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lavandermin · 3 years

Text

if all stars fell at once (1) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 3k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warning | eventual smut

The memory comes clear as the crystalline waters at the harbor. That day when rain poured mercilessly upon the land— the boy in a mask whose body trembled under an invisible burden. You remember the dark splotches on his body being washed away by downpour.

Blood.

Polearm supporting his body as it heaved, his face slowly turned to face you as an ominous dark mist accumulated around him. And when you blinked, it was as if he was never there; replaced by rain.

Whether it was the haze of sleepless nights getting to you or reality, you still had yet to know. Curiosity was fresh in your mind. His presence… though brief, held immense power and a tainted aura; enough to instill fear in the hearts of any who witnessed them. But you stood there, unwavering and eyes alight with awe and curiosity despite the rain that hailed mercilessly around you.

Weeks continued, and the image of the boy remained somewhere in your subconscious. Days came and went as your mind remained hazed, clouded with the fleeting memory.

The dark clouds overhead brought in strong winds; a sign of a storm rolling in. The laundry hanging outside would surely be swept away at this rate. Quick on your feet, you hurriedly pulled them off the clotheslines. Yet despite your efforts, a couple handkerchiefs you had embroidered were blown away by a harsh gust of wind.

“Ah…!” Despite your attempt, the wind plucked them out of reach. All you could do was helplessly watch as they were carried by devious winds further down the mountain.

Those were for… Ah, I guess I’ll have to redo those, you pondered anxiously. If they were all to be delivered in 3 days, you would have to stay up fairly late just to finish replacing them.

The candle light cracked and flickered as night crept over Liyue. No use stalling. With a sullen crack of your neck, you shut the windows and got to work. The relentless rain was your sole company as you worked through embroidering the replacements well into the night. Despite the nimbleness of experienced hands, numbness settled in after hours of working tirelessly to replace the delicately embroidered handkerchiefs. And with patterns and threads so intricate, they weren’t something you could rush.

The moon came and went that night, having accompanied you behind the storming clouds as it rained and ceased. Yet, late the next day when you returned from running errands, there upon your open windowsill were two neatly folded handkerchiefs safely held in place by a beautiful stone. You examined them— with no doubt, the ones that were swept away.

And as a breeze picked up once more, you didn’t dare look back but hoped the wind would carry your words to the deserving.

“Thank you.”

That was the first time in over a millennia that Xiao was thanked by a mortal for one of his many silent deeds.

———

Soft colors of fading blue and powdery orange iced the sky with the setting sun. You reminisced past memories fondly as you picked a few herbs from your personal garden. The day was slowly dwindling to a lethargic end, but the land ceased to fall into rest to savor most of what the day had to offer.

“Do you remember that, Adeptus Xiao?” you asked with a fond smile. It was met with silence for a moment before a voice spoke up from the roof of your house.

“So, you knew I was here. Mortals truly are something I cannot understand,” he clicked his tongue, shifting to get comfortable where he rested comfortably on your roof. “Or perhaps, it’s that our ties are too strong. Curious…” He pondered to himself, brows slightly furrowed as he contemplated.

With a stretch of your back you stood up, basket in hand. “I know my grandmother’s home is rather quiet here in Qingce Village, so I’ve noticed the roof has become a favorite spot of yours,” you observed with a small shrug he couldn’t see. “Call it a hunch.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Xiao knew your guess was right. With your home tucked furthest away at the top of the village, there were seldom any onlookers in the tranquil area. A perfect, stress-free corner for him to visit.

With a huff and trained grace, he hopped off the roof on playful winds and followed you indoors. There was still a cautious air about him but never the same as when you first met him all those months ago.

It seemed like you understood him more than he understood you sometimes, and it puzzled him to no end. Mortals were usually more predictable; working in routine and habits as he had seen of the many centuries that passed. Or… at least he thought. It was no secret that he found mortals to be indecipherable.

In the small kitchen, he was presented with an enticing dish that you laid out; his favorite, no doubt. “Here. I’m heading out to the harbor to run some last minute errands, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like,” you reassured him with a smile. “Thank you for keeping me company today.”

At your genuine, radiant smile, Xiao couldn’t help but avert his gaze shyly. Truthfully, it always caught him off guard to be thanked for such trivial things that were somehow meaningful to you.

Before you reached the front door, Xiao called out after you. “If you are out late, summon me— call my name. I will guide you safely home.” With firm reassurance, he held your gaze under piercing amber. “Promise me this. Do not be reckless.”

There was no fighting the grin that lit up your face. “You worry for me, Adeptus?” you teasingly prodded, and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “How unexpectedly cute of you.”

At the gesture, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his composure returned. Pensively, he folded his arms across his chest, and you swore he could practically be pouting.

“The safety of Liyue is my duty as an adeptus. As a tool to be used, and nothing more.”

There was a brief sorrow reflected in your eyes, and before Xiao had a chance to address it, you were hurriedly giving your final goodbyes with your usual warm energy.

“I promise I’ll be safe.”

Left to himself, he accepted your gifted offering of almond tofu. I love the way your eyes practically sparkle when you take that first bite, you once teased.

The memory picked up the thrumming in his chest— uncertainty accompanied by rose-dusted cheeks.

With each delicate bite, his mind upheld more questions. The feelings that burst subtly in his chest— what were they? He searched his heart for answers to describe it. Peace of mind? Loneliness?

As many times as his mind decided to go through the same painful cycle of thoughts, ultimately he was left with more questions than when he started. There were no answers within him.

Such as the moon replaces the sun and the days dwindle into night, he too would let it be for now.

And as the sun slowly retreated more and more behind mountains and thin clouds, Xiao couldn’t help but wonder why he continued to keep near you. A tie foraged with a mortal that strangely did not instill the overwhelming need to leave.

Even the room he was in caused no discomfort or suffocation. The cycle started once again as he wondered, why? He often resided at Wangshu Inn, but never in a room. The rooftop high above any wandering souls was his claimed accommodation. The balcony just below that was seldom used by guests was the only other space he occupied there— eyes able to survey the land from a higher vantage point.

However, here in this small shelter you called home there was none of that, yet he stayed. Curiously, his eyes wandered the room to take in the oddities and trinkets that were used as decorum. The bookshelf across the room posed with great importance, and as he approached it he took in the vast collection of books and small items that decorated some empty sections.

Gloved fingers grazed over the elegant, gold-foil titles of some of the books. Some he has partially read before, or listened to you read aloud while he rested on your lap under the large tree outside.

He found himself plucking one out tentatively, flipping through some pages of a thick storybook with worn corners. Another book from the shelf— a thin book of floral poems and sonnets. His mind idly worked to put together what these books could possibly say about you.

After neatly putting another book away, a small glint caught his eyes. Toward the end of one of the shelf rows was a pile of three books with a precious stone sitting atop them.

Ah, the cor lapis stone he had used when he silently returned the two missing handkerchiefs to you many moons ago. An unknown feeling settled in his chest, warm & persistent. It flourished— euphoric, almost, and not too unpleasant. He wondered if it was somehow related to similar chest pains he’d dealt with. Could he really call it ‘pain’ if it wasn’t truly hurting him? The feeling was foreign and he was utterly clueless.

He moved the stone to check the book underneath, flipping through the pages curiously. Amber eyes indifferently skimmed through a page his finger landed on, curious to what contents the vague title held.

A romantic novel from the looks of it.

The words were needlessly descriptive, the dialogue a little confusing to understand. Such flowery language was a bit bold and the more he read, the more the imagery they tried to paint became vivid in his mind and—

Xiao quickly shut the book, his face warm as he neatly returned the book to its rightful place. Well, it was an interesting book to have in your possession, to say the least. He didn’t have much experience with what it described, but the erotic imagery the dialogue described still left his face a little flushed and brows furrowed as he huffed in indignance at his flustered state.

Mortals do such things? Well, he knew they did, but he was never one to look into it more since he had no reason to.

He had no experience in such intimate matters, nor did he pay much interest in them with his hands usually full on a daily basis. Yet, somehow the thought of you now caused a swirl of emotions inexperienced by him before. Or rather, if he did, he no longer remembered. New questions piled up in his mind.

He shook his head, practically wincing at the odd sensations that kicked him low in the gut as the heat rising high on his cheeks subsided.

“How bothersome,” Xiao muttered to himself with a sigh.

On that same train of thought, he glanced out the window. The sun was merely a whisper that remained as it tucked itself farther behind mountains and dipped below the horizon.

Gloved hands momentarily clenched by his sides, flexing to ease the small seed of doubt. Mortals were unpredictable and reckless, that much he was aware of. With a sigh he watched as the sky over Liyue settled into the tranquility of night.

Though night had fallen, there was still no sign of you returning.

And so, Xiao set off on his usual routine. Out he ventured to vanquish the scattered hotspots of evil activity that surfaced. Be it from subdued gods or his own karma, Xiao relentlessly made quick work of any and all evil.

It was his eternal duty, as bound by contract from the Geo Archon himself—this he knew. If anyone should have witnessed his swiftness as he worked solemnly, they would’ve noticed how he worked just a little harder to clear out any evil nearing your usual route home.

The moon rose high in the sky, a dusty blue as it cast soft light over Xiao’s masked form. His polearm jabbed into the ground and dissipated along with the yaksha mask he donned for battle. The roads that led back to Qingce Village were all cleared, yet still no sign of you.

Approaching the marsh under blue moonlight, his gloved hands created ripples in the calm surface. The reflection of his concerned eyes stared right back at him through the tumultuous ripples that distorted his reflection over playful waters.

Under the watchful eye of the moon, Xiao diligently washed away the impurities that remained on him from battle. Clear waters surrounding him became murky before clearing once again as the blood and grime was carried further down with the current. Xiao closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask under the moonlight, taking in the rare moment of tranquility.

And then it rang out, soft and clear like a wind chime dancing with the gentle breeze.

Adeptus Xiao.

Shrouded by darkness, he answered your summons. As the thin veil of dark entity surrounding him dispersed, he found himself next to a bridge. The waterfall behind him brought a refreshing breeze, and just beyond him he could see Bubu Pharmacy below as well as the harbor.

“You called,” Xiao inquired. “It’s fairly late.”

He wasn’t here to admonish you, though it sounded very much like it. With a playful grin, you smiled up at him from where you sat on the grass next to the bridge.

The way you carried yourself without a care in the world— it was almost endearing how you looked up at him with such fondness.

“Can I ask why you’re here of all places?”

Your nimble fingers continued their work on the flowers you had in your lap, and you almost looked away bashfully. “I wanted to gaze at the stars for a bit,” you admitted sheepishly. “I finished my errands earlier, but then I ran into Mister Zhongli from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and, well… The conversation went on for a while and we ended up here.”

Silently, Xiao took a seat next to you, eyeing the handful of glaze lilies that softly glowed on your lap.

“What did you talk about?” he inquired to fill the silence. He delicately twirled one of the glaze lilies between his gloved fingers.

“Oh… this and that,” you shrugged.

Xiao hummed in response, not wanting to pry into the conversation, until he felt the softness of petals brushing his forehead.

“Mister Zhongli… he showed me how to make this.” There was hesitation in your downcast eyes, and you peered up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you like it?”

“A crown of… glaze lilies,” Xiao noted slowly. Their soft fragrance was delicate and sweet, like the gentle presence of the moon. It reminded him of you. “I’m unfamiliar with mortal customs of exchanges. Is it an adeptal offering?”

You blinked, taken by surprise at the question before sputtering out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh– No, no! This is what we call a gift.”

Xiao furrowed his brows, taking in this vague description. “Hm… I see. What meaning does this gift have?”

You perched your chin on your finger, contemplating. The only ‘gifts’ adepti were familiar with were the offerings that few who went before them brought. Usually, an offering entailed the bargaining of a mortal’s wants and desires to come true. Selfish, wishes he was all too familiar with hearing often.

“Gifts are given to people you consider special,” you started. “To those people who are important to you, usually you put extra effort into the gift. Handmade gifts as well… embody special significance since they hold all the feelings poured into them to be given to your special person.”

The chirps of crickets and running water soothed over the momentary silence as he took in your explanation. Mortal customs were more emotionally driven than he once thought.

“I see. Then,” Xiao delicately tucked the glaze lily he held into your hair. “This is my small offering.”

The rose that dusted your cheeks as your grin lit up your features, it bloomed his chest with that foreign warmth. The weight of reciprocating the gesture without a second thought— he had just openly admitted to considering you a special person. It felt… right.

In the lateness of the cool night, you both sat side by side looking out at the display of glittering stars. He felt as your pulse would briefly quicken under his gloved hand whenever you stole a quick glance at him, and he would offer a gentle squeeze of reassurance in response. Curious, this human next to him— and yet he found himself enraptured by your simple presence.

Across the endless sky, you halted what you were idly chatting about as a speckle of light shot across the sky.

“A falling star… There’s rumors that making a wish on them will help it come true.” Xiao hummed in response, eyes closed in peaceful tranquility. “Hm…”

You pulled your knees closer to you as you contemplated your wish. Xiao watched you with one eye open, observing the way your features subtly scrunched up as you profoundly debated within you what your wish would be.

“So.”

“So?”

“What did you wish for?” Xiao asked quietly.

Mortal desires were usually the same. Wealth, power, lavish items— these wishes Xiao had heard of many times before. Yet—

“I wished…,” you scratched your cheek sheepishly. “I wished for a restful sleep.”

Your cheeks were quick to flush a deep crimson as you heard what sounded like a chuckle next to you. It dawned on you that you had never heard Xiao laugh until now. It was melodic, innocent.

“D-Don’t laugh!” you halfheartedly admonished with a playful huff. “Well, then— What’s your wish, Xiao?”

He pondered for a moment, closed his eyes and spoke soft as the flitting breeze.

“I wish to get to know you better.”

Perhaps he didn’t have all the right words at that moment, but he was bound to discover them sooner or later. Somehow, he was sure you would be the light that guided him the right way to go about these foreign feelings— feelings he was sure weren’t malignant, so he allowed them to persist.

These unsorted feelings for you... they weren’t getting in the way of anything. They were harmless, until proven otherwise.

#xiao #xiao x reader #xiao/reader #genshin xiao #genshin #fluff #developing relationship #pwp #eventual smut #mostly xiao not knowing what he’s doing #zhongli #genshin impact #fic: iasfao #mii writes #I forget how to tag sorry it’s been a while #adeptus xiao #I’ll edit format later

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allyreactions · 4 years

Text

Dating NCT | Mark

- masterlist requests : OPEN

__________________________

║ pairings ; mark lee x fem! reader

║ genre ; fluffy fluff, smut, angst

║ word count ; 2.4k

__________________________

~ A/N : I’ve been so soft for Mark, I just had to let it out. also I think I went a little bit overboard ... I wrote so much. so please pretty please send me your feedback on it because I literally poured my heart into this post. thanks 🥺

~ Admin Ally

* gif credits to the owner *

♡ how you meet :

you first met Mark at the local bookstore

you were browsing through the fiction section, searching for your next read

as you pursued the shelves, you slid your finger across the spine of the books

until landing on the mystery novel you had been searching for

you removed the book from the shelf and added it to the stack of books you were carrying in your other arm

feeling satisfied with your collection, you proceeded to walk over to the lounge area to review the books

you sat down in a large, green armchair and placed the stack of books next to you on the side table

you picked up the first book, the mystery novel you had been dying to get your hands on, and started reading through the authors note on the inside cover

as you were flipping through the pages, glancing at the chapters, someone tripped over your foot

“oh, my bad”

the boy shyly bowed and apologized

“it’s okay,” you replied nodding back

the boy continued on his way and walked over to the magazine section

there he joined two other boys, you assumed they were friends

you shrugged off the interaction and diverted your attention back to your book

about 10 minutes pass by and you’ve glanced over each book you’ve found

you decided to buy the mystery novel and a YA romance novel

you gathered your things before putting the other books back on the shelf

you were back in the fiction section, your eyes scanning the shelves to find the correct place to put away a sci-fi novel when you heard some muffled giggling behind you

you decided not to turn around and focused on finding the section of books that matched the one you were trying to put away

“Johnny, I’m not gonna talk to her” a boy said in a whispered tone

“you’ve been staring at her this whole time, go talk to her!” encouraged another boy, you assumed it was the boy names Johnny

you tried again to ignore the whispers behind you

that is until you felt a tap on your shoulder

you turned around and were faced with a black-haired blushing boy

you glanced at the two boys behind him who were pretending to be inconspicuous, but failing at it

one boy was tall with auburn hair and held a starbucks cup in his hand

the other was slightly shorter with long blonde hair, is that a mullet?

“I um, ..” the boy in front of you spoke

you returned your gaze back to the shy boy

“I uh, my name’s Mark”

you were still very much confused as to what was going on

you didn’t mean to, but the puzzled look on your face must have given the boy a bad feeling because he said

“I don’t mean to bother you, but I um .. I think you’re really cute”

his ears were bright red and he had trouble looking you in the eye

he was so nervous

it’s charming

“I promise I’m not a bad guy, but um, would you lie to go on um ... a date with me?”

♡ first date :

you guys had been talking for a few days leading up to your date

Mark wanted to make sure you didn’t think he was some sort of weirdo for asking you out in Barnes and Noble

and he wanted you to at least get to know him before going out

and the two of you discussed your schedules and were able to set up a date and time for the two of you to go out

and Mark, being the gentleman that he is, decided to take you to a restaurant for your first date

he wanted to keep things sort of traditional and classy and make you feel special

he’s a softie like that

he really wanted to impress you by dressing nice in a blazer and dress shoes

he wanted to prove that he’s more than just the nervous, giggly guy you found in a bookstore

ugh im so soft

anyway, Mark picks you up and you two head to the restaurant together

once you’re seated at your table, the waiter takes your orders for drinks and appetizers

once she leaves, there’s nothing but silent tension

Mark’s hand flies to the back of his neck, nervously fildeling with the hair behind his head.

“you look really nice” he said, his voice was low

you could sense the anxiousness by his tone

“thanks, you look really nice too” you said, returning the compliment

there was another long pause

“how are your books? I.. I mean the ones you bought last week” Mark asked, he was making an effort to start a conversation

the two of you had no problem talking over text, but the both of you are clearly nervous around each other

was it because both nervous and socially awkward? or was it the sexual tension?

who knows

eventually the awkwardness subsided sort of

Mark was still visibly nervous

he kept rubbing the back of his neck and would stutter every so often

it was cute that he was nervous

but it’s all part of his charm

I mean, that’s the reason you agreed to go out with him in the first place

alright, back to your dinner

you were able to have a decent conversation with him

the two of you discussed your family and friends, your hobbies and interests

nothing too wild

but the whole time, Mark listened to you intently

he would ask questions, furthering your conversation

he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you and learning about your interests

it was refreshing and sweet

every so often, he would crack a joke

and they were always so cheesy and dorky

but it was cute, so you laughed along

after your meal, Mark had offered to walk you home before it got too late

he wanted to make sure you got home safely

when you arrived at your doorstep, the two of you exchanged goodbye’s

“I had a good time tonight” you said

“I’m glad, so did I” Mark smiled back shyly

you placed a soft peck on his cheek

his cheeks flushed pink and the tip of his ears turned bright red

“Good night beautiful” Mark said, taking ahold of your hand

he leaned in and gently kissed your forehead

♡ living together / couple stuff :

everyday with Mark is an adventure

and I mean that in the best way

Mark is always full of surprises

sometimes he’ll be sitting in the living room and just start strumming his guitar and sing soft ballads and his voice would echo through the house

or you’ll be fixing dinner for the two of you in the kitchen and you’ll hear his infectious laughter from the living room

you and Mark have tons of inside jokes

he’s always making cheesy jokes

like even if his jokes aren’t funny

you’ll still laugh along because he’s just that cute and clueless

sometimes he’ll come home and share stories about his day

like he’ll talk about the producers he met with and the songs he’s been working on with them

and he’ll get super excited too

“babe, I can’t wait for you to hear the finished product”

not that that he wants validation from you, but hearing you praise him for his work and his music really gives him an ego boost

who doesn’t want to hear the love of their life compliment them on their passions?

also, you’re a huge inspiration and muse to him

now not every song he write its written about you, but when it comes to love songs on nct albums or a superm album, you’re always at the forefront of his mind when contributing to love lyrics

he loves adding little nods to your relationship in his music

it’s his way of showing his love for you

but it’s not always in just lyrics, he can also be romantic in his actions

although he can be a little awkward sometimes

he’s just a sweet puppy okay? be gentle with him

Mark is a big cuddle bug

he’s kind of clingy when he returns home from tour and promotions

and he wants to spend as much time with you as possible when his schedule is clear

mornings with Mark are an experience

he absolutely loves to treat you to breakfast in bed

but Mark isn’t the best chef

so he’ll either try his best at making you eggs and toast

or he’ll stop by your favorite cafe and purchase a to-go order

Mark loves making you feel special in any little way he can

but let’s talk about the night time

after dinner, the two of you like to cuddle up and watch the newest kdrama episode on tvN or just watch a random bad movie on Netflix to make fun of

you’ll of course have a big bowl of popcorn and finish it within the first 10 minutes of the movie

and when the movie is over, you’ll walk to your shared bedroom

and cuddle up under the blankets and snuggle into Marks chest

because of course he’s the big spoon

and you’ll interlock fingers

sometimes when neither of you can sleep, Mark encourages you to talk about whatever is on your mind

because sometimes you have too much going on and you mind is just so full that you can’t sleep

Mark is super understanding and just offers his ear to you

he’ll comfort you if there’s anything serious going on

Mark is just super supportive and loves having deep conversations with you

he loves how these deep conversations bring the two of you closer together because it strengthens your trust in one another

♡ arguments :

Mark doesn’t seem like the confrontational type

and the two of you don’t fight often

like I had mentioned before up above, you and Mark tend to tell each other everything

there’s not much that you hide from each other

and you guys have such a strong bond that jealousy doesn’t really affect you both

but that doesn’t mean that life stresses can’t affect you

now we all know that we tend to take out our frustrations on the people we love

so I feel like most of the bumps in your relationship could be related to the stresses from work and everyday life

like sometimes you just have a bad day at work

you boss is in a mood and takes it out on you, so you bring home that frustration and eventually take it out on Mark

even though you don’t mean to

another example may be the stress about your public relationship with him as an idol

obviously if you received hate, it might have an effect on your actions towards your boyfriend

you become distant and closed off a bit

the comments say that you don’t deserve someone like Mark, and even though you know they’re wrong that doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt

and when Mark realizes how closed off you’ve been, he’ll try to talk with you about it

of course he won’t force you to talk about things until you’re ready

but Mark can be a little fragile, and the fact that you’ve been distant would hurt him

and when he hears that you’ve been doubting that you’re worthy of his love really hurts him

he’ll comfort you and rub the tears from your face

seeing you cry just breaks his heart

♡ sexy time :

okay, now I’ve said this before, but Mark is a soft dom, possibly a switch

listen, don’t cancel me

I feel like Mark puts on a show that he’s super kinky

and his lyrics from ‘whiplash” and ‘drippin’ are proof of that

but when it comes down to the wire, I think he’s actually kind of nervous at first

sex with Mark for the first time is a sweet experience

of course, y’all aren’t going to jump straight into choking on the first night

Mark is a gentleman

a good christian boy

Mark is a soft dom for your first time

he’s very gentle and he takes his time, making sure that you’re comfortable and satisfied every step of the way

he places kisses all over your body, making sure he pays attention to every inch of your body

Mark pays attention to every moan and whimper that falls from your precious lips

he’ll leave love bites and markings in all your sensitive spots

his thrusts are slow and deep, making it easier for you to feel every inch of him completely fill you

I can’t see Mark finishing inside you for the first time, but creampies are definitely something he’s into

*cough* drippin by nct dream and drop by superm *cough*

he really likes creampies

but once the two of you get comfortable with each other and settle into your relationship, that’s when the kinks come out

I would say that Mark is open to experimenting in bed

and even though the both of you are comfortable with each other, Mark is still slightly awkward when talking about sex with you

it’s just who he is

when it comes to trying out things that you’re interested in, that’s when I feel like Mark would take the backseat

he’d sub on those nights

it’s just easier for you to take control when doing things that you’re interested in

but when it comes to you wanting Mark to choke you or spank you, I feel like he would be a little hesitant at first

he just doesn’t want to hurt you

he’s not sure how strong his grip should be around your throat

he’s not sure how hard he should spank you

what level of pain did you want to receive?

but once he saw your response and heard your begging, he’ll start to get into it

he’ll thrust into you hard and fast, his grip around your throat will tighten

he watches as your eyes roll back in pure pleasure, until you finally climax and cry out his name in ecstasy

he loves watching you cum all over him

I can see him wanting to try out cockwarming, but he’s somewhat nervous when brining it up to you

cockwarming is something the two of you do when you’re cuddling after sex

of something that you do in the morning when it’s cold outside and you just want to cozy up and share each other’s warmth

it’s an intimate thing that Mark’s been interested in trying out, and sharing moments like that with you would be pretty meaningful for him

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songsformonkeys · 3 years

Text

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

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

On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

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

If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

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

Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

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

You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

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

The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

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

Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

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

He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

#whiskey/reader #whiskeyxreader #agent whiskey #kingsman golden circle fanfiction #kingsman golden circle #my fanfiction #female reader

31 notes · View notes

caitlesshea · 4 years

Text

keep your brittle heart warm

For @pekoh | @knittingnicky who dropped this amazing fic idea in the server and then graciously allowed me to write it. I hope I did it justice and I hope you like it!

“My favorite.”

Booker nearly drops the book he had pulled off of Copley’s shelf but he saves it before the worn spine hits the ground.

“Huh?”

“Of all the books in here, you picked my favorite.”

Booker looks down at the book, worn not only from age but from use.

“I can…” Booker gestures back to the floor to ceiling shelves that are filled with books.

“No, you should read it.”

Booker looks down at the book again, the author Pierre Al Nova jumping out and taking up residence in his head as something familiar.

“I got that copy at university. Read it so much the spine started to crack.” Copley says as he takes a step closer and pulls two other books off the shelf.

“It’s a trilogy. That’s the first one.” Copley nods to the one in Booker’s hand. “It follows a man dealing with cancer who just found out he’s going to be a father. The second follows a man who’s father gets sent to war and never returns home. The last one, the father is a forger, and the son takes after him. You find out when it’s over, well, I don’t want to spoil it.”

Copley smiles at him but Booker feels like he’s been punched in the gut, the words ringing more true than he wants to examine right now.

“Why is this one your favorite?”

“I wasn’t having the easier time at school, it stuck with me.”

Booker nods and looks back at the shelf and sees more of the same book in different editions. He raises an eyebrow at Copley and Booker swears he sees Copley blushing.

“It’s nothing.”

“James.”

Copley hands him the other two books and stands next to him, running his fingers over the spines of Two Fathers. There has to be at least fifteen of them, not all in English either.

“I collect them, just the first one, not the whole set, but whenever I see a different version I get it.”

“Why?”

Copley shrugs and Booker can tell he’s embarrassed but he nudges Copley’s shoulder with his own and smiles at him.

“It’s just, I lost my father to cancer right before university, and reading this, helped me cope with it. I guess collecting the copies over the years helps me remember him.”

“I’m sorry.” Booker whispers as he holds back tears thinking about his son Jean-Pierre.

The books sit heavy in his hands, the name of the author and Copley’s summary sitting in his chest uncomfortably, like they’re familiar but he doesn’t want to remember why.

“It’s alright. You should read them.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, they’re not the easiest to get through, but I’m sure you’ll find some of it familiar.”

“Familiar?”

“They’re by a French author and they were all published before eighteen twenty.”

Booker opens the cover of each book and right there on the copyright pages are the years Copley said along with the original publishing city. Paris, France.

“Did the author?”

“They’re the only three books ever published. I’ve never been able to find any information other than those books about them.”

“A pseudonym?”

“I think so, yes.”

Booker smiles at Copley as he leans closer to kiss him. Copley sinks into the kiss as Booker balances the three books in one hand and brings his other hand up to caress Copley’s face.

“I’m going to read them.” Booker breathes out when they separate. He smiles at the pleased look on Copley’s face.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. This one if it’s okay?” Booker holds out the worn copy, now realizing it’s wear and tear are from love.

Copley nods and clears his throat. “He reminds me of you.”

“Who?”

“The son. The way he thinks, what he does. I didn’t realize it at the time, obviously, but now thinking about it, he definitely reminds me of you.”

Booker holds the book up to his chest as he kisses Copley again.

“I wish I had them in French.”

“You don’t?” Booker turns to look at the books on the shelf, noticing some in English and Italian, and even one Arabic translation, but no French.

“No, apparently the First Edition was in French but the author gave strict instructions to never have it reproduced in French. I’m sure they exist somewhere but I’ve never been able to find them.”

“That’s…” Booker wants to say strange but something stops him, especially when he realizes the languages the books have been translated into are the languages of his family.

“It’s okay. Just a part of the mystery.”

Booker can see the twinkle in Copley’s eyes. The curiosity. It’s one of the things he loves about him.

The thought hits him like a ton of bricks and he sucks in a deep breath.

“Sébastien?” Copley asks concerned as he steps closer.

“I’m fine. I’m gonna read these, even though it’s late.”

“Mmm.” Copley kisses him once. “I’m gonna head to bed. Don’t stay out here all night.”

“I won’t.”

Booker takes the three books to his favorite seat on their couch. Their couch.

He sometimes can’t believe he gets to have this. Not just this home, but Copley. And with the realization earlier that he does love Copley, more than he ever thought possible, he settles in to read.

Booker reads the descriptions of each book and finds Copley��s summary pretty accurate.

The first one: Two Fathers - A tale of a man finding out he’s going to be a father the same day he finds out he has cancer, surviving to stay alive longer than his own father.

The second one: Winter Wanderer - A tale of a man finding out his father was killed at war, surviving long enough to fight with his brothers.

The third and final one: Forged Love - A tale of a man finding out his father was a forger, surviving long enough to make an honest man of himself.

Something like guilt and sorrow sits in his gut and the familiarity of the words to his own life makes his ears ring.

He chokes down the sob that threatens to escape as he holds the first book. With a deep breath he opens it and begins to read.

Three chapters in and he slams the book down and tries to regulate his breathing.

How could he forget?

All of the signs were right there.

The author, Pierre Al Nova.

His son's name was Jean-Pierre.

Al was taken from Yusuf Al-Kaysani, or Joe as he’s known now.

Nova was taken from Nicolò di Genova, or Nicky as he’s known now.

One book for each of his sons, written in reverse. His sweet boy Jean-Pierre dying of cancer, his own death in the tundra of Russia, his other son’s death in a similar fashion, and finally his life as a forger that brought him to war, his oldest son following in his unfortunate footsteps.

He wrote these books. He wrote them in a drunken haze, barely remembering the words on the page, definitely not remembering he wrote them.

He sent them to a publisher he knew when he was still forging documents, with strict instructions to never publish them in French.

Booker puts his head in his hands. Of course Copley, this beautiful man who has chosen to share his life with Booker, would find these books, love these books, and see Booker in them.

Of course Copley would read these tortured words, the ones Jean-Pierre said to him as he walked away and see Booker.

He pushes off the couch and pads to their room, pausing for a moment to look at Copley’s sleeping form, before he gently wakes him up.

“Sébastien?” Copley’s voice is thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late.” Booker runs a hand over Copley’s head. “I have to go to Paris.”

“Did something happen?” Copley moves to turn on the light but Booker stills his hand.

“No. And I’ll be back tomorrow. There’s something I have to get.”

“I can come with you?”

“No need. I promise I’ll be back.” Booker places a kiss on Copley’s lips as Copley hums and sinks further into the bed.

“Okay.” Copley says sleepily before he reaches out to grab Booker’s hand. “Take the car.”

“You sure?”

Copley nods and kisses Booker’s knuckles and Booker has to stop himself from saying I love you like he wants to.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~~~

Booker is able to catch an early morning train to Paris. He doesn’t dwell in the city that’s brought him so much love and pain, instead getting a car and driving to Marseille. It’s a long enough drive that he’s able to sort through his thoughts.

When he finally pulls up to the house he raised his three sons in his heart clenches. He hasn’t been here in years but it still looks the same.

He trudges inside, taking a moment to let the familiarity wash over him.

He walks into his bedroom and there it is. The trunk he’s had with him almost his entire life. Filled with mementos of his mortal life. Photos of his sons and wife. The original deed to the house.

But most importantly, the original three manuscripts for his books and all of the remaining original French editions.

Booker doesn’t hesitate, he opens the trunk and pulls out the yellowed and worn pages, surprised they’re still intact and vaguely remembers Joe teaching him how to preserve the pages.

He runs his fingers over the words, over the words that Copley has read and loved.

He closes the trunk, picks it up and takes it out to the car. He locks up his house and looks at it one last time and then begins his journey home.

~~~

When Booker walks back into his and Copley’s house the next night his heart nearly beats out of his chest at the sight of Copley reading by the fire.

The reading glasses are a nice touch, too.

“Hi.” Booker says quietly from the hallway and smiles as Copley turns toward him.

Booker hefts the trunk further up in his arms as he walks to the living room. Copley raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as Booker settles next to him on the couch, Copley easily making room for him.

“I like the glasses.” Booker says as he kisses Copley.

Copley smirks and Booker doesn’t want to put a stop to the thoughts currently running through both of their heads but he has to do this.

“Oh?”

“You know I do.” Booker says as he shoves lightly at Copley’s shoulder to get him to scoot back.

Copley takes the hint and settles firmly against Booker’s side.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a trunk.”

“Sébastien.” Copley chuckles.

“I used to keep it at my house in Marseille.”

“Marseille?” Copley looks over at him and Booker waits for the realizations to sink in.

“This is from before?”

“Yeah.” Booker breathes out and opens the trunk.

“Before we look through everything, there’s a reason I went to go get this.”

Booker pulls out the three books, all in French, along with the yellowed pages. He hands them over to Copley, who’s eyes have gone wide as he reads over the words.

“How? I don’t…”

“Would you believe I was so drunk when I wrote them that I literally forgot about them until yesterday?”

“I…” Copley looks at him and Booker silently begs him to understand. “Yes.”

Booker watches as Copley runs his hands over the pages, tracing words long since written but no less true.

“So much makes sense now.” Copley laughs and Booker starts to laugh as well.

Booker leans over and kisses Copley, who hums into the kiss.

“I love you.” Booker breathes into Copley’s mouth.

He can feel it when Copley’s breath catches and he smiles against his lips.

“I love you, too, Sébastien.”

Booker leans his forehead against Copley’s and scoots impossibly closer.

“I’d like to tell you about them.” Booker says quietly, the only sounds he can hear are Copley’s breathing and the crackling of the fire.

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

#the old guard #booker x copley #bopley #mentions of alcoholism #booker forgets he wrote a book that happens to be copleys favorite

64 notes · View notes

furashuban · 3 years

Text

Visitations

Happy New Year, everyone! I wrote one last fic before we enter 2021, which is just the first chapter of a three-part story so far. Hope ya’ll like it!

Like most of my fics, it’s based on off-screen moments that I imagined would happen [during + after the episode “The Yule Lads” from Hilda.]

Pairing: Johanna / Kaisa (I don’t know what their ship name is)

Words: 1907

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469292/chapters/69761052

Summary: Johanna's old book of winter tales is misplaced on the night she promised to give it to Hilda. On her way to the library in hopes of acquiring a new, temporary copy, she is introduced to the keeper of the books, Kaisa, and slowly grows fond of her.

The Trolberg Winter Festival was nearing its end, as the night of the Sonstansil Tree to bloom came under way. The sun cascaded over the city, embellishing the land in a subdued gradient of red and white. Back in Hilda’s home, Johanna had spent much of her afternoon searching for a book of folktales that she promised to give Hilda the night before. She looked through the cabinets and wardrobe in her bedroom, then in the depositories abounding the living room. Everywhere she checked, the book was nowhere to be seen, and Johanna would sigh out of frustration. Perhaps Tontu may have mistaken it as an offering at some point. Eventually, she called for the woolly Nisse as she entered her daughter’s room. Right of her to think that he was there all along.

“You wouldn’t have happened to see my old book of Winter Tales, have you?” she asked. “I’m supposed to give it to Hilda, you see.”

“Hm, I don’t think I’ve read or taken any books in a while.” Tontu replied, sitting comfortably on Hilda’s bed. “But I’ll try and give it a look.”

He then got on his feet and dived into the gaps of the bed, travelling into a portal to Nowhere Space. Johanna tapped her feet and folded her arms. With all the things Tontu had collected over the past couple of months, who knows how long it would take for him to seek the book before complete and utter sundown? But to her luck, he came back out after a minute had barely passed.

“Nope,” Tontu said. “couldn’t find it in Nowhere Space.”

“Never mind then…” Johanna sighed. “Great, I might as well check the library now and hope they have a copy somewhere.”

Grabbing her purse and yellow jacket by the doorstep, she left the building pronto and began a quick journey to find a new, temporary storybook about the ogress Gryla. Even if this was all for a pithy, seasonal legend meant to be told for children, Hilda’s blithesome curiosity was difficult to turn back on. Johanna hoped that the library, the only place she could think of to find a new book in Trolberg, was still open.

After steering through a few intersections, she noticed a prodigious structure up ahead and parked her car just around the corner. A large sign reading “Library” was engraved on top of the building’s doors, and Johanna quickly made her way up the staircase before stepping through the entrance. For a moment, it was as if the building had a voice and convinced Johanna to slow down, not another step should be taken inside. The behemoth expanse of the library, displaying rows of equally immeasurable heaps of books was a spectacle that upraised her skin. The shelves looked like they pierced right through the ceiling as she noticed the second floor, and adjacent to her was the librarian’s desk with a stack of various novels on the counter. Not only was she just realizing how long it had been since her last visit to the library, but also the absence of whoever the librarian was. In fact, it was too vacated and quiet, even for a library. It was hard to tell if she was the only visitor of the hour or if she was one out of a trifling number of people scouring through books. In case it had been the latter, she held back calling for help and proceeded to look for either the book or the librarian on her own.

There were slabs imprinted on the side of every bookshelf that grouped their books into certain genres, and Johanna glanced through each of them as promptly as she could. Classical Non-Fiction. Encyclopedias. Spirituality. Whatever seemed to fit the type of stories her Winter Tales book was, it was too hard to discern right away.

Suddenly, she spots a young woman kneeling below a section of the Coming-Of-Age shelf while rearranging the contents. Beside her was a cart with even more books towering over her. When she stood up, Johanna beheld the women’s grey fashion and short black hair that was purple towards tips, including the headphones lying around her neck that still blasted music. The expression on her face was quite peaceful, and something about it inferred a sense of contentment.

Johanna cleared her throat; her cheeks began to shine a faint tint of red. “Excuse me,” she spoke. “are you the librarian?”

“That is correct,” answered the purple-haired woman. “The library is about to close soon, so is there anything I can help with?”

“Oh, um, I was wondering if you——”

“Ah, say no more,” the librarian suddenly raises her hand up. “Come, follow me.” She simply walks pass Johanna, leaving her feeling quite perplexed. Suppose all she had to do now was listen walk behind her.

They found themselves ambling up the staircase where more books awaited them from atop. Among further rows of shelves, the two finally approached one with a label reading “Folklores”. They stopped walking, and the librarian was face-to-face with a vibrant row of end labels as she hovered her index finger over them. Beside her, Johanna could not help but perceive the music ever so playing on the librarian’s Walkman.

“So, um, what kind of music are you listening to?” she asked.

“Nothing much,” the librarian replied. “just some indie rock.”

“I see.”

“Do you also enjoy listening to it?”

“Well, no. Not often.”

The librarian glanced at Johanna. “I can pause it if it’s too distracting,” she offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to. It’s fine.” The brunette insisted.

Johanna’s heart was pounding strongly. She never had much time to engage in small talk with anyone by her own accord. It was hard for her not to overthink everything she was saying or wanted to say next, and if whether her interaction towards the librarian was even remotely troublesome or necessary. She just stood in silence, waiting and watching the goth woman do her work instead.

“Aha,” the librarian expressed, pulling out a book placed slightly above her. Looking down and reading the cover, she wipes off a spec of dust and turns to Johanna, carrying it over the distance between them.

“How did you know that what I was looking for?” Johanna asked, her eyebrows raised as she took the book from the librarian’s hands.

“Just a tendency that librarians have, I suppose.” she replied nonchalantly. She gawked at the book’s title once again, and a smile formed on her complexion. All of a sudden, the next song on her Walkman blared a slower, mellower tune from a piano and guitar.

“You know, that was one of my favorite books to read when I was younger,” she continued. “the story about Gryla was one I enjoyed especially.”

“Huh, me too.” Johanna chuckled. “I told my daughter the same story before she went to bed, and I promised I would tell her more about it with the book. I lost my old copy, though, which is why I came here.”

“One thing’s for certain, she is going to enjoy the book quite a lot when you give it to her.” The librarian said, despite the Winter Tales book being filled with gruesome imagery.

“Well, if I hadn’t known better, I would say you know who my daughter is as well.” Kidded Johanna.

The librarian flinched and chuckled stiffly. She halted reading Johanna’s thoughts for now, wanting to dodge anything beyond what she required.

“So, I assume that’s the only thing you need,” the librarian then said, finally pressing the pause button on her Walkman. “I’ll check the book out with a library receipt, and you will be good to go…”

_____________________________________________________________

The two made it downstairs with a large desk separating them. The librarian wrote down the contents for Johanna’s receipt and finalized them with a loud, red stamp.

“Okay, you have at least a month to return the book.” She spoke.

“Thank you, Miss…” Johanna paused, trying to read the nametag on the librarian’s cloak.

“You can call me “Kaisa”,” asserted the librarian quickly.

“Right,” Johanna grinned. “Thanks again, Kaisa. You have been a real help to me.”

“It’s no problem,” Kaisa nodded. “I can tell it was urgent, like with most people who come up to me first before finding a book themselves.”

“Right.” Johanna retorted lightheartedly. Looking out the windows above them, she noticed the first spill of snowfall over the now dimming sky. “It’s the last night of the Trolberg Winter Festival,” she continued. “will you be watching the Sonstansil Tree bloom this evening?”

“No, I don’t plan on going.” Kaisa answered. “It’s…not really my thing. I’m just going to spend the night here.”

“Ah, I understand.” Johanna nodded. She could have left by that point; her personal quest to find a replacement for her Winter Tales book had basically succeeded. Yet she remained frozen once again, looking down on the book and then simply on the floor. The brunette never made too much of a personal effort to get out and converse with others since she moved to Trolberg. But after meeting Kaisa tonight, she was sure that neither did the city’s keeper of books.

“I was actually wondering, Kaisa, if you would like to come over to my place and respite when you’re not busy in the library,” she continued. “thought we could talk a little more and I’ll whip up some cucumber sandwiches and tea maybe?”

Kaisa’s heart skipped a beat, as did Johanna’s when she made her proposal. The purple-haired librarian did not know what to say without stammering from her elation. She knew she enjoyed being in the presence of the brunette so far, the patience and warmth in her voice was as inviting as any moonrise she could lay her eyes on. Spending time beyond a mere library transaction did not sound too bad, she thought.

“Are you sure about that?” Kaisa asked.

“Why, yes, of course…!” Johanna rejoined almost cheerfully.

The two women stared at each other, then looking away as they smiled awkwardly.

“I’ll tell you what,” Kaisa said. “when the return policy expires, that’s when I’ll come over, and I can pick up and return the book myself after I hang out with you.”

“Allow me to write down the address, then.” Said Johanna, pulling out a pen and small piece of paper out of her purse. She scribbled the name of her street and apartment number as fast as she could, then sliding it over to Kaisa’s direction. The librarian picks it up; the first thing she reads on the paper was “Johanna’s Apt.”.

“Hm. well, thanks for this, Johanna,” She glanced at the brunette one last time.

“Take care of yourself,” Johanna grinned, slowly walking away from the desk and carrying a new book of Winter Tales. “Don’t get too cold.”

Kaisa kept her eyes on her now-departing visitor. Before she could even reach the doorhandle, she began to stutter. “Oh, a-also,” Kaisa spoke, catching Johanna’s attention. “I know I said I won’t be seeing the tree tonight but…consider that book a present from me,” she smiled the brightest she has ever smiled tonight, realizing how silly she must sound just to cheer up Johanna. “Happy Sonstansil.”

The quickness of her heartbeat made her face glow the most intense shade of pink. Johanna chuckled; she could not wait to see her librarian again one day.

#hilda #hildafolk #johanna hilda #kaisa hilda #kaisa the librarian #fanfiction #my works #netflix hilda #johanna x kaisa #johanna x librarian #realizing how this doubles as a belated christmas fic #stick around for the next 2 chapters !

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aspenflower17 · 4 years

Text

Wrath is The Cat

Hey everyone! This is my first completed fan fiction. It is very long, but I want to make sure I don’t leave you guys hanging with an unfinished fic. It is for Obey Me! and I had fun writing it. Know that I have finished Lesson Twenty regular and Lesson 15 Hard, so there might be spoilers. It also talk about Fruits Basket in this fic, though I don’t think there’s any major spoilers for that (also, if you haven’t read it or watched the new anime, you should!).

I am posting this at midnight, so I apologize if there’s formatting problems or such. Please comment or DM me with anything major you see and I will attempt to fix :)

Satan / Reader

Word Count: 3960

[some angst at the end]

“Are you reading that again?” Satan asked, eyeing the newest volume of My Hero Academia Mc had.

“Technically, this is the first time I’ve read this volume, but yes, I am reading My Hero Academia.“

"Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you read that when you could read real literature?”

“Hold on just a minute,” Mc said, fully shutting the volume so she could face him, “What did you say?”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you find that more compelling and as well written as A Portrait of Dorian Grey.”

“I never said one was superior to the other. Just because on is good does not invalidate the other. By that mode of thinking, no one should make new literature because it would never be as good as the classics, which is, simply put, a stupid idea.”

“Well, what about the issue of the art itself. These over idealized figures that couldn’t actually look the way they do in real life. ”

“Says one of the prettiest men I’ve ever met,” Mc muttered under her breath.

“Hmmm… what was that?”

“Are you talking about uber-boobs and uber-muscles?” Mc asked, hoping he honestly hadn’t heard her.

“Among other things, yes,” Satan said, though she could feel him trying to figure out what she’d actually said.

“Not all manga and comics are like that! It’s a trope in both genres. Before I started reading them, it’s something I thought too,” Mc said, not realizing that her voice had gotten very loud and fervent. Satan sat there, looking as if he was deciding whether to continue the conversation. Mc took a deep breath, her inner fan girl needing to quiet down in order to get through to him, “Have you read any?”

“Yes… Well, I tried once. Levi begged me to read one, so I conceded. Long story short, it was not to my liking.”

“Which one?”

“I believe it was called, That Time I Accidentally Fist Fought A Monster.”

Mc pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she’d subconsciously picked up from Satan. He smiled softly as he recognized the imitation. That was a terrible anime or manga to start someone off on. It had a pretty good story, but it had far too many silly anime tropes for someone like Satan.

“That… That is not the one I would’ve started you out on.”

“And just which one would you have started me out on?”

Mc stopped, and started to think. Most of the anime and manga she liked were romance, and she wasn’t sure if those would be a good fit for him, especially since most of them didn’t have much of a story line besides the relationship. Although, there was one she had been able to get her brother into…

“My first instinct would be Fruits Basket. I’m not sure how much you'd like it at first, but I think if you give it a real chance and read until… the third volume, probably… I think you’d really end up enjoying it.”

“What do you think I’d like about it?”

“Hmmm… You’d probably really appreciate the dynamics between Kyo and Yuki. I also think you’ll appreciate the character depth and development. There’s also a lot of plot intricacies and plot twists. I also agree with a lot of people online that it’s a good introduction to anime and manga.”

“I’ll try it then.”

“Wait… What?”

“I have a feeling you’ve had more success introducing people to new things, especially since you have specific elements you think I would enjoy. So, I will try out your suggestion.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with my impulse reaction? I probably know of one’s you’ll enjoy more,” Mc asked, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. Fruits Basket was one of the first anime she’s found on her own, and it still stood as one of her favorites. If Satan, who’s opinion she really valued, ended up hating it…

“I find I can trust your intuition most of the time. We also have similar tastes in regards to literature.”

“Oh… Well, I do have a copy of the first volume in my room if you want.”

“You have a copy here in the Devildom?”

“Mmmhmm. I ordered the whole set off of Akuzon after I found out Levi hadn’t read it.”

“I see. In that case, sure.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Mc smiled to herself the whole way back to her room. Though she was still a bit nervous, but after hearing Satan praise her tastes in literature, she was feeling more confident, “If I can at least get him to acknowledge it’s worth, I’ll feel accomplished.”

After grabbing the first volume, she thought for a second and grabbed the second. She put them in her book bag, and started on the familiar route to his room. All the brothers had a defined smell to their room, though Satan’s had always been the easiest for her to find. The smell of books started the moment you turned down the hallway his room was on. Standing in front of his dark wood door, she took a deep breath, knocked, then entered.

Satan was not where she had left him, which was kind of odd to her. Carefully avoiding a stack of books she had knocked over on a previous occasion, she started looking around, “Satan?”

There was some shuffling, and then his voice came from above, “You’re back quicker than I thought you would be. Come on up.”

Wait… What? Up the spiral staircase? For real? Everyone knew how rare it was to be allowed up to the second story of Satan’s room. No one went up without express permission. Even Mammon stayed out after being hexed so many times he’d lost feeling on the side of his big toe. Mc had only been up there once, and that was because Satan had wanted to show off his newest rare book. She had only been allowed to sit in the single armchair he had up theorem and she couldn’t touch anything, and for good reason. Satan kept his oldest, rarest, and most important books up there. He had even put a spell on every book up there to preserve them, and, if rumor was correct, a barrier that stopped him from going up there was he was upset. Aside from the few grimories and numerous magic books he had up there were rare human finds as well, all originals or first editions. One of Shakespeare’s folios. DaVinci’s Codex of Leicester. The Babylonian Talmud as well as an exemplified copy of the Magna Carter, both copies that the rest of the world didn’t know existed. A Gutenberg Bible, though his brother’s had no idea he had it. A collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Even an original copy of the Kama Sutra, which Asmo had given to him as a birthday present.

Getting to the top of the stairs, Mc stopped, not wanting to get too close to any of the books. Looking around, she couldn’t repress the sigh that emerged unbidden to her lips. Soft lighting that was perfect for reading with the spines of all the ancient books facing the world. Scrolls rested in their holders on the far wall. And there was the fourth eldest, crouched near one of the shelves, hand to his mouth and a furrow in his brow, thinking hard about something. His blonde hair had an almost golden hue in the light and his green eyes sparkled.

At the sigh, he looked up and smiled, “Go ahead and have a seat.”

Mc nodded and started over towards the chair she’d sat in the one other time she’d been allowed up here, but stopped halfway. The chair she sat on last time was still there, but now there was another chair. They looked fairly similar, being big reading chairs, but the new addition was much less worn and was more feminine in design. Having found the book he was looking for, Satan walked past Mc, and sat in the larger of the two chairs, effectively showing Mc which chair to take. After sitting down, she had to take a moment. It was by far, the most comfortable chair she’s ever sat in.

“I take it you like the chair then. Good, I’m glad,” he smiled, “I made sure it was large enough that you can curl your feet up on the seat like you do when you’re reading.”

“Wait… This is for me?”

“Of course. You need your own place to sit and read when you’re up here.”

Mc was at a loss for words, the gesture speaking volumes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just promise you’ll keep coming over for our reading nights; that’s all I ask.”

“That’s the easiest promise in the world to keep! Of course I will!”

Satan smiled again, one of the real smiles she’d been gifted with more and more frequently, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Now, where’s this book you were talking about?”

“Yes, hold on,” Mc turned and grabbed it from her bag, “So, these are collector’s editions, so I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but…”

“No problem,” Satan replied, taking the book, “If you’d indulge me, I also have a story I want you to read,” and he grabbed the book he had gotten from the shelf, “Do you remember the mystery author I told you about?”

“Yeah. Isn’t his name A. Cohen?”

“That’s the one. Well, I was wondering if you’d read his books while I read yours? I know mystery isn’t necessarily your favorite genre, but -” Satan cut off, looking down at Mc’s hand on his arm.

“I’d be more than happy to,” Mc beamed.

Satan smiled, “Glad to hear it. Now, these books are hard to come by in the Devildom. Please be careful with them. I happened to find a box set of his complete works, so replacing it would be pretty hard. The first one is Blind Intrigue.”

“Got it. Not that I wouldn’t be uber careful with anything you have up here.”

Satan laughed, “Well, I appreciate that,” and he opened the manga volume.

“Oh, did anyone tell you the way to read manga?”

“You read it right to left, correct?”

“Yes, including the speech bubbles. So, you’d read a page like this,” and Mc proceeded to show the way a page should be read.

“Ah. That would have been helpful last time. Thank you.”

“No problem,” and with that, they both started reading. Mc found Blind Intrigue very intriguing, enjoying that it wasn’t just another run-of-the-mill murder mystery. As she got further into the book, she subconsciously slipped off her shoes, and curled her feet up next to her. She almost forgot about the demon next to her. A sudden shift next to her brought her back to reality.

“I finished it.”

“Ah… W… What do you think?”

“It is much better than Levi’s suggestion. I am interested in continuing the series.”

“… If you want, I did bring the second volume with me…”

“You did?”

“Mmmhmm. I was hoping you’d like it enough to want the second volume…”

“Well, you did ask that I read until the third volume, so sure.”

“Mc beamed as she grabbed for the second volume, after safely tucking the mystery novel between the chair and her legs.

“So, are you enjoying Blind Intrigue?”

“Yes! It is really good. I like that it’s an actual mystery novel, a lot like the Sherlock Holmes stories. Most mystery novels revolve around a murder, but since this one dpesn’t, I like it more.”

“Very good,” Satan said while handing her the first volume back, “So, who’s your favorite character?”

“Huh? In Blind Intrigue or Fruits Basket?”

“Fruits Basket.”

“Ah, Momiji.”

“He reminds me too much of Mammon.”

“I… Guess? Just… give him some time. He’s really great.”

“So… who’s your second favorite?”

“Well, Momiji is my favorite favorite. Kyo is my main character favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I have a feeling you’ll really end up liking him.”

“Ah, well, good to know,” Satan said, as Mc handed him the second volume.

There was silence for awhile until Satan burst out laughing. Mc looked up expecting him to share, but he kept reading; a sign he really liked the story. Pretending to go back to reading, Mc snuck a glance at Satan. He had a content smile on his face, and was even further along in the book than she had thought he would be. She smiled, feeling satisfied and a little vindicated in her choice.

Mc was about halfway through Blind Intrigue when she heard Satan shift on his chair. She looked over to find him sitting with the second volume closed and eyes on her. She in turn closed his book, waiting for him to speak.

“If the rest of the series is this high of quality, I definitely want to finish it.”

Satan helped Mc transport the rest of the volumes to his room that day. Though he really loved the series, he would only read it when Mc was around. As she now had a chair upstairs, Satan suggested they read up there, and he began sharing all the amazing books he had up there with her. It was nice for Mc, especially since none of the other brothers knew she was allowed up there. Satan finished Fruits Basket fairly quickly, not quite gushing about how much he loved the characters and story, asking Mc if she had any other manga recommendations. She was more than happy to oblige. Soon, Satan was reading manga whenever Mc was in his room, but only when she was in his room.

He didn’t like manga that were all trope and no substance, but he would try anything Mc brought him since she usually brought “good manga”. One of his favorites was Jo Jo’s Bizarre Adventures. It came as a surprise to him when, one day he declared a series to be his second favorite, after Fruits Basket, and Mc told him it was a series that Levi had gotten her into.

“You know, I’m sure he’d love discussing it with you…”

“Wait. You think I should go waltzing into his room and say, ‘Hey Levi, I really enjoy The Watchman’s Spell and am all caught up on it. We should talk about it’?”

“Well, yeah, basically. I’ll be there to referee, so I can help if needed. I almost never see you two hanging out together, and I actually think you two have more in common than you realize.”

“He just gets so long winded about… whatever. He also acts childish at times.”

“I do those too.”

“You will apologize though. He will not,” Satan paused a second, and then continued quieter, “Plus, it’s different when you do it.”

“Have you ever considered that he doesn’t back down or stop because he feels like no one cares what he thinks or what his interests are?”

Satan stopped, his retort lost. Was that really why? He considered again, and then turned to Mc, “Okay, I’ll do it, but he’s not invited to our reading nights.”

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

Levi didn’t take the news the way Mc would’ve liked.

“Wha… Mc, w-w-what are you t-talking about?”

“I’ve been showing Satan some manga and he’s liked some of them. I think you should show him some too since you know waaaaaaay more than I do. He really loved Watchman’s Spell.”

Levi seemed scared but also irritated, “You had him read Watchman’s Spell?! Why?!”

“I… I thought he’d appreciate it and when he did, I thought you’d be excited to have someone new to talk to about it…”

“I have the entire internet to talk to about it, plus you. Why would I want-” Levi broke off, scowling as he turned away, but then rounded back on Mc, “Are you doing this to make fun of me? Are you tired of me, and so you’re trying to pawn me off on someone else? What, are you using your pact to make Satan act like he’s interested in talking to me?”

“No, Levi, listen to-”

“Glad to hear it, because you’re not getting rid of me, ya normie! You’re the one that wanted to make a pact, so you’re stuck with me! We’re also best friends so you better-”

“Levi!” Mc grabbed his face with both hands, worried as she saw his tail appear. She had expected some jealousy, but nothing this bad.

Levi stopped. Having Mc this close to his face made his mind go completely blank.

“Just because I expanded Satan’s literary horizons does not change the fact we’ve already discussed our wifeoo’s. It doesn’t erase all the time we’ve spent watching and discussing TSL. All the raids we’ve gone on, owning all the noobs… Though I’m kind of a noob… The point is, Lord of Shadows, your Henry is trying to get the Lord of Masks and you to become friends, just like with the Lord of Fools.”

Levi screwed up his face, bringing up his hand to hide behind. Mc let go, feeling the tension leave the room.

After turning and composing himself a bit (Did Mc just hold my face?!?!?!?), Levi turned, lifting his eyes to Satan, who was simply watching him, “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Zeke.”

“He’s actually my second favorite.”

“Who is your favorite then?”

“Brielle.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that she seems like the type of character you’d enjoy. She’s not bad. In fact, I enjoy the dynamic she brings to the tower.”

“Well, she became my favorite when she stopped the entire colony from starting an uprising against Charles when they thought he was keeping them from going home.”

“That was chapter 5 right?”

“Y-yes, actually!” Levi smiled, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, as he started discussing the plot and fan theories with his brother. Satan responded to all his prompts or listened quietly, occasionally adding his own thoughts. He was being more patient than Mc had ever seen him be with Levi, and even seemed to be enjoying himself.

Good, Mc thought, watching the two bond, They both needed someone to get them out of their own head. At least I know I can leave these two without too many regrets.

Mc hadn’t brought up the fact her year was almost up to any of the brothers. She didn’t know if any of them had realized how close it was. She was not looking forward to leaving, but she knew she couldn’t let them just revert back to the way they had been, especially Satan. They had all come too far.

“Mc has an interesting thought on this subject actually. Mc, what are you doing over there? Come over here!”

“Coming!”

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

Satan traced his fingers along Mc’s chair. Of course he’d gotten the chair for her so she could be more comfortable, but also to have a piece of her after she’d left. He hadn’t realized how much it would come to mean to him.

He pulled out his DDD, starting to flip through all the photos he’d snuck of her. Her, next to him. Her being so careful with his books. Her, sleeping in his bed, hair splayed across the pillow. He couldn’t count the number of times her scent had kept him from going after one of his brothers since she’d left.

He knew he was being reclusive, and she wouldn’t have liked that. But, weren’t they all being reclusive?

He sat down, head sinking into his hands, DDD put on the arm of the chair. Why did she have to leave? She had been such a breath of fresh air, so willing to discuss anything and everything with him. He had been able to open up to her, and she’d accepted him just as he was. No strings attached. For the first time in his life, he’d felt unique. Wanted. Needed. No longer alone.

He knew she’d been that way with all of them, but… It felt like she’d specifically picked him. He hadn’t been particularly interested in the human living with them, other than to see what she was doing to his brothers. She had been the one to approach him about books. She had been the one to pick his brain. She had read almost every book he’d suggested. He was special… Right?

He hadn’t noticed the tears until he opened his eyes and only saw a blurry floor, “If I’m special, why didn’t she…”

Mc had given each brother a gift when she left. When it was his turn, she’d whispered something in his ear, but she’d been crying so her words had caught. He couldn’t make out the words then, and even though he’d run them through his head more times than he could count, he couldn’t figure out what she’d said. She’d been so beautiful standing there, fresh tears ready to fall. And then… she was gone.

He had isolated himself for a week afterwards. He hadn’t been in the House of Lamentation though. Too many memories. In some small shack in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere he could release all his feelings and hurt no one.

As he was about to get up, a white blur caught his eye. Blinking, he bent over and picked it up. It was a letter. He turned it over, his heart jumping when he recognized Mc’s handwriting. He traced the letters of his name, hands shaking. He then carefully opened the letter and started reading,

My Dear Satan,

Seems you were able to hear what I said when I left. Good. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get it out.

Anyways, I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t give you your gift in front of everyone else. Not only is it too heavy, but you’re too special to me for them to be part of the gift.

I wish I could tell you everything in my heart right now, but I don’t want to cheapen anything. I will return to you so please be patient and wait until then.

If you would, please go check on Levi for me. I can tell you right now, he’s not okay right now. He gets so lost in his own head and I worry about him. I leave him in your stead until I get back.

Satan, always remember: You are important. You deserve every ounce of love you can get. You also have the right to feel whatever you are feeling. You are not your brother, and I never want you comparing yourself to him, because you are an individual. I may not always be there with you, but never forget: you may not have had control over your birth, but that is not what defines you. You are so much more than a word.

Love,

P.S. I just realized you never told me. Who is your favorite Fruits Basket character?

Satan had never moved so fast down his staircase. Why had he chosen a spiral staircase? He was so eager, he almost knocked over the book pile he was looking for. When he saw what was behind it, he sank to his knees and gathered every Fruits Basket volume in his arms.

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

Levi was moping around his room when there was a knock on the door. For a second he thought it was Mc, but then realized she was gone, making himself sad all over again. He shuffled over to the door, and opened it.

There stood Satan with… manga… and, puffy eyes?

“Hey, can we hang out?” Satan asked.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

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

Update: I now have a part two to this story and here’s the link

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #satan x mc

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rwhague · 4 years

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3 Things I Did Wrong To Publish

Hello There!

This is Part 1 of a series documenting my journey to publication (hopefully!).

I just completed my novel, Midas and the Golden child. It is a YA Thriller that follows the kidnapping of young and naive 15-year-old Katie Thompson, the daughter of an FBI agent. I have sent query letters out am now waiting for responses. In the meantime, I decided to start this blog following the process as well as discussing how this journey will effect my real life. I’m already quite the busy bee. I primarily stay home with my one-year-old, but work one day a week supervising nursing students in the hospital. Our home, however, is a mini-farm, so there is always work to be done between our ducks, chickens, and garden.

This is not the first novel I have written, but I was young and naive like Katie when I wrote the first one. I did not know the difference between publishing and self-publishing, nor the first thing about marketing. This posting, I’m going to talk about what I learned from that experience, and all of the new information that I’ve managed to collect this time. I am sure that as time goes on, I will continue to learn more and more about the world of book publishing, and I hope to share that with you as well.

Wrong About Editing

I believed the publishing group I went with would help me edit the story once it was completed. All I needed to do was propose a good story. Wrong. Wrong! WRONG! That is not how that works. Before you find an agent or a publisher, you must have a polished story--or at least a story that is as polished as you can get it. Editing costs money to the publisher, and if your manuscript is going to cost them too much, they will not invest in you--especially if you are a first time author. The competition is thick, and if they can make more money off of someone else, they will. Even if your story might be better.

If you spill your guts onto a page, it’s going to look exactly like that. Guts on a page. 1st drafts are messy, ragged, and often nonsensical. If you are not willing to go over and over your manuscript--your 600+ page manuscript, with a fine tooth comb writing is not for you. Also--if your manuscript is over 100k words (pages mean nothing), it is too long. WAY too long. Fantasy and Sci-Fi are exceptions, but most stories need to be around 70-90k words. Mine is 89k, and I worked my butt off getting it there. You must be willing to carve up your story and edit out as much as you can. If it does not contribute to the plot, it needs to go.

Editing is tedious. There was a grammar concept I was mistaken on. My critique partners showed it to me, but then I had to go back through my 89k words and correct every single time I did it wrong. It was not a mistake you could find through control+F either. I had to go line by line looking through every end quotation mark in my story to determine if I had formatted it correctly. Blah, that was a boring evening.

Wrong About Publishing/Marketing

I don’t know about you, but when I started out writing, I had in my mind that authors were these people gifted by God with a silver pen and words of angels. If you had the talent, you could put anything on paper and eventually, someone would notice your genius. What a bunch of bollocks. Like most anything, writing is a skill that takes years of practice to improve. A person might have a certain talent in one area or another, but if that talent is not watered and fertilized, it will choke out or remain stagnant. Most recommend writing at least once a day. I have not found this feasible with my current lifestyle, but I do try to write as much as possible. If I’m not putting pen to paper, then I’m at least thinking about my novel and the next thing that I want to write.

With this idea in mind, I picked a publisher that did not require an agent and sent them my manuscript. They accepted it. Easy-peasy, right?

Nothing in writing is easy. If it feels easy, you’ve probably done something wrong. I went with a group who, with my investment of $3,000 would publish me. They promised me they would help me with marketing and would share in the profits once we reached a certain sale total. Here’s the problem though--I already gave them money. If the book were successful, sure they would make more money, but I had decreased their incentive to help me out the gate. They set up an interview for me with a woman on an AM radio station who gave the wrong name on the interview. THE WRONG NAME. How can you sell books if the interviewer is putting the wrong name out? I complained, but it went nowhere. Their other ideas regarding marketing included setting up a Facebook page and Twitter account on my behalf--two things I could easily do myself (and that I had to pay extra for). There were no instructions or advice on how to use these accounts or how to market myself. Needless to say, the book did not have much success. Now it sits on my shelf reminding me of one of my worst financial decisions.

Wrong About Critiques

Critique groups and other readers are huge. Once you’ve stared at the same page for hours and hours, you will not be able to see the mistakes any longer. A fresh set of eyes is key--especially one that knows a bit about writing. I did not have anyone else read my story before attempting to have it published because I was embarrassed to tell people that I was a writer. Don’t be! Own it! It’s a cool world you live in and a neat skill. You’re going to have to sell your book, often that means selling yourself too.

I found a critique group that I like on Critique Circle. There are several other sites out there, but this is my home. You can sign up for a free account. The first two posts put you into the Newbie Queue which almost guarantees that you will receive a bunch of critiques. The benefits of critiques is not limited only to you receiving critiques, but as you critique others, you will begin to see the same mistakes in your own writing better and be able to fix them better. Being critiqued and critiquing has helped me become a stronger writer more than anything.

Another thing that Critique Circle offers in their forums is a critique of query letters. How helpful this section is will hopefully be determined soon!

I will keep you up to date as time goes on, and hopefully we shall see success right around the corner!

R. W. Hague

Writer of Midas and the Golden Child

#ya #young adult #writing #my writing #fiction #publishing #writing mistakes #publishing mistakes #editing mistakes #critique #literary agents #literary

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weirdponytail · 3 years

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I promised pics of the books at the Ket Cave and thus I deliver

There’s a few pics so you can read the titles so if you dont wanna see these I’ve added this handy ‘read more’ for you.

ONWARD!

I’m working on the setup. And yes that light is blinding.

This is just the lower shelf. I’ve decided to keep my Eragon coloring book pages, Peace and Sirenity binder and folder, and all my paints, pencils, art stuff, etc down here.

Main shelf!

Eragon and Eldest, OFC. I’ve not read Prisoner B-3087 yet, I just got it yesterday. Next is Escape from Camp 14, a biography from a defector from NK who grew up in the ‘three generation’ secret prison camps (this isn’t a long past thing, it’s relatively recent). After that is another new book from yesterday, How to Build a Dinosaur because who wouldn’t want that book? Also I’m lacking paleo and geo books. My Side of the Mountain is always worth some rereading imo, it’s a good book.

Now on to the stranger stuff. The Woman with a Worm in Her Head is a book about some of the more whacky infectious disease and parasites and stories about them. The Hot Zone, while completely exaggerating Ebola a disgusting amount, did boost my interest in infectious disease to a level that led me to enrolling as a microbio student when I first started uni before I switched to Geology.

I’d admit, I bought Pandemic ages ago. It was written in the years following the first SARS outbreak, when everyone was terrified of a combination of another SARS outbreak (oh look what we have now!) and post-9/11 bioterrorism fears. I’ve never really been able to finish it, due to being disgusted by the stereotyping at some points, but I figure i should choke through it due to the current situation.

Next is Spillover. 10/10, ALWAYS recommend Spillover, read it (or at least the first two sections or so) BEFORE you read The Hot Zone. It’s gotten more press due to the current pandemic which is good but means it’s kinda hard to find now.

Hey, Fullmetal Alchemist!

The Desserts Cookbook. Mama Cat gave this to me.

What if? is hillarous and super informative. If it helps, the front is a picture of a TRex being lowered into a Sarlacc pit. A guy answers all the crazy questions like ‘what if you collected ALL the elements of the periodic table one by one and placed them in a periodic table?’ (the answer is lots of terrible things) or ‘what if you threw a baseball at the speed of light?’ etc etc. I really recommend this one.

Jurassic Park and The Lost World. Because I’m a motherfluffin’ paleontology student, ofc I needed to read them! I’m actually in the middle of The Lost World right now but had to put it on hold.

The Ends of the World. Extinction events. They’re like crack to me.

Heheheh. Calvin and Hobbs: Yukon Ho! You gotta have some of that in a new place.

Alright, on to the next shelf!

This is the reference shelf. The two books on the far left are Dr Halsey’s ‘journal’ that came with the limited/extra special edition of Halo Reach. I actually bought it off ebay for a ridiculous amount of money that I wont specify, but it was worth it for all the cool notes on SPARTAN-II augmentations (which I frequently use as baseline reference for Modern Inheritance Cycle elves). The second book is The Book of Runes. Because I’ve always had it with me and it always ends up being useful somehow.

Starting from the bottom of the left stack we haaaaave:

A Guide to Nuclear Power Technology: A Resource for Decision Making. Ironically published two years before the Chernobyl disaster. I’ve read the first three chapters. Having a general understanding is a personal choice.

The A to Z of INfectious Diseases. I mentioned I was going into infectious disease before, right? I’ve read that from front to back and wrote some notes on the 2014 Ebola epidemic. I should probably write an entry on Covid at some point too.

Surviving the Wilds of Florida. Quick and handy reference!

That last one is a book about the crafts of Florida’s indigenous peoples. Nice little book.

Second stack, starting from the bottom again!

Gray’s Anatomy. And no, it’s not the compilation of all episode transcripts, that’s the real, dense deal right there. You gotta know what you could be breaking if you’re writing torture and injuries in fanfiction....

Genki 1 and 2. Still trying to keep up with my summer studies.

A Reader’s Guide to R.A. Salvatore’s The Legend of Drizzt. This was given to me by a woman who tutored/babysat me in middle school. She introduced me to LoD, and thus my first introduction to the world of DnD (though i didn’t realize it at the time), and is why I always chose Undercommon as an extra language in DnD. Fantastic series, beautiful art.

That turned book is actually a custom printed book someone made of me through middle and high school and gave as a gift at graduation.

Woop Woop, Eragon coloring book!!

A Practical Guide to Dragons. I think this might be tied in to one of the older DnD editions. It’s still a fun book with lots of different dragons in shapes, sizes and colors.

And that’s it! :D

#adventures of ket #the ket cave #ket's tastes #Ket reads #the future ket cave #lots of infectious disease books #old habits die hard i won't lie

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notsoharsh · 4 years

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The Scholarly Adventures of Brain Girl and Blood Dude || Morgan & Harsh

TIMING: Mid July LOCATION: The Scribe HQ PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @notsoharsh SUMMARY: Morgan and Harsh take a little field trip to read a lot of dusty old books.

Thanks to her super-strength, Morgan was able to pull more books for Harsh’s soul problem than she ever could have on her own. She lead him down the dusty shelves with the glee of a suburbanite at the fancy grocery store, plucking everything that seemed remotely tied to the subject at hand. “This place is pretty amazing, right? I mean just look at everything you can accomplish with some collective organization and, well, deep pockets, probably,” she said, smiling. “We’re casting a wide net, but, obviously, indexes are going to be our friend, so if you can’t find any of our keywords inside, just move it into a nope pile. I went ahead and put it on a flashcard.” She turned and passed him one. “I hope you don’t mind my getting a little excited. I get it, why you might not be, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gravity of the situation. I think I just really miss having a reason to come back here.” And something concrete, even tangible, to hope for.

So this was the Scribe HQ. Harsh hadn’t really thought about the place before, but somehow he had expected it to be harder to get into. Not like he was about to complain about that. He trailed after Morgan, eyes scanning the shelves. “It’s really… something.” He should probably be impressed, but with each title, he had to fight to keep his eyes from glazing over. There was so much. How were they ever going to find anything in here? He took the flashcard with a little nod. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was kinda surprised you were so up for this. And I get that. There’s… a lot in here. Did you come here a lot for witchy stuff?” He grabbed one of the books Morgan had selected, blowing the dust from the ancient cover before opening it and squinting at the writing. “This one looks like it’s just philosophy, ‘what does it mean to be ensouled’. I’m guessing there’s not really a section here with a bunch of how-to guides?”

Morgan continued to look, climbing onto stacks of books on the ground to reach higher ones. “Nope, just my curse. It went back over a hundred years deep so I had to trace back all these obnoxious second and third hand accounts to all the terrible things that happened to my ancestors trying to get down to the source. My mom had a lot of faults, but enforcing a well rounded magic education wasn’t one of them.” She balanced on the tips of her toes to get another book, On the Metaphysical Material of Human Essence, and jumped back down, grimacing only a little when she landed off and had to knock her ankle back into place. “Magic is complicated, Harsh,” she said. “In a good way! Say your magical heart’s desire is the number 20. You can get there by ten times two, or five times four, or fifteen plus five, or nineteen plus one. Lots of roads can get you to twenty. Also, witches are, historically, protective of their grimoires. And some spells are too sacred or too dangerous to really want to pass down, you know? Ooh, seriously, check the index of that philosophical one, though. There might be some reference to some, I don’t know, random Romanian death cult that was known to help vampires restore their souls. That would give us a lead to follow up on.” She moved on to the next shelf before popping her head around the corner again. “I’m kidding about the death cult, by the way. I don’t know if that’s a real thing. But it would be pretty cool if it was, right?”

“Shit. Y’know, as long as I’ve been dealing with this stuff, the whole ‘ancient curse’ thing is still kinda wild. I guess I need to expand my horizons a little more,” Harsh said, watching her scramble about. He should probably offer to help, but… she seemed pretty content. Even he could understand needing a project. That was a lot of numbers, but it sort of made sense. Kind of. “I’ve picked up on the protective thing. That coven weren’t the first ones I tried to go to. A bunch of them would’ve rather staked me than let me see any of their dusty old books. Yeah, got it.” He flicked through the book, finding the index number before scanning the pages again. “I’m not seeing Romanian death cults, but there’s some Latin stuff in here. Well, I think it’s Latin, but all I know is audio, video, disco, so we’re gonna need some translating if that’s actually gonna help much.” He chuckled as he set the book down and grabbed another. “Hey, trust me, death cults are very real. They throw some banging parties, but you never wanna stay too late. There was this one I ran into in Spain, and--well, that’s kind of a long story, but they would’ve been very into you. They were all about the brain eating stuff.” Trailing after her, he scanned the top rows of the shelves. “How about that one,” he said, pointing at an especially thick, black covered book. “Looks like it’s got little skulls on it, that’s gotta be good.”

“Well a hundred years and change isn’t ancient-ancient,” Morgan admitted, still pleased to have impressed a vampire as old as Harsh. “But brain eating death cults? That’s kinda hot. Scary, but I’m okay with side hustling as a cult maiden. But the not staying too late, is that because after midnight is when they start to get actually all murder-y?” She laughed goodnaturedly at his suggestion about the skulls on the book. “You know, I have started coming around to the idea of skull iconography being a good omen, but this could just as well be about fun curses or potions.” She tried to climb up for it, but her short arms weren’t quite up to the task. She gave Harsh a sheepish look. “Maybe you could, uh--? And then we can start unpacking what we’ve bothered before we start looking again? I think thirty books makes for a solid beginning.”

“The ones I ran into always treated their zombies pretty well. One of them even made this cool throne for them, it was pretty badass. But yeah, usually they start the murdering right after Cinderella turns into a pumpkin. You get extra drinks if you bring someone to add to the murder pile.” Harsh decided to leave out just how many extra drinks he had managed to earn. Morgan was strangely cool with the soulless thing, but adding a couple dozen murders to that might push things a little too far. He snorted. “You don’t want to spider monkey your way up there? Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said. It was a little out of reach, even for him, but getting a leg up on one of the lower shelves was enough to grab it. The book was weirdly heavy. Maybe that meant it was extra full of magic or something. Hopping down from the shelf, he brushed the dust from the cover. “Yeah, seems like a good place to start. Which ones look the most ritual-y?”

Morgan pouted as she reached for another, closer book. “I want a throne.Can it be made of bones? My girlfriend has a huge thing for bones. We’d look pretty together on a bone throne.” And for ceremonial purposes, maybe with the right amount of discretion and care with, well, offering selection, it might even be a halfway decent time. She smirked at the thought, wondering what kind of coronets death cults might make for their zombies. She laughed at Harsh’s joke and carried their haul to the nearest desk. The books tumbled from her stack and spread themselves over the surface. “Well, here’s the thing: a ritual with full instructions and ingredients is an endgame, a big ol’ golden goose. But, you know, this might start off with something a little more broad, a little more sketchy. We don’t want to turn our nose away from death cults or norwegian summoning stones or...whatever. Because some weird reference might lead us to the golden egg. And the actual golden egg might be buried in some other archive. And then, because we followed the breadcrumbs, we’ll find it in that other archive faster, and...sorry, I’m mixing way too many metaphors, huh? Anyways, I can start on the books on this end of the table, and you can start on the ones on that end? You read fast, yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure making it out of bones is required actually,” Harsh said, with a thoughtful nod. Honestly, it was a little surprising that White Crest didn’t have any death cults, at least as far as he knew. They didn’t tend to be very public. Attention moving to the books, he grabbed a few and pulled them close, scanning the titles. There were some promising ones in there at least. “Right, it would be boring if it was that easy anyway. This kinda thing seems like it needs a lot of bits and pieces before it goes together. The coven said something about ‘proving myself’ so if you see anything like that, just, I don’t know, highlight it or something. I read pretty quick, yeah.” He flicked through the pages of the first book, an older one laden with dust. The cover might have been green at one point. “Don’t think there’s any eggs in this one. It does have a spell for cooking them though. I think this one’s more basic rituals than the big one we’re after. It does have a little thing about summoning, but mostly just bats and rats and stuff. Any luck over there?”

Morgan was running her finger down the index of the volume in front of her, picking out anything that looked remotely undead or soul related and flipping to the corresponding pages. There were a few technical magic terms that stuck out that she wanted to look at as well before she wrote off the reference as a dead end for this volume. She reached for another and started the process all over again. “Not yet, although, you know, lots of fun stuff about necromancy. And vampire cults, although I guess you already know whatever you want to about that stuff.” She balanced the next one precariously on her lap and started flipping back and forth, one section after the other. “This one looks like it has lots of serious lore, though. We’re talking old myths, druidic shit, some stuff I...can’t actually read. Do you know this language?” She passed the book over to Harsh, finger hovering over the photograph of some runes.

“I guess necromancy is sort of near what we’re looking for,” Harsh said a little dubiously. Honestly, he didn’t know nearly enough about magic to be sure. It seemed to make sense though. They both had to do with souls and restoring them. Or something. “Vampire cults can be kind of cool, but most of them are pretty anti-soul, so I don’t know if they would be super helpful.” He reached for the book, brow furrowing as he scanned the runes. “Sort of. It looks like Sanskrit, just a little off. I wonder if it’s like some ancient dead version.” His fingers trailed over the letters as he muttered to himself, working to muddle through the meaning. “I think it’s talking about a ritual. It’s a lot of sorta spiritual stuff, but… I think some of it sounds pretty legit. Some of the words are kind of weird, but I think it’s saying there are three, uh, three pieces you need to retrieve a soul. And then there’s some words I don’t know, this one just means really, really old. What about the other bits, the druidic stuff?” he asked, passing the book back as he moved closer to read over Morgan’s shoulder.

“You never know. Maybe understanding more about how you get rid of them could help us understand how to get one to come back.” Morgan said. Harsh couldn’t afford to turn down any possibility, and neither could she, if she wanted to be good for more than just cheerleading. But as Harsh looked over the text and translated, Morgan started to wonder if the search would be so hard after all. “That...that might just be what we’re looking for! Look, this sigil here, means spirit, but it’s sort of a vague all encompassing sort of an idea, it could me soul, intuition, intention, but when you look at these wrapped around it, you get a soul’s last regret. And when you look at its placement in the circle, it's on a material vector, an ingredient. But it’s also in the center, where you do the conjuring for what you want to accomplish. And in that place it’s also joined by this little squiggly? It signifies a joining, of two planes or two pieces, you see it sometimes in certain kinds of alchemy circles and binding magic.” Her face cracked wide into a smile. Harsh, it’s a spell to bind a soul to a body! It’s real!” Morgan shot up from her chair, almost toppling the book to the floor. “Harsh, your cure is real! I mean, I’m going to need to do more work to figure out the other ingredients, and we need to follow up on that Sanskrit, because that might be important, and who even knows how we’re going to even get some of these things once we know what they are, but still!” She jumped on her toes to give him as strong a hug as her arms could manage. “It’s possible. And that’s what matters most right now, right?”

“That’s a good point, actually. I sort of always thought of them as being two really different things, but… I’m not really an expert on any of this. I should’ve done way more research ages ago.” Harsh had thought as much before, several times… and then done basically nothing. He’d had two hundred years to learn this and he had thrown all that time away. Oh well, he was doing it now. That had to count for something. He nodded vaguely as Morgan went on, doing his best to follow along. It was a little beyond him, but the pieces he could parse were encouraging enough to make a grin slowly spread across his face. “Holy shit--Morgan, you’re amazing!” Meeting her halfway, he locked his arms around her with enough force to lift her off the ground, spinning the both of them in a circle. “You figure out what we need and I’ll get it,” he said as he set her down, still grinning widely. “Whatever we need, just leave it to me.”

#wickedschatzy #writing #chatzy #morbeckmoreproblems #c: morgan

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

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Stanuary ‘20 - Week Two: Secret

Okay so I won’t be doing all four Stanuary prompts this year. I couldn’t think of something for the last prompt. But I had a pretty good idea for this prompt and I wanted to use it, so, ten days after January ended, here it is. My ficlet for the “Secret” prompt. This prompt takes place in my Angiewolf AU, which, like many of my AUs, is rather developed and has some complexity to it. But all you need to know to read this ficlet is that it’s an AU where Stan is a werewolf.

...And also Stan has a wife and kids and they are also werewolves. Enjoy.

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“Soos!” Soos looked up from the taxidermy gorilla he was currently brushing. “Get your butt in here!” Soos promptly dropped the hairbrush and sprinted for the gift shop. When he arrived, panting, Stan was by the cash register, glaring at a pile of coins Soos had forgotten to put away from the last sale.

“What is it, Mr. Pines?”

“Why didn’t you put these in the register?” Stan demanded, gesturing angrily. The tips of his fingers were bright red and blistered, like they’d been burned.

“Sorry, Mr. Pines, I forgot.”

“Well, get it done with. I can’t handle coins from before 1964,” Stan grumbled. Soos made his way over to the register. As he picked up the coins, he could see that the year they were made was indeed prior to 1964.

“Why not?” Soos asked curiously.

“None of your beeswax, that’s why,” Stan muttered darkly. He stormed off. Soos rested his elbows on the counter, frowning thoughtfully.

Is Mr. Pines allergic to something? Something in coins before 1964? I don’t want to expose him to something and hurt him if he is. Soos’ eyes wandered around the room, eventually landing on a book on coin collecting, resting on a shelf nearby. Well, that’s pretty lucky! He walked over to the shelf, picked up the book, and blew the dust off. 1964. What’s special about that year? It took some doing, but he managed to find a paragraph on coin composition.

“Silver-colored American coins were 90% silver until 1964,” he read out loud. His eyes widened.

Is Mr. Pines allergic to silver? Now that I think about it, have I ever seen him touch silver before? He has watches and necklaces, but those are all gold. Stan stalked into the gift shop again.

“Did you put away those coins?” Stan asked, his arms crossed and foot tapping. Soos put the book back on the shelf.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good.”

“Mr. Pines, are you allergic to silver?” Soos asked. Stan froze. He eyed Soos, but didn’t say anything. “Coins before 1964 were made of-”

“Yeah, silver, I know.” Stan looked away. Soos could hear him grinding his teeth from where he was standing. “Fine. Yeah. I’m allergic to silver. Don’t tell anyone, though. I can’t let anyone know I’ve got a weakness.”

“You can count on me to keep a secret, sir!” Soos said solemnly, doing a salute. Stan grunted. “But, I mean, silver’s a pretty weird allergy. It’s almost- it’s almost like you’re a werewolf.” Soos laughed at his own joke. Stan was silent. “…Mr. Pines?”

“Keep manning the register, kid. I’ve gotta go do…something.” Stan went outside, slamming the door closed behind him. Soos rubbed his chin.

Something’s fishy here. But what?

-----

Soos silently approached the Mystery Shack, utilizing all his powers of stealth, sticking to the treeline. After that day, when he’d found out Stan was apparently allergic to silver, he’d begun to notice other odd things. Some of Stan’s kids were in town for the summer, since they were still in college, and they helped out at the Mystery Shack. Soos had known them for years; some of them were even helping him figure out college applications. But he’d never realized before how much they behaved like wild animals.

Not that Stan didn’t also behave like a wild animal at times. Soos couldn’t count how many times Stan would suddenly freeze and sniff the air, or spin around to stare at a door right before it opened. But while he was paying attention, Soos realized Stan and his family did more than just that.

The growling… Soos had heard of people growling in frustration, but he almost went outside to look for a stray dog before he realized the low growl he was hearing came from one of Stan’s younger children, Emily. At one point, he could’ve sworn she actually barked. Add onto that how much meat Stan’s family ate (Stan’s wife kept inviting Soos over for meals) and the way they all were eerily strong, even those who were slender like Stan’s wife, and Soos couldn’t dismiss the thought. The thought that had started as a throwaway joke to try to impress Stan.

Well, it’s a full moon now, so if he’s really a werewolf, this is the time to check. Soos knew that Stan technically lived in a different building with his wife and kids, but he also knew that Stan had been staying later and later at the Mystery Shack. He fully expected that Stan would lose track of time and be transformed when the moon rose. A howl echoed in the distance. That howl was answered by another one, much closer. A giant wolf emerged from behind the Mystery Shack. The hairs rose on the back of Soos’ neck. His heart jumped to his throat.

Dude… A scar on the wolf’s right shoulder caught the moonlight, shining amidst its gray fur. The exact same gray as Mr. Pines’ hair. The wolf sat back on its hindquarters and howled again. Once more, a howl sounded in response. The wolf got up, shook itself all over, and bounded into the forest. Soos stared silently. For a moment, he grappled with whether or not he would follow the wolf. I didn’t bring any weapons or anything, what if the wolf isn’t Mr. Pines? There was a faint rustle behind him. Soos spun around. There was nothing there. He let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a scream as something with teeth and claws jumped out of the bushes, tackling him to the ground.

“If you’re Mr. Pines, I swear, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Soos said, covering his eyes. There was a loud bark and a series of heavy thuds. The claws pinning Soos to the ground vanished. Soos opened one eye. The gray wolf from earlier was standing over him protectively, growling loudly at the forest. After what felt like an hour, the growl faded from the wolf’s throat, and it looked down at Soos. Human emotion was evident in the wolf’s glowing, brown eyes. Soos swallowed. “Hi, Mr. Pines.” The wolf snarled softly, then, with its teeth, picked Soos up by the shirt collar. “W-where are you taking me?” The wolf marched over to the Mystery Shack, set Soos down on the ground, and then went behind the back of the building. Soos was about to follow when Stan Pines, partially dressed, appeared from the same place the wolf had gone.

“Kid, what the hel- heck was that?” Stan demanded, wearing only his pants. Soos opened and closed his mouth silently. “C’mon, Soos, what were you thinking?”

“You really are a werewolf,” Soos whispered. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was- I had to check and-”

“You coulda gotten killed,” Stan said fiercely. Soos was surprised by the concern in Stan’s voice. Sure, he liked to think of Stan as being a sort of surrogate father, but he didn’t really think that Stan felt protective of him, like he did his actual children. “Over what, a joke? You’re smarter than that.”

“It started as a joke, but then I thought it might be true.”

“Uh-huh. How’d you figure that out?” Stan asked, his hands on his hips.

“I, uh, I watched you and your kids. You guys act like wolves, y’know.” Stan’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “And you guys eat meat like, all the time.”

“Yeah, we-” Stan looked off, clearly frazzled, again startling Soos. He wasn’t used to seeing Stan so flustered. “Hmph. Guess we don’t hide it as well as I thought.” Stan looked back at Soos with a firm gaze, his eyes shining the same way they had when he was a wolf mere minutes ago. “This was still a stupid thing to do. Werewolves are dangerous, but at least none of the ones around here will hurt you. There’s all sortsa other dangerous stuff in the forest during a full moon. You’re darn lucky I was still nearby.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re not even eighteen yet!” Stan continued. “Don’t go trying to kill yourself by taking a full moon forest hike in Gravity Falls! I mean-” Stan shook his head. “I swear, it’s like having another kid,” he muttered to himself. Soos perked up.

“What was that, Mr. Pines?”

“Nothin’.” Stan glared at him. “Look, promise me you won’t do something that dumb again, okay? Your grandma isn’t the only one who’d kill me if anything happened to you. My kids made you an honorary pack member ages ago, so I’d have to deal with them, too.”

“And your wife,” Soos said helpfully. Stan grimaced.

“Yeah. Her too.” Stan sighed heavily. He seemed to have run out of steam, so Soos took the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him.

“How come you turned human again? It’s a full moon?”

“I’ve been a werewolf long enough that I can force a shift if I need to,” Stan mumbled. “And being high up in a pack has its perks, too.” Soos’ jaw dropped.

“Are you the alpha?” he whispered. Stan let out a bark of laughter.

“As if. I’m married to the alpha, though.” He fixed Soos with those steely eyes again. “But I’m not answering any more questions. I’ve got other things to do tonight.” Soos heard a howl in the distance.

“Is that your wife?” Soos asked. Stan shook his head.

“No, it’s one of the kids. Now, get yourself back home so I can take care of my wolf business, okay?”

“Uh…” Soos looked away. Stan groaned.

“You walked here, didn’t you?”

“I had to be sneaky!”

“You-” Stan let out another heavy sigh. “Fine. Gimme a sec. I’ll transform back, then I’ll take you back to your grandma’s house so nothing bites your face off.” Soos beamed in excitement.

“I get to ride your back?”

“No fu- freaking way, kid. I’m carrying you like the pup you are.” Stan went back behind the house, muttering darkly. A second question came to Soos.

“Mr. Pines?” he called. There was a pause.

“What?” Stan asked, exasperated.

“Why didn’t you make me promise not to tell anyone you’re a werewolf?”

“Two reasons, kid. Number one, even in this town, no one would believe you. Number two…” Stan trailed off. “…You’re not the kinda person who would do something to screw up someone’s life.” There was another pause. “Unlike some people I know,” Stan said, so quietly Soos could barely make it out. A warm feeling began to spread throughout Soos’ chest. He grinned, caught up in the kind things Stan had said to him. A large gray wolf emerged from behind the Mystery Shack and stood in front of Soos. Soos beamed up at Stan. Stan rolled his eyes, then, like before, delicately picked Soos up by his shirt and set off.

This is the best night ever!

#uhhhh hopefully Soos isn't too OOC. he's a difficult personality to do properly #Stanuary #Angiewolf AU #Stanley Pines #Soos Ramirez #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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thoughts on the unity saga?

I had occasion to reread it fairly recently, and while distance definitely takes the bloom off the rose I still like it a lot; it overreaches in a big way but what it does accomplish is considerable.

I’m not gonna pretend its failings are negligible: its focus on Jon in the second half while yielding lots of interesting material means Clark himself ends up sidelined for a lot of this, Rogol Zaar is indeed either a total waste of potential or a big fat nothin’ depending on your perspective, all the space stuff was apparently set up in Supergirl,* and the Legion popping in at the end while not thematically out of place is ridiculously jarring. This is Bendis at his clumsiest plotting-wise, and while I wouldn’t go so far as to advocate for Unity Saga being any longer, it probably should have at least had a breather arc breaking it up in the middle. I’ll still stand up all day every day for The Man of Steel (2018) as flat-out excellent but this isn’t something that should end up on the shelf of anyone other than Superman devotees; it’s the mixed bag that pretty much all of Bendis’s good stuff that still isn’t on the Ultimate Spider-Man (with Bagley) tier is.

That being said? I’d say a solid 70-80% of this was a blast, and the first story in Superman proper that I’d call good since 2007 that wasn’t either a one or two-shot or Chris Roberson playing clean-up. Bendis gets Superman himself *exactly* right and believably pushes him to the limit of his mental and emotional endurance without breaking anything, Reis and Prado are off the goddamn charts and Brandon Peterson’s a perfect fit for the intimate sci-fi feel of the Jon and Krypton sections, there’s tons of inventive superpower-driven setpieces, #4 is the closest Superman has ever come to feeling like a shonen manga in the best way, Jor-El is used as best he can be if you’re dealing with him having been brought back in the run before yours and then he’s shuffled back offstage where he belongs, Zod is for the first time an actual character,** and even Adam damn Strange is fun to have around. And nuclear take, everything with Jon in here rules. Could I have stood for him to have a few more years before a big coming-of-age story? Totally, there was so much potential to be mined with kid Jon, but he was around for all of two years in comics that numbers wise overwhelmingly tilted towards ‘lifeless crap if not actively wretched’, so it’s not as though that was a status quo with much weight behind it. As-is it’s the experience of learning how the world really works as you grow up blown up into big mythological Superman terms, seeing the world and learning about the worst in it across spacetime and dimensions, and Jon still stays the good kid he is and in the process pulls off the only Action Comics #1 cover homage I can recall that’s actually thematically weighty instead of an empty Easter Egg. Given the time travel shit it’d be easy to bring back kid Jon, but I sure hope that doesn’t mean taking this new vision off the table, just let ‘em be weird brothers or something.

It’s that thread specifically that lets Unity Saga pull off putting Clark into a position of political power that actually feels sensible and in keeping with his priorities: it’s not a lack of faith in the people of Earth that leads to him deciding he needs to stand for them, as was rebuked in that killer speech in #2. It’s seeing that there’s no kindly galactic community waiting for them but instead just further and bloodier extensions of the exact same problems, problems Krypton and his father were both actively complicit in and possibly victims of. He’s not stepping up because he doesn’t believe in us, but because he’s coming to understand just how heavily the deck is stacked against us - both in the odds of a world figuring thing out for itself ideally and the threats said worlds can come to represent on the cosmic stage - and that not having someone standing up on our behalf isn’t going to be an option. That strong unifying concept isn’t enough to overlook the problems I mentioned, but on the whole even if it comes together awkwardly nearly every individual scene in this is still at worst pretty good, and while there’s no reason to expect Bendis is going to suddenly resolve all his problems going forward #16-18 have already extrapolated on the ideas presented here in exciting and promising ways. Sorry folks, but for now I remain the Bendis Superman liker; for what it’s worth I’ve been ambivalent at best on almost everything else he’s done for DC so far.

* The last time I fell for “this comic focusing on a side character will be about a mystery set up in the main book and will give the big answers” was Red Robin when I first started collecting comics. How could I have possibly expected that this time they’d mean it?

** Historically some of you may cite New Krypton as a counterpoint, to which I’ll say that I don’t care because I haven’t read it and almost certainly never will, but my understanding is that if New Krypton is the closest thing you have to an argument you’re on shaky ground.

#Superman #Jon Kent #Superboy #Brian Bendis #Ivan Reis #Joe Brado #Brandon Peterson #Opinion

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fortheloveofeos · 4 years

Text

The Vanguard - Chapter 7

Happy Holiday Season, y’all. I’ve been doing some writing that I’ve forgotten to post. I’ve got a few things up my sleeve I hope to have up over the season. Hopefully, the girls will be back in full force along with a new story that I intended to be one chapter per Chocobro but probably will be longer because my brain takes off sometimes.

Get ready for angst and backstory.

XXX

Eirwen had been silent since the incident several hours before. Gladio had steered her away from the training area of the Citadel and into the back garden in hopes the quiet and seclusion would give her some peace. For hours he had watched her pace, absently trailing fingers over the stone walls and leaving a trail of ice behind her. Finally unable to watch her self loath any longer, Gladio had dared to speak and ask her where she wanted to go. Her answer had been a vague “anywhere that’s not here” before he had handed her his extra helmet and they sped off through the busy streets of Insomnia. She had followed him almost blindly until she heard him rattle his keys as he opened the door to his apartment - conveniently across the street from the building Prince Noctis had recently taken up residence.

The apartment was entirely decorated in dark leathers, navy blue, and dark wood. Photos of scenic mountain views and pictures of his family were scattered along the walls. “This is...impressive,” Eirwen paused as she caught sight of the floor to ceiling custom shelves that housed an incredible number of books - most bound in hardbacks with titles covering subjects ranging from history to culture to largest number of war and strategy books she had ever seen outside of that section in the Citadel library. She also noted the fair number of fiction books scattered throughout and couldn’t help but see that more than one seemed to be romance novels. Trailing her finger over their spines, she was shocked to see how immaculate the collection was - no creases or signs or weather and absolutely not dust to be seen.

Keys clattered somewhere behind her as Gladio deposited them into the bowl by the door and removed his heavy boots. “Bit of a hoarder when it comes to books. Coffee or tea?”

Pulling an old leather-bound tomb from the shelf, Eirwen scanned the pages of a guerilla warfare strategy written in Ancient Lucien. “Milk?”

“Coconut.”

Nodding, Eirwen carefully thumbed through the yellowing pages. “Coffee, then.” Various sounds of cabinets opening and shutting and then of a brewing coffee pot filtered around her as she scanned the old runes advising on the importance of partners and scouting teams.

Minutes late, Gladio handed her a steaming cup of fresh coffee that was just the right shade of dark caramel. He took up residence on the couch beside her, careful not to touch her but remaining close enough that she might know he meant to offer her comfort if she needed it.

Looking at her now, Eirwen looked nothing like the ice goddess she had appeared to be earlier in the day. Currently, her skin was flushed pink from worry and the heat of the coffee, her blue eyes bright with something akin to anger but without such force. She had tucked her legs under herself and curled into the corner of the couch as if trying to take up a strategic position to protect herself. Gladio had never witnessed such power before today - not even when King Regis had renewed the power that held up the wall protecting the city of Insomnia. It was incredible to think that any mortal could wield such power.

Exhaling, Eirwen closed the book with a sense of finality and caught the slight jump from Gladio out of the corner of her eye. Rubbing at her forehead, she forced herself to speak evenly. “You’re scared of me now?” She hoped she hadn’t sounded angry when Gladio was the only person who seemed willing and eager to listen to things from her perspective without jumping in and trying to give her advice. He was her partner in battle.

“Scared of you?” Gladio readjusted himself so that he more easily faced her but did his best to appear relaxed as he reclined his arms across the back and sipped his cooling coffee. “I’m not afraid of you, snowflake. I’m worried for you. There’s a big difference.”

A humorless laugh escaped her. Leaning forward, she twisted the length of her pale locks between her fingers and focused on controlling her emotions so as not to turn the Shield-in-Training’s apartment into a meat locker. “Don’t worry about me. I’m always ready for battle.” In fact, punching something sounded like a wonderful idea at the moment.

Finishing his coffee, Gladio deposited the cup onto the coffee table before making a show of giving her his full attention. “I’m not doubting your training and abilities - a few rounds with you on the training mats has proven you’re more than capable in that department. What happened earlier between you and Amira has me worried. I felt...whatever that was that you pushed out at her. I watched her freeze over. I saw your expression when you pulled yourself back out.” He didn’t ask her to explain, nor did he demand answers or promises that she wouldn’t do the same to him.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Gladio. I can’t explain it. It happened once, years ago. Amira…” trailing off, Eirwen raked her hands through her hair in frustration as if hoping to pull the words from her head. “It was like she

me when I was completely broken - or at least patched me back together. I wanted to try to do the same for her but I couldn’t find it, I couldn’t find what hurt her.” Tears of frustration threatened to spill from her eyes and she angrily wiped at them. “I couldn’t do the same for her. What good is this power if I can’t even protect the people I care about.” Forcing herself up from the couch, she marched over to the large window looking down on the busy streets below and pressed her forehead against the cool glass hoping to calm herself down. “She’s the only family I have.”

Silence rang out through the apartment. Distant sirens and the sounds of city life filtered between the two warriors to break up the deafening quiet. Gladio, for all his reading and knowledge in how to handle emotional trauma when related to combat, loss, and injury, was at a complete loss. Another not so well kept secret of the Twins: bad family relations. To his knowledge, Eirwen had none to speak of. In the file Cor had given him in preparation for his first mission with her, she was listed as a ward of the Citadel until she had become of legal age. Gladio, on the other hand, was fortunate enough to have an actual family.

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ve got your back now, Eirwen - on and off the battlefield.” Gladio walked past her to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes as he spoke, hoping not to make her feel pressured or closed in. “People care about you.” He had seen the way Crowe, Libertus, Pelna, and Nyx were with her and it was clear they had forged a bond that was deeper than camaraderie or friendship.

Across town and shaking from over exertion and residual tingles of forced magic, Amira leaned against the window from her perch. Purple lightning cracked in the distance each time her fingers twitched. It had been hours since the incident and she could still feel the sorrow in her heart left by Eirwen just before their connection snapped. The bone deep chill had left her almost as soon as it had arrived but now she felt oddly warm in a way that reminded her of post fever.

Nyx had been kind enough to make her a pot of gunpowder tea, piping hot and slightly bitter. She also vaguely noticed that he had switched on the radio to a low jazz to fill the ringing silence of her mind. He moved with familiarity and confidence in her home and she couldn’t help feeling both grateful and annoyed at the same time.

“You don’t need to stay.” She hated how quiet and weak her voice sounded but she felt the need to at least offer him a way out of the current situation. Other than Eirwen, she wasn’t really accustomed to anyone trying to take care of her even after her injury.

“And you don’t need to catch the flu pressed against the window, princess.” Nyx chuckled at the obscene hand motion Amira quickly shot his way and was relieved to see she seemed to be clawing her way back out of herself. “I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out.” When Amira opened her mouth to argue, he was quick to stop her and refocus her attention on the larger goal in hopes of getting her to face the current issue. “We’ll be called back into the field any day now and since you’ve been cleared, I need to know you’re in the right headspace.” If he couldn’t get her to consider the issue as a work-related problem, he would have no hope of getting her to open up about personal issues.

Nodding, Amira worried the warm mug between her fingers. “I told you, I felt something snap. I’ve never felt her so far away - not when we’re separated by thousands of miles.” Assuring her that the connection could be fixed, Nyx urged her to continue. “Whatever she was looking for...something seemed to break her heart.”

“I’m sure she’s just worried about you. The two of you have always had each other -” Nyx stopped short as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The only people that had his number were Glaives and other work associates and the only time it rang was due to some work related issue. Fishing it out from the pocket of his jeans, he was surprised to see Pelna’s name lighting up the screen. “Report,” he offered by way of greeting.

Amira watched and Nyx’s eyes narrowed slightly and his stubbled jaw clenched. Though Pelna couldn’t see him, he nodded several times and made agreeable noises to urge him to continue. After a few moments, Nyx ended the call and ran a hand over his suddenly weary face. This time, it was Amira who was concerned by the sudden quiet. “Seems we have a bit of work to do.”

“Pelna cracked the firewall and found some sort of list he immediately sent to Cor - who informed him that several emissaries from the Empire are planning a visit to attend the Foreign Relations Gala in a few days.” A crease had taken up residence on Nyx’s forehead as he repeatedly ran the conversation through his mind.

Shocked, Amira was silent for a moment as she processed the information. “They’re not planning a confrontation in front of a room of international dignitaries. Could they have realized that I copied that file?”

“There’s no way they’re that stupid. They’re up to something, though. Pelna also reported increased military activity at the northern border - encampments, patrol, the works.” Sighing, he leaned back against the counter and studied Amira closely. “Looks like the vacation is over.” He paused momentarily hoping to choose his next words correctly. “You’re not going to...like what I have in mind.”

Sighing, Amira pulled herself up from the window and stood to face her partner. “I rarely do,” she reassured him.

XXX

Unlike her Twin, Amira had grown up in what anyone on the outside looking in would consider a perfect home. Malcolm and Nadia Everet were the storybook couple - Malcolm hailed from one of the richest, self-made families in all Lucis while Nadia, coming from old Lucian nobility, had been raised as if she herself were next in line to the throne. When the two had married nearly three decades earlier, neither bride or groom had ever laid eyes on the other prior to meeting at the altar and both had approached the scenario as if it were a business transaction to further themselves and their families. When Amira had been born, she had instantly become the new bargaining chip for her parents and had been ushered through years of etiquette classes, ballroom dance lessons, advanced tutoring, fashion and beauty seminars, and all the formal parties her parents could drag her to. Amira had grinned and curtsied through it all, praying to the Six for a way out.

Things had remained tortuously the same until her fifteenth birthday. For years, she had begged her parents to allow her to train with her paternal uncle and member of the Royal Kingsguard, Declan - her justification being that she should know how to defend herself should her pedigree ever put her in harm’s way. Finally, after much pressure from her uncle, her parents had relented and allowed her to train two days a week for a few hours in place of the cardio workout her personal trainer had devised for her. Immediately, she had fallen in love with the raw violence and unstructured chaos that came from physical combat and had shown real promise for someone so young. Her uncle worked with her continuously had been able to nearly ensure her a position within the guard after her college graduation, even going so far as to go against her parent’s wishes for her by involving King Regis himself. She couldn’t have found anything more removed from her original life if she had tried - or at least she had thought until her training accident had sealed her fate.

Uncomfortable falling back into bad memories, Amira kept fidgeting in her seat and pulling at the garment she had hoped she would never wear. The couture gown had been stashed away in its original box since her parents had sent it to her over a year ago in hopes of enticing her back into the spotlight her family thrived in. The saving grace was that the dress was at least mostly black. Made of the highest quality black satin and an overlay of organza, the floor length gown possessed a custom fitted corset with an off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline that dipped between her breasts exposing a bit more skin than she felt entirely comfortable with. The draped split sleeves fell beyond her wrists, perfectly displaying the tattoo of delicate roses twisting and blooming down her arm, and a careful slit ran up the long skirt to her mid thigh on one side. Hand embroidered gold applique leaves and vines decorated the bodice and skirts while the sleeves and trims were encrusted with shimmering gold glass beads. She had paired the dress with a pair of black designer pumps with a scarlet bottom adorned with a criss-crossing straps that buckled just above the ankle and glittering gold and diamond drop earrings. She’d had to buy new makeup as she had avoided wearing it as much as possible in recent years and had opted for a heavy-handed winged eyeliner and a dark plum lipstick.

“If you pull continue to pull at the dress, you’re going to end up ripping it before we get to the gala.”

Sighing, Amira arched a perfectly filled in brow at her uncle Declan who was comfortably dressed in his usual Guard uniform of black slacks and dress shirt. He’d only added a jacket and patent leather shoes to his daily ensemble. “You know how much I hate this. I thought by becoming a Glaive I could wipe my hands of all this.” Contempt leaked into her words as she studied her black and gold manicure.

Chuckling, Declan straightened his jacket and offered his niece a knowing grin. His salt and pepper hair mixed with the warm gold of his eyes had always made him so much more inviting than her father. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to walk in heels already? I thought we raised you better than that.”

Immediately, Amira flipped him off with her glittering gold-tipped finger and flipped her half pinned up hair over one shoulder. “Please. We both know I came out of the womb wearing a pair of six inch pumps.” Thankfully, the sleek black vehicle came to a stop and the back door was opened by a smirking hero. “Don’t start with me tonight,” Amira warned Nyx as she slid across the leather seats and carefully out onto the sidewalk before the Citadel.

Flashing lights erupted from either side of her. As if flipping a switch, Amira smiled for the photographers pushed back her shoulders until she felt the familiar ache beginning in her spine. Declan was quick to take up her elbow as he too paused to allow the paparazzi a moment to capture his image. As the two moved forward towards the grand entrance, Nyx moved to her other side as if to shield her from the cameras. Speaking quickly, Nyx spoke just loud enough for the two Everets to hear him. “Many of the foreign dignitaries have already arrived but no one has spotted anyone from the Empire yet. The others are posted up inside and I will be positioned to see the entire ballroom.” Holding out a gloved hand to Amira, Nyx offered her nearly perfectly clear earpiece. “Pelna just finished these this morning. Don’t worry about it not picking up your voice if you speak quietly, it’s been calibrated to your voice specifically.”

Declan ushered Amira through the glass door before heading to the elevator and pressing the correct floor. “I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but your parents are here and they would like to speak with you. Try not to get blood on the dress.”

Groaning, Amira thumped her head back against the onyx wall of the elevator during her brief moment of normalcy. Tonight, she was once again Amira Everet, heir to the Everet fortune and darling daughter of Malcolm and Nadia. Of course, they had not been briefed on the plan the Vanguard and the Kingsguard were to execute. To them, their daughter was finally coming to her senses. “Six, I am going to need an entire bottle of champagne.” She could already feel the headache beginning to bloom in her temple.

#ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #Gladio amacitia #gladio x oc #nyx ulric #nyx ulric x oc #the vanguard #twins #the twins #Eirwen Lupus #Amira Everet #pelna khara #crowe altius #libertus ostium

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

Text

03.15

March Mendes Madness

Writing prompt #15 Telling him you're pregnant

A/n: this one's a little longer. I kinda got carried away.

***

Dinner at the Mendes household has always been something I enjoyed. I love Shawn's family, and they've literally taken me in from the first time I met them. I'm probably as close to Karen as I am my own mother. Which is why it shouldn't have come as such a surprise when she started asking questions while I helped clean up after dinner.

"Are you okay, y/n? You barely ate anything tonight." She says subtly while she hands me the plate to put in the cupboard.

Yeah, I definitely wasn't keen on the smell of the meat Manny had cooked - it wasn't bad taste wise; Manny is a great cook, but scents were already starting to get to me, make me nauseous. This morning I almost threw up at the smell of my perfume that suddenly didn't remind me of the night Shawn and I first met. It was now way too strong and way too floral and I had to take another shower to get it off me.

"Um, yeah. I'm just not feeling too good, I guess," I fib, even though it's not a total lie. I just can't tell her before I tell Shawn. But the look she gives me tells me that I don't have to.

She already knows.

And that's when my eyes start to fill with tears.

"Come on, sweetheart." She puts an arm around me and walks me up to Shawn's old bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind us. "How far along are you?" She asks, not one to beat around the bush in this situation apparently.

"How'd you know?" I wipe at my under eyes, staring at Shawn's blue covered walls.

"You're looking positively more radiant," she tries, but I shake my head at the answer and she continues. "I'm a mom, y/n. I've been through this before. I know the signs. So how far along?"

I clear my throat, but it does nothing to steady the shakiness of my voice. "About seven weeks. At least that what the doctor said."

"So you did see a doctor?"

I nod, "I didn't trust the tests." I run my fingers over the spines of the Harry Potter books that are still on the shelf. "Even if there were three of them."

"Does he know?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"No," I shake my head, a few tears escaping my eyes. "And I can't tell him, Karen. I can't." I take in a shuddery breath.

"Sweetheart, you have to. It's his baby too."

"But we didn't plant it. What if he doesn't want this? We're not even married. And with the new album he's working on, of course he's gonna want to tour after it comes out. It's just not the right time." I sit down on his bed and try to suck in my sobs. "At least, by not telling him, I can pretend he'll be happy."

"Oh, dear." She sits next to me and wraps me in that motherly hug that makes you feel so safe. "Of course he'll be happy. All he ever talks about is starting a family with you."

"Talking about it and doing it are two completely different things." I sigh, falling back on the bed and covering my face with my hands. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way. We were supposed to be married, and I should have been farther in my career, and Shawn should be ready to truly settle down for a while. He's twenty-four, for Christ's sake. He has his whole life ahead of him. And I mean, I do too. I just graduated college, how is this gonna be okay with him?" I flail my arms in exasperation, hoping that gets my point across.

"Look at me, y/n."

I set my hands on my still semi-flat stomach and look up at momma Mendes.

"You can't plan these things. It never works out that way. You just have to be grateful that it's happening. And I know at twenty-two, fresh out of university, it seems like the world is crashing into you. You feel like you haven't even began to live. But," she takes my hand in hers. "Here, sit up for me."

I do.

"This baby is going to be your most prized possession. Your biggest blessing. And I can tell you, for a fact, that they will be loved immensely by everyone, especially by Shawn."

---

"Whoa, honey, were you crying? What's wrong?" Shawn wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head.

"Can we go home? I'm kinda tired," I ask into his chest.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go." He let out rushed goodbyes, but when we were leaving, Karen held me for a beat too long, which only made Shawn even more worried, I noticed from over his mother's shoulder. "Y/n. Honey, please tell me what's going on. Why were you crying?"

"Shawn, can we please not do this right now?" I reach for his hand, desperately needing the contact to keep me from falling apart.

He nods, but I can seem him stealing cautious glances at me every once in a while. He doesn't press anymore though, and I'm grateful. I just need a little bit longer to collect my thoughts. Because I know I have to tell him tonight or he won't sleep, too caught up in trying to figure out why I won't talk to him.

I'm standing in the bathroom, bare faced, in his baggy t-shirt and pair of leggings, with the three pregnancy tests sitting on the counter in front of me.

There's a knock on the door and I jump, "Y/n. Are you okay?" Shawn says through the hard wood.

"Fine," I call back, stuffing the sticks in the waistband of my leggings. "I'll be out in just a second."

"Okay," he says and I let out a deep breath, turning on the water, just in case he's still standing there. And since it's still dark under the door, I assume he is and wait for him to retreat before I come out.

I find him in the kitchen, dunking a tea bag in his mug. "Hey," I say, leaning against the island.

"Hey," he smiles softly at me. "I made you tea," he says handing me the mug that I didn't notice was sitting next to his.

"Thanks," I take the mug and press my fingers to the warm ceramic. "Shawn," I say after a few minutes of comfortable silence. I'm now sitting on the counter, and he leaning with his back against the sink.

"What's wrong, my love?"

I sigh, feeling the sticks jab at my skin. "I have to tell you something."

"Okay," he takes another sip of his tea before setting it down on the counter. "Is everything okay?"

I discreetly try to pull the tests from my waist band and brush a stand of hair from my face. "That depends on how you react to this."

"You're scaring me, y/n."

I lift my shirt and hold the sticks in my hand, the positive sign facing me.

"Is that-?"

I nod, placing two of the tests on the counter next to me. I hand him the one that very clearly reads 'pregnant.'

"Y/n?" He says after a while of staring at that goddamn stick.

I'm shaking, biting back tears. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He closes the distance between us, taking my trembling hands. "Honey, why are you sorry?"

I sniffle as he wipes at the one stray tear, but I don't dare look at him. "You're not mad?"

"Why on earth would I be mad?" He takes my face in his hands, "look at me, my love." And he says it so gently that I can't not look at him. "Is this why you were crying back at my parents' house?"

"Yeah," I take in a shuddery breath.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared this wasn't what you wanted. With the album and everything, I didn't think it was time for a baby."

"No," he kisses my forehead and wraps me in his arms. "No, I hope I've never made you feel like that. I want this. Of course I want this. All I have ever wanted is to start a life with you."

"Really?" I ask, burying my head in his chest.

"Absoultely. Is this the most conventional time to have a baby? No, but that doesn't mean I don't want it. I do. I am so excited for this, y/n. I promise you I am. I love you. So so much, it's insane. And I'm going to love and spoil this baby for the rest of my life."

I chuckle in his shirt and he pulls me away just enough to see my face. "We are going to be just fine, my love. I promise. This baby will be loved unconditionally. I. Am. So. Happy."

I smile and peck his lips, "Me too," I whisper against his lips. "Me too."

***

I hope you enjoyed because I really liked this one!

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes angst #shawn peter raul #shawn mendes fluff #mendes madness

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jarienn972 · 5 years

Text

A Simple Spell - Chapter Two

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

Tonight, I’m bringing you Chapter Two of my @cssns story. This chapter is a brief flashback to Emma’s actions that will set the rest of the actions into play and I’m going to preface it with a quick disclaimer that the witchcraft portrayed in this story is entirely fictional and is not intended to be an accurate portrayal of Wiccan practices. I've adapted the depiction of magic and spells strictly to fit this narrative. Also, please forgive me if the Latin phrases presented are a little off. I tried my best to ensure the correct translation of the phrases in the spell presented but I'm a little rusty.

Again, I have to give a huge amount of thank yous to the creators of this event for allowing me to stretch my creativity and to my beta, @lassluna for helping me keep this all flowing correctly! Last, but not least, thank you to @cocohook38 for her incredible artwork!

I hope you enjoy Chapter Two!

Also on AO3 and FF.net Chapter One

The Previous Evening

Emma had, from her first visit with the Mills sisters, found it a tad morbid that their coven gatherings were held in a vault deep beneath the crypt of their parents' mausoleum. She could still recall Regina leading her down this path through the fog-obscured graveyard - when it appeared as though Emma was about to be on the receiving end of a very bad practical joke. She'd kept a tight grip on her service weapon as she'd followed the mayor down a carved stone stairway until they reached the faintly illuminated room hidden below.

After several months of meetings here, visiting for various lessons or to simply bear witness the Wiccan rituals, Emma was growing accustomed to the eerie surroundings. There was always a hint of unease in the pit of her stomach when she descended below the land of the dead but it just didn't nauseate her as much now as it used to.

Tonight, she'd trekked through the cemetery after work, running just a little late for the 8pm conjuring practice session that Zelena had planned. Emma was heading into the night a little half-heartedly after nagging memories plagued her all day. Memories that continued to haunt her as she descended deeper into the earth. Sure, making a ball of flames appear out of the palm of your hand was cool and all, but it truly wasn't where Emma's thoughts lay tonight.

She allowed herself to slink down the steps, hoping she'd arrived unnoticed, but as she turned the corner at the vault's entrance, she was met by Regina's disdainful glare.

"You're late, Miss Swan," was the greeting that spewed from the Mayor's tongue.

"Sorry," Emma stammered. "I had some paperwork to finish up before I could leave the office but I got here as quickly as I could." It was mostly a lie, but Regina didn't need to know that she'd actually been contemplating not even showing up tonight.

"Well, we were just about to don our robes. Hurry up and join us in the circle," Regina instructed as she thrust a jet black, hooded brocade robe into Emma's hands. The student accepted the garment from her instructor with a nod of thanks while quickly shedding her crimson leather jacket. She tossed her jacket haphazardly over a wooden armchair as she tugged the robe over her shoulders before proceeding into the main chamber. She was immediately reminded how claustrophobic the vault could be when their entire coven was present.

Theirs was currently a coven of five. As Emma saw it, there was one member for each point of the pentacle inlaid within the marble circle that adorned the vault's floor. The Mills sisters were, by far, the most active and the most powerful practitioners of the group, but they were joined by Ruby Lucas, the waitress at Granny's diner - whom Emma suspected might have a few other hidden powers, and Ingrid, an older witch of the prior generation whose methods and ideals quite often clashed with the Mills sisters. Ingrid was the last remaining member of the original coven, having practiced alongside Regina and Zelena's late mother, Cora, but that was all Emma knew. No one really talked about the old guard much, but Emma knew they'd been a formidable group of sorceresses.

Emma made her way into formation as Regina's flame-haired older sister, Zelena, lit the candles positioned within the circle with a mere flick of the ebony wand clutched in her hand. Emma found some of the rituals a bit unnerving, but like being twenty feet beneath a tomb, she was growing used to the feeling. Her mind was just wandering a bit more tonight than normal.

Today had been an auspicious anniversary for her and the only reason she'd even made the decision to come was that she absolutely didn't want to be sitting around the loft with her overly-positive sister-in-law. She'd decided that a coven gathering in the crypt was preferable to drowning her sorrows down at the Rabbit Hole - and a lot less expensive. Plus, the vault gave her access to collections of books and scrolls that might help her find something useful should she be given permission to search them. She just needed something to keep herself distracted for a little while. Something to prevent her from falling back into any of her old, desolate traps - because tonight was the anniversary of the day she'd had her heart crushed into a million pieces - a story she'd not yet shared with anyone here in Storybrooke.

That heartbreak had become the catalyst that really kicked off her quest to discover her family and the history her mother had hidden from her. She'd believed that solving her own personal mysteries would be the best way to heal after being abandoned by the man she'd thought she'd loved - the man she'd given her heart and soul to. When things had gotten too difficult, he'd bolted, never even saying goodbye and even after a decade, it still stung. His betrayal hurt as deeply as losing her beloved mother only months before he'd run away - and as bitterly as the miscarriage she'd suffered alone. All combined together in such a short amount of time had left her feeling utterly alone. She was now striving to push beyond those losses, determined to reconnect with the family she still had, and then maybe, just maybe, she could find someone to help mend her broken heart. And if magic could help her fill those voids, she was determined to try.

But at this moment in time, she knew she was simply going through the motions as she recited her ritual incantations and completed the mundane tasks asked of her. It wasn't hard for anyone else to see her lack of conviction either. Her heart simply wasn't in it, and as her lackluster attitude caught Zelena's attention, her mentor decided to cut the evening's lessons short rather than keep going with an inattentive student.

"How about we pick things up again on Friday?" Emma heard Zelena ask as the redhead brushed back her hood. Emma heard what she was saying but didn't completely comprehend the words.

"Huh?" Emma replied, startled by the query that pulled her back from her reminiscing.

"I was asking if we should pick this up again on Friday," Zelena repeated with a hint of irritation in her voice. "Weren't you listening to anything I said tonight?"

"Sorry… I'm a little distracted tonight and I guess I'm not feeling particularly well…," Emma fibbed in a feeble attempt to cover her obvious disconnect.

"Why don't you head home and get some rest then?" Regina suggested. "Friday's full moon will allow us to try out some new spells too."

"Actually, if you don't mind, Regina, I'd like to take a look through some of the potion books to see if I can locate a remedy for this lingering tiredness I've been experiencing. Would you mind?"

Regina thought about the idea for a moment, but granted permission. "Just stick to the newer potion books on the shelf under the mirror. Most of those ones are either already written in English or have already been translated from the original text. Most of the older books are written in Latin, Greek, Elvish - you get the idea? Your study of ancient languages hasn't advanced enough for proper translation yet so stick to the ones you can read, okay? Oh, and lock up when you leave."

"I can do that," Emma smiled graciously. "And I promise I won't stay too long, and I'll be sure to clean up and lock everything away."

"See that you do, Miss Swan," Regina stated as she undid the clasp on her robe and allowed the garment to slide off of her shoulders. She draped the robe over her forearm as she gathered her belongings from the desktop beside her apothecary cabinet. "Have a good evening, Deputy."

"Good night, your Highness," Emma quipped as Regina ascended the stairway towards the crypt above. Zelena smirked at the nickname as she followed her sister out of the vault and soon, both Ruby and Ingrid made their exit as well, leaving Emma alone in the creepy confines.

Hearing only the tap of her own footsteps echoing off of the slate floor, Emma made her way over to the towering shelves, teeming with an expansive collection of books ranging from spellbooks to recipe books to a weathered, and likely very dated, set of encyclopedias. She quickly figured out the filing system that Regina utilized and began scanning for a specific volume. Her eyes darted back and forth across the third shelf up from the bottom trying to find a book that Zelena had shown her a few weeks earlier when they'd practiced a few basic potions. She remembered looking at a sleeping potion, a memory potion and even one that was rumored to improve the mood of even the crankiest Storybrooke resident, but Emma wasn't actually interested in potions right now.

While Zelena had been busy preparing the ingredients for one of the potions, Emma had flipped through a few of the yellowed vellum pages, glancing over random potion recipes and spells handwritten in flowing Latin. She was still learning the basics of the language, understanding a few words and phrases that appeared frequently. Words that were unfamiliar were easily translated with an app on her iPhone, although she did know that just having the translation of the words didn't always help as figuring out the grammar could be awkward. She was determined to try anyway.

She located the correct, ornately decorated spine and carefully lifted the gilded book from the shelf, carrying it to the podium the Mills sisters had installed in the center of the vault, directly beneath the chandelier - one of the few nods to modern conveniences down here (although Emma had yet to figure out exactly where the electricity came from as there were no visible power lines around the mausoleum). She took extreme care in opening the cover, turning the pages gently as she sought the specific spell she'd seen before.

Nervousness began to overcome her, causing her to repeatedly glance back toward the stairs as she flipped through the ancient pages. She feared that someone might return to interrupt her and discover that she was perusing books that weren't in the officially-approved collections. She was taking a huge risk that could destroy the trust she'd built within the coven but right now, she had a singular focus.

It took a few minutes in the dimly lit vault to locate the spell she wanted but once she did, she picked up the crystal candlestick with its nearly fully melted ruby red taper from atop the desk and brought it closer to the podium to get a better view as her fingertip dusted across the flowing script. Her excitement and anxiety both increased exponentially as she stared at the spell she hoped might change her life.

Her brain immediately began translating the Latin text, beginning with the instructions preceding the spell itself. Succensa - set alight. Sapiens - sage. Roris marini - rosemary. She recognized the herbs and knew she needed to light them on fire as the smoke from burning them would cleanse the air prior to her reciting the incantation. She retrieved sprigs of both herbs from the apothecary cabinet and dropped them into a charred marble bowl then ignited them with the flame from the candle.

As the fragrant herbs burned, filling the small, subterranean room with their aroma, Emma continued translating the remaining text as well as she could. Verus amor - true love. That was her goal - to find her own true love and fill the void within her heart that she'd struggled with for so many years. Since the moment she'd stumbled across this spell, she'd been determined to cast it when the time was right. She had to. Why else would she have been gifted with these supernatural abilities if it wasn't meant to bring her some semblance of happiness? She wanted the type of love that her brother shared with Mary Margaret - that close companionship that just wasn't going to be found in friendship or familial relationships. She just wanted to be loved and have someone to love in return.

Alone in the vault, she began to recite the Latin phrases from the page.

Verus amor occurant - encounter true love.

Verus amor reveles - discover true love.

Those phrases she translated easily, but there were others she wasn't as certain of.

Verus amor agnocis. She didn't know what agnocis meant, but in the context of the words she understood, it had to be another part of finding true love, which led into the last phrase - Confirmare verus amor - confirm true love.

Once completed, she sealed the spell by pricking the tip of her finger with a needle and allowing three minute drops of her blood to fall atop the smoldering herbs. One for her, one for the love she sought and the third to unite them. Now, all she had to do was wait to see if it all worked - and get everything cleaned up, put away and locked up before anyone became suspicious.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff au #cs ff #cs au ff #witch emma #a simple spell

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this-side-of-midnight5 · 5 years

Text

Dance With Me

A/N: So this is just a one timer and me coming out of my shell for @spidey-babe-parker writing prompt challenge. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Shockingly none other than being too cute for me to endure! (And one curse word. Sue me.)

Summary: Post Endgame with a happy ending for our heroes. No extraordinary losses and a future of gains. Just Bucky being happy for once and on the road to normalcy (or at least semi normalcy).

These past few weeks have been the most perfect. Bliss. That’s how the time felt since meeting Bucky Barnes at the bookstore and the following coffee dates and lunches and dinners that followed in the weeks after. You two just clicked.

You were reaching for a particularly large book on the top shelf when a metallic hand snatched it before your fingers could even brush the spine. The owner of said arm smiled shyly and handed the novel to you. He looked at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

“You looked like you could use a hand.” He looked at the four other hefty volumes in your arm already.

You smiled at him, thankful. You pushed your glasses further up your nose back into place. “Thank you, —“

“Bucky, ma’am. Name’s Bucky.”

“Well, Bucky, I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You added the book to the stack cradled in your arms. You looked at his face. Just realizing how beautiful it was, then quickly shutting that thought down and looking at your shoes. There’s no way someone like him would be interested in someone like you.

“Well, thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate you—“

“Would you have coffee with me? I know you don’t know me, but I’ve been here a couple times, and I see you. Your nose is always buried in a book. You just look like somebody I want to know.” It was his turn to look at his shoes.

“I-I mean, I-I’d like-“ you stopped and inhaled. Your sister warned you about this. You can’t run away. “Of course I would, Bucky.”

His grin was infectious. He walked toward you and lifted the books out of your hands. “Let’s go check out, then.”

***

It was the event of the season. One of the Stark Tower parties. You’d read news articles online about them, looked through the red carpet pictures, never was there a picture of Bucky, though you knew he was there. He told you about how boring he found them. How pointless it was that Tony, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Rhodey, Wanda, Vision, and Bruce would all go downstairs just for the press to take pictures of them heading up to a party in the building that the majority of them already live in. It was absurd. You laughed weakly with him on the phone as you dug through your closet to find a box with your great grandmother’s heirloom pearl necklace and matching earrings. They would look beautiful with your black, one sleeved sheath dress that you knew would drive Buck up the wall. You even splurged and got some cute black satin strappy heels.

“Darlin, I’m gonna pull myself together. How long until you’re here?”

“About 30 minutes, babe. See you soon.”

You looked in the mirror and became immediately self conscious. You weren’t a thin girl, and you weren’t exactly blessed in the chest. Working nights at the hospital didn’t allow for much time in the sun so you always thought you were too pale. Your makeup was simple. You’d tried those makeup tutorials on YouTube explaining how to contour, but you always looked like dirt and eyeshadow was schmeared all over your face. You just couldn’t girl. It made you laugh. You put on your dress and shoes, then took the curlers out of your hair and gave yourself a quick fluff and spray. You were dabbing your favorite “special occasion” perfume on as your doorbell rang.

You heard the knock at the door. Your heart started racing, the nerves were making you semi nauseated.

“Come on, darlin. We’re going to hit traffic around the Tower and you’ll wish I’d brought the bike instead.” He laughed and you could hear him making polite, but uncomfortable, chatter to the nosey old lady next door.

“Hey, Bucky—“ and you froze as you opened the door. He took your breath away. He was wearing a tailored black suit, white undershirt and no tie. His usually unruly dark hair was neatly piled up into a bun to keep off of his collar. You loved his hair long. Your sister often teased you about how it took away from a man’s manliness, but with Bucky being so tall and muscular and just thick, it was impossible. His jawline was covered in a week’s worth of growth and it made your mouth water.

He turned to you with pleading blue eyes.

“Ms. Reynolds, we need to get going. Look after the place for me?” You quickly grabbed your keys and clutch from the table inside the door and locked up.

“You have fun, girly. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She gave you a lecherous grin and wiggled her eyebrows at Bucky. “And if you come home before tomorrow mornin’ I’ll be sorely disappointed. I will have the reason why.”

You laughed and pulled on Bucky’s hand. He stumbled after you not saying a word. He held onto your hand when you went to let go to push the “Down” button for the elevator. You could feel his eyes burning on you, but you knew Ms. Reynolds was still watching you so you refrained from speaking.

Finally the elevator doors opened and you stepped inside. As soon as the panels slid closed, Bucky pulled you roughly into his arms.

“Buck-“ you couldn’t even finish his name before his lips met yours. He’d never kissed you before. You hugged and cuddled when he came over to watch a movie, but never kissed. His soft lips caressed yours for what felt like a beautiful eternity.

You both broke apart gasping. He rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed, as his flesh hand stroked your cheek, his metal hand still gently held your waist.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages. The only reason I haven’t was because I’m trying to take it slow and be respectful, but you look so beautiful right now. I couldn’t help myself.”

You reached up to hold his hand that was holding your face. “That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten today. We should probably go though. Any longer in this elevator and we might not make it to the party and my darling dear Ms. Reynolds will get a show while I unlock the door.”

He instantly straightened and sobered up while you giggled. You knew your neighbor frightened him. She had no filter and it made the incredibly shy and private Bucky nervous. He hated being put on the spot that way. The former Winter Soldier was far too comfortable blending with the shadows.

You pushed the button for the main floor and you were set into motion.

The drive to the Tower was filled with sweet small talk, stolen glances, and lots of hand holding. You offered to sneak in through the garage entrance so he didn’t get bombarded by the photographers, but he declined. He would gladly take the walk of fame as long as you were on his arm.

You silently preened. Bucky never made you feel ugly or fat or not enough. He was always whispering compliments in your ear. A few times he even gave you the wolf whistle just to make you laugh and let everyone know how much he appreciated you. It was a huge relief and a pleasant change.

You saw Stark Tower up ahead, the flashing lights of the cameras and the huge crowd of people. You took your hand out of Bucky’s and rubbed them against your thighs. Your nerves were attacking you again.

“Babe, it’s fine. You look amazing. More than amazing.” He paused to look at you as he pulled up to park and wait for the valet. “You look absolutely ravishing.” He had a delicious glint in his eye, full of promises, as he said it.

“I’m not used to crowds like this or having so much attention on me. I’ll be okay.” He kissed the top of your hand as the doors were opened on both sides for the two of you to get out.

You were immediately blinded by the flashes and the noise and the constant questions you were being bombarded with. Buck found your hand as he rounded the car. His hand sliding up your arm to collect you against him. You plastered on your best kilowatt smile, comforted by the embrace. He looked on with a slight smirk. The only time he let go of you was to do a single photo op with his team. You were taken back into his side as soon as he deemed enough pictures were taken. There wasn’t a lot of talking because of all the noise. As soon as you stepped into the lobby, the roar of the crowd was immediately silenced. All of Bucky’s friends who were more like family looked at you. They were all smiling. Some with big toothy grins, others with small pleased smiles.

“Yo, Metallica! You gonna introduce us or not?” You knew it was Sam from the stories Bucky told you and his face on the news.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N). (Y/N) this is everyone.” He said lazily. You could see the laughter in his eyes as everyone shouted in complaint.

“I’m Nat. This beautiful creature next to me is Wanda. The big guy next to her is Vision. Odd name, I know. He picked it though. This is Clint and Bruce. That bearded shaggy stud grinning like an idiot is Steve. The other grinning idiot is Sam. And this is—“

“Stark. Tony Stark. I need no introduction. Let’s get this show on the road, people. We’ve got a party with our names on it upstairs, and I try to keep myself on schedule for Ms. Potts.” He directed everyone to the elevator. As you were passing him, Tony grabbed your hand and said “We’ve all noticed the change in him these last few weeks. It’s good. He’s tolerable to be around these days. Thank you.” He let go of you as you all gathered into the lift.

The penthouse was beautiful. All windows, comfortable lighting. Plenty of couches on one side, a dance floor on the other. By the bar, you noticed a huge blond man, dressed in foreign clothes not of this world. Thor. The whole gang was here. You felt so insignificant and out of place. You ducked your head and began picking at imaginary lint on your dress, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. Bucky noticed your fidgeting and took your hands into his own.

“Stop, (Y/N). You look amazing. There’s no need to be nervous. We’re just normal people dealing with our own demons.” He laughed.

“I definitely would not use the word normal, darlin’.” You couldn’t help but relax and laugh. “Let’s get a drink, huh? Something sweet and fruity will calm me down.”

“Perfect idea. Thor has brought some of that Asgardian brew. It’s literally the only thing Stevie and I can drink and get drunk on. Tonight I don’t want to be a wallflower. I want to enjoy it with you.” He kissed your forehead.

At the bar, Bucky was greeted by the giant grinning Thor.

“Ah, Soldier! Good to see you again! Come! Drink with me! Where is that Starry companion of yours?” You laughed knowing he was talking about Steve. The star spangled man with a plan. Growing up with a history professor for a father, you knew all about the heroic Captain America.

You ordered a Blue Hawaiian. Your favorite drink. It was so sweet and went down so smoothly. You sipped your drink as you made your way over to a smiling and laughing Natasha and Wanda who were waving you over and pulled you down with them on the couch.

“Hey, sweetie! Bucky has been hiding you like a dragon with his treasure! We knew he was seeing someone but when we asked about who it was, he’d tell us to mind our own and let him be. We’re so glad he brought you!” Nat gave you a gentle side hug. “Let’s get you liquored up and loose lipped.”

“Tell is about yourself, dear.” Wanda said. Her thick Slavic accent was beautiful. The kindness in her eyes relaxed you as well as the drink in your hand.

“Well, I’m 27. I work at the hospital nearby. I’m a nurse. I read a lot... there’s really not much to me.” You sipped again, realizing you had finished your drink and frowned. You felt so dull compared to these people. The Earth’s mightiest heroes.

“Stop. I see what’s going through your head. You’re amazing. What you do? You help people. YOU are a hero. I see what Bucky sees in you. You have such a wonderful heart. So much compassion. Empathy. A will to help and heal. You’re better than us, if I’m going to be honest.” Wanda’s words brought a sheen of moisture to your eyes. You’d never thought of it that way.

“There’s the girl of the night! The one to tame the tin man!” Sam hopped onto the couch next to you. “How did a good girl like you find your way with a bad boy like him?” He laughed.

You looked over at Bucky who was saluting a shot with the god of thunder and his lifelong buddy. He was laughing and relaxed. It was wonderful to see him so happy and carefree.

“He’s not so bad. He’s really a sweet guy. A perfect gentleman, if I’m gonna be honest.” You couldn’t tear your eyes from him.

As if he could hear you talking about him across the room. His eyes quickly met yours and he gave you that sexy lopsided grin that always made you weak at the knees. He ordered you another drink and brought it, his drink and his companions to where you were sitting. He handed you your drink and pushed Sam away from you so he could sit next to you.

“Thor, god of thunder, rock of ages, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).” He slung his arm behind you and began tracing patterns over your back. His touch made you shiver and blush as the god took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, tamer of beasts.” His laugh boomed, reminding you of the thunder he commanded.

“Y’all keep saying things like that, but he’s so sweet!”

The topic of the conversation put his hand over your mouth and pulled you to his chest.

“Hush, woman! I have a reputation to uphold!” He laughed and pulled you in for a quick kiss.

“Am I having a stroke or did I just see the Winter Soldier kiss you?” This was from Clint who had just walked over to join the group lounging on the couches.

“I’ll be damned. It’s happened.” You heard Tony say behind you, but you only had eyes for Bucky.

Buck stood up quickly. “That’s it. I’m taking my girl away. You’ll poison her before I get the chance to do it myself.” He pulled you up into his arms again and the two of you walked across the room.

“What’s gonna happen if I ask you to dance?”He looked somewhat worried. It was too cute.

“Well, Buckaroo, I might just dance with you. I may even fall for you.” You shook your head. You’d had too much to drink on an empty stomach. You shouldn’t have said that. It’s too soon. Six weeks is hardly enough time. But Bucky did something to you. It was indescribable. It was magical.

You were ready to try to take the words back when he wrapped you into his arms and buried his face in your neck. “I’m okay with that, babe. Dance with me.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #marvel #marvel universe #marvel fanfiction #bucky fandom #winter soldier fanfiction #first time writing #be gentle #i love him so much #thankyou

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