Omg I saw the obscure friends-to-lovers prompts and #3 is absolutely meant for Steve. He’s always getting hurt and you’re always the worrier and then suddenly you’re sick and he has no idea what to do because his parents never took care of him

yesss omg I am always here for anything that taps into Steve's childhood issues ahfkhsh <33333

-

First, it was chicken pox at eleven. Despite having it as a kid, his mom wanted nothing to do with a scratching, whining boy, and his dad used work as an easy excuse. So, it fell to you, the next door neighbor who wasn’t much older than Steve, but had already gotten sick years ago and couldn't get sick again. 

Then, strep throat at twelve, which you didn’t catch from him, either. The flu at thirteen, and a nasty cold at fourteen, and so on and so forth. Always Steve in the sickbed and always you tending to him with an ease he was jealous of. 

For someone who walked around the world like a burden, to Steve’s surprise, he didn’t feel that way when you force fed him chicken noodle soup and laid damp cloths on his forehead. 

And also to his surprise, you never faltered. Never seemed scared or overwhelmed, even when you were too young to be playing nurse. 

One would think that after years of being taken care of, some of that caretaking would have rubbed off on Steve. 

It didn’t. And now, you’re the one in bed, with a scarily high fever, your skin gleaming with sweat and your limbs trembling. 

Give him a monster to kill, and he’s good to go. But this isn’t his territory. This isn’t his territory, and he’s trying very hard not to lose his shit, and he’s not doing that well. 

“Maybe we should go to the hospital,” he says. He’s going to wear a hole through the carpet after so long pacing over the same spot, but he can’t stop. “Make sure this isn’t something more serious than the flu.” 

“It’s the flu,” you say. “I just have to ride it out.”

“Ride it out? Really? That’s your medical opinion? Cuz, I gotta say, I doubt an actual doctor would agree with you on that one—”

“Steve,” you say, voice low and raspy. He pauses in his pacing, frowning. “You’re freaking out. You need to sit down.” 

Steve’s frown deepens as he sits on the edge of your bed and immediately pops back up. He’s all nervous energy and twitchy limbs. 

“You made it look so easy,” he says. “When we were kids, you handled it like it was nothing. You never looked scared. Never got pissed at me when I puked on your shoes.” 

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that,” you murmur, eyes half lidded, a tiny smile on your lips. You reach out a hand, and Steve takes it, letting you pull him back down onto the bed. 

Your skin is warm and clammy, but Steve just holds on tighter. Your eyes flutter shut. 

“Our whole lives, you’ve taken care of me," Steve says. "And you did a damn good job of it. But now, the one time you actually need my help, and I’m—” 

Your eyes are all the way open, now. Your brows furrow, and you push yourself half into a seated position against the pillows. 

“Stop,” you say. “Just because I didn’t always need you to… I don’t know, fight my battles, for me, doesn’t mean I didn’t need you.” You swallow thickly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t need you now.” 

Steve wilts, and he draws your hand against his chest, pressing it to his heart. He’s crossing a dozen invisible lines he’s set for himself over the years, but you’re not stopping him. 

“Besides,” you murmur, “I don’t love you for your bedside manner. Which gets a B- at best.” 

And it’s hardly the first time you’ve said those words, but in the last few years, love came less and less on either side. For Steve, because it meant more than it used to, and saying it like he would to a friend felt like some kind of betrayal. 

This is different. The hesitance in your tone and the quick aversion of your gaze. 

“You—” Steve starts.

“Don’t make me repeat it,” you say. “I know you heard me.” 

Steve inhales. Holds his breath for a long moment and gathers his courage. 

“I did,” he says. “And I love you too.”

You smile, and your eyes flutter shut, but not before you say, “I know.”  

A laugh slips out of Steve’s mouth, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your skin warm. And even though your eyes are shut, he smiles back.

Archons Reacting To Their Creator Singing Pt. 2

Part 1 [Venti, Zhongli, Ei and Nahida] || Part 2 [Furina] (You're Here!)

Author's Note: 4.2 Update Spoilers! You've been warned! Song used: "Curses" by The Crane Wives. No beta, we die like my heart while playing this quest.

Update: I changed the verse weeee. Also corrected a couple of mistakes.

Content Warning(s): None.

Other Notes: Default SAGAU / GN!Reader / Drabble / 800+ Words / Ao3 Link

[ Furina ]

"There's still cobwebs in the corners

And the backyard's full of bones

Won't you stay with me, my darling

When this house don't feel like home?"

You came down from the heavens weeks ago, knowing Fontaine is in danger but kept your head low and disguised yourself as a Fontainian to seek solutions to their prophecy. No one suspected you aside from the Vision wielders and a few Guardes who eventually left you alone since you seem to be harmless. You also manage to avoid any unpleasant encounters with your followers while roaming around the city.

Visiting Focalors in the opera house when no one was around was... rather an eventful one; she hopes you do not intervene with her plans to save her beloved people. You tried to reason with her: you are her god — you can forgive her and her people but she says it is her duty as Hydro Archon as prophecies cannot be changed. To pursue "justice", so to speak, is via the death of her and her throne.

You no longer attempt to pursue the topic which Focalors tacitly appreciates. Instead, you promised to look after her "human" self... Furina.

She smiles ever so graciously, knowing that such a divine being like you would keep Furina safe and sound - even after she meets her fate. You ask if you can hug Focalors, she happily accepts as this will be your first and last meeting her. You give most of your strength to hug her and you pull away, saying your tearful goodbye.

Everything went down according to her plan; watching scenes unfolding right before your eyes. Furina's trial was heart wrenching to watch, you want to jump and defend her... but this was all part of her "divine" self's plan. You shouldn't interfere, you reminded yourself, you clench your fists as the last puzzle of the prophecy reveals itself in front of you and the rest of the audience.

After the flooding in Fontaine died down and you let weeks pass by to let the country recover, you sought out Neuvillette. He is surprised to see you, easily seeing through your disguise. He bows before you and airs his concerns about Furina who had moved away from Palais Mermonia. You gently grab his hand and hold it in-between yours, telling him to stand up. You reassure that you'll be discreetly visiting Furina and the Hydro Sovereign gives you the address on where she currently lives.

During sunset, you found Furina cooped up in her new home. You knock and it took her a while before peeking through the small gap of the door. To put it lightly, her place is in disarray even when the gap of her door is small — her things are littered on the floor and she... doesn't look too good. She is far from well-presented and she looks like a ghost.

You can tell her eyes are red from crying and lack of sleep is evident on her unusually pale face. Her once kept hair's a mess and her clothes aren't well-presented like they usually do. Her hat is also nowhere to be found, it must've been included in the pile of mess scattered about her floorboards.

She weakly asks who you are and tells you that she doesn't accept visitors. You look around, making sure no one is around to see your transformation. Once you know the coast is clear, you transform into your normal self; soft glow emanating from your skin.

Once you are done dusting off your robes, Furina suddenly pulls you into her home and slams the door behind her - stuttering "Your Grace" under her breath and muttering how she's embarrassed that she's in a mess.

You turn around to speak and, instead, you are met with a tight hug from Furina. She buries her head into your shoulder and clutching onto your robes.

She doesn't understand why you hadn't come down from the heavens sooner... and you tell her Focalors wanted to do her part while you witnessed everything. She remained silent for a while before letting out a few sobs. You finally let your arms wrap around her; like a parent hugging their long-lost child.

To calm her down, you sing a song you know from the depths of your heart; the one that is ingrained to the forefronts of your mind even as a child. You alternate between singing and humming while gently running your hand up and down on Furina's back.

Her sobs subside as the last lyric of the song leaves your lips. She wipes her tears away with her hands and regains her composure. She pulls her head away from your shoulder, her eyes yet to look at your direction.

"My apologies for seeing me in such a state, Your Grace." She says, her voice slightly above a whisper, "And ...That's a wonderful song you've sung. I... appreciate it..."

She sniffles; it reminded you when you were a kid. You smile at the fond memory.

"The song was sung to calm me down by my caretakers." You say, "I suppose it still holds its charm."

She lets out a weak chuckle and meets your eyes, "I... Thank you, Your Grace."

"For what?" You inquired despite knowing the answer. She pulls you into another hug, you could've sworn you had seen her genuinely smiling for the first time.

"For being here with me." She says, a small spark of joy coming from her voice, "For seeing the 'real' me."

As she hums your song, you hold each other close until the sun finally sets from the horizon.

Hi! I was the one who asked about Aemond having a partner who has a praise kink. I would love it if you could write a drabble or something like that. Whatever works for you :)

Here you go. I hope you like it!

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~800

“Aemond, it is most irregular to have your wife serve as cupbearer during a meeting of the small council.” Otto says sternly, straightening in his chair and casting a sideways glance towards her, before returning his focus back to his grandson.

Aemond cuts an imposing figure at the head of the table, his eye never leaving his wife as he replies. “I am Prince Regent, I will decide what is irregular. I wish for my lady wife to serve me today. Shall we begin?”

The way his piercing gaze drifts back to his grandsire conveys that there is no room for argument. Otto bristles slightly, clearing his throat and spreading out parchments in front of him as the meeting begins.

Every time she moves to refill Aemond’s wine cup, her cheeks heat up at the feeling of his hand drifting to the small of her back, the murmur of his quiet thank yous eliciting a ceaseless clenching in her core as he looks up at her with pride.

The meeting feels like it drags on for an eternity. She is convinced she will faint, such is the strength of the desire that leaves her aching and sticky between her thighs. It is heightened by the embarrassment of having to pour wine for Otto, Ser Criston Cole and the rest of the small council members while in a state of arousal that she knows Aemond is aware of. She wonders if the others sense it too, if her brazen lust is marked upon her like the glare of a fresh brand.

Her feet are beginning to ache. The spoiled, comfortable life she has become accustomed to with Aemond means she is not used to having to stand for such a prolonged period. She sends a silent thank you to the Seven for their mercifulness when the meeting finally draws to a close and everyone, except Aemond, files out of the room.

Aemond stands, rounding on her as she moves to clear away the used wine cups.

“Leave that.” He instructs softly, placing his hands on her waist.

His expression is soft as he looks down at her, but the dilation of his pupil is unmistakable, it causes a fluttering in her lower belly.

“You did well today, dōnus riñus.” He raises a hand, gently swiping his thumb across the fullness of her bottom lip. “You have made your husband proud.” Sweet girl.

She preens at his praise, a shiver running from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “Thank you, my love, it was a pleasure to serve you.” She whispers, doe eyed and adoring.

“Hm.” Aemond cocks his head to the side. “And did you do exactly as I instructed?”

“Y-yes.” She stammers, skin flushing with embarrassment.

“Let me see.” He commands, lifting her onto the edge of the table and pushing up her skirts. He hums with approval at the sight of her bare cunny, exposed to him and practically dripping with her arousal. “Sȳres riñus.” Good girl.

She squirms under the intensity of his observation of her, fighting the urge to close her legs.

“Tell me, jorrāelītsos, how did it feel to parade about the small council without your small clothes?” Little love.

Her breath is shaky, shame blooming heavy in her chest as she utters her reply. “I-I liked it.”

Aemond’s eye flashes with excitement, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I liked it too.” He says darkly. “Such a good little wife, I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

Another full body shudder ripples its way through her as she nods emphatically. His long fingers press into the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

He keeps a hand clasped firmly on her leg as the other works to pull open the laces of his breeches.

The sight of his cock is enough to have her mouth watering and her head tilts back, a whimper escaping her as he teases the weeping tip through her sodden folds.

“Such a perfect little cunt.” He grunts, pushing inside of her. “The tightest in all the Seven Kingdoms.”

She mewls piteously as the ache inside of her deepens with his every thrust, his words causing her to spasm around him.

“You are taking your King so well, such a good girl.” Aemond says huskily, fucking her mercilessly against the table. “Can you peak like this, jorrāelītsos? Will you let your husband hear your pretty moans?” Little love.

And peak she does, a trembling, sobbing mess pressed against the small council table, pleasure drunk on the praise of her husband.

least read fics ✨

i was tagged by @danpuff-ao3 and @sweet-s0rr0w (see their posts here, and here, respectively, and go read those unloved hidden gems pls and thanks) to share my 5 least read fics on ao3, by either hits or kudos. this game was going around for National Author's Day and, as per usual, i'm so late it's not even fashionable anymore. ooopsies. thank you for the tags, pals!

while i think both hits and kudos are very flawed statistics i decided to go with hits for this one. my least read five, from the very bottom up are:

2020 Microfics [1100 words, 22 drarry microfics, rated E, warnings vary]

A collection of microfics written for Drarry Microfic's 2020 prompts.

a little too good to be true [800 words, ginsy, rated T, no warnings]

For a date that had started with Pansy surreptitiously pulling her phone out and texting Draco, in all caps, “You told me it was someone I didn’t know, you actual ballbag” the blind date had gone surprisingly well. It helped that Pansy accidentally blurted out what Draco had told her as soon as she laid eyes on Ginny, and Ginny laughed and replied with a “Well, Harry said, and I quote ‘She’s really lovely, give her a chance,’ so here I am.”

do it again [750 words, drarry, rated T, no warnings]

Luna,

I’m sorry. I know it’s the second time we’ve had to reschedule this interview. Work has been mental today and Ron got punched in the face. (He’s fine, it was kind of funny.) Draco will be mardy so if you have any of those hibiscus biscuits of yours with the lemon icing that you could spare, send him home with a few. I’ll owe you.

Tell him I’m really sorry and I’ll see you both at the Gala tonight.

H x

overture [115 words, drarry, rated T, no warnings]

In which Harry tells Draco all about his life.

2021 Microfics [5050 words, 95 drarry microfics, rated E, warnings vary]

A collection of microfics written for Drarry Microfic's 2021 prompts.

i accidentally rambled on (who's suprised? not me) about stats and about quality and about hits vs. kudos and all that nonsense so i'm putting the rest of this post under a cut. before that though, i'm going to link you to what is my 6th fic with the least amount of hits, because i am honestly appalled that it ranks 6th, as it's one of my favourite things i have ever written.

the underdog, the honourable mention, the but-mari-that's-not-in-the-rules:

Liturgia Horarum [1500, drarry, rated M, no warnings]

From morning melodies to evening encores, a day in the life through the soundtrack of routine.

and now, for my thoughts:

except for that last minute mention, the actual bottom 5 doesn't really surprise me at all. we have both sets of microfics, 2020's and 2021's and I think we all agree short form (especially extremely short form like micros) does much better on tumblr, plus the fact that they're all under the same work on ao3 despite it not being a cohesive story isn't super helpful. they're mostly there for archival purposes, and mostly for me. i do love having them all in the same place, and it does help me personally when i lose perspective. sometimes i open it just so i can tell myself "look at that, you wrote all those 50 word wee fuckers in numerous genres and styles, and tropes and ideas, all of them about the same two guys" lmao as a reader, i would much prefer to come across microfics and drabbles on tumblr than crammed into one work on ao3, so that makes sense to me.

the other three are T rated, short, and on top of that one of them is femslash too! (truly the holy trifecta of nopes, let's be honest there). so, really. this is unsurprising all around.

it's interesting though, because i'm a curious cat, and i couldn't help compare this to my stats by kudos — do keep in mind i never open my statistics page so looking at it to make this post was really cool! i notice that while i understand why none of these have more hits, they're pieces i quite like, personally. they're nowhere near my favourite things i've ever written, but they're stuff i think it's decent. i think they're alright.

on the other side of that though, are my kudos. when i sort by kudos, both sets of microfics are still on that bottom 5, which again, makes sense. BUT very different fics join those at the bottom of the list. interestingly, the other three fics are quite possibly my least favourite things i've written, the ones i keep on ao3 for the sake of archival but secretly pray no one ever reads! they are a lot higher hit-wise than the ones on the list above (E rated, generally quite porny though the writing/tropes/pairings are rather questionable), but they're at the bottom kudos-wise, which is a fun revelation! maybe it means my own judgement isn't that clouded and that readers and i agree when stuff is a bit... you know, shit. LOL

i find it really fun to look at this kind of thing. i do think the whole point of the game was sharing our less-loved stuff in way of reccommending it/getting it more love, and i ended up just analysing the statistics page. i do enjoy all of these, and none of them are shit, but if you were gonna pick any, for the love of god, read Liturgia Horarum.

can't think of who to tag, but if you haven't done it and you have read all my stupid rambling, you should do it and tag me on it so i can look, thank you <3

no one but you

sam wilson x avenger!reader

summary: sam wilson may be a pain in the ass, but he’s your pain in the ass. and no one, not even the cute girl at the bar, could change that.

wc: 800+

warning(s): swearing

‘to feel, to fall’ universe

marvel masterlist ☼ main masterlist

a/n: there will be various stand alone drabbles that are a part of this same universe! meaning they all connect but don’t have to be read in any specific order to understand. i just really love sam wilson and currently don’t have the brain capacity to write another series so that’s how this came to be lol. feedback, comments, reblogs are always appreciated and motivate me to keep writing! 

( gif credit @marvelouscatharsis ) 

The sound of early 2000s country music and drunken laughter surrounds you from your seat at the bar. With a grimace, you down another glass of whiskey as one particular laugh in the crowd stands out amongst them all. You hear the laugh again and with a sigh, flag down the bartender for another glass. 

“Rough night?” she questions. 

“Something like that,” you mutter under your breath with a clench of your fists. 

This was all Wanda’s fault. Wanda and her ability to get into people’s heads. You crave his attention, she had said. But you thought it was bullshit. Sam Wilson is a pain in the ass. A pain in your ass to be exact. No one got on your nerves more than Sam, his cocky attitude, and his snarky remarks. Everything about him made your blood boil, and yet watching from across the room as he flirted with another woman made your stomach turn upside down. This was all Wanda’s fault. Yes, she was probably manipulating you from across the room. 

“This one’s on the house,” the bartender, who you eventually learn is named Kyla, says as she places another cup of whiskey in front of you with a sympathetic smile. 

You take the cup, thanking her with a nod of your head, before turning back around to scowl at the couple in the corner. Something the woman said made Sam burst into a fit of genuine laughter. Nothing you ever said caused him to react in such a way. Most of the time when Sam laughed at your words it was all out of sarcasm. And the thought made you sick. You wanted to be the one to make Sam laugh like that, not her. You wanted to be able to stand that close to Sam without it having to be because the two of you were having a screaming match. You wanted to be the one Sam devoted all his attention to. You wanted Sam to look at you just like he was looking at her. You wanted him to look at you like you were the only one in the world. 

And just like that, your whole world came crashing down. You could no longer tell the difference between fact and fiction--the lines between true and untrue blurred. Turning back around, you grasp your glass with both hands tightly. Were you… jealous? You let out a breathy laugh at the thought. No, there was no way. You hate Sam Wilson and that was a well known fact. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed the man of the hour make his way back to the bar and to the seat next to you. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” 

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, suddenly aware that Sam was standing shoulder to shoulder with you. “Just not in a party mood,” you answer quietly. “You on the other hand, seem like you’re having a lot of fun out there.” 

Sam sends you a look of confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You and that woman you were talking to earlier seemed to be hitting it off quite well. When should I warn her about how much of a pain in the ass you are? If you two end up dating, she’s gonna want to know what she’s dealing with,” you add with a mocking grin. 

Sam laughs at your words and turns to you with a smirk. “Who’s to say that I won’t continue to bug you?” 

“Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have the time…” 

He catches you by surprise when he gently grabs your wrist. “I’d have all the time in the world for you,” Sam tells you softly. He sees your eyes soften ever so slightly at his words before you put up your hardened exterior once more. Noticing the awkward tension that surrounded you both, he adds,“Besides, there’s no one else I’d rather be a pain in the ass for. No one but you.” 

His words throw you off, making your heart skip a beat at the sudden genuineness of his tone. Sam has thrown you off so much that you can’t even think of anything to say back. You just stand there with your mouth half open, almost like a fish out of water. Before you get the chance to respond, Sam sends you a wink and joins the rest of your friends at the pool table. 

And all you could do is just sit at the bar in absolute bewilderment. You repeat Sam’s words to yourself and your stomach reels with this strange feeling each time. “No one but you.” Turning back to your group of friends, you watch as Sam grins widely as he animatedly tells them a story. His gaze meets yours and his smile softens only for a moment before he returns back to the group, making you almost drop the glass in your hands. Finishing up what’s left in your cup, you try to shake it all away. But no matter what you did, you found yourself going back to his words and the feeling of his skin on yours. What the hell was going on with you? 

❥ this series is dedicated to @stfukie , the biggest whore for sam wilson i know

marvel taglist/those who were interested:  @sunflowerbecca @stfukie @beth-winchester21 @thebadassbitchqueen @iasdfghjkl​ @thesewordsareallihavetogive @fangirl-swagg

add yourself to my taglist!

Idiots II Draco Malfoy x Reader

This drabble is part of my 800 Follower Celebration!

Summary: Enemies to Lovers. During the 6th year, you slowly realize with the help of Amortentia how you truly feel for the Slytherin. When you go to tell him, it’s too late.

Requested by a lovely anon: “hi! could i request a draco malfoy x reader enemies to lovers with dialogue prompt #20 - “i love you idiot”. thank you!“

A/N: This was supposed to be 500 words lol. I hope you like it! It’s a little angsty. I’m sorry if it feels a little rushed, it’s supposed to be a short drabble. I had a lot of fun writing it though and I hope you enjoy it! <3

Words: 1.3k Pairings: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader Warnings: angst

It started in your first year, even before you were sorted into your house. Walking into the Great Hall, you could barely keep your mouth closed as you absorbed the wonders and beauty that suddenly surrounded you. The flying candles, the stars on the ceiling, the laughing students at the four long tables – you knew instantly that this place would become a second home for you.

As you kept marveling at your surroundings, you didn’t notice the group had come to a stop. You made another long step forward and – bumped right into the person in front of you. A small, blonde boy spun around.

“Watch your steps, idiot!”, he spat out and glared at you.

This was the first interaction you ever had with Draco Malfoy – and also the moment, you both began to hate each other. Malfoy liked you almost as much as Potter and when he wasn’t annoying him, he was bothering you. He loved pranking you; insults written on small notes kept flying onto your desk during classes, right after he made fun of your hair or face or whatever else he could think of on that day. You weren’t any better though and kept doing the same things to him. On top of that, the two of you constantly competed in school against each other and when you joined the Quidditch Team, things got even worse.

Your friends always used one word to describe the two of you: annoying.

Things changed in your sixth year. Suddenly, Malfoy seemed distracted and stopped caring about your stupid fights. Even though, you didn’t want to admit it – his behavior bothered you. No, it was the lack of attention that bothered you.

“Why aren’t you happy that he stopped?”, your friend asked you one day. “You hate him, right? So what’s up with the sudden obsession? Are you in love with that idiot or something?”

You laughed at her. What a ridiculous idea! Just the thought made you feel uncomfortable. However, it didn’t leave you and so you started watching him during meals and classes. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the way he hardly ate anything at all, how his eyes always seemed to wander around as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Malfoy was always on your mind. Merlin, at some point you even started to dream about him.

Were you worrying about him? No, absolutely not. Never would you worry about that idiot. Because if you did that, it meant you could feel more than just hate for him.

 ***

One day in January, your thoughts trailed off once again during a particularly boring Potions lesson as you watched Malfoy from across the classroom.

“Y/N,” you friend whispered and nudged with your elbow.

“What?”, you asked when you snapped back into reality. She pointed to your teacher.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Slughorn called your name. “Is there a reason why you seem rather distracted today?”

You straightened your back immediately. Oops. “I’m sorry, Professor,” you apologized.

“Hmm,” he made. “Why don’t you come to the front and smell this potion for us. Did you hear Miss Grangers explanations?”

“Uhm, yes, sure,” you stammered and walked over to the cauldron.

Slughorn didn’t believe you. “What do you smell then, Miss Y/L/N?”

Slowly, you leaned forward and sniffed cautiously at the liquid. You frowned. “I can’t smell anything, Professor.”

Slughorn raised an eyebrow. “Please, try again. Be honest with us.”

Again, the same thing happened. As you leaned forward the overwhelming scent of an all too familiar cologne hit you and you wrinkled your nose. “I’m sorry,” you said when you got up, a little more annoyed now. “But I can’t smell anything when Malfoy stands so close. Seriously,” you looked in his direction. “Try using less cologne, it’s disgusting.”

The class was quiet for a few seconds. Malfoys eyes widened and his friends started to grin, while nudging him with their elbows. Then a few girls started to giggle. What was going on?!

“It’s Amortentia, Y/N,” Hermione whispered to you. “It shows your deepest desire.”

Oh.

 ***

To say the rest of the lesson was anything less than a complete humiliation, would have been a lie. Everyone kept grinning at you, making sly remarks, no matter how hard Slughorn tried to get the students to concentrate.

Despite your embarrassment, the words didn’t leave your mind.

It shows your deepest desire.

Malfoy was supposed to be your deepest desire?! No, something must have gone wrong. It simply couldn’t be. Right?

When hours turned into days and days into months, the answer began to seem more and more blurry. Malfoy completely started to ignore you. A part of you was glad, at least he didn’t make fun of the incident. Another part however, slowly began to feel hurt by the way he was so distant all of the sudden. The utter hatred you had felt for years faded more and more and one night when you almost started to cry after he outright refused to work together with you on a Transfiguration project, you finally admitted to yourself: maybe you did feel something for him.

“Tell him,” your friend advised you when you told her in frustration. “It doesn’t matter how he reacts, it’ll end this whole charade and give you reason to move on. Tell him.”

You knew she was right – and so you did.

You left the common room, searching the whole castle for the Slytherin. It was weirdly quiet tonight. After about forty minutes you was on your way to the Astronomy Tower when suddenly you heard some commotion. Did someone scream? No, it was probably just Peeves again. Then you finally found Malfoy. He practically ran around the corner, bumping into you.

“I have to talk to you!”, you exclaimed, reaching for his arm when he wanted to pass you. When you finally got a glimpse of his expression, it made your blood freeze. Pure fear was written all over his face, there were tears on his cheeks.

“You have to leave!”, he hissed and pushed you into a dark corner.

“What no, what happened?”, you asked him anxiously.

“Leave and hide!”, he whispered, turning his head as if he was looking for something – or someone. “You can’t be here.”

“No, Malfoy, I have to –”

“No!”, he interrupted you. For the first time, he looked into your eyes and suddenly his voice softened. “I know. Amortentia.”

You swallowed hard.

“Now, leave, please,” he squeezed your arm. You hadn’t even realized he was still holding onto you. “They will kill you!”

Just the way he said this made you believe him. The temperatures seemed to have dropped a few degrees and a shiver ran down your spine. “Who will?”, you whispered.

He didn’t reply but turned his head when he heard footsteps coming from the Astronomy Tower. Someone was coming. Fast.

“It’s too late, stay hidden,” his voice trembled. “I will lead them into another direction.” With that, he took a step back. “We probably won’t see each other again but that’s not too bad, right? We could never stand each other anyways, right?”

Right?

You felt as if you were choking, yet no tears were starting to run down your cheeks. You were too confused, too scared. What was happening? All you wanted was … “I love you, idiot,” you croaked.

Malfoy began to walk backwards, more tears streaming down his face. His eyes kept glancing to the stairs. Whoever was coming down, had almost reached them. Then, right before he turned around he sent you a small smile filled with fear and desperation. “This can’t happen, Y/L/N.”

A loud laugh caused you to flinch and then a black-haired woman appeared, followed by a few men. With terror, you noticed the Dark Mark on her arm. She screamed something but you were too distraught to understand it.

“This way,” you heard Malfoy say. “It’s a shortcut.”

***

A/N: I hope you like it! I’d love to hear your thoughts on this story! <33 HP Masterlist General Masterlist

Tag List: @writerdee1701​, @zpandaqueen​, @ladylizzieofdarbyshire​, @aspiring-ginger​, @dracomalfoyswifey​, @donttellany1iusetumbler​

If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know <3

rules: make a drabble/headcanon or describe the first time you and your chosen character met.

tag game by @paradise-creator , thank you @keisdeliveryservice for tagging me in this!!! ofc i decided to write about my best boy tendou bc he has my heart 🥺🥺

classmates: @finnyboywolfhard @1-800-imagine @m3llos @thicchaikyuuboys

tw: toxic family and mentions of bullying

a/n: i’m sorry this is kinda sad and depressing but i was listening to phoebe bridgers when writing this and i think she like took over my body

It was a chilly Monday night in January and, of course, you were working. Coming from a lower class family, you were never just handed what you wanted. Your parents made sure to let you know that you were nothing but a burden. A dent in their wallet so to speak. So, from the day you were finally old enough, you’ve been working. Your dedication to your job was astounding, working almost every day after school. Sure, it felt like your youth was being wasted working all the time, like you were missing out on things other kids your age got to experience, but that didn’t really matter to you. After all, you didn’t have any friends, although you chose to keep it that way. You learned from a young age that people were not all good and not everyone was kind. Most of the time people only got close to you to use you or to build you up and then break you down. So, you dealt with the bullying and snide comments at school about how you were a loser and how weird it was that you never talked to anyone or joined any clubs. You knew that none of this mattered, after all it was only high school. What did matter to you, however, was the fact that the newest Shonen Jump came out today. Jump was your paradise, so to speak. The only place you could get away from it all. Pretending you lived in these make believe worlds made everything feel okay, even if it was only temporary. It was nearly time to close. But, by the time you finally got out of this godforsaken cafe and to the nearest convenience store they would probably all be gone.

This wasn’t just any copy, it was a widely anticipated one. One of your favorite stories had a new chapter coming out and it was supposed to be juicy. Did someone say major character death? You needed to get it so no one would spoil the storyline for you online or through overheard conversations. Something that had happened to you one too many times. Time felt like it was crawling on, moving as slowly as it possibly could. You glanced at the clock, 7:55 it read. Your heart began to race thinking about how few copies were probably left. Yet, time slowed. It could only be described as the last few minutes of school before a big break, or a car in rush hour traffic. Anxiously awaiting what you knew was to come when the clock finally struck 8:00. You finished ringing up your last customer, packing up their pastry and wishing them well. That’s when you heard it, your boss over the intercom. “The time is now 8:00 and we are officially closed. Thank you for shopping with us today and please, do come again.” It was like you had been waiting for that all your life. Time began to race again as you quickly grabbed all of your belongings and clocked out. Yelling goodbye to your boss as you raced out the door like a racehorse leaving the starting line.

You ran, no sprinted, to the nearest convenience store. It felt like you had been running for hours when it finally came into view. The air was frigid and the winds scolding but yet you powered through, determined to get your copy. Finally reaching the store, you burst through the door. Making a b-line for the aisle you were oh too familiar with. That’s when you saw it, a tuft of bright red hair moving faster than the speed of light. “Shit.” you cursed under your breath. And just like that, your night was ruined. He beat you to it. His hand grabbing the book just seconds before your own could. You had never felt so defeated. It was such a trivial thing, but Monday nights were your nights to escape and live in a world of your own devices. The tall red head looked at you, almost teasingly, and smiled. He probably didn’t intend to seem as though he was mocking you but… You tried to ignore it and just smiled back before turning to go home.

“Hey! If you want you can have the last copy.” he shouted after you.

Turning around to look at him, you replied, “No, that’s okay. You were here first, you deserve it!” You put on your fakest smile and left.

The weather had seemed to turn almost as quickly as your emotions had. The night air had not seemed so threatening before. But now, the once scolding winds seemed all but furious and the sky seemed to weep. Of course it was raining. Could your night get any worse? Realizing you had forgotten your umbrella, you sat down on the stoop outside and began to sob. Your melancholy feelings being perfectly reflected by the weather that night. You heard the door to the shop open, but you chose to ignore it. Choosing instead to wallow in your own self pity.

“...Hey,” his voice was gentle but firm, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” you replied, harsher than you meant to.

“I know you don’t know me but you can talk to me if you want. I think I might be able to understand,” no one was ever this nice to you. However, being the nihilist that you were, you couldn’t help but feel like his kindness was a double edged sword. He had to have an ulterior motive, everyone always did. Your mind was molasses, oozing indiscriminately over his words, struggling to find your own. That’s when he spoke again. “Here, I want you to have this.”

You turned to look and were met with, not only the kind eyes of an understanding stranger, but the last copy of Jump, which you so desperately craved. “Oh, no. I can’t take that.” You quickly dismissed him.

“I insist, use the money you brought to get yourself an umbrella,” he said, forcing the book into your hands with a smile. “Besides, I can just read it online with my subscription.”

And with that, he turned and left. Never even telling you his name. You took his advice and made your way inside to purchase a disposable umbrella. And then you started your treacherous journey home. The weather did seem to let up a bit, which you were grateful for. By the time you finally made it home you were so physically and emotionally drained that you couldn’t even bring yourself to read the new chapters. Opting instead to set an extra early alarm for the next morning, you threw yourself into bed and passed out, dreaming of the odd boy who had shown you kindness you had never seen before.

The next morning you awoke with a start, all but jumping out of your bed to grab the manga. Flipping to the first page you saw what looked like a handwritten message. Trying your best to make out the chicken scratch when suddenly it hit you like a ton of bricks. It was a note from the boy you met yesterday. “It may not seem so bright now, but I promise the future has a lot to offer. Text me if you ever want to talk. -Tendou Satori (xxx) xxx-xxxx.” There it was, his name. You smiled, wider than you ever had. Just like it had the day prior, the weather seemed to perfectly mimic your ever changing emotions, as the clouds began to dissipate and the sun shone bright, brighter than you ever thought it could. Today, for the first time in what felt like forever, would be good.

I am Kiryu

I got really sad and what was a small drabble to help me chill out turned into a 800+ fic so oops...English is not my first language so if you have any suggestions to help fix anything I will gladly take them. I hope you enjoy my nonsense. 

Edit: I have uploaded it to A03 here is the link if you’d like to read it there

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30644183

I open my eyes to see the love of my life shed his snakeskin jacket, a second set of skin to him. No matter how many times he sheds it before me in our dance of death or even now in our moment of peace, his body will never stop being as beautiful as the first time I laid my eyes upon it. His body tells of his story using the millions of scars, memories, that litter it. I move my hands over the fields of pain, whispering loving apologies as I pass each one, the lifted skin pushing into my fingertips. My hands wander all around him, silently showing him my love, I use them to guide our bodies to bed where we sit breathing in each other’s air. One hand falls upon his face, the unkempt hair of his beard scratches against my palm. I see his tired brown eye close and a sigh escapes his lips as he leans into my touch. I sweep my thumb over the dark skin that takes over under his eye. I join him and close my eyes pushing our foreheads together, the seemingly permanent furrow of my brow fading as I inhale, basking in the love that radiates us both. After what seems like a lifetime we both open our eyes, his long black lashes fluttering open like a hummingbird’s wings, the browns of our souls mixing together like a pool of fallen autumn leaves. I land my thumb over the small mole always hidden behind a black leather patch, a secret that only I know. I lean forward pushing my lips onto his, soft and plush, incomparable to mine, rough yet gentle. The kiss ends, a small connection but enough to electrify us both.

I feel a presence between us, one of jealousy and hurt. Her. How could I forgot her. I move my hands away despite the quiet whine of my love and move them to his back. The whine disappears, a shudder taking its place. Silently he turns settling back into his spot and lowers his head letting her take over. I gasp at the sight before me, my breath shaking at her beauty. Her white face illuminating the scars sprawled across her owner’s back. Her green eyes pierce into my soul harder and deeper than any stab of her owner’s tanto. Her usual grin now morphed into a look of anger, disdain, jealousy. I understand why, I had been giving her owner so much attention but never her, she was calling, making herself feel known so that she would not be left out. I rubbed my hands over her horns tracing their rough pattern before reaching the tips and finally moving down to smooth over her cheeks, framing her in all her glory. I leaned down and pressed my lips against her forehead, the expression of anger now morphing to one of comfort. I exhaled through my nose, the hot air warming her cold skin. Seeing that she was satisfied I pulled her owners back towards my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, laying my head against the creek of his neck. There was no need for either one of us to lift our heads and gaze into each others eyes, from the warmth of our skin I could tell that he was happy. Most likely showing his sharpened teeth in a smile. Not the smile that he would use to warn and scare off those who dared get close but the smile that was so rare, the smile only few have seen, the smile that made me fall in love.

We sit in silence for there are no words needed, just by the beat of our hearts and the sound of our breath we knew what words were to be said. I lift my head to see the smile that stole my heart, yellowed from years of smoking but bright nevertheless. Our eyes meet again, we see the guilt and sadness in our souls leaking through threatening to expose the truth that we keep hidden away from the judgmental world. I see them become glassy and a tear slides down his face. The tears that follow begin staining his eyelashes and the scar that etched its self on his eye, a reminder of his past mistakes, his past guilt. I move my hand up to wipe it away and pull his head down to mine. I whisper words of my love into the air, barely audible to the world but not to the man in his arms. Everything once again goes silent and we stay where we are, not daring to move, as if it was the only pose we could hold or we’d die. Having my love in my arms, him knowing he’s safe and cared for once makes me realize that I do not fear the world outside the room. When we are alone all I need is the sound of his heart and the sight of his chest moving in its hypnotic rhythm of breath to know that I am safe. I am Loved. I am Kiryu.

❛ MIEMBRO DE HONOR ❜

Headcanon of ‘Miembro de Honor’.

with the Mayans MC.

Request: Hello! I really liked the imagine about the teenager who broke into the clubhouse! Could you do an imagine or a short drabble about what happened right after she got gaught or something else related to that imagine? thank you!

BY ANON

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.4k.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on google.

Masterlist.

The next morning when you woke up wearing clothes that weren't yours, you had to take some minutes to remember what happened. And when you found it out, the fear began to run through your veins, starting to shake when you heard some voices coming closer.

After ten minutes encouraging yourself, you went out of the room barefoot and walking with dubious steps until you found the men that caught you last night.

“I prepared you a coffee”. The one who called himself ‘el presidente’ got up from his chair, offering you a mug. “It will suit you, kid. We have to talk”.

Holding it, you followed him to another room passing away the other men. Entering into it, you left your gaze travel around. Some couches, a metallic locker, a big table and a lot of chairs. The man sat on the front, pointing to the closer one where you were supposed to have a seat.

“Please, don't kill me”. You said with a trembling voice, obeying without complaints.

“I'm not going to kill you. Neither my men”.

After he explained that they wanted to take care of you, you tried to breathe calmed. But you didn't trust them. Even less when they prohibited you to get out of the clubhouse.

They bought you everything you asked for. Clothes, books, a phone.

It only took you one week to start to talk with them. Some words. Some phrases. You began to see that they were good people in the wrong place, exactly as you were. Renegades.

Angel and Coco were always around you, having some fun, teasing you to make you laugh. They were the one who makes you easy to trust in the rest. They were like children, jumping from one side to another. They used to steal a piece of your food, dishevel you, push your stick while playing pool… But they also comforted you whenever you felt alone, questioning your existence in the middle of the night.

“What's up, mami?” Coco asked sitting by your side over the picnic table.

“Hold it, and don't tell Bish we gave you a beer”. The Reyes cleaned your tears as soon as his hands were empty.

“I just… was thinking about my family and all that shit… you know”.

“Foc them, mami!” Coco replied surrounding your shoulders with an arm.

“We're your older brothers now. And that's cool. I always wanted a sister to fuck up those bitches that don't let me live in peace, when we're having a party here”.

“Of course, 'cause they all want to fuck you”.

“Exactly. Your main task as my younger sister is to scare them away”. Angel sang pinching your cheeks.

“Stop!” Finally, he made you laugh again.

“And with me, you' main task is keep me happy befo' I start with another of my paranoias. So, I need ya happy too”.

Creeper and Gilly were the opposite. While Angel and Coco were trying to make you laugh, they were the one who were teasing you the whole time. To make you ‘stronger mentally’.

“Are you crying again?”

“You don't do anything else?”

“You're not gonna solve anything crying, mami”.

“Yeah, and you look fuckin' horrible”.

“You two are fucking assholes!”

You tried to punch Gilly on the chest, but he was faster, holding your arms and locking the kicks by a leg raised.

“That's it, mami! Fight!” Creeper cheered, while you kept trying.

“Fight against your problems, little sister, and don't give up”. The bigger one said, loosening the grip to hug you. “We're not gonna stop until you keep it in mind, babe”.

Tranq was a little reticent to the idea of having you there, not knowing if you were telling them the truth or if you were lying. But he started to change his point of view when he found you trying to fix up a bloody cut in your hand.

“The hell happened, kid?” He asked worriedly, grabbing the cotton to clean the blood before wrapping it with a gaze before bandaging your hand.

“I heard you were… hungry”. You complained because of the pain, putting the hand on your chest held by the other. Ashamed, you were unable to look at him. “I was cutting some bread to make you a sandwich…”

“Thanks, but I'm not into cannibalism”.

His words made you laugh, helping you to stand up from the toilet with an arm on your waist.

“Let's see what you were doing, kid…”

Taza and Riz used to ignore you. Sounds rude, but they didn't trust you. A kid from the street? Who knows if someone hired you to talk about what was happening inside the clubhouse. And this feeling increased because you used to spend a lot of time looking at them. But what they didn't notice was the fact that you used to do it in a concrete moment of the day.

“You don't have anything more interesting to do?” Riz asked you, getting up from the floor and shaking his clothes walking towards you. Taza followed him cross-armed with an eyebrow raised over the sunglasses.

“I don't think so”.

“Why don't you go to fuck off with the prospect, ah?” The apache spoke then, stopping some meters from you.

“I want to learn how to change a tire”.

The men looked at each other a little confused.

“I already learned to change the oil”. You said having a sip by the straw on your milkshake, Tranq's courtesy. But they seemed lost yet. “Yesterday. Yesterday morning. When you were in the scrap yard”.

“That is… what you do?”

“Learn about motorbikes? Yes. You're very good at it, and I like it”.

“Okay…” Riz turned at his friend, shrugging his shoulders, before offering you a hand. “Come here”.

“Really?”

“Yes, kid, come with us. We will teach you”.

With Bishop was easy too. He accepted you from the first moment. It was his idea at the end. You used to spend a lot of time with him, hearing about his travels and his life. He taught you to fight and to shoot, as a father was supposed to do. He also slept the first week in the clubhouse, in case that you needed anything. Like this night he had to take you to the hospital.

“Hey, what's wrong?”

He was inside the Templo, drinking a beer and smoking when you came in crying slightly. For some reason your head hurt so bad and you vomited twice. The man walked towards you, having a look of your face before placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You don't feel good, ah?”

“I have a horrible headache”. You just said between some sobs.

“Okay, let's see a doctor”.

“I don't have health insurance”.

“Don't worry about it. Take a jacket, I will find a helmet for you”.

After some long hours in the Emergencies, and a strong painkiller, he brought you back to the clubhouse carrying you on his arms. You were falling asleep since you left the hospital and he didn't care about taking you to bed. Bishop also took off your sneakers and tucked you under the sheets, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you feel better?”

“Mm…” You mumbled nodding with closed eyes.

“I'll be close if you need anything, okay?” The man hesitated for a second, leaning forward over you, to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Rest, querida”.

“Bish”.

“Yes?”

“Thank you”. You muttered before falling asleep.

For the first time in months, Bishop smiled, caressing your cheek slowly to make sure you were out of the real world.

They gave you the opportunity to come back to school, and study the necessary to go to the university. You didn't have any trouble. You put all your efforts on passing every test, and every night studying. EZ helped you to plan every single minute, to take advantage of the maximum possible time.

And they used to visit you every two weeks in San Diego, when you were accepted to study Medicine, in general terms.

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TES Minis: I

yoongi meets the new (never late) coworker.

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: fluffy fluff words: 800 contains: so much softness a/n: this is a drabble for The Early Shift. it can be read alone, but it contains some spoilers for the series, as it is set a few months after the official ending!

With one hand on your hip, the other holding a cup with something frothy and heavily caffeinated, you scrutinize the steaming drink. A few seconds pass before you dare to lift the cup to your lips. Taking a deep swig, the bitter flavor floods your tongue and you swallow it down, feeling the heat travel through your body. A welcome warmth on this chilly autumn day. Especially since the taste is no longer as burnt as it had been a week ago.

“Okay…” You announce, “you pass!”

A pause.

Then the familiar steam machine hiss is accompanied by a whoop of triumph from a boxy smile. A warm arm is thrown around your shoulder without hesitation. “I did it! I diiid it!” Taehyung’s joy is absolutely palpable as he leads you in a roundabout dance in the limited space behind the counter. He’s finally allowed to serve actual coffee to your customers now!

You haven’t the slightest clue why someone who dislikes coffee insists on working in a café, but he claims to ‘enjoy the atmosphere’ and the patrons love him. Either way, you and your taste buds revel in the excitement of not having to taste god awful drinks any longer (it’s been a rough three weeks of training).

The door bell goes off just as you both spin around, limbs tangled in each other as you poke between his ribs.

“Tae, we have customers! Let go!”

He does so slowly. It takes you a few moments to straighten up, to pat down your apron from the wrinkles he caused with all that roughhousing.

“Having fun?”

It’s a familiar voice, one slightly amused and low. Is that--! You look up into the cool eyes of your boyfriend, a sight you haven’t seen in about half a month since you’ve both been caught up in the whirlwind that is adulthood. His expression is neutral, undecipherable.

“Yep! We are!” Taehyung chimes in, completely clueless. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take your assistant manager,” Yoongi says without batting an eye.

“Uhh…” Taehyung’s eyes flash from you, to Yoongi, back to you.

You snort. “Tae, meet Yoongi.”

“Oh! Oh, right. Yoongi. The one who used to work here.” Taehyung makes a quick recovery before he’s beaming again. “She’s all yours!” He pushes you towards the low counter-gate.

“Gee, thanks for the permission,” you throw back in a dry voice. But you’re too excited to see Yoongi to actually be irritated.

Fingers tangled in the strings of your apron as you undo the knot, you rush into a nearby seat that just happens to be the loveseat for two. Your feet relish in relief for the first time in hours. Yoongi plops down next to you, his bangs falling over his dark eyes. You are impossibly fond of those eyes, the softness within them that are your little secret to keep. Tonight, though, he looks exhausted.

“How’s my genius producer doing?” You murmur, drawing light circles with your nail on his shoulder.

“Song’s done. Fuckin’ finally.”

Your lips quirk up. “Is it gonna be a hit?”

“Obviously.”

Yoongi stifles a yawn, stretching to the cracking of joints. He scowls at the sound of aging, but it seems half-hearted as you continue to grin at him. He seems to be getting more energized by the second, especially as he jerks his chin towards the counter. “I see you’ve replaced me already.” He dares to smirk. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks but damn, you move fast. Got a thing for coworkers, huh?”

Laughing, you cock a hand under your chin. “Oh, babe, didn’t you know? Not only is he friendly, Tae is always on time.”

“…But you said his coffee sucked.”

“Not anymore! He passed training five minutes ago.”

“He’s… disrespectful towards management.”

You shrug casually. “Yeah, but he’s cute enough to make up for it.”

There’s a glimmer of telltale rebellion in Yoongi’s eyes. “I still have something he doesn’t.”

“Wha-at?”

“He’s not in—” Yoongi abruptly stops. He looks down, bites his lip. “Wait. Never mind.”

“Yah, don’t tease me, babe!” You scrunch your face at him, hoping he’ll reconsider.

But it just makes him even more playful. “Thought you liked being teased.”

“Only between the sheets.”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re distracted when Yoongi cups your cheek with his warm palm. There’s a sudden intensity in his gaze that’s overridden his mirth. Then he’s kissing you, preciously like he always does, nibbling on your bottom lip, leaving affection behind every time he goes back for more. 

You’re thankful the café is mostly empty at this time of night. He’s thankful for you.

With a faint smile, he murmurs, “tell you soon. I promise.”

“Okay,” you breathe. And you trust him.

Congratulations on 1k!! 😊😊💞🎉🎊🎊 You totally deserve it, I'm absolutely in love with your Javi fics 😭😭Javier Peña and 'oops we accidentally kissed and now you're not talking to me' and maybe kinda angsty?? But it's totally up to you 🤗

okay so i was supposed to be making these short 500 words or less but then i got caught up in this one and wrote a lot. i’ll be catching up on the rest of my 1k event drabbles in the next couple days. this one got long enough that i’m considering it a short oneshot, tagging my taglist, and adding a read more 😳

character; javier peña

prompt; exes who still live together because money is tight and it just gets really complicated: oops we accidentally kissed and now you’re not talking to me

warnings; um, lots and lots of angst and no happiness, i’m sorry

The fact that the embassy still hadn’t found a spare apartment for you to move into yet was definitely your fault. Neither you nor Javier had heeded the warnings of keeping relationships strictly professional, and while the ambassador had been lenient in letting you two remain a together for the time, upon the occasion of the explosive break-up, she was less inclined to kindness and had told you that no extra efforts would be made to find you a single apartment.

Thankfully there was a guest bedroom, into which you had moved for the time being, but it was small and the bed was the smallest, creakiest, uncomfortable thing so you tried to spend as little time possible in the apartment.

Javier and you hadn’t spoken to one another in a couple days, and the last time you had said anything of substance was over two weeks before when Javier brought an informant home and you walked in on them fucking on the couch.

The whole thing had led you to the bar tonight, hoping that you would be returning to an apartment with only one occupant.

As the alcohol settled into your system you weren’t the fun and boisterous drunk you usually were, just a sad and emotional one, replaying all the ways you missed the way Javier and you were before. How in the beginning you would come home to each other's arms, making dinner together or ordering takeout, smiling and laughing through it all. How you would go out dancing together. How you fell asleep intertwined in each other.

But over time that slowly faded into less contact. You would come home after a long day and instead of telling him about it, you would fume in silence and he would do the same. You started arguing about everything. There were days where you couldn’t stand him, and yet you’d end up in your shared bed every night, even if you were on opposite sides.

Until one day the argument went so far that you couldn’t bear to crawl under the covers next to him, instead choosing to fall asleep on the couch, still in your day clothes, covered by only a scratchy afghan. That was it. The next morning you had told Javier that your relationship couldn’t continue like it was, leading to a shouting match that caused Steve and Connie to come banging on the door, worried someone had gotten hurt. They entered into the wreckage of your relationship, moments after you had said the words “we’re done” and Javier had only nodded. Someone had definitely gotten hurt.

By the time you were stumbling home, crying over what no longer was, you were out of it enough to make some stupid decisions. What those would be you weren’t sure, but as you entered the apartment seeing Javier still awake in the kitchen, making some sort of midnight snack and smiling to himself as a record played softly in the background, that decision cleared up.

He was so beautiful and you missed getting to wrap your arms around him and kiss him any time of the day. Which was what led you to walk up to him as he looked at you with concern and confusion, and planted your lips on his. Sloppy as it was, the kiss was still nice. And to your surprise, Javier started to kiss back. You could taste a little bit of alcohol on his tongue too, so maybe neither of you were truly thinking of the reality of things as you started to make out, but what felt like an eternity later, he was pushing you off, wiping the saliva off his mouth and you were suddenly very nauseous, both with the guilt and the numerous bottles of beer.

The next morning you waited until he left for work before you crawled out of your room, head pounding and hungover. It didn’t matter that you were late for work.

You returned to your room after work, not exiting until you needed to make something for dinner. When you did go out, however, it was to a seemingly empty apartment where you stood by the stove making some pasta. Which is exactly when Javier walked out of his own room, first startling you as he slammed a beer bottle on the countertop, then proceeded to avoid eye contact as he pulled another bottle from the fridge along with a container of leftover pizza which he placed in the microwave.

“I’m sorry, Javi,” you said, wanting anything to break the silence. It hurt to remember the times when a kiss like that was just one in a million. And how much you wanted to go back to how things were. But you knew that was a time long gone.

Javier didn’t respond.

The microwave dinged and he grabbed the pizza and a plate and began to walk back to his room.

“Javier, are you going to say anything to me?” you asked. Your voice cracked.

He stopped and turned around, throwing up his arms.

“What do you want me to say?” Javier exclaimed. “That you should have kept your damn distance? That I forgive you? That I’m sorry too? Because I’m not.”

“Javi—”

“You don’t get to fucking ‘Javi’ me,” he said, “This is all we fucking do. We fight and we yell, and I don’t have a damn clue why we’re still doing it now that it’s all over.”

“I don’t want it to be over,” you said.

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about that months ago when we started falling apart.”

“What? Like it’s all my fault?” you asked.

“You’re doing it again. You take any conversation and escalate it. And we never worked in the first place. Neither of us wants to share enough of ourselves to be worth being in a relationship with. I know I’m not. And I’m pretty sure you’re not worthy of one either.”

You stopped whatever words were going to come out of your mouth. You had no idea Javier thought of himself that way. His words about you hurt, but not as much as the burden of knowing the pain of his own self-judgment.

“Javier, you’re more than worthy of a relationship,” you whispered. “You shared so much. I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to share enough to match the weight of the things you shared.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re just a couple of DEA screw-ups who’ve shot too many people to have lives worth something,” he said. “But I guess I was wrong: I am sorry about the kiss. I shouldn’t have led you to believe there was something worth saving.”

You laughed bitterly. “Right. I guess that’s it then. I don’t have anything more I think I can say.”

“Good, because I don’t either.”

You nodded. He didn’t turn back around to continue to his room. You didn’t turn back to the stove.

There was so much left unsaid but you were so damn scared that it would turn into another loud fighting match, leaving you more broken than you already felt. But there was one thing left unsaid that you couldn’t bear alone.

“I miss us, Javi,” you said.

He solemnly nodded. “That makes two of us yearning for something long gone.”

Javier then turned around and disappeared into the black of the hallway, and you only let the tears fall when you heard the open and close of his bedroom door.

.

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Bechloe drabbly type things

I’ve named my probably very limited selection of short fics “Cheap Thrills” because I’m cheap and it’s given me a thrill to actually finish one.  Also Kendrick’s vocals in that song.

AO3 linkies

Chapter 1: Beca Mitchell is best served SOFT Words: 800

She notices it when they go to the beach. She's never seen it before and she isn't sure how she missed it.  Chloe doesn't think there is a single inch of Beca's body that she's unfamiliar with (at least not for a while now) especially since they are engaged.  But alas, there it is, staring at her in the face like the bright sun they are under… or maybe that is the sun.    Anyway.  Beca stripped her clothes off and proceeded to ask Chloe to lather sunscreen on her porcelain skin lest she become the first 'Red Lobster' in this city.  Only too happy and always eager to oblige and have a legitimate (borderline inappropriate) reason to touch her fiancée, Chloe grabs the lotion and pats her legs to signal Beca to sit between them. She squeezes some of the white liquid into her hands and slowly massages it into the delicate skin before her, not missing any chances to slyly cop-a-feel or pinch her sides.  When she makes Beca turn around to do her front, it goes a little something like this:   "Turn around babe, I gotta do your front."  Beca turns somewhat gracefully despite their positions (probably surprising both of them in the process), "I think I'm perfectly capable of doing my front myself Chlo."  "But you know that I love doing your front Bec," Chloe emphasises with a slight brush of her hand past Beca's left breast.  "Perve," Beca retorts, "Just don't do that thing where you 'accidentally' squeeze too much lotion onto my so you have an excuse to keep touching me."  Pretending to be indignant, Chloe's mouth hangs open with faux-shock, "Why Miss Mitchell!  I would never even think of such a childish act!  You must have me confused with another one of your girlfriends."  Beca just rolls her eyes at her fiancée.  God she loves her just a little bit too much.   When Chloe stops trying to publicly fondle Beca and place the lotion on her ribcage, it takes all of two seconds for her to notice it.  It's not huge but it's there and she definitely would've remembered seeing it before.  A velvety red colour, simple design.  It looks like a sound wave (of what Chloe is not sure).  It causes her to pause her motions and lean in closer to inspect it. It's sitting right below her bikini top, on her ribs.  She runs her right thumb across it when she cradles Beca's left side, stroking it as though it might impart some small wisdom as to when it came into existence.  "What is this?" she asks, still entranced by the latest ink adorning her favourite person.  It takes a second for Beca to realise and her first response is a rather unsophisticated "Huh?", before she looks down and sees what is so fascinating.  "Oh shit.  You weren't supposed to see that yet, dammit."  The answer causes Chloe to furrow her eyebrows in confusion and look up at Beca, who was currently trying her best not to look disappointed.  She reaches up and pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear and elaborates, "I got this done a couple of days ago.  I was gonna surprise you with it tonight since it's fairly healed now. I've been trying really hard to keep this part of me hidden from you, which is really, really difficult by the way," she winks and uses her hands to hover over her chest area.  Chloe is almost speechless.  This tattoo is a gift for her.  She looks back down at the tattoo and says softly, "This is for me?"  Feeling hands on either side of her face, gently lifting it to meet her fiancée's eyes, the reply she gets is simple. "Everything is for you Chlo."  She doesn't want to cry but sometimes Beca is so goddamn adorable and thoughtful that she just can't help the shine to her eyes. "What is it?"  She says hopeful that Beca isn’t about to ruin this by saying that it’s something vulgar or hilarious.  Beca looks down at the tattoo with Chloe, bringing both their hands to it, "It's a visual voice print of you saying 'yes' when I asked you to marry me, because apart from 'I love you' it's the best thing you've ever said to me."  There's no point in replying with words, they won't do justice to this hugely sappy but incredibly romantic gesture from Beca. Chloe tries her best to respond through a kiss.  A kiss that definitely tastes like salt due to the tears that have absolutely no way of being held back now.  Whenever Beca surprises her like this, it adds to the Beca Mitchell tattoo that has encompassed her heart.  Just like her love for Beca, it's permanent.

It's Christmas season! Any chance you'll be writing loki-valkyrie-frigga Christmas drabble hehe

Will I be writing loki-valkyrie-frigga Christmas drabble? Umm, now I am! Funny thing is, I do have a little Frigga-verse draft hanging up in my google docs but it is hmm, how do I put it? Kinda different from the tone of all my other previous fics I’ve written about her life? Maybe this could be a prologue to the next story? Oh shit, does that mean I am committing to something? Hope that doesn’t come back to haunt me. O_o

I also sort-of rushed this little ficlet/drabble in honor of Loki’s unofficial birthday, so pardon if it seems a bit rushed.

Word Count: 800 words

Title: From Now On Your Troubles Will Be Out Of Sight

Rating: General

From Now On Your Troubles Will Be Out Of Sight

Frigga riffled through a cardboard box and placed her hands on her hips in thought. She tossed her dark curls behind her shoulders and pursed her lips in a way Loki’s seen Brun do a number of times while fiddling with her latest project. 

There were only two more weeks left for Christmas, and the little princess has been spending every last minute preparing for the latest holiday everyone at school is obsessed with. It seemed only yesterday where she spent every last hour talking about Halloween costumes, decorations and candy.

Out of nowhere, she came home from school one day asking her parents why they didn’t have a Christmas tree by their fireplace like the Whos from Whoville do. While Brun’s been less than enthusiastic with Frigga’s sudden obsession for Earth holidays, Loki’s felt a bit of relief she’s acclimated so well to school and holds an interest in the things she’s learning.  

“Where’s the star? It needs a star!” Frigga said while scanning the box of leftover decor generously donated from Pepper Potts and Jane Foster. 

“Star? What star?” Loki furrowed his eyebrows trying to remember what a star has to do with a pine tree. He’s certain Frigga doesn’t literally mean a star. 

“The plastic gold one that goes on top of the tree,” Thor explained. “Jane and I take turns every year putting it on top. It’s sort-of an honor Midgardians give to one another.”  

“Pretty sure I saw it in one of those boxes,”Brun added while lounging on the sofa and nursing a cup of coffee.

Loki raised his eyebrows and turned to his partner. 

“Really? Care to be more specific?” He lowered his voice while adding under his breath, “Maybe help.” 

“Hey,” Brun set her drink down and slowly stood up. “You said you could handle it. I was only respecting your wishes.” 

“I don’t recall wishing for you to sit down and stare at us while we fumbled around with a tangled up string of lights,” he countered.  

Her lips curved up in a teasing smile when she saw the glare Loki threw her way.   

“Come on, mum. You can help me!” Frigga grabbed Brun’s hand and led her to a stack of boxes. “You can check this one!” She pointed and turned around to her work. 

With Brun’s eyes still locked on Loki, she let out a faint chuckle and shrugged.

“Guess you win this one,” she said softly while picking through the boxes. After several moments, she pulled up a reflective green bauble by the string and held it up to her face. She sauntered over to the tree with as much grace as she has with Dragonfang and hung the ornament up on a branch next to Loki’s hand. Her hands moved over and swiped his fingers in between hers. 

“How’s that?” Brun smiled.

“Wonderful,” Loki leaned down for a quick kiss on her lips. “Now do the same thing with the stacks of other boxes your daughter’s buried herself in.”  

Brun’s smile dropped and she rolled her eyes while taking her sweet time sorting through the decorations and hanging things up one by one with as little energy as possible.

Loki glanced up at the ornament Brun left behind and paused in thought. 

He knew he was taking this whole thing too seriously. Frigga would have been happy with a small two foot tall pre-made tree, but he couldn’t help himself. A part of him wanted her to be excited and have the best experience possible. And anyway, when has Loki ever half-asses anything?

If he’s being honest, his constant participation with Frigga’s newfound interests might also be a way to keep his mind away from his usual anxieties that creep up in the middle of the night. 

There hasn’t been a reason to be on constant alert since Thanos, yet there’s still that voice in Loki’s head telling him otherwise. It feels like a clock ticking in the back of his mind and he can’t find where it’s coming from or why it’s going off. Anytime he feels warmth or safety, that voice never fails to shoot him down and remind him how temporary it all is.

“I found it!” Frigga squealed with half of her body bent over and inside a large storage container. Her legs kicked out several times before they landed back on the ground and she stood upright. Frigga jumped in the air while holding the glittery star above her head. “Papa, can I put on the star?”

“Of course,” he smiled brightly. “It was your idea, after all.” 

“We should take turns! Next time, you can put up the star, then mum, then me, then…”

Loki felt his smile slowly slip and a sinking feeling hit his gut.  

How much longer will you lie to your daughter?[tick tock] Do you feel good about yourself when you smile as if everything’s all right? [tick tock] She will only see you as this infallible god for so long.[tick tock]

He sucked in a deep breath and silenced that thought with another strand of red ribbon woven between the branches of the tree. 

The Damn Song II Jaskier x Reader

This drabble is part of my 800 Follower Celebration!

Requested by @aspiring-ginger​:  “Jaskier, soulmates, "is that what you think of me?" ♡♡ and congrats!!” A/N: It’s finally here! I reached 1000 Followers tonight (and I’m still squealing!! ilysm) so it’s kinda funny to me that I’m still out here posting the drabbles for my 800 Follower Celebration :D I’m sorry for being so slow! I hope you like it though! Words: 516 Pairing: Jaskier x fem!Reader, Soulmate AU Warnings: none

„Is that what you think of me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear his voice behind you. The grip on your mug tightens and you stare at your friend with a panicked look on your face. She – the owner of the small tavern in this town – grins at you, amused by how you got caught. She raises her hands in a manner that says: you’re on your own, honey.

The tavern was crowded tonight. People from all over town had come, wanting to see the special guest: Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, once feared as the Butcher of Blaviken, who now turned into the local attraction for the week. (Granted, nothing much happens in this town. Ever). Of course, someone made him famous, changed the peoples view of him. He didn’t manage this on his own. And the one who is mainly responsible for the change of people’s hearts is no one lesser than the bard Jaskier with his irritating song ‘Toss a coin to your witcher’.

Seriously, you hate that stupid song. It’s all over the continent and everyone – truly everyone, from grandmother to little child – keeps on singing it. They’re humming it walking down the streets, other bards copying it in the taverns. It annoyed the shit out of you.

So when you walk in tonight, wanting to talk to your friend and you hear this damn song, you don’t even look at the bard. Instead you head straight for the counter, starting to rant about how much you despise it and ultimately, the bard for creating it. This causes you to miss the fact that he stops singing at some point.

“Seriously,” the bard starts speaking again. “Is that what you think of me and my music?”

Realizing, he won’t go away, you wish for a hole in the ground in which you can simply vanish. A deep red blush appears on your cheeks and you slowly turn around.

This is where you see him for the first time in your life – and something happens.

Fireworks explode.

As you lock eyes with him, it’s as if your world changes from black and white to color. As if you’re gently sinking under water, the sounds around you become muffled. No longer can you hear the laughter and conversation of the others as everything fades away. Then your heart slows down, every beat of it echoing inside your mind.

Is this it?, you think to yourself. Is this what the stories and songs and poems are about? Is this how it feels like meeting them? The one person of whom you carry a part of their soul? The last reminiscence of a time so ancient and long forgotten that it takes your breath away when you’re finally allowed to experience it?

When you come back to the surface, you’re out of breath. Blinking in confusion, you stare at the man in front of him. He shares the same irritated look on his face, licking over his lips before awkwardly clearing his throat.

“No,” you finally answer his question. “And yes, I hate your damn song.”

***

A/N: For the record, I actually really like this song. I hope you liked it!! <3

My “Witcher” Masterlist

Tag List: @just-antiyou​, @sarah-midnight​, @aspiring-ginger​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @spacewitchqueen​, @inked-poet​, @seanh-boredom​, @harleyfranquinn, @noodlextrash​, @zpandaqueen​, @dancingwith-thesunflowers

If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know! <3

TAZ Angst drabble 2

Read on Ao3 

Character death warning

Despite Taako’s objections to the contrary, elves were mortal. They aged, so slowly it was barely perceptible by humans.

Taako had an uncle...or great uncle...maybe he was just an old cranky cousin? Anyway, some family member that took in him and Lup for the Elven equivalent of two seconds before sending them off again. He told Taako and Lup never to make friends with other races, because they aged too quickly, and Taako would inevitably end up alone. Taako just thought he was racist, which he was, but it took a good 800 years before Taako was willing to admit MAYBE he had a point.

He kept his glamour charm up nearly all the time, but every once in a while, he put it down to look in the mirror and see what time had done. Not to mention sometimes he just needed the spell slots. His golden blonde hair had turned stark white. His skin, once perfectly bronzed was now wrinkled.

And there were some things no magic in the world could totally fix. His eyesight, for one, losing a good deal of his darkvision and normal vision. His hearing at least allowed him a good excuse to yell at the whippersnappers going about. If there was one thing he enjoyed about being old it was complaining about young people, not that he needed youth as an excuse to do that.

But the worst thing was the memory. It started small, taking a minute or longer to remember an old friend’s name. Making up what happened when he couldn’t remember a story of his own life. A spell or two he didn’t know. His aunt’s recipes.

It was getting worse, though. One fateful day, he couldn’t remember Magnus’ name, and he rushed to the graveyard to see it and apologize to his old friend. It was decorated well, as a hero of legend’s grave should be. Kids went on field trips to come see it.

They were all gone now. Magnus, Lucretia, Davenport, Merle, Ren, Carey, Killian, Avi, Leon, Lucas...even Agnus had grown up before Taako’s very eyes and then died of old age. Many of his friends had had children, who then grew up and died, and then their children….humans were stupid. They were like damn Goldfish with the way they kept dying, what the fuck?

The people closest to him weren’t like that. Kravitz, Lup, and Barry stayed on. They all lived in the same house for a long time. It wasn’t fair, they got to live forever, but they stayed the SAME. Stupid reapers.

After going out to see Magnus, Taako realized one more thing he forgot: the way home. He stumbled around town a bit, trying to retrace his steps, but only found himself more lost, until finally a robed figure appeared out of the mist in front of him. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on me, Bluejeans?”

“Sorry,” Barry said, putting up his hands in surrender. “We got back and you weren’t home. Lup and Krav are worried, so we split up to find you.”

Taako ‘hmph’d’ impressively. One good thing about being old was being able to ‘hmph’ properly. “And what, you were just the lucky bastard to check this…” He looked around. He didn’t know where he was.

“Actually,” Barry covered for his old friend’s lack of memory, “I asked around and the kids said there was a crazy old elf wizard shouting ‘abracafuck you’ and blasting a statue.”’

Taako chuckled, “heh. Classic.”

Barry created a rift in the air and offered for Taako to step in. “I better call Lup and Krav. Get ready for a lecture about wandering around.”

“I’m not a caged animal,” he said, “This guy’s so fine, it’d be a shame to hide from the world.”

Barry smirked, but knew better than to argue. “Where’d you go, anyway?”

Taako collapsed on the sofa and regretted it instantly. He now felt all the misery holding himself upright and walking around had caused him. “Graveyard,” He said, like it was nothing.

Barry put the stone of farspeech down. “Oh,” he said.

He went over to sit on the sofa, but Taako shooed him away. “I miss them too, you know,” Barry said, “Every day.”

“Why?” Taako asked, “You get to go to the land of the dead all the time.”

Barry sighed, “Being in the astral plane and being part of the sea of souls is...different,” he said. “Only the Raven Queen knows anything about what it’s like, and she says she can’t tell us or it’ll melt our brains or something.”

Taako snorted, “Cop out.”

“Probably,” Barry agreed, “But...still. It doesn’t get any easier.”

“Barry...look at me,” Taako said, and he dropped his Glamour. He was well kept for an elf. Had lived longer than most, well taken care of and having a husband who was death didn’t hurt. But still he knew he was a pile of bones wrapped together with some skin wrinklier than an unironed sheet. “This...this doesn’t get any easier.”

Barry tried not to look pitying. He really did. “Hey, I’d hardly think you were more than 700.”

Taako snorted, shaking. He was always shaking. “I’m gonna die, Barry,” He said, “Soon. One of you three are gonna have to drop me in the death soup--”

“Please don’t call it that.”

“--And we both know it’s not going to be the other two.” Taako said, staring Barry down until he understood. Barry sobered instantly, realizing what Taako was saying. “Kravitz and I have had a long time,” Taako said, “Longer than most. But all mortals have to die eventually. And Lup….” Taako twiddled with his thumbs, trying to get them to just stay STILL for Istus’ sake. “We promised we’d never leave each other again. But we can’t...I can’t…”

He took a deep sigh, Barry staying still, “Elves live a long time, but eternity is eternity. You lot are gonna live twice as long as me, and I don’t want them to suffer without my brilliant presence,” he swallowed, “So that’s gonna be on you, Barry, to help them through it. So you’d best start adjusting now.”

Barry didn’t say anything for a long silence. He finally broke it with the quietest, “I, um,” he said, “I’m gonna call them. Let them know you’re ok.”

The next morning, Taako woke to Kravitz gently shaking him awake. He didn’t meditate as much anymore, too much focus. “Wake up, love,” Kravitz said in his low, melodic voice. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re going on a trip.”

Taako grumbled at the intrusion, “Five more minutes,” he insisted, but was surprised to hear laughter at that. It was Lup’s laugh. He peeked his eye open to see she was in the room with him, along with Barry. “What’d’you want?”

“Kravitz already said,” she said, “We’re going on a trip.”

“Where?” He asked, still stubbornly clinging to sleep.

“It’s a surprise!” She said.

Taako grumped. He probably wasn’t going to remember the place if she said it anyway. “Fine. It better not be that museum that keeps pestering me. They can’t have my hat, I don’t care if it’s part of their exhibit.”

“It’s not the museum,” Kravitz assured, offering his hand. Taako took it and allowed himself to be pulled up off the bed and onto the floor. He felt less achy today, that was good. “Come on, now, best we hurry.”

“I’ll take my damn time, and you’ll deal with it,” Taako grumped as Kravitzed held him around the middle to help him walk forward, kissing his cheek. Even at...however old he was, he still blushed. “Sap.”

He was so distracted, he didn’t even realize he’d left his body behind.

Taako didn’t remember much, other than shuffling his feet, left, right, left again, going wherever Kravitz led him. “I’m gonna be hungry in a few minutes,” he let them all know, so this place better have food.”

“It’ll have everything you need,” Barry commented, him and Lup keeping pace behind them.

Taako grumbled, “That sounds suspicious as heck, Barold.”

“We’re here,” Kravitz said, and Taako looked up. They were at the beach. But it didn’t seem like a normal beach. There was an old cottage, long abandoned, sitting on an island (when did they get to an island?). There was the sound of waves, but no people or animals, not even a bird. He looked up at the dark sky and finally realized where he was. The Astral Plane. “Oh…” he said, and then looked between the Reapers, “It’s today?”

“It is.” The voice behind the four of them said, and Taako’s eyes fell on the Raven Queen. She didn’t seem to take steps as she approached, just floating along the ground, a veil covering her face. “I hope I’m not late, I wanted to be here for the departure.”

“Nice to see your son in law off,” He said, but then the four of them were still silent. It was hard to tell, under that damn veil, but the Raven Queen wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at Kravitz. “Krav--”

Kravitz let go of Taako, and he was surprised to find he could stand on his own. Kravitz approached the Raven Queen with reverence, and bowed before her. She lifted him by the chin, looking down at him, and speaking quiet words Taako couldn’t hear. Then, Kravitz summoned his scythe and handed it over. “What are you doing?” Taako demanded, “Stop--

He tried to run forward but Lup held him back. He turned around to see she had summoned her scythe too, as had Barry. Barry stepped forward next to hand his in. “We talked it over,” Lup said, “Weighing everything, but...it was already decided a long time ago.”

“Love,” Kravitz said, coming back to him and taking his hand, “I’ve lived longer than you have.”

“Cradle robber,” Taako accused lovingly, getting Kravitz to smile.

“I’ve seen all the things I wanted to see and done all the things I wanted to do.” Kravitz tucked Taako’s hair behind his long ears, “All I really want anymore is to be with you. In all things.”

“But it’s supposed to just be me,” Taako said, and realized he was crying. How he was able to he had no idea, but he was anyway, “You’re supposed to go on, you’re immortal, you--”

“We,” Lup said, “Are a package deal, goofus.” She handed her scythe over with a respectful nod, “Besides, Queenie says this happens every millenia or so. We helped her pick out some replacements that weren’t total douche waffles. World goes on and all that.”

The Raven Queen didn’t seem to know how to respond to being called ‘Queenie’ and so addressed Taako. “Rarely does a mortal affect the lives of a reaper. Even more rarely three. But I must respect their wishes, even if I wish I could convince them to stay longer.”

Kravitz shook his head, “Not a second without him in the world,” he said, taking Taako’s hand. Taako couldn’t help the little smile on his face.

Then, Lup took his other hand, and Barry took her other hand. “Ready, Koko?”

Taako turned, facing the sea of souls. “Hey, last thing,” he said, looking up at the Raven Queen, “the whole ‘your brains would melt’ if you knew about death is a cop out, right?”

The Raven Queen just smiled, and Taako sighed, frustrated. “Guess I just have to find out myself,” and he stepped into the shallows, his family with him.

for the drabble meme, Where the Morning Light Shines, Aang meets Mai?

Drabble: 800 words. Total Meme Wordcount: 5000 words.

Where the Morning Light Shines: [Link]

Where the Summer Sun Hides

Under most circumstances, Mai was willing to bet that the young Avatar was probably not an unsettling figure. It was just the look he was giving her, like he was sizing her up as more than a clan chief. Then he smiled. “So you’re Mai.”

“And you’re the Avatar.”

“Aang,” he replied. “You married Zuko, so it’s just Aang. You’re not really what I expected.”

“Ah,” Mai said. “Did he tell you about me while he was escorting you around the world?”

“Yeah.” Aang shrugged. “I guess I should have expected you to end up married, with the way he talked about you.”

“That’s adorable,” Mai said flatly. There was no need to get into all of the ways sentiment hadn’t factored into their decision to marry. “And I want you to know I’m going to use it.”

“I didn’t know you got married though.” He glanced down. “Or that you were pregnant.”

Mai put a hand on her belly. “That’s the way things go, I guess.”

“They didn’t used to,” he told her. “Back before, people wrote letters all the time. There were people whose whole job as to deliver letters, and the Fire Nation had birds that carried letters if you wanted them to get somewhere really fast. It’s just hard to wrap my head around my friend getting married and having a kid without me knowing about it.”

“We have couriers, if we need something to the island heads, but most people can’t read. The couriers have to be able to read and write so they can read the letter out, and then take down the reply. That’s only for emergencies though.”

“Not very private,” he commented.

“No.”

“Do you know how to read?” he asked curiously, suddenly very much the fifteen year old boy.

“Iroh is teaching me.”

“Well at least you’re learning!” he said encouragingly. “That’s the important thing.”

“I am aware that he won’t be able to teach me while you’re training with him,” Mai added. “I won’t get in your way.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Aang said. “I’m going to be here for a while. There’s time for both of us. You’re ruling the Fire Islands. You should know how to read.”

“This must all be very strange for you,” Mai said suddenly. “Nothing being like it was.”

Aang put his hand on the rough wood wall of the longhouse. “Back then, they would have called you a Firelady. They probably will some day, but if you were a Firelady back then, you would live in a palace, and this whole place would be the size of your bedroom. There would be portraits of you on the walls, paintings, tapestries. Even just the walls themselves would be sanded smooth and painted. And you wouldn’t have helped build it. Someone else would do that.”

“I’ve been to the old palace. It doesn’t feel real.” Mai remembered the thrill of the day they slotted the great roof beam into place, with Zuko’s clan and hers cheering and yelling as they hoisted it into place. She had held the east end, and Zuko the west end, and after it was in place, and the frame didn’t crack, they had lit the bonfires and danced and partied until the next morning. The palace hadn’t seemed like something that could be built by real people, with real human hands. Maybe that was what happened when the people who lived in a place weren’t the ones who built it, or maybe it was what happened when the people who came later were left ransacking it for the last of its treasures like scavengers picking the last putrid pieces of meat off a carcass. Maybe it was just the way it was when they had broken the rotten floorboards and piled them together into a bonfire in the middle of the floor, and huddled around it, as if the cavernous room around them really was just another cave. It hadn’t seemed real that such a place could be the work of thousands upon thousands of people, and that it was just rotting around them. “I used to go exploring there with Ty Lee, and Zuko and his sister.”

“I never saw it,” Aang told her. “But I heard it used to be really beautiful.”

Mai looked around her at the longhouse, with the thin trickle of sunlight coming through the open doors to the east, west, and south, with its walls full of gaps, and the woven mats that could be raised or lowered to let in the breeze or keep out the rain. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had, I guess.”

“Maybe.” Aang looked doubtful. “A lot of people seem to, though.”

Mai didn’t see the point. “Not me.”

“No.” He smiled. “I guess not.”