been working with hades all this time, trying to find out your weakness so that he may kill you! i don’t deserve to be saved or sought after by someone who is righteous and honest and brave. i-” you broke off at the sight of the confused, angry, and devastated expression on mingi’s face. nearby, hades chuckled darkly. 

“i’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, it seems you two have many things to discuss.” hades drawled, tone dripping with mock sympathy. with a flick of his hand and a long, tired sigh, the god of the dead disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. mingi turned his head away, closing his eyes, as if the sight of you was too much for him to bear. 

“why?” mingi asked in a soft voice, confused and hurt. “i did not want you to find out this way, especially with hades in our presence. i never meant to hurt you, i-” 

 “you lied to me?” “yes, but i-” “but you what? thought it would be amusing to lead me on? to rip my heart out?” you visibly flinched at the uncharacteristic coldness in mingi’s voice, and seonghwa gulped nervously. 

“please, i can explain-” mingi shook his head, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “i never want to see you again, and don’t you ever think for one second that i’m going to come to rescue you from whatever danger you might face. you disgust me.” he snapped, voice as cold and hard as steel. you reached out helplessly as mingi turned on his heels and walked away, not bothering to look back, and that’s when seonghwa couldn’t bear to watch any longer. 

seonghwa ran out from his hiding place and pulled you into his arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back and whispering soothing words in your ear. “h-hwa. h-he hates me.” you sobbed, curling your fingers in the fabric of his robes. seonghwa could only hold you tight as you cried into his chest, feeling his heart ache even more. 

you returned to the cottage with seonghwa carrying you in his arms, your heart heavy and face tear-stained. your robes were filthy and torn, but seonghwa didn’t seem to mind as he had lifted you into his arms almost immediately, insisting on carrying you home. you felt tears prick your eyes at the sight of hongjoong, san, jongho, wooyoung, yeosang, and yunho standing nervously at the front of the cottage. 

san practically tripped over his own feet trying to get to you, stroking your hair back softly as his violet eyes scanned your body, looking for any injuries. “we were all so worried when we woke and realized you and seonghwa hyung were gone. we thought you two had been taken, or killed, or-” “san, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry for worrying everyone. i seem to always cause trouble whenever i’m with you, and i always feel as if i’m a burden.”

“you could never be a burden to us, darling, we just hate seeing you get hurt.” yeosang strode right up to seonghwa, caramel eyes bright with anger. “you let her be injured? you watched as she got hurt and verbally harassed by hades? what kind of friend are you?” he asked, a harsh laugh escaping his mouth. before seonghwa could respond, san stepped forward, violet eyes bright with warning, gripping the comedy muse’s shoulder tightly. “that’s enough, yeosang.”

yeosang pursed his lips tightly, shook san’s hand off him, and stormed into the cottage. “i-i’m so sorry y/n, i should’ve done something-” you shook your head, reaching up and cupping seonghwa’s chin gently so he’d look at you. “none of this is your fault, hwa, and give yeosang time to clear his head, i’m sure he’s just angry because i’m hurt and he needs someone to blame.” “i just hope you two don’t resent me.” you scoffed, shifting so that you were a little more comfortable in seonghwa’s arms. “we will not.” 

seonghwa smiled gently down at you as he carried you into the cottage, and you let yourself fall into a deep sleep, the ache in your heart subsiding, just a bit. 

mingi buried his face into his pillow, soft sobs wracking his body. maddox sat slumped in a chair nearby, his expression grim. “i’m sorry your first love had to end so tragically, kid.” mingi didn’t reply, only cried harder, feeling as if his heart was going to spill out of his chest. 

-end-

a/n: i hope you all enjoyed this! i know this was super lengthy and probably sucked, but there will be a part three! i’m not sure of the title yet, but i already have a few ideas in mind :) anyways i love you all and thank you for always supporting me and my mediocre fics lmao 

tagging: @maatz, @hwacinth-main, @twancingyunhoe​ , @victonite​, @hongism​+anyone else who wants to read this 💛

#mine #fic series

[edupunkn00b]

And I Feel Fine - Chapter 1: Feeling Pretty Psyched

[AO3] - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

Teen Rating, Human AU

Part of the Logan, Janus, Roman, Remus series / Happily Ever After Universe

Roman stood center stage, heart pounding, looking out over the crowd at The Triple Door. He knew that Janus was somewhere out in the crowd, but the lights turned everyone faceless. He looked in the general direction of their table and winked as the opening bars began to play. The crowd started cheering as soon as they recognized the song. Roman knew that likely half of the whistles and applause were thanks to the New Year's Eve champagne that had been flowing since well before midnight in the club. Half was good enough for him.

He took a deep breath, choking up on the microphone in his hand, blessing the musical director who shifted the key of the song down into his range. I owe someone some flowers, or at least a glass of wine.

Janus watched Roman on stage, two tables from center house. He leaned forward, putting down his drink, sparing a quick glance at the raucous table to his left. Janus rolled his eyes. A bachelorette party. Sorry to disappoint you lovely ladies ... He dismissed them and returned his focus to Roman.

Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn, and I dream of what I need

In what felt like an instant, the song was done and Janus leapt to his feet, cheering and whistling. He was not alone, as half the room stood to applaud, but for a tiny moment, Roman could pick Janus out of the crowd and he blushed. One more bow, and Roman left the stage. As the emcee approached the mic stand, Janus made his way to the door leading backstage. "Thank you, thank you, ladies and gents! Give it up one more time for Roman - Roman Prince!" The emcee looked carefully at the signup list in his hands as the crowd cheered again. "And Roman was our last act for tonight's New Year's open mic. Thank you and - " he held out the mic as the crowd responded "See you next year!"

Roman suddenly burst through the door, face flushed and mouth spread in a euphoric smile. He spotted Janus and ran at him, excited voice rising about the din of the crowd, "Oh my God, I did it! I really did it!" Janus pulled Roman into his arms and spun him around the crowded space.

"I'm so proud of you, my dear. Did you hear the crowd? This is a major leap from SC Theatre - ," Janus raised a hand to halt Roman's protest, "Yes, yes, my dear, I know there are no bit parts, only bit actors, but The Triple Door is a big fucking deal!" Roman pulled him in for a kiss.

He pulled back, laughing, "Stop while you're ahead, Sweetheart." Janus sputtered before Roman leaned in to kiss him again.

"Roman Prince! I cannot believe it's you!," Roman turned at the now-unamplified voice of the emcee. Without the mic, his voice was oddly familiar. Roman's eyes grew wide when he saw the man's face without the blinding stage lights.

"Nate! Oh my God, Nate!," The two old friends rushed at each other, hugging and interrupting each other. Finally Roman pulled Janus closer, "You remember Janus, don't you?"

"Of course!" Nate clapped a hand on Janus' shoulder, shaking his head and smiling. "It's great to see you! I can't believe you two are still together." Nate squinted for a moment and then admitted, "Ok, yeah, actually I do," More than a few times, Nate had needed to pull Roman back into rehearsal after 'losing track of time' at the stage entrance, wrapped in Janus' arms. Janus' face flushed, revealing that he was likely having a similar recollection.

"Do you emcee here?," Roman asked, arm wrapped around Janus' waist, painting an innocent expression on his face. From the pink tinge to his cheeks, Roman showed Janus that he remembered, too.

"I'm the manager now. Our regular emcee took the night off." Nate tilted his head, casting a considering look at Roman. "What are you up to right now?"

Despite his usual protestations to Janus about the quality of his roles in children's theatre, Roman had to hide that he was less than proud to reply, "I'm in the company at Seattle Children's Theatre."

Nate grinned broadly. "Are you free Thursday nights? We're starting a new series and could use a headliner."

"Are you kidding me!?" Roman caught Janus' eye, checking to be sure he wasn't just imagining the offer. Janus was smiling just as brightly. Roman pulled them both in to a hug.

"Is that a yes, Roman?," Nate laughed.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm so in!"

Image by Chris Lawton, via Wikimedia Commons, used under Creative Commons CC0 1.0

#and i feel fine #roman prince #janus pater #roceit #holding out for a hero #it's the end of the world as we know it and i feel fine #save the date 12/21/12

[mariahthelioness29]

Remember the time

Pairing: SamBucky! X Black! reader 

WC: 7.3K (EYE... idk why they keep getting longer)

A look into y/n’s relationship with Sam and Bucky years after Send the Addy.

Send the Addy was part of @blackmissfrizzle  and her Frizzle’s 2K Follower Celebration & Bad Bitch Challenge. I had the song Send the Addy by Flo Milli.

Warning: Angst, fight, violence, minor character deaths, SMUT, light D/s dynamics, threesome, sir and daddy naming, shower sex, rough sex, rimming, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), fingering, cum eating.

@sambuckyslayallday @blackmissfrizzle @xbuchananbarnes @avintagekiss24 @helahades @sapphirescrolls @rasberrylemon @saltball @honestlyfrance @black-mcu-imagines @blacklavenderjade @saintsebastian-stan @deansblackbeauty @marvelmaree @honeychicanawrites  @siancore

“y/n,what's your status”, Bucky asks in his coms.

You heard Bucky’s call but you decided to ignore it. 

“Hang on”, you gruffed him through the coms. 

You have to save the Ihumann all in chains by the Kree. 

You are appalled that slavery is a reality, still. 

Only this time is among aliens. 

You are gathering information on the Kree and Skrull cold war for Sam and Danvers. 

You jumped down from a level to the other and appeared in front of the Kree soldiers. 

“ Hey, sailors”, You salute the Kree soldiers before frying them with energy coming out of you.  They drop calcined. 

The poor Ihumann are shaking like leaves. One of them grabbed a kid for dear life. 

You assume the kid is theirs. 

“ I am here to help”, you signed to them in their language. 

They nod like bobble heads, still terrified.

“Here”, you signed 

 You hand them some guns and retractable Wakandan spears. 

“ Walk behind me and when I say attack, you do as I say”. You signed to them. 

“You walked fast with them and you signaled them to hide. 

Some hide behind columns with you and the others blend in with the wall.

Everything was going great, according to plan. 

Until other Kree Soldiers noticed you and the Ihumann. 

You make them rush to the spacejet. 

You press a button to open the spacejet from behind  

 You gave them all the space suits buttons you had including your own and only a young Ihumann stayed with you. 

“ I’ll fight with you”, he signals. 

Hissing and groans in pains, screams in agony , the Ihumman slashed through the Kree Soldiers. 

You electro shock them until one the Kree soldier you did not see, impaled the Ihumman from his back. 

You hear a strangled scream, that is deafening. 

You all wince and turn around. You see blue blood pouring, hands over their mouth, eyes wide in shock and a spear through him. They drop to their knees and they look at you. 

“NOOOOOOOOOO !!!!!”, you screamed.

Being distraught, the Kree soldiers took advantage and put a stabilizer on you.

A silent scream escapes your throat, the stabilizer bites in your skin, rendering you powerless.

The Kree soldiers put you in chains and make you walk with them. 

You are going to another section of the massive compound floating along the sky. 

"Huh? , a Terran, Quu, told me they are exquisite, I will find out  with this one". He tugs at your chain.

" Save a spot for me, I am trying to find out too". The other soldier says.

You feel a presence. 

You see a black shadow. 

You hear shots and you flinch. You hear the men trapping you, dropped like a potato sack. 

You are relieved to see Bucky but suddenly you are not. 

You realize why the man is feared and why the name Winter Soldier exists. 

If looks can kill, you would’ve been 10 feet underground. 

“ Buck, I can explain”. You say all breathy. He walks to you. He gets you out the chains. He barely acknowledges you, hands you a glass like chip, takes you by the forearm, puts the space suit button on you and taps on it. You are surrounded by the space suit. 

Through nooks and crannies, you reach the underground, shooting some soldiers down the way. You manage to escape, through a narrow exit near the underground motors of the compound.

You float to the spaceship and enter it. You click on the button and the space suits disappear.

He makes you sit and he takes the aid kit, injecting a little local anesthetic. 

He cuts around the stabilizer and then takes it out with some tweezers. It is hard work cause the stabilizer has some hooks in it.

He takes the bloody stabilizer out of your neck, dropping, stomping it on the floor. He puts some nanobites to close the injury and some alcohol.

You hiss at the feeling of the alcohol and the nanobites.

Bucky’s jaw is square with anger. 

He looks at you with the corner of his eyes. 

He sees the Ihummann in the spacejet. 

“ Translate for me, you are safe and welcome” ,he orders you in a robotic tone. 

You sign what he says. They smile at you and they all say thank you to you. 

Relieve is all over their faces. Some of them sigh, others with tears of happiness. 

“ They say thank you”, you whisper to him. 

He smiles at them but you know it is a smile that does not reach his eyes.

He bows to them with his fist on his chest. 

A sign of “your welcome”, a reverence you taught him.

They all do the same to him back. 

He goes to the cockpit of the spaceship and you beside him. 

“ Bucky”, you try to talk to him. 

“ Not now, y/n”, he gruffs. 

You know, you are for one hell of a talk with him and Sam, when you’re back on Earth. 

It took you three weeks to get back on Earth. 

It was the route where Kree least looked for you. 

Sam and Danvers are aware of what you did, but they cannot help with resources for now. 

You stop in several planets, from negotiating some of your arsenal, curing aliens, selling some Earth trinkets, cage fighting, even some stripping. you and Bucky did on Traia to have food, oxygen, water, special water for the Ihumman and a place to rest. You were a success on Traia, they never saw Terrans before. So much, you and Bucky needed to fight the bar patron to let you out.

Bucky only said good night and talked to you the necessary. 

You slept with your backs against each other. 

He is still mad at you. 

You arrived at the headquarters. 

Bucky's hair was to his ears. His beard was full. 

Your hair looks tired and ran through. You all stink. 

The Ihumann stayed in the jet. They need to stay since Earth’s oxygen is nauseating to them, but you promised them you will find a way they can have a shower too since Earth's water makes them ill. They have to talk in signs all the time cause their voice is too high for human ears. 

Once you shower, you put on some comfortable clothes. 

You go to your office. You dread in your spirit, the debriefing and the report you have to do. 

“ ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKIN’ MIND!!!!”,Sam screeched, entering your office with Bucky. 

“BOY, DON’T YOU YELL AT ME, I’M NOT FIVE”, you yell back at him. 

“This the welcome I get, you two ganging up on me”, you huff. 

“ I am not the one, who went head on to Kree soldiers, put Ihumann in the jet, got captured by the Kree, Bucky reminds you. 

“We had to do everything to stay afloat for three weeks alone in space or did you forget Traia”. Bucky reminds you again.

“You jeopardize this whole mission, are you aware of that”, Bucky seethes. 

“ Oh!, you act surprised with your hand on your chest. “Ladies and Gents, Non-binary peeps, he speaks”, extending your arms to the side.

“Yes, I did and I’ll do it again, I will not be impartial, waiting for instructions  while beings are put in chains, used as live-experiments, to appease some bullshit power”. You demanded. 

“ You sidetracked this mission and brought Ihumann to earth, what are we going to do with them,the air makes them nauseous, they do not even drink the same water as us, it makes them ill!,Sam speaks with disbelief, pointing to the spacejet.

“ I will find a solution, I am the doctor here, don’t you worry ‘bout it”, You answer him. 

Sam huffs in disbelief with his hand on his hip. Bucky just sits on the chair, rubbing his temples. 

You throw the chips on the table . The one that Bucky gave you ,two chips extras. They were not even aware of the other two. 

Their eyes are wide. They look at the two extra chips and then each other.

“Here is your mission”. You say to them.

“I AM NOT STUPID, YOU TWO ALWAYS CUT MY WINGS IN MISSIONS” your voice hoarse with anger. 

They both look at each other. 

“ That’s not true!”, Sam rushes out. 

“ Oh no ,it isn’t?, I've always had to ask Hill and Danvers, because you never want me to do outside work.”

“ All the schedules for the mission, I am the one that receives a little thing and some bullshit paperwork”. 

“ I do it, 'cause I want you safe”, Bucky says trying to calm down. 

" I don't want another kidnapping and you receiving the full force of a dying star on you”, Sam say pointing at you and getting closer to you.

"I know what I got myself into, when I decided that this is  what I'm going to do for a living and I survived, I am here".

“We need to help the Ihumann, there are the ones suffering the most”, you plead to Sam. 

“ We are trying to find a solution for that  cold war, this can affect earth, our galaxy and you bringing Ihumann will jeopardize that. This will make us look biased! .” Sam defends.

“ Oh, I read the debriefing documents, the idea is that the Kree colonize Koraa and let them have their way and pretend we do not see it”, You answer with venom. 

“ That looks like the most wise decision, for now, y/n, let them believe they have a little power and when they least expect, we come in”, Bucky defends. 

“ Do you both realize that by doing that it is the ⅗ compromise all over again ?” You look at them with disdain. 

“ y/n, Buck and Danvers are right”, Sam touches your arm up and down, but you retreat your arm from him. 

“ Have you lost your sense of self!”, You look at Sam up and down. 

“ Black people, Native Americans, we are the products of that atrocity to this day. 

You, Danvers, and him think that is the best solution for the Ihumann”, you ask in disbelief. 

“ Y’all disgust me, get the fuck outta my office, the door is right there”. You say to them with a tear in your eye. 

They both look at you, with pleading eyes. 

NOW!!, you shout at them.

Bucky stands from the chair, eyes down. Sam eyes down too and they leave. 

You drop on your chair, your head down, you let the tears win. 

You sob loud, letting the three weeks of stress get out of your system. 

You cry for the young Ihumann that you saw dying, fighting for freedom, defending his folk. You will mourn for him according to their tradition. You take deep breaths, you dry your eyes, after some time. 

Your ears still hurt from the strangled scream of the Ihumman. 

 Feeling a little bit better, you walk out of your office to the main kitchen. You take raw fish and poultry, portion them in Ziploc bags. You take more fish and poultry out of the freezer,  defrost and portion them in Ziploc bags and put it all in a big shopping bag. 

You enter the front doors and you give the Ihummann the portions. 

“We can help you with the oxygen machine and water customization”, three young Ihumann women sign to you. 

“We have enough oxygen, for a couple of days, in the space suit, we can do something that can filter the oxygen here and the water, my name is Kala”. She signs. 

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you Kala, we start tomorrow, at dawn, it is not much, I’m sorry”. You signed pointing  at the food. 

" and I am sorry for losing one of you", you signed, regret all over your face.

“It’s okay, this will really do, my name is Jouuma”, she signed to you.

"Moab, he died a hero, it hurts but it was not in vain, He would've been happy seeing we are free.",Joumma signed to you. You come close to her and extend your arm to hug her. You hugged each other and you distanced from each other 

You put your hand in your chest and sigh in reliefs. They smile

 They nod and yawn. “Get some sleep”. You signed.

“ It’s okay, again thank you for saving us, my name is Ula, goodnight”. One of them signed.

“Goodnight”, you signed to them, with a smile while exiting the spacejet. 

You go back to your office. You take the mattress out of the sofabed.

“Thank Jesus, I bought this”. 

You tiptoe to your shared bedroom with Sam and Bucky. They look asleep. You take some heavy blankets and then to the kitchen for some ice cream and chocolates. 

You were watching some series, but you felt your eyes closing, you were full of chocolates and ice cream and you fell asleep on the sofabed

Sam and Bucky come to your office later in the night. They open the door and tip toe in. 

They are both restless, you are not there. The bed feels cold, without you. 

“Do you think she will get mad when she wakes up on the bed instead ?”, Sam asks.

Bucky shrugs. 

“I just want us to sleep comfortably, I miss her and my bed”, Bucky says voice full tiredness and he yawns. 

They see you deep in sleep. A pint of ice cream and chocolate wrappings inside the pint on the floor next to the sofa bed. The T.V projector on. 

They see your alarm set at the crack of dawn and some calculations on the desk.

Sam, moves the curtains and sees the spacejet.

“She is going to work with them in the morning”, Sam states to Bucky. 

Bucky nodded with his lips pursed. 

Sam and Bucky’s eyes are puffy from crying. 

Bucky carries you out of the office bridal style. 

Sam puts the mattress back in the sofa, turns T.V off and takes out the pint of ice cream with him to the kitchen. 

He goes to the spacejet to talk with Ihumann, with a translator. 

In your bedroom, Bucky puts you in the middle of the bed. He sets the alarm the same time you had the alarm in the office. 

He caresses your face with a delicacy to not wake you up. He ghosts his lips over your hairline and breathes you in. He realizes there, that you are not the same wide eyed sugar baby at the start of your relationship with them. It cost him to shake that state.

 They were your providers, you called for them when you were in trouble, but you grew out of that. 

You are now Dr. y/n. y/l/n, pioneering space anthropologist, alien anatomist and alien rights advocate and scientist.

He sighs and tangles his leg on top of yours, facing you and goes to sleep. 

Sam enters the bedroom 

He sees the beautiful sight of you and Bucky breathing deep asleep.

He realizes, it is true what you said earlier. He has lost his way. In his way to mitigate the scandal that was the world knowing their relationship with you, he began to be more complacent to the point, he is not the same Sam Wilson.

 You are showing him that when you cannot compromise, you won't. You are trying to prevent a system of discrimination. All of the things, he should be doing. 

He goes to the other side of the bed next to you, facing your back, he sleeps the closest he can to you, breathing you in and ghosting his lips over your shoulder.

You woke up and groaned at the sound of the alarm beeping for the third time. You feel two weights next to you. Bucky was cocooned next to you with his leg tangled in yours. Sam was on his back but he has your arm extended on his chest.

You detangle yourself from them and get out the bed. You see them stir a little in their sleep, their faces screwed up. “Hmm, even in their sleep , they can feel whenever I go”, you thought. You shake your head. You love them so much but you cannot let them stagnate you because they want to protect you. You know they mean well, but you are your own person, you have to be. 

You take a shower, put on some comfortable blue overalls and a blue shirt with some blue working boots and you go to the spacejet with the Ihumann. Blue is the mourning color of the Ihumann. 

Kala, Jouuma and Ula are up in their spacesuits. 

“Morning”, you sign

They salute, signing morning. “You are wearing blue”, Ula noticed. 

“I am in mourning for Moab, I will shop, some blue clothes for you later”, you told them. 

“Thank you but we do not want to become burdensome to you and your “husbands” ”, Joumma tells you through signs.

You point at them, then do waves on your face , put the number three with your fingers and a circle with your hands, you wiggle your finger and then throw your hand behind your back hard. 

That means:

“You deserve mourning for Moab, it is not a burden”, you assure them. 

“ How do you know I have “husbands”?”, you signed. 

“ Yesterday night, a man of your color introduced himself as “Sam”, your husband and said the other man with the metal arm “Bucky” was your husband too, that you are working hard to give us a space, he translated with a virtual translator. If we need anything, press this  for any emergency, they will come cause you need sleep”, Ula signed and pointed to the emergency tablet.

“He said, he will try his best on the council to give us our land back”, Jouuma signed.

You sighed. You are happy that the Sam you know is still there. You know, he does not make empty promises. 

They are in awe seeing the dawn and the birds fly.

They are smiling at each other and at the sky. You know that feeling. Whenever you are in space, you are like them, excited from everything around you.

With that all of you go to the basement of the compound

Later that day, you brought all of regular clothes and blue clothes for them and cut holes in the pants so that their tails were free. You wore blue and did intermediate fasting with them for three days in honor of Moab

You were working day and night for a week straight. Kala, Jouuma and Ula were the test subject for the chambers and they gave some recommendations.

 You enlisted the help of Shuri, Tony, Bruce and Helen to make the lowest part of the basement of the compound suitable for them. The basement was big enough for some chambers and a couple of showers with special ionized water for them. Your other work was deciphering the encryption on the chips with Carol.  

It was mostly a reading and staying quiet affair. There was still a little animosity between you and Carol, since you did not agree on the conditions for the end of the cold war.

You have given her the cold treatment. She has apologized already but you were not going to let her off the hook that easy.  

“y/n”, Carol says your name soft. 

You turn to her. 

“I am so sorry, for not seeing the Ihumann how the conditions of armistice can affect the Ihumann, I was shortsighted and I brought Wilson and Barnes to my lack of vision, It was completely insensitive of me not thinking not seeing this from your point of view. I understand if you do not accept my apology. Regardless, I will work on seeing things from different points of views and that these solutions actually help the people that needed the most. I hope de-encrypting this can give us the upper hand so that we can help the Ihummann, Carol apologize. 

you chuckle. 

“That was nice”

“Hmm, how does those words taste coming out of your mouth”, you tease Carol smirking,

She rolls her eyes, “like the worst kind of vinegar, It feels horrible when I fuck up, horrible but they are necessary”, She admits. 

“I hope we can find something with the program we installed”, You go and lay your head on her shoulder. 

She sighs and nods, looking at the chips with connected to the projector, 

“When are you going to resolve your differences with Wilson and Barnes?” Carol asked. 

“I have never seen two men so lovesick and sad. It is like a Skrull tragedy”, Carol expressed. 

“Maybe tonight, but I will have a party with the Ihummann to celebrate in the basement, you are invited too”. You hand her a face mask with a filter and a pair of headphones. 

She is surprised with the mask  and headphones on her hand. “The party is in the basement”, you say walking out. 

The basement is nice, It is their environment, they even manage to start growing some of their vegetables. Ula had some seeds in her pocket.

You are there with your oxygen filtering mask and some headphones to hear the music to your frequency, courtesy of Tony and Shuri. They designed a surround system that was on the frequency of sound apt for them but not deafening for the rest tower.

You were showing different music of “Terra”(Earth), you were showing them Afrobeats, now they are listening to Beyonce's ``Already. The video was there on the projector and they were imitating the dance steps, step by step perfectly. The Ihumann have amazing photographic reflexes. They understand the lyrics, they love the rhythm. There is a translator embedded in the projector. If you take your headphones off, you are sure you will be deaf. They have the volume so high. That’s why you talk in signs. Human voice or humanoid voice and its frequency is too low for them and their voice is too loud for your ears.

They ask you if the blue men in the video are alien, they have blue skin. You signed to them they are human but painted blue. They all signed oh.. 

You signed that you will show them another genre and another artist from you were a little bit younger. You play Send the Addy and 19  by Flo Milli. “It is called Rap/ Hip-Hop and this one of my favorite artists, Flo Milli”. 

They start jumping to the song and then imitating how you dance.

You start dancing just like how you remember doing the way you used to. Going all down and starting twerking to the floor and they all do the same. You laugh seeing them twerk

You remember that night in the hotel years ago.

How lively and also kind of naïve you were. 

How dependent you used to be of Sammy and Buck. You miss that girl from time to time. 

Before trending on twitter as #blackmonicalewinsky, before going with the Guardians to escape all that scandal, change your identity, become a pioneer in a career made by Jane Foster and Carol Danvers, going to missions on different planets, before being an avenger, before escaping from space pirates and rather jump on a dying star than to be theirs, Carol finding you passed out floating in space and getting your powers.

Carol arrived at the celebration and you know she likes Classic Rock. 

You signed to them that the type of music they are going to listen to is Rock and the band is Gun n Roses, that they are classic and renowned here on Terra. They all have wide eyes and they mouth Oh.. 

After a while of rock music videos, they were listening and watching Michael Jackson’s Remember the time. You told  them that Michael was one of the best artists to ever grace Terra. He made moonwalking famous and he is a staple of Terran music. 

They all watch your signing intently to remember what you said, like good kids in school.

They were like little kids in a movie theater. You look at them screaming scared when Michael appeared from the dust in the video. 

“Those sweet memories

Will always be dear to me

And girl no matter what was said

I will never forget what we had

Now baby” Michael was singing. 

Your mind went to all the amazing times, Sammy, Buck and you had. All the times when you felt on top of the world. The song is one of Sam and Buck’s favorites. You need to make amends with each other. You want to but you just haven’t got the time. You are scared your fights were never this long. It has been a month. You are in that weird grey zone. Not that mad at each other but there is still not a proper closure to this.

At the end they were imitating the dance moves in the dance break of the video, perfectly just like the dancers in the video. It was outstanding, seeing Jouuma imitate Michael Jackson so good like she was some live extension of him.

“Michael would’ve been proud; aliens listening to his music and enjoying it”, you thought. 

“ I am going to get ‘em and resolve our differences”, you say to Carol. 

“ Go, get’em, tiger, You will be wobbling to the office tomorrow, I just know”, Carol snickered, you shove her. She laughs and you shake your head and stifle a laugh. 

Talos was with Sam and Bucky and some of the Ihummann with their oxygen filter mask. 

Sam and Bucky were smoking.

Sam was smoking a Cuban cigar, Bucky a plain Marlboro. 

They were all concentrating on a game of poker. 

It was ridiculous how many times they have lost to the Nuk, Cab and Ilu,the Ihumann playing poker with them.

You smell tobacco and you roll your eyes. You hate tobacco, but your heart softens. They only do that when they are too stressed.

You saw them playing. You went to the table. You sat on Sam’s lap, you kissed him on the corner of his lips. You did the same to Bucky, you sat on his lap, you kiss the corner of his lips. You get up and walk , then you turn around your head, looking at them with desire and continue walking, swaying your hips. 

All the Ihumann, Talos, the other Skrulls, look at Bucky and Sam. 

They start either signing whistling sounds or whistling to Sam and Bucky. 

Sam feels his cheeks heat up, Bucky actually gets red in the face. 

“I see you will get lucky tonight,boys, I don’t know much about Earth women, but that is a woman after something, Talos said to them, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“You know that is the first sign of loving, we have received in a month”, Bucky tells the group.

“What the hell are you here for, GO!!!, to where she is, Nuk, the Ihumann signed to them. 

Bucky and Sam understood with the translator. He and Sam get up from the table and walk to their room so fast, one probably could see the dust in shape in their form, just like the cartoons. 

You took all your clothes. You went straight to the shower. 

The water was relaxing and giving you courage. 

You hear their footsteps in the room and you smile.

You  are vibrating with anticipation just like that one time in the hotel or your first time together. 

They hear the shower. They take their clothes in a frenzy. In a second,they are only in their boxes. 

They enter the bathroom. They see you through the glass and their mouths water. 

“May we join, ma’am ?”Bucky asks all breathy, eyes darkening, taking you in. 

“You may”, you whisper to them, sliding the glass barrier.

Sam and he take off their boxers and step into the shower, enter in and  slide the door close.  

You feel the air change when they step up. 

The way they are surrounding you. 

Bucky goes behind you and Sam in front.

Your lips are quivering, feeling Sam and Bucky this close.

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks.

He ghosts his lips on top of yours and kisses you unhurried. 

He increased the pace of the kiss. He sweeps his tongue on your lip. Your lips part giving him access. You are making out with him, massaging each other’s tongues.

You are falling in that feeling of surrendering to them. 

Bucky hugs you from behind then he starts massaging your breast. The water, the contrast of metal and flesh. You throw your head on his shoulder. Your breathing is getting ragged. 

Bucky is hissing in your ear. The rubbing of your ass against his dick was making him dizzy. 

Sam brings you close to him again, to kiss you with all the passion he has.

Bucky entered his finger in you. You gasp into the kiss and Sam starts to suckle on your neck. You are so soaked, and warm on his fingers. “ Fuck it, I can’t wait, I going to take you here ”, Bucky rushes out 

Sam stops the water. 

He makes you find support by putting your hands on the tiles, caging Sam in.

He brings your ass to him and he lines up with your entrance. 

He thrusts into you in one go, groaning “Goddamn”.

You cry out “Daddy, fuck!”. 

Sam drops on his knees in between your legs, flicking his tongue on your clit.

You go cross-eyed. “Sir, fuck, that’s so good”, you whine

After a while, he starts flicking his tongue on Bucky’s balls and Bucky stutters his movement moaning. 

“FUCK!!, you two are going to be the death of me”, Bucky rushes out in between groans and moans. 

You can only moan and bring  your ass back to him. 

“Daddy, you feel so good”, you shrill. 

“Fuck, baby, bring that ass to me, sweetheart keep doing that”, he moans.

Sam keeps flicking his tongue, humming, moaning against Bucky’s perineum. 

He is jerking himself hard, he stops when he feels he is too close. He walks on his knees a little so that he can stand up from Bucky legs. He just looks at sight of you and Bucky ravishing each other.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes”, you babble.

You feel yourself tightening around him.

“Daddy, please, I…”, you scream

“I am close too, honey”, Bucky breathes out. He is going in and out unrelentingly. You come with a strangled high pitched moan. Your whole body shakes with release. 

“Baby, I love you so much, baby, y/n”, he groans, picking his pace up to a new speed. 

Damn!!, you cry out at him going faster. 

You feel his dick twitch 

After a few thrusts, you feel the warmth of his cum inside you and him groaning your name. 

“Wow”, he breathes out. You catch your breaths.

You hum in response, you feel light and relaxed. 

He pulls out, turns you to face him and kisses you. You both smile into your kiss. 

You hug each other tight. 

He runs his hands up and down your back to your ass. 

You breathe him in. You missed this and both of them so much.

You both approach Sam. 

Bucky grabs Sam’s head, kisses him hard, they hug each other,  grope each other, rub against each other. 

They are making out. All tongue, moaning and humming. Bucky kisses his neck and sucks on it to leave a mark. Sam moans and hiss.

“That was so hot, baby boy”, Sam tells Bucky out of breath.

“It was so good, you under me and our baby girl fucking herself on me”, Bucky responds out of breath. They both look at you. 

Your mouth waters and your pussy throbs, watching them. 

“How about we take this to the bed ?”, Sam asks, his voice raspy, deep. 

You look at him. He is rock hard. You bite your lip and you nod. 

“Yes, sir”, you answer him.

You exit the shower.

You all take your towels and dry in a rush, leaving the towels there on the counter.

In the bedroom, you kiss Sam, all tongue, your hand on his ass, his hands on your ass. 

You are both touching and groping each other. 

You kiss his neck then his chest, leaving a trail of kisses until you drop to your knees.

Bucky was enjoying the show, laying on the bed. One hand behind his head and the other jerking himself off slow.

“What do you want, pretty baby ? Sam looks down at you, grabbing his dick. 

“ Use my mouth, sir”, you look at him with doe eyes.

He taps his dick on your lips.

“Open up”, he says. You open your mouth wide.

He goes slowly into your mouth, “Fuuuck”, he rasped.  

Then he pulls slow, “Goddamn”, he rasped.

You choke on his dick over and over again.You bobbed your head up and down, gagging

You jerk the part you can’t reach.

 He groans “Shiiiit”,feeling the back of your throat. 

“That’s it, honey,  deep just like that, you are so good with that mouth, Bucky encourages while stroking himself.

You take Sam out your mouth and lick his head full of pre cum with kitten licks. 

“Ahh,baby” he rushes out.

He fucks your mouth without mercy.

He stops. 

He sits on the edge of bed, he wiggles his finger to come to him. “Crawl to me, like the good girl you are”, he demands. “Yes sir”, you answer, crawling to him. 

You reach to him and he grabs the back of your neck. Driving your head up and down the way he saw fit. He threw his head back, lips parted, eyes to the ceiling, he was breathing heavy, moaning, hissing, groaning. 

Bucky crawled next to Sam and kiss him.

He whispers to his ear: “She sucking your dick good, sweetheart?, I know she is good at that, that mouth of hers does wonders. You keep sucking him, taking a breather here and there and going back to business.

You hear what Bucky says and Sam moaning, your pussy feels wetter.

Bucky grabs your head, making your head go up and down to his pace, while kissing Sam’s neck .

Sam nods fast, moaning.

Bucky pulls your head off Sam's dick. 

“Baby girl, come up, put that ass on daddy’s face”, Bucky rasped. 

You put your ass on his face and you're facing his dick, you stroke it and he hisses. 

“Fuck you’re dripping wet, you like sucking dick that much, pretty girl?” Bucky asks you then lick your slick. 

You mewl; “Yes, Daddy” 

“Come here, Sammy, give our girl what she needs”, Bucky tells Sam. 

Sam crawls to where you are.

He is on his knees, legs a little wide, each on each side of Bucky’s head. 

You are your hands and knees and Bucky is under you. 

Sam lines up with your entrance and thrust in. 

“Sir!!!”,you scream

He rams into you, he spanks your ass cheek. 

You jolt and whine; Sir, that feels so good, spank me, please”. 

He spanks you hard, you feel your ass tingling and burning. You hiss.

Sam fucks into you, groaning, moaning, breathing heavy. 

He grips your hips hard and thrust into you fast, while bringing your ass to him. 

You let out high pitch moans and groans. 

“That’s it baby, I wanna hear you, I’ve missed those sounds”, He says driving into you with force. 

Bucky is under seeing the connection between Sam and you. 

He scoots a little and he is under your clit.

He licks fast on your clit, humming, while jerking himself off. 

His licks, the vibration of his hum, Sam unforgiving pace.

It is too much. 

“Sir, daddy, I’m…”, you cannot not even finish your sentence. 

Sam levels a brutal slap to your ass. 

“You are going to take what we give, baby”, Sam grits out, still fucking you non stop. 

You mewl: “yes, sir”.

You feel him so deep, you close your eyes. 

You scream: “Fuck, sir, Fuck”. 

He yanks you by the hair. You hiss. 

“Who am I, naughty girl ?”, He grits out,

His bottom lip between his teeth, He is going somehow deeper. 

“YOU’RE MY SIR !!'', you scream so hard, the Ihumann would finally hear a human voice for the first time in their life. 

Bucky still licking you, Sam yanking your hair and his pace. 

“GOD!!, you scream, you feel your insides tighten hard and clear liquid comes out.

You come gushing out. 

Sam pulls out and he wets his fingers with your juices.

“Fucking sweet”, he states and hums at the taste. He stares at how you squirt and Bucky laps it all up.

Bucky catches it with his mouth. He jerks himself faster. He comes with a moaned version of y/n , Sammy. 

You grab the sheets hard. Your comfort is Bucky warm abs against your face. Your face has Bucky cum.

Sam thrust in hard again. 

“Baby, squeeze me like that, it’s so fucking goood”, Sam rushes out of breath. 

He is going at it, fast, demanding. 

You mewl, moan and groan. Your eyes closed and lips parted.

He keeps the pace and cries out “SHIT!!!, He groans: “Oh, my God”. 

His eyes close, breathing ragged, he comes with a long, loud moan. 

He empties inside you. 

Sam pulls out, taking deep breaths. He lays on his side of the bed.

You catch your breath, resting your head on Bucky’s abs. your ass is still up. 

Your pussy pushes all the cum out and Bucky laps it all up.

“Ahh fuuckk”, you sigh, you are so sensitive, feeling Bucky's tongue slowly eating you out. 

“You taste so good together”, Bucky says savoring you and Sam.

You scoop Bucky’s cum and lap it all up. 

You stand up from him and go to your spot in the bed. The middle.

Bucky goes to your right and puts his head on your shoulder. 

Sam puts his head on your other shoulder too.  

There is a comfortable silence. 

You all look at the ceiling in a sort of trance. 

Your bodies are still vibrating from the pleasure. 

You remember this feeling. You felt like this, when you were together for the first time. 

You smile and start singing: 

Do you remember when we fell in love?

We were young and innocent then

Do you remember how it all began?

It just seemed like heaven, so why did it end?

Sam followed with: 

“Do you remember, back in the fall?

We'd be together all day long

Do you remember us holding hands?

In each other's eyes, we'd stare

Tell me” 

You sign all together: 

Do you remember the time?

When we fell in love

Do you remember the time?

When we first met, girl

Do you remember the time?

(Oh, I)

When we fell in love

Do you remember the time?

Sam continue singing: 

Do you remember how we used to talk?

You know, we'd stay on the phone at night till dawn

Do you remember all the things we said?

Like, "I love you so, I'll never let you go

Bucky sings, horrible out of key; 

Do you remember, back in the spring?

Every morning, birds would sing

Do you remember those special times?

They'll just go on and on

In the back of my mind

You laugh after that. 

“What made you remember “remember the time”?”, Bucky asks you 

“ We were having the party in the  basement, the Ihumann were watching the video and dancing to that, when I went looking out for you’, you answer to him. ‘It is amazing how they catch on moves so damn fast, they dance the same as the video dancers, like outstanding and it is a little bit eerie like Jouuma was like a reincarnation of Michael.” You add on. 

“Okay, space nerd”, Sam teases you. Bucky chuckles at that. 

You glare at them

They face you. Sam faces you with his weight on his elbow so that he can see your profile. Bucky does the same. 

“I am sorry, y/n”, Sam starts.

“You were right, I was losing my sense self, we need to help the most vulnerable,

 We will find another solution for the Kree and the Skrulls and the Ihummann. 

You show me what I should be doing. When you can’t compromise, don't. 

I am sorry for holding you back. I just want to be your protector, just like I was once ,but I know things are different now. It just cost me. You have been through a lot and I wanted to save you from all that and I couldn’t. I will change. I will ask you what you need instead of assuming, I am sorry, baby ”, he states and he chokes a little sob on the last part.

“Aww, Sammy, you and Buck are the people that make me feel safe and loved. It's just that I’m not in college anymore. A lot happened and I’m not the same person but I love you and how you two always are there despite our differences ” you say while sitting up against the headboard.

You let him put his head on your chest. 

“ I am sorry, I sidetrack the mission but it is just that when I see something go south, I can’t ignore it”, I am sorry I kicked you out of my office like that. I will try my best not to lose my temper like that again”, you apologize to them.  

“You are right, y/n, It is a horrible plan, we need to have some alternative and I know it is in those chips. I am sorry for being an ass to you in space and I am sorry for making you feel bad to save the Ihumman, like Sammy said we want to protect you and we feel we have fail at that, when everyone were against you for this relationship, the scandal, the kidnapping, you getting your powers  but you are right you are different but at the same baby we fell in love with and I love you and I promise not to be overbearing”, Bucky apologizes. He puts his head on your chest too.  

“You were right in saving them, I was so far removed, that was me and Steve in the 40s.

If he didn’t disobey orders to save me constantly, I wouldn't be here”, Bucky states 

You kiss his head. 

" Buck, it's so good that you think that way, I am thankful for you and Sammy, you two did what you can, you received a lot of backlash too . You are enough more than enough ",you say to him, rubbing his back.

“You still owe me a fucking car, asshole, you rip my fucking steering wheel”, Sam tease Bucky with faux offence. 

Bucky sighed  “I am sorry, Sammy for damaging your car and rip the steering wheel”, Bucky apologizes

You all laugh. 

“What are we going to do if we do not find anything on those chips”, You worry. 

“Hey baby you are one of the most brilliant minds there is out there , you will figure it out and we will  be right here by your side”, Sam reassures you and Bucky nods in agreement.

“Let that grey matter of yours, rest a minute, honey pie”, Bucky said to you while bopping your nose.

“You are right and I love you so much”, you answer.

“We love you so much, pretty baby, Sam answered you and kissed your cheek”. 

You all went to the bathroom and shower for real this time. They were kisses here and there. 

You brush your teeth.

Sam grabs the cocoa butter and he moisturizes you and Bucky then moisturizes Sam. 

Bucky wraps the night scarf around your head for your hair with a good knot

. Sam changed the covers and put the dirty covers in the dirty clothes basket. 

You change into your PJS. You wore a silk camisole. Bucky some loose shorts, no underwear and no shirt.  Sam wore some sweatpants  and no shirt.

You kissed each other goodnight and slept tangled with each other. 

#sambucky #send the addy #remember the time #blackmissfrizzle challenge

[the-darklings]

—𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅;

pairing: john wick x f!reader x santino d’antonio

word count: 7.9k+ (missed 8k by like 20 words welp)

summary: Is it possible to hate and miss someone in the same breath? 

warnings: swearing, violence/blood, angst.

notes: Well, we have arrived at canon events soldiers. This is going to be one bumpy ride so fasten your seatbelts ladies, gents and others. And enjoy!

children of ares series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | . . | 07 |

OPEN CONTRACT: 

JOHN WICK

2 MILLION USD

BY: VIGGO TARASOV

The light emitting from your phone screen is the only one in your room, and you breathe in and out slowly, thinking.

Of course, the team was going to fail. Five years or not, John is still…

He’s still John Wick.

It almost makes you wonder what exactly Tarasov was thinking sending such an insulting number to his front door. But you wouldn’t have known about the dinner reservation John rang in if it hadn’t been for Winston who shared the information with that accepting, knowing air about him.

There’s a storm coming.

Seems like the Bowery King was right to say such a thing. Because Iosef—that cruel, stupid, petulant moron—has now unleashed hell upon his own family and himself. If there is anything of the old John still left inside, you know that he will tear New York to shreds to uproot the young idiot from his hiding spot. There is no hole left in this city where John will not eventually find him.

You swallow, locking your phone, and run your hand harshly over your face.

This—you don’t need this right now. Not when you have yourself to think about, and especially not when there are clearly individuals out there gunning for you and Santino, too.

John belongs in the past, and it makes you wonder if it’s some cruel joke that life keeps pushing him back into your path.

2 million contract though.

It won’t surprise you if it’s money Tarasov took from Santino for your own job. The sum feels too deliberate and Tarasov knows that the news will reach you soon.

Rising from your seat with a jerk, you grab your jacket and walk towards the door. You can’t focus on work right now less you mess up, and this waiting for the axe to drop is starting to drive you insane.

Winston is out, you know that much, but the bar is always open.

Slumping in the elevator, you close your eyes, trying to imagine what all this could mean.

A war, for one. A bloody one.

John has never given up on anything and you recall the empty look in his eyes the last time you saw him. For Iosef to come into his home and to take that very last shred of peace and hope from him—

The elevator rattles to a stop and you pull the door to one side, stepping out.

“I apologise, Mr. Wick,” Charon’s smooth voice reaches your ears and your head jerks towards the reception desk. “But I cannot give out information about other guests.”

John stands facing the concierge, his back to you, and seeing him in his old suit takes you back five years. It’s both devastating and chilling to see him back here. The lobby may look different but this moment is like watching a memory loop.

“I just need to talk to her.”

He sounds—

Charon’s expression doesn’t ease. “I apologise, sir Wick, but we respect the individual privacy of those that stay with us. Even if you were once…associates.” 

The slight edge in Charon’s voice surprises you. It’s not the kind of thing you would expect from him, especially considering that Charon and John have always had an amicable relationship. But that’s in the past, you remind yourself. It’s been five years since they’ve last seen each other.

“It’s okay, Charon,” you interrupt, walking up to the reception table and ignoring the many curious stares that you can feel drilling into you. “I’ve been expecting him.”

John turns upon hearing your voice and you meet his stare evenly.

Scraps and bruises mar his face, and you bite back a sarcastic comment about how he must be losing touch. But the time of teasing and ease between you has long since passed.

John doesn’t say anything to you but you see everything you need to know in his eyes. That, at least, hasn’t changed. He’s only guarded when he wants to be.

“Only Winston can reach me,” you remind the concierge without breaking eye contact with John, and incline your head towards the elevator.

You turn without waiting for a reply and start heading back, your eyes sliding over the curious onlookers with a clear warning. Most drop their eyes but a few brave enough still hold your stare, gaping openly. John follows behind you silently and comes to stand at your side, both of you waiting for the elevator to arrive down without a word.

The journey to your room is deafeningly quiet and little by little you keep adding to your armour. This will be a storm to weather, and you need to be ready.

“Same room,” John notes calmly. “Some things don’t change.”

“And some do,” you remark pointedly and invite him inside. “Water?”

He shakes his head, and you gesture for him to sit down, which he does.

John is rigid. As always his features are calm, but an old, familiar tension lines his frame and you drop down on the seat in front of him. The very same chair that Santino sat in only a few days ago. If you inhale deep enough you can still pick up faint traces of his cologne.

John gazes at you for a long moment but you don’t rush ahead. You simply sit there, already knowing what he wants, but hearing it from his mouth is a whole other matter. So you wait, expectant.

“He killed my dog.”

You stare at him flatly, still silent. John, seeing no reaction, leans closer and it’s hard to look into his dark eyes. You’ve spent so much time looking up to him—at him—that it makes you feel caught between two different times in your life. The past with him in it, and the present where there’s just you and a sparse few individuals you consider your own.

“Where is he?”

Your smile is slow coming before you chuckle, shaking your head as you lean back in your chair, staring at him through narrowed eyes.

You understand his grief and anger and need for revenge. That’s all perfectly fine with you. Those things are familiar, safe. Those emotions embody you both in different ways—always have.  

But—

“Do you have any idea what you are asking of me?” you wonder idly, softly, gazing at him pensively.

John’s lips press together and his head lowers for a moment though you don’t miss the flash of guilt there.

So he is aware, at least there’s that.

For a minute, you’re both silent; he with his head bowed as if repentant, and you with an icy, hard stare that won’t let him escape now. If he wants this, if he really believes he has any right to ask it of you, you will hear it directly from his mouth.

“I know it’s a lot—”

“No,” you cut him off immediately, rising to your feet and your hands clench into fists as you round the seat, not looking at him. That bitter, cold hurt floods your veins once again and your teeth grit harshly. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me. Even if I knew where the hell Iosef Tarasov spends his time—which I sure as hell don’t—do you have any idea what happens to me if I tell you?”

John looks up at you, but his voice is calm as always when he speaks. “No one will ever know that it was you—”

“You are asking me to throw away seven years of hard work,” you whisper but the quietness of your words slices through the room like a scream. Your eyes meet John’s and you wonder if your wariness and disappointment are as clear to him as they are inside your chest. “Seven years of murdering in that man’s name, and now that I am a breath away from freedom, you ask this of me? Tarasov will know that it was me because he knows you would go to me first. Even if he doesn’t get to me himself, you already know what the High Table will do to me for such a betrayal.”

“After Helen—” he begins and his voice catches, his low baritone trembling. He blinks, his head lowering and you swallow weakly, turning your head away from him. His pain is too raw and you don’t want it to soften your heart, to drive you to him again. It’s no longer your job to comfort him. “After she died. That dog is all I had, (Name). My only hope. I was no longer alone. I know you understand that better than anyone.”

You do. You did.

Once you would have waded through a river of blood for him with a smile on your face. Once you thought you understood him better than anyone, and him you.

“We were close once, John,” you admit even though it sounds like a hilarious understatement of what you had. “But that door closed a long time ago. I can’t help you.”

John’s lips part to reply but the shrill ring of your phone fills the air and your eyes flutter closed before you pull it from your pocket.

Your heartbeat jumps at the name reflecting back at you.

Santi.

Not looking at John, you answer, lifting the device to your ear. It’s an effort to force your voice into neutrality. “Hey, grumpy,” you greet with a slight smile. “How is Vancouver treating you?”

A chuckle sounds on the other side and your smile widens. “Ah, cara mia. Rather cold,” he notes pleasantly though still manages to sound petulant about it. “And very boring without you here to keep me company. Business is good though.”

“Good,” you say, and stare at your dark carpet with dread coiling your stomach. “Listen, can I call you back later? I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’ve heard about John. I assume you have as well.”

You go still. For a second, you think even your heart skips a beat. Except it’s the exact opposite of a happy sensation.  

“Yes.”

There is a pause. In the distance, you think you can hear the sound of rushing water. Santino likes being near water. It reminds him of home—of his childhood and his mother. For a moment, you almost wish you were there with him instead of here. Here in this room with the personification of your heartache and lost love sharing your breathing space.  

“Have you talked to him?”

Even though it pains you to do so, you can’t force yourself to lie to him. “Yes.”

You know he gleans as much from your tone and answer as you do from his silence. The suffocating, dreadful silence that is so unlike him—especially with you.

“Is he with you right now?”

His voice is quiet, his accent heavier as if the words take substantial effort to get out, and you work your jaw restlessly.

“Yes.”

The silence on the other side is an endless, ugly thing and you feel oddly helpless. You don’t like how this is making you feel. You don’t like the fact that you are forced into this situation in the first place.

“I see,” he says, at last, his voice stilted. You don’t miss the switch to Italian either. “Do look after yourself, cara.”  

“Santino—”

From the corner of your eye, you spot John’s head snap in your direction, his eyes full of surprise.

But the line goes dead. Your hand lowers and you stare at the phone for a second, your fingers tightening around it. It doesn’t ring again.

“Santino?” John wonders and his quiet voice is loaded with things unsaid.

You don’t look at him when you answer. “He’s my friend.”

It feels hollow saying it. Because he is that but—

I am a patient man. I can wait.

“Santino doesn’t have friends,” John points out neutrally, and you feel your head slowly turn in his direction. Whatever he sees on your face seems to give him a pause.

“He does now.”

This time the silence between you is different. For the first time since your reunion at the cemetery, John seems to be looking at you with different eyes. Fresh eyes that finally understand the passage of time. Eyes that note the difference in the way you hold yourself. In the way you no longer lean into his shadow hoping to make it your home.

You are your own shadow now.

“What I said earlier still stands,” you tell him flatly, finally putting your phone away even though it sits like a heavy weight in your pocket. “I can’t help you. I understand, I do. But I’m not going to forfeit my life for this.”

John stands, coming closer. “(Name)—”

You turn away from him, heading towards the door. “But I’m not the only individual residing in this building with the power to help you.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you see him straighten, understanding shining in his eyes.  

The bar is a buzz.

It’s Friday night so you suppose that should not surprise you that much.

The stares that follow you and John even more so.

For most, seeing you together is either a novelty or a call from the past. You’re unsure how it makes you feel. It’s as simple, as comfortable, by John’s side as it's always been. But you lack the ease you once carried around him. Back then your trust in him was so absolute but now only pieces of it remain.

Perkins spots you, her pretty lips twisting into a sneer when you wink at her, her expression relaxing only when she sees John next to you. She salutes him with her drink and it makes you smirk.

Aiming high as always.

Envy and jealousy have always been easy for her. She’s never been able to let go of the knowledge that she’s in your shadow; her accomplishments always being compared to what you have achieved in the past. You’ve never intended for there to be bad blood between you but it seems that you both carry a natural dislike for one another.

After Santino, however, she no longer approaches you as brazenly as she once did.

Remembering that confrontation still makes you grin.

Winston sits in his booth as per usual when you approach him, working; a drink and a cigarette in front of him. You smile despite yourself.

“Martini kind of night, is it?” you call as you come to a stop before him, and his head lifts at the sound of your voice. He registers the sight in front of him and leans back slowly, taking you both in while you stand side-by-side. “Brought you a guest.”

“Winston,” John greets, and the warmth in his voice is genuine. It doesn’t surprise you though. These two men were friends once. Perhaps not the same level of friendship as you and John but there’s still enough history between them. “Good to see you.”

“Well, well,” Winston begins, pleased, a smile lingering on his face. “This is a sight I never thought I’ll get to see again. The Boogeyman and the Viper, together again. Reunion of the century, if I do say so myself. Sit down, Johnathan. You as well, dear,” he adds when he notices you eyeing the bar.

You hesitate but sit down after both men fix you with an expectant stare.

Your eyes track the people inside the room, most either openly staring or whispering under their breaths when they look towards your booth.

“Have you really thought this through?” Winston’s question brings you back to the present, and his voice carries a note of something almost patronising. Like John is already in too deep and has no idea how much worse it can get. “I mean really chewed it down to the bone. You put so much as a pinky back into this pond, and you may find that something latches on and drags you back to its depths.”

“I just want his son.”

You click your tongue before Winston can answer and give John a sideways look. “Let me tell you something interesting about Viggo and Iosef, John,” you say, your voice forcefully calm as your fingers drum against the pocket where your phone sits. “Iosef is a spoiled, rotten little bastard who’s going to run his father’s empire to the ground because he lacks the drive and the spine to carry his work through. Viggo knows this too. That being said, make no mistakes. If you go after his son, Viggo will unleash hell upon you. Do you really think he will let his only son’s killer live on in peace? You know what kind of man he is.”

A man like us.

Tarasov is a different side to the violence and the hardship that has forged you and John. He’s the power, the influence, the order. You and John are the cruxes, the foundation, the bricks he used to achieve those things with.

Winston takes a small sip of his Martini, his gaze both amused and pointed. “She speaks the truth. And I would encourage you to listen.”

You blink, shooting a brief look of surprise Winston’s way but the man only smiles faintly.

John looks unhappy but knows better than to argue. Despite his silence, you know that he will not drop this. He can’t. He doesn’t have it in him; the capacity to let this go.

John Wick is only a hurricane you can weather and hope for the best.

“You are amongst friends here, Johnathan,” the manager states and you know from his tone that he means you specifically. Old, sly bastard. “Now might be the perfect time to sit down, have a drink, and relax. Work through old problems to gain fresh…perspectives.”

It’s an endeavour to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I need a drink,” you mutter instead, rising from your seat and wandering towards the bar.  

Then, somewhere between the booth and the bar, it hits you. Like a brick to the face and you practically collapse onto the small chair.

John is back.

Back here in your atmosphere again. Till now it’s been like some surreal illusion with the added benefit of his presence never fully sinking in.

But he’s back.

Your muscles tense when he comes to a stop behind you, hesitating, before slowly lowering himself down beside you.

He’s come back to this world, just like the Bowery King said that he might, but not for the reason you might have hoped.

When the King said he might come back, there had been a tiny hope in your chest that if—if—he really did come back that it would be for you. Because, perhaps, if nothing else, he wants to be with you as a partner if not a lover. That perhaps he wants to try and mend the deep-running hurt between you.

But no.

John is not sitting beside you because he wants to be with you. Not even because he wants to be back in this world.

He’s back because he wants revenge. Because his wife’s dog was killed—his last connection to her—and now he has nothing.

Perhaps, it could have been different if you’ve stayed that night of the funeral when he asked you to.

But, perhaps, you would have also lost whatever little of your old self still remained if you did.

I will never abandon you.

Your heart clenches at the sudden, unbidden memory. Santino.

“You really have changed,” John speaks up suddenly, glancing your way. His eyes focus on your hands and he visibly hesitates. “You don’t wear it anymore.”

Your fingers curl loosely at his observation and you stare at the bar blankly. It’s true that his viper ring no longer lives on your hand but you wish it were that simple.

“I survived,” is all you offer in reply; an echo of his words from seemingly a lifetime ago now. “I survived.”

Without you, goes on unsaid but you know he gets your deeper meaning by the way he looks away from you. As if ashamed.

Addy brings your usual and you observe her open delight at seeing John again.

“Hell, it’s so good to see you both together again,” she exclaims with a bright grin. “Just like old times, huh?”

John dips his head in a nod with a discreet look in your direction. You don’t say anything.  

“Compliments of the house,” she announces as she places a drink in front of him as well.

Something scribbled on the napkin catches your eye and you suck in a sharp breath.

Red Circle.

You both turn around almost immediately, looking towards Winston’s booth. The man smiles slightly, enigmatic as always, and raises his glass to you in a silent cheer.

John’s heavy stare moves to rest on you, but you keep eye contact with Winston for a moment longer. You’re not sure what exactly the look in his eyes means, but when you finally do look towards John what you see there surprises you.

He looks hopeful.

So hopeful that for a moment it clenches your stomach and heart like an unyielding fist.

In that look, you see years of partnership, of protecting each other, of being a team. A lethal, harmonious duet of death.

But you’re not that anymore.

You are you, and John is John. A grieving husband.

Not yours—never yours—and you’ve accepted that a long time ago.

And yet.

He still calls to you.

Even through the pain and the rage, there’s still an ember of something.

But even so.

Your head turns back towards the bar, your drink, and you force out a choked, “Happy hunting.”

He lingers for a breath, his disappointment palpable before he walks away without another word.

You don’t look back at him as he leaves. 

Your steps cut a tight line. Back and forth, back and forth. Agitated.

“I’m surprised.”

“Don’t be. Playing coy doesn’t suit you.”

A laugh. Amused. “Then I shall exercise patience.”

“You do that.”

You don’t wait for an answer.

The line crackles on the sixth ring. Not that you expect anything else. He likes to keep you waiting.

Silence greets you.

“I need your help.”

“You,” is the soft disbelieving murmur. “Need my help?”

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

You hear a sigh on the other side, reluctant but open, and don’t bother holding back your victorious smile. 

By the time you stagger out of the bar, you have come to two conclusions.

One, you did the right thing by not getting involved.

Despite the feeling of guilt that has tried to drag you from your seat and after John, you’re glad that you stayed in your spot and chatted with Addy for hours instead. You might have felt Winston’s stare burn into the back of your head a few times but he didn’t call for you and you certainly didn’t go to him either.

The second conclusion is that you need to talk to Santino. As soon as possible.

Address everything from start to finish. Plan your next step. Find whoever knows about Chicago. That’s where your priorities now lay. Tarasov can ring the dinner bell for the last job whenever he feels ready to do so, but as of right now, there are more pressing issues on your plate.

John’s appearance may have caught you off guard but your life doesn’t just stop.

If Iosef is not dead yet, he soon will be and you can’t imagine John coming back. Properly this time.

You certainly can’t imagine him coming back and actually staying. Not for you, at least.

“(Name).”

“Jesus!”

“Not quite,” is the wry, laboured reply.  

John staggers on his feet and you move on instinct, wrapping your arms around him. He looks like he’s just been through a war zone, covered in blood and clothes ripped. His raven hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and he gasps when you press too hard on his no doubt many bruises.

“What the hell John?”

“He’s gone,” he breathes harshly, not answering you. The look in his eyes is difficult to pinpoint but it’s not happy that’s for sure. He leans into you willingly when you help him walk towards the reception desk though. “I didn’t get to him in time.”

Iosef.

Unease coils your insides.

You had hoped that John would succeed on his first attempt. Now, there’s no telling what’s coming. Or where the brat is, for that matter.

“Miss Vipress,” Charon greets, his expression vacant before his eyes move towards John and his eyebrow cocks slightly. “Mr. Wick.”

“Call Doc, please,” you request, awkwardly fishing out a golden coin and dropping it on the counter. “Tell him I have first aid covered.”

“Certainly,” the concierge answers, nodding his head. “Anything else? Some bourbon, perhaps?”

He directs the last part towards John who grunts and nods, making you roll your eyes. Shooting a grateful look at the man, you half walk, half-stumble John towards the elevator. The ride up consists of you mostly poking holes in his clothes and checking his vitals.

John, as always, stays upright by sheer will alone. Some things, perhaps, really don’t change after all.

His room lacks the lived-in touch your own has when you enter. It’s cold and clinical. You spot his bag neatly placed in the corner but otherwise, not a single particle of dust seems to be out of place. When compared to your own room full of vials, notes, and odd-smelling plants and herbs, this place is like a hospital.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you grunt without thinking as you help him sit down, huffing from the strain of his weight. “Sincerely hope you know that.”

John glances up at you, his eyes brighter than they were moments before, and a slight smile twitches his lips. The first you’ve seen since your reunion.

“I know,” he replies and there’s that wry humour to be found in his tone that makes you glare at him in annoyance. “You’ve told me plenty of times in the past.”

Your lips part to reply—a jab ready to go—but there’s a knock on the door and you move towards it, your hand hovering over one of your blades.

“It’s me,” a familiar voice calls out and your hand drops down as you pull the door open.

“Doc,” you greet the elderly man with a nod. “Good to see you. You were quick.”

The older man shuffles into the room right away, his bag in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in another. He places the drink on the coffee table, his disapproval clear, but starts setting out his tools without commenting.

“I was in the area,” he shoots back, casting a look at John and then back at you. “You did not work together?”

The silence his question births is an awkward one, and you pointedly look away when Doc asks John to start removing his clothes.

“No, we didn’t,” you confirm calmly, carefully so, and grab an empty glass to use. “Got my new shipment yet?”

The older man looks up at you with a shake of his head and you dip your head in understanding. John observes the exchange, seemingly confused, and it’s yet another reminder that he has no idea how your relationships have changed in the past five years. Because he hasn’t been a part of your world for five years.

“You could have done this yourself,” the man comments lightly, shooting you a quick look. “I passed my knowledge on for more than poison making.”

You walk up to them, offering the glass to John who takes it with a grateful nod but don’t miss the way he focuses on your exchange with Doc. Curious and more than a little confused.

“Yes, but poison making is so much simpler,” you shoot back with a slight smile. “And you’re better at stitching than I am. Your hands are steadier.”

The old man shakes his head, clicking his tongue, and gives you a reproachful look over his shoulder. “Your hands are plenty steady, girl,” he notes, and you don’t miss the slightly chiding note in his words. Your eyes lock with John’s and you bob your head from side to side mimicking Doc’s words, a joking smile on your face. “What you lack is the belief that those hands are good for something other than bloodshed.”

Perhaps.

No, definitely, but neither of them needs to know that.

“Whatever you say, Doc,” you mutter, passing him some bandages without looking.

A tiny, barely-there smile lingers across John’s face, and despite being half undressed and bruised from head to toe, he looks more at ease now than he has in a while.

You know why.

Because despite everything unsaid and things long since passed, this is familiar. This is safety. This has been your bread and butter for years, and you feel the warmth of this simplicity sink back into your bones with every inhale.

It makes you as happy as it makes you sad.

John peers at you over Doc’s shoulder, and you at him, neither of you speaking while the man between you works. He’s methodical and always takes his time but his hands are the best you can hope for in New York.

“Just like the old times,” Doc hums under his breath after a lull of silence between you. “Hopefully better fortune will follow you from now on, Mr. Wick.”

It does feel like before. When it was just the two of you against the world.

You rise to your feet abruptly, making both men look over in your direction.

“I’m going to get you something for the pain,” you inform them hurriedly, and you can see the worry in John’s dark eyes, and attempt to smile convincingly. “The Doc is almost done anyway. Try resting.”

“But you are coming back?” he checks and you offer him a tight smile.

“Of course.”  

Your words sound faint, almost distant in your ears, and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to keep your composure.  

It’s an effort to keep your steps steady and slow before you close the door behind you.

It takes you longer than necessary to get the vial of pain remedy you’ve made for yourself a while back.

That’s because the journey back to your room is a blur, and when you do get inside the familiar walls, it takes you several moments to pull yourself together.

Is it possible to hate and miss someone in the same breath?

Is it possible to turn a blind eye to years of struggling and pain just for the sake of having something good back?

Rubbing your forehead harshly, you stare at the vial in your hand, a heavy throb quaking your heart.

Everything has a price as Santino is so fond of reminding you, and it makes you wonder what price this will demand of you.

Locking the door to your room, you approach the elevator, ignoring the buzzing of the phone in your pocket. Frankly, you’re not in the mood to talk to the Pope himself right now—much less anyone else.

The elevator grinds to a halt and you push the partition to the side but the moment you do, a crash greets your ears. A cool blade slips into your palm and you tense. Across the corridor, John’s room door is wide open and you spot Perkins of all people crawling closer towards you.

She looks bruised and bloodied as she tries to get away and you move towards her.

The blade almost takes off her ring finger as it sinks into the carpet in front of her face and she freezes.

“Now whatever are you doing here?” you question coldly, grabbing your gun from underneath your jacket. “Late night tryst?”

Perkins glares up at you, her expression livid before she tries to grab the blade in front of her but you react faster by stomping on her hand and levelling the gun in front of her face. “Please try,” you state lightly, almost pleasant.

John staggers out of the door, looking in an even rougher shape than before. His side is dark with fresh blood, the stitches Doc has so meticulously sown clearly torn, and he leans heavily against the door for a second. Your eyes meet and you finally understand exactly what has happened.

Perkins has tried to complete a hit on John inside the Continental. Tarasov is scared enough to allow such a thing to be associated with his name, regardless of the consequences. Scared enough to allow for one of the unbreakable rules of your world to be broken in his name.

John stalks closer towards you and you move back, still keeping the gun on Perkins. She’s a slippery one and you would rather not take any chances.

“You okay?” you ask, not dropping your eyes from the furious woman on the ground.

The assassin grunts with a nod and grabs Perkins, pulling her up till the muzzle of his gun presses into her cheek. The woman squirms but John’s grip only tightens. He’s done playing games and you can tell this will not end well for Perkins unless she gives him what he wants.

“Where is Iosef?”

Perkins snarls, twisting inside his hold, but still winces when John pushes the gun deeper into her skin; a silent warning. To her credit, she doesn’t falter, which is not something you can say about many. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“Please don’t,” you input with a mocking little smile that you’ve seen Santino use so many times in the past, effectively catching her attention. A perfect trick to heat someone’s blood and get them to slip up. “I have means by which to make you talk.”

The woman grunts under her breath, more blood smudging across her lips, and shoots you a venomous look. “Fuck you. You know what will happen to you—”

John jerks her to the side roughly, silencing her, and your arm lowers at his chilly whisper, “Give me something, Perkins. This is not worth dying for.”

She swallows, a flicker of healthy fear twitching her pinched expression at last. You step closer, the silent threat obvious, and her glare sharpens.

“He’s going to hunt you both down like dogs,” she spits instead, meeting your stare with a wide grin. Her bloodstained teeth make for a gory sight and you feel your expression harden at her words. “He will get this entire city searching for you. He—”

“The church,” you interrupt her little rant, and her mouth snaps shut at your blunt statement. “Tarasov keeps his personal stash of blackmail there. As well as a lot of money. You want him? Take him through that.”

Both Perkins and John stare at you. One in disbelief and one in silent understanding. John knows what this means but, predictably, it’s Perkins that reacts outwardly.

“You traitorous bitch!” she snarls, her eyes wide as she trashes again. “When Viggo learns about this he will destroy you—”

John drives the butt of the gun against her temple and she slumps to the floor, unconscious. For a moment it’s so still that your breathing seems like the loudest sound in New York City.

“Do I know you?”

You jerk to the side, your gun flying up as you point it at the man standing in the doorway of one of the rooms. But your arms lower a moment later when the familiar features register.

“I think so,” John speaks slowly, carefully twisting around to look at the newcomer too.

“Harry,” you greet the older man and he nods at you with a smile. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Better,” he answers and his attention goes back to your old partner. “John. Good to see you again. For a moment I thought you were getting into trouble with D’Antonio again, V.”

Purposely turning your head away from them, you slot your gun back in its original place, giving them a clipped, “Not this time.”

You feel John’s focus on you for a moment before his scrutiny lets up and he stands.

“You still up for earning a coin, Harry?”

The church looks peaceful in the early morning light.

John stands beside you, his warmth a faint brush in the chilly New York air, and you find yourself shivering despite your best effort not to.

The silence between you is—despite what you first assumed would be the case—heavy. John wants to ask you, and you don’t want him to. When faced with the question of why you are doing this, placing yourself in danger for him yet again, it always comes back to a simple fact.

For yourself.

Not for him. At least, that’s what you have to convince yourself of.

You and Tarasov have your own unfinished business.

Things always come full circle. Finally, after all these years, you are starting to understand Santino’s philosophy. Things always have a way of following you, never allowing you a moment of peace. You can run from them, but ghosts have a way of clawing their way back into your life.

You will always make the same mistakes, viper.

You shiver at the memory, shoving it away harshly. 

“He has a vault under the church,” you break the silence between you, and feel his head turn in your direction. “The security is minimal because not many go to a church with intention of breaking into it, and he doesn’t want to draw attention. That’s its genius. But if you want Tarasov’s attention this is the way to get it.”

“You don’t have to come,” he states mildly, though sounds almost reluctant to do so. You don’t look at him, still focused on the building before you. It seems to loom now; a tall, frightening skeleton of your past. “I know the risk you’re taking right now. I—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, and finally look towards him. “This is not the time for this conversation. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me.”

John hesitates and turns to face you fully. His eyes catch the light and you’re unsurprised to find that they still reflect amber in direct sunlight. The brightness strips away at his dark demeanour and leaves only a man behind. A good man, despite his flaws—despite his grief and thirst for vengeance.

“If this goes badly,” he begins softly and pauses for a second as if searching for the right words. “I want you to run. Promise me you will.”

Even though your hands are buried in your jacket pockets, your fingers still clench tightly at his words. It’s impossible not to miss his concern for your wellbeing.

“Run,” you repeat slowly, rolling the word on your tongue, tasting it. “You know I did a lot of that in the beginning. Running. It’s all I did. Just to stay alive. But then I realised that I shouldn’t be the one doing the running. So I don’t anymore.”

He knows what you’re referring to. Those five years are splitting you apart like a bottomless chasm even though there’s less than a footstep between you. The five years in which you had to defend yourself while he lived his happy life with his beautiful wife.  

“Let’s do this, shall we?”

You take a step forward but John’s hand halts you, resting against the crook of your elbow. On instinct, your own arm snaps out, striking his wrist to get rid of his touch. You suck in a sharp breath when you realise what you’ve just done, heartbeat galloping, and John’s expression creases with worry, sadness, understanding.

“Don’t touch me,” you force out because it hurts. His touch burns and it’s not the kind of pleasant warmth that once soothed you. “Just—don’t.”

Pivoting, you march towards the church, your jaw set and lips pressed in a tight line. Your heartbeat still betrays you though; a fluttering, tiny bird trying to escape its own cage of bones.

Despite your exchange only moments prior, you still wait by the door for John who catches up with you quickly. He falls to your side—an old, familiar routine you’ve done dozens of times even if it’s been years—and sharing a glance, move inside on his signal.

The door creaks open and you note the usual suspects sitting in their pews as you stroll inside.

Much like you predicted, and told John earlier, the priest falters upon seeing your face. There’s a moment of fleeting panic there, and you know that he’s wondering if Tarasov himself is a step behind you. You only ever come to the church if the man demands it of you, and it effectively sows doubt and confusion when you notice more eyes look towards you. But the priest doesn’t know who John is so, as per instruction, he plays the role assigned to him.

“My children, can I help you?”

“Yes,” you state amiably and pull out your gun, pointing it at him. “You can.”

You then shoot him in the leg.

It’s a flurry of who can pull the trigger faster. The guards, caught unaware and panicked, are nowhere near quick enough. You count four that drop to the ground dead, and John shoulders his machine gun calmly, looking unruffled. The old lady continues sitting inside the pew, staring at you wide-eyed, and you give her a small wave when you pass her by.

“I always wanted to do that,” you comment offhandedly, tilting your head to observe the squirming man. “He’s a shit priest.”

John nods his head a little, considering, and the priest shoots you an enraged glare.

“Do you have any idea who you’re fucking with?” he splutters, clutching onto his bleeding leg. “You traitorous trash! Viggo will—”

You kick him in the leg. The man lets out a strangled little yell, curling in on himself. John gives you a look as if to say he understands what you meant earlier, and grabs the priest by the scruff of his neck.

“Yeah, we do actually,” he replies dryly in Russian and shoves the priest ahead of you. “Take us to the vault.”

“N-No.”

You pull out a blade, twisting it between your fingers. “Do disagree with him again. Then I get my hands on you.”

The priest stumbles back, his frantic stare switching from you to John, clearly trying to find a way out of his predicament. The assassin gestures with the barrel of his gun and the priest swallows, stumbling in the direction of the staircase.

Just as you recall, there are two more guards downstairs, and disposing of them is easy; a bullet each. Tarasov’s vault stands like an indestructible gate between you and the women inside who scream upon seeing you. The destructive sound of gunshots split the air and then it’s quiet again.

“Open it,” you demand, gesturing at the keypad. “I know Tarasov gave you the code.”

The priest lays on the floor, shivering, as beads of sweat cling to his brow. Though his lips are trembling from both pain and terror, he still musters up a half-hearted glare.

“But not you,” he hisses in Russian, knowing and accusatory. “Viggo must have always known that you will try to betray him.”

You chuckle, and lean closer, patting him on the shoulder with a patronising smile. This, too, is a familiar motion. The priest cringes back and you see the naked fear in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you admit coolly with a faint hum as you glance towards the trembling women inside the vault. “Guess I’m just done playing nice. Open it, or I’m going spill your guts all over this shiny, reflective floor that Tarasov gets you to scrub every night.”

The priest shudders, staring at you in dismay, but still moves to do as you told him. Ignoring John’s burning, silent stare you wait for the code to be input.

John enters the moment the beep sounds and you stay silent as he dismisses the women inside—ever the gentleman—and starts tearing the vault apart. You watch him do so, and it gives you a wicked surge of satisfaction, knowing just how much this all means to Tarasov. A lot of it is your own work; different blackmail that you have painstakingly collected for him over the years. Despite that knowledge, it doesn’t upset you to see it go up in smoke.

The flame rages, angry and hot, and you linger for a moment, observing years of servitude disappearing in front of your eyes. It makes you feel strangely empty, almost numb.

You’re dead to the world, Kishi’s voice reminds you and you feel your eyes lower to the floor.

John doesn’t try to ask you questions while you wait for Tarasov’s arrival and you’re grateful for it. Right now, you don’t think you’re capable of any kindness. Right now, you think you would tell him everything, and if there’s anything of his heart still left, it would simply break all over again.

With the priest alive, the news reaches Tarasov quickly, and his familiar black SUV pulls into the churchyard only ten minutes later. The priest, predictably, doesn’t survive past telling his side of the story in choked, weak stutters.

“Let’s finish this,” John tells you calmly, deadly so, but your gaze lingers on Tarasov who is like a caged animal moving with clear fury in his every step. “After today we’re both free.”

Your head snaps in his direction but he’s already walking away and you peer at his back for a moment.

Free.

Shooting one last glance towards that churchyard, you follow after him.

Coming to a stop beside him, you both wait, silent and focused as you hear Tarasov and his party approaching. John looks up at you, serious as always, and you simply peer at him for a moment. All this time, hoping that he will be back and he finally is. He’s a step away, a hand reach away but—

John opens fire first. He always believed in best defence being a strong offence and the guards scatter, replying in kind with their own weapons drawn. Exhaling slowly, you steel yourself for what’s about to happen, and round the corner, opening fire yourself.

As always, you work as a seamless machine. With John at your back, there are no blind spots, no ways to get caught off guard. You cover each other perfectly, a well-oiled death machine that churns out bodies left and right.

John reloads, and you cover him. You duck to do the same a moment later, and John takes your place, covering you with his back to you. Your eyes flicker over him and towards the car behind which Tarasov is hiding. From this far, you can just barely make out his hat as he rises to peek at the situation.

You rise to your feet smoothly and slam the back of your gun against John’s head.

The bullets cut out immediately and John staggers, turning around hurriedly, but you spray fine mist—one of your fastest, most viciously effective formulas—in his face, kicking at his shins for good measure.

He stumbles to the ground, looking up at you wildly, gasping, “(Name)—”

His stare is lost, frantic. Almost like what he’s seeing and what has just happened are two things not connecting just yet, leaving blind confusion in their wake.

“I told you,” you remind him gently, coldly, as you approach him. “I’m doing this for me.”

You don’t wait for the paralyser to kick in.

Your gun slams against his temple one last time and he drops to the side, unconscious.

The churchyard is once again peacefully tranquil.

. . .

an: *shocked Pikachu. jpg*

I feel like the first half of the chapter was Team John going “Yay!” and Team Santino going “Boo!” and then by the end that switched lol. 

Loved it? Hated it? Any predictions? Let me know and, as always, I love you all. I’ve had a rough week but all your COA messages just brighten my day guys ;-; thank you so much!!!!

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fic #santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio #keanu reeves #riccardo scamarcio #winston #fic: children of ares

[berjhawn]

In My Head - Ch 14 - Letting You Go

Warnings: arguing; fluff, Angst 

Pairings: Geralt X Reader x Bucky ; Bucky X Reader x Geralt ; Geralt x Reader ; Bucky X Reader

Summary: Girl dreams about boy, girl meets boy, chaos ensues.

A/N: We are getting closer to the end ladies and gents, please let me know what you think by liking, reblogging, and leaving me an ask in my ask box. love you all and i hope i don’t hurt you all too much. Also i didn’t have my proofreader for this one so if there are spelling or grammar mistakes i apologize. 

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

I awoke the next morning with Geralt’s arm wrapped possessively around my waist. I smile to myself as I think about how many times we rolled around this bed. Side note, I would have to send them back home to be clean. There was no telling how dirty they actually were. As I go to roll over to look at him the soreness sets into my body, reminding me of the downside to having sex repeatedly.

Feeling me stir in his arms, Geralt lets out a hum as he tightens his grip around my waist pulling me into him.

“Good morning,” I whisper as I roll over to face him completely.

“Good morning,” he replies without opening his eyes, his voice low and seductive.

“At least, I think it’s morning; but who knows.” I joke making him chuckle.

“How do you feel?” He asks as his amber eyes flutter open.

“A little sore, but I’ll survive.” I answer reaching forward to gently touch his cheek.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks his eyes filling with worry.

“No, it’s a good kind of sore.” I reply quickly causing relief to fill his eyes.

As if to reassure him I let my hand trail down his chest causing him to cock and eyebrow at me. As I find his member, I lace my fingers around it causing him to let out a hungry growl.

“(Name)…” He warns only spurring me on.

“What?” I ask playing clueless.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish it?” I inquire as I slowly start to pump my hand up and down.

“Dammit woman,” He growls as he rolls on top of my making a laugh escape my lips as I reach up to wrap my arms around him.

~

We spent what seemed like days in bed only leaving when we needed food or water. We had a lot of time to make up for. After that night when we first slept together, we no longer saw each other in our dreams. That was unless we wanted too.The days we spent together were magical.

I recalled one morning when I woke to find the spot where Geralt had slept empty. Naturally, I panicked and went in search of him. My heart warmed at the sight of him in the courtyard with Ciri practicing sword fighting. Seeing the two of them together was like a dream. Ciri bonded with him just like she had with me. i was surprised that she seemed to like Geralt more than her own father. 

Seeing Geralt roughhouse with Ciri made my head fill with thoughts of what could have been had Geralt not been sterile. Would we have had a family? Would Geralt have even wanted one? I didn’t even know If I wanted one. It definitely wouldn’t have been a normal one but then again neither is this one.

I started to wonder if I could die of happiness. I didn’t want it too end; but all good things come to an end.

“Geralt, don’t go.” I beg as I stand next to him as he prepared his saddlebags.

“I’m a Witcher, (Name), I have a job to do.” He replies tossing the bags onto Roach’s back.

“Well, then let me come with you.” I inquire making his eyes snap to mine.

“No! it’s much to dangerous out there. Plus, Ciri needs you here.” He counters making me grit my teeth.

“She needs you too. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way the two of you have bonded over the last few days.”

“I have a job to do.” He repeats and I roll my eyes.

“God dammit Geralt, you’re not some soldier who has no other choice than to go into battle. You have a choice.” I argue my anger getting the better of me.

“And my choice is to not watch you die in front of me at the hands of some monster!” He shouts his jaw clenching tightly. “(Name), if I don’t do my job, many people could die.”

“I know,” I relinquish as my shoulders droop. Gripping tightly to my arms i continue, “When will you come back?”

“I’m not sure. I won’t make any promises I cannot keep.” He answers reaching out to gently touch my cheek.

“Promise me anyway. Give me some hope.” I pause as i reach up to touch his hand. “Please.” 

He pauses as his fingers intertwine with mine. Furrowing his brow he lets out a heavy sigh. 

“I promise to return to you. I don’t know when, but I will try.” 

I nod slightly as i let our hands fall to our sides. 

“What do I tell Ciri?”

As if she sensed my upset, I see her standing a few feet away staring daggers at Geralt. Geralt follows my eyes to see Ciri and he lets out a heavy sigh. He motions for her to come over and I swear I could see the anger radiating off her tiny shoulders.

“Where are you going?” She asks as Geralt kneels down to her level.

“I have work to do.”

“And why aren’t we going with you?” Ciri demands making me smirk at her straightforwardness.

“This life I lead, the roads I travel, are no place for a child; and I do not wish for either you or (Name) to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself, you and (Name) have taught me.”

“Ciri, darling,” I start walking over to kneel beside Geralt my eyes focused oh her emerald orbs. “Even if it was safe, I’m sure Geralt would never wish to take you from your mother and father. I am sure Pavetta would be absolutely heartbroken if you left her side. Do you want to wish that upon her?”

“No,” Ciri replies sadness filling her eyes.

“Geralt will return to us, of that I have no doubt.” I tell her as I offer her a hopeful smile.

“Those linked by destiny, will always find each other.” Geralt adds and I nod. He offers her a soft smile before he stands back up and gently patting her head turns and walks back over to Roach. Standing up I follow after him and before he has a chance to climb up onto Roach, I grab his arm and stop him. “(Name), I have to go.”

“I know,” I reply gripping tightly to his arm my heart clenching tightly in my chest. “I know, just, hold me before you go.” I ask tears stinging my eyes.

Geralt’s arms wrap tightly around me causing a sigh of relief to leave my lips. I grip tightly to him, committing his scent to memory as I prepare myself for all the days that we would be apart. My eyes find his as he pulls away slightly to meet my gaze. He smiles softly as he leans forward claiming my lips with his in a deep and passionate kiss. My hands move up to grasp the back of his neck deepening or kiss as my tongue dances with his.

“That’s enough you too.” Jaskier interrupts making Geralt groan in annoyance as he pulls away from me. “Our little princess doesn’t need to see the two of you, all… well, you know.”

“Thanks, Jaskier, we got it.” I interject as I reluctantly pull away from Geralt and walk over to him. “Take care of him for me.”

“You have my word, my lady.” Jaskier replies reaching down and taking my hand pulls it up to meet his lips.

“Jaskier, if you wish to keep your hands and lips, I suggest you let hers go.” Geralt warns making me chuckle slightly at how quickly Jaskier dropped my hand.

I turn back to see that Geralt had mounted Roach and was looking back at us all. I move to wrap my arm around Ciri’s shoulders as I meet his gaze. He smirks slightly before he turns and with Jaskier following behind on his own horse, rides off into the horizon.

“Come along love, let’s head back in.” I call to Ciri as I push her toward the castle doors.

“How long do you think he’ll be gone?” She asks and I shake my head.

“I’m not sure, but it will be a while. Until then, we shall keep ourselves busy.”

As we walk into the throne room, I look up to see everyone deep in conversation. Pavetta’s brow was furrowed as she talks silently with her mother.

“Ciri, dear, why don’t you go find something to occupy yourself with.” I insist resulting in her giving me a nod before she bounds off. “What’s going on?” I ask as Pavetta walks over to me.

“Somethings come up, Duny and I must travel to Skellige. I want to leave Ciri here. Will you watch over her?” Pavetta asks and I nod.

“Of course,” I reply making a sigh of relief leave her lips. Something felt wrong, but I didn’t know what. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just a little anxious about the boat ride.” She replies glancing back at her family. “Where’s Ciri?”

“I sent her off to play,”

“Alright, can we talk some more before I leave?” Pavetta asks and I nod.

“Of course,” I reply giving her a reassuring smile.

“Shall we then?” She asks as she motions for us to leave the throne room talking and making plans for when she returned. Then when it came time for them to leave; Ciri, Calanthe, Natasha, and I waved them off with hopeful wishes. 

It wasn’t long after when we heard the news. 

I should never have let Pavetta leave.

Will Continue - 

#berjhawn writes #berjhawn #bucky x reader x geralt #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel au #marvel x reader x witcher #marvel x witcher #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader x bucky #geralt x reader #geralt fanfiction #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher au #the witcher #x reader insert #x reader #enhanced reader

[myulalie]

Malec & Bridgerton AU

Thank you for this challenging prompt anon, I had a lot of fun! Read on AO3 here, else here is what I came up with ♥ Hope you like it!

Days we shall not soon forget

The sun lays a gentle caress on Alec’s back, one he hopes will not leave an angry mark between his shoulder blades. The light leaves a delicious sheen on the expanse of smooth skin beneath him, like the most precious quartz, smoked to a gorgeous radiance Alec cannot grow tired of. Green and yellow grass cradles Magnus’ body and Alec’s as he lowers his head and swallows around his lover’s length.

He runs his fingers over Magnus’ abdomen, flat and mellow, nothing like Alec’s, Magnus is warm beneath his hands, his shirt hanging from his chest like slowly melting snow in the field of dried grass. Magnus arches his back, pushing his hips up to press his erection deeper in Alec’s mouth, and gives a breathy moan when Alec bobs his head obediently.

The rustle of leaves above them reminds Alec of the passing of time, and he glances at the clock ticking in the grass next to them, a silver pocket watch that ticks too close to the time of the social gathering. Alec will be late. He can feel Magnus writhing beneath him, spread under the oak tree, both of them half naked from fooling around in the field and laughing.

“Alexander. One day I shall seize that watch and take it apart bit by bit,” Magnus pants above him.

“That belonged to my father,” Alec breathes out, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ hip, “should it disappear, I would miss it sadly.”

“Then you shall know precisely how I feel every time you disappear.”

Alec snatches the hand crawling up his sideburns and to his dark hair before Magnus can mess up his already unruly curls, and kisses the bright stains of red and blue and green paint, a blend of yellow and orange on the edge of the artist’s knuckles. Sunlight flashes off his rusty rings, and Alec shifts uncomfortably in the grass, willing his own erection to disappear. There is no time left for him.

“Stay with me today,” Magnus pleads.

“I’m afraid I cannot, my sister must be chaperoned at the Morgenstern ball this evening.”

Magnus throws his head back when Alec laps at his length, and falls silent as Alec swallows down around him again. Alec lets go of Magnus’ hands to brush the artist’s thighs and slide up to the sensitive skin beneath, and Magnus comes with a muffled cry when his length hits the back of Alec’s throat.

Alec swallows, letting go reluctantly, and kisses Magnus’ stomach, making his way up to nip at the exposed throat, throbbing with the breath Magnus has yet to catch. He covers Magnus’ body with his when they kiss, and tangles his hands in the artist’s charcoal hair, too long for the current fashion in the aristocracy. It suits Magnus’ strikingly handsome features though, with his slanted eyes and sharp cheekbones, the glow of his eyes like black tea.

“What might be like, these grand affairs you must attend?” Magnus sighs, wrapping his arms around Alec’s shoulders.

“You would hate them,” he chuckles, and feels the familiar, throbbing sting on his shoulder blades. Alec blames his pale complexion for the sunburns, “Every eligible lady of breeding dressed in some lavishly trimmed frock, bloodthirsty mamas at their sides and wary fathers making arrangements for only the most advantageous of matches. And of course, without my father here, that responsibility falls upon me.”

“A significant duty, no doubt,” Magnus agrees with a stifled laugh, nodding wisely.

“Someone must guard my poor sister from the bucks and pinks, ensure her virtue remains free of any kind of defilement.”

“Isabelle, yes?” the artist interrupts, arching his eyebrows, “She is fortunate, although I doubt a woman of her stature is in need of such gallant protection.”

“Isabelle is a lady,” Alec shrugs and sits up, grabbing the pocket watch.

“Of course, my lord.”

Magnus gathers his shirt around him, though he does not quite button it up and adjusts his pants on his waist with a sigh. He avoids Alec’s eyes, no doubt in an attempt not to overstep, Alec knows that Magnus doesn’t care much for the intricacies of high society, and the artist would probably be in jail if it weren’t for his protectors, ladies and gents alike, and their influence. There are twigs in Magnus’ hair and on his shoulders, so Alec reaches to brush them off, and ducks his head in order to meet the artist’s eyes.

“Magnus,” he starts, but it goes unanswered, “angel, you have me, protecting you. I will always protect you.”

Finally, the artist peers at him, and Alec leans in to steal a kiss, savoring the wet slide of their lips and the taste that is distinctively Magnus. The wind sends a handful of leaves swirling down, and the clock is ticking in Alec’s hand, so they part reluctantly. Alec’s horse awaits him, attached to a nearby tree, and he winces as he buttons his shirt, the fabric suddenly rough against his abused back.

“Have you worked on that oil painting of my family joining the Queen for dinner like I requested?” Alec asks as he unties the reins.

“Of course my lord,” Magnus lies smoothly, his lips tilting up at one corner.

“Be sure you have something ready for me when I visit.”

Magnus gives a mock military salute as Alec gets on the horse, and the artist saunters through the field, back to the apartment Alec pays for on the other side of town. The lord cannot help but spur his horse on until they catch up with the artist, and offers Magnus his hand.

“May I show you to the main road, at least?”

The artist gives Alec’s horse a wary look. A beautiful animal, with a black coloring, lustrous, that flows over powerful limbs and a muscular body. Magnus is not around horses as much as Alec, of course, and to commoners, horses are more likely to trample them than carry them around. Yet, Magnus trusts Alec, and takes hold of the lord’s offered hand so Alec helps him up, and gives Magnus a second to settle behind him before spurring the horse on once again.

Magnus holds on tightly to Alec’s waist, plastered to the lord’s back, and Alec winces at the pain from his sunburn coming back with a vengeance. He cherishes the proximity though, the smell of sandalwood that surrounds him every time he holds Magnus close. Alec loves Isabelle dearly, and he would never leave her alone at the Morgenstern ball, but he wishes he did not have to leave Magnus alone either.

They send dust flying as they come up to the main road, and the horse slows down to a stop in the shade of a nearby plane tree, snorting. Magnus doesn’t relax straight away, still holding onto Alec, and it takes a little nudging before the tight embrace loosens enough for the lord to glance over his shoulder.

“Will you be alright, angel?”

“Yes,” Magnus shakes his head, strands of dark hair falling over his eyes, “thank you, my lord.”

Magnus tightens his hold on Alec’s waist again as he flings his leg over the horse and slides down to the ground, before looking up to Alec. Long eyelashes throw dancing shadows on his cheek, and Alec wishes he could kiss them, alas the clock is ticking inside his breast pocket. He nods once, and Magnus steps back, off to the side and out of the way of a fancy carriage.

Alec scowls at the carriage, and races it to the Morgenstern’s townhouse. A beautiful building, covered in anemone flowers, and when Alec dismounts swiftly the sound of his heels hitting the cobblestone echoes in the yard. The Lightwood’s carriage comes round just as he leaves his horse with a groom, and Alec bows deeply as Lady Maryse steps out of the white and gold flame work on the carriage.

“Mother.”

“Alec!” Isabelle interrupts before Maryse can scold him.

She hurries out of the carriage as well and Alec barely has time to offer his hand to her as she steps onto the cobblestones in a white frock, the white fabric luxurious and immaculate. Her hair curls beautifully over her shoulders, leaving her face and doe eyes on display as Maryse tied the long strands of dark hair back on Isabelle’s head with a brand new silk ribbon.

“You came,” Isabelle goes on, grinning.

“I could not possibly leave you to fend for yourself here,” Alec replies.

“Yet, you are late,” Maryse scowls.

She wears a frock and a dark blue Spencer, her hair, dark like her children, up in a tight bun, and Alec ignores his mother to escort Isabelle inside. His sister looks very proper, nothing like the girl Alec knows, he used to tug on her pigtails and shove dirt in her hair, but she’d knock him out with a single punch if he tried now.

The Morgenstern town house is dimly lit for the ball, and Alec leads Isabelle across the polished wooden floors as around them, young women offer to show their suitors watercolors, and their mothers add a little something about pianoforte and flowers. Alec moves past them without a glance, holding Isabelle’s arm firmly when she makes a grab a drink.

“You are not allowed near this table,” Alec whispers, and she huffs.

“He is rather pleasing,” Isabelle comments as they move past a man carrying a monocle.

“He is rather here to shuffle about hunting fortunes. Trust Mr Lewis knows of your sizable dowry, leave him be,” Alec dismisses.

“I presume you know him too?” Isabelle goes on as though Alec has not spoken, pointing at a blond man.

“Mr Blackthorn, second son,” Maryse replies, scowling at Julian Blackthorn, “we shall find better.”

The Carstairs girl will probably end up with Julian, and Alec agrees with his mother. He has no intention of leaving Isabelle with the oldest Blackthorn either, Mark is a cheat, a man of any honor ensures his debts are fully paid, but Mark left an unpaid balance on the gentlemen club’s betting books last winter.

They veer out of the way of the Morgenstern children, Jonathan and Clarissa, they look nothing alike, him with a head of golden hair and stark features, her with a mane of red hair and freckles. She cleaned up well, Alec notices distractedly when Isabelle makes to pause and introduce herself, but he keeps walking, Maryse following. She pushes Isabelle forward.

“He is of dubious parentage,” she whispers in her children’s ears.

Alec has heard the rumors that Valentine frolicked with his domestic, who looks strikingly like Clary, when his spouse revealed unable to bear children. Alec himself is wary of Jonathan, whom a few ladies have been caught with, unchaperoned.

“I shall not have you making a life with a poet, heaven forbid,” Alec mutters to himself.

“Nor an eccentric,” Maryse adds.

Isabelle rolls her eyes and they chastise her for the unladylike behavior, when a polite cough attracts the Lightwoods’ attention, and Alec comes face to face with Lady Morgenstern. She is sickeningly pale in a silver gown, her beady eyes are dead black, cold and empty and her hair looks like a nest of snakes, yet they all bow respectfully to their host.

“Good evening, Lady Lightwood, Miss Lightwood,” she pauses disdainfully, “Lord Lightwood.”

“I believe you have already been introduced to my daughter Isabelle,” Maryse replies evenly.

“Indeed. You look rather,” another pause, “lovely this evening. Is there a reason I have yet to see you on the dance floor?”

“All in good time, Lady Morgenstern,” Alec cuts in smoothly.

“Allow them to come to you,” Maryse comments offhandedly as their host leaves them be.

The rustle of fabric is overwhelming for Alec, and he hides a wince when someone slaps his back, right over the sunburn. The strong palm belongs to a familiar individual, with fair blond hair and bright eyes, the man is shorter than Alec, clad in white and gold like a knight in the old legends.

“Alec!” the blond exclaims, beaming.

“Jace!” Alec replies excitedly, momentarily letting go of his sister.

“Come here, old friend,” Jace exclaims again, slapping Alec’s back one more time.

Alec conceals his wince of pain and slaps Jace right back, over the head with the size difference, which sends Jace’s blond streaks of hair flying and some people give them odd looks, displeased with their behavior, Alec’s mother among them.

“I heard news of your father, you are no longer a Wayland nor a Morgenstern,” Alec says, lowering his voice.

“Herondale, Prince Herondale, can you believe it?”

Jace smiles again, and his joy is infectious. Raised in the Morgenstern manor, among the grooms and servants of his late, adoptive father the humble Sir Wayland, many believed Jace to be another son of Valentine as he grew up pale and fair like Lord Morgenstern, until he was revealed to be the grandson of the Queen, Imogen Herondale herself.

“Right,” Alec smiles until his cheeks hurt, “have you met my sister? Isabelle, Jace and I know each other from our days at Oxford.”

“Days we shall not soon forget!” Jace adds.

“Yes, I am well aware of the company you keep, son,” Maryse interrupts, and makes to shoo Jace away.

“I am certain your days with His Royal Highness were most civilized, indeed,” Isabelle chimes in.

The blond grins at Izzy, ignoring Maryse, as he very well can, and Alec admires his mother and her social standing for doing such a thing, as Maryse is not only inferior to Jace, but also a widow. He misses Lord Starkweather approaching them as Isabelle steps aside to fetch a glass of lemonade, and by the time Alec notices, it is too late, especially when Maryse who has laid a warning hand on his arm, holds him back.

“Good evening,” the older man greets Izzy, “small glasses.”

“Lord Starkweather,” Isabelle replies and Alec turns around at the tension of her voice.

Jace slaps Alec on the back one last time before bidding him goodbye, and Alec takes the opportunity to move away from his mother, ready to fly to his sister’s rescue. The lord is a small man with a beaky nose that appears even more prominent because of the scar that runs down his face, Starkweather is a close friend to Maryse, and both her children have met him several times growing up.

“Tiny little things, are they not?” Hodge insists.

“The glasses? I suppose,” Isabelle agrees.

“Then the matter is settled.”

“I’m not entirely sure the matter in which we discuss, my lord,” she deflects smoothly.

Alec praises his sister internally, Isabelle is clever, and she can handle herself, but he’s seething. The nerve of this man! He hates the smile on Hodge’s face, and in the dim light of the reception room, Hodge looks even more predatory.

“You’ve always amused me, Miss Lightwood. Ever since I was a schoolboy and you were...”

“All but five?” Isabelle replies innocently. This is the last straw, Alec steps forward, and Isabelle scurries away from Lord Starkweather, “My brother, he summons me!”

Isabelle flings herself at Alec’s arm and he leads her towards the exit in spite of their mother’s protests, the most perfect thing would be to let Isabelle dance, leave her suitors all wanting more after holding her in their arms, but Alec has not intention to marry Isabelle off to one of them, and his sister would step on their feet anyway.

They leave the Morgenstern townhouse behind and Alec helps Maryse climb into the Lightwood carriage, the yard is empty except for them, music playing in the house still, and echoing against the cobblestones. Isabelle hides behind his back when Maryse glances at them, fiddling with her brother’s shirt.

“May I ride back with Alec?”

Maryse sighs and waves them off as a groom brings Alec’s black horse forth. He goes first, and helps Isabelle climb up as well, they can afford a new frock, and her laugh when he spurs the horse on is worth Maryse’s disapproving gaze as they race the carriage back to the Lightwood townhouse. The wind rushes past them, tangling Isabelle’s hair as it comes undone, and above them, the night sky is speckled with stars.

The Lightwood townhouse is alight with candles and Lydia, the governess, her hair pulled tight over her scalp with a silk ribbon that looks suspiciously like one of Isabelle’s, welcomes them at the door. She keeps Max, the boy is much younger than Alec and Isabelle, from running outside and ruining his night clothes, and their brother shrieks in delight at the sight of them dismounting.

“How was the ball? I cannot wait to go and court a lady!”

Alec smiles, ruffling his brother’s hair on the way inside, while a groom takes care of his horse, and the carriage Maryse just came out of. Max rushes past Isabelle and Lydia to throw himself at Maryse, and the matriarch freezes on the doorstep as the boy buries his face in her white and blue skirts.

“Mama! I want to marry Miss Madzie,” Max tells her, his high pitched voice muffled by the fabric.

Madzie is a distant cousin of Lady Loss — Catarina is a spinster and kind enough to take the girl under her wing— and Lady Loss’ ward is rather dowdy, in no way the potential prospect Maryse wishes for, but Alec will gladly arrange the marriage if Max so desires when he comes of age. Lady Loss is a dear friend of Magnus, and Alec himself cares for Madzie deeply.

Max emerges from his mother’s skirts, his dark hair at disarray, and Lydia holds her hand out to lead the boy back inside as Alec nods politely at the governess. He would trust her with his siblings’ lives, Lydia is a woman of duty and responsibility.

She is Isabelle’s confidant too, and ever since she became the Lightwoods’ domestic, she has done nothing but good in honor of her late fiancé’s memory. John tried and failed to save Robert Lightwood’s life when he went hunting, and a horse made a mad dash for survival upon facing a sounder, but the wild boars trampled both Lord Lightwood senior and his groom.

Alec sighs at the memory and offers Maryse his arm to lead her inside. Isabelle follows along, moving with ease among mahogany furniture covered in family heirloom, but as Alec makes his way towards his father’s study, Isabelle veers towards her bedroom instead. She cannot bear the sight of a red velvet and mahogany wooden chessboard, that brings forth memories of Robert, a loving father, but distant husband. Maryse and Robert had one single thing in common, their desire to spare Isabelle the misery of a loveless marriage.

“You were a reasonable mother until your daughter came of age,” Alec says, keeping his voice low, “this matchmaking scheme you rather transparently concocted, it will not work.”

Alec pats the silver watch in his breast pocket at the sight, and trails his fingers along the back of beloved books, their servants dust the shelves every so often, but it has been a long time since Maryse laid a hand on the precious collection. Even Max avoids the study, he who used to sit on the desk chair while Robert perused their family’s account books.

“I can think of worse matches for Isabelle than Lord Starkweather,” Maryse replies tightly, “we are good friends.”

“He will not make her happy!” Alec argues.

“Your father-”

“Do not bring Father into this.”

Maryse and Robert did not love each other, and Isabelle deserves better, this has always been the consensus among the family. The matriarch steps away from Alec, and turns her back on the bookshelves to pace the room instead, her skirts a flurry of white and blue around her, not unlike her silent fury.

“Do not make this any more difficult than it already is,” Alec adds, whispering.

“I wish to know something, Alec. Tonight, when you leave this study, are you to return to your bedroom, that you continue to keep at your family home, or will you pay a visit to a certain artist that you tend to, in an apartment that you pay for, on the other side of town?” when Alec denies his mother of an answer, Maryse stops pacing, “You like to speak of responsibility, my dear son, of duty, pray tell, what should we do about this?”

“I am in possession of something most are not, a brother,” Alec loses patience.

“So you’re merely an older brother, and not the man of this house?” Maryse cuts in, “Relying on your younger brother to one day do the job that you cannot-”

“Enough!”

Maryse startles and Alec storms out of the study, there is no use in arguing with his mother, she does not have the power to make decisions anyhow. Someone snuffed the lights in the withdrawing room, but Alec has grown in this house and makes his way to the stable without trouble, where he saddles his horse. They leave running, and disappear into the night.

The streets are busy in the evening, and the horses’ hooves echo on the cobblestone as Alec slows down to a stop in front of the apartment. He spies Lord Fell coming out of a carriage with soprano singers on both his arms, and Alec shakes his head to hide a smile. He is not the only bachelor in town, and Fell has been unattached for the longest time.

The front of the house is covered with Daphne flowers, shades of white and purple Alec can’t appreciate in the evening as he ducks inside. The rickety staircase whines beneath the soles of his feet and Alec smiles as he pushes the door open to reveal Magnus reading by candlelight, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Lady Loss and Lord Fell’s combined efforts to teach young Magnus how to read are a story Alec much prefers to listen to than Magnus’ occasional attempts to play some sort of instrument, which are the most unpleasant. The lord snort inelegantly at the thought, and Magnus finally takes notice of him, looking up.

The artist looks delightful in the glow of dancing flames, and Alec pauses to take him in, enjoy the shades that linger on Magnus’ cheeks and throat, the way his clothes, more comfortable than expensive, hang down his lithe frame, snug and inviting. Alec rubs at his sideburns, unable to conceal his smile. There is nowhere he would rather be.

“Alexander!” Magnus exclaims.

He tosses the book over his shoulder and Alec conceals a grimace, hoping this is not a priceless edition of the volume. There are half completed paintings stacked against a wall, and glass jars dangle from a peculiar garland above their heads. Alec peers at them with interest even as Magnus steps up to him.

“I hope the painting is ready,” the lord can’t help but say, knowing the commission is nowhere near complete.

“No, but I built something the Queen has never seen, or imagined!” Magnus pipes up.

The artist points at the garland, turning away from Alec for the briefest moment, but a grin obvious in his voice and Alec smiles, glancing at the glass jars too.

“What are these?”

Magnus brushes past him to move near his cluttered desk, rummaging to find a tinderbox to kindle a fire, and he brings a spark to the end of the garland. The fire crackles as it goes up, then flashes along the garland and suddenly all the jars light up like fireflies. Alec blinks slowly, surprised, and swivels around in wonder, staring at the garland like fireworks in the sky. The wooden floors sigh tiredly when Magnus steps closer, touching Alec’s waist, and the lord relaxes into the embrace, watching the display of lights above them.

“This is quite magical,” he breathes out.

The artist chuckles, kissing his cheek, rubbing his face against Alec’s sideburns with what sound suspiciously like a purr, and Alec turns slowly, bringing his hands up to cup Magnus’ face. They kiss in the amber glow of the fire trapped in glass jars, and Alec cannot believe, for one second, that he made the wrong choice.

This is all he needs.

#malec #shadowhunters #pearfectly fine to ask #regency romance #magnus bane #alec lightwood #autopromo #fanfiction

[rynhaswritersblock]

gross (hc) | p.p.

summary: chaotic mess in which you pull a Dumb Bitch Move and write a song for peter while relying on the hope that he never sees it

warnings: i've already cussed. that speaks for itself ALSO FLUFF THIS IS VERY CUTE IM PROUD OF IT

+ + +

- HEADCANON TIMEEEEEEEEEEEE

- yeahyeah!!

- you guys i cannot stop saying "yeahyeah" i do not know why i just... it's a part of me now

- i think i got it from bigballerclaire on tiktok LMAO

- ANYWAYS

- BY THE WAY THIS IMAGINE IS KINDA A REVERSE ONE OF "camera"

- speaking of, why the Fuck did i call that one "camera". that's the most boring name??? did i forget to change it before publishing????? i need to go change that name (so if you can't find an imagine called camera by the time you're reading this IT'S BECAUSE I CHANGED THE NAME LMAO)

- OKAY! LETSGETIT

- so it's late at night

- like midnight or something

- and ur in ur FEELS okay?

- (we all know that feeling when you've been reading fanfic for like hours and then it's one am and you finally look away from your screen and stare at the ceiling and you're like. holy fuck. and then your brain drifts and ur like I WANT PETER RN!!!!!!!!!)

- yeah that type of FEELS

- and guess who's a musical genius in this imagine?

- bitch it ain't me!

- it's YOU!

- YEAHYEAH!

- so you're like a hella songwriter

- think joshua bassett and olivia rodrigo on instagram iykyk

- keep an eye out (for selener.. jkjk) for olivia's song later in this imagine

- so OBVIOUSLY you're like::

- i need to get out my feelings

- i like writing songs

- ... 0_0

- To The Journal!

- so basically YOU WRITE A SONG

- ABOUT PETER

- BECAUSE HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND AND YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM AND CAN'T HANDLE ALL THE PENT UP EMOTION YOU'RE FEELING

- YEAH

- okay so i am stealing this song from olivia rodrigo because it deadass fits PERFECTLY

- this song goes SO HARD

- pro tip if you play guitar/uke the chords are on ultimate guitar it's VERY FUN TO PLAY

- anyways i most DEFINITELY recommend listening to this song while reading this because like...

- ??????????????

- yeah you get it

- i'm putting the lyrics in because i Feel Like It and it Adds To the Imagine

- i don't think i'm capable of writing a sentence without randomly capitalizing shit good god

- so HERE ARE THE LYRICS

Not long ago when I saw you there With your brown eyed grin and your messy hair And every girl at the party was looking at you I wonder what I'd say if I knew back then That the brown eyed boy'd be my best friend And the one I'd give my heart to (ooh, ooh, ooh) Now everything reminds me of you Your pictures framed all over my room And if I hate someone you'll hate them too As long as I'm your darling angel I don't need anything in the world 'Cause I feel like the luckiest every second that I'm your girl I wanna do everything with you Take the highs, I'll take the lows I'll keep you close Give you the most, oh baby I like you so much it's kinda gross Yeah, I like you so much it's kinda gross

- thank u genius.com da Real Plug

- so YEAH

- you've got those lyrics scribbled in ur notebook

- WHICH BTW

- this is one of those shitty cliches where she WritesSongs! and carries her journal with her everywhere because it's Special!

- and ur stupid cause ur like "im just writing this for myself! to get out my feelings! he will Never see this Haha!"

...

- so obviously

- you can see where this is going

- some SHIT about to go down

- you and peter are at the library doing homework because yeah(yeah)

- and you finish all your work so you just decide to get out your journal and start doodling bc.. like fuck it why not

- and then peter's stomach growls

- this bitch and his fucking Metabolism get the fuck out

- you look over at him and he just looks at you like 0_0

- IM LITERALLY LAUGHING AS I WRITE THIS RN WHY IS IT SO FUNNY TO ME

- you're like Fine Okay Bitch i'll Get You A Snack

- so you get ur wallet and peter already knows what you're doing because this aint the first time

"what do you want, pete"

"a snickers, please"

- he says it all innocently and like imsosorryigetobnoxiouslyhungryeverytimewehangoutipromiseillpayyouback

- cause he's BABIE

- is it babey or babie. i forget. oh well

- you nod and go to the vending machines to get his snickers (and one for you too because snickers go HARD damn i want one rn)

- MEANWHILE

- ha

- peter's trying not to focus on the fact that your journal is Lit Rally (literally) sitting Right There

- it's like bro relax i am literally just Vibing

- cause you keep that lil shit CLOSE TO UR HEART

- AINT NOBODY GONNA LOOK THROUGH YOUR JOURNAL

- until today

- yeah

- he keeps eyeing the front lobby doors by the vending machines

- and just slowly pulls the journal to him and starts quickly flipping through it like a madman

- gotta go FAST

- i'm about to pee my pants i crack myself up sometimes

- it's mainly just little doodles and random notes and thoughts and stuff

- peter sees a drawing of spiderman and Deadass goes "awe" OUT LOUD

- a few people look at him and his face gets all hot (Hot Hot! Hot Chocolate!)

- rt if you agree that the polar express has SUCH weird vibes

- that movie is a fever dream ANYWAYS

- and THEN

- ladies and gents this is the moment you've waited for

- (OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH stomp. stomp stomp. OHHHHHHHHHHH!)

- i need to rewatch the greatest showman OKAY

- PETER GETS TO THE PAGE WHERE YOU WROTE THE SONG ABOUT HIM

- HIS GODDAMN NAME IS LITERALLY AT THE TOP OF THIS PAGE THIS IS LITERALLY THE TITLE:

a song about peter because i'm fed up right now

(and then the lyrics right underneath ofc)

- moment of silence

- peter just stares at the page like 0_0

- but the inside of his head is like AHHHHHHHHHHFDNGDFKJGNEKLFNFDJBVDJHF

- then he gets all warm inside he's like holyshitholyshitholyshity/nlikesmetoofuckfuckfuckyeahyeah!

- and then he hears footsteps

- Oh No!

- he looks up and the look on your face is just

- 🅱eter what the Fuck are you doing

"you wrote a song about me?"

graphic design is my passion

- anyways you just stand there for a second before shaking your head

"nope"

"but it says my name right h-"

"different peter"

- peter squints at you like are you sure wait really and you sit down, sliding him his snickers

- you Refuse to look at him so you're just like Staring Off as you take a bite out of your snickers a bit too aggressively

- peter clears his throat and you finally look over

- the Second you meet his eyes you just BREAK and lean forward, burying your face into the crook of his neck with an awkward laugh

- peter lets out his Signature Boyish Laugh (the sound you hear when you enter heaven) and he wraps his arms around you

"it's not gross"

"what?"

"your song says, and i quote 'i like you so much it's kinda gross' and what i'm saying is that it's not gross"

"i hate you"

"but i was just about to tell you that i like you too!"

+ + +

cuties

i swear i either write an imagine in like two hours or a whole ass week there is no in between

anyways i want this to happen to me

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

[awhilesince]

Wednesday, 17 February 1830

7 35/60

12 3/4

at my desk in an hour   no motion but a little one on finishing breakfast before ten Reading Béclard – Breakfast at 9 1/4 – Fahrenheit 32° at 7 35/60 and at 9 3/4 a.m. Monsieur Julliart came at 10 1/4 and staid till 1 1/4 – no morceau this morning – read over some little passage which I did not thoroughly understand – did a little at my skeleton – conversation on diarrhoea constipation (costiveness) etc. etc. Got Cottard’s bill while Monsieur J– (Julliart) was here – immediately on his going got the card of “Mr Charles Stuart Grenadier Guards” who had called while Monsieur J– (Julliart) was here, and left me a note from Miss Hobart with a little print – rubbed – on cardcase – very nice note – at Wimpole by this time – 

Dressed – out at 1 55/60 – drove to the Poores’ – sent up my card – admitted – sat 20 minutes with Nora – Mr Wright’s card brought in while I was there – I said he thought himself unfortunate in never being admitted – Lady P– (Poore) so unwell nobody had been admitted – I the only one admitted today – Lady P– (Poore) had not made her appearance – It appears Mr W– (Wright) had the bad taste to call Miss Poore Nora – had met her out walking and done so – saw her at the ball on Monday and then accosted her – she could not stop in such a crowd to speak to him – I see, he will go back to Croft and chime in with IN (Isabella Norcliffe) – as to the “price of asses” – promised to take Miss P– (Poore) to the oratoire some Sunday after – and to take her out some morning – then called at the Embassy admitted – Lady S– (Stuart) de R– (Rothesay) busy reading a heap of newspapers – Mrs Hamilton there – Messieurs Henry and Charles Stuart Scarlet, Ashburnham? Lord Pollington – Mr H– (Henry Stuart) writing invitations – nobody seeming as if visitors were to have been admitted but my name had probably been announced – went up to Mr Charles Stuart and shook hands with him reminding him of one meeting at Colonel Thackeray’s and claiming him as an old acquaintance – shook hands too with Mrs Hamilton – Lady S– (Stuart) and Miss Hobart gone to Wimpole for a fortnight – said I was too ill to go to the ball on Monday – Lady S (Stuart) shook hands with me as usual on entering but was sso busy reading papers had no time to take much notice of me   in fact I was ssorry for myself then asked her for the globe read or looked it over and in ten minutes came away    felt small and as if nobody wanted me    perhaps I was wrong for on coming away she came with me to the door talked of our ball and was very civil   it may be she feels to know me too well now to be ceremonious to break off total not to me but I when not evidently made much off always fancy something disagreeable  have not confidence en ough in myself   today knew not whether I had done right or not in shaking hands with Mr Charles Sstuart did it as usual with Mr Henrys  then I thought of my foolish headdress at the dinner last Friday and thus I ma de myself uncomfortable   Lady S– (Stuart de R– Rothsay) mentioned “our ball” for the benefit of the poor English – said we could not count upon any French except a few gents (gentlemen) coming – might have 500 English – She herself should give a ball mi-carême – Told her about Madame de Hagemann’s having desired me to write and send my letter to the care of Lord Stuart – she said they had very seldom opportunities of sending; and it seemed altogether that I had better, as they agreed, sent my letter per poste –

then drove to the De Noés – sat 10 minutes with Madame de N– (Noé) It seems Mr Lindley dined there on Sunday who asked if they knew me – said I was a charming person etc etc had sat 2 hours with me – knew me very well – Miss Head and Miss Daniel were there on my going in but went away immediately – took Miss de N– (Noé) to the bois de B– (Boulogne) drove my usual walk – got out and walked between Boulogne and Auteuil – Talked somehow or other of companionship – my wish to have some French friend with me – impossibility of being able to make French friends etc. at last she said I might marry   this led onto my saying that was not what I wanted or what would suit me saying I had especial reasons against that without at all hinting at what but said the sort of friendship I wanted was a sort of marriage in a little way   I could be contented with any who would manage my house and make it agreeable  should never interfere with her in shes there could be no rivality or jealousy between   that did not enter into my character   she said if ever she knew anyone likely to suit me she would think of me agreed that she should introduce me to any French lady she thought I should like – for the first time in my life felt towards her as light consciousness of her being a woman  thought I she cannot walk  I must not amuse myself by flirting with her – 

Set down Miss de N– (Noé) at her own door – then called at the Tailor’s – the cloth cut up – too late to choose it darker – Treütel and Wurtz all at direct – could do nothing about Miss Pickford’s book – got the buttons en passant at Maurisset’s – home at 6 10/60 – dinner at 7 – read the whole of the paper and supplement (duke of Wellington’s speech etc aloud to my aunt) and came to my room at 8 50/60 – wrote the whole of today but the first 6 lines – coffee at 9 35/60 – came to my room at 10 1/4 – from then to 11 40/60 read from page 254 to 376 volume 2 Captain Hall’s America – very fine day – Fahrenheit 32° at 7 35/60 and 35° at 11 3/4 p.m.

(SH:7/ML/E/12/0166)

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #paris #1830 #paris february 1830

[katlyn1948]

An Unexpected Journey: Part 8

The vast amounts of wine that Arya had consumed was beginning to take effect. In all her years, she’s never had more than two goblets. She’s never really like the feeling that the wine would make one feel. She wanted to keep her wits about her; keep her mind focus for anything that may be thrown her way. Even on her travels west, she never drank more than what she felt comfortable with. She had a crew to keep and maintain. If she wasn’t at her top performance, she could have endangered everyone on her ship.

Tonight was a different story. Between the judging crowd and the looks from the high Lords and Ladies of the Stormlands, Arya threw caution right over her shoulder. She was four goblets in and pouring her fifth after that encounter with Lady Jeyne Swann. She hadn’t been this relaxed for a long time and it was an invigorating feeling. She was chatting and laughing and truly did not care what the people of the Stomrlands were saying about her.

Lady Rena was even enjoying herself. She did not have to worry about her children for a night and it was liberating. She loved her children, Gods knew that, but being a mother, wife, and a new lady was beginning to take a toll on the young woman. Having one night to enjoy the company around her was an escaping feeling. And making a new friend was a nice perk.

Arya was observing the young lady. She reminded her of her sister, Sansa. The auburn hair, the blue eyes, even the way she held herself as a woman. It was a comfort to Arya, for she never really had friends before; at least not friends that were women.

“So Lady Rena, when will you be leaving tonight? It is getting late and the roads are no safe place, even if your keep is a short rides away from here.” Arya asked her.

Rena’s gaze tore from that of her husbands and landed on Arya. Truth be told, she had not heard a single word Arya had said. She was preoccupied ogling her husband from the other side of the high table.

“I do apologize, but I seemed to not have heard you. What was it you wanted.” Rena asked her. Her eyes going back and forth between Arya and her husband.

Arya noticed Rena’s averting gaze and smiled. “I have a feeling you and your husband will be staying here at Storm’s End tonight.”

Rena waved her hand dismissively, “Nonsense. Beside Ser Davos did not tell the maids to set up rooms for us.”

“I’m sure Lord Baratheon can acquire some rooms for you and your family, Lady Rena.” Arya reassured her.

Rena nodded; a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

“There is no need to be embarrassed. He’s your husband. If you want to bed him, then bed him.” Arya told her as she took yet another sip from her goblet.

Rena’s cheeks grew an even darker shade of crimson. “I cannot bed my husband here! Not with the Lord Paramount under the same roof.”

Arya shrugged, “I’m sure what Gendry doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Rena looked passed Arya and noticed that Gendry’s seat was empty.

“Where is the Lord? I did not noticed he left.” She asked Arya.

“Aye, he went to check on Lyra and Ginger. It is late, so they are more than not, sleeping. I do have to ask, where is your son?” Arya asked.

“He’s back at home at our keep with my brother. They rode before supper. He was getting fussy and my brother offered to look after the babe.” She gave a small chuckle “Gods bless him. He had expected that we would not return home tonight.”

“And he is capable of caring for the babe?” Arya asked.

Rena nodded, “Aye. Sometimes I think he can care for the babe better than I can. He has always loved the children. Preferred their company over gents and lasses here at the castle.”

Arya tore a piece of bread and stuffed in her mouth, “He works in the stables? The new stables master, am I right? After your father passed away?”

Rena raised her eyebrows, surprise covered her face, “You know more than you let on.”

Arya smiled, “Gendry and I talked for a bit before supper. He may have said a few things.”

“Well yes, he is the new stables master, but he does not want to be. Our father taught us everything and after he passed, naturally it went to my brother.” Rena’s face fell.

Arya could tell that Rena was disappointed. “And you wanted to be the new stables master.”

Rena nodded her head. She wanted to be stables master more than anything, even more than being a lady, but it was deemed not proper. Her father had taught her and her brother everything he knew, but it was Rena who applied his teachings. She was the one that knew how to care for the animals while her brother just sat and watched.

“Every time we come to the castle, I make sure to check on the bloody beasts. I check their shoes and change their feed. I even brush them. My brother does none of that. If it weren’t for me, the Lord would not have any horses.”

“Well, just ask Gendry that you want to be the knew stables master.” Arya said as if it was truly no problem.

Rena gave a curt laugh, “I cannot just ask the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands to make me his new stables master. Things may have changed since you’ve been gone, Lady Arya. But some things remain the same.”

Arya reaches for Rena. She placed a small hand onto of hers, “You leave Gendry to me. You’ll be the new stables master yet. Now, go and bed your husband.”

Rena lets out a laugh, “The last time I bedded my husband at a celebration like this, I ended up with his babe in my belly.” Rena looked over to her husband once more. She got up from her seat beside Arya and made her way to her husband.

Arya saw the couple depart the depleting crowd. Most everyone had left to sleep off the wine in their bellies or to fuck the seven hells out of their lovers. The only ones that remained were the few that were too drunk to move or too tired to care.

Arya herself was ready to leave the great hall and find a soft bed to lay her head, for the wine had truly taken its toll. She was lifting from her seat when she realized the great hall was swimming. Her balance was off and she gripped the table for support, but it wasn’t enough. Before she realized, she was toppling over her chair. But before she slammed back into her chair a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind.

“Too much wine?” His soft voice tickled her ear.

She turned in his grasp to face him. “Just a bit.”

“How about we get you to bed? Come, the maids have set up a room for you.” He grasped her waist and lead her from the great hall.

“Where are you taking me?” She asks as the walk the corridors of the castle.

Gendry chuckles, “I am taking you to your room so you can sleep off the wine.”

Arya abruptly stopped. She turned to face Gendry and grabbed his hands.

“I don’t want to go to my room.”

Grendry’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “And where would you like to go? I am not taking you to the archery, you are far to drunk to shoot an arrow.”

Arya shakes her head, “You really are a stupid bull, you know that? No, Gendry, I want you to take me to your bed.”

Gendry’s eyes widen. He begins to protest when Arya crashes her lips to his. This time it was her turn to steal a kiss and perhaps more. He tasted of ale and smokiness and she deepened the kiss. She wanted to taste more of him. To devour every inch of him. She broke away from him, just for a moment to say one word. “Please.”

It was the confirmation that Gendry needed. He lifted her up and began walking towards his solar. He slammed her against his chamber door, fiddling with the latch. He couldn’t see where the bloody handle was, for he was too busy kissing the love of his life.

“Oh let me!” Arya gasped as she escaped his mouth to open the door.

They tumbled inside chuckling as they began to rip at each other’s clothes. Arya pulled her small clothes off while Gendry helped. It had been so long since she had been intimate with anyone, especially him.

Their first time had been due to the fact there was impending death beating at their back door. It was clumsy and painful, but still enjoyable. Since then she had been with one other man and woman, but neither could satisfy her the way Gendry had that night in the forge.

Gendry had only been with one woman after Arya. On a stupid drunken night in King’s Landing. It had been a moon since she had left for her voyage and Gendry was in a bad place. He hadn’t been back to Storm’s End and he just wanted to forget about everything that had happened in his life. After the incident he swore he would never lay with another woman again, and he didn’t, not even with his wife.

They explored each other’s bodies, basking in each other’s scent. It was familiar but also foreign, for it had been years since they touched each other.

Arya didn’t know where she ended and he began. It was like they were two parts of a missing puzzle that needed to be put back together. This is home, she thought. This is where I want to be.

*****

Arya was spent. They had ravaged each other’s bodies for what seemed like hours. The smell of sex and wine filled the air of the high lord’s bedroom. Arya was sticky with sweat, but she couldn’t bring herself to untangle her limbs from Gendry’s.

“So How was it?” She asked him after sometime.

Gendry looked down at her. She was nuzzled perfectly into him. “It was amazing. Truly! I haven’t felt anything in a long time and then you came back and all of those thoughts and emotions hit me so hard.” Arya nuzzled closer to him. “I just hate that I took advantage of a drunk woman.”

Arya lightly punched his shoulder, “You did not take advantage of me! If anything, I took advantage of you. I was the one who kissed you, remember?”

“Hmm, maybe I need a reminder.” He said to her as he drew her closer. He pressed his lips to her, taking her all in. They were getting entangled with one another once more when the handle of his bed chambers began to shake.

Arya pulled away, bringing the furs close to her body. “Who could that be? Lyra, perhaps.” She asked.

Gendry shook his head, “No, Lyra only comes to my chambers when the sun rises. That’s Jeyne Swann.” His voice was cold when he said her name.

Arya looked at him with questioning eyes. “And how would you know?”

Gendry gets off the bed, pulling on his trousers, “Because this is not the first time she’s tried to come to my chambers in the dead of night. Every time we have some sort of celebration, she tries to make her way in here, hoping for something. It’s a blessing by the Gods that I remember to lock the door.”

He makes his way towards the door, getting ready to open it when Arya stops him.

“Wait!” She climbs off his feather bed and makes her way towards the door, she doesn’t attempt to cover up. She unlatches the lock and pulls it open.

There standing in the archway was Jeyne Swann. Her face was pale; the only color coming from the blush of her cheeks.

“Good evening, Lady Jeyne, May I help you with something?” Arya asks. The cool breeze that came from the corridor behind Lady Jeyne made her nipples harden.

“I-I was not aware the lord had company.” Her words faltered, but she remained her composure.

“I am not company, Lady Jeyne. I am Arya Stark and Gendry Baratheon is my betrothed. If you ever try to come into our chambers again, I can promise you that will never be able to set foot in Storm’s End again. Do I make myself understood?” Arya’s voice was dripping with venom. She wasn’t the jealous type, but Jeyne Swann had pushed Arya a little to far.

Jeyne’s face grew with terror. She quickly shook her head, gave a curtsy and turned from the chamber door. Arya slammed the door behind her, turning to look at Gendry.

“I hope that’s alright. Me being your betrothed?” She placed a hand onto his bare chest.

Gendry took Arya’s face into his hands. “I love you. You know that?”

“Good, because I love you too.” She told him as she grabbed one of his hands and made their way back to the bed.

*****

Arya was sound asleep when she felt a small body climb on top of her. She opened her eyes to see a pair of brown ones look down at her.

Lyra was staring at Arya, glancing between her and Gendry.

Arya couldn’t tell what the 3 year old was thinking. She had remember that Gendry said Lyra liked to come into his chambers once the sun broke the horizon, so she didn’t latch the door. They had been mindful and had clothed before falling asleep, afraid that Lyra might find them in a precarious situation.

“Lyra, good morrow.” Arya whispered. Gendry was softly snoring at her side, she didn’t want to wake him.

“Good morrow. There is mud outside. Can we play?” She asked Arya.

A smile grew on Arya’s face. “Of course, but shhh, let us not wake your father.”

Lyra climbed off of Arya and went to sit at the table across the room. Arya lifted from the bed and pulled her jerkin on over her small clothes fastening the laces. She pulled on her boots and walked towards Lyra, reaching her hand out for her to grasp.

Lyra instantly took Arya’s hand and they made their way to the courtyard below.

#gendrya #arya stark #gendry waters #jonerys #got #gotspoilers #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #d&d #arya x gendry

[imaginedisish]

STEFAN X COLIN HEADCANON

A little birdie (an anon) asked me to write some head canons for Colin and Stefan….FINALLY!!! I need more STOLIN!!! 

Soooo while I’m writing some Stefan x Reader (heavily requested so far)...here’s a head canon for the beginning of Colin and Stefan’s relationship.

Warnings: MEGA CANON DIVERGENCE. Ladies and gents I REFUSE to write an unhappy or morbid headcanon. Not in my house…(unless requested of course, then I’d consider), implied sex…but no smut. Also, references to suicide and murder, and drug use. 

Word Count: 822

While Colin recognizes that reality is an allusion, and that there are an infinite amount of universes with an infinite amount of timelines, he knows that he would fall in love with Stefan in each and every one. 

Every time Stefan choses to jump off the balcony after they take LSD, Colin’s heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He kills himself afterwards, knowing that the timeline will just reset anyway. 

Every time Collin jumps, he cannot stand the idea of leaving Stefan behind. But, it isn’t his choice, so he does it anyway.

But, eventually, Colin grows sick and tired of the same old routine. 

Instead of jumping, Colin breaks script.

After an eternity of loops and infinite universes, he confesses how he feels to Stefan. 

“This is the timeline where we spend the rest of our lives together. Stefan, don’t you see it?” 

Stefan is taken back at first. He tries to say something…

“You’re crazy, what in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

But Colin shuts Stefan up by cupping his cheeks, and pulling Stefan’s face close to his own.

He closes the gap between them.

“Now I’ve set you, and myself free,” Colin whispers softly, and then pulls Stefan into a long, dramatic, passionate kiss. 

Stefan’s mind is instantly open, and kisses Colin back almost immediately. 

Stefan pulls away, leaving Colin to think that Stefan didn’t like the kiss. 

“Right path,” Stefan says with a wide smile plastered on his face, becoming more self-aware by the minute.

“Right path, indeed,” Colin says back, smirking. 

They spend the night together, but they just talk on Colin’s bed. They talk about things they remember from past timelines. 

Stefan apologizes for killing Colin so many times. 

Stefan explains to Colin that in every timeline where Colin dies, Stefan wishes it was him. 

Colin shakes his head, explaining that he rather be dead than live without Stefan. 

Stefan eventually falls asleep in Colin’s arms, his head pressed against Colin’s chest. 

Colin finally feels at peace as he plays with Stefan’s hair, and drifts into a deep sleep as well.

The next morning, Stefan is still in Colin’s arms.

Colin is still holding Stefan.

They smile lovingly at each other, realizing that they finally broke the infinite, evil loop that kept them apart. 

Over the next few weeks, they work together on Bandersnatch, visit the record store, listen to The Cure, Culture Club, New Order, Joy Division, David Bowie and The Beatles and just hang out.

(Oh um they both totally love Star Wars)

Stefan is the first to say “I Love You”

Colin disbelieves it, and says something along the lines of “Stefan you must be high.”

Stefan looks at Colin intensely, and says…

“After living through thousands of timelines and infinite loops, I think I know how I feel,” (Stefan is definitely mad at Colin ngl.)

Colin shakes his head saying, “Well this isn’t fair…I wanted to say it first.” He smirks at Stefan, arching a brow.

Stefan is PERPLEXED by this. He stares of Colin, confused. That’s when Colin hits Stefan with the following:

“I’ve loved you since the first time we ever encountered each other, in the first timeline that ever existed…and I know that I will never, ever stop.”

Then THINGS GET HEAVY (NSFW IF YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN)

Colin and Stefan “spend the night together” for the first time!

Stefan is totally a lost puppy…sooo Colin takes the lead (but in a gentle, kind, caring and sweet way)

Oh lemme just establish this right here, right now…COLIN is TOTALLY A TOP

And Stefan loves it. 

Stefan wakes up in Colin’s arms each and every morning.

Colin loves shotgunning with Stefan because Stefan still coughs when he inhales the weed.

When they do get high, they listen to the Beatles, Bowie, or Lou Reed. 

They cuddle 24/7, and its perfect.

Overall, everything is just so amazingly perfect.

They never have to chose between two things. They think about each and every choice they have, because now they have so many. 

“What about Kitty and Pearl?”…one of you may be asking this very question…Stefan asked this as well.

Well plot twist, Kitty isn’t actually Colin’s wife or girlfriend, and Pearl isn’t really Colin’s daughter. Kitty is an old friend…and um hi she’s a lesbian icon. She had a bad relationship with a guy before she came out, and had Pearl from that relationship. 

Kitty loves Pearl nonetheless, of course, and would face the trauma of her bad relationship all over again just to have her. 

Colin decides to take them in. He poses as Pearl’s father and Kitty’s husband to help Kitty and Pearl have a better life.

However, things obviously change when Stefan and Colin begin dating, but Stefan and Colin still support Kitty and Pearl because they’re good, decent, loving people.

- Life is just…good. 

#headcanon #bandersnatch fluff #yes finally a happy bandersnatch imagine #i hope this is okay! #bandersnatch fanfiction #bandersnatch headcanon #bandersnatch #colin ritman stefan butler #colin ritman x stefan butler #colin ritman #stefan butler #bandersnatch imagine #canon divergence