#this was made a LONG time ago. im finally going back to my old drafts

[thelov3lybookworm]

To Love and Cakes

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a flower and gardening tools shop's owner in Velaris. When he gets sick, y/n makes her father take some rest and looks after the small shop herself. But she is new to all this as her father never let her work a day in her life.

One day, as she's looking after the shop, a red haired high fae comes looking for gardening gloves as a gift to someone. Y/n helps him, and learns that he is a frequent customer.

Due to his frequent visits, they soon develop a bond. More than friends, but not lovers.

Yet.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: i dont think there are any but still, here we go. elain being a sour and jealous mate even though she's been sailing on the elriel ship, a few curse words and all. Can't think of anything else, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: this thing has been in my draft for faxing months. This is, to me, the best work of mine. This is my baby. I LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

(ps. even if youre not a lucien girlie, try reading it. i have a secret agenda to make every one of you creatures a lucien simp, just like im trying to make @artists-ally a lucien simp)

(also, the scene towards the end where reader is dancing was inspired by one of the fbaa books, if it seemed familiar or you were wondering)

t'is a long one children, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

As Y/n finished walking around the store, cleaning, she thought back to the morning two days ago.

She had just woken up and was walking towards her father's kitchen for breakfast when she heard it. A cough. She quickened her pace, entering the kitchen to find her father bent over, his body heaving from the coughs.

She rushed to him, helping him to the nearest chair. When she bought him some water, he smiled up at her gratefully.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest, father? Why won't you let me help you?"

"I might be getting old, but not that old that I need to rely on my daughter to help me earn. Unless you are trying to steal my shop?"

"Father!" She said, exasperated, even though she knew he was just saying that to irritate her. "You are staying home till you get better. I'll take care of the shop."

"But you don't know anything about it." At the glare she gave him, he finally conceded. "Let me help for today atleast. Show you how to handle it. I promise I'll rest."

She had come to visit and stay with her father for some days, having just quit her previous job, searching for a new one. They were well off, the house that Y/n lived in owned by her. She had wanted to see if her father needed any help around. Which he didn't. He wasn't very old and ill by any means, he just didn't know when to stop. That's why she had already made her father agree to closing the store earlier and taking the weekends off.

As Y/n put away the cleaning equipment in the back of the store, the bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. As she hurried to the front desk, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful male that was waiting from behind a shelf.

He had dark crimson hair cascading over his shoulder that looked like fire, with one russet eye and one that was a golden metal one, which was whirring. A scar marred the skin surrounding that eye and trailed to his jaw.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze when she realised she was staring. He hadn't yet noticed her though, looking around the shop. She stepped out from behind the shelf and cleared her throat.

He turned to her at once, giving her a warm smile.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" She asked with a small smile.

"I'm looking for enchanted gardening gloves."

She wracked her brain for the location of said gloves before perking up. "Right this way." As she led the way, he followed a respectful distance away. To fill the silence, she spoke up. "Are you from Night Court? You don't seem like you're from here."

"Yes. I'm from... Autumn Court." His hesitation was evident, and Y/n didn't push.

"Here we are." She said, stopping in front of the gloves stacked neatly on a shelf. She left him alone when he nodded.

She began sorting out her desk, her father's, really, which was near the entrance to the shop.

By the time she finished, the male was done with his browsing and bought out the gloves to the desk to pay for them. The whole ordeal went silently and quickly. With a word of thanks and a 'good day', he was on his way.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He stared at her. His mate.

He wondered if, under other circumstances, she would have not despised him. Could she have ever loved him the way others loved their mates? Would the two of them be together if there was no cruelty in this world?

He answered those himself.

The first one? Probably.

The second one? Maybe.

The third one? No.

Because, if there was no cruelty in this world, his love, one his father had killed, would not be dead. Jesminda would be alive still. And if she was alive, he wouldn't care for anything, even his own mate.

And maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared at Elain smiling at the Shadowsinger from the corner of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the gift he'd bought for her. It was enchanted gardening gloves so her hands wouldn't get cut. Of course, the present had been discarded in a corner, unopened. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the gift. No, he had seen her look at it before placing it aside from her other gifts.

He'd seen her do that, and his heart had been pierced by an arrow. At least it felt like it.

As he stared at the gift, his mind drifted to the shop where he had bought it from. The shop run by the female. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even said much, but she had simply caught his attention.

He blinked when a loud laugh interrupted his thoughts, looking at the inner circle sitting in the center of the room and having the time of their lives, while he sat in the darkest corner he could find. He knew he didn't fit in here, and that most of them didnt trust or like him.

He didn't know why he had accepted Feyre's invitation to stay for the night when he knew he'd be miserable.

He had thought that maybe, just maybe, they would include him in their fun. At least for one night.

He felt so dumb now.

After a little bit of contemplation, he decided it best if he left. No one was going to miss him anyways.

Quietly, he downed the whiskey in his glass, then rolled onto his feet. He set the glass on a nearby table, then turned towards the door. He walked towards it, his boots making no noise.

As he exited the room, there was no sign of the festivities slowing down. None. He removed his coat from the nearby hook, donning it as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn't until Lucien was out of the house that the sounds faltered for a brief moment, but then the laughter started back again, and Lucien sighed, his breath misting in front of him. He stared at the little cloud of fog in front of his face.

He didn't want to go home– if it could even be called that– not yet. The night was still young. Maybe he would go on a little walk around Velaris before he returned to the mortal lands.

He started the trek across the city, walking slowly, letting his mind wander, his eyes seeing everything but taking nothing in. It was like a waste of time, looking at the beauty but not caring enough to appreciate it.

He sighed, making his way through the vibrant market place. The children running around the place, candies in their hand, adults lingering around the place with their lovers and families truly added to the beauty of the festival.

But Lucien's eyes were unseeing, his heart unfeeling as he avoided the running and giggling children.

Someone slammed into Lucien from somewhere near him, and that finally broke him out of the haze that he'd been in.

He glanced at the fae leaning against him, trying to gain her footing in the crowded area.

"I am so sorry. I got pushed–" The female looked up at him, finally stable on her feet. She cocked her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "Oh. It's you."

He returned the smile, somehow easier than it should have been considering the foul mood he'd been. "It's me. I don't think I caught your name this morning."

The lady from the gardening shop grinned, her cheeks rosy, glowing with happiness. "Y/n."

"Lucien." He mumbled, studying her. She nodded, holding out her hand. He took it.

Then they stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out what to say. "Um... enjoying solstice?"

"Yeah." She returned, a relieved expression on her face. "Just left the house after dinner. My father said he's going out with some friends, so I decided to head out for some desserts. You?"

"Not really..." That was not the right answer, but Lucien was struggling to put on his mask of indifference.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alone?"

He smiled ruefully as he looked away. "Very."

After a moment of silence, the lady spoke up again. "What are your thoughts on some cake? Pie? Or maybe cookies?"

Lucien blinked, then glanced at her. "What?"

She grinned, turning away and gesturing with her hand to follow her. Seeing that he had no other reason to haunt the streets of Velaris, he followed her.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, walking with purpose towards her destination. She stumbled sometimes, due to being pushed around by the crowd, but mostly by herself. She seemed to have a problem walking without tripping.

She tripped again, so bad that Lucien had to catch her elbow to stop her from faceplanting. She grinned up at him sheepishly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you... drunk?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't drink. It's taste is disgusting."

A small smirk made is way into Lucien's face, but he simply nodded at her to keep going. She continued on.

Soon, she was walking into a brightly lit shop, cakes and various baked goods displayed through the glass.

"This is my favourite place for sweets and baked items. It's really good."

She went to open the door, but Lucien stretched out his hand and held it for her. She blinked at him before smiling and stepping in to the warm interior.

"Hello." She greeted the kind looking old lady behing the counter, who smiled widely.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good. How about yourself?" Y/n replied.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just these joints creaking a little extra nowadays."

Y/n grinned fondly. "Maybe you should just get some rest, you old hag."

"Oh shut it. I will rest once I know I have succeded in convincing you to get a partner. Mother knows how lonely you must be."

"I'm not lonely, you old hag. As long as I have you and father, I will never be alone."

"Yeah yeah whatever." Then the old female seemed to notice Lucien, and her eyes lit up. "Are you finally seeing someone?"

Y/n blinked, then glanced at Lucien. Her lips parted, then a flush climbed up her neck. She furiously shook her head, and the old lady sighed.

"Well, hope I'm not dead when you finally decide to interact with others." The female bustled away as other people walked upto the counter to place their order.

Y/n turned to Lucien, her face red, and she gestured to the display of sweets. He grinned when she turned away again. "Choose what you would like to try. I always go for pineapple, but chocolate is also good."

Lucien dipped his head in a nod when she glanced at him to make sure he understood her, and then the two of them went on to get their cakes.

As they were about to leave the shop, the owner of the shop called to him. "Psst. Hey! You!"

When Lucien glanced up questioningly, the lady Y/n had been talking to motioned at him to come closer. He inched towards the counter behind which the lady stood as Y/n talked to another one of the workers.

"What are your intentions for her?" The lady hissed at Lucien as soon as she was sure no one could hear her.

Lucien blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't you dare even think of hurting her. Males have hurt her enough. She is a pure soul, and if you hurt her, then I will carve your eyes out with a spoon. You hear me young man?"

Lucien nodded, dumbfounded. Thank the cauldron though, Y/n decided that moment to walk up to the two of them.

The old lady smiled at her, and then shooed Y/n and Lucien away. Y/n rolled her eyes and led Lucien out of the shop.

She crossed the road and settled onto one of the many benches overlooking the Sidra. She patted the place next to her and he obliged, studying her.

"What were you and the old hag talking about?"

"Nothing..."

Y/n raised a brow but stayed silent as she dug into the treat in her hands.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate, staring at the waters of the Sidra.

Unfortunately, soon enough the two of them were done eating, and Y/n turned to Lucien. She smiled. "Did you like the cake?"

Lucien gave her a smile. A genuine one, one that felt like he hadn't smiled in centuries. He probably hadn't.

"I did. Thank you for making my solstice better."

"I enjoyed the time too, no need to thank me."

And then the two of them parted ways, Lucien thanking her again and her telling him not to worry about it.

Lucien watched her until she had vanished between the crowd, then he turned and decided to walk to secluded place before he winnowed back to human lands.

A soft breeze caressed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the cool touch. His mind drifted back to Y/n.

He smiled softly, opening his eyes and leaning his head back, staring at the stars twinkling down at him, as if they were winking.

Maybe... just maybe, not all fae were miserable and hateful.

Maybe there was someone out there, like Y/n, who would not hate him for simply existing.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n only had one thought in her mind, and that was to hurry up.

She had been out in the market, getting the things she needed according to the cooking book she had recently bought.

She had decided to surprise her best friend since childhood with a home baked cake, and hence the rush to get home and start the preparations.

The catch?

Y/n was shit at baking.

The few times she had tried to bake, she had either ended with something that was too hard to even be called a rock, or with something that vaguely resembled... puke.

Even thinking about it sent shivers up Y/n's spine.

But back then she hadn't used a cookbook's instruction, she tried to reason with the sane part of her brain, the one that knew this was a bad idea.

Hurry up-

And she smacked into a wall. A very warm wall.

All her bags slipped from her hands and onto the ground as she stumbled back, barely keeping herself from falling onto her ass.

She lifted her head to apologise to whoever she had crashed onto when her eyes met russet and gold. Lucien.

She paused as she watched him cock his head, a little smile spreading on his features.

"I seem to notice a pattern, Y/n."

She lifted an eyebrow as she bent to gather her stuff. He followed. "What pattern?"

She tried to shoo him off by waving her hands, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are always crashing into me. That sounds like a pattern to me."

She scowled, knowing that if her father or any of her friends saw her, they would yell at her for being disrespectful to someone who was helping her.

He grinned, glancing at her as he stood, most of her bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help carrying these?" He questioned when she climbed to her feet too, and she blinked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll carry them myself. I don't want to bother you."

"I insist. And it's really not a bother. I have nothing else to do. These are really heavy, let me help."

"You really don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled triumphantly, as if he knew he had won. "I don't."

She sighed. "Fine then. My house is nearby. Thank you vey much."

He shook his head, that smile still on his face. "No worries."

She led him to her house, a peaceful silence between the two.

It wasn't long before they reached her house, and she turned to him, keys in her hand.

"Please come in. Let me make you some tea." That was the least she could do for him.

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, I don't want to bother you. It was my pleasure to help."

"I insist. And it really is not a bother." She smirked, throwing his words back at him.

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine."

She let the two of them in, setting about to get some tea ready. "So, may I ask what you are going to with these?"

When Y/n turned to look at him, he gestured at the bags he set on the counter.

"Because from what I saw outside, these things are usually used for baking."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah. It's my friends birthday today. I was thinking of making her a cake."

"That's great. Do you bake often?"

Her smile now turned sheepish. "No. I tried a couple of times, back when I was younger," -six months ago- "and I damn near brought down the whole kitchen once."

Lucien chuckled. "So now you think you can do it properly?"

She picked up the cookbook nearby and waved it at him. "I will follow instructions this time."

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, she thought he would laugh, but he didn't. He simply extended his hand towards her and asked, "Can I have a look?"

She handed it to him, turning to check on the tea she was brewing.

The sound of the pages being flipped were the only sounds other than her pouring the liquid into cups for the two of them.

When she turned back around, she found him staring intensely at the book, his brows furrowed, a downward tilt to his mouth. She tried to make no noise as she set down the cup in front of him, hoping to not disturb his concentration.

But he glanced up at her, frowning. "This won't work. This is too complicated."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes and words. "What do you mean?"

He closed the book, setting it aside as he pulled the cup of tea towards him. "Baking is simpler than whatever bullshit is given in there."

"You know how to bake?"

"I helped my mother when I was younger."

"And exactly how many years ago was that?"

His eyes narrowed. "How many years since you baked anything?"

That made Y/n shut up.

She sighed ruefully. "Maybe I'm just not supposed to bake."

Lucien shook his head. "I can help."

She glanced at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do anyways. I can help you bake the cake."

"I don't want to bother-"

"Its not a bother. I would love to help."

Y/n smiled behind her cup as she took a sip of her tea, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"Thank you. I appreciate the gesture." Then, she looked at the redhead for a moment longer before turning away. "And you know what? I am noticing a pattern too."

•○🌑○•

After a day filled with trying to decide on the flavour for the cake, the decorations, making the cake and laughter, it was finally time to sleep.

The party had been perfect, so many memories made, and so many things she could think about.

But no matter what, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about him.

She didn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so thoroughly around a male, let alone one she knew nothing about.

And as she went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how his eyes twinkled in amusement when she had dropped an egg on the ground- huffing and puffing- she failed to keep that smile off of her face.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien's pov.

After the day filled with helping her bake, correcting anything she had been doing wrong and watching as happiness spread across her face when the cake came out almost nearly perfect, it was finally time to sleep.

The day had been perfect, a reprieve from the constant ugly thoughts Lucien had about himself. Memories had been made, though unexpected.

But no matter what, Lucien could not stop thinking about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly around someone, let alone someone he barely knew anything about.

And as he went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how she had jumped around and squealed in excitement- so much so that she had nearly burnt herself by the hot pan- Lucien failed to keep that smile off of his face.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Soon enough, Y/n learned that the handsome male with the metal eye, Lucien, was the Lucien Vanserra. The youngest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.

He frequented the shop after that day they spent baking, him and Y/n becoming fast friends. He'd told her that he lived in the human lands with his friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Recently, she had learned that this Jurian he was friends with was the Jurian from the war centuries ago, the powerful human commander, remade by the Cauldron.

Expect Lucien to surprise a four hundred year old fae who thought she could not be surprised about anything anymore.

Y/n shook her head with an exasperated grin, finishing braiding her hair. She had spent the whole afternoon wondering what hairstyle would look good with her dress for her meeting with Lucien, eventually settling for a simple braid. Few strands framed her face, and she thought it looked better than any elaborate hairstyle she could have done.

Even after six months of being friends with him, he never failed to shock her by telling her things about himself.

He had sent a letter in advance that he would be visiting today, and he wanted to meet with her in their favourite cafe before reporting to the High Lord.

She had, of course, agreed. He was the only friend she had other than the female she had baked for, what with her being cooped up in her home with a book in hand when she wasn't working in the nearby jewellery store.

A knock sounded on the door, and Y/n practically flew down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm her heart before opening the door.

There he stood in all his glory, smiling at her. The fading sunshine made his hair look on fire, his skin glowing.

"My lady. You look quite...dishevelled." He murmured, his eye twinkling. Y/n frowned, lifting her hand to her hair. It had looked good when she checked it in the mirror. Maybe the braid didn't look as good as she thought it did. In which case, she wanted to go and jump off a cliff.

Before her hand could touch her hair though, Lucien caught it, grinning and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact. Y/n blushed.

"When I said dishevelled, I meant you look like you've run a mile. That looks exquisite." He said, straightening and flicking her forehead. "You look exquisite."

"Shut up." She mumbled, shoving his shoulder and stepping out, turning to lock the door. When she had finished, she turned to find him leaning against a pillar of the front porch. He smiled and inclined his head towards the road.

They walked towards the cafe, talking about his past days in the human lands and her job at the jewellery store. How she didn't really care for it and was thinking of taking up something else.

They soon reached the cafe which stood right on the banks of the Sidra and had outdoor seating as well in the backyard, right next to the river. As they settled down in their usual seat in a corner right next to the river, her eyes sharpened on the paper stuck on a nearby wall.

"Hey Lucien? Do you see that?" Y/n questioned, making Lucien glance back at it.

"Yeah. Looks like they're hiring." Lucien's eye lit up as he turned back to her. "You should try." She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon, they finished their food and Lucien was waiting to pay, having insisted on paying while Y/n talked to the hotel's owner. She was quite happy Y/n said she wanted to work there. They finally settled on her starting in two days.

After that, as they were walking home, the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes reached them. Y/n grinned at Lucien who took her arm and walked towards the stand where an old lady was selling small round cakes that were the size of Y/n's palm. They made idle conversation with her while she handed them their treats.

"You two make a good couple. Are you mates?" She asked as soon Y/n took a bite. Which was very unfortunate as she immediately choked on it. Lucien patted her back, grinning as he turned to the lady.

"No, we aren't mates. We're just friends."

"What a shame. But maybe the bond hasn't made itself known yet?"

Lucien shook his head with a sad smile. "That would've been wonderful, really." Y/n's had whipped to him, her eyes wide. Did he just say what she thought he did? Could it be that he... no. That was stupid. He had a mate that he would die for, regardless of whether she liked him back. He would never...

"But I already have a mate." He continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry then for assuming things."

"Don't be. It's not like it matters anyway. She doesn't want the bond."

"Oh mother, that's truly unfortunate. Maybe you could be with someone else? I loved someone in my youth, but he never paid me any attention. Then one day my friend advised me to forget the male. Now I'm married to my friend and I think I couldn't be any more happy."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "That's a good advice, I must say. And I'll definitely think about it." He winked at Y/n, making her blush furiously.

They continued on after that, though there was silence now compared to their earlier mindless chatter. And it was filled with tension. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the waters of the Sidra nearby.

As they walked, her mind wandered to what Lucien had said to the woman. Could he really mean what he had said? He wasn't one to joke about such serious matters... but then again, maybe he was jesting.

Soon, they had reached her house, and she stepped up to open the door.

"You want to come in? We can have some tea..."

Lucien smiled. "I would love to if it's not a problem."

As she set about making the tea, he sat watching her every move. Which made her work extremely carefully, wondering if he was judging her. Which was absurd. Because, not only would Lucien never judge her, but also because she never would have cared for something so trivial as someone judging her. So why did she care now?

Because you lov–

She shut the thought down before it even finished.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

It had been over a month since he had seen his Y/n, and he was already craving her presence. Initially, he been able to go longer periods without meeting his friend. But as time went on, he became more and more enraptured with her and shorter and shorter became the time period between his visits.

The way she laughed on anything he said. The way her eyes would light up when she looked at him. The way he could make her blush by just looking at her. How she would get excited when taking about the newest book she was reading or when she learned something that made her happy.

He just couldn't get enough of her sometimes. All he wanted to do was stay and bask in her presence.

Of course, it wasn't possible, what with his work of going back and forth between human lands and the Night Court, as well as Day Court, where he had been spending some time getting to know his father.

It was a shock when he found out that Beron wasn't his real father, but he was adjusting. She had a big part in his acceptance. And he was grateful for it.

Now, he was going to leave his emissary duties for the Night Court, going to live in his father's court permanently. Which was why Feyre had decided to have the whole of the inner circle and him go out to eat for dinner. Lucien had suggested the cafe by the Sidra for the ordeal.

The place where Y/n currently worked.

He was smiling at his thoughts of her when he knocked on the door of the River House. Nuala opened it, greeting him with a smile before letting him enter. There was already sounds of chatter coming from the living room as he walked towards it. Everyone was here then. Great.

The quicker this was over, the faster he could spend time with Y/n.

He would leave soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back to Velaris. He had important people here.

He had informed Rhys about his departure a few months ago, and had agreed to stay till they found someone who would be willing to take up the duties of Lucien. They were still searching for someone, so Lucien was still the emissary.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien tapped his leg on the floor impatiently, his eyes constantly flitting between the tables and booths in search of his friend.

It had only been a few moments since he had arrived with the inner circle, but he simply couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of her.

While he was searching for Y/n, he failed to notice the High lord and lady's, as well as the entire inner circle's eyes on him.

He craned his head, and he finally heard that beautiful voice he'd been dying to hear from behind him.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but Lucien didn't care as his eyes met those of Y/n's.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, a knowing look in her eyes as she turned away to converse with Rhysand.

His brain didn't process the words being exchanged between the two, he was so busy admiring her.

And wondering when the damn dinner will be over so he could finally talk to her and catch up.

When she left the table after taking their orders, she distcreetly brushed her hand against his bicep, pulling a smile on his face.

Just an hour or so. He reminded himself as he focused on the table in front of him, ignoring the looks of the inner circle, including Elain.

Which wasn't all that hard.

•○●⛦●○•

The time seemed to pass slower, just to torture Lucien that night.

Right when Lucien was about to loose his patience, everyone had finished dessert, and were on the verge of leaving.

Lucien stood, nodding at Cassian and Azriel in goodbye, hugging Feyre and shaking Rhys's hand. Making some excuse- unconvincing, he was sure- about having to go meet up with Vassa and Jurian, he walked away, eyeing the place Y/n had disappeared into.

He knew that she was about to leave, had probably already left, and he couldn't wait to tell her all the juicy stories he'd acquired over his recent travels, as well as the budding tensions between Vassa and Jurian.

The moment he stepped out onto the road, he heard her voice.

"So desperate to meet me fox boy?"

Lucien smirked, turning to find the owner of the voice leaning against a wall. "You wish."

Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed herself off the wall. "Sure. Didn't seem like it was just my fantasy when you were searching around like an eager puppy."

He grinned, though a flush climbed up his neck at being caught red handed. "Just wanted to see you so I could tell you about Vassa and Jurian."

Y/n grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his neck. He returned the hug in kind, warming up his body a little through his magic so he could ward off the chill in the air surrounding them.

They stayed in the hug for longer than seemed appropriate, but no one was watching anyways. And neither of them cared if anyone was.

Y/n was the first to pull away, smiling shyly up at Lucien.

"You want to get some cake before we go home?" Y/n questioned, beginning towards the general direction of her home.

"I feel like we should make it ourselves." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began the trek to her home.

She shook her head slightly, becoming redder by the moment as she grinned softly at her feet.

•○🌑○•

It was solstice tonight.

It had been one not-long-enough year since he'd met Y/n.

Lucien's chest felt lighter than it had been in ages.

They had already found a new emissary who they trusted, and so today was Lucien's last day as a member of the Inner Circle.

He was here today to deliver some reports to Rhys.

The sound of utensils and laughter greeted him as soon as he entered the River house, the inner circle being as loud as ever. But as soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, everything went silent, all eyes turning to him.

He smiled at Feyre, nodding to Rhys and pointing to the papers in his hands. He placed the stack on a table nearby, before nodding again to the rulers of Night and turning away.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come have dinner with us." Lucien looked at Feyre, shaking his head.

He didn't want to stay. Not when all that was going through his head was how he would go up to Y/n's door and knock, and how she would open the door suspiciously, those eyes narrowed. But then she would realise that it was him, and she would fling the door open with squeal, tackling him into a hug, laughing. How when she pulled back, she'd realise she was in her pajamas and would self consciously brush herself down, touching her hair. How–

"Lucien?" Lucien winced, coming back to the present.

"I can't stay. I have to go meet a friend."

"Oh. Did you plan a meeting beforehand?"

"Oh no. She doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go surprise her."

"She?" A gentle and soft voice intoned. Lucien stiffened. The voice he had wanted to hear acknowledge him ever since the bond snapped for him.

He turned to look at Elain, his brows rising as he took her in. She was standing from her seat next to the shadowsinger, her knuckles white from clenching her fork so tightly. Her brows were furrowed in anger, and she looked murderous.

"Yes..." He didn't really know how to answer the question, so he simply watched her.

Rage entered her eyes. "Is this the female you went with that night when we were out?"

Lucien blinked, wondering what was making Elain so angry. "Yes. Exactly that one."

Elain huffed out a bitter laugh. "So is she trying to steal my mate now? She did look like someone who steals males."

For a moment, no one moved. There was so much silence it was deafening.

Almost everyone was staring between Elain and Lucien, their eyes wide. Except from Amren, of course. Nothing could faze the little devil. And Nyx, who waved around a piece of carrot like a sword.

Lucien smiled slowly. "Glad to know your thoughts on my life, mate. I will let her know of your amazing thoughts about her."

Lucien turned away, walking towards the foyer, but just before he turned out of sight, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Elain's.

"She and I were only ever friends, but now that you've said it, I realise that we never were meant to be friends." Lucien smiled slightly, bowing his head. "Thank you."

And with that, he left, ready to meet with his friend.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Her solstice had been normal. Nothing great to do. Her father had gone out drinking with his friends, her friends having been busy with their own families. Even the old hag was busy tending to and celebrating with her brother.

She was sure Lucien would also be busy with something, since he hadn't written to her to let her know of his arrival if he was coming.

That left Y/n alone.

But then suddenly, a knock had sounded on the door, and Y/n's heart had fluttered before even knowing who stood on the other side of the door.

After Lucien told her what was going on with Vassa and Jurian, he began telling her of the events that went down in the High lord's home as she got ready to take a stroll around Velaris with Lucien.

Her blood boiled when she heard of the things Elain said to Lucien, but a smile of reassurance from him was all it took for her to calm down.

They were in the main square of Velaris right now, watching the people dance around the huge fire in the centre.

It had become a tradition in the recent years for the people of the city to come together and dance the night away, laughing and drinking and mingling. It was a wholesome event, where younger people would gather around the old towards the end of the night and simply listen to their tales.

This was the first time Y/n was attending with someone else, as usually she would come here alone and sit next to the elderly, watching as younger couple her age danced around and bonded.

The glow from the fire danced in Lucien's eyes, making it look like there was fire inside those mismatched eyes. There was a relaxed grin on his face, one like she'd never seen before. He seemed so careless now, so free, it made Y/n smile too.

"You're staring." He pointed out, his voice barely audible over the cheers and the faeries singing along.

Y/n blushed, but in a sudden burst of boldness, she spoke, looking away. "It would be a crime not to."

From the periphery of her eyes, she found him gaping at her and had to suppress a triumphant smile.

"You know, I feel like the Mother took extra time making you."

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound lighting fires across Y/n's body.

"All that extra time to make me ruined by a fucking scar."

His tone was light, though Y/n could sense a hint of insecurity and sadness under the joy.

She turned to him, watching as the smile slowly vanished from his face at the look in her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Lucien, scars and all. And if I had the chance, I would show you how beautiful they are to me." She let her hand reach up toward his face, ignoring the heat entering his eyes or the way his pupils dilated as she traced the scar that ended at his jaw.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

HIs eyes fell shut as the music came to an end, and the people dancing around the fire dispersed for a moment.

"Y/n..." He whispered, his hand reaching up to hold hers against his face.

The music started up again, a soft and slower sound than before, more sensual.

This one was for people who were a couple or in a relationship, just a slow waltz to cool down before everyone again joined in a faster, more traditional dance.

"Dance with me."

The words were a shock to her system, and she nodded without even thinking.

It wasn't until the two of them had begun dancing, her arms wrapped around his broad and strong shoulders, their faces barely inches away, that she remembered that this was a waltz for couples, and she and Lucien were definitely not a couple.

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. She opened her mouth to tell him, trying to ignore the warmth against her skin from the fire behind her, his body pressed so close to hers in the front.

"Lucien, this dance is for-"

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes smoldering. "I know." He repeated, making sure she understood.

Suddenly, his arms around her waist became more apparent, the way they rested over her lower back. The way the stray hairs that had escaped his low bun tickled her neck, the way his breath washed over her skin when he exhaled.

Y/n's mind was about to either stop working, or remind her of Lucien's touch every two minutes, and honestly, she didn't know which one she prefered.

He never broke eye contact once during the whole dance.

Soon, but not soon enough, the slow music came to an end. And the people that sat along the outer edge cheered, clapping and demanding the couples kiss. And as all the couples shared that intimate moment, Y/n's heart rate picked up, panic clawing up her throat, feeling so many eyes on her and him, wondering what Lucien would do.

She didn't have to wonder long, though.

Lucien began leaning in, making Y/n's eyes flutter closed. She swallowed, licking her lips.

Then she felt his hot breath closer to her face, his lashes brushing gently against her skin as she felt those plump, beautiful lips on the corner of hers.

She felt him smile against her skin. All the while, it was hard to breathe.

But then he pulled away, a flush on his cheeks. If it was because of the heat of the enormous fire behind her, or because he was genuinely flustered, she couldn't tell.

As the faster music started, Lucien grinned wickedly at her.

"Let's dance, my lady."

•○🌑○•

Y/n's feet were sore, but it was all so worth it.

At some point during the night, she had discarded her shoes next to a kind old male who she had known since she was a child.

All the dances after Y/n and Lucien's initial waltz had been fast paced, where everyone changed partners every few moments. It was one of the best things that had happened that night, getting to know new people and dancing and singing along to the top of their lungs.

It was all so beautiful.

She had always thought so, watching from the sidelines. But now, being one of the people she would have watched, it was a whole different experience.

The dancing was supposed to go on for atleast one more hour before the elders gathered and began telling stories. That would go on for the rest of the night.

And so, Y/n decided to get some rest, maybe somewhere on he benches near the Sidra where it would be quiet before returning to listen to the elder's tales.

Listening to loud music for hours was one way to invite a headache.

Y/n began making her way up to Lucien, who stood on the opposite side of the huge fire, but then she paused, simply admiring him.

He had discarded his embroidered overcoat next to where Y/n had placed her shoes, now only in a simple, thin white shirt that clung to his sweaty frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He laughed as he held the hands of a little girl, giving her instructions on how to move. The little girl's tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated, and Lucien was just as concentrated as her.

Once the current music came to an end, the girl grinned up at Lucien, and he ruffled her hair in return before she ran away, maybe to her friends.

Y/n finally walked up to Lucien, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, you."

He smiled back. "Good evening, my lady."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the title. "Shut up."

"Can I not even greet you now?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going to go sit at a bench, rest a little then return. You coming?"

He nodded, walking over to where his coat lay on the ground. He picked it up along with her shoes then returned.

When she tried to take her shoes from him, he waved her away.

The two of them walked in silence, heading towards the quiet river. Once there, they walked onto the bank and settled down where the place was relatively drier than all other places. Y/n dipped her feet in the cold water, releasing a relieved sigh at the soothing sensation.

Lucien pulled out two packets from the pocket of his coat, tearing open the wrapper and handing one to Y/n. She looked at him, confused.

He simply opened his pack, and then bit into the cake.

"Why do you have these with you?" She questioned, though she began nibbling on the little treat.

He shrugged. "Jurian found these at a bakery in mortal lands a few days ago. I thought you might like it."

She smiled, staring into the water as she slowly chewed.

"The inner circle were in the crowd tonight."

Y/n whipped her head to look at Lucien, but he didn't even seem bothered or interested in talking about the inner circle. He said it so casually, like he was telling her it was night and not day.

After a moment, Y/n spoke. "Was Elain there?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake. He took his time chewing before he gave her a response.

"I saw them after the fourth or fifth song. Apparently, they'd been watching since the first song."

Y/n gaped at him.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?! Your mate saw you dancing with me on a song meant for people involved romantically!"

He blinked, then raised a brow. "And?"

"That might ruin any chances you had with her!"

He shrugged again. "There was never any chance anyway."

"Lucien! You-"

"Look Y/n. It's been long since the bond made itself known. It's been long enough that if she wanted to accept the bond, she would have. And long enough that if she didn't want the bond, she would have rejected it."

"Yes I know but you love her-"

"Let me speak, love. Let me get this off my chest. I never loved her. She didn't give me the chance to. The pull I felt towards her was simply the bond clouding my judgement. The desperation with which I seeked to gain her attention was me simply yearning for happiness. If I had not been so lonely and upset all the time, maybe I wouldn't even have acknowledged the bond if she ignored it too.

"And maybe I am a bastard for that, but I don't know what had gotten over me for the past year or so. I had lost almost all of myself, until you came along.

"You-" Lucien looked at Y/n, his eyes bright "-you made me realise that I did not need another person to make me happy, and that I didn't have to stop being myself for someone to love me. And i will be eternally grateful to you for it."

Y/n shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucien, you deserve to find love. You deserve to have a happy life."

"And I know that now. All because of you."

"But I did nothing." She sniffed, her cake forgotten in her hand.

"You didn't have to. Just simply being my friend and showing me kindness made a significant difference in how I saw myself."

"But what about Elain? What about the bond?"

He smiled. "She can be with anyone she wants now. She wanted to have control over some aspects of her life after having been forced to turn, and honestly, I don't blame her. I would have wanted to do the same if my life had been anything like her."

"And what about you?"

Y/n felt like she knew the answer, but she still wanted to know.

"I do not need a bond to be with someone I love, you know."

"And who is it that you love?"

His smile turned knowing. "You know the answer, don't you?"

"Tell me still. After all, you do love hearing yourself speak."

This was a serious moment, but Y/n felt like if she didn't try to lighten the air by joking, this would become real. And she didn't know if she could handle that.

"I love you, Y/n."

She closed her eyes, telling herself this was not real, that she would wake up soon, and realise this had been a dream. Just like all the times before she had had the dream of being with Lucien and then waking up, all alone in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

But when silence settled around her, him staring at her expectantly, she realised this was no dream.

That someone like Lucien really was in love with someone like her.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't mean that."

She felt his thumb brushing away the tear a moment before she felt his lips on her cheek. "I do. I am in love with you, my lady. I would do anything to show you how much I love you. To prove to you that I really do."

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean why? There is not need of a reason for me to love you. I simply love you because you exist."

After a moment, she whispered what she had been dying to scream. "I love you, Lucien. I love you so much."

His smile widened, and he began closing the distance between them. "Then let me be yours."

Just before their lips met, she mumbled. "Be mine."

And her body ignited.

•○●⛦●○•

Her joints were creaking, but the old hag watched, and waited.

She had this primal need to have the little girl she'd watched grow up in front of her eyes find happiness, and she would threaten even the mother if the need arose to make Y/n happy.

But she didn't have to do that, because as she watched, the fire head male leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/n's lips, and the old hag smiled, giddy with happiness and excitement.

And then she turned away, meaning to hobble back to the solstice celebration in the main square and leave the two younglings to enjoy the night together.

But then she paused, staring at the young female that stared at Y/n and the fire boy she'd fallen in love with.

Slowly, the old hag's brain remembered that this female with soft features and silky hair was the high lady's sister. And in turn, Lucien's mate.

Damn the mother. The old hag cursed, shaking her head.

"Leave them be." The hag ordered the girl in front of her, who turned to her with wide eyes. "They both deserve happiness. Don't you dare think about getting in the way."

The girl in the lilac dress nodded, her eyes becoming watery, but the hag had already begun walking away.

And after a final glance at the giggling couple on the riverbank, the girl turned away, jealousy and relief warring in her chest.

•○●⛦●○•

When Lucien pulled away, his hand still resting on her cheek, she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. His lips quirked, a little swollen.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the water. "Should we do a toast, my lord?"

He laughed at that, shifting closer to her as he put an arm around her shoulders. "And what will we toast with? We don't have wine or anything."

"We have these cakes." She pointed out.

He lifted his cake into the air. "Alright then. To love!"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "And cakes!" She said as she raised her hand, and Lucien laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Carefree and happy.

And Y/n simply watched, admiring.

Loving.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

#acotar #Lucien x reader #Acotar fanfic #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #Lucien fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #fluff #Lucien fic #Lucien fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #Acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #reader insert #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vandaddy

[not-a-big-slay]

Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary:betrayal leaves some wounds behind, but even more questions when you can't figured out from whom it really came from.

warnings: violence, cursing

type: fluff

part: 12/13

previous part: part 11 masterlist

a/n: please, please, PLEASEEUHH im SO SO SORRY! it has been almost a FUCKING YEAR SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER?! HELLO?! WHO TF DO I THINK I AM? i need to keep myself in line cuz this aint normal! i have been hiatus for soo long i need to pull it together. anywayy, its finished finally. its long ahh hell and im gonna be working on another part immediately so it wont be another 50 years dw. dont mind any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language and i have written one half of this in 2023, so i really dont feel like redoing it lol. i dare you if you can recognize where exactly i picked this draft up again. anyway, pleasee enjoy!!

also, sike, its not the last part hehe, there will be part 13 AND an epilogue

taglist (hi yall :'))

@chickencouncilrep

@venomsvl

@happy-nico

@twlegit

@ravenmedows

@blathena

‎

She had lost again.

That would be the third time tonight. Her change was getting thin and she predicted it would take one more game before she had to go kill someone for free again. So much for making a ton of money with this job. The girl watched her opponent spoon the coins from the table with one hand, laughing: "One more game and I'll have to dig up another grave, Y/N." Others laughed, so she wasn't the only one thinking that after all. It was logical, she really had to stop playing with grown men, they wasted away their old nights playing poker at this very table and she had other, young people things to do. It would be wise to get up and leave, no one would judge her for that. They would maybe even cheer her on, finally making a rational decision, no one ever seen that before when it came to her. Yet the thought of doing so was being blocked by a high indestructable wall, one that never goes away and will only be built higher.

If she does leave, she has to go home.

Her mother is probably fast asleep already, it is possible she could go to bed unnoticed and leave early in the morning. This option she used very little as Y/N never wanted to come back there. A year ago, after her mother left her blood soak through the wooden floor, Y/N made promise into her scars that she will never lay eyes on mother again. She successed in that for a year so far, becoming a hitman that was quite infamous in town. But her fame started growing from mockery, as she was really addicted to poker.

Her eyes gazed on Tim, the cemetary worker, the buryer as she liked to call him. He was one of the granpas at this table, but one of the peaceful people in town. He never wanted her to kill, just to help him with his work, although Y/N hated it more than the murders, she didn't like the aftermath of her work. Tim, being satisfied, started organizing the coins on the table. No, she cannot go home tonight.

"So what's it gonna be, kid?" asked the other player, Miyka. Her green eyes stared on Y/N's face, her wrinkles scrunched in excitment. Oh, how she hated all of them. The girl faked thinking about it before tossing dramatically her last money onto the table. "I bet 20." It didn't sound as good when she started that low, but it was all she had left. Intstead of the usual giggle and witty lines and jokes they threw her way before following up on her bad choices, they sighed, almost in dissapointment. It frustrated her, it seemed like they cared what she does instead of what amount of money she holds. It seemed like they cared about her. A wave of fear pushed her like a tsunami at this thought. People that cared ended up hating her, hurting her.

"What!" she snapped. Miyka looked at Lios, her brother, in concern, while Tim silently reorganized his coins. She looked around the table, frown getting deeper and frustration blooming wider. What was wrong with them. "Well, Y/N" Lios began, "We are just kinda...worried about you. That's all." Miyka took the word next- her previous question has been an obvious tease, the girl was dissapointed. "You clearly have nowhere to go, so you are spending your time here which is.... we get it, but." She sighed, trying to find the right words. "It's not good." Tim helped her and smiled at Y/N as if it would calm her. It did not in fact, she felt more and more anxious about their care, anxious situations made her angry. She wondered why she didn't kill them all instead of those free targets, she would never have to pay another debt again, because there would be no poker players left to play and her addiction would dissapear. "So that's it, huh? You ain't gonna play because you are scared I could actually win?" she said in her defense. Nonsense, she knew, but her heart was sweating and she was glad it didn't blow up yet. "We just care, Y/N, that-"

"Care?! Remind me Lios of just how many people I killed for you, then talk about caring for someone's life!" she spat as she stood up. Lios was more than content to her way of paying, she had no idea why he apparently cared when he could have another enemy at his feet if he just played one more game. Miyka tried to calm her down, touching her hand softly only for Y/N to flinch, hard. Her vision began to blur, the floor shook beneath her and sweat poured on her face. It was like the room was on fire, but she was the only one feeling it. Other people at the pub, being entertainted by the game or simply just hanging ot there, looked worried, some even disturbed by her behaviour.

What was happening to her?

She leaned on the table with her palms, the wood trying to ground her as she closed her eyes to not feel theirs. Voices of the players echoed her head as sounds in a cave and they felt distant, but still could make her more nervous with their caring attitude. They soon fell in whispers, driving her insane. Then, she caught one voice that silenced all the muttering, it was clear, quiet yet she felt as if its breath was in her ear. "Why play, when you can take a life for the exact amount of money laying on this table?"

She recognized the voice, it belong to the fourth player, Haltt. His voice was known only in the game. Hearing him say a sentence was unusual and therefore very powerful. It was deep, low, hard. It had authority and respect and it didn't need to ask for it. He had everyone's attention, he controlled the room with only his silent voice.

Y/N's eyes looked into his dark ones, she had to find them in the shadows floating around him, as if he commanded to them as well. "What are you saying?" she asked carefully, not knowing why. Haltt observed the table, his salt-and-pepper- although more salt than pepper- short beard surrounding his mouth as it counted the cash, then let out a little chuckle that brought goosebumps to everyone close to him. "920 Neredi. Being a hitman, a respectful hitman, would make this amount your pocket change." He grabbed the rest of her money she threw on the table and looked over to Tim. The buryer shook his head hesitantly, knowing what Haltt wants to do, but all it took was the man's neutral gaze for Tim to fold. Y/N watched him slowly scooping the money and anger took over. She pinned his hand to the table, not looking away from his face. She could hear people drawing breaths in fear, but she was free from all the anxiety now, she was grounded by his scary presence, she liked it even.

Haltt's head slowly turned to her direction, his eyes creating a straight path to hers, his eyebrows climbing up as he said softly: " You want this?" When she didn't respond, he stood up, took her hand off of his gently, not letting go as his freed hand reached behind his back, pulling out a gun. She observed quickly, it was an older model, it was small and only one bullet fit into it- however she knew a man like Haltt would only ever need one bullet- he then rotated her hand and placed it in her palm. He released her only when she seized it. Y/N let her hand warm the handle before looking up at Haltt again. "Then go make it." he finished his statement and sat back down in the shadows. Y/N checked the inside of the gun and she confirmed her knowledge about it.

She scoffed. "One bullet" Haltt nodded as if he answered to her statement. "That's all you need, I know your skills." his glass clincked when his rings touched it, raising it to his lips. She waited until he drank the remainings of his whiskey, having the suspision he might continue. "You kill the target, you'll get double of this." Her surprise was voiced by everyone around her, gasping and unbelievably whispering. Lios looked at Haltt, telling him he cannot do this. But Haltt only looked at her. "No one here wants you to play. You made them care, something a hitman shouldn't do." She squeezed her free hand into a fist, knowing his eyes are reading her like cards on the table. He leaned in: "Take your reputation back, make them fear you instead." he said quietly and it seemed only she heard it. He retreated back into his seat, letting her simmer in his words.

She knew people stopped perceiving her as a threat, a force to be reckon with, a fearful killer, and started to look at her as a 15 year old that sometimes threw tantrums. People smiled at her, old men laughed at her when they drank beer at the bar, as if she was their granddaughter doing silly things. Once, she was feared, but now she behaved like an old woman trapped inside a teenage body with gambling addiction and alcoholism. Everyone treated her as a kid she never was, but Haltt seemed to remember who she was 6 months ago, to trust her potential, her skills she never lost, but used them to not drown in debts, not to her job. She suddenly became so connected to him, she was hypnotized. The sound of the chatty room blurred again as she explored the gray ocean behind Haltt's eyes. He let her, grinning as he watched her back straighten and her nose breathing in deeply. Then came the question:

"Who is the target?"

Halt's smile stabbed through his cheeks as he answered.

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

Inej didn't allow herself a break until she got the that exact building Y/N told her to. She was nervous to say the least. If everything goes right, Pekka Rollins will be dead. It was unbelievable to even think about. The moonlight caressed her back and the salty wind danced around her in excitment. Ketterdam is cheering for them, it will be better off without Rollins. She thought of ways how to carve his heart out, she wanted to make a heart-shaped hole, but it was too complicated making the curves, it would take too long and she didn't want him to die before she was finished. She needed something quick, but symbolic. After all, when the stadwatch will find his body, her work should be admired. Or Deln's work, she hated he will take credit for it, but it's definitely for the best.

Soon, the spider heard two sets of footsteps beneath her. She looked down carefully, confirming it's Y/N. In the dark, she couldn't much see her 'friend', but she could feel the disgust and fear Y/N had from above, suspecting he might not be an actual friend after all. Another secret of hers she wished to uncover after this is over. The way Jesper talked about this girl is riling up an interest in her. She wanted to get to know her better, her fate might not much differ from her own and she would like to hear her story, she would like to see why Kaz seemed to hate her so much. She also hoped Y/N will stay with them after this. For Jesper's sake and maybe for Nina's nerves as she looked worried about her.

As Y/N dissapeared into the alley, Inej grabbed her knife, Sankt Petyr, that she sharpened moments before. The wind picked up and she stood motionlessly at the edge of the building. She watched lightened windows in the Smeet Residence, hoping no one will think about looking outside tonight. The house reminded her of one she encountered at the southern colonies of Novyi Zem. It was in a horrible shape compared to this, but it was a haven for the citizens there, they admired it like people in Ketterdam admire The Exchange. It was luxurious given the state of the land.

Her train of thought stopped before it reached a station, because her ears picked up a subtle voice, then a laugh. The sounds got louder as they slowly approached her. Rollins must be pretty nervous of the meet-up if he talked to himself, or he was not alone. A slight panic rose in Inej's chest and she prepared to make the uninvited dissapear. If Rollins truly had some company, she would have to wait until he saw Y/N to take it out, otherwise he might see her and change his mind. If we won't do it, somebody else will brought out fire in her stomach. The girl was right, if they won't try the lovely dessert of revenge, others might eat it whole with no crumbs left. She suspected Pekka is the main character in many unfinished death threats and planned out vengeances.

The Wraith took a deep breath as her eyes closed, slowing down her rapid heartbeat filled with excitment. When she opened them, the bright windows from the residence, along with the dimmed lights on the streets aluminated two beings walking. One was definitely the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in Ketterdam.

And so was the other one.

She silently gasped, panicking again, her heartbeat picking up. What the fuck is Kaz doing here? And why was he bent over with Rollins' hand around his neck. Even though they were right across her, Inej was oblivious to their conversation- well, monologue if she was more accurate- because she was way too busy feeling the plan fall apart. This wasn't supposed to happen, Kaz was meant to know nothing and then just cheer and celebrate once they'd be done. Why did he always took matters into his hands?.

When she came back to reality, they were almost in the alleyway. The spider quickly followed them, never taking her eyes off of Kaz's helpless form. Her hands always gently grazed any surface she incountered, her feet always landing on the tips of her toes, her moves inspiring every ballerina in Kerch, yet now her hands were sliding off roughly and she had to bent her knees to make the landing silent. Her fear of her friend manipulated her body and she almost fell over the edge when the sharp turn of the building made an appearance, luckily she awokened from the feeling and stopped herself.

She was above the meeting place now.

On her right was Y/N with the strange man. Y/N was anxiously pacing around, obviously worried as they all were, even the man next to her who stood still as a pole was taking almost unseeable shuttered breaths. When the girl faced her direction, Inej wanted to warn her of the unexpected turn of events, but she wouldn't be seen anyway. As it turned out though, she also wouldn't have the time to catch her attention in time as the target slowly showed up on her left side, Kaz still in his grasp. Up close she could see the knife he held to his neck, already cut into the flesh. The man on her right stopped breathing and tried to hide his widened eyes, Rollins smirked as he saw him, shaking his head in disbelief. But the tension really sparked up when Y/N finally saw them, her eyes instantly digging into Kaz, while his were already screaming at her. Only two words bound them all together as they appeared on every present mind.

Oh fuck.

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

Silence started perhaps being uncomfortable for Deln, yet Y/N only cared about the boy 5 meters in front of her. He wore blood, a lot of blood. His face showed bruises for every Barrel rat and every drop of blood that fell next to his feet tore a piece of her heart. But the worst thing was his expression, it was no longer hateful, nor angry. His eyes sinked into her and they washed her with almost a relief-like feeling, like he was happy to see her, or maybe upset to see her here, in a dangerous street that will be painted red by more than one person. His gaze was soft, almost pleading her to either run away or get closer to him.

He was worried.

"I told you to come alone if my memory is still serving right." Deln began the conversation, dragging both of their attention to him. He earned a chuckle from Rollins and a response as he squeezed Kaz's neck, straightening him up: "Well, I thought I might get the lovebirds back together, eh?" The knife retreated back to his pocket, revealing a red line on the boy's neck. Y/N allowed herself to let one tear roll down her cheek as an apology to him. Pekka must have kidnapped him, because there was no other explanation on why was he present. Deln was confused, he didn't know Dirtyhands as far as she knew, nor about her time with Hertzoon. "Aw, look at 'em, already pining for each other." Rollins mocked and pushed Kaz off of his hand. Y/N had a hard time keeping it together.

Deln sighed annoyingly and the hitman was glad he kept the plan on track. It was hard to admit he was actually a big help to her. "Whatever, let's talk business shall we? It's cold tonight. Don't wanna be out late." he said offered and Rollins laughed in his face again: "What, gotta read the slaves a goodnight story?" If she wasn't still in shock from Kaz, the plan would skip to the killing part very quickly. "Well, not anymore since you took 'em all away, didn't you." the slaver stated and wiped the smile off of Pekka's face quickly. Y/N had to admit he played the role she made for him perfectly and let the conversation rest in his hands, as she continued to worry silently about the bloodied boy.

The Dime Lions' leader seemed to get upset about Deln's forwardness, he probably thought he could talk his way out of it with his disturbing charm. He put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "It ain't my problem you keep 'em in a dirty warehouse. I offered them a room with a comfortable bed and good money if they were willing to smile. That ain't no crime, lad."

"I'm not interested in your architectural opinion on my slave-keeping. I am upset you stole my property." Y/N was very invested in the conversation she almost forgot her role was against Deln. Her tied hands turned him to her side by the shoulder and pierced him with her eyes. "Don't speak of them like that." she warned and he simpy scoffed her off. It wasn't much, she must admit, but it was enough to voice her stand in this matter. "HA! And what do you think you'll be after we're done here? You will be lucky if I allow you to work in my brothel." the last sentence was a warning, he could be so much cruel to her, like he was in his house. She was present finally, all worry stepped aside to make space for the anger she held and the focus she held earlier tonight sat back down on her mind.

"You won't touch her."

Ready to speak, Y/N was taken aback by his raspy voice with scary undertone. He spoke to her like that, not long ago. It was almost unreal he was defending her. As much as it brought shivers down her body, Rollins was unfazed by the threat. "You can barely stand, boy. What can you possibly do to me." he stated the obvious and continued once he looked her way again. "Besides, she really isn't worthy of your protection." He put one foot in front of the other slowly, walking over to her. She was on alert, if she had the opportunity, she wouldn't wait anymore and strangle him with her tired hands and her desire to dig his grave. He stopped few steps from her and reached into his pocket again, pulling out something else than a knife this time. "Lost this?"

A thin, almost not visible in the dark, black string was held between his fingers. The bracelet she lost. The one Kaz gave her on the last day they saw each other. She lost it in Rollins' office. Her temptation to reach for it was unseen by Y/N as her first instinct was to look at Kaz, who also drowned in the vision of the string. She broke her promise, a childish one, sure, but it destroyed her still. It always served as a reminder of her failure. How she failed to warn him and Jordie, how she wrapped his heart around her finger without knowing it and allowed Hertzoon to shatter it. The girl promised herself to not mess up this promise, at least one thing she could keep. In the end, she lost it too.

How does she deserve to live after destroying all good in her life?

"Yeah, cruel isn't she? Do you really think she cares about you, or anyone for that matter?" he talked to Kaz that was still mesmerized by the sight in Rollins' hand. Deln was silently watching the scene, the situation out of his hands now, the plan off of track. "You don't know anything about her, boy-". " You're wrong." she interrupted him. He turned to her, waiting to elaborate, the string still lifted between his fingers as if he was trying to hypnotize them. "I told him everything." Y/N continued as she silently wished with the last bit of hope he would take the bait. He didn't:

"Everything, eh?" he echoed as he turned his back on her and focused on Kaz fully. As he reached his personal space, his hand streched to him, giving him the bracelet. The boy fixated on it, swaying with the wind due to his trouble standing on the one good leg for this long. Rollins watched him closely, feeling Kaz's hand taking it almost immediately. When his coffee-like eyes reached his snake ones, Pekka uncovered Y/N's lie:

"Do you remember Ms. Hertzoon?"

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

"...You what?"

"Don't you dare be offended, you manipulated her and then left us. You're as bad as I am."

That made them punch her strongly in the stomach. Funny, Rollins wanted to watch her suffer, but was too lazy to torture her himself. They were on this for 2 hours now, or she at least thought so, she couldn't tell if the ringing was only in her ears. Rollins had her sit on a chair and then asked questions. The first were stupid and simple, almost like a small talk: Did she rob him, why is she back, when did she get back, etc. She earned 5 different punches in this round. Then the latter began. They wanted to know what happened after the con trick- as he called it- which resulted in her split lip and first blood drawn. Then another small talk, remembering all their time together and then, the truth. "Where is your mother?" it began and ended in countless of other painful things she couldn't be bothered to remember.

"How." he almost whispered, it was so dramatic that Y/N would laugh if she wasn't wheezing with every breath. "Oh, please. Like you care." she fully expected the hit for that one, though it still hurt like hell. "How!" he ordered her and watched her grow a grin with her painted-red mouth. She could still feel the little gun in her little hand, standing at the foot of her mother's bed. She watched her sleep for a moment before she truly aimed. Haltt was right, it did get back her reputation. He gave her the money and she counted every single coin to make sure it really was doubled. Fortunately, he was an honest man.

"One bullet was all it took."

To say she regretted it would be a lie, the biggest one in history maybe. She second-guessed it on her way home, sure, but she more doubted Haltt's promise than her actions. However, once she really saw her mother's chest rise and fall, nothing was easier than to pull the trigger. If she was a monster in her eyes, she would become one in her memory.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" was the last thing she heard from him, then her ears were filled with ringing and also pain when her nerves couldn't take it anymore. Everything went dark after a while, she was sure she couldn't breath and her eyes zipped themselves tightly, but even though she lost consciousness, she was sure she never stopped smiling while it lasted.

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

He always suspected some part of her story was left out, it would be unwise to tell him everything and she was not stupid. While Kaz did predict that something happened with the mother, he didn't expect this. He answered her eyes as they asked for connection and tried to assure them of his unchanged opinion. So what? He also done horrible things, they all have, especially Rollins. Such a hypocrite, that man. When he finished re-telling the story of Y/N's torture, he retreated from the boy's space, fortunately for him, because Kaz would have no hesitation in twisting Pekka's neck. Everything was silent for a while, the wind whispered cold around them as they all studied each other. Kaz looked at the building's roof next to them, seeing only darkness, but feeling her presence. He hoped that whatever Y/N planned to do with Inej would be useful. And what did he know, maybe this situation is going extremely well for them.

"Well, that is truly shocking, but unfortunetely, Y/N's dead mom won't solve this conflict. So let's solve it ourselves, shall we?" The slaver spoke and grabbed the girl next to him by the bicep, dragging her with him closer to Rollins. Kaz took a small, unnecessary step forward as a move to help her. Seeing Deln's hand on her made the water rise around him, he could feel her discomfort and felt it himself. They stopped and he threw the girl in front of him lightly, so she wouldn't fall, but aggressively enough, so she would sway. "Pay me for the slaves and she's yours, as promised." the boy's fist turned white at that, wishing he could hang Deln's organs at the lamppost. "Hmmm" groaned Rollins in thinking. "How much do ya want?"

"3000 kruge."

"Pardon?"

Deln rolled his eyes. "It was 100 slaves you stole from me, every slave is expensive and believe me, I'm giving you a discount right now." Rollins nodded at his explanation. At this point, Kaz thought about getting out of there. He was being ignored and would be forgotten in a while. Rollins couldn't see him, Deln could, but he doubted he would care. However, she could too, and his heart radiated an unfamiliar feeling at the thought of dissapearing without Y/N. If this situation happened with anyone else, he'd be already at the Slat, drinking shots and drowning in silence of his room. Dirtyhands planned the escape, Kaz refused to go through with it. He refused to leave her. "Alright, alright. How about this." Rollins spoke his thoughts. "I'll give you half of what they make me from now on and if you ever wander in the Sweet Shop, you won't have to pay." Deln was silent, but he was clearly concidering it.

"Huh? Sounds good?" Smiling Pekka streched out his hand and waited for a handshake. Every set of eyes watched Deln's movement, from his step closer, closer to Rollins, closer to Y/N, until he squeezed Pekka's hand, reflecting his expression. "That's a deal, then." said the robber. "Deal." said the slaver. Kaz didn't know what that meant and from the girl's face, he could tell the confusion was shared. Although, he truly realized this wasn't part of their plan after Deln quickly reached for Y/N's belt with the same hand that just closed a deal, pulling out a small gun, one that could barely fit a bullet, and aiming it at the hitman. She was frightened, taking steps back, but she didn't got very far when Deln grabbed her by the collar, holding her close to his body.

"Like mother like daughter."

He was instantly on the move, as fast as he could, trying to prevent what was about to happen. The bullet was faster though. Before hearing the gunshot, they heard Deln's scream. Y/N felt to the ground and Kaz was at her side immediately. His eyes panicking, trying to find the wound while his heart sounded the alarms and awakened fear. Not like this. He couldn't lose her like this. He soon found the gunshot and without thinking threw his hands to press it down. They never made contact with it, Rollins' knife already found its way back to his neck, pulling him away from her. "You didn't think I forgot about you, did ya?" he laughed in his ear before Kaz threw his head back, hitting him in the nose. The grip got loose and he turned around, sending his anger and frustration in his fist. Rollins tumbled and he kicked him on the ground, getting him closer to the place he belongs.

Deln moaned in pain and the boy finally saw the reason. Below his bent over form, a puddle of blood formed and in it swam his thumb, right above Sankt Petyr. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit, he couldn't remember how did he survive all this time without Inej watching over him and the crows, it made him grateful she is back for now. His eyes were set to find Y/N again, but he only saw a red trace from where she laid. She must've gotten away. Good girl.

He couldn't follow her steps, because Rollins already got up from the cobblestones, ready to strike. He breathed heavily, supporting the place Kaz kicked him in with his hand. He couldn't understand why Rollins always came back into his life. He tried to avoid him all his time in Ketterdam, yet life always brought them together. Or death, he wasn't sure, maybe they were destined to destroy each other. Pekka Rollins was like a mosquito bite: itching to be noticed and when Kaz does so, he feels a brief satisfaction before the itch comes back and is worse than before. He was also as annoying. It needed to be finished right here and tonight

The boy braced himself and waited on the mosquito's move, straightening himself. Little did he know, the shadow from above already closed in on the man. Kaz watched as she kicked his knee from the back and caught his hair, stopping him from falling fully on the ground again. Sankta Lizabeta could be soon visible above his heart, the tip waiting to be pushed in. Only then, Dirtyhands quietly sighed in relief.

"He still can't do it without ya, huh? Tell me boy, when will you start being a man and do things on your own?" Rollins mocked them as he recognized the face, which currently held the future of his heartbeat. Kaz limped slowly closer, feeling Inej's eyes on him. He lowered his head once he entered Pekka's personal space dangerously deep. "When my brother will get his revenge in hell."

As soon as the menacing words reached Rollins, his lips twitched up at the sight of Sankta Lizabeta slowly painting an imaginery outline of the man's heart, being applauded by his blood-curling scream. Inej wasn't the one for torture, but he could see the bit of joy in her eyes and the relief on her face. She deserved to be the one that would free Ketterdam from this parasite and he let her have it, already searching for the bloody trail Y/N left behind.

His eyes alerted him when they caught it and he began to follow the path, slowly, limping as Deln's whines cheered him on.

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

The stars were with her, sometimes changing their position or widening in her eyes as they waited to claim her. Salty waterdrops tapped her tired legs, reminding her of where she sat. She imagined death many times, it wasn't unusual for someone in her profession. She remembered Tim talking about the peace that comes with it, saying it is kind, so it would be easier for the soul to leave the body. For her, it was obvious. Everything would be kinder than life. However, nothing could prepare her for the last moments. Y/N realized that no matter how much you imagine it, it will always surprise you. The knowing that this is the last time she is going to exist in wasn't something her brain could comprehend. Maybe that was the mystery death held, that was the fuel for the fear in others, not understanding until it was too late.

Wind played softly with her hair while it kissed the bruises of her now untied hands, and she tried hard to feel everything at the same time. The clothes touching her skin, the numbness in her feet, her shaky breath as it entered and left her system, but mostly, she tried to memorize the pain in her stomache and the bullet inside her body. It was an intense feeling, so she wanted to feel it as much as possible, before it would fade and with it her heart.

The hitman got hit.

This is how her victims probably felt. She brought this feeling to numerous lives. Her mother felt this way too. Y/N couldn't decide if dying felt good or disgusting, but she could be certain it was lonely. Even if people surrounded her, it wouldn't be better. It was an experience for her soul, no one from the outside could empathize.

She wondered where her grave would lay as the slow footsteps got closer. Y/N heard him limp next to her and it seemed like the stars noticed him too, because they stopped moving once he sat down, as though they only wanted to be seen by her. He was visibly tired, still bleeding from his neck.

Maybe he was feeling the final presence too.

Maybe her starts would take them both.

Silence and the waves crashing made the space between them comfortable, maybe too comfortable for her liking. His breath was disrupting hers as it naturally tried to match the rhythm. The moment became so peaceful, she almost forgot about their history. It felt like nothing happened between them, they were just kids, sitting by the port, watching stars and listening to the ocean. They weren't Dirtyhands and Saskia. They weren't the Bastard of the Barell and Snowflake.

They were Y/N and Kaz. As they were always meant to be.

"Do you believe in faith?"

It felt like yesterday since he asked her that question. Every shared memory of them felt so close to her now, as if time was all messed up. Maybe death was already doing its job. Kaz was taking his time with the answer, breathing heavily, as if the air had to fill his words first before she could hear them.

"Yes...I do."

He exhaled, his low empty voice responding. Her lips lifted into a messy smile, her muscles were losing their power all over her body, but that didn't stop her from reaching into her coat and pulling out a folded, bloodied paper that her fingers swiftly grabbed from her slaver's back pocket before he could shoot her. It was almost bizzare, how a small, easily rippable piece made her revisit the demons of the past. She wondered if Deln wanted this all along. Maybe he wanted Rollins to kill her, so he could make his deal with him. Or maybe it was just faith, wanting to see how far she would go for a false sense of freedom.

"It doesn't mean anything." Y/N stated as she felt Kaz looking at the release paper. "I just needed proof that I'm not under anyone's influence anymore, but..." her eyes followed the ongoing waves. They looked like on a leash, as if someone released them, so they could explode onto the harbor's walls, only to pull them back again shortly after, reminding them they were still being controlled. It seemed torturous, humiliating. It looked like her. "...I will never be free of him."

Y/N couldn't look at the boy, even if his burning gaze could only be extinguished by an eye contact. He was right, she was a monster. She could see it now and she wouldn't hide from this fact. She would accept herself before her heart would stop singing. It was the least she could do with the very limited time, coming to terms with her own self.

The stars started moving again slowly as Kaz spoke: "He can't control you anymore..." His tone showed certainty. Inej had to claim her souvenir of revenge by now, but he still managed to squeeze out a scoff from the hitman. She couldn't believe he allowed himself to be so naïve. Rainbow won't repair the damage done by storm, same as killing Pekka Rollins won't erase his actions and the following conciquences. His influence made her do things beyond his leadership. It scarred her for life, and those scars bled onto others without the possibility to heal. She bled on him too. She killed his brother for fuck's sake.

"The things he caused precedes him." Y/N finally looked at Kaz, his eyes seemed to be glowing in her hallucinating mind. "I can't be changed." She whispered, knowing he would hear every single letter. The moon illuminated him perfectly. His features casted a soft look under its light and Y/N was glad this would be the appearence of him she would take to her grave. She was happy to become one of the stars that would continue to shine on him.

Suddenly, death seemed very pretty.

The girl saw his hand on hers before she could feel it. It was weirdly warm, even though he barely touched her. His eyes demanded her ears' attention as he spoke, slowly, so she could feel the words. "You don't need to be changed."

Her mind was confused. How could he even speak such things?

"I am a killer." she reminded him.

"Not by choice." he argued.

"I killed my own mother and enjoyed it." she was restless in making him hate her.

"Your mother's conciquences of her own actions." he dodged her attempt.

"I killed your brother." was when she knew she would win. It wasn't excusable. Nothing could possibly erase this from Kaz's mind, no apology was enough, she was certain. That was the reason she couldn't understand why Kaz's hand began to hold hers more tightly as his eyes studied the wound in her stomache, covered by her arm that desperately tried to prevent the blood from pouring out, but it became more and more hopeless. "You're dying and not doing anything about it." he aknowleged. Y/N smiled briefly, from pain and also from his slow understanding of her plan.

"I deserve it." she spoke weakly, every word felt heavy on her tongue and she was about to give in to their weight. He only observed her, as her body was slowly losing the ability to move, as her energy was being sipped by the waves below. It suddenly felt a bit scary for her, she was in the process of dying and it strangely ignited the last bit of her will to live.

Kaz did nothing, he only asked: "Why?" She looked at him, her eyes shooting fear. She guessed she would engage with every emotion before turning off. Maybe the nature granted this privilege to every person, so they would get to have the proper goodbye to their body.

"I never done anything good, I only brought pain." her lips responded, making Kaz nod slowly. Y/N gasped softly as the fear intensified. This feeling was unlike any before, like her life was slowly slipping through her body, through the wound. Her arm pressed tightly, as much as she could to slow down the inevitable, but it was too late. "Maybe it's time to change that." Kaz spoke. She wouldn't be able to change her ways if she died, the only thing she would remember about this life was how she made it difficult for everyone else.

Y/N sighed, death was almost touching her, heart was losing its music. She no longer felt the waterdrops on her legs and the stars dimmed their light. "It's too late."

The port beneath her began to sway, as if it would tip over to the ocean anytime. She gripped the concrete edge, slipping her hand from Kaz's to do so, trying to stop it from moving, only for it to sway more. She picked her eyes up at the sky, seeing only her five stars in the black treacle sky, as her body pushed closer to the waves.

Death awaited her.

Like those waves, Y/N was suddenly pulled back by someone's hands, feeling her body lift up from the port, supported in the air. Her form bounced with every other step and another warm breath kept mixing with hers. She imagined those arms were of an angel, bringing her to heaven. Or a devil, bringing her to hell. She gave into its touch nonetheless.

"I know you're not very good at keeping them, but would you promise me one last thing?" a voice asked her, a low and a tired one. One that could only belong to an angel the way it kept her dying heart beating. The girl could only hum, agreeing to the angel's request. The voice sounded serious, threatening almost, but she could hear the worry hidden behind it, as it spoke.

"Don't make me lose you."

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Nina whined, having trouble with breathing as her hands shook from the need to be put down. She saved the Dregs numerous times from a certain death, yet Y/N exceeded her expectations. The heartender tried her very best to wake her heart up, while Jesper and Wylan panicked to pull out the bullet and seize the wound, so no more blood would be lost. What wasn't helpful, though, was Brekker, constantly yelling at them for trying harder. She understood that his anger was powered by the fear for that girl, but that didn't put out the urge to fill his face with more wounds, maybe a broken nose even.

"I swear, Nina. If she dies.." he exclaimed again, not helping the situation in any way.

"It will be on you!" Nina barked at him, frustration clearly visible not only on her tone, but her tired features. Her eyes shot to Jesper and Wylan an apologizing look as she saw their hands bloodied and faces worried. The door swinged open behind her, revealing Inej. Nina felt relief wash over her as she saw her. Kaz would maybe stop being such an asshole in her presence.

"Is she breathing?" Inej asked and immediately moved to Y/N's lying form, putting her cheek above her nose. "Barely." Wylan answered stressfully. Kaz's worry shifted to fear, Nina could sense that, even when her full focus was on the hitman's weak heart. She was barely alive, but the heartender was still surprised it could beat. She was strong and Nina hoped she would continue to fight.

Jesper gasped heavily and looked at her. "The wound's sealed!" he sounded so hopeful and it brought Nina some strenght to see him like this. She had to take quick breaths before tightening her hands in the air one more time, fastening Y/N's heartbeat. Fortunetely, it worked. "She's breathing again!" Inej said with a small smile, causing Kaz to limp closer to see for himself. His own wounds weren't yet treated, but Nina didn't even try to convince him. He had trouble looking after himself when one of them was hurt, she could imagine how much worse it was in this case, where his heartbeat's fire was on the brink of death.

She could feel the heartbeat pick up to a slow pace. It wasn't yet normal, but at least she didn't have to control it now. Nina put her hands down and fell down on an armchair beside her. Everyone in the room fell victims to exhaustion, Nina closed her eyes for a moment, just focusing on her breathing. Wylan was the first to stand up and slowly make his way out of the room with the words she'll be alright, Nina, you did a great job. Jesper followed, squeezing Nina's shoulder and nodding shortly at Kaz, before the door closed after him too.

"You either let me treat your wounds or you will go and get some sleep." she offered to the man, her eyes fixated on Y/N. She was glad he, at least, wrapped his neck in a bandage during this hard time, but he had other quite serious wounds she had to treat sooner or later. Kaz allowed himself to be predictable as he stared at the hitman and then slowly limped out of the room. Before he did though, he surprised her after all.

"Thank you."

Nina's head snapped his way and watched him leave, she didn't expect that. Inej sat next to her on the armrest, following her eyes to the laying girl. "You should rest as well, I know how tired you are." the heartender studied her features with a caring look. Her friend fought the sleep well so far, which she hated to see. "I'm not leaving you alone." the spider said with a decisive eyes connecting with hers. She knew the heartender couldn't sleep herself, as she had to look out for Y/N's heart. Nina flashed a defeated smile. She was grateful for her presence, she missed her a lot, but it would ease her mind if she went to sleep. However, knowing her stubborn mind, she scooted over to the very side, creating a tiny space for Inej to sit, which her friend accepted with a smile.

"Alright then. Tell me how you killed Rollins and DON'T spare any details."

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

#until it doesn't hurt #six of crows wylan #six of crows matthias #six of crows x reader #six of crows inej #six of crows #six of crows kaz #soc kaz #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fluff #kaz and jesper #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x gn!reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker fic #shadow and bone tv show #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone season 2 #s&b #s&b season 2 #s&b netflix #s&b s2 #s&b show #shadowandbone

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

Things Jack and Sally have done at Disneyland

They kissed thrice, even though it isn’t allowed.

Jack picked up Sally and twirled her, all while running from paparazzi.

Jack confessed he’s allergic to pink.

Sally plays pranks on him, such as yelling “Zero!” whenever he’s not there. Jack falls for it every time.

When asked if they work for Mickey Mouse, Jack said no.

Someone proposed to Sally and Jack walked off.

Sally pretended a Jack toy was actually a voodoo doll and he played along with it. He had no idea what to do when she kissed it.

Jack also pretended a Sally toy was a voodoo doll as well, though he spent more time comparing the two.

Jack says he likes the Small World ride because it’s filled with children who want to harvest their souls.

When a little boy dressed up as Jack, he introduced him as the Pumpkin King.

Jack calls sally his “love”, “dear”, “dearest”, etc. He also continuously says he loves her.

Sally hides behind Jack whenever she’s camera shy.

Jack admitted he’s taught a couple courses at Monsters University.

Sources:

(X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X)

#The Nightmare Before Christmas #Jack and Sally #Disneyland #Jack X Sally #Jack Skellington #Nightmare Before Christmas #Tim Burton #Small World #Mickey Mouse #Monsters University #TNBC #Mine #this was made a LONG time ago. im finally going back to my old drafts #when i made this i didnt have the videos on hand so the sources are just what a friend gave me #idk if they have every scene i listed but #the jally disneyland videos are v good anyway <:

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Y/N, The Bartender. Spencer, the FBI agent

In which you are placed under protective custody

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: semi-graphic description of crime scenes, angst fluff, (I wrote this a long time ago and it's bad but I'm looking throughmmy old drafts so...)

You were a bartender.

A bartender that didn't get paid enough to deal with the assholes and creeps that you had to deal with. But, you were very popular.

That meaning, you knew everyone and everyone knew you. Some of the people you didn't necessarily like but, your boss made you be nice.

One afternoon you got to the bar and clocked in. The bar was kinda empty.

Laura and Sara, the other girls you worked with, were supposed to be behind the counter already.

"Maybe they're just im the alley smoking." You whispered to yourself. You smiled at the few day drinkers and headed to the door that lead to the alley.

"Laura? Sara?" You called out.

You walked closer to the dumpster. Your heart sped up when you were getting closer to it, you saw two pairs of heels on four pale feet.

When you turned the corner you saw Laura and Sara. But, they didn't look normal. They had Y/H/C wigs on their heads. Their eyes were open and they had Y/E/C contacts in. They were leaned up against the brick, blood stains all over their clothes and skin.

There was no doubt that they were dead so you screamed. You screamed so loudly that the people from inside the restaurant across the street could hear you.

A few guys from inside the bar rushed out with panicked looks on their faces. Your boss came out last.

Tears ran down your face as you looked down at your dead coworkers.

The police were called and about four hours later a team from the behavioral analysis unit showed up. You were sitting at a bar stool shaking and staring blankly at the large glass of vodka that she'd poured herself.

"Hello, I am doctor Spencer Reid." You looked up slowly and met the eyes of a man who was tall. He had brown hair. You thought he was handsome

"H-hi." You stuttered. You looked back at your glass and took a bjg sip. Dr. Reid looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"I'm from the FBI. I'm here to talk to you about something that we found of one of the victims, Laura's, body." You furrowed your eyebrows with a sad look. Spencer pulled out a piece of paper and started to read it.

"I want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt them. I just wanted to play dress up. I just missed you. I wanted to see you. I mean, it's not like I don't see you everyday. I watched you with him. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I will see you again."

After he was done, he looked up from the paper and you swallowed. A tear ran down your cheek.

"Oh my God. What does that mean? Are they gonna kill me too?"

"No. We're gonna make sure that he doesn't." Spemcer said. "Do you know anyone who might want to? To hurt you, I mean."

You shook your head and downed the rest of your vodka. "No. I-i don't. I talk to like a hundred people everyday." You roll your eyes.

"He said he 'wanted to play dress up." Spencer mumbled. "I will be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Spencer pov

This girl is beautiful.

I'm thinking way to much about her than I should be. Once I get to Hotch I sigh.

"He wanted to play dress up." Hotch nodded. "He made the two girls look like Y/N. It seems like he has an obsession with her." I told him. He kept nodding. "He started every sentence in his letter with 'I'."

"So he's a self absorbed pshyco with an obsession." It was my turn to nod in agreement. "This is bad. She's in real danger here. She needs to be placed under protective service."

"Uh, yeah. Where's Morgan?" I ask lookimg around.

"Not Morgan." I raise my eyebrows. "You."

"But, Hotch, d-don't you think i-i should stay eith you guys? I mean , Morgan seems like a much better option." I try to reason.

"It's you, Reid. And that's final."

~~~~

You and Spencer were walking up to your apartment. Neither of you were talking. It just felt... awkward for some reason.

You shakily pulled out your keys and tried to put them in the hole. You were shaking so badly that you couldn't. Spencer moved and placed his hand on your wrist.

"Uh, may i?" You nodded and he took the keys from you. Just in case the unsub made his way into your apartment, Spencer went in first pulling his gun. You stood in the doorway until he was done checking.

When he came back he took a breath and smiled at you. "Uh, it's clear." You nodded and walked slowly towards your kitchen.

"D-do you want anything to drink?" You asked awkwardly. This was weird. Spencer looked at you and pressed his lips together.

"No. I'm fine."

You took this uncomfortable silence to study him. Spencer was very very attractive. His hair was sort of curly and not to short but not long either. He had a little bit of scruff.

"I'm sorry this is so awkward. I've never done this before." You told Spencer.

"Well, I have. It was actually a famous person." Spencer said with a small smile. You smiled back. You fell into an uncomfortable silence again

"Spencer?" He looked up from his feet. "Why did he kill them?"

"Are you sure you want me to answer that question right now?" Spencer asked. He didn't want to hurt her or anything.

"I guess not." You shook your head. "Um, I'm gonna go take a shower... you can sit wherever you want. I uh, have books everywhere. And a TV- you know? Just do whatever you want."

You blushed from embarrassment and turned into your room.

When you got in your bathroom you took of your pants and took down your hair. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired and like hell. Your shirt with the bar logo on it was littered with tear stains. The pants that you had taken off were laying crumpled im the corner.

Suddenly the bathroom closet door opened and a figure came out. A hand wrapped around your mouth and your eyes went wide. You had no idea who the man was.

"Let's go talk to your new friend shall we?" You immediately started to tear up and tried to scream but he the man pressed his hand harder up against your mouth. With the other hand he pressed a cold knife up against your neck and guided you out of the bathroom.

"So, you like to read-" Spencer stopped what he was saying and immediately drew his gun. He was standing by your bookshelf.

"Let her go." Spencer told him calmly.

"No. She hurt me." The man said.

"I don't even know who you are!" You cried after he took his hand off of your mouth. He pressed the knife further into your skin and you cried out.

"Listen, tell me how she hurt you." Spencer told the man. He lowered his gun to his side and you didn't know why so you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Are you kidding me, man? I see her everyday, talking to other men, she is supposed to be with me! I get her! Me!" The knife broke your skin but didn't go to far. You winced and opened your eyes, looking to see what Spencer was doing.

"You can't have her if she's dead." Spencer tried to reason. The man behind you started to sob but the knife was still held to your throat.

"I didn't mean to hurt her friends. They told me that she didn't like me so, I killed them and I made them look like my sweet, sweet, Y/N" he used his other hand to caress the side of your face. You grimaced and tried to move your face away.

"What's your name?" Spencer asked calmly. The man huffed and rolled his eyes.

"My name is Finn. And I got in." The man giggled. You thought about his major mood swings. "See, I rhymed."

"Yes, that was very nice. Now, I'm gonna tell you again. Let. Y/N. Go." Spencer demanded. He sounded completely calm.

The knife dug further into your skin. "I shouldn't let her live if she's just gonna be a slut for the rest of her life." Finn said aggressively. You squeezed your eyes shut. You had completely forgotten about the fact that you were standing in your living room in you underwear and a t-shirt. That didn't really matter in you mind at that moment.

Anger over took your head and Spencer saw this. He tried to calm you down with a look but you were done at this point. You brought you elbow back into Finn's stomach and he grunted, letting you go. The knife skimmed your throat causing more of the skin to break and a little blood rush to the surface. Spencer held his gun back up in front of him.

Finn swiped his foot underneath yours and you fell to the ground when Finn charged forward, getting ready to stab you in the back Spencer shot him in the wrist and the knife fell to the ground. He groaned in pain as you popped up from the ground and into Spencer's arms. His gun was still drawn as he pushed you behind him.

He slowly walked towards Finn and kicked the knife away with his foot. He pulled out his phone and alerted his team that he had the unsub in custody.

You had to stay on the couch because Finn was laying unconscious in front of your bedroom door. You couldn't change or do anything.

Once Spencer's team was there, JJ a girl from Spencer's team, asked if you were alright. You nodded but your neck was sore. You were given an FBI jacket to wear down to the ambulance outside of your apartment building.

As you sat in the back getting your neck bandaged up, you. Noticed Spencer walking towards you with his hand in his pants pockets. The EMT guy was finished and left you alone to organize his truck. Spencer sat beside you in the back of the ambulance.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Reid. For everything." You sighed.

Spencer chuckled a bit. "Well, it is my job. To protect you, I mean. Well, it's really my job to protect everyone but today that was y-" You cut off Spencer.

"Just, uh, take the thank you." You giggled. Spencer smiled and looked down.

"Anytime, Y/N."

~~~~~

"Spence! Could you call the babysitter? She should be here by now." You called out to your husband while putting on your earrings.

"Yeah." Spence called back.

After that night in the ambulance six years ago, you and Spencer had grown closer. He'd kept in touch with you just to make sure you were okay. After about a few months of calling you check in, you asked him why he did keep checking in.

You smiled as he spoke about the newest book you didn't know anything about. "Hey, Spencer."

Spencer stopped his ranting and hummed in response.

"Why do you still call me after all this time? It been three months." You asked nervously. Spencer took a while to answer which scared you. You knew that you had feelings for him within the first month. You thought he felt the same way.

"Because, I can't imagine not talking to you. I-i mean your voice, your laugh. And you're unbelievably funny. Also, from what I can remember... incredibly pretty."

You felt your mouth dropped open slightly and a blush take over your cheeks. You closed your mouth and smiled widely, letting silence take over the both of you,

"Um, please say something, because that would be really embarrassing if-"

"I think you're incredibly pretty too!" You rushed out, not really thinking. You heard Spencer chuckle on the other line. "Oh, um, not what I meant. I mean, I did mean that but, I like you a lot. And it not that Transperence thing you-"

"Transference." Spencer corrected.

"Right, it not that. I genuinely like you and I hope you do too or all of this rambling would be for nothing." You ended your rant with a big breath.

"I uh, I like you too, Y/N. You should come here. I've missed seeing you in person." Spencer said.

"It's a plan."

"Yeah, she said that she's down the street." Spencer said walking into the bathroom. Tonight was your anniversary. "Whoa! You look... amazing."

You had a velvet navy blue dress on and dimond earrings that Spencer bought you. You had on a pair of navy blue heels and red lipstick along with the rest of your makeup.

You were about to say something but a squeal inturrupted you.

"Mommy! You look so pwetty!!" Your daughter, Marrisa Diana Reid squealed.

"What about daddy? Doesn't he look good?" Spencer said scooping Marrisa up in his arms. You giggled as she squeeled and wiggled in his arms as he played tickle monster with her.

All of the tickling and laughter was cut short when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, I bet that's your babysitter." You dragged out as Spencer put her in your arms. Marrisa's face turned into a frown.

"Noooo! I don't wanna babe sitter! I wanna go wif you and daddy!" She pouted.

As you got to the door you opened it and turned to her. "Really? 'Cause I can tell her to go home..."

"Auntie 'nelope!!" Marrisa screamed as the woman in a pink leather jacket walked through the door. She jumped out of your arms and into Penelope's

"Hi, baby doll!" Penelope squealed.

You and Spencer laughed as Marrisa giggled in Penelope's arms. Penelope looked over at the couple standing and watching them. "You two look sexy! Now get outta here!"

Spencer chuckled and nodded his head. You gave Penelope a list of rules that Marrisa had to follow and then you rushed out of the house.

You were happy with the way your night went. You ate at a fancy restaurant and then you went to a library, skimming through books that looked interesting. Everyone in the library asked you why you were so dressed up and you told them. When you got home you learned that Marrisa was asleep.

Let's just say that you ended your night making a new baby.

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

Ew Idk if I like this or not 😑 but! If you enjoyed it then great! Thanks for reading!

#spencer fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #the bau

[warmau]

☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse 

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal 

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche 

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long 

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin 

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on 

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him. 

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.” 

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust 

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job. 

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment 

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion 

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief 

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is 

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on 

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else. 

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s 

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least. 

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’” 

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little 

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat 

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive 

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment 

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website. 

#listen idk what this is really but im worldbuilding a lot arent i #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #minghao au #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 au #the8 scenarios #the8 imagines #the8 #minghao #seventeen #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #violence/ weapons/

[lxngbottom]

Mistakes That Last Forever. | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville tries to get his life back.

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing (lmk if there are more!)

im crying over this fic PLS

(PART 1)

—

the shower felt wonderful as it collided with your skin. the stress that had been building up from the past week due to seeing neville, and work, was seemingly all being washed away. you could hear neville jr in the living room, muttering small scenarios as he used his imagination to play with his toys.

but, the small peace that your house held was soon disturbed by your house phone ringing. you sighed, hoping that it wasn’t your boss demanding at you turn in that article draft you had promised him.

“mummy! the phone is ringing!” your son called out, and you could hear that he had ran to the bathroom door in order to inform you.

“um—i know!” you replied, “can you be a big boy and answer it for me? just like we talked about?! ask to take a message, okay?”

“okay!”

you heard his hurried footsteps exit the hallway, and you continued your now, limited shower as quickly as you could.

neville jr reached up and picked up the phone, putting it to his ear in excitement. this was the first time you let him use the adult phone, and he couldn’t be more thrilled,

“uh... hello? longbottom—well... y/l/n residence!”

he made an odd face as he realized he has already messed up what you told him to say if someone had ever called.

the person on the other line smiled to himself, hearing that small, fragile voice. he sounded just like he used to when he was younger.

“hi... is your mum there?” neville asked awkwardly, shifting awkwardly in his seat as the realization that he was talking to his son was hitting him.

neville jr crooked his lips as he looked down the hall, “um... she’s in the shower...” he began to try and remember what you had told him to say, “uh—um... merlin... oh!” he finally remembered. “can i take a message for you?”

the boy had such a sweet voice. he was filled with such innocence. the shame of missing out on his son growing up had already hit neville, and he had been in a big slum for the last week due to that.

“yes... can you tell her that neville called? it’s important that she knows...”

neville jr then furrowed his eyebrows, “hey! that’s my name!” he snapped, “i didn’t call my own house!”

neville on the other line chuckled at the boy’s obliviousness, “no! that’s my name, too, lad. i’m—uh... your—“

just as he was about to tell his son the truth, you came stomping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, and your hair as well. you ran over to your son, who was still holding the phone.

“who is it?” you asked, already grabbing the phone from his grasp,

“uh... neville? he has the same name as i do, mum!”

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, and you tried to play it off by sending your son a small smile.

“that’s... nice, sweetheart. but... go play for a few minutes, okay?”

the boy nodded his head, and went right back to the center of the living room, and continued to play with his cars. you glanced over at him, putting the phone up to your ear, hands shaky from anxiety.

“hello?” you started, looking down awkwardly at the numbers on the phone.

“oh... hey, y/n.”

yep. it was neville.

“how did you get my number, longbottom?” you asked in a low whisper, glancing over at your son once more,

neville let out an awkward chuckle, “well... it’s not that hard to get into contact with the journalist of the daily prophet, y/n.” he teased slightly, maybe trying to lighten the mood, “i just need to talk to you.”

you sighed, gritting your teeth slightly, “about what, neville?”

“about... seeing him. seeing both of you. ever since i saw you both last week... i haven’t been sleeping, or eating... i want to make things right. i deserve that, y/n. i need to see my son...”

you knew it was coming, but, you had hoped it would at least be a few more years.

“neville—“

“y/n, i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep walking throughout my life miserable. i know i’ve done awful things to you, and i know there is nothing in this world that i could possibly ever do to make it up to you. but, please... that’s my son. maybe this is my opportunity to do the right thing. an opportunity to get my life back...”

you huffed at his words, “you didn’t even know he existed until a week ago!”

“yeah, because you never told me! you know for a fact that if you would’ve told me the truth, that i would’ve been there for everything! there’s a lot i have to owe up to, but don’t forget that you lied to me! you kept me away from my son for his whole life because you were hurt over a mistake!”

“a mistake that you made, asshole!” you clapped back through teary eyes, “i figured... hey! maybe if neville wants to go back to being an immature teenager and cheat on me, then how in world would he ever be a good father?! i wasn’t even sure that you would even be committed to him, neville! because, you sure weren’t committed to me!”

the tension that radiated through the static on the phone was terrifying. the only thing that could be heard was your small sniffles, and neville’s agitated sighs on the other end. you were so hurt. you had always been so hurt due to what had happened.

“y/n...” neville sighed, “please. just let me make this right. let me make it up to you... and to him. please... i’ll do anything.”

you thought for a moment, considering all of the positives and the negatives of this whole situation. you knew he was right, he did deserve to see his son. but, you didn’t know if that would be the right thing for your son himself.

“fine...” you breathed, “you can come and see him. i’ll send you an owl, soon...”

neville had never felt more relieved.

“thank you. thank you, y/n. i promise i’ll—“

but, you cut him off by slamming the phone back onto the hook. your face fell into the palm of your hand as you let out a small sob, overwhelmed by the sudden old feelings that were rushing back into your veins.

“mummy...”

you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t look at him.

“you’re crying, mum. what’s wrong?” he asked, slowly walking over to you, “was it that man on the phone?”

you finally looked down at him, seeing the worried look etched across his round, chubby face. you crouched down to meet his height, reaching your hand up to caress his face gently. you had always done that, because it was something that you always did to neville when he was worried or sad.

“mummy’s alright, baby... she’s just stressed out. but... i need to talk to you about something, alright?”

that’s when his face became even more worried, “as i in trouble?”

you chuckled through your tears at your son’s overthinking, “no, no, of course not. it’s just... there’s something i haven’t told you...”

“what is it, mum?”

you sighed, finally ready to have the talk.

—

that morning had started off chaotic. it was a mix of you trying to get ready, neville rummaging through his closet in order to find the perfect outfit, as he was a big boy now, and he wanted to get ready all by himself.

“neville longbottom! have you brushed your teeth?!” you yelled from the living room, trying to pick up the small mess of toys that was spread throughout the floor.

neville in his room widened his eyes, realizing that he indeed had not brushed his teeth.

“i’m going to take that as a no!” you yelled, referring to the silence, “go and do it, please! he’ll be here at any minute!”

neville jr was probably just as nervous as you were, as he had subconsciously had always questioned where his father had been, but never asked. but ever since that long conversation the two of you had, he was finally ready to meet him. you on the other hand, felt as if you could throw up at any given moment.

you were only in your bra and underwear as you cleaned, trying your best not to mess up your applied makeup. you ran to your room after you were done, and started going through your closet. you and neville jr would always wake up late, as for some reason, you two loved getting your beauty sleep. the both of you were used to rushing through your shared home, getting ready while doing ten other things at the same time. time management was definitely something you needed to teach him, and maybe even teach yourself.

“mum! i can’t find my socks!” you heard your son call out, his voice shaky.

“um—check in your top drawer, sweetie! there should be a clean pair in there!” you yelled back, slipping on a sun dress and zipping it up in the back. you looked in the mirror, and noticed that you hadn’t even done your hair. it was still wet from the shower you had taken,

“fuck!” you groaned, running to your personal bathroom and grabbing your hairbrush.

“mum! that’s a bad word!”

“i’m sorry! i’m just really stressed out! are you almost ready?”

there was silence for a moment before he responded, “um... yeah?”

he wasn’t ready, of course.

you felt as if you could crack at any moment, but you were trying your best to hold back the tears. maybe this would’ve been a lot easier if you two had actually woken up when you were supposed to.

that’s when the doorbell rang, and your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. you sighed, mentally preparing yourself as you grabbed your flats from your closet, and walked through the house to the front door.

when you arrived, you shakily unlocked it and opened the door.

that’s when you saw him. he held a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a small gift box in the other. he smiled at you, taking in how absolutely ravishing you looked.

“um—come in...” you told him, opening the door. he stepped in, and began to follow you through the house, leading to your living room. “just—ignore the mess, please! we woke up late, and i didn’t have time to clean the kitchen and—“

“hey, hey, hey...” he interrupted you, setting the items down on the couch. “it’s fine, y/n. i understand... no need to explain.”

you looked over at him, and for a moment, you began to get lost in his gentle eyes. neville had always been so patient with you. he never judged you, nor ever would judge you. he knew you from the inside out, and he could tell how stressed out you were in that moment.

“mummy!” you heard, and the two of you whipped your head around to see a struggling smaller neville, trying to get his sweater on over his jumper. you giggled as his head was getting stuck in the hole, “it won’t go on!” he huffed aggressively, his arms flailing around.

you walked over to him, and pulled the sweater vest down over his head easily. he looked at you for a moment, an appreciative smile on his face. but then, he caught a glance at the smiling man that stood just ways away from you. he hid behind your leg, still nervous out his mind.

“neville...” you muttered, trying to get him to not be so shy, “come on...”

he shook his head, now burying his face in the material of your dress.

you looked over at neville, who had a sad look on his face.

“he’s shy... but... he’ll come around.” you reassured the man.

of course he was shy. he was neville longbottom’s son for merlin’s sake.

neville wearily made his way over to the both of you, the gift box now in his hand. he crouched down by your knee, letting your cherry blossom lotion take over his senses.

“this—it’s for you...” he offered, holding the gift box up to the small boy. neville jr peeked his head around your leg, eyeing the color wrapped box. “go on... it’s yours...”

neville jr finally gave in, his childish mind not being to help itself as he reached out, and grabbed the box from his father’s hand. he slowly showed himself, ripping the wrapping up.

he squealed when he finally got it open.

“mum, look!” he held the toy up in his hand, “look how cool!”

you smiled down at your lovely son, “i see it, honey. what do you say?”

neville jr looked up at his dad, batting his eyelashes a few times.

“thank you...”

neville sent him a sweet smile,

“no problem...”

—

the day had been simple. you, neville, and neville jr did nothing but relax, play with toys, talk about your old days at hogwarts, ordered pizza for lunch, and you even made a nice dinner by the time the night had came along. it brought you a feeling of serenity, as this had always been your dream for you and neville.

“can i have a goodnight kiss?” you asked neville jr as you tucked him in. he nodded his head, and pecked your cheek, then settled back into his blanket.

“goodnight, mum...” he told you sweetly,

neville watched as you tucked your son in, glancing around the boy’s room every now and then. he had noticed how much of an amazing mother you were the whole day, but, he would’ve never expected less.

neville jr looked over at the tall man, hiding his face shyly.

“goodnight, daddy...”

the nickname made you look over at neville, who seemed to be in some sort of state of shock. but, he sent the boy a small smile.

“goodnight, nev. get some rest...”

you stood up from your son’s bed, and slowly made your way towards the door.

“will you still be here tomorrow when i wake up?”

the question made you and neville’s head turn, and you were still trying your best to hold it together.

neville wiped his nose awkwardly, “not sure about that one, lad. but, i’ll definitely see you in a couple of days. maybe... you can come to my house and meet my pets, huh? that sound good?”

the question seemed to be aimed towards your son, but just by looking at neville, he seemed to be asking the both of you.

“yeah... that sounds good...” neville jr replied, offering the both of you a weak yawn. he rubbed his eyes, and cuddled into his stuffed toad.

you smiled as you turned the light off, and neville stepped out of the room.

“goodnight, darling. i’ll see you in the morning.”

and with that, you closed his door softly, and began to walk back to the living room.

neville watched as you started to clean up, even at one point offering to help you.

“it’s fine...” you told him as he went to pick up a toy, “i don’t need your help...”

you hadn’t noticed it, but neville definitely had. you were now crying, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pick toys up, and set them into the box that sat beside you. the emotions from today were now taking an affect on you, and as much as you tried to ignore them, your body needed some sort of release.

“y/n...” neville muttered, and you looked over at him, breaking his heart when he saw your eyeliner smudging, “what’s wrong?”

you sighed as you picked the box up, and put it back in its place over the by the couch.

“nothing... just exhausted. i have to get something into my boss for work, and i just—“

“don’t lie to me.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at him, “i’m not—“

“yes, you are. i can tell.” he interjected, walking closer to you. “you can tell me... please tell me.”

you pondered for a moment, wondering if you should actually let the words slip your lips.

“it’s just—“ you began, trying to collect your thoughts. neville gazed at you intently, “it’s just hard seeing you. and... seeing you with him is even worse.”

“why?”

you bit down on your bottom lip, something you had always done when you were trying to hold back tears, “because... i suppose i just thought that—maybe... that would’ve been us. all these years... you would’ve done all the stuff you did with him today everyday. i had always dreamt of us having a family together... but... i just wasn’t good enough for you.”

neville’s breath hitched at your words. he felt his stomach churn with guilt, and sadness as well.

“y/n... you were more than good enough for me. i was just—a fucking git. i was so... stupid for what i did. and, i probably won’t ever be able to make it up to you...”

you chuckled nervously, “well... at least there’s a chance to make it up to him.”

he stepped even closer to you, only a small gap between your nervous bodies. he slowly reached his hand up, and wiped away the single tear that was treading down your cheek. he ran that same hand through your hair, that familiar feeling settling in, ever so present between you both.

“yeah... but something tells me that you want me to make it up to you, as well, y/n...”

his touch was so gracious. it felt so familiar, and you couldn’t help but to fall into it. his thumb caressed your skin, feeling all of the familiar bumps and roughness. he felt as if he collapse, as he was only just now realizing that he was finally touching you again.

“it doesn’t matter what i want, neville. that hasn’t mattered since i had our son. all that matters is him now.”

neville took a beat of silence before responding, his eyes trailing to your lips.

“it does matter.”

that’s when he planted his soft lips upon yours, relishing in the serenity of you.

it was a kiss that was long overdue. a kiss that said so much but nothing all at the same time. oh, how he missed you. and oh... how you missed him so much more.

when you two finally pulled away, his palm still rested against your cheek, and he admired you.

“i’m sorry for everything. but what i said was true... i want my life back. and y/n... you and neville are my life.”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter smut #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n

[iwaisuke]

confessions; but not remembering it

ft. kita shinsuke, sakusa kiyoomi x sick fem!reader

genre: fluff

masterlist

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and then i rushed bc i was getting tired 🙃 also. sakusa's is a little ooc. sorry ab that

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

» the clean yet musty smell of rain filled the gym as the boys practiced. it was a surprisingly humid and rainy spring day today here in the country side of hyogo

» "achoo" you had been sneezing and coughing all day. you also had a terrible headache but took some medicine to see if it would help. the spring allergies really getting to you

» you didnt reay have the time to be worrying about yourself. As a 2nd year manager of the inarizaki team, (recommend by suna) and the boys working so hard practicing for nationals there was no way you'd let this little cold get in the way. you had to work just as hard as everyone else!

» "hold on, im about to hang up your jerseys to dry"

» "i got you guys some fresh towels!"

» "i can run and grab that coach. im headed that way anyways"

» the coach called for a short break to rest up for a bit. everyone was sore and exhausted from practicing every day. "here. i filled your water bottles up!" handing them to all the boys. "y/n you're all wet" akagi sounded concerned.

» "hm? oh its alright. I'll dry off in a minute. i took the shortcut to the drinking fountain to refill your waterbottles instead of taking the long way" you nonchalantly said. "so you ran through the rain like an idiot?" suna threw a clean towel over your damp hair and ruffled it. "suna!! stop!! you're gonna ruin my hair"

» "like i said. its alright" you reassured the boys.

» kita, on the other hand had noticed your fatigue. although he wasnt as perceptive on peoples feeling and thoughts as well as others, he could easily pick up signs like yours. he admired you dearly for how hard you always work for the team. how you willingly did anything to make them smile. how you always put others first before yours. needless to say, he had a bit of a crush on you.

» "l/n san. i think you should take a break too. there's no need for you to be running around for us while we're resting" kita assured you. "i still have a few things left on my list to do.. but afterwards I'll take a break!" kita let out a sigh. you were stubborn sometimes and kita knew you were the kind of person to not stop until you're finished.

» "I'll be right back. i gotta grab the laundry"

» making an excuse to leave, your heart was beating fast. you knew kita's words were the kind he'd say to anyone, but it made your heart feel fuzzy when he'd look out for you.

» the stone cold captain who you thought he was, actually was so kind. he was just a little awkward like you, and a little blunt with what he said sometimes. but you learned the great qualities he carries and how much he actually cares about others well being. he was a hard worker and you couldnt help but absentmindedly fall for the captain.

» running up the stairs to the second floor of the gym, you felt a shift in your step. head becoming dizzier than it was just 5 minutes ago. legs trembling, you started falling before feeling a presence behind.

» kita's arm wrapped around your waist, supporting you in efforts to not letting you fall over. "i told you to rest l/n san" kita said sternly. "you wont benefit anyone if you keep overworking like this."

» you knew kita was right, but you really didnt want to rest knowing you'll be letting the team down by not working hard.

» "i promise I'll rest as soon as im done with this one thing" pleading with kita. he let out a sigh, knowing you really wouldnt until you did finish so he allowed you to do so.

» finishing grabbing all of the dry jerseys and bringing them downstairs to pass out to everyone, you didnt really notice atsumu and osamu spiking volleyballs at each other until aran yelled

» "y/n! watch out!" honestly, you were too tired to move out of the way so you figured, it do be like that sometimes, and allowed the ball to hit you.

» or... so you had planned the ball to hit you.

» kita stood in front, blocking the impact of the spike that you had prepared yourself for. there was agitation in kita's eyes. more than you usually noticed when then twins were miss behaving. concern washing over, he looked you straight in the eyes

» "... is there something wrong kita san?" lifting up his hand to your forehead, he let out a sigh. "why didnt you tell me earlier you had a fever", then walking over to the coach meanwhile atsumu and osamu come over to apologise for being reckless.

» "get your stuff. we're going home" kita said bluntly.

» "huh? but practice is-"

» "please l/n san. for me"

» kita would only take yes for an answer this time. no if's ands or buts. so here you were, walking home with kita. only the sound of raindrops hitting your shared umbrella being heard.

» muscles starting to ache a little more and your legs becoming more tired than they were when you left the gym, you began to walk a little slower every step

» "get on my back l/n" "its ok kita san, i can walk. its already enough that you're walking me home" "i didnt ask if you wanted to. im telling you to"

» you couldnt tell if it was the fever that made your face warmer or if it was kita's words. nonetheless, you got on kita's back. he was a lot stronger than he looked and you couldnt help but stifen at being so close to your own crush like this.

» "relax. I'll make sure you get home." he reassured. you leaned into his back, warmth seeping in, your eyes began to feel heavy.

» "kita san" "yes?" "thank you for always watching out for me"

» a comfortable silence was met as the sound of rain filled your ears.

» "kita san" "hm?" "did you know..." your voice softened "i like you a lot kita san"

» did he hear you correctly? if he wasnt paying attention he wouldve missed what you had said, being drowed out through the pitter patter of water. now his heart thumping louder than ever before.

» "l/n san-" he was about to go on but was met with the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the soft snores of you on his back, knocked out from exertion. kita let out a light chuckle, finally relieved you were resting.

» you had missed the next day of school, but when you came back the whole volleyball team bombarded you with love.

» "WE'RE A FAILURE TO NOT NOTICE YOU FEELING SICK" atsumu cried. "how could we let our one and only precious manager get ill for taking care of us" akagi, clearly dissapointed in himself. "please let us know when we can take care of you too y/n" aran said.

» "its no big deal. really!" waving your hands in defense. "it was just a small cold. but i do have a question though"

» all the boys gathered around to hear what you had to say

» "how did i get home?? i really dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu"

» it shocked the guys honestly. you genuinely didnt remember a single thing due to your fever. "wait? you don't remember kita taking you home?" suna replied, your face becoming red. "k-kita san took me home-?" "yah. he left in the middle of practice to do so" osamu added.

» immediately, you got up to find the captain that apparently took you home the other day. he was in the storage closet cleaning and grabbing the equipment for todays practice.

» "kita san" "oh. l/n. glad you're feeling better" his smile brightened the musty closet. "about that, im sorry for troubling you and having you take me home the other day. i honestly dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu. my mind was really fuzzy that day, but im truly thankful for you going out of your way for me. it really means a lot"

» kita was dumbfounded. you really dont remember? "no need to apologize l/n. it was my responsibility as a captain. and afterall, what good would i be if i couldnt even take care of the person who means the most to me"

» your heart raced. 'person who means the most to me' ? cheeks blushing a rosy pink, you were internally thanking the musty store room from being dim.

» with arms full of equipment, kita walked by you and stopped.

» "by the way l/n san. did you know?"

» ears perking up at the vague yet familiar line

» "i like you a lot too l/n san"

» now we all know sakusa HATES germs and for the past week and a half, he's been telling you to keep up with washing your hands, wearing a mask at all times even when you eat omi it doesnt work like that. pls especially since you are prone to getting sick easily no matter how hygenic you are. your immune system just hated you. PERIODT

» you remembered sakusa scolding you for running out of hand sanitizer and then the next day you were out of commission. bed ridden with laryngitis, cough, slight fever, the whole works. it was like your body was making fun of you or something

» you texted komori, asking him to take notes in class for you and relay homework information while you were at home resting up. but there was one request you had and made komori PROMISE.

» DO NOT TELL SAKUSA YOU GOT SICK

» "he's probably gonna notice your absence y/n. he'll find out about it either way"

» "well if you dont tell him then he wont know. its not like he even cares about where i am like that"

» "thats what you might think. but i know he's gonna say something i can garuntee it"

» the next day at school, sakusa did notice your presence missing. it was quieter not having a 3rd person in the group of friends. not having you around to talk to him when komori was gone.

» pulling out his phone to text you, he asked where you were that day.

» "on a family trip :D !!! forgot to tell you, but I'll tell you all about it when i come back!" you wrote, attaching an old selfie of a different trip you went on to make it more believable.

» you had hoped this silly cold would get better in a day, but soon that day turned into 2 and then 3 and then 4... you pretty much missed the whole week of school at that point

» Friday rolled around and komori was on his phone all day. sakusa noticed his cousin fidget in his chair more than usual and it irked him to see him like that

» "what's with you today?" one eye raised, sakusa finally asked. "uhhh nothing really" komori wasnt very good at keeping secrets lets just start off with that, but he was trying his best.

» "well clearly somethings wrong. you're fidgeting." "well haven't you noticed somethings been different all week?" komori hinted

» sakusa sat there in thought. nothing's been different? he ate the same breakfast he usually does every morning. all his studies have been well. there were no tests this week so there was no reason to be anxious like komori was and even if there was, he would've done well anyways.

» "just tell me what it is." sakusa was starting to get annoyed. "y/n..." komori started. "y/n?" "do you know where she's been this week?"

» did you not tell komori about your family trip? you usually told komori everything, but then again you didn't tell him either until he asked you about it.

» "she said shes on a trip?" he nonchalantly said. komori's eyes started watering. "A TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL THATS WHAT IT IS" he blurted out. komori didnt mean to let it slip , he was just so worried about your well being.

» "hospital?? what are you talking about. did she get injured on her trip?" "no omi. shes been sick all week and her mom just texted me saying she went to the hospital today because shes had a fever for 3 days straight. there is no family trip"

» sakusa's heart shattered. you were sick and didnt even tell him?

» before both he and komori knew it, his legs were running faster to get to the hospital than he had ever imagined he could ever run.

» and there you were. fast asleep in a bed with an IV drip. your face flushed, forehead sweaty and shallow breaths escaping your chapped lips. you were a hot mess but sakusa didnt care. stepping to your bedside to greet your mother she explained to him that she had to go to work and asked if he could watch over you until she gets back.

» sakusa said yes without even hearing the whole thing. his heart and mind saying yes to whatever it took to get you to feel better.

» gosh how he hated hospitals, but what he hated even more was the fact that you were in the hospital and he didnt even know.

» the doctor came in for their evening round and ensured sakusa that you were indeed getting better! your fever had broken not too long ago and your body was working extra hard to heal itself up!

» "is there anything i can do to help?" sakusa asked. he felt helpless in this situation just watching your face distort in uncomfort every now and then, and coughing your lungs out.

» patting sakusa's shoulder, the doctor told him that just being here for you is enough. "you gotta be a strong boyfriend for her alright son? she'll be able to go home tomorrow first thing in the morning if her fever doesnt come back"

» sakusa slumped in his chair at your bedside, the doctors words ringing through his head. 'boyfriend huh?' he thought to himself. "if i was her boyfriend..." he whispered to himself, "i would be a failure for not even knowing my girl was sick..."

» to kiyoomi, you were beautiful. even now in this sad state you were in. deep down he locked these growing feelings he had for you inside of him because he always felt like you were a better match with someone else and after this stunt you pulled of lying to him about going on a family trip, it only made him feel worse.

» it was now night time and you finally began to stir in your sleep, the fever finally gone. sakusa reached out to move some hair that was stuck to your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. your eyes slowly opened and met with his dark orbs.

» "y/n?" "saku- wait this is just a dream. omi wouldn't be here. he hates hospitals" you let out a forced laugh and then a sigh through your sore throat.

» you reached out to sakusa's hands that were resting on the side of your bed. "omi would never let me hold his hand because he'd say im passing germs to him so hopefully dream omi wont be the same" you were aimlessly talking to yourself, not even realizing that this really wasnt a dream.

» he squeezed your hand in return. hoping that you wouldnt let go any time soon. a funny smile appeared on your face just at the thought of him. "even if you're stupid for not realizing how much i like you... i cant wait to see you again omi" you whispered before falling asleep again.

» sakusa didnt know what to do. he sat there frozen in his chair. it was his first time hearing you call him omi. heck. you literally just confessed to the boy. his brain was running wild. groaning in distress he let go of your hand to step out for a breath of fresh air now that you were back asleep.

» it was 5am and your mother came back to the hospital and thanked sakusa for staying by your side. He left in a hurry to make sure you didnt see him there.

» Monday rolled around and sakusa was waiting outside of the school gates for you. he had planned on asking you about your "trip"

» "good morning sakusa!!" your bright and cheery voice rang through his ears. honestly he was trembling inside. the memory of you confessing to him still fresh in his mind.

» "how was your trip?" you stopped dead in your tracks. "haha... it was good !! sorry i forgot to get you a souvenir" you were trying to play it cool but sakusa could tell you were forcing yourself. "i wouldnt want a souvenir from where you came from so its fine" sakusa's words threw you off. "i - im not sure im understanding what you're saying sakusa?"

» you felt a tug on your hand. "dont you mean omi?" his voice husky as he whispered into your ear. cheeks flushed, your brain felt like it short circuted. you've always tried your hardest to not let it slip that you want to call him omi since he hated when people called him that.

» sakusa smirked at your cute reaction he got out of you. letting go of your hand he began to walk into the school leaving you at the gate dumbfounded. "and by the way. you're just as stupid for not realizing how long ive liked you too"

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

thank you for your order! enjoy~!

#haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #yinny!drabbles #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita fluff

[aphroditestummyrolls]

i wrote a fairytale au moment

my country has reached a terrifying level of disarray and i am scared. so i wrote some escapism (literally) for Joe and Nicky. i was even inspired by this to write a whole fairytale au fic!!! it is long-- like, my star wars fics level of long, and im very excited about it. it feels good to be excited about something lol. 

Folks that wanted to be tagggged: @ilostmyothersock, @littlerosetrove, @antukini, @sunriseseance, and @polarcell <3333 i hope you enjoy it! let me know if you do. 

His heart pounded in his chest, the nighttime’s dewy grass sending him slipping and sliding as he darted between the trees. He didn’t dare take his usual, well-trodden path. Not tonight— not if his father had sent anyone after him. 

The gardener’s cottage was on the edge of the palace grounds, where the lush, even lawns, sculpted shrubs and elaborate floral displays gave way to the foothills of the mountains. The ancient groves of chestnut trees were wilder, monuments to the artistry of a natural, unpruned life. Silver blue moonlight shone on their trunks, guiding Yusuf’s frantic steps as he dove deeper into the woods. He had slipped out of his chamber window without a sound that night— just as he had many nights before. There were no guards stationed out this far. He’d left the last of them blissfully ignorant,  back by the last of the rose trellises— he knew it, but the urgency of tonight was twisting him into knots. He had to be sure. He had to take all precautions. 

He couldn’t live with himself if he accidentally exposed this secret. 

Finally, the endless shadowy forest gave way to a familiar clearing. The iron fist clenched around his heart loosened some, and he heaved a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

The cottage was small. The roof leaked when it stormed, and the front door had gone crooked with age, providing a gale-force draft that rattled the windows on windy nights. The stones used to build it were near as old as the trees around it, starting to crack after weathering centuries of snowy winters and sun-baked summers. 

It was small, yes. But he knew that the bed was warm, that the verdant rows of growing vegetables smelled like earth and honey under the sun’s heat, and that he felt relaxed there. It felt more like a home than the Palace of Genoa, where he was all but trapped under the constant gaze of gossiping strangers. It was even more comforting than the silks and spices of home, across the sea where his family and his people ruled. 

His father had told him that he was accompanying him to Genoa to discuss trade imports between their kingdoms. He had said that they were to spend the year solidifying their connections with the Genoese royal family, drawing up important contracts— it's time you learned a thing or two about compromise, Yusuf. 

That was what he said. 

Yusuf rapped desperately at the door, a ragged half a sob punching out of his throat when he realized that he was finally there, on the flagstone threshold of someplace warm and safe, and— 

“What’s happened? Yusuf?” The door opened to the smoldering orange light of the hearth, the brightest lantern hastily lit by the sleep-ruffled man blinking owlishly at him. “You said it would be too dangerous to meet tonight, while you met with your father…” 

Yusuf would have laughed at his sweet face, if he weren’t about to cry from relief. 

“He means to marry me to her.” He said, shaping the words outside of his panicked head for the first time. They felt too loud in the quiet night, too starkly horrible against the pristine haven of the trees. “The Princess, she—“ Yusuf choked. 

Only now did he notice how his hands trembled, the way his vision was going steadily blurrier— he blinked against the heat building behind his eyes. The summer night was cool, but not cold, yet he still shivered. He shivered until a work-rough hand took pity on him. Nicolo reached out and pulled Yusuf into him, like he had all those months ago, back when everything changed. 

He pulled him through the threshold into the cottage, the floorboards creaking and the door swinging shut behind them as Yusuf spun around to immediately throw his arms around his love’s shoulders. The fog of sleep was gone when Nico’s pale eyes locked on his, suddenly and horribly awake. A hot tear broke ranks and burned a track down Yusuf’s cheek. 

Nico made a sad little noise. It rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, a hum and a moan, the quiet syllable of no hidden in behind his teeth— like mourning. He cradled Yusuf’s face, his thumb brushing the wetness away. 

“When are you to be betrothed?” He asked, his voice hoarse, like the sentence had to be yanked out of him. 

Yusuf just shook his head, the thought of it flipping his stomach. “They intend to announce the engagement by the end of the summer.” 

Something broke behind Nicolò’s eyes, and Yusuf knew what he was thinking. They had barely a fortnight left. The arm around his waist squeezed tighter, pressing their chests flush. 

He could feel their hearts, pounding in time with each other. Usually it was a comfort, but it was a ticking clock between the two of them now. Their moments together were numbered. 

Nicolo shuffled them around after a few tender seconds— breathing each other’s air, stroking over each other’s backs, existing in shared space— and maneuvered Yusuf to sit on the edge of his bed. It was still warm, the covers rumpled. 

“I’m sorry to wake you. I just… I had to see you.” 

Nico shook his head, “No apologies, Tesoro.” He puttered around the room, stoking the fire from embers to flames before setting the kettle over the highest heat. He settled on his knees, knelt at Yusuf’s feet to study him face to face. 

He brushed Yusuf’s tousled curls off his forehead, and gazed into his eyes. His love’s eyes were a pale, silvery green, but tonight, they looked darker. In the dim glow of the cottage at night, they were bluer than usual, contrasted with the amber firelight. Yusuf leaned into his palm as it traced his hairline, down over his beard and jaw. Nico sat in silence, watching him with the gentleness of someone patient enough to watch the flowers grow. He was waiting. 

“I…” he didn’t know where to start, what to say, “She’s so… She’s so old.” 

Nico’s smile was unmistakably sad, little more than a quirk of lips, but his nod of agreement spurred Yusuf on. 

“It has nothing to do with her looks, really. She’s just so old, and so wasteful, and her gaze on me is so… I just… I understand that I’ve put off marriage as long as my father can take. But she’s 25 years my senior. Her children are my age, Nicolo!” 

He had told these things to his father— he had begged him not to go through with the arrangement, not to agree to the Genoese king’s proposal for his daughter’s hand. It’s already done, he’d said, it was arranged months ago. 

Yusuf had no choice in the matter. 

“I suppose it’s stupid that I was surprised.” He groused, his throat feeling tight and his voice thick. “It’s been so long since any of his children were more than bargaining chips to him— I’m not his son, I’m a new trade route.” 

The kettle on the fire began to whistle, but Nico was sure to take his hands and kiss his knuckles before standing up to fix their tea. 

Left to drift in his mind, Yusuf chewed his lip and floated through his memories, mentally listing the siblings that he’d lost to distant royal families. Only his eldest brother, Farouk, would never leave home. The throne was his, but what about the rest of them? What was the point of having children, of lovingly raising a family, if only to scatter them to the four winds in exchange for trade routes, dowries, and peace treaties? 

It would be different if Mama was alive, he thought with a despairing little whimper. She wouldn’t let him do this…

“Yusuf, breathe.” His love’s voice broke into his thoughts, calling him back from the tangle of his mind. A steaming mug of rosehips, mint and honey was pressed into his palm, and Nico took it on himself to mold his hand around the warm pottery. “D’you have it?” 

“If I say no, will you keep holding my hand like that?” Will you never let me go? he added silently, sure that his eyes were saying it all for him. Nico’s grip was warm and solid, and the calluses felt rough against him. It tethered him to reality, right there on his love’s bed. His pale gaze was soft and glimmering a little. Like he was going to cry. Like he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to Yusuf anymore than Yusuf could bear the idea of letting Nicolo go. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, reaching out his free hand to card into his long hair. “Don’t let them take me, Nicolo— come away with me.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He didn’t mean to spring this half formed, half delirious, half perfect plan on him so soon after waking him up in the middle of the night. The words fell from his lips, unwarranted and chaotic, but suddenly he was desperate to go, run, and be free. 

Before he knew what was happening, the hot mug was lifted from his hand and Nico’s were on him, cupping his cheeks to slam their lips together. His waist was wedged between Yusuf’s thighs, his arms slipping down to wrap around him and tug his hips closer while Yusuf twined both of his hands into his love’s hair,  desperate and trembling with the need to have him as close as he could be. 

He nearly gasped with the need for air by the time they dared to pull away, but he missed his love’s lips the second they weren’t on his. Nico pressed their foreheads together, drinking in deep gulps of air, tear tracks wet on his cheeks and clumping his lashes as he fisted his hands in Yusuf’s tunic. 

Yusuf’s hands in his hair slid down to stroke gently along his cheeks, feeling the wetness and studying how it gleamed in the glow of the hearth. 

He held tight to Yusuf, fingers flexing in the fine fabric of his sleeping clothes. His jaw worked, jumping the way it did when he was holding his tongue. Everything about him was grim and elegant, as still as a statue. 

He was so beautiful, and so sad. 

“Why d’you look at me like that, Hayati?” He sighed, his own heart gripped in a terrible vice. 

Nico swallowed, lips twisted with concern for a moment before he finally sighed and said, “I cannot ask you to leave your life, Yusuf. You are of such importance—“ 

“I am the sixth child of the Tunisian King. Farouk is his heir, and he already has three children of his own. I am nothing more than a mountain pass into the north to my father. My people barely know a thing about me— to them I’m simply the handsome, unmarried oddity of the royal family. My love, you know the wealthy trappings of royal life have never been something I need— but I need a life where I am appreciated and loved for who I am! I need simple comforts and a partner to walk hand and hand with through life. I need you, Nicolo.” 

The fire crackled, and the cottage was quiet. Yusuf’s chest heaved, and tears streamed down Nicolò’s face. His bright eyes shone with a reverent light, like he had in the early days of falling in love— like he still did, in the pale morning hours when Yusuf was still half asleep by his side. It was as if he was falling in love all over again. Awestruck and grateful, his eyes looking like glimmering, full moons as he beheld Yusuf like a fallen star. 

It took a long moment for Nico to find the words. Yusuf stroked his hair, hands still trembling from the adrenaline, even as the knots in his gut began to loosen. 

“Yusuf, you…” he trailed off, rose back up on his knees and kissed him like an act of worship— firm, tender, salty with tears and trembling just as much as Yusuf was. Nico pulled slowly back, just far enough to nuzzle their noses and look him in the eyes. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”  

“Will you come with me?” 

“To the ends of the earth. Yes, Tesoro.” He sucked in a breath and let it out long, in a sigh that seemed to clear out all the corners of Yusuf’s cluttered mind. And then, he smiled. 

Nicolo was a man of intricate reactions. There was beauty in each and every one, but it was a private, special thing to see that broad, happy grin. 

“Drink this while it’s still hot— it’ll help your heart calm itself.” He fussed, pressing the mug back into Yusuf’s palm, and this time, he took it gladly. Nico stood to his full height, standing over him where he sat for a brief moment while Yusuf didn’t dare take his eyes off of him. Looking back down at him with the glow of something divine in his eyes, Nico bent himself down to press a soft kiss to Yusuf’s brow. 

“Well, my Prince— where shall we go?” 

Yusuf grinned back, something bright and hopeful growing in his chest. 

They had planning to do. 

********

Yusuf gazed up from where he laid in the glen, soft grass and wildflowers under his feet. The sun dappled the forest floor, streaming down into the parting of the trees where the cottage sat. Nico flickered his lips into one of his barely-there smiles as he gazed down at him where Yusuf had pillowed his head on his thigh. 

Summer was nearly done. The full, green leaves were burnished gold around the edges by the hot sunlight; the garden smelled heavy with ripe harvests and vibrant flowers; and— on the far side of the palace grounds, beyond chestnut groves and manicured lawns, and terraces— the home of the King was glittering with silk flags and banners for the harvest ball. The last days leading up to the festival were certain to be wildly busy— there wouldn’t be a single moment where Yusuf could slip by unnoticed. Nicolo would be fussing about in the palace gardens with last minute preparations from dawn to dusk. 

Usually, Yusuf would be tearing his hair out from the stress. He couldn’t stand the pomp and circumstance, the endless preparations of a ball. He spent hours per day, standing stock still and poked with pins while he was fitted for another itchy, Genoese costume. King Vincenzo was seeking out any opportunity to discipline the palace staff, and the courtiers got particularly insufferable as the long awaited date came to peacock around at the height of their finery. Even back at home, festivals were terrible, but in Genoa, Yusuf’s father had become even more strict. You are representing our kingdom! Act like it! was the most common phrase, hissed into Yusuf’s ear for the most minor infractions. He was constantly watching him, his shrewd eyes looking for any moment to say stand like royalty, Yusuf— shoulders back. 

He hated standing on ceremony and the never-ending scrutiny— but, this time was the last time. His escape was in sight. He didn’t complain a single time about the drapes of scratchy, heavy fabric piled on his shoulders, or the way standing with such rigid posture made his back ache. He took each new indignity with a smile so gracious that even his father was smiling back. 

Thinking of Nicolo made every pinprick more bearable. Lying there in the sun, eyes closed to bask in the warmth, he thought about the expertly packed saddlebags under his love’s bed. He listened to his soft humming— a tune Yusuf had only heard when he was rearing his most delicate seedlings, or on their quietest, gentlest mornings together— and the way it blended into the sounds of the birds. 

Yusuf had never felt so certain of his path. 

He was so content that he didn’t notice that the fingers twining their way through his curls had gone until they must have been missing from him for quite a while. He cracked open one eye, peering up at his love with mild accusation. Nico wasn’t paying attention to his pouting lips, though. 

Sitting up to get a better look at him, Yusuf found Nico’s deft hands full of colorful flowers. He weaved their stems back and forth, his steady gaze flicking over to Yusuf with a sparkle in them. 

“If I didn’t know you like I do, I’d have thought you’d fallen asleep.” He chuckled. 

Yusuf sat close to his side, able to look over his shoulder and study the intricate bouquet. “What a beautiful braid.” He murmured, awe in his voice. 

Some of the blooms were the small, wild ones that grew in the glen, poking out between the wide circles of bright blue coneflowers and puffs of golden orange chrysanthemums that Nico must’ve pulled up from the garden bed beside them. 

“Let me show you how?” Nico replied, phrased as a question even as he handed over his work for Yusuf’s inspection. “It’s not as hard as it looks, I promise.” He said, tiny smile tilting his lips again. 

Perhaps it was his imagination, or his own excitement, but it seemed as if Nicolò’s smiles had gotten wider, his eyes gone softer. The rod of nervous tension that always clung to his spine in the days before a ball wasn’t as unyielding and stiff. 

Nico was more at peace. He weaved the stems of his beloved flowers in, out and under each other, dutifully guiding Yusuf’s hands as he collected his own flowers. He was right— it wasn’t as difficult as it had looked. The rhythm was steady and relaxing, a balm on the last of his nerves as he tucked flower after precious flower into his braid of grass. The crickets chirped, the birds sang, and the sun fed the earth— Yusuf sat side by side with his love, and it felt right. 

“You know, I have been thinking.” Nico murmured, his rich accent nothing more than a purr into the summer breeze. 

Yusuf chuckled, knocking their shoulders together, “Dangerous.” 

Nico huffed an indignant sound, but his eyes rolled playfully when he met his gaze, “Of course, of course— thinking is only for those supremely educated, princely philosophers. How dare I—“ 

“No, no no no!” Yusuf shook out his curls, letting out a full, genuine laugh, “Tell me every thought that has ever passed through your head, Hayati— it is my privilege to be your audience.” He was grinning, laughing, cupping Nico’s sunkissed cheek and basking in the light of his eyes. “What were you thinking about?” 

Nico licked his lips, swallowing like his throat had gone dry as he maneuvered himself to face Yusuf, sitting on his knees like he had not so long ago. Something about it squeezed at Yusuf’s heart, his smile fading into seriousness as he waited. 

He carefully took and set down their braided flowers on the grass, scooping Yusuf’s hands up into his own. 

“If we are to truly leave this place, I want to do this properly.” He said, eyes clear and trained on him with an unwavering focus. “I love you, Yusuf, but I can’t promise any royal comforts, or an easy life. I have no ring or dagger to give,” his breath came out long and slow, intentionally calm even while his fingers squeezed around Yusuf’s hands. He let go, then, picking up his circlet of braided flowers to hold in his lap. “I can only promise you the kinds of beauty I can make grow. Would you…” 

His voice stuttered, his gaze dropping down to his lap and the blue flowers there, as if Yusuf was too blinding to look at. He could feel his smile splitting his cheeks, bright and unabashed, the cry of yes on the tip of his tongue, nearly jumping from his lips.

But he waited, patiently holding space for his love. He reached out and cupped his hand over his wrist, feeling his pulse race under the delicate skin, just to make Nico meet his gaze again. 

“Would you marry me, my Prince?” 

Yes. “Yes, my Gardener. I will marry you.” He replied, whispered like a secret, but more resonant and proud than anything he’d ever said. He was grinning, “Though, I’m not sure how much of a Prince I’ll be by the time we wed.” 

Nico huffed one of his little laughs, meeting Yusuf with one of his rare, open smiles as he lifted the circlet of blue and orange and braided white to rest gently on top of his curls. 

“No, but you will always be mine.” He said, swiping a tear from Yusuf’s cheek, not unlike he had done so recently, for such different reasons. It was more breath than sound, matching Yusuf’s hush. 

I’ve never been so proud to wear a crown, he thought. 

With his chest feeling expansive and warm, his cheeks hot with a pink flush, Yusuf hastily reached out for his own circlet of flowers. Their wide, fragrant petals and little sun-yellow centers felt silky under his fingers as he lifted it to Nico’s brow. 

“If I maintain such royalty, then, my husband must, too.” He replied, voice nearly lost in the birdsong. “King of my heart, my true love.” 

Nico’s face had gone soft and slack with a familiar expression— as if Yusuf was the sun itself, as if his warmth and light had singlehandedly brought him to life. 

Yusuf let himself be held as Nicolo took his face in his hands and leaned in close. He pressed his lips to his tear-stained cheek, and then the other. He peppered the smallest, gentlest kisses across the freckles on his nose, and Yusuf wrapped his hands around his love’s wrists to keep him close. The last kiss was softly, loving left on the crest of his brow bone, tender enough to bring the forest to a standstill. 

#joe x nicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #the old guard #the old guard fanfic #fairytale au #escapism for the struggling #schmoopy schmoopy sappy fluff and some tears (cuz i always make joe cry-- not sorry)

[meat--grindr]

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

·       It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

·       Even better, you aren’t alone.

·       Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

·       The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

·       Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

·       The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

·       The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

·       Okay. Sure.

·       It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

·       In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

·       “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

·       Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

·       “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

·       “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

·       “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

·       And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

·       The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

·       You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

·       In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

·       So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

·       He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

·       You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

·       His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

·       He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

·       “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

·       And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

·       He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

·       “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

·       Limp or lifeless?

·       The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

·       You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

·       You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

·       When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

·       He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

·       “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

·       Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

·       “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

·       He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

·       You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

·       You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

·       “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

·       And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

·       “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

·       The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

·       You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

·       Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

·       Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

·       You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

·       Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

·       For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

·       The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

·       You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

·       When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

·       “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

·       You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

·       His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

·       The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

·       “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

·       You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

·       Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

·       You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

·       “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

·       Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

·       There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

·       “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

·       There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

·       “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

·       “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

·       “Oh, yes.”

·       “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

·       Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

·       “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

·       Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

·       “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

·       The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

·       Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

·       Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

·       Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

·       “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

·       “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

·       You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

·       Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

·       Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

·       Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

·       “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

·       Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

·       “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

·       Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

·       You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

·       You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

·       “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

·       “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

·       You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

·       “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

·       Clever boy.

·       You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

·       He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

·       You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

·       He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

·       His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

·       You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

·       With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

·       His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

·       You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

·       “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

·       “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

·       You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

·       “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

·       “They are aware, yes.”

·       The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

·       Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

·       You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

·       Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

·       “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

·       You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

·       “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

·       The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

·       You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

·       “Oh yeah? How?”

·       “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

·       He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

·       ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

·       You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

·       Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

·       You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

·       He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

·       But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

·       This is going to be fun.

·       You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside.  Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

·       Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

·       “What was that, Count?”

·       “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

·       The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

·       Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

·       “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

·       With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

·       The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

·       “Their…blood?”

·       You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

·       “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

·       Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

·       The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

·       Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

·       The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

·       Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

·       Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

·       You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

·       “What’s going on, Count?”

·       “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

·       “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

·       Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

·       The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

·       Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

·       His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

·       Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

·       You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

·       “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

·       “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

·       Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

·       He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

·       With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

·       The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

·       His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.  

·       He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

·       The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

·       Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

·       He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

[boethiahsboytoy]

fuck it vyrthaal fic ch 1 its just a rough draft bc i dont have the attention span 2 edit yet so this means critique is not only welcomed but appreciated ! under the cut bc i dont want 2 fuck ur dashes (this isn’t vyrthaal-verse im gonna try n write out the whole dawnguard questline n post that First sorry if ur lookin forward 2 that)

In ages past and long forgotten, a mighty city conjured from ice sat safely in the mountains of a young Skyrim; glittering towers reached elegantly towards the sky as crystal-lined paths wound through the mighty buildings. Protecting the city was a noble family of snow elves. They were a reclusive sort, rarely meeting with their neighbors unless it was for business, and tending silently to the upkeep of their home. Among this family was an only child by the name of Vyrthaal, with eyes bright as the sun and skin as blue as the sky. He was an energetic lad, frequently seen running through the halls of his family’s home as he played, but shy, rarely speaking to anyone even in his family. Their nobility intimidated him, and somehow he knew in his heart that he did not fully belong with them, even at such a young age. But he didn’t mind. That much.

He got along well enough with his family anyways; he stayed out of his way and they gave him cold affection. Perhaps their disciplinary tactics were a bit too harsh for a young thirteen year old, but Vyrthaal knew not to complain. There was a great divide between him and his parents, this much he knew, but all in all he would have been content to live with them for a great many more years. But, whether fortunately or unfortunately, this would not be possible. Even one so heavily sheltered such as Vyrthaal would find it impossible to hide from the fact that his homeland was in grave trouble. Almost every day a new courier came bearing bad news of another far-reaching snow elven outpost. Colonizers coming in from the sea were overtaking their land, ousting snow elves from homes that had belonged to them for generations and slaughtering those who resisted. Fear did not show in Vyrthaal’s eyes at this news, but it was felt deep within his heart. And at night he curled up in bed, fearing he would not wake up again to see Auri-El’s light.

- - - - - - - -

“We can rely on the Deep Folk,” his father said one evening, and his mother scoffed. Her long fingers were in Vyrthaal’s hair, intricately braiding it. It was late, and he would have to undo the braids before bed, but it soothed both his and his mother’s nerves.

“Since when have the Dwemer cared for others? They are cruel, and snobbish. Besides,” and now her voice dropped, as if Vyrthaal’s sharp ears wouldn’t pick up her words, “You have heard what they do to our people. Lock them up deep underground, poison them, force them to work in their awful caverns. It is better that we refuse their aid!”

Vyrthaal felt a bolt of fear shoot through him, eyes widening as his ears twitched nervously. But his father shook his head. “That is only rumors,” he said, but doubt sat heavily in his voice. “They wouldn’t do that to us.”

No one in the room believed that. But what other options did they have? While their city was strong they didn’t truly have an army; just a few guards to patrol the area and keep crime to a minimum, or fend off the occasional wild beast that strayed too close. The prospect of making the journey to the Chantry of Auri-El was there, but was it wise? It was a long and difficult road, much too harsh for a child such as Vyrthaal, and who was to say they wouldn’t be attacked by the very Atmorans they were trying to flee? There was little else to be said, but at the end of the night when Vyrthaal retired to his room he still heard his parents discussing what to do.

Anxiety prevented him from sleeping well. It had only been about three hours into a restless sleep when suddenly Vyrthaal was awoken by a chilled touch shaking him. He sat upright quickly, meeting his mother’s eyes, and as consciousness rushed to him he heard the sounds of fighting. On reflex he turned to look out his window but was stopped by his mother’s hand on his cheek.

“Do not look, my son,” she whispered. And all at once he was pulled from his bed, led by the hand down the long flight of stairs to the main living area. But his mother made a sharp turn, tugging the young elf into a small hallway normally used by servants, and brought him to a blank space in the wall. There they met his father, who rested a hand on Vyrthaal’s shoulder and squeezed gently, before turning to the wall and muttering a strange incantation. Where once there was nothing now stood a door, shimmering behind a protective shield of magic. But Vyrthaal’s father opened it and he was rushed in by his parents.

“What is going on?” he begged to know as the sounds of fighting was muffled. They were now heading down a long flight of stairs, Vyrthaal lifting his robes so as not to trip. His mother responded.

“The Atmorans have found us.”

While fear nearly paralyzed him Vyrthaal pressed on with his parents, tears pricking at his eyes. “Where are we going?” His voice was shrill with fear and his mother’s reassuring squeeze to his hands did nothing to calm him. “What will we do!?”

“Hush, Vyrthaal. You will be safe.”

Vyrthaal was more than familiar with his father’s short answers that told him very little, but now it frustrated him. He was about to demand more answers when at last the stairs ended and a slightly breathless Vyrthaal was lead into an odd chamber. He could sense magic here. It was old and deep, and more powerful than he could imagine. It saturated the air and he shivered at the feeling. But it was calming. He looked up between his parents, who now seemed reluctant to continue. But at last, Vyrthaal’s mother slid her hand from his grip.

“You will be safe here.”

There were tears in her eyes as she knelt, hands on Vyrthaal’s shoulders. A kiss was pressed to his brow and he reached up to grasp her forearm.

“Mother-” he tried, but his father cut him off.

“There is no time for questions, my son. The Atmorans are here, and it is too late to flee. This room...it was built ages ago by our ancestors. It is stronger than any of our magic combined, and you will not be found here.” He led Vyrthaal to a heavy looking door carved from an unknown substance, but when they came close he could sense it was made of pure magickal energy. Being so near it seemed to make Vyrthaal’s very soul shrink back from the amount of power it contained. And as he approached it opened for him. He looked questioningly at his parents as it revealed a small, dim room—more of a storage closet in terms of size. “You will be safe here. It will only be for a little while, until we can muster our forces and drive the Atmorans away. Go, Vyrthaal. You will be alright.”

He didn’t want to. But Vyrthaal stepped into the room, turning to look at his parents. “What about you?” He finally asked, and Vyrthaal’s mother smiled.

“We will be safe. There are similar rooms for us.”

It was a lie. Vyrthaal knew it was. But he didn’t argue. Something in him knew that this was their only option. But it also knew that this would work. And when his parents stepped back to seal the door into place he didn’t protest. Only allowed the strange magic of the room work on him, making him grow tired. His eyelids grew heavy, but he kept his gaze on his parents for as long as he could until a strange, enchanted sleep took him. Vyrthaal slept now, undisturbed by noise and disarray, his mind giving him hopeful dreams of a bright future safe from invading Atmorans or scheming Dwemer. Vyrthaal slept as a battle raged on overhead, devouring buildings and people he knew all his life. Vyrthaal slept as Knight-Paladins gave their lives in a vain attempt to protect their race and innocents were slaughtered at the hands of men. And when the last Snow Prince was cut down, and the Atmorans brutally claimed Skyrim as their own, and what little remained of his people retreated to rot in the grasp of the Dwemer, Vyrthaal slept.

#my writing #OC Vyrthaal #once i get an ao3 account and i post it there ill post a link to the final ver on my oc blog #I'm Miraak and you're watching Disney Channel

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Bioshock Rebirth Masterpost

I’m making this post because my good friend @kaijuguy19 talked about if I should post this stuff on DeviantArt. But I’m nervous to do that(Yet I may do that. It depends if I’m brave enough) because of personal reasons. Yet I did think about this masterpost idea people do. Just like my good friend @pikablob has done before for his fan fics.

In a nutshell Bioshock Rebirth is an AU that’s a reimagining/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. It was in development for a long time. This will be the post containing many important posts of the AU if you don’t wanna personally find them. 

Now I will say. I will not reblog this post unless I want to. I’ll only reblog it if someone makes a reblog to it with a message on it. Because I will update this post as time goes on. Because I do have some stories in draft I haven’t posted yet. Including this is for any new story that gets made. Just basically a heads up.

The synopsis. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632210468121067520/as-the-lone-survivor-of-a-aircraft-being-shot

The timeline. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626141727587270656/bioshock-rebirth-timeline-this-is-a-timeline-of-an

Character ages. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626320441499336704/bioshock-rebirth-character-ages

Brigid And Elizabeth. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632208816678862849/back-at-tenenbaums-safehouse-the-three-adults

Not Alone. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632208897521975296/it-was-probably-about-8-pm-nearly-all-of-the-kids

Atlas Quotes. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632208992898252801/atlas-quotes

Sinclair And Archie. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632209082263207936/sinclair-sonyou-wanna-tell-me-whats-going

You’re Important. A Archabeth story. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632209229049200640/youre-important

Forgiveness. A Deltabaum/Topbaum story. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632209409178763264/forgiveness

Booker Quotes. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632660871237304320/booker-quotes

A humorous recap of Bioshock Rebirth Part 1. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632661328080912384/bioshock-rebirth-part-1-told-in-a-humorous-way

Andrew And Archie. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632662270923702272/andrew-soyou-finally-arrived-archie-yeahi

Sofia And Atlas. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632210219714379776/sofia-atlas

Sofia And Archie. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632663580690546688/sofia-and-archie

An old scrapped idea leading up to the New Years Eve attack. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632752184291934208/think-ill-finally-reveal-this-and-i-wanna-make-it

Memes. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632839102866292736/finally-sharing-some-old-memes-of-mine-these

Silly edits. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632839324424077312

Another meme. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632839780635492352

Old Atlas Quotes. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632842234581188608/rebirth-atlas-to-archie-you-know-arch-im-gonna

More old memes when this AU was still in development. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/632842475961286656

The Alpha Parasite theme. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/633366433269727232/to-be-absolutely-honest-and-considering-im-joking Just noticed dear God and made a edit. I meant Feckinatlas not Feckoncomics.

Archie’s Collection. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/633748993623654400/archies-collection Added Looney Tunes and Tom & Jerry before making this and all that. Along with Twisted 3 & 4. Look at the media Archie entertains with himself in his apartment.

The Peter Parker With A Gun meme. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/633756850217779200/i-have-called-archie-wynand-peter-parker-with-a

The events after Minerva’s Den in a nutshell in Rebirth. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/633920174424260608/ive-been-stalling-but-basically-after-playing

Bioshock Rebirth Playlist. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/629689451747147776/i-made-this-edit-4-days-agothat-i-recall-i-tried

The theme of Archie as a, “Monster”. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/634030708921335808/hey-there-everyone-i-just-wanted-to-speak-some

Me amazed by the level of depth I’ve put into Archie. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/634031012610965504/heres-the-next-post-i-mentioned-in-my-last

Booker’s design. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/634113756716318720/you-know-when-i-was-on-my-walk-with-my-mom-shes

Johnny Topside. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/628508082684723200/i-finally-drew-himand-with-how-i-have-mentioned

Booker Dewitt. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/628503534520926208/here-he-is-booker-dewitt-as-mentioned-in-my

Brigid Tenenbaum And Elizabeth Comstock. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/628500195804594176/well-looky-here-my-favorite-character-from

Me being amazed by the love and attention Archie has gotten. Including the post where Kaijuguy talked about where I should post this. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/634263837016719360/thought-of-this-some-minutes-ago-so-im-making

Archie And Atlas. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/635374986048241664/archie-and-atlas

Little details on Archie’s and Eleanor’s relationship. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/634840450256257024/gonna-admit-despite-getting-distracted-by-other

Miranda. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/635386660158373888/miranda

The Beginning Of Trauma. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/635528766382292992/the-beginning-of-trauma

Why Bioshock Rebirth Part 3 won’t be a thing for a while. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/635922498534391808/why-bioshock-rebirth-part-3-wont-be-a-thing-for-a

The Big Villains Of Bioshock Rebirth. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/636553416548777984/the-big-villains-of-bioshock-rebirth

The start of Archie’s world ending. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/636802334028120064/ive-forgotten-to-talk-about-this-considering-im

The Choice System Idea In Bioshock Rebirth. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/637181659025932288/the-choice-system-idea-in-bioshock-rebirth

Daisy’s sexuality. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/637279025584324608/i-think-after-searching-daisy-fitzroy-on

Archie when Splicers from The Rapture Family start overrunning the Vox Populi. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/637381337104433152/this-is-archie-when-splicers-from-the-rapture

Not Who He Is. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/637267620874371072/not-who-he-is-this-is-a-story-set-within-my

The inspirations behind Bioshock Rebirth. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/637467851830280192/i-may-delete-this-but-i-think-ill-just-admit-it

Archie’s nightmare ideas. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/638077643330289664/archies-nightmare-ideas

#bioshock rebirth #archie wynand

[simplybakugou]

The Villain - Ch. 7: The Unsolicited Attack

A/N: Not even joking, I have like 20 things in my drafts because I have so many ideas to write about but I’m also too lazy and unmotivated to execute them omg. Also, because all of my classes are online now, that means I have literally 5 months of doing nothing so expect more updates because IM SO READY TO FINALLY FINISH THIS FIC. THE FACT THAT I STARTED THIS FIC AT THE END OF 2018 AND NOW ITS 2020 AND I STILL HAVEN’T FINISHED IT DJIFJEWBEHFOJEWVQOJ

Remember, if you want to be tagged in future chapters, comment below and I’ll add your username to the list!

Pairing: villain!bakugou Warnings: swearing Word Count: 3,703

LINKS TO NEW CHAPTERS

✐posted 04.10.2020✐

“Man, I really just bombed that exam,” Kaminari groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“It’s okay, Mina and Sero are probably going to join you in your failure,” you teased, earning yourself some glares from Sero and Mina. Kirishima laughed and you looked at him. “Don’t laugh too hard, Eijirou, you’re not that far ahead either!”

Kaminari, Sero, and Mina took their chances to make fun of Kirishima this time, the boys fooling around while Mina rolled her eyes. The sun was beginning to set as you and your friends waited outside of U.A. before walking back home.

“Where the hell is Katsuki?” You muttered.

Mina heard you over the sound of the boys arguing and put her arm on your shoulder. “Aw, look at you worrying about your boyfriend.”

She made kissy faces at you and you rolled your eyes, pushing her face away. “You know it’s not like that. He just seems down lately.”

Mina raised her brow. “Really? If I’m being honest, I haven’t really noticed. Then again, you’ve always been observant and see things I would never even think about noticing.”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders as Kirishima waved at you and Mina. He showed you his phone, revealing messages between him and Bakugou. “Bakugou said that he’s going to see us tomorrow. Apparently he has to talk to a teacher about one of his assignments.”

“Alright, come on let’s go home,” Kaminari said as the group began walking away.

You stayed back. “I think I’m going to wait for him out here.”

“Are you sure? I can wait with you if you want,” Mina suggested.

You shook your head, smiling. “I just don’t want to leave him alone so I’m going to annoy him a little. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

The four of them waved good-bye to you as they walked away. You turned back around, leaning against the gates opening up to U.A. You had a feeling in your gut that was telling you to stay back and wait for Bakugou and low and behold, Bakugou came walking down the entrance. When he saw you, you could practically hear him groaning despite the amount of distance between the two of you.

As he came closer, you pointed your finger at him. “I knew it, you’re trying to avoid us!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he continued walking. You caught up to him, walking beside him. “Whatever. If you knew I was avoiding you shits, why’re you here?”

“‘Cause I’m worried about you,” you said truthfully.

Bakugou scoffed. “I’m not a kid, I don’t need you to fucking worry about me.”

“Just because you don’t need me to, doesn’t mean I’ll just stop.” You stood in front of him, causing him to stop walking. “You need to talk to someone about the Kamino incident.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly before he gained his composure once more. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling upset about what happened. No one blames you or thinks you’re in the wrong.”

There was a long pause before the corners of Bakugou’s lips turned upwards into a small smile. He placed his hand onto your shoulder as he walked forward. You stood dazed and confused before being able to recollect yourself and catch up with him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m walking you home. It’s only been a few weeks since what happened to your mom and I’m still going to follow you around to make sure you’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

***

The walk was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. Bakugou seemed to be deep in thought and you couldn’t help but study and observe Bakugou, attempting to decipher what was going on through his head. His hands were in his pockets and his lips were almost like they were permanently down turned. Once you got to your house, you could see your dad peeking through the window and sigh in relief once he saw you. Bakugou looked over there and looked back at you. “Your dad must’ve been worried about you. You need to take care of yourself for him.”

You sighed. “I know and I am taking care of myself now.”

Bakugou nodded, walking in the other direction to go to his own home. He lifted his hand to you to say goodbye. You stood in front of your driveway and called out to him. “Katsuki!”

Bakugou turned around and narrowed his brows at you. “For the last goddamn time, you’re the only one I know who calls me by my first name and I swear to god—“

You cut him off quickly, knowing he was going to continue rambling on. “I’m going to beat you.”

Bakugou was taken aback. “What?”

“I’m going to beat you and become the number one hero. I’m going to beat you, Midoriya, and Todoroki.” You paused. “You know what that means?”

“What?”

“It means that you’re still a hero to me. What happened in Kamino wasn’t your fault and that shouldn’t be a reason for you to want to stop pursuing your goal. You’re still the same hotheaded Bakugou Katsuki who is loud, driven, and the one who saved me a few weeks ago. You’re a hero, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened but he turned back around so you couldn’t see his expression. “Whatever. Go inside, your dad’s waiting.”

And after all this time, you always wonder what kind of expression he had on his face then.

***

Your eyes shot open and you sat up immediately in bed. You rubbed your eyes, groaning. It was a dream... But it also wasn’t. It genuinely happened and you can recall that day so easily despite how long ago it was.

The door in your room opened and Mina sighed in relief. “Thank god you’re awake, I thought I had to wake you up.”

She threw a few envelopes at you, indicating that it was some mail that you got. You went through them, most of them being bills. However, one of them was from a famous agency you had heard of. Many old heroes were signed under this agency and you immediately ripped open the seal.  The letter was addressed specifically to you.

Dear (H/N),

I hope you’ve been well and that this urgent letter reaches you. I’m going to get straight to the point; I know that you’re the number one hero and that you deserve to be involved in every important villain issue there is.

But, I don’t want you to interfere in any issue related to Ground Zero unless we need your help.

The reason for this is that I’m afraid your personal connection to him will make you biased and refrain you from stopping him if the chance that you meet him ever comes again in the future.

I know you’re a strong hero, which is why you’re number one, but my agency will take care of him if needed.

I understand that this is maybe unfair and I may be intruding, but I’m doing what is best for the world and for you. I’m asking you to step back, not forcing you to.

I hope you can trust me to do this.

—Hawks

You sighed, shoving the letter in your pockets and getting up to get ready. Once you were done, you checked your phone to get a text from Natsuya to stop by his place. You went into the kitchen as Mina set a plate of breakfast for you.

“You look worn out,” Mina commented, sitting down in front of you.

“I just have a feeling something’s going on.” You sighed, eating the food Mina made you. “I’m stopping by Natsuya’s before going to the agency today.”

“Okay.” Mina narrowed her brows in confusion at you but didn’t bother to question you further. “You’ve been at Yamashita’s place more than you’ve been here. Are you sure there isn’t something else going on?”

Mina nudged your arm and you swatted at her. “Absolutely not. I just want to hang out with my boyfriend. Sue me.” You got up to put your plate away, grabbing your coat from the rack in the process.

“But you’re hanging out with him at his apartment. Where his bed is.”

“I’m not going there for his ‘bed.’” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, bending down to tie your shoelaces.

“Hm, then again you don’t need a bed, you can have sex pretty much anywh—“

“Okay, see you later, Mina!” You exclaimed, quickly leaving the apartment only to hear Mina’s snickers as you left.

***

You knocked on the door, patiently waiting for your boyfriend to answer. Once he did, Natsuya’s face broke out into a smile as he was genuinely happy to see his girlfriend.

“Hey, you,” he said, kissing your forehead as he opened the door wider to let you in.

You smiled, walking in and he closed the door. “Why’d you call me here?”

“What? A man can’t see his girlfriend or is that a crime?” Natsuya joked and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I just wanted to check up on you before you and I headed out for work. I have a feeling that everything is going to escalate from here, especially since the League hasn’t done anything and it’s been three weeks now.”

You plopped down onto his sofa, letting out a loud sigh. It was evident that something was bound to happen and lately, it felt as if you were just sitting back and waiting for something to happen. It didn’t sit well with you that you couldn’t really do anything during this time. But there wasn’t anything that you could do, for now at least.

“You’re right, which is why I’m glad you called me over. I need to show you something.” Natsuya sat down beside you as you pulled out the letter from Hawks from your pocket. You handed it over to him, allowing him to read it over briefly. “What do you think about it?”

“If you want my honest opinion, I’m happy you’re not involved with all of this anymore,” Natsuya said, earning a sigh from you. You knew how he would react but nevertheless you wanted to see for yourself what he would say. Natsuya chuckled at your expression. “Don’t give me that look. You get reckless when anything Ground Zero related is called and it’s because you’re biased. Otherwise, you’re a great hero. But I’m glad Hawks stepped in and is taking care of this.”

You groaned. “I know but I’m still worried. What if I can help but it’s too late or if someone gets hurt instead of me?”

Natsuya wrapped an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders. “Y/N, Hawks is an amazing hero. He was number two back when we were still in high school and he’s still strong. Have some more trust in him, I’m sure he’ll have everything under control.”

You nodded, knowing that he was right. You felt guilty for not being able to decide to deal with Bakugou by trying desperately to understand that he’s not a villain and by trying to reprimand him because of his villainous actions. Natsuya sighed, kissing your head. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. I know you want to help but you don’t have to save every single person in the whole world. You’re not the only hero here. There are so many heroes, your colleagues, who are here for you and will support you.”

You nodded once more, wrapping your arms around his torso. “I know. Thanks, Tsuya.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here like this, we’ve still got to go to work.” He patted your back as he got up, extending his hand out for you. You took it and he pulled you up, the two of you leaving to go to your respective jobs.

***

“It’s finally over!” Jirou cheered loudly, raising her arms into the air.

You sighed, rubbing the sweat from your forehead. You were asked to patrol areas that were considered “critical areas” that were most likely going to be attacked by the League by the Hero Public Safety Commission, the center that is run my non-heroes and it is involved in investigating the most criminally dangerous cases. Jirou was also in the area so she decided to tag along and help you out, just in case there was a scenario in which the League actually did attack.

“Are you headed home?” You asked.

Jirou nodded, stretching her arms out. “Yeah, this has been one of the longest days of my life. I’ve never felt so worked up. The League really needs to be stopped.” You nodded in agreement.

The two of you made your way back to the Commission Center, having to send in reports of what you had seen and the areas that you patrolled. The two of you waved to passerby’s, especially to the children who were ecstatic to have run into two major pros. Your phone rang in your pocket, continuing to vibrate uncontrollably as you fished it out. It was from the police station.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” A female voice asked from the other line. “This is Tsubaki from the station. Yamashita’s really busy right now but he wanted to make sure to make me tell you that you need to get to the Commission Center immediately.”

You began to worry. “Yes, I’m on my way now. Did something happen?”

“It’s awful, please hurry. Bring as many people as you can, I don’t know how much is left of it.” Tsubaki hung up.

Jirou read your facial expression. “That doesn’t look good.”

“We have to get to the Commission Center now!” You exclaimed, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You began running towards the Center, Jirou following suit. “Something’s going on there, and we have to check it out. Call as many pros as you can, I’ll do the same.” Jirou wearily nodded, wanting to know what’s going on just as much as you want to.

Dear god please let everything be okay…

***

The bar was quieter than usual, only the bartender keeping Bakugou company. But he liked it that way, finding the crowds of people who usually come to be intrusive and bothersome. Thankfully there weren’t any women trying to hit on him like most nights as they try and become the girlfriend of the most wanted man alive.

“Man, you didn’t have to yell at everyone to leave like that. You know it’s bad for my business,” the bartender, Watari, complained.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the table. “Oh, please, I’ll pay you triple my fee if you quit your bitching.”

Watari laughed, being used to his number one customer’s prickly attitude after the years he’s spent with Bakugou. Watari was the only man Bakugou fully trusted, someone he turned to when he was asked to abandon his family, friends, and his old life. Watari was also the only one who’s aware of Bakugou’s true identity, understanding that he had to become a villain to help out the pros.

Watari studied Bakugou, the now grown man that he saw as his own son. He set down the glass he was wiping. “You know every time I look at you I keep seeing that hopeless kid that came to me all those years ago.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Tch, I wasn’t hopeless. And I didn’t come to you, you saw me and came to me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never seen a kid with such a defeated look in his eye.” Watari chuckled at the memory, running a hand threw his gray hair. “I know the pros are the good guys, and I do trust them. I’ll just never understand what they were thinking asking a child to give up his dreams and his friends and family to help them out.”

“It’s not like they fucking forced me, I agreed to it, you know.”

“I know but I can’t stop thinking about that look on your face. You had to say goodbye to your classmates, to your dream of becoming the number one hero. Hell, if you ask me, you basically handed your dream over to (H/N) without any fight at all! And don’t get me started on you having to abandon your parents, your mother was pissed when you just disappeared all of a sudden.”

Bakugou’s lips turned upward, staring down at his glass as he reminisced with Watari. “That old hag was ready to fucking kill me, calling radio stations and news channels to find me. Must of surprised her when three years later her only son ‘murdered’ the leader of the League to become the leader himself.”

Watari laughed, shaking his head as he recalled the numerous amount of times he saw Bakugou Mitsuki stampeding through the streets to find her son. “You think you’ll ever talk to her? Once you’re done being the bad guy and can go back to your normal life?”

Bakugou sighed, leaning back on the table and staring at the ceiling. “That’s the thing, Pops, I don’t think I can go back. Not to the old hag, to my friends, to being a hero. I haven’t heard from my folks in fucking years, but I don’t blame them since they don’t know the truth. The minute I accepted this job, I knew that I wouldn’t be treated as a kid pursuing heroism like I was before. I’ve been in this shit for over seven years now, no one’s gonna accept me with open arms like that.”

“You’re wrong.” Bakugou turned his head to face him, confused. Watari smiled. “(H/N) would accept you. She’s been accepting you for all these years and she hasn’t been quiet about it either. Also, don’t forget that you have me, kid.”

Bakugou smirked as Watari patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, it seems like you and that shitty girl are the only ones who believe in me.”

Bakugou turned his head back to the ceiling, closing his eyes and taking a breath in. He stills remembers being a broken down mess, agonizing over the decision he had made. Although he didn’t regret the decision he made, the initial reaction to being given the offer by Hawks was one that he could never forget. He was a high schooler, a teenager, a kid being asked to work with adults to help them out. He was a kid asked to become a double agent and he had to sacrifice everything for it, too. But he didn’t regret it. The minute he got abducted by the League during the Kamino incident, he knew he wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old U.A. student anymore. No matter how many times anyone told him otherwise, Bakugou couldn’t help but blame himself for the incident. And no matter how hard he tried to conceal how he was actually feeling, mostly everyone bought his act, believing that he was fine, believing that he was a tough kid that could put up with the aftermath of the incident.

That is, everyone except you. You saw straight through him and didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit either.

As much as he had missed seeing his friends and his parents, he couldn’t describe the loneliness he felt when he realized he wouldn’t have the shitty girl who he saved from the rooftop of U.A. High nagging him everywhere he went. He couldn’t describe the feeling inside of him when he first saw your face after ten years those few weeks ago in that flower shop. He couldn’t describe the relief he felt when he heard you spew out your drunken yet supportive words for him. You always believed in him, you always cheered for him, and here you were ten years later continuing to believe in him.

Bakugou opened his eyes, shaking his head. It happened again; he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His fingers subconsciously, like it was practice now, typed your name in the internet browser on his phone. He looked at the images that popped up with the search result. He internally wanted to puke at the picture of you beside your shitty police boyfriend on the day you were announced as the number one hero. What a fucking tool…

“Katsuki.” Watari broke Bakugou away from his thoughts. “Turn the volume up.”

Bakugou looked over to what he was looking at, getting concerned over the news reporter covering what was read as “BREAKING NEWS.” He turned the volume up.

“This is breaking news and I’m coming to you live from the Hero Public Safety Commission. As you can see, the building is completely burnt down, exploded from the inside. Police have been investigating all night, concluding that the explosions from the inside were not caused by notoriously wanted criminal, Ground Zero,” the woman on the screen said to the camera.

Bakugou stood up from his seat, his eyes widening. He had no idea what was going on. “What the fuck?”

“Officials have confirmed that the villain known as Kurogiri was involved in the attack. However, as he is a part of the League of Villains, he does not have a fire type quirk that would cause such an explosion. Officials have also confirmed that there was another figure involved in this atrocious attack, concluding that it was not villains Ground Zero or Dabi.

“To make matters even worse, the only pro hero that was able to get to the scene before all of this unfolded was Hawks. Kurogiri and the second individual involved managed to hurt Hawks so badly that he is currently critically injured and is in intensive care. Officials have confirmed that they do not know when or even if Hawks will be able to recover from this—“

Watari turned the television off, looking over at Bakugou who was absolutely furious over the events. Kurogiri had worked independently, taking orders from someone else, most likely the true leader of the League, and had hurt Bakugou’s actual boss. “Katsuki… Don’t do anything irrational.”

Bakugou grabbed his coat, slamming the bar door open. “I’m gonna kill that Warp Gate fucker.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tagging: @chims-kookies @bokunoheroes-stories @iamthe-leaf @simplysymphonic @mylittlesunshineblog @imyourliquor-youremypoison @sxperhuman @sunflowerchild27 @miraculouskatsuki @geesshoku @ghoularaki @katsukiwonu @mochirecipe @kotakingly @giornouh @tyongflight​

#the villain #katsukibakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bnha bakugou #katsuki #kacchan #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #bnha katsuki #bnha imagines

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

Im alive and slowly coming back. Also I have an art insta for oldie fanart and producing new stuff slowly and a  John/Seraphina smut fanfiction on ao3 for any unordinary fans of the pairing if they wanna read

Okay so FINALLY i am in the right place for treatment, am getting all my medical stuff in order, have my parents’ support, a good boyfriend and not that horrible ex i posted about last year, and FINALLY can make stuff like the Kallura mermaid fanart and tons of original mixed media stuff I am doing into prints as well as drafting my original webtoon to publish. I am ALSO currently drafting an adult coloring book to take to a publisher. Basically my art has massively improved and I can now start hopefully a shop for both fan art AND original works. 

As for fanfictions and fanart, slowly getting back into it. I am trying to get to a baseline first and with wanting to focus on the art stuff, I kinda haven’t had a moment to really sit down and read fanficiton or get inspired for fan content because i’ve been doing tons of original concepts (I have 15 original pages for the coloring book so far and a whole word doc of 10 concepts of original works for prints and 7 more original concepts for the coloring book as well as a custom character art for a friend being drafted). I still have to finish the giant John/Seraphina comic I made months ago, which I am slowly finishing the current pages and inking and coloring before making new ones. I am trying to be realistic with my work goals as if I over load myself too much, I’m going to not be successful. 

I realize I have been away very very long and probably no one really cares for my content anymore and I built my following more so on my writing--I had basically declined so bad mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually i can not even perform daily tasks. my memory is still very bad and my focus is very hard to maintain. I am trying to find a way to finally have restorative sleep since I’ve had nightmares and poor sleep quality from PTSD and other mental health issues that are intense for seven straight years and still is happening today. Basically I am in treatment for both immense trauma I have and also for tons of physical issues that may be from neurological stuff where the ongoing trauma affected me neurologically as well as psychologically.

I always would make promises I’d get things done but every time something would make my health worse and I couldn’t do it so I’m not going to make promises you all will get updates for things soon, but I haven’t forgotten about my fan content and i still check my ao3 every other day. I am just trying right now to get to a baseline and take things really slow to not overload myself on both my original stuff and my fan content, and create a whole new portfolio as well as do scripting for my webtoon and complete 25 coloring book page drafts with original works. When I finally am in a better state to handle a lot more, I want to get back into fanfiction--especially my stories “Always Led back to you”, “Persephone”, “Fate’s Divergence” and “Everybody Loves Marinette” as well as watch the rest of carmen sandiego to write more for my “Thoughs of a Father” series. I hate how I have gotten so bad I cannot just surround myself with fan content like my fanfictions or the fandoms or my fan art and be thriving like before. I haven’t read a fanfiction in months and my Jeraphina comic was the last fan art I made besides starting a disney princess series for fun art since you cannot sell disney fanart so i am doing it to promote my mixed media skills. I thank everyone for being so patient and I’m sorry I will have to keep you waiting as I focus on my original art projects to produce money, but I actually have an insta for my old fanart and some slightly newer stuff for the webtoon with Cassandra and Eris. Yes, I am aware all the stuff currently on my insta is mediocre--I am working on a lot of projects to produce art where I improved a lot but if you wanna check out my older stuff--like way older from over the years as a content creator in fandoms and my poor color pencil skills back then, my insta is https://www.instagram.com/moonbear_and_sunbee/  and all the drawings above the unordinary fanart is how much i upgraded in drawing skills. My markers skills are also improving a lot too. 

Edit: just changed the link for my account. 

[seasami]

Larry Fic Rec -- June/July

hii!! so I’ve got some fics that I read in June and July (until now). If you see a ✰ next to a title it means I really liked it and it’s one of my favs from the ones I listed. If there’s a 🔒 next to title it means you have to be logged in to read.

[Click on the title for link]

                                               _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Latitude by nikogda (44k)

Summary: Harry’s a hybrid on a boat about to be hit by a storm and Louis is the human who comes to his rescue. That storm is all the time they have to fall in love before going their separate ways. That is, until almost a year later… 

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by Anonymous ✰ (25k)

Summary: Harry had been kissed before, but never like this.He’d shared sweet, curious kisses behind bleachers and in soda shop booths, one or two more daring ones in cars parked on dark suburban streets, but the girls he’d kissed had never filled him with the desperation that erupted from Louis’ touch. He parted his lips and pulled him closer, as though he could breathe Louis straight into his lungs, as if he could swallow him. He wanted to consume Louis the way he consumed the body and blood of Christ. He wanted to place Louis on his tongue and feel him dissolve into a frothy mess of starch and saliva. He wanted to gulp him down until his teeth were stained purple and he was drunk on him. He wanted him in some violent holy way that made his hands shake where they were twisted in Louis’ shirt.

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

No Candle No Light (No Friendzone To My Love) by Anonymous (11k)

Summary: Louis glanced at his friend, glaring daggers and Niall chuckled. He looked like his idea could end world hunger and Louis was horrified. [...]“Come on, Niall! Tell me!” Harry insisted, excited.“You can threaten him other than with violence. You said you want a little revenge, right? What if an ex-boyfriend came to reconquer you? You know, the jealous and aggressive kind.”Harry sighed loudly, closing his eyes. Louis frowned, just like Liam and Zayn. What was he talking about? And why was he still looking at Louis that way?“Niall, this could’ve been a nice idea if I had an ex-boyfriend, but-”“Let me explain!” Niall barged in. “ You don’t have an ex-boyfriend but you can pretend you have one! I’m sure Louis would love to help you with that.”Liam almost choked on his wine and Zayn bit so hard on his lip to contain his laughter that it might have bled. Niall looked satisfied as hell, of course he was the little shit, and Louis just had time to flip him the finger before Harry turned to him. He was fucking delighted.

Or the one where helping Harry getting rid of his boyfriend may be the only way to his heart

Sugar by lettersfromvenus (15k) ✰

Summary: 

“I hope our paths will ‘croissant’ again.” 

There’s a little smiley face drawn next to the words, and it’s ridiculous, Louis knows, but he can’t help the swell of butterflies that he feels as he reads over the words once more. An odd fellow indeed, he thinks.A moment later he shakes his head and collects himself, because he really does need to get home; he’s sure that Harry is probably watching him from behind the counter, all sweet, smug smiles and pink cheeks. And if he’s being honest, he’s not entirely sure he won’t toss his groceries into the trash and walk straight back into the bakery if he doesn’t leave now, so… he really does need to get going.

 Before he goes on his way, though, he plucks the note from the top of the container and carefully tucks it inside of his wallet to protect it from the rain.

That’s how it begins.

Only Been Here One Time by alienharry (10k)

Summary: 

“Good morning, Liam. Harry.” Louis nods at them both and then cocks his head. “Are you aware you have four nipples, Harry?”

Harry looks down at his chest, suddenly worried. He doesn’t know how many nipples humans have, but four must not be a usual amount. “Should I have six?”

“Not unless you’ve a litter of kittens to feed.”

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by dolce_piccante (112k) ✰

I KNOW ITS ICONIC BUT I READ IT A MONTH AGO SO I THOUGHT I’D INCLUDE IT HERE. 

Summary: American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers). 

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. 

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

It’s All Brand New by midnightwhistleberries (10k)

Summary: “Harry,” Louis intones emphatically, “literally everyone in the U.K. has known that I’m openly bisexual since 2011.” 

“’Cept you, I guess,�� supplies Niall. 

In which Harry studies engineering, loves Madonna, and can't tell if Louis likes him or just keeps coming back to the record store because he's some sort of musical hoarder. Louis is famous, Harry has no idea, communication issues are rampant and fluffy pining ensues.

Fool For You by flowercrownfemme, lesbianferrissbueller (46k) ✰

Summary:  “It’s not a game.” Harry scoffed, trying to push past him once more but Louis held his ground. “And I’ve never once told you a lie.” “All you do is lie," Harry argued. "Jests and tricks and made up stories, that’s your trade. I’d never trust a word from your mouth.” “I tell stories,” Louis conceded, “but a good one must be based on truth. And my stories tend to get a bit more truthful when I’m around you, Princess.”

In which Harry is a brooding prince who's scarcely smiled since the death of his mother and Louis is the dashing jester hired to change that.

streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons (7k) 🔒

Summary: I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”Right. This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

Close Enough To Touch by stinky28 (7k)

Summary: “You are killing it!” The stranger shouts in his ear, to which Louis raises a brow, setting up the next transition and song, bobbing a bit in place before glancing over to the stranger and Oh. Red. 

He’s staring right at a very large, oddly tied red bow tie. It takes up the whole stranger’s chest and..it’s bloody brilliant. He fucking loves it. He feels himself break into a giant grin, looking up at Mr. Red Bowtie’s face and Oh. Fuck. 

OR an au where louis is the dj for the met gala after party and harry can’t leave his side.

Hate Me To The Moon by harrystylesandstuff (83k)

Summary: The last thing Harry wanted was to spend his entire summer stuck with his dad's new fiancée and her kids. He wants no more when he learns she's a very religious dictator, raising a sixteen year old nun and a clean cut potential priest ass kisser.

Everything takes a slightly different turn, however, when Harry finds out his future step-brother is actually the rude stranger he caught sucking off a guy in a pub, far from the reserved Christian his mom thinks he is...

AU where Harry is a sexy nerd, Louis is a great actor, and they both pretend to hate each other's guts to convince themselves they're not feeling things future step-brothers shouldn't feel...

hush. by Wankerville (41k)

Summary: “I don't like you like that, Harry.”

“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”

or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.

The Unsuccessful Promise by trysomecats (11k)

Summary: At the end of the previous school year, Louis swore to everyone that he would return in the fall as an alpha. He made this promise especially to his arch-nemesis Harry Styles, who has already presented as an alpha himself. Unfortunately over summer break, the worst thing possible happens: Louis presents as an omega. Now school is back in session and he has to return and face the consequences of pre-determining his status. 

Featuring Liam and Zayn as Louis' doting and exasperated parents.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor (20k) 

Summary: A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'. 

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

OKAY! That’s it for now cause I don’t want this post to be too long (oof i’ve read a lot actually). I have Fic Rec June/July Part Two in drafts and im also gonna collect fics that I’ve read on my kindle (its usually above 50k and make a fic rec with them). Stay tuned and follow my blog so you don’t miss it idk <33. 

PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK ON THIS: I can make: Iconic Fics, My Fav Fics or try and do some themed fic rec. LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D WANT THAT! 

#larry #stylinson #fanfiction #fic rec #fic reccomendations #recommandations #fanfiction recommendation #larry fanfic #larry fanfiction #larry fanfic rec #larry stylinson #one direction #harry styles #louis tomlinson #harry and louis #styles #tomlinson #harry tomlinson #my babies #i read a lot wowo #ao3 #ao3 fic rec #1d #gay fics #aus #stories #fictional characters #fic fest #niall horan #zayn malik

[its-onrandom]

1. When is your birthday?

IN THREE DAYS! (two months ago tomorrow)

2. Where do you live?

The beautiful city of Chicago

3. 3 Things you’re doing right now:

Studying for boards (passed them all, rn listening to deadbeat holiday - green day)

Waiting for my patient (eh, got 6weeks left of clinic till graduation)

Finally doing this thingy (i FINALLY figured out how to access drafts. And man i am so glad i did.)

4. 4 Fandoms that have piqued your interest:

Like i love bobs burgers, arrested development, batman, simon pegg (the entity)

5. How’s the pandemic been treating you?

Honestly i fucking loved it. Apart from like everyone dying which you know ive lost quite a few ppl in my life but man. School was more manageable, i got to see my friends everyday, there was absolutely no traffic, it helped free up time in my babys schedule to actually hang out with me. It has really solidified my relationships and made for a really relaxing way of life. Im not fully ready for things to go back to normal. (hot delta summer watch out!)

6. A song you can’t stop listening to:

Save your tears - the weekend

(that was then, now its long beach- Kota the kid)

7. Recommend a movie:

Shaun of the dead

Mad max fury road

Lego batman

8. How old are you?

About to be 29 (yup)

9. School, university, employment?

4 months from graduating Chiropractic med school. (6weeks)

10. Do you prefer to be hot or cold?

Cold

11. A fact others might not know?

I feel like i am invisible sometimes, like people do not physically see me or remember i exist.

12. Are you shy?

I think i am but i think most ppl would tell you im the life of the party.

13. Pronouns?

She/her/warrior/queen/goddess

14. Biggest pet peeve?

Lack of acceptance of others points of view not being heard.

15. Rate your life from 1-10?

Like the whole thing? 5?

16. Main blog?

This but i wanna change the name. I made it as a place to journal and follow my interests rather than ppl i know. Now i feel dumb when i post shit on here bc ppl actually look at it.

17. Side blogs?

No but i probably should?

18. Is there anything people should know about you before becoming friends with you?

I may over think and not respond for a little bit but thats not on you. I just sometimes feel like my words have no importance. I really am too kind for my own good and get hurt when people throw the slightest bit of shit at me. So just be kind guys!

@earth-bending420 thanks for the tag! I LITERALLY JUST FIGURED OUT HOW TO ACCESS MY DRAFTS HOLY FUCK. So sorry for the wait! I clearly filled this out in may! Haha

I wanna tag @hazzyhead @helianthus-spiritus and @wildflower-genetics

[bangtans-peaceful-piegon]

My Cup of Tea: Prologue

My Cup Of Tea: Prologue | YoongixReader

Warnings for this Chapter: none, just a post-breakup suffering OC who is saved by a whole Min Yoongi

“Coffee is bitter, so people add a little bit of sugar or creamer until it suits their taste. However, once it’s added it can’t be separated. It’s also addictive, it’s your choice to keep it as your poison or to control how much you take. Some people need it, some people don’t...In that case, it really isn’t their cup of tea.”

A/N: im finally deciding to post this after who knows how long sajkdfhd,, tysm for beta reading this for me @jtrbluv !!! again u were a huge help because the tag game you tagged me in gave me the final push to actually post this fic thats been collecting dust in my drafts. ily boo !!! <3 it also took a while because i wanted to do more research for this fic. i dont think ive read about or drank so much tea in my life for the past few months. pls enjoy the prologue everyone!

Word Count: 1,600+

You sat in the worn out leather booth, eyes trained on the steaming mug in front of you.

What just happened?

Something that took five years to grow ended in mere seconds.

Five years of dedication.

Five years of convincing yourself it would work out, that it could be fixed.

Five years spent on a relationship that should’ve ended before it began.

You mindlessly took a sip of your coffee hissing as the hot brew burnt your tongue, mind drifting back to the argument that occurred hours ago...

“You’re never here!”

“Was I not enough for you?”

“Where’s the old Y/N that I knew and loved?”

You weren’t sure about what was said after that except for... “I’m seeing someone else.”

The bruising pain on your tongue began to throb and you couldn’t help the tears that formed.

You never liked coffee, but the café was your favorite place. 

Perhaps it was the enticing aroma that attracted you every time you walked in, or maybe it was the cleverly thought out name that was in the form of childlike puns: Bearly Awake Brew.

Either way, you couldn’t despise coffee any more than you already did in this moment.

“Are you alright?”

You whipped your head up to see a man standing above you.

Through your bleary eyes you could make out a set of kind brown ones shielded by black frames which rested atop a boopable nose. On his head, a black mop of neatly trimmed hair along with soft cheeks paired with a soft jawline.

The man was dressed in a black turtle-neck and long-coat as if returning from a meeting discussing the newest stocks and bonds of business.

After a small, possibly noticeable, ogling of the stranger, you shook your head ‘no.’

He motioned to the seat across from you raising his brows inquisitively, “May I?” 

This time you slowly nodded.

He seemed harmless enough, and even if he tried anything there was pepper spray in your purse.

You sniffled as he took a seat.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No y-you wouldn’t understand.” He leaned forward onto his elbows—a determined furrow in his brow.        

“Try me.”

Who was this guy? He didn’t come off as threatening but somewhat… familiar.

You couldn’t quite place his face or remember his name.

“Not yet, right now I just need a good cry,” you replied sinking further into your seat.

“Alright.” He said, shrugging and not saying much, or really, nothing.

He sat across from you— not making eye contact but quietly observing the café.

Several questions raised in your mind: Where did he come from? Why is he here of all places? Did someone send him with the intention to make you feel even more like a fool than you already did?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked when the silence became a little too long.

“No, not really...” he replied slowly. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, I mean, it’s just-“ you hesitated, “You’re fine,”

“Ok then.”

Silence.

One look at him and it’d be hard to believe women find him approachable, but the man came up to you.

Much less, while you were on the verge of outright bawling in the middle of a café.

“What’s your name?” you asked, initiating conversation. You might as well since he was there.

“Yoongi. Yours?” You hesitated knowing it wasn’t fair to not give him your name.

“I’ll reassure you I’m not a stalker, at least not the bad kind.”

You let out an amused scoff, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckles and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sound.

Were you really that joy deprived?

“Ok then, I’m Min Yoongi, and I’m a stocker. As in I distribute and track merchandise in stores.” he reaches a hand out to shake and you can’t help but stare at it.

“Well go on I won’t bite,” you huffed a laugh, taking his hand and shaking it.

He smiles and you can’t help but return it.

Who is this guy?

“Why don’t we go for a walk?”

You contemplate his offer.

You had just met him but you hadn’t had casual conversation in a while… or hung out with friends for that matter. So maybe it’d be good for you after-

“Sure let’s go,” You replied immediately while standing up, maybe a little too quickly— your chair scratching the wooden floors and making a startling sound as you headed to the door.

He raised his brows in surprise at the sudden burst of energy before trailing behind you, ignoring the stares of café patrons.

“Hey wait up!”

-

This was another reason why you visited the quaint coffee shop often.

The park outside was always bustling with life and energy.

There was a little pond where ducks would glide across its surface diving from time to time, scavenging for the weeds at the bottom, maybe even getting sustenance from people who were ignorant of the ‘Do not feed the ducks’ sign.

It also had an open field where locals and families would enjoy the hot summer days by setting up little camps with blankets and food or even play small games of football or soccer.

While children played in the vast expanse of green, parents would sit back and converse with strangers forming new friendships. It was a place of change and growth and you loved it.

“So,” Yoongi continued as you both walked down the dirt path, “other than your name, and why you were crying in my café, is there anything about you I have yet to know?” Your cheeks flushed red as you shifted your sight to the ground.

“There’s nothing much really,” you replied with a shrug before backtracking his sentence, “Wait, your café?”

“Don’t change the subject. There’s got to be one thing about you… how about your favorite color?”

You purse your lips at the dodging of the question, albeit a basic one, but it was a start. “I guess Rainbow,”

He nodded with a hum, “Wise choice,”

You let out a huff of amusement, “Alright wise guy, what’s yours?”

He pondered for a moment before affirmatively replying, “Black,”

You hummed. “Kind of... dark, isn’t it?”

He turned around and shrugged, “I’d say the rainbow but you took it already,”

You scoffed, resuming your place beside him.

He continued asking basic questions to which you replied and vice versa.

You liked dogs, but him on the other hand didn’t have a favorite animal, at least until he adopted a poodle which made him keen on the creatures, more specifically one named Holly.

You were allergic to bees and he was allergic to cats.

You both enjoyed a variation of music from rap to classical piano music, but the question also led to a debate on what artist is the most superior to all.

Neither of you won, and concluded neither lost with valid points made during said argument.

It only felt like minutes had gone by but wasn’t until you looked at the time that you realized how late it was.

The crowd at the park had begun to thin out while shops surrounding the area were beginning to close for the day.

The once bright sunlight began to fade behind clouds as it began its descent to the horizon.

“I should probably be heading home,” you cut in politely before he could delve into the topic of what they would do in a post-apocalyptic world.

“Oh,” he replied, obviously disappointed.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well could I ask you one more thing?”

You nodded expecting it to be another ‘get to know you’ question or something along the lines of ‘if you had to would cut your arm or leg off?’ but it was something much more complicated.

“Can I get your number?”

You stiffened, unsure how to respond.

You weren’t sure if he was asking as a friend or a man with an ulterior motive.

Could you really do it?

Especially after you had just-

“I’m sorry that came out wrong,” He quickly mended, fumbling his words, realizing your distress.

“I think you’re really great, and I’d like us to continue talking. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company, you know?”

You looked up at him and saw he was offering to be friends that would be nothing more.

You couldn’t deny: you had fun.

For the first time in a long time.

Maybe it wasn’t a relationship you needed, but a friendship.

You smiled, “I’d like that,”

You reached into your pocket pulling out your phone, “Here.”

You both swapped devices, putting in the respective numbers. Once the contact was added, you returned each device to the rightful owner.

He grinned, holding up his phone, “How about a contact photo?” 

You smiled, nodding as you  stood beside him while  he took a selfie of you side-by-side. Once the picture was taken he slid his phone into his pocket. “Thanks,” he glanced down at the phone, that darn smile growing on his face, “Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon?” 

You nodded and finally split ways.

As you began the trek toward your apartment a dopey smile remained plastered on your face.

Maybe everything would be alright.

#bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #rm #jin #suga #jhope #jimin #v #jungkook #btsxreader #yoongixreader #btsfanfic #btsfanfiction #ot7 #fluff #angst #crack #slowburn #bangtanspeacefulpiegonfics #piegon fic: my cup of tea series #prologue #au #alternate universe #reader insert