#i saw her name on ao3 so i hope it's correct

[the-chickenshit-oddity]

half-bad aka the bastard son and the devil himself prompt

ceelia awoke my mommy issues, apparently, so i want a story where she's, like, somewhat of a mom-figure for nathan. i mean, she's the first person after his mom to hold him, she spent seventeen years checking up on him (yeah okay it's her job, but look me in the eyes and tell me that's not the kind of task you shove off onto the newbie the second you can get away with it), i would bet you she showed up to his graduations too, just to be there. basically, a story where she goes just a little bit above "just the job" for nathan, as much as she can without being told off for it.

#the bastard son and the devil himself #nathan byrne #ceelia bennett #i saw her name on ao3 so i hope it's correct #the-c-odd-prompt #codd-sequel

[jmliebert]

Starry Nights belong to lovers

Summary: Gale longing for Tav while being positively miserable (because i love my man being miserable sometimes, y'know...)

smut with (a little bit of) fluff and angst?

Word count: 4,250

Tags: romance, angst, longing, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: because in my last playthrough i was torn between keep romancing gale or losing it all to the polygamist relationship with halsin... ( i chose my babyboy gale tho) but the possibilities are endless and here's one of them !!

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

Well, that was rather embarrassing predicament, to say the least. Gale of Waterdeep, esteemed wizard, lurking in the shadows like a common maniac. Observing a woman of his dreams from afar. A woman who had once held his heart in the palm of her hand, only to cast it aside for another. Positively pathetic, isn’t it? 

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, like an astronomer gazing upon a distant star, simultaneously drawn to its brilliance and wary of its celestial power. There was something about Tav, something ineffable, yet undeniably captivating, that compelled him to observe her, whenever he had a chance. Mind you, Gale's captivation resided not in the moments of intimacy, but rather in the quiet nuances of Tav's daily life. He found himself drawn to her ordinary rituals, avoiding the intrusion upon her private moments as a matter of principle— he adored watching her writing letters in the soft glow of the evening, tending to her garden with such grace, the quiet reverence with which she communed with nature's wonders. Each gesture, each fleeting expression painted a portrait of a woman both ordinary and extraordinary, and Gale found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

And yet, amidst the tapestry of her daily life, there was one thread that left a bitter taste upon his tongue— Halsin. Oh, how he despised the very mention of the name, the mere thought of the druid being so close to Tav and being her lover (whatever that meant in Halsin’s world), stirred a pang of ugly jealousy within his breast. For what claim did Halsin have upon Tav's affections, he wondered relentlessly, when it was he who loved her from the very beginning. It was he who worshipped the ground she was walking on. And finally, it was he who forgot his goddess because of her. 

Still, Tav didn’t choose Gale. 

Well, maybe that statement wasn’t entirely correct. In truth, Tav did chose Gale at the beginning of their journey. They would spend countless hours in his tent, engrossed in conversation and lost in the pages of books. Their laughter echoed through the camp. He took great care to ensure that Tav received the choicest bits during their shared meals and in moments of distress, Tav sought solace in his reassuring presence, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand clasped firmly in hers. Though Gale never said it out loud, he felt a swell of pride knowing he was the one she turned to in her hour of need. 

Oh, how he admired her unwavering sense of justice and compassion. She was committed to doing what was right, even when faced with the most daunting challenges. In a world this wicked and dark, she was a beacon of light. She gave him hope when all seemed lost, and in turn he offered her his heart, but Tav wanted more, it would seem. 

He saw her talking with Halsin more and more as they were roaming through The Shadow-Cursed Lands. It seemed as though every passing moment brought them closer together. Tav's radiant smile and melodious laughter filled the air as she was talking with the druid. And the way he looked at her, made something inside Gale stir. Halsin gaze lingered on Tav, his eyes alight with admiration, mirroring Gale’s own. It was pretty obvious, yet, when Tav asked him, how he would feel as to having another person in their relationship he was taken aback. His first thought was the baby. 

“What, like a child? I’m not sure I’d consider myself a father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what I would called settled…”

“It’s Halsin. He wants to be with me, but he doesn’t ask that I sacrifice you. We would…share.” Tav's words hung in the air, heavy with implication

Share?

Gale's mind reeled at the notion. “Share? You’re not a loaf of bread to be divided up at a supper time! I thought what we had meant something for you.” 

But apparently he was wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t mean as much to Tav, as it meant to him and the realisation of that made him a truly miserable man. He was also angry, so angry beneath the surface. It was hard to stay at the camp after all this, it was hard to watch them talking, breathing, just being. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Tav. And for that he was even more enraged. How could he be so weak? 

As the time passed and Baldur’s Gate was finally safe, the companions went their separate ways. At first, Gale welcomed the prospect of solitude, believing that distancing himself from Tav would bring him peace. He came back to Waterdeep  and sought solace in his study, surrounded by his precious books and arcane tomes. He threw himself into his studies with renewed fervour, delving into the depths of ancient texts and lost knowledge in an attempt to distract himself from the pain gnawing at his heart, but it wouldn’t go away.

One evening, after one too many glasses of wine, Gale found himself consumed by a reckless impulse. It was a night much like any other, yet something within him stirred, a restless energy that demanded release. Casting an invisibility spell upon himself, he ventured out into the night. Before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself teleporting to the familiar streets of Baldur's Gate. Near where he knew Tav lived, to be precise. He told himself he was merely checking on her, ensuring her safety in a world fraught with danger. But deep down, he knew the truth.

As he watched her from the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, he found himself entranced by her mere presence. She was brushing her hair, her movements fluid and graceful, her face bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. In that moment, she looked so utterly beautiful, that Gale had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

It began as a one-time occurrence, a fleeting moment of weakness, he told himself. Yet, with each passing day, Gale found himself seeking out more excuses to linger in Tav's vicinity, even if she remained unaware of his silent vigil. And so, he became a ghostly spectator, haunting the edges of her life, longing for a connection he knew he could never truly have. 

Because, how could he? How could he love her one moment only to watch her slip away into the arms of another the next? He couldn’t live like this, even if it’s Tav. So he just watched her, not ready to let go. 

☾☾☾

This particular night, Tav was alone. Halsin was away, tending to orphans he took under his wings after all that happened in Baldur’s Gate. Truth be told, Halsin's frequent absences were a relief to Gale as it was still hard for him to witness the bond he had with Tav. There was an intimacy between them that Gale found himself unable to stomach. 

Gale found Tav in her bedroom, nestled on the bed, a book cradled in her hands like a precious treasure. The soft glow of candlelight bathed her in a warm embrace, casting delicate shadows across her features. She looked so peaceful, so utterly content in that moment, and Gale couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. In another life, they would read their books side by side every night, their fingers tracing the words upon the pages. 

Gale, didn’t know exactly why, but instead of his usual routine of observing Tav from the safety of the window, like a little puppy desperately waiting for their owner to let them in, he now found himself seated in his favourite chair on the other side of Tav's bed, invisible. It was an audacious move, even for him. Maybe, he was feeling particularly lonely that starry, romantic night? Or maybe there was something in the summer air… no matter what, the pull of her presence was too strong to resist at that moment.

So Gale was sitting there, watching Tav and enjoying the warm breeze. Lost in his thoughts, he shifted slightly in his seat, his foot inadvertently knocking into one of the candles seated on the floor. His heart lurched as he watched in horror as the candle toppled over, its flame igniting the delicate fabric of Tav's blanket. Panic surged through him as he realised what he had done, his mind racing with frantic thoughts, his hands on his head in pure disbelief. 

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“Gale?” Tav’s voice, full of confusion, pierced through the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Gale's veins. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, Gale summoned a rush of water, his practiced fingers weaving a complex pattern in the air as he cast a rapid incantation. The water swirled and danced in the air, cascading gracefully onto the flames and extinguishing them in a matter of seconds. As the last flicker of flame died out, Gale hesitated for a moment before releasing the invisibility spell that had cloaked him from view. With a soft shimmering light, he materialised into view, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and devastation of a defeated man.

"Hello, Tav," he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he met her gaze. "It seems I've made a bit of a mess, haven't I?” Gale asked as the smoke began to dissipate around him.

Now, he was waiting for Tav to be (rightfully) furious at him, but she wasn’t. Instead, she seemed to be…concerned? 

“Are you all right?” Her voice was laced with genuine worry, her eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. It was a simple question, but it carried a weight that caught Gale off guard.

For a moment, Gale found himself speechless. He had anticipated anger or confusion, not this. His heart felt heavy. 

"I'm...I'm fine," he stammered, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief as he struggled to compose himself.

“Good,” Tav said, stepping closer to Gale and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He froze momentarily at the unexpected touch, his heart racing in his chest. “I don’t understand how you got here,” Tav murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she buried her face in Gale's chest, “and I’m not even sure if I want to know,” she added. "But I’m glad you are here," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I’ve missed you... more than I can put into words." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and cascading down her cheeks as she clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Gale felt his body stiff at first at the sudden gesture, but despite it all he held her close, offering silent reassurance as they stood together in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Shh," he whispered softly, his touch tender as he traced soothing circles along her back. With every motion, he felt the weight of her sorrow, the depth of her longing, and his own heartache mirrored in her tears. He fought to hold back his own emotions, to be the pillar of strength she needed in that moment. To be a true man. But beneath the facade of composure, Gale's own tears threatened to spill over. “I’ve missed you too, Tav.” And his words were honest. 

"After we destroyed the brain, you left so abruptly," Tav's voice trembled with emotion, her words carrying the weight of unspoken pain."I thought... I thought maybe you didn't want to see me ever again, that you detested me. And I understand if you do. I know you might think that all we had, was just a facade, a lie, but it wasn't.”

Gale listened in silence, and his heart throbbed with pain. He hated to watch her cry. ”I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hushed cadence of the night. "I never meant to hurt you.” 

"I should be the one apologising," she murmured, her voice laced with regret. "I felt so guilty for leaving you like that, Gale. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep, feeling your absence like a gaping wound. And in those moments, Halsin... he was there for me. But it wasn't the same. It could never be the same.”

Gale's chest tightened at her confession, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear. "Tav..." he began, his voice choked with emotion and…hope? But before he could utter another word, she silenced him with a gentle touch of her hand. She looked deep into his eyes, looking for something in them. 

"Gale," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. "I want you to know... I love you. I've always loved you." Her words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and emotion. "But I also love Halsin. In a different way, perhaps, but love nonetheless.”

Gale felt his heart sink at her admission, a pang of sorrow lancing through him like a blade. Despite the warmth of her touch, he couldn't shake the chill that settled in the depths of his very soul. "Tav," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "you know I'm not... I can't be... I want you all to myself. It hasn't changed since the last time we spoke about this.” And despite himself he added— “I think I should leave now.”

With a heavy sigh, he made a move to leave, to escape the turmoil of his emotions, but before he could take more than a few steps, Tav's hand shot out, grabbing his own with a desperate urgency. 

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "Not tonight. Let's forget about Halsin, about everything. Just... let's be together tonight, you and I. Please?” Her eyes searched his, pleading for understanding, for connection, for something to hold onto in the midst of their tangled emotions.

And then she came closer, dangerously close. As her lips met his in a tender yet impassioned kiss, Gale felt his resolve waver, crumbling like sand between his fingers. The warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her embrace, it all washed over him like a wave, sweeping him away in a sea of longing and desire.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Gale's heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm of their kiss echoing the tumultuous beat of his emotions. And in that fleeting moment, as their lips parted and their eyes locked in silent understanding, Gale surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their shared desire. With a surge of strength, Gale lifted Tav effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the bed. Each step felt like a revelation. 

As he gently laid her down upon the soft sheets, their eyes met once more, the intensity of their gaze speaking volumes. With trembling hands, Gale traced the contours of her face, memorising every curve and line as if committing them to memory.

Tav appeared as a vision of ethereal beauty, her form draped in the delicate embrace of silk nightwear that accentuated every curve and contour of her body. Gone were the rugged trappings of their journey through the wilderness, replaced instead by the subtle elegance of her attire. Gale found himself captivated, his gaze lingering on the gentle curve of her neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath. There was a vulnerability in her appearance that stirred something deep within him, a longing to protect and cherish her with every fiber of his being.

“Oh, Tav,” Gale said as he enveloped her body in his arms, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling deeply the sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped her. The warmth of her body pressed against his own ignited a fire within him, a primal urge that had been dormant for far too long. As their bodies pressed together, a wave of arousal washed over him, leaving him painfully hard and achingly aware of every brush of skin. Tav's hand found its way between their bodies, her touch sending shivers of pleasure racing up his spine as she palmed his growing erection.

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as pleasure rippled through him, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if he had been starved for this connection, this physical closeness, and now that he had it, he was powerless to resist its allure. As Tav shifted her position being on top of him, like his queen, straddling Gale's hips, she moved with a fluid grace that left him mesmerised. With deft fingers, she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the toned muscles beneath, her touch sending a shiver of anticipation through his willing body.

In response, Gale reached up to grasp the hem of Tav's nightdress, pulling it over her head with a reverence that bordered on worship. As the fabric fell away, she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, her skin aglow with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Gale's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Tav was utterly beautiful, her rounded breasts heaving with each breath, her thighs pressing against his hips as she straddled him. In that moment he knew, she held him in the palm of her hand, a goddess of desire and passion, and he was powerless to resist as he was just a mere human. 

As she unbuttoned his pants and her fingers wrapped around his throbbing penis, Gale felt himself losing control. Every touch sent shivers down his spine, his desire mounting with each caress. Despite his trembling voice, he managed to murmur, "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to," she responded, her breath warm against his skin as she pressed a tender kiss to the glans of his penis. Gale took a deep breath through his clenched teeth. His arousal was palpable, his desire for her nearly overwhelming as she took him into her mouth with a delicate grace that left him shaking with need. Each sensation was magnified tenfold, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over him in an ecstatic frenzy. As her lips closed around him, he could feel the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, her tongue dancing along his length with a skill that bordered on sinful.

Gale could hardly contain the primal urge building within him, the intensity of his desire threatening to consume him whole. With each gentle caress and tantalising stroke, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his body aching for release. His hips moving shyly, only to be held down by Tav hands.

“ Tav, Tav I’m close,” he said, but she didn’t stop instead she was sucking him even harder. And when Gale finally came, it was like an explosion of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before. With a cry of ecstasy, he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, his body convulsing with the force of his release as he spilled himself into Tav's waiting mouth, his senses ablaze with a euphoria that left him gasping for breath. The world went quiet for a second, but not long after he felt Tav body on his. Her soft curves pressed against his chest. Her lips, swollen from their passionate encounter, hovered just inches from his own, and he couldn't resist the urge to draw her closer, his fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Gale smiled. 

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock away from her forehead. When he saw a droplet of his sperm lingering in the corner of her mouth, he couldn't help but be overcome by a sudden surge of desire. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, capturing the droplet with his thumb and bringing it to his lips, savouring the taste of their shared passion as he licked it away. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, Gale felt himself consumed by a hunger unlike anything he had ever known, his hands roaming freely over her back as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. 

Their night was far from the end. 

Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, as their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desire. With every touch, every caress, Gale felt a surge of longing course through him, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. As his hand trailed down her spine, exploring every curve and contour of her body, Tav's breath hitched in her throat, a soft moan escaping her lips as she melted into his touch. And when his fingers finally found their way to the wetness between her legs, she couldn't help but arch her back in response, a shudder of pleasure coursing through her.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, Gale shifted his position, kneeling between her legs as he drank in the sight of her. His heart raced in his chest as he watched her, every movement, every quiver of her body, sending waves of desire crashing over him.

"I need you, inside," Tav whispered, reading his thoughts exactly. Her voice barely more than a breathless plea. Her eyes bore into his, dark with desire, and Gale knew he couldn't deny her. With a tenderness Gale lowered himself down onto her, positioning his penis to her sweet entrance. 

He had imagined it countless times during the lonely hours in his study, weaving fantasies in the quiet solitude of his mind. But now, as the reality of their passion unfolded before him, it surpassed even his most vivid dreams. In her embrace, Gale felt a sense of wholeness he had longed for, a completeness that eluded him in his solitary existence. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, Gale focused on the sensation of her body beneath his, the warmth of her skin against his own. And when Tav's hips began to move in a gentle rhythm, he followed suit, his movements initially tentative but growing bolder with each passing moment, encouraged by her soft moans. 

Quickly Gale found himself lost in the heady haze of desire, his senses overwhelmed by the sight and sound of Tav squirming beneath him, her moans of pleasure driving him to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, each movement of their bodies, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him ever closer to the brink of release. He groaned each time he was all in, deep inside her sweet wetness, his gaze locked onto hers with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed.

As he drew near, his thrusts grew increasingly erratic, his control slipping with each passing moment. Despite his desperate attempts to hold back, he found himself on the precipice of release, his body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, my love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek. And as Tav's back arched in ecstasy, her breath hitching, and walls tightening Gale felt his own climax approaching like a tidal wave, ready to engulf him in its powerful embrace. With a low, guttural grunt, he buried himself deep inside her, his hands gripping hers tightly as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over him. With a primal cry, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies convulsing in unison as waves of bliss washed over them.

In that moment of pure connection, Gale surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, his release flooding Tav's depths with a torrent of his essence. Deep inside her, he poured himself into her with abandon, his ropes of cum filling her wholly as they became one. As the last echoes of their shared climax faded into the hushed stillness of the room, Gale held Tav tightly in his embrace, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking. They lay there, panting and spent, their hearts racing.

Desperately, Gale clung to the fleeting moment, reluctant to pull away from the intimate connection they shared. He wanted to linger inside her, to savor the warmth of her embrace for just a little while longer, before the outside world intruded once more. 

Gale's touch was tender, his hand tracing soothing patterns along Tav's back, lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her hand resting gently on his chest, she seemed so close, yet so far away. And for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect, as if they had found each other's again.But as Gale's fingers sense the tiny wooden duck hidden beneath the pillow, reality came crashing back with brutal clarity. It was a stark reminder of the presence they could not escape, a symbol of the inevitable truth that awaited them at dawn. His heart felt empty. What they had shared this night was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a desperate grasp at something unattainable.

“I love you,” he said softly, though he knew he shouldn’t. 

With one last lingering gaze at Tav's sleeping form, he turned away, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders as he made his way out of her bedroom, finally letting her go for good. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 romance #bg3 imagine #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale x you #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x oc #gale smut #gale fluff #gale angst #gale imagine #gale headcanons #gale in love #oh gale

[asimplearchivist]

‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader word count ☾ 15.7k a/n ☽ [gif credit] ⤏ aka my personal love letter to one steven grant (and myself, because I want to be loved like I love just once). ⤏ i am going to be completely honest on this one, guys: this is a borderline self-insert fic that is 100% self-indulgent on my part bc i have felt like shit the last two months and want to treat myself. ⤏ i kept it as a reader-insert because a) some people (including myself) enjoy experiencing different ‘pov’s of reader-inserts, per se; b) it’s easier to be kinder to and romanticize myself when it’s ‘not me’; and c) i feel that it’s still vague/inclusive enough to be counted as a general reader-insert versus labeling it strictly as a self-insert/original character. i really only describe personality traits and the reader being petite, really (bc nothing comforts my 5’0” ass more than knowing i would actually be able to kiss the boys without craning my neck all the way back tbh). i use a few southern colloquialisms, too, just fyi. :) ⤏ typical moon knight fanfic disclaimer: I don’t claim to know very much about did beyond what I’ve gleaned from both the show, the various meta posts I’ve read on tumblr, and from other fanfics themselves, so please forgive and correct me on any glaring discrepancies/issues I may have presented here (or link me any posts that discuss more accurate representations of did, perhaps—that’d be greatly appreciated). some of the terminology/technicalities escape me. I tried my best to get their voices and characterizations just right, and I sincerely hope I succeeded bc they’re very special to me. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven met you, it was strictly by happenstance.

He had always considered himself a man with many friends. Although his routine was relatively simple compared to other Londoners who thrived in social settings and spent all of their free time anywhere but home to mingle and chase tail, he had familiar faces he saw frequently. He committed their names to memory when they’d give them off-handedly, he made a point to speak to them in passing even if he or they were otherwise occupied, and he kept a mental list composed of all the details he was able to glean strictly from observation when they didn’t readily volunteer the information.

Perhaps it was a little silly. All lot of them had trouble remembering him, sure, but he couldn’t hold it against them—tons of people had trouble keeping track of faces and people. Sure, JB never quite got his name right even after Steven had worked at the museum for a couple of months by now, but he was a busy man monitoring the security cameras all day long and stayed distracted (with his infatuation with otters, no less—as endearing of a trait as any for someone with a secret soft side). Donna stayed in a tizzy, always worked up over something beyond her control (Steven couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be dealing with the higher-ups trying to meet goals and attempting to exceed them). He didn’t really dislike them for it, even if it had grown rather grating as of late. (Even if it would only take them both a moment to look at his conveniently given and placed nametag.)

Crowley didn’t talk much, all part of the gig, so Steven didn’t hold their one-sided conversations against him, either. The gentleman with the broom cart (whose name Steven never had managed to catch, as gruff as he was) seemed only to ever respond with grunts. The security guards, the tour guides, the usual suspects on the morning and night bus rides…Steven interacted with them all, and they had enough good graces to acknowledge it most of the time.

Over time, however, as his dreams (or perhaps more aptly named nightmares) grew more vivid and more bizarre, as he seemed to lose track of time more and more (how exactly does one manage to miss an entire weekend when one isn’t a blackout drunk?), and as Steven’s anxiety led him into taking more and more precautions to make sure his self-diagnosed sleepwalking disorder didn’t strand him on the other side of London (again), it became more readily apparent that those people with whom he took such care to converse did not seem particularly inclined to return the favor. Sure, he’d accidentally nodded off a few times leaning on the other passengers in the morning bus, ran a little late at times getting to the museum (much to Donna’s ever-increasing ire), and maybe got a little carried away with his nattering when he got invested in something he was excited to share information about, but…would it really kill someone just to respond long enough to reassure him that he wasn’t virtually invisible?

It was one such morning after he overslept, convinced he was late, and worked himself into a right and proper state trying to get to the museum on time that he realized that it was, in fact, Sunday, not Saturday. Much to his bewilderment but proven by his phone, the museum stood barren and closed, doors locked and lights off. He stood at the entrance staring at his dumbfounded expression in the glass for a good five minutes, thoughts racing as he tried to recall anything about the previous day. There was no way he slept an entire day, right? He hadn’t been staying up too late trying to manage his disorder, even if he had been running a little tired lately.

His distress was punctuated by a fat, chilly droplet landing right on his nose. The early spring weather was unseasonably cold this year, leading to an abnormally wet season (as if rain could ever be abnormal in London, but the meteorologists remained convinced), and within seconds of Steven turning and trotting down the steps the skies parted and released their torrential downpour as if just to spite him specifically. Everyone else in the immediate vicinity, if they weren’t holed up in their cars or the myriad establishments bordering the museum district, already had their umbrellas up to shield themselves from the frigid onslaught, ambling along and circumnavigating the puddles lingering from the storm the night before..

Steven shrank into his coat, tugging the collar up and over his head as best he could as he crossed the street and aimed for the first building he saw with its neon, ivory OPEN sign glowing against the gloom—on the corner directly across from the museum entrance. The door was heavy, the handle cold enough he was surprised his palm didn’t stick to it, but he managed to pry it open and tumble inside.

A few people glanced up from their tables to give him a range of skeptical to humored looks before going about their business. Steven hedged to the side of the door in case someone else came in, dripping onto the old hardwood with no small amount of regret.

It was a coffee shop. Comfortingly warm against his numb face, he basked in the scents of espresso and sweets permeating the place. His attention was caught by the bookshelves on the wall to his right, and he was entranced—all until a barista slipped out from the kitchen and addressed him with a croon. “Oh, goodness, look like the weather caught you!”

Steven almost accidentally ignored you thinking that you were talking to someone else (for so rarely did someone speak to him in a tone that wasn’t irritated or dismissive). After his cursory glance in your direction, he did a double-take, realizing you were looking right at him.

“Yeah, I—looked at the forecast wrong, methinks!” he responded sheepishly (and he had—he’d been expecting Saturday’s overcast mist, not Sunday’s shower). “I’m makin’ a right mess, aren’t I? I should probably go before I warp the stain—”

“No! No, just wait a second.” You raised a placating palm before dipping below sight behind the counter. You emerged and rounded the corner next to the display case holding a towel, walking right up to him and offering it to him with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t count the number of times I thought I could beat Mother Nature,” you joked. “It sucks that it’s been so cold on top of it. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten sick.”

Steven accepted it graciously, muttering his earnest thanks as he went about mopping up his sopping curls. Once he’d wiped all the rain he could off of him, he handed it back to you. “Hope I don’t get one, neither,” he responded. “It just wouldn’t do to catch cold in the middle of all this, would it? No.”

You chuckled a bit, eyes glittering with mirth. “Maybe it’ll help if I get you something hot to drink?”

Steven glanced at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter, eyes rounding a little at the prices. He’d overspent on books again after payday, so he was having to be a bit more frugal this week than usual. “Oh, no, don’t go to the trouble, I’ll just call a cab and get a ride home before it gets too bad.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, wringing the towel between your hands. You hesitated only a heartbeat before you leaned in a little closer, smile turning a bit bashful. “I’ll make it on the house, how’s that sound?”

Steven normally considered himself one to give where charity was concerned, but he had to admit that the sound of something warm on his urgently empty stomach was divine at the moment. He cleared his throat, glancing towards the other customers still wrapped up in their own little worlds. “No, I couldn’t—wouldn’t want anyone jealous that they’re not gettin’ the special treatment, you know.”

“It can be our little secret,” you offered quietly, winking conspiratorially at him.

He blinked, heat creeping up into his face. “Oh, well. If you insist, then…just this once?”

“All right.” Your smile lit up your entire face, and you headed back behind the counter to deposit the towel in an unseen hamper.

Steven followed, training his eyes on the menu—the standard fare was reasonable, with alternative options for dietary restrictions. A lot of the custom concoctions did seem lovely, and he was a tad surprised to discover that they served breakfast and lunch, also—with vegan options, most notably. “Wow, I never even knew this place existed. I must’ve been walkin’ right by it this whole time.”

“Do you work at the museum?” you inquired, folding your arms over the counter and propping your chin up in your palm.

“I do, actually,” he beamed, though it was dashed a tad with his next confession. “I want to be a tour guide one day—you know, I’ve been studyin’ up for it and all—but they’ve got me in the gift shop. For now! They said they’d move me up with a new position becomes available.” They said that they would consider him for the role, but Steven clung to his hope that they’d soon realize how bloody good he’d be at it, as hard as he’d been working for it for so long.

“You always have to start somewhere,” you replied warmly. You gestured to the shop around you. “This is just to hold me over ‘til I’m finished up.”

“Are you a transfer student?” Steven asked.

Your brow rose slightly, but your smile didn’t waver. “How observant. Most people ask me how I got lost on this side of the pond.”

“It isn’t often I see Americans anywhere but in the more touristy spots,” he agreed, “but the university is quite prestigious. You must be very academically successful if you landed a transfer scholarship like that.”

“It took a lot of work,” you admitted, “but it’s been worth it. I never thought I’d do anything like this, and I would’ve laughed at you a couple of years ago if you’d told me I’d move this far away from home. I’ve never really been the traveling type, but I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”

“What are you studyin’?” Steven inquired. An English major, perhaps—you struck him as the literary type with your articulation, despite your soft, southern drawl.

“Oh.” Your face darkened and you fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt—dark gray, warm flannel, with a silver astronomical design embroidered into the front. “Well. I went to a university back home and got a degree in writing—” Nailed it! “—but I was notified at graduation that I qualified for this so I thought why not? It’s a bit self-indulgent, really, as I’ve always been a history nut, but I’m, um…” You reached up and scratched the nape of your neck, glancing away as though embarrassed. “...focusing on Egyptology?”

Steven’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “No kiddin’!”

“Nope,” you confessed, a bit sheepish. “I picked up a book with pictures of King Tutankhamun’s treasures when I was three and I’ve been in love with it since. Maybe it’s a little niche, but it makes me happy—I’m taking other history classes, too, so I’ll end up with an Ancient History major with a minor in Egyptology—that’s just my main focus since I always wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was little. I don’t know that I could ever stand the heat, though, so I’m happy with writing in the comfort of my own home.”

“No, that’s great!” he raved, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a bit of a history buff meself! The museum has a huge Egyptology exhibit coming up next month, so I’ve been brushin’ up on it all. You know, in case I get to audition.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tried, emerging from your shell just a bit. “Do you have a favorite period?”

“New Kingdom, definitely,” he said immediately. His heart was thrumming, and he was trying (in vain) to contain at least the majority of his enthusiasm. “There’s just so much material to go through. All the texts recovered from Deir el-Medina fascinate me to no end!”

“Yeah, Paneb was a right bastard,” you joked. “He had the whole town stirred up all the time. But we’re not going to talk about Ea-Nasir.”

“Oh, yeah—imagine keepin’ all your hate mail for posterity,” he returned, strumming his fingers against the inside of his sleeves. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an Old Kingdom gal,” you said with a chuckle. “Pepi II’s letter about the pygmy won me over. Not to mention all the drama with Teti’s assassination. The workmen’s village at Giza? Oh, how could I pick one thing?”

Finally! Finally, it felt like Steven was talking to someone that spoke his language!

“It’s really hard to, isn’t it?” His stomach was starting to grumble. He cleared his throat, tamping down his anticipation just enough to concentrate on the matter at hand. He glanced up at the menu again, a little remiss with some of the unfamiliar choices—most of those displayed were coffee, but he’d been trying to curb himself off of it in favor of cutting out caffeine altogether for a better sleep schedule. “I, um…sorry, got a little sidetracked there. What would you recommend that’s decaf?”

“Oh, I love chai,” you told him. “Most of the teas we carry are decaf, though we do have decaf coffee, too. We’ve got all the usuals like chamomile, mint, Earl Grey…” You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine since I was a teenager—it makes me antsy.”

“How do you normally take your chai?” he queried, curious.

“As an iced latte,” you said. “Cold foam, cinnamon, whole milk. I like it warm, too, especially this time of year, but there’s something about it iced that I can’t seem to part from—maybe that’s the southern upbringing in me.” You gestured to the equipment behind you. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure! But with oat milk, please?”

“You’ve got it, darlin’,” you beamed, and set to work immediately. “I usually drink a small since it’s a bit sweet, that okay?”

“Certainly.”

Never would Steven have thought that he’d find such a deeply kindred soul a stone’s throw away from his workplace he’d never even noticed before today. He had to confess that he was charmed by you almost instantly. It had been a while since he’d met someone so engaging and open—not to mention generous and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! Ironic, really, that the foreigner was treating him more kindly than his native kinsmen. What did the Americans say about southern hospitality?

“Thank you so much,” he said when you returned with the cup and set it in front of him. “It looks great!”

“Go ahead and try it,” you suggested, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it for you with something else.”

Steven had absolutely no intention of telling you to your face that he disliked your favorite beverage, even if he did decide it wasn’t to his taste—much less make you go out of your way to make him another free drink. But as he sipped the heady, sweet mixture the spices melted over his tongue. Despite being served cold, the flavors warmed his mouth and settled cozily into his belly.

“Oh,” he suspired, licking the foam from his lips, “that’s lovely. You’ve won a convert.”

Your smile was nearly blinding with delight. “I’m glad! It’s not for everyone, certainly, but those who do like it always seem to love it. No in between, I guess.”

Steven resisted the urge to suck the entire thing down, folding it between his hands instead as he committed more details of your appearance to memory. Your black apron was a bit big for your frame, dwarfing you a bit, but your sweatshirt did, too—your jeans were well-fitted but not snug. You were wearing very little makeup, just a touch around the eyes, but it emphasized your lashes like a fawn’s. While comfortable, if a bit plain, your ensemble made you seem like the epitome of homey.

“How long have you lived in London?” he asked after another delightful sip.

“Since the start of spring semester,” you said. “It was a big adjustment to show up at the tail end of winter, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it now for the most part. I still get lost occasionally, but that’s why Google Maps was invented. I’d be up a creek without a paddle without it.” You leaned against the counter again, bracing yourself on the stained surface and gazing up at him as if there existed no other person in the world. “I live right next to the campus, but I work here to get away even though my scholarships carry most of my bills and fees. Ironic, though, ‘cause I don’t exactly consider myself a socialite.”

“You’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “Bit odd bein’ an ambivert, yeah?”

“I really only talk a lot when I get excited or when I’m with people I’m comfortable being around,” you confessed shyly. “I’ve been told I talk too much about stuff nobody really cares about, so I try not to bother anyone.”

“Now who on earth would have gone and told you that?” he pressed, heart aching all the while. How many times had he been told the very same thing, sometimes with less polite wording?

“Oh, not exactly like that,” you rectified in a hurry, “it’s just…you can tell, you know? When someone isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. I usually get interrupted anyway, so sometimes I find it easier just to keep quiet.” Your skin darkened again, and cleared your throat as you dipped your face to conceal it with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went into all that. See? Rambling too much—words got away from me.”

It was like looking into a mirror—so much so that Steven almost felt a bit of deja-vu.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “I understand completely—really, I do. Better than you might think.”

You raised your gaze back up to him, and he understood at once why the philosophers and poets both waxed so romantic on the concept of windows to the soul. He could see your tenderness, your diffidence, your sincerity all there in your jewel-like eyes.

“People talkin’ over you all the time,” he continued with a low murmur, looking down at the cup when the intensity of your stare grew too much—just like looking directly into the sun, “actin’ like you’re invisible or somethin’. Gets frustratin’, yeah? Couldn’t even bother to act like you’re there, could they? No. Seems like too much to ask.”

“Yeah,” you said somberly, but when Steven dared a glance up at you, your expression was one of complete understanding. Never before had he felt so seen. “It doesn’t help when you’re really not a people person to begin with.”

And now that Steven considered it more deeply, he realized that you were right—why did he prefer to stay home rather than go out? Keeping company with a goldfish certainly wasn’t an extrovert’s definition of a good time. Hell, the only reason he really went out of his way to engage with those on the fringes of his daily routine was because he felt it was rude not to because of constant exposure, not because he was itching to have the conversations themselves. He worried constantly that he’d overshare or annoy people, when most wouldn’t even think of it.

He let out a soft laugh, pressing a palm across his forehead.

You quirked a brow, your expression perking up just a bit at the sound. “What?”

“I just realized I’m not really a people person, either,” he said, shaking his head. “Thought all this time everyone else was just awkward at social interaction.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, and there was that ephemeral sparkle of mirth back in your eyes. “Well. Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He paused, then set the drink on the counter to fish around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, since you’ve been an absolute angel—”

“Oh, no, please,” you said, waving your palms at him in an attempt to dissuade him, “it was my pleasure. Finding someone else as big of a nerd about Ancient Egypt was tip enough, thank you. You’ve made my whole day.”

And even though his morning thus far had been an utter disaster, Steven believed that you had made his entire day, too.

“Well, all right.” He pointed a finger at you with a wry, toothy grin. “But next time you won’t be able to talk me out of it.”

“Next time?” you echoed, and the unadulterated hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

“Yeah,” he said, “where else will I be able to order the ambrosia of the gods? And nerd out about ancient civilizations? Not all baristas carry a double-edged sword like you do.”

You bit your lip, rolled the hem of your sleeve between your fingertips, and looked down and away. “Oh, stop it. It’s really just a hobby.” You gave him another cheeky smile. “But, if it would make a difference to you, since you seem the type…” You leaned in across the counter, and Steven found himself copying the action as though you had magnetized him. “...there’s a bookstore upstairs, too.”

Oh, bloody Nora, as if you weren’t already perfect enough.

Read the rest of the chapter here! :)

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant #reader insert #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction

[zorosjuicymelonsx]

Finding You

A/N: Hey lovelies, I'm here with a new chapter for you all. I hope you like it, its very fluffy. I don't know why I've been feeling super fatigued this week, its been very annoying since I've not been productive at all :( don't worry, I will bounce back as I always do. Finding You has reached over 1k hits on AO3 and over 100 likes on Tumblr and I just wanted to express my gratitude when I saw this. Thank you so much everyone and I will be back next week!

Chapter Six Previous Next

‘I miss you so much.’ You whispered to yourself, sitting on the cool sand listening to the waves crash against the sunset.

Your heart ached, turning to your side to see the empty space he should have been occupying next to you. You felt your throat closing and your lip tremble, leaning your head down in between your knees to choke out a quiet sob.

Where are you?

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

You woke, groggily blinking your eyes to open as you adjusted to the bright light seeping into your room. You lifted your head slightly to look for Nami and Robin to see if you’d woken up too early or too late. The room was different. Why was-

You shot up, taking in your surroundings and remembering you shared your first night with Zoro. You cautiously turned to your side, only to find his side of the bed empty. You breathed a sigh of relief, holding your chest to calm yourself. You didn’t mind spending the night with him, in fact you had overly fantasized the day you would get to. It was only the first night and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt that you felt you were forcing him. 

You decided to move to cross your legs to meditate, to bring yourself back to the present and focus your negative thoughts away. You did this on occasion, Zoro had taught you a while back and you hadn’t turned back since. 

Breathe…1…2…3…

1…..2…..3……

“That's better.” You mumbled to yourself, deciding now you could start your day off. You got ready for the day, deciding on a blue blouse and black shorts would suffice for this hot weather, keeping your hair down to keep your neck cool. You slipped on a pair of comfortable white shoes, taking your sword and tying it to your shorts before leaving the room.

As you walked onto the lawn of the deck, your eyes scanned for Nami, finding her at the helm with Jinbe who was manning it. She was currently barking instructions at Luffy, Usopp, Franky and Brook who were currently running around the ship following her orders. You made your way up to her, seeing the focus she had on Jinbe shift to you and a smile beamed out of her.

“That island over there is where we’re going to stop, we all could do with a break.” Nami clarified, pointing across the ship, your eyes following and nodding as you saw the small island up ahead. 

“So…how was last night?” Nami asked, grinning slyly. You rolled your eyes at her smiling, knowing she would mention your night with the swordsman. 

“Nothing happened, we just slept. I’m guessing you and Robin had something to do with the decor?” You giggled out. 

“You’re welcome, I don’t even want to get into the plans Franky had for that room.” She shivered at the memory, you frowned in confusion but chose not to pry further. Her attention steered away from you, noticing Brook was incorrectly tying the rope and proceeded to walk over to correct him. 

Sighing, you walked over to the rail to admire the scenery of the sea. A small smile crept on your face, appreciating the beauty of the blue and white hues and taking a deep breath to smell the saltiness of the sea. You peered down to watch the crash of the waves against the ship, finding comfort in simply admiring the vast world around you. You never thought in a million years you would become a pirate, the name itself a stigma. After being with your crew that you’ve grown very fond of, you knew you wouldn’t have become a pirate unless it was with them. 

“I’ll do my best to reformulate this for you Zoro, then we can try again.” You faintly overheard the reindeer, turning your gaze to find Zoro and Chopper nodding at each other before Chopper headed back under the ship. Zoro looked up to see your gaze on him, you offered a small smile and a wave before he decided to make his way over to you. Your focus shifted back to the sea, whilst Zoro who was now leaning on the rail in a similar fashion to you.

“So…Chopper tried to test out his memory solution with me.” Zoro shared. You hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I’m guessing no success?” You raised an eyebrow. You heard a short ‘hm’ from him. 

“He’s going to try again, he said maybe he picked the wrong herb or something like that.” You looked away from the sea over to him, his eye was already on you.

“We’re heading to an island for a stop to rest.” You chose to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on the matter anymore.

“Good, I could do with getting off this ship for a bit.” You could see how tired he looked despite the number of naps the man could take in a day. Maybe a small chat with Nami would suffice to get the night shifts routine changed. 

“You plannin’ to do anything specific?” You didn’t want the conversation to end just yet. Despite being a man of a few words, you found comfort in his presence. Even just pure silence between you both was enough for you.

“Find a bar, get drunk, pass out, repeat.” You let out a small ‘ha’, it was typical Zoro behaviour even back at Shimotsuki. You could remember after graduation witnessing a competition he had with the local drunk to see who could drink the most. You remember being more concerned for the drunk than him, everyone knew how well Zoro could hold his tolerance for. Zoro did indeed win. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Zoro could see you were reminiscing on something, he felt it wasn’t his place to pry on that moment. He could see how content you were in that moment.

“What about you?” Zoro asked. He could have ended the conversation there, but something nudged him to continue the conversation. He surprised himself to feel just how easy you were to talk to.  You were surprised that he wanted to continue conversing with you rather than just ending it. 

“I need clothes, even back home I didn’t have much to my name and Nami promised to take me shopping when we found the next island” 

“Make sure you use your own money before the witch catches you in her interest trap.” Zoro warned. Just remembering his huge outstanding debt to her made him want to heave. 

“Interest trap? And don’t call her that, she isn’t a witch.” You lectured, you turned to face him completely moving your hands to sit on your hips. 

“Guys we’re almost there, Zoro can I talk to you?” Nami shouted out. Zoro rolled his eye before muttering a quick bye to you and leaving.

‘Small progress is better than no progress.’ You thought to yourself. You decided to head to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and caffeinate yourself. 

Zoro walked and stood in front of Nami. She looked at him briefly before turning her attention to the side of her jean pocket to pull something out. She then turned back, grabbing Zoro’s hand and dropping the item in his hand. Zoro looked down to see it was a sachet of berry. He frowned in confusion before looking back up at Nami.

“What’s this witch?” He questioned.

“That's something called money.” Nami sarcastically punctuated her words. Zoro rolled his eye, having no energy for her shit. 

“I know what it is…why are you giving this to me?” He bit back irritated with gritted teeth. 

“That is for you to spend on Y/N when you take her clothes shopping.”

“I’m not taking her shopping.” He scoffed. 

“Yes you are or I’m doubling your debt to me.” Nami threatened.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Because dumbass she deserves to be treated and since you clearly don’t have a romantic bone in your body, how great would it be for her HUSBAND to take her out to buy clothes?” Nami explained. 

Zoro was dumbfounded. 

‘Nami was willing to part with money… seriously what's the catch??’ He thought as he moved his eye from the berry to Nami with suspicion heavy in his gaze. 

Nami sighed before continuing. 

“She's been through enough, I know what happened isn’t your fault but I can see you care for her. Don’t pay me back for this.”

Zoro softened at Nami’s reasoning, his lips thinned before nodding. 

“And one more thing. This is not for booze. I will know if you spent it…” Nami warned, wagging her finger at him before walking away. Zoro stayed glued to his place, looking down to eye the bag for a bit. 

He sighed to himself, gently squeezing the bag in his hand a few times before safely putting it away in his sash. 

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

The Sunny had arrived and docked on the island. The weather could be described as perfect; sunny but with a gentle breeze that came at the right times. Luffy had jumped out of the ship, beelining through a dirt path that looked like it led into a town, Usopp was placed on Luffy patrol and ran after him. You heard some wacky stories from the others about Luffy’s knack for getting into trouble on islands he’s new to. 

Chopper, Robin and Sanji made their way to town at their own pace to restock the shop with food and medical supplies. Brook tagged along with Franky into town to get more hardwood for any future repairs. Jinbe was left to stay on the ship to watch for any danger. This left you, Zoro and Nami.

“Y/N, I would take you shopping but I’ve actually got to work on my maps and get some more ink and trinkets. I'm so sorry but I’ll definitely make it up to you another time.” Nami sadly spoke. You nodded in understanding but couldn’t help a small bloom of disappointment spread across your chest. 

“Make sure he doesn’t get lost. Have fun guys.” Nami winked at you before walking away, missing the fumes expelling from Zoro’s ears. You looked at him to see his annoyance, a wave of guilt filled you realising that he probably didn’t want to be stuck with you. 

“You don’t have to go shopping with me, I can help you find a bar to get hammered in.” You said, knowing how much he wanted to sit back and unwind. You didn’t want to get in his way or make it seem like you were being too clingy. He looked at you and could sense you were being earnest with your words. He felt the bag of berry in his sash burn into his skin before shaking his head in disagreement. 

“Let's go get you some new clothes.” He spoke, walking confidently in the wrong direction.You didn’t have time to laugh or smile before you were chasing after him, grabbing his forearm and pulling him into the direction of town. 

You both walked in comfortable silence, eventually reaching the quaint town to look around for a clothing boutique. You eventually found a boutique and pulled him into the store, a soft bell sound clicked as you opened and closed the door. The clerk welcomed you both in and left you to your own devices. You looked around taking in all the vibrant colours and styles of fabric that hung on each hanger, your smile only getting wider as you already spotted a few pieces you wanted to try on. 

You looked up at Zoro, giving him a ‘don’t go anywhere’ face before leaving him to explore the shop. Zoro turned to see a chair that had his name on it, making his way to sit and wait while you shopped. He decided to close his eye just for a few minutes, reasoning it was the bright lights of the shop that made it harder to keep them open. 

A few minutes became 20 minutes before he heard the sound of you clearing your throat. He opened his eye to find you wearing a mini white dress that was littered in small yellow daisies, it flowed out from the waist mid thigh and sat snuggled at your chest with a v-neck and thin straps. His eye travelled up to see the bright excited smile on your face as you stared at him, your hair flowing down over your shoulders only adding to his sudden rising heart rate and unconsciously holding his breath. 

It took everything in him not to stare, he couldn’t understand why you were making him so hot and bothered.

“So…what do you think?” You excitedly asked him.

The best thing he could do was offer a small nod of approval. You took that as a yes and went back to the fitting room to try on the next items. After closing the curtain of the changing room, Zoro breathed out the air he was holding, clutching his chest briefly to try and regain the tempo of his heart again.

The next few outfits you tried on accentuated your figure, from the pink long sleeved tops to the black mini skirts that showed off your curves. Zoro was suffering, his cheeks were painted pink for a while, you noticed this and asked him if he was alright. He blamed it on how hot the store was. At all the clothes you picked, he nodded at all but a bright yellow dress that reminded him too much of the shitty cooks hair. 

You eventually got changed back, taking the clothes and a couple pairs of shoes you wanted to buy and went to the counter. As Zoro noticed you pull out your wallet, he quickly stood up, almost tripping over his own foot and made his way to you. You looked at him quizzically before he pulled out a bag of berry from his sash and handed it to the clerk. 

“My treat.” He grumbled. Just for good measure on a whim, he snatched your wallet out of your hand and put it in his sash to stop you from trying to pay. Zoro also took the liberty of carrying your bags, you did try to argue about this but he ignored you instead. Accepting defeat, you both walked out of the boutique. 

You both ended up wandering around town in comfortable silence as before, taking small glances over at the swordsman with the bags in his hand. You couldn’t help but enjoy how domestic he looked while giving his normal ‘fuck off or I’ll kill you’ aura. 

You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift off down from his face to admire his chest that always seems to be exposed. It didn’t bother you per se but you couldn’t help but feel a bit green on the inside with jealousy at the thought of how many women could have thrown themselves at him while you weren’t around.

‘Did he sleep with anyone while he was away?’

Deciding against going down that thought path, you moved your eyes to focus back on your surroundings. You spotted a bar on the right, a small glint of mischief glazed your eyes before you cleared your throat to speak. 

“Since you kindly paid for my clothes…how about I treat you to a drink?” You questioned. 

Zoro looked over at you to see the smirk on your face, he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before nodding. You signaled your head to go in the right direction where the bar was. Shortly arriving, you both entered the bar and made your way to a small table in the corner. The bar was relatively buzzing with locals, the aura was bright compared to other bars you’d been to. It almost smelled…clean apart from the lingering smell of yeast that wafted in from the bar side.

Arriving at the table, Zoro bent to drop the bags off whilst tucking them under the table. Once finished, he stood up straight and turned to see you were standing next to him gazing up at him. He hadn’t noticed how small you looked compared to him until that moment seeing how much neck was bent back as you looked up at him. 

“Yes?” 

“My wallet?” You raised your brow smirking at him, bringing your hand up and out ready to take your wallet back from him. 

“Oh.” He sheepishly uttered out. He dug into his sash and pulled out your wallet. You gave a small nod as you took the wallet, relishing in the warmth of it. It took everything in you not to raise your wallet up to smell it as you secretly loved his natural scent. 

You headed to the bartender and put in an order for two bottles of sake, pulling out berry to pay for it. With your drinks secured, you headed back to the table to find Zoro comfortably sitting in his chair, slightly manspreading. He made the chair next to him look so inviting with him there but the way his legs parted made you feel more parched. You made it to the table, dropping the bottles carefully before taking your place next to him.

“Thanks Y/N.” He grunted out before making work by opening his bottle and drinking it straight from the bottle. After a few gulps and a sigh of satiation, you took a few sips from your bottle. You weren’t sure how but you both ended up engaged in conversation, both reminiscing on the people and life back in Shimotsuki Village. 

You couldn’t stop laughing at his story about this old lady who constantly tried to pinch his bum whenever he walked past her, tears forming in the corners. He also expressed shock and a few laughs when you indulged him in a memory of how you were dared by your friend Lily to walk in the local shop with a mask on and rap freestyle. He made you laugh when he told a terrible joke, the sound of your laughter bringing a sort of peace to him. He never wanted to see your smile fade. 

‘Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum.’

“Well hello pretty lady.” A voice interrupted causing you and Zoro to both look up. The smell hit you first, the clothes the guy was wearing reeked of alcohol. You did your best to shift yourself in your seat as far away from the guy as possible. It didn’t help as he just leaned closer in. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” The stranger offered, completely unaware of who he was potentially messing with. You looked at Zoro to see his demeanor darken, his gaze focused on the man in front of him and the grip on his bottle tighten.

“No thank you.” You politely declined. 

“Why not? I’m sure your bodyguard wouldn’t mind.” He insisted, his hand landed on your shoulder to give it a tight squeeze. The action caused Zoro to abruptly stand up and tower over the man. 

“If you don’t get your dirty hand off and back the fuck away from my wife right now, I’ll see to it that you lose your fingers.” Zoro threatened. The man took his hand off like you were on fire, gulping before quietly apologising and leaving with his tail tucked between his legs. You looked up at him in surprise, the anger continued exuding out of him. He hadn’t addressed you as his wife since the wedding. Zoro looked at you with equal shock at what he just said out loud. 

‘I called her my wife..’ 

“Zoro, it's okay. If he tried anything I would have kicked his ass.” You tried to change the subject to lighten the mood back, however, nothing was changing. Instead, Zoro gulped down the rest of his drink, then yours before reaching for the bags in one hand, then your wrist in another dragging you out the door. He didn’t say anything, you couldn’t bear to stop him even knowing he was going the wrong way in case he snapped. 

Some time had passed and you both ended up outside of town in a wooded area. 

“Zoro, can we stop? You’re hurting me.” You cautiously questioned, your wrist was feeling hot under his grip. Zoro had stopped at this, looked down at you and then let go on your wrist. He hadn’t noticed how tight he was gripping you, seeing a red outline of where his grip was woved around your wrist. He felt guilt wash over him.

In Zoro’s mind, all he could think about was snapping that guy's neck. The thought of anyone touching you the way that guy did made his blood boil. He knew had he not left, he would have caused trouble for you and the crew.

“Sorry.” He muttered. 

You now felt bad and decided to take his hand into yours and looked at him, using your thumb to slightly rub gently circles on his skin. 

“It's okay, I understand.” You meant every word. 

‘Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum.’ 

‘He really needed to get his heart checked out by Chopper.’ He thought as he looked back at you. 

“Let's get back to the ship.” You decided the best way back would be to summon a hole. You let go of his hand, walking towards an empty patch of grass you found before raising your hand, conjuring the memory of the deck while creating the hole. Once the hole had formed, you let your hand fall before you look over at Zoro and encourage him to jump in. 

Zoro nodded before he tightened his grip on the bags, walked up to the hole and jumped through. He felt somewhat light going through the hole. He guessed it was because of the clouds in the hole making it seem like he’s somewhat flying. It somewhat reminded him of being back on Skypiea. He landed on the deck, moving away from the hole to ensure you didn’t crash into him. You followed behind him a few seconds later. You reached your hand out to close the hole behind you. 

You walked up to Zoro and took the bags from him. 

“Thank you for taking me shopping, it was really sweet of you.” You smiled at him. 

About to turn away to walk towards your room, he reached out to grab your forearm. Puzzled at the sudden heat of his hand on your arm, you turned to see him as he looked at you with an unknown expression on his face you couldn’t decipher. 

“Everything okay?” You asked him. 

He didn’t know what took over him but he dragged you into him crushing you into a hug. The sudden tug made you drop your bags, your eyes bulged out in surprise as your cheek was now nestled into his chest. You could feel his heart beating strong and oddly fast, the familiar warmth seeping into your skin. It had been so long since he held you like this. 

You had to fight your tears back, you didn’t want to give yourself hope for nothing. 

He let you go after a few more seconds, wordlessly turning away from you to walk to the Crows Nest no doubt wanting to start training. All you could do was watch him and question his intentions behind the hug.  

Unbeknownst to you, something else was watching you from a distance.

————————————- ⚔️✨ ———————————— Fun fact: the shop incident actually happened to me and my best friend. We were 16 and she dared me to rap the rap from Scary Movie 1 with a ghost mask over my face. I did it and it got us banned from that shop ever since XD

#one piece fanfiction #memory loss #one piece #zoro x reader #slow burn #romance #roronoa zoro

[trafficlife]

And I Am Left Here Withering

"Can this day get any worse?" Joel had asked. The universe responded yes, three different times, each response more heartbreaking than the last. Joel would've preferred the universe proving him wrong.

word count: 1250 ao3 link

The first thing Joel heard was an explosion.

And his first instinct was to look up. Needless to say, he hadn’t completely moved on from Skynet and the TNT minecart traps. But no TNT could be spotted, thankfully. He didn’t think anybody would risk their hearts by creating a Skynet 3.0.

His second instinct was to assume that it was the Wither. If only he knew how badly that would come back to bite him later on.

His third instinct was to check his communicator, in case someone died. He didn’t see any lightning flash in the sky, which he thought was weird.

Joel pulled out his communicator, just in case he missed something, and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

For a moment, he thought he was experiencing déjà vu. He gritted his teeth and he tightened his grip on the communicator, nearly destroying it. Hot red blood pumped through his veins, speeding up his heart rate and he thought he was going to go snap. Joel behaved this way when Jimmy died first in Limited Life. When he had failed to sacrifice himself for him. But there were two major differences this time: 1) Joel wasn’t a red name (yet); and 2) it was Lizzie who died first.

He blinked rapidly. Once, twice, five times, because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He didn’t even see the death message in the chat. Does anybody even know what’s happened to her?

Joel sent a few messages, alerting everyone of Lizzie’s sudden departure. He was right: nobody knew what happened and responded with shock. Jimmy responded with happiness. 

Joel wanted to be angry at Jimmy’s inconsiderate response but he couldn’t be. For the first time since these games started, Jimmy wasn’t the first one out. He remembered the last game. Joel wanted to sacrifice himself for Jimmy, he wanted so badly to free him from that cycle. And he failed.

He failed and he went insane and it ended up being his downfall. 

Joel was happy for Jimmy, he really was. However, it was difficult to express his happiness considering the news he just received. 

He had a suspicion that Scott was somehow involved in Lizzie’s death and that just made him feel even worse. Because, like the idiot he was, Joel just had to send his wife to kill Scott. He didn’t see lightning in the sky, so she didn’t even die in the overworld.

He remembers Lizzie telling Joel that she’d lure Scott into the End and try to push him into the void. Now it only seemed reasonable to assume that Lizzie fell into the void instead. Joel would’ve felt better if Lizzie dragged Scott down with her.

So, Lizzie was dead, Jimmy was celebrating, and Joel was craving vengeance even more than before. Though he failed his task, he would kill Scott. He was only a yellow name for now. And, there was a somewhat bright side: the canary could finally escape the mines.

—----------------------------

Unfortunately, the canary could not escape a warden and a Wither. At the same place. At the exact same time.

Joel, trying to calm down after hearing about Lizzie’s death, was killing some zombies. Mainly for experience, but also because mobs were the only things Joel could legally kill. Then, a series of explosions and some muffled shouting could be heard on the surface. Now, this has to be the Wither, he thought. Secretly, Joel hoped he would be wrong. But when went up to the surface, he found that he was, unfortunately, 100% correct. A Wither was flying in the dark sky, hot on Scar’s heels and firing skulls at him. The fact that Scar was still alive and not taking any wither damage was pretty remarkable. If only he wasn’t luring the bloody Wither to Joel. 

So Joel had to run from Scar and the Wither, hoping they’d both leave him alone. As he ran, Joel wanted to say “could things get any more chaotic?”

And then he saw a warden chasing Etho.

Apparently, the universe felt “bad” for always proving Joel wrong so it wanted to prove him right for once. He’d rather be wrong for the rest of his life. 

He just wanted to breathe for a moment and collect himself. But obviously, the universe can’t let him catch a break. Lightning flashed in the sky and Joel felt his already-fracturing heart crumble into pieces. He didn’t want to check his communicator, he just didn’t want to because he didn’t know if he could handle the truth. He saw Tango pull out his communicator, shock written all over his face. And Joel just had to look over and see—

“JIMMY!” 

Once again, he felt his sanity slipping. He was already in a horrible state but to lose his wife and his best friend, barely ten minutes apart from each other… Joel wanted to curse this world and its twisted sense of humor. 

Tears stung Joel’s eyes and his breathing became more ragged. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening. He nearly fell to his knees in despair but he knew he had to keep running. And, as if the universe wasn’t already having a blast, Joel heard Grian scream.

“Mumbo, LEAVE!” Grian cried, followed by a flash of lightning and Grian screaming Mumbo’s name in distress.

If Joel had any sanity left in him, it had disintegrated the moment the second lightning bolt struck. The only reason why he was still keeping himself together was because he wasn’t red, and the bloodlust hadn’t kicked in. Never has he wanted to be red so badly, to hurt someone and get revenge and take out the rest of this bloody world. 

How could he lose three of the people he cared about in rapid succession? Lizzie died trying to kill Scott (the fact that Joel was responsible for it left a horrible taste in his mouth); Jimmy couldn’t run from the warden fast enough; and Joel barely even got to know Mumbo and he was already gone. They barely had any time to spend together because of the stupid task mechanics that separated the Mounders more than it brought them together.

He had surpassed his breaking point. He wasn’t even red but he tasted blood in his mouth and his heart was pounding in his ears. 

(Everyone he loved had withered away but Joel was still here. But he didn’t know if he wanted to be here.)

—----------------------------

The Wither was defeated but that didn’t mean shit to Joel. Not when it felt like he’d lost everything. 

Part of him wanted to wither away as well. But that would mean giving up. Joel was a lot of things but he sure as hell wasn’t a quitter. 

Skizz told Joel to win for Lizzie. Well, Joel was going to take it a few steps further and win for Lizzie, Jimmy, and Mumbo. He’d rise above this somehow. 

Exhausted and on the verge of tears, Joel walked back to his fairground, clutching a wither rose in his hand. He doesn't remember when or why he picked it up, but holding the stem gave him a little bit of stability. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding from the withering effect, the thorns in the rose, or from his nails digging into his palms but it didn’t bother him. He had more important things to worry about, such as finding a way to kill Scott.

In the end, the florist could only send regards to himself. 

#꒰☆彡꒱— karma speaks #꒰➳꒱— writings #secret life spoilers #secret life #trafficblr #trafficsmp #life series smp #secret life fanfic #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #(others are mentioned but i wont tag them here) #so... session 6 was something wasnt it? #(title from unraveling by the crane wives) #i was thinking how much the song fitted joel in this session + how he responded to the deaths

[commander-krios]

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” for revan and canderous? :D

I... I finished it?? OMG I did it! I hope this was worth the wait, I'm so sorry this took so long. Warnings for graphic violence and descriptions of death/corpses.

Read on AO3

“We need to talk.”

Closing her eyes, Yuehai breathed in through her nose, trying her hardest not to give in to the anger that swelled in her chest. The coarse red dirt of Korriban stained her feet, dirtied her robes, burned her skin as she knelt to retrieve the stone urn half buried. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Gravel crunched beneath Canderous’ boots as he stepped closer, his shadow dwarfing her as she pried the urn from the ground. The HK droid had walked off to patrol a few minutes before, leaving the two of them in the heated silence. The Mandalorian hadn’t said a word during most of their trek through the tombs or the caves, but now, when they were so close to getting off this dreadful rock, he had to open his mouth.

“Revan-”

With a hiss, she glared up at him, furious at the use of a name that died with her past. “Don’t call me that.”

Those grey eyes she swore didn’t haunt her dreams slanted in her direction. The unforgiving sun left his skin burned as he stood there, but not once did he complain of the pain. Stubborn to the end. Something they had in common, at least.

One of many things, her mind taunted, dark whispers fading as his gaze brought her back to the conversation. It was a strange thing, to feel desire for a man that she might’ve killed in another life. To think that one look into his eyes kept her from falling to the dark again.

“Revan is a part of who you are, even if you’re ashamed of it.”

“You think I’m ashamed of who I am? Who I was?” She stood, shaking some of the dirt out of those hideous black robes the Academy gave their students. “You know nothing about me.”

“That’s a lie.” Canderous crossed his arms over his chest, not backing down even as her fingers flexed, tempted to strangle him where he stood. “We are the same. Even you can’t deny that.”

No, she couldn’t. 

And that was part of the problem when it came to this thing between her and Canderous. They were warriors, scarred by blade and hands stained with blood, capable of both terrible destruction and great deeds. Their lives were built on war, sustained by death, only to fall at the height of their power.

Whenever she looked at him, she saw the past. 

Canderous stepped closer, the space between them thinning to nothing. The sweet pungent scent of sweat mixed with the rusty smell of dirt, turned red by years of blood seeping into the ground. When he reached out with a steady hand to brush his fingers over her dark hair, she dropped her gaze to a scar on his neck, jagged, white, and she wondered, not for the first time, where he’d gotten it. His rough fingers brushed her cheek and she couldn’t stop the immediate reaction to his touch, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand, wanting to feel more of his strength.

“Look me in the eyes.” He commanded, refusing to back down when she did without argument, his eyes like molten metal, no light in their depths, only darkness. “Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the pull that’s between us. Tell me to leave you alone and I will.”

That was just it. She couldn’t do any of those things. Because no matter how much she wanted to deny this old bastard the satisfaction of being correct in at least one thing since he joined her crew, Yuehai knew she’d never speak those words. Because they were lies. 

And Revan was many things, but a liar, she was not.

The telltale feel of the dark side washed over her suddenly, skin prickling uncomfortably, the hair on her arms rising before three Dark Jedi appeared in the distance over Canderous’s shoulder. They strolled casually down the hill to where they’d been secreted away, red lightsabers glowing bright even against the bloody sands of Korriban.

“I almost feel guilty for interrupting such a lovely moment.” Heavy sarcasm laced every word, not a trace of sincerity in the voice that spoke from beneath the dark hood.

Not that she’d expected any.

Yuehai couldn’t see their faces, but she could see the pale skin and black veins that were common in dark side corruption. She sighed, stepping around Canderous at the same time he turned, her sabers in her hands without hesitation. “More of you? Didn't you have enough of getting your asses kicked on Tatooine and the Leviathan?”

One of them hissed at her, spitting curses before stepping forward, as if he could strike fear in the heart of the woman who had destroyed the Mandalorians and destroyed the Jedi. “You are nothing without your Jedi, traitor. With her battle meditation, the Republic will lie before our feet, nothing more than burned rubble and broken bodies.”

She eyed the Sith’s form, making a mental note of how he favored his left leg: an old injury or perhaps he was tortured as punishment for a failure. The cause did not matter when she could benefit from the weakness. “Your master is the traitor and I will see him kneeling at my feet before I end his life.”

A crimson lightsaber slashed through the air, a wide arcing swing that was full of rage and little control. Yuehai lifted her hand in a single fluid motion, the blue lightsaber in her left hand blocking the first swing while the one in her right, one that glowed with an amethyst crystal, found its home in the Sith’s chest. With a downward thrust, she cleaved him in two, leaving a smoking mass of flesh where a person had stood a moment before.

The Sith that had spoken howled in fury, stepping forward with a raised hand, electricity crackling at his fingertips. Blocking with one of her sabers would only work a few times before the lightning overpowered her, but she didn’t need much time to close the distance.

If she was truly Darth Revan, she doubted any of these Sith had the power to kill her. They were nothing more than ants to crush beneath her boot.

Canderous opened fire, his repeater leaving multiple smoking holes in the Sith furthest away. The scent of burning flesh assaulted her nose only briefly before Yuehai used her connection on the force to leap into the air, lightsabers posed to strike. The Sith got his saber up in time to block the attack, but she didn’t let up, slashing and pushing the Sith back until he was practically pressed against a outcropping of stone, nowhere left to go. 

The electricity built to a maelstrom beneath his skin. Shadowy whispers of imminent danger tickled at the back of her mind but she ignored the warnings, striking out with her right saber. It met the Sith’s in a shower of red and purple sparks, the blades hissing as they made contact. She pushed as hard as she could towards his left side, the weight of her form pressing against him, her muscles straining beneath thick, itchy robes. The Sith tried to pivot the sudden movement, but his weakened leg almost buckled under their combined weight.

She saw the terror flash in his gaze when he looked at her, blue eyes turned hazy, yellow, a mark of the Sith. There was no doubt that he’d killed innocents, done evil in a galaxy that had suffered enough. Here, in the sandy wasteland of Korriban, under the shade of tombs of greater Sith, this man would die and Yuehai felt not a fraction of pity for him.

He hesitated to release his hold on the lightning with her body so close. If he did so, he’d be caught in the crossfire, frying him as well as himself. As he fought against being overpowered, Yuehai spun her second lightsaber, severing his hand from the rest of his body.

He screamed as the stump smoked, blood sizzling as the wound cauterized, and Yuehai stepped out of the way so Canderous had the perfect shot. It was over within seconds, the Sith all dead at her feet, her breath coming in puffs, her lungs burning from the exertion. When she turned to face the Mandalorian again, her hair fell into her eyes, obscuring his image slightly. 

Nothing could hide the flash of his eyes as he watched her across the battlefield. After a moment, the tension eased, and he slung the repeater across his shoulder before crossing the distance between them with purposeful strides.

“Don’t-” She warned him, lightsabers still hanging at her sides, the heat felt through her clothing even with the brutal Korriban sun beating down on her. She didn’t know if she intended to use her weapons or not, but all thought fled her mind when he pressed her against the stone at her back.

He was pigheaded, impossible, irritating, and one of the most stubborn bastards she’d ever met and yet, when he slipped his strong hands around her waist, his hot mouth against her own, she knew that she was lost. The kiss was hasty, intense, leaving every part of her burning, the desire for more lingering when he pulled back.

“You are the greatest warrior I have fought against, Revan.” He told her with a conviction that almost had her heart singing in her chest. Yuehai knew what the feeling was even if she couldn’t remember ever feeling it before. It terrified her. “And the greatest warrior I have ever fought beside. I will continue fighting at your side until you have no more use for me.”

With a groan, she shut off her lightsabers, clipping them to her belt once more. Damn him. “Stubborn bastard. This misplaced devotion of yours is going to get you killed one day.”

The smallest of grins crossed his lips, fleeting, brief, disappearing as quickly as it’d appeared. So quick it was that she thought she might’ve imagined it. “Dying in battle, with or against you, would be an honor.”

It almost sounded like he was teasing her.

“Will it be such an honor when I suffocate you in your sleep?” Squinting up at him, she tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but she saw the quirk of his eyebrow at her words.

The whir of machinery broke the silence that fell, the familiar sight of HK-47 returning from his patrol. At the sight of the bodies scattered around them, the assassin droid pivoted towards her almost offended. “Statement: Master! You killed meatbags without me. Query: How could you?”

Yuehai bit her lip, trying not to laugh at how human he almost sounded and instead, tucked her hand into Canderous’, enjoying the rough calloused skin against her own. They still needed to find the Star Map, but they were so close, Bastila’s rescue nearly at hand. Then… maybe then the future might actually be a possibility.

#my writing #kotor #kotor fanfiction #star wars #star wars: knights of the old republic #knights of the old republic #darth revan #revan #canderous ordo #hk 47 #revanderous #revan x canderous #yuehai xun #violence #death #graphic violence

[bagely]

HI! this is a translation of a fanfic I already published in AO3 but, I'm trying to prove myself and write in english, Soo yeah my first lenguaje it's not english is Spanish and because of that this work would have some mistakes 😬 sorry for that I do my best but I'm still just learning, so you can correct me, I would appreciate that.

Oh, and its in Missa's pov

Title: Can I have your number?

Words: 2,009

Ao3 link:

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

I walked through the door of the small university café, feeling the warm aroma of coffee fill my senses.

The barista, whose name is Starboby, was very welcoming, and there was nothing strange about her until I saw the bar where someone was preparing coffee with their back turned. I didn't recognize that haircut or the same tone, and I could say that with certainty since I had worked part-time at this place many times before.

«It seems like Roier has hired someone new» I thought, as I didn't recognize any of Roier's blonde friends. There weren't many people in the place, it was still very early. I adjusted my hair, which was longer than usual and a bit uncomfortable.

I walked confidently to the bar, and the barista turned around when she heard my steps and stood in front of me, several meters away. I stopped instantly.

"Oh, I didn't hear you," he said with a warm and cheerful voice while smiling at me. "Do you need anything?"

He was gathering some hair into a ponytail, and her deep blue eyes stirred something within me.

«WHY IS HE SO HANDSOME» I started feeling my heart stop or perhaps start beating so fast that I couldn't measure it myself.

"Uhm... I...just–" I was trying to forced myself to talk. I took a step back and said, "uh... I forgot something... I, uhm... goodbye"

Did I run away or walk very fast? I don't know, the point is that I was already two blocks away from that café. I slap myself.

«Missa, why do you always embarrass yourself? Fool, idiot, idiot...» I wanted to hit myself harder.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A few days had passed, and I had "forgotten" (or rather ignored to maintain my sanity) that encounter at the café.

Rivers, a classmate, ask me if we want to do some homework together, and since my house was a mess due to my lack of organization, she decided it would be better to go to Starboby, Roier's café at the university. And here I am again, and he is here.

If someone asked me to organize the 5 most embarrassing moments of my life, what happened in this café a few days ago would occupy the top 5 places.

I'm behind my computer while looking at him, hoping he doesn't notice. After half an hour in the place, I only know one thing about him, and that is his name, which is Philza, and I only know that because I noticed the shiny name tag that I didn't see on my first visit.

I want to ask for his number... I would love to be able to get up and approach him, act like a normal person, and just talk to him, but at this point, I'm sure he thinks I'm a weirdo. I am a weirdo, but I don't like to think that he knows it.

"You could ask Roier for his number," Rivers brought one of her pens to my face and started poking my cheek with it insistently.

"And seem like a stalker? No, thanks," I replied in a somewhat annoyed tone because of what she was doing to my face, but I couldn't complain much anyway since I'm a bit behind on our task.

"Sure, you don't want to seem weird to your boyfriend," she started sarcastically, and she moved away from me in her chair while rolling her eyes. "Okay, be subtle and keep staring at him like a crow."

"I'm not...–" I don't even know what I was about to say because my mind freeze when my eyes were caught by his.

«Did he notice?» I felt a bit scared, I immediately looked away, but I heard a slight laugh coming from him. «he got me.» my face is completely red. I couldn't look in his direction for the rest of the afternoon, which was beneficial for Rivers since we were able to finish some work in one day and organize the ones we have left.

I started packing up my things to leave the café, and I felt someone behind me. My body tensed up when I turned around and saw him there. Time felt slow as he handed me a piece of paper. «His number?» That thought made me blush again until I looked down to see the piece of paper he had given me.

"Thank you for coming," he smiled at me, well, at us, Rivers is still here saddly "Again."

I'm sure that last part is for me, but he only gave me a receipt, just a receipt.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Today the café is a bit more crowded, it's rush hour, so I should have expected it. The line is at least 10 people long, and when it's my turn, I find myself too excited. I'm at the front, and I see him. He smiles at me but turns and moves away behind a door to the back. I'm late.

"Missa, what's up?" Roier is now at the bar, smiling at me as if he had just heard the best joke in the world. "Have you seen my new barista?" The look Roier gave me was so indiscreet that I almost hit him, it's obvious that Rivers told him everything.

I restrain any aggressive impulse that grows within me because if I expose myself more than I already am, I'm sure he won't leave me alone.

"Cold coffee, and remember to sweeten it well... You always make it a bit bitter," I tell him, completely avoiding the topic.

He laughs and turns around to start doing what I asked. I lower my head to the counter where the desserts are, I only came to the place for coffee and to see Phil, but it wouldn't hurt to have a donut anyway, one of the things I wanted to see wasn't there, I need a consolation prize.

"Are you ordering something?" That voice makes my heart skip a beat, and it makes me lift my head to see Philza on the other side of the bar with his ever-present kind and reassuring smile. I could die at that moment and be satisfied. "Didn't he finish his shift? Oh, it doesn't matter, my prayers were answered," I say.

"Yes," I say, perhaps a bit too loud.

"Phil! I see you've met Missa," Roier's joyful voice also stirs my guts, but in an unpleasant way, as I'm sure of what's coming.

"Oh, yeah, I've talked to him before," Philza replied, nodding.

I'm not saying anything, and it's awkward because this conversation is about me, but I can't do it, everything in me prevents me from commenting on what's happening.

"You need to treat him well" Roier speaks again, and I have the urge to run away from there, again. "He's not new here, he's one of our most loyal part-timers. A VIP customer," Roier says.

"Roier, no, don't exaggerate," I finally speak, looking into the brown eyes and begging him with my eyes to shut up for once.

"I see," Philza laughs, I notice how easy it seems to make that man laugh, which defensively doesn't bother me, I would love to hear that laughter for longer. I look at him again, and he returns the gaze. "I'll take good care of him then."

If he continues to be like that, I'll probably have a heart attack and die.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

It's almost the end of autumn, which means it's been a month since I met Philza, and I still haven't asked for his number. But I'm making progress, I'm at the point where I can say a complete sentence without stuttering. Anyway, I'm sure he thinks I'm weird because that's the only part of my personality that I've shown him throughout this month.

I'm at the café again, but I'm smart and learn from my mistakes. I don't go to the café during hours when I'm sure Roier will be there. I made that mistake twice, the last time was last week, and the man managed to embarrass me by telling Phil about all my mistakes when I was a rookie.

I'm not hiding behind my laptop this time; I'm "reading" a book. I read on the internet that people who look intelligent are more attractive, and I must use everything I can to my advantage.

Although I haven't talked to him much, I now know a few more things about Phil than just his name. For example, he's 25 years old, which means he's only three years older than me, and apparently, he knows Roier from his boyfriend, and knowing Cellbit's great social skills, he's probably a classmate or a fellow student.

Among the little things I know, I also managed to ask him if he's dating someone in the most discreet way possible, which means I told Rivers to ask him, and I was next to her to listen, and miraculously, the answer was no. I had never felt luckier in my life. I think I almost screamed when I found out, almost because I managed to maintain my composure as much as I could.

"Are you going to order something?" His voice, his terribly charming voice, snapped me out of my thoughts. I didn't realize when he had approached me, placing his hand on the table in front of me.

«Your number» I didn't say it. I wish I had said it. Damn it.

"I'm... I'm fine, you know, just chill.. yeah.." I said, and I'm sure that every word coming out of my mouth It's getting worse and worse.

"Right " He said, and I felt something strange inside me when he sighed after speaking.

Phil seems very committed to his work, he always comes to ask me if I need anything, even if there are several people around. It's very admirable.

He's about to lift his hand from the table and walk away, but I don't want him to. There's no one else here, and a force that I hadn't felt all month pulls my hand, tugging at the sleeve of his white shirt, back to the table.

I turn to look at him, and that momentary force leaves my body.

"Yes?" He asks with a lopsided smile that suits him torturously well.

My eyes sink to the ground. I can only see his shoes and mine.

"Uh could you...uhm" I'm sure I must look like an elf, with my ears burning from the amount of embarrassment I feel. "Can I have your number?" Somehow, that sentence came out in full.

"I already gave it to you."

"WHAT?" I shout. Because there's no other way to express what was going through my head at that moment. I'm trying and searching through hundreds of memories if that ever happened and I have nothing...

"You threw it in the trash, I thought you had rejected me and now you were just giving me confusing signals." Well, with that, I raised my head, he still looked calm, only with a hint of blush almost imperceptible on his cheeks.

"Who was giving confusing signals to who?" My brain was melted, or maybe I was swapped in the middle of the night into someone else's life because all those things he says don't make sense. "Me rejecting you? I'm not insane."

He laughs, and I feel the atmosphere lighten. "Well, you did it." He speaks through clenched teeth, holding back laughter. "When you were with your friend, I gave it to you on the back of the receipt and you threw it in the trash."

«Idiot, idiot, idiot, WHY DIDN'T I SEE THE BACK?»

"I... I didn't see it." His hand goes to my cheek, and his face begins to approach.

«Am I dreaming?» I'm completely paralyzed.

He lightly taps his forehead against mine and then takes a few steps back, but I stand up so we're still close. He takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine.

"Dumb" He says to me in that charming tone of voice that I'm sure I'll never get tired of.

#deathduo #qsmp #qsmp missa #qsmp philza

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 32/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

If he closes his eyes and breathes her in deep, he can almost picture it. The two of them, before all of this, lounging on a lazy Sunday morning. He’d read the comics while she scoured the classifieds, always saving the crossword to do together.

The moment his lips touched hers, he knew that everything she’s been telling him is true. The searching, restless, unsatisfied feeling that has been rattling around in his bones for months dissipated like sugar into water, and he was home. She returns to him in little flashes, in saturated bursts of pure emotion set off by the quirk of her mouth or the smell of her skin. She laughs and his heart swells, or she clucks her tongue at him and a strange kind of embarrassment settles in his belly. The memories themselves must still be buried somewhere in the depth of his mind, and he can only hope to follow the trail of breadcrumbs left by his senses back to a place where he knows why the affectionate roll of her eyes makes him feel like he’s walking on air.

He tries not to think about Diana, but it’s difficult with as many times as her signature appears on the documents in both their files. Each new revelation regarding the myriad ways she deceived him brings up a nauseating mix of rage, grief, and disgust, and he can only come to the conclusion that she never loved him at all.

And what of his parents? Since Scully removed his chip the vast majority of his life is a black hole, and the man he had understood to be his father less than 48 hours ago feels like a perfect stranger. When he realizes that he cannot remember Samantha at all, it seems as though Scully is all he has left.

There’s a part of him that fears he’s being manipulated by her just as he was manipulated by Diana, but one look at her sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch, flipping through pages with her brow furrowed in concentration, and he knows it isn’t true. Even if he doesn’t have any recollection of how they met or the first time they kissed, couldn’t say which side of the bed is hers or how long she takes to get ready in the morning, he knows that they belong to one another. He feels it, as natural as the beating of his own heart.

She looks up and catches him staring, and he smiles in embarrassment.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks, glancing over the document that he’s supposed to be reading instead of gazing at her. They’ve spent the better part of the afternoon carefully reviewing the jumbled mess of paperwork, looking for patterns or clues.

“Does the name ‘Walter Skinner’ ring any bells for you?” she asks, shifting her body so that she’s sitting sideways, facing him. “I see the name mentioned frequently in both of our files and it feels familiar, but I haven’t been able to place it.”

He does feel a spark of recognition, which surprises him.

“I think I have heard that name, but I can’t remember where,” he says thoughtfully.

“It has the initials ‘A.D.’ ahead of his name in some places,” she adds.

“Assistant Director,” he says, and her eyebrows lift in surprise. “At the FBI. He works there. I met him the other day, actually.”

“According to this you met him years ago,” she corrects, tracing her finger down the page. “There’s a memory here from 1991 with his name on it.”

“You must know him as well—but you don’t remember?” he asks, laying his palm over her bare kneecap.

She glances at his hand and then back to the document, shaking her head.

“Maybe if I saw a picture.” She closes the file and tosses it onto the coffee table, then rests her elbow on the back of the couch and props her head up on her fist. She gives him an appraising look, and it sets off what can only be described as adolescent butterflies in his belly. She makes him concurrently nervous and exhilarated, and that’s not to mention the effect she has on him below the belt. “How are you feeling?” she asks, very sweetly, and the urge to kiss her is overwhelming, but at the same time that this feels easy and natural, it also feels new.

“Really good, actually,” he says. “If I close my eyes, I can almost convince myself that my entire life isn’t in shambles.”

She pushes her mouth into a sympathetic smile.

“I can relate,” she agrees. Her smile slowly falls, a pensive expression taking its place. “Were you happy? With Diana, I mean.”

Mulder heaves a sigh, then drops his head against the back of the couch and rubs his hands over his face.

“No,” he says, sitting back up. “Even before I ran into you at the coffee shop I was looking for a way out. I was actually in Baltimore for a job interview that day, which I kept a secret from Diana.”

“Oh?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “Why’s that?”

Mulder considers this for a moment. He thinks about the argument he and Diana had when she found the parking ticket in his car, and realizes that she likely knew his whereabouts regardless of that slip-up. He remembers the way she used his alleged infidelity against him, and he feels a surge of anger. With his chip gone, he can’t even remember what Macy looked like.

“It’s difficult to remember now what I was thinking at the time, but looking back I see that she was trying to keep me under her thumb. I think she believed that she’d set up the perfect life for me and that I’d be content by default, but that wasn’t the case. I knew she’d be mad if I told her about the interview, but I didn’t understand why. Now I do.”

Scully nods, then looks off into the distance for a moment, contemplating. He takes the opportunity to look at her face, which is bare. She has cinnamon freckles dusted all across her cheeks, and a mole above her lip that looks like a little fleck of chocolate. Without thinking, he leans forward and presses his lips to it, and Scully startles but doesn’t pull away. He feels her mouth stretch into a smile and he kisses one of her cheeks, and then the other, and then the tip of her nose. Her eyes are closed so he continues, kissing each of her eyelids and then her forehead, and finally her mouth.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs against her lips, not breaking away.

She hums her approval and he keeps kissing her, somewhat chastely, until she sighs contentedly. He pulls away just enough to meet her eyes, noting for the first time the hazel ring around her pupils.

“Seemed like the thing to do,” he says, slightly sheepish, and she touches his cheek, a wistful expression on her face.

“I don’t want to rush you, Mulder,” she says softly. “And I imagine that your feelings about Diana are complicated. But I—” She pauses and swallows. “I’ve missed you so much. More than you could possibly understand. You don’t need to worry about coming on too strong. If anything, I should be worried about overwhelming you.”

“I’m not overwhelmed by you,” he insists, scooting closer. “And you’re right that my feelings about Diana are complicated, but not in the way you think. Whatever she and I had, and whatever she tried to make me believe we still have, I’ve never felt…this, with her.” He holds the back of her hand against his cheek and closes his eyes. “She took this from me,” he says, his voice tight.

“She took it from us,” Scully whispers back, and he opens his eyes.

“But you found me,” he says proudly, and she gives him a watery smile.

He carries her to the bedroom before they make love for the second time, transporting himself back to the life he lost by way of her thighs wrapped tightly around his hips and her breath hot on his ear. Afterward they shower, eat, and read. They talk and talk and talk and talk. She stretches out on the couch with her feet in his lap as they float between past and future, pausing now and then to bask in the delicious present.

“What are we gonna do, Mulder?” she says, her eyes roving over the haphazard stacks of paper that litter every available surface and a good portion of the floor. “I feel at a loss.”

Mulder heaves a blustering breath and slowly shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe I would have known before, but now…”

Scully nods absently, her mind clearly wandering.

“You would have wanted justice,” she says. “You wouldn’t have wanted them to get away with this.”

“And what about you?” he asks. “What would you have wanted?”

She considers him for a moment.

“I think…I think I just want to get as far away from all of this as possible,” she says, slipping into present tense. “But if it’s important to you that we take action against those who did this to us, I won’t let you do it alone.”

He finds her expression difficult to read, but he intuits that she doesn’t want to disappoint him. Truthfully, there is a big part of him that wants Diana, his parents, and whomever else had a hand in this to be held accountable. But there’s an even bigger part of him that wants to stash Scully away in some unreachable corner of the world and never let her out of his sight again.

“It’s not important enough to risk losing you again,” he says resolutely, and he sees her entire body relax.

They call the Gunmen to deliver the news and ask them to start making plans. They’ll need new names, safe transport to wherever it is that they’ll call home, and enough money to put their roots down. At Scully’s insistence, Mulder asks about the possibility of bringing Frenchie along, and Frohike promises to try. By the time they hang up they’re giddy with excitement and hope.

“Did we live together before?” Mulder asks. They’re side by side at the kitchen counter, slicing vegetables for the salad Scully is preparing for their dinner.

Scully pauses and her eyes drift up to the ceiling for a moment.

“I don’t think so,” she says after some consideration. “I’m not sure if it was that…serious.”

“Hm,” he says, and she turns and lifts her eyebrows at him. “Feels pretty serious,” he adds, and she smiles shyly. Slowly, her eyes lose focus and her smile fades. “Hey,” he says, bumping her with his shoulder, “where’d you go?”

“I was just thinking about Cal and the kids,” she says, turning back to the salad. She swallows and takes a deep breath before she speaks again. “I hate the idea that they’ll think I abandoned them.”

He wants to ask her what it was like with Cal. He wonders whether they were intimate. But it’s really none of his business, and he’d be a hypocrite to be jealous. It makes him sick to think back on the sex he had with Diana, and the way she used him like a toy. If Cal was good to her, that’s all that matters. He tries not to think about the rest.

“Maybe we can send for them later when we’re settled,” he suggests, and she looks over at him hopefully.

“Really?” she asks, a cautious smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Wouldn’t that be…weird?”

Mulder looks around the apartment at the chaotic mess of paperwork and then levels her with a deadpan expression.

“I’d say we’ve about maxed out on weird, G-woman.”

Scully gets a far away look on her face. “G-woman,” she whispers, and then a slow grin stretches across her mouth that he can’t help but return.

He doesn’t know why he said it, but it felt good, and the look on her face tells him that it made her feel good too. He abandons the tomato he was slicing, presses her up against the counter, and kisses her thoroughly. They’ll get to know one another all over again, combining their existing memories to fill out the past while the future unfolds in real time. Maybe that future will include Cal and the children that Scully has grown attached to, and maybe not. As long as she is there, it’s a future he wants to be a part of.

It’s well after midnight when they crawl into bed, exhausted but wired. Scully moves to nestle against his side but he turns to face her, wedging his leg between her thighs and slipping one hand down the back of her shorts to touch her bare ass. She laughs softly and kisses his sternum.

“You’re a bit insatiable,” she teases, “not that I’m complaining.”

He feels himself blushing, but resists the urge to pull away.

“I just love touching you,” he says shyly. “The feeling…it’s the closest thing to remembering, I think. At least for now. If it’s too much, just tell me.”

“It’s not too much, Mulder,” she murmurs sleepily. “I like it.”

They are quiet for a time, and he feels her fingers bump up against his neck before she begins running them through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. It’s pure heaven, and he groans in satisfaction.

“That feel good?” she asks, and he hums a yes.

Suddenly she’s sitting up, and he lifts his head, alarmed.

“Lie back,” she says, pushing on his shoulder. He rolls to his back and she hovers over him, half her weight resting on his belly and chest.

She resumes playing with his hair, and then he feels the wet heat of her mouth on his neck. She drops kisses down to his shoulder, then back up to his ear. Every place she touches him feels like a supernova of pleasure, and he is immediately hard as a rock. She scrapes her teeth over his earlobe and then whispers, “How does that feel?” sending shivers down his spine.

“Good,” he rasps, but she’s already moved on.

She kisses a constellation across his chest, flicking her tongue against his hardened nipples while slowly slipping her hand under the waist of his boxers. She bypasses his erection completely, instead dragging her fingernails lightly across his scrotum. He gasps as he feels the skin pucker under her touch.

“How’s that?” she asks, her voice rough and sultry.

A low groan is all he can manage in response.

She touches him so tenderly, so expertly, running her palm up his shaft and brushing her thumb across the head. She knows him, knows his body, and he feels so safe with her it makes his chest ache. It makes all the terrible parts more bearable, just knowing that she is by his side. And when she climbs on top of him and confidently guides him inside her, nothing else matters. Just this. Just them.

She’s beautifully bathed in moonlight, her hips undulating like cresting waves. He’s confident that he will never forget this.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXI

Celestia has a cruel sense of humor. He’s always known this, ever since his days as a student. But a soulmate? Really? Dottore/Female Reader Soulmate AU. Lore speculation, interpretations, etc. AO3 Chapter is Here.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t meet this way.”

The stranger was a small child and her legs dangled from the piano bench.  She looked out of place, lost, too full of life for this space.  And yet, despite her appearance, she had the gaze you only saw from those with long lives who had stories upon stories to tell.  She shook her head as she continued.

“In fact, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to meet at all.  But to say more beyond that would put you in grave danger, both from myself and your own circumstances.  Please forgive me for being obtuse.”

“Then why are you here?” You asked, looking out into the hallway, towards the direction you just came from.

Empty.  Zandik would likely be a while longer and sound didn’t carry down several flights of stairs.  But sometimes he had such a keen sense when something was amiss…as though he could always see you…or at least sense you.

Better to get what answers you could.  You knew this game well enough.  You turned your attention back to the young girl.  The rooms in your private quarters were decorated long before you arrived, dark wood and dark colors with gold accents that made the stranger stand out like a fresh sprout in a dull field.

“No, better question: who are you?” you rephrased.

“You can call me Nahida.  I cannot stay long, not without consequence.  And I believe I would be correct in surmising that you also know that something about this,” the little radish, for you couldn’t help but see her as one, raised her arms and gestured to the room, “is not as it seems.”

Such was the life of a Harbinger’s partner, you wanted to counter.  But the argument never made it to your lips.  You didn’t quite believe it would matter.

“Subtle hints are all I can offer; anything else will cause destabilization.  And my own presence is already spread too thin.  But the Outcast’s soulmate…was someone I had to meet for myself when I realized who you were.”

There it was again, that word.  You’d heard it whispered in the hall of the Akademiya when you first truly laid eyes on your soulmate, on the one who called himself The Doctor.  He must have done something truly horrific to warrant such a name from both the student body and the Sages themselves.  But the child in front of you was neither, that much you could guess.  Your expression shifted and the hairs on the back of your neck rose.

“Don’t call him that,” you spat.

“The two of you are…two sides of the same coin…passionate, dedicated to your work, but you are grounded in your humanity, your emotion, whereas his pursuit of knowledge has no limitations…someone like him would be innately fascinated by such a connection…especially his unique, if understandable, perspective on the Divine…”

Nahida hopped down from the piano bench and crossed her arms.  

This had never happened before.  No one ever managed to get past the security in place in this particular section of the Palace.  There were a few exceptions, of course, but Zandik wouldn’t make one for a tiny child who looked like a newborn tree.  

“Your analysis is poignant but I do not understand, exactly, what it is you’re doing here,” you said.  “I don’t think a child would have managed to slip past the guards, let alone figure out the security system that—”

“What do you call him?” Nahida asked suddenly.  “The Outcast goes by a different name according to you, otherwise the title would not make you so uncomfortable.”

The answer was immediate, your heart providing it for you.

“Zandik.  To me, he is Zandik.”

The name was enough to make the child pause and look at you again, her gaze seeing through you.  No way was she only a mere child.  Children were observant, far smarter than they were ever given credit for, but there was weight to her line of sight, a levity that…

“I see.  And does he remind you of the Zandik of your dreams?  The one you first met?”

You were taken aback, your heart skipping for a moment.  What kind of question was that?  If the mention of his moniker wasn’t bad enough, this child was now questioning you and your perception.

You knew who, precisely, your soulmate was.  The man down in the workshop could be no one else except for Zandik.  You’d spent more than half of your life dreaming of him, dreaming with him, through all of the good and the bad that you’d experienced over the course of your lives.

He’d never told you how he became the Outcast; conversely, you never told him the extent of your suffering at the hands of your patron.  Barriers neither of you touched.

You glared at her, no longer caring whether she was a curious child or something, someone, else.  So many years were spent questioning others’ actions and words, second-guessing yourself at every turn.  Not again.

“Consider it,” Nahida said.  “That is all I ask.  Look again.  When we remember events, we’re really remembering the last time we thought of them.  Distortions happen over time, our minds filling in gaps to make sense of what, at the time, did not.”

You heard your name from down the hall, a joyous song full of teasing promise.  He was finished for the night.  He was all yours.  

Your head jolted towards the direction of the sound but when you turned your head back towards the piano, the bright sprout was gone, no trace of its presence.  You could have dreamt the entire interaction but your chest tightened at that notion as you doubted yourself.  No.  She wasn’t a hallucination.  You were exhausted but you never…

A hand pressed against the small of your back and you jolted, torn from your thoughts.  Familiar colors and details came into view, gray pants, pinstripe waistcoat, exposed collarbone, aquamarine hair and crimson eyes as deep as the wine you would serve with dinner.  Zandik’s mouth was dipped into a pout, concern etched into his brow.  Worry looked too much like he was trying to solve a problem as of late.

“Noor ‘eini, you shouldn’t hide things from me,” his other hand brushed hair away from your forehead.  “I know when you aren’t feeling alright.  Overworking yourself isn’t the solution.”

“Says the man who spends days in his lab without sleep.”

“Touche,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, his touch lingering.  “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You felt yourself melt into the touch, too exhausted to provide a sharp comeback.  So much to do.  At least ten pages still needed to be inked and finalized.  The very notion made your mind protest and you felt yourself being directed away from your music room and towards the bedroom, urging you to take a break.

“You can go back to it after you’ve given your eyes and hands a break,” Zandik compromised.  “But for now…”

You felt soft covers and cool sheets, warmth that was more than just your own, your body craving everything.

All of this…

All of this felt right.

He was Zandik.  Your Zandik.

Nothing was out of place.

Nothing.

#fic: dream a little dream of me #dottore #il dottore #genshin impact dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #soulmate au

[jodithann827]

One Night Stand (Revised)

3/13

Rated X (but this part is teen or mature)/ Ao3/ @today-in-fic

Saturday, May 9th, 1990

Starbucks

Dana absentmindedly stirs her coffee while looking out the window at her local Starbucks. The trees suddenly seem greener, the sounds of life outside sound sharper. Ellen is yammering about one thing or another, possibly something about one of the guys she met last night, but Dana can’t be certain. Her mind wanders to William. The minute he left, begrudgingly, as neither he nor Dana seemed to want to part, she called Ellen and asked her to meet for coffee. They’d been there for the last twenty minutes, with Ellen talking her ear off and Dana not speaking up once.

“Hello? Earth to Dana,” Ellen says, bringing her out of her trance. “What’s going on with you?”

“Is it considered a one-night stand if you have sex multiple times?” she says, suddenly, as Ellen takes a drink of her latte, while simultaneously spitting it out. Her hand flies up to her mouth.

“Dana Katherine Scully!” she screeches. Several patrons look over, amused.

“Ellen,” Dana scolds in a hushed tone.

“Sorry!” Ellen replies, scrunching her shoulders, not looking sorry at all. “I was looking around for you at one point but then saw you leaving with that cute guy you met.”

“Oh El, I’m sorry,” she tells her, but Ellen waves the comment away.

“Don’t sweat it. You looked like you were having fun, which is exactly what I wanted you to do when I suggested going out.” She retakes a sip of her latte, waiting for her friend to continue.

“What?” Dana asks her, “Getting laid?”

“Apparently more than once,” Ellen retorts back, grinning.

Dana takes a deep breath, looking back out the window. She pauses to collect her thoughts. “Oh Ellen, last night was,” she pauses, searching for the correct words, but coming up short. “It was magical. Last night. And this morning. And again after that in the shower.” Her friend’s jaw dropped. Dana shrugged her shoulders and smirked. “What?” she asked, “I was making up for lost time.”

Ellen chuckles, then surmises, “Well it must have been good. So when are you seeing him again?” At this Dana pauses, staring intently into her empty coffee mug.

“You are going to see him again, right? She asks.

“Well, actually, we decided to just let last night be last night,” she tells her friend.

“And this morning,” Ellen comments, slyly. “Who made that decision? Wait, don’t tell me, you did of course.” Other than Dana’s sister, Ellen knew her better than anyone.

“Come on Ellen. I’ve told you what my training is going to entail. I’m going to be busy from sun up to sun down. I won’t have time for anything outside of it; including a man. This is not the time to start something.

“ Dana. it’s not like you’re getting married. What is wrong with befriending a good-looking, single guy, who happens to be good in bed… it was good, wasn’t it? I mean three times says it was good…” she smirks.

Dana blushes but gives in, “Toe-curling and out of this world.” She considers her friend's words. No, there is nothing wrong with making a friend. He seemed like a genuinely lovely guy. He was understanding that she couldn’t commit to anything serious. What if I made a mistake? She thinks to herself.

“Did you at least get his number?” Ellen asks, bringing Dana’s focus back to the present. Dana hangs her head in defeat.

“Well,” Ellen says, hopefulness attempting to penetrate the conversation, “Did you get his name?” Again, Dana shakes her head, “Only his first name.”

Ellen shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe he left something at your place that will clue you in to who he is.”

“Or,” Dana considers, “It is what it is. Just a really fun evening with a hot guy, amazing sex, and some great memories to hold on to.” She tries to sound upbeat but knows she sounds defeated. Ellen clicks her tongue and sighs. She knows her friend so well. She doesn’t date a lot and in the past, when she fell for someone, she fell hard. Her last relationship, Ryan, had lasted almost a year, and before that, she’d dated some professor in med school; Dana was pretty vague about it and Ellen never pressed her. Hopefully, for her friend’s sake, this scenario would truly be a one-night stand and she would get over it quickly. Unfortunately, Ellen doubted it.

***

Later on, after returning from her coffee date with Ellen, Dana ransacks her apartment, looking for any clues that would lead her to William, however, she finds nothing. It’s like he had never been there. Feeling the sting of defeat, she crawls over to her couch, hoists herself up, and sighs, trying to reassure herself of what she’d said to her friend. It was just a one-night stand

#dana scully #fox mulder #the x files fanfic #au fanfiction #x files #morning after #mistakes #but not really

[wedonthaveawhile]

The Serpents Hold // Chapter Six

Summary: When Sebastian turns to dark magic to cure his sister, Nova and Ominis find themselves reluctantly thrust into a partnership to aid him. Amid the disapproval of Ominis' family, Nova wrestles with her growing feelings for him and also with the nagging suspicion that Ominis knows more about Anne's condition than he's letting on.

AO3 // Masterlist

"Gran was showing me around Blackdown Hills, where she used to play with wild beasts as a little girl—"

Nova was partially tuned into Poppy's recounting of her half-term break, her emerald cloak and tie inconspicuously concealed beneath the Hufflepuff table. Her head was propped in her hand as she picked at the pastry on her plate, reducing its flaky layers to fine dust.

"We got the kneazle untangled from the thorns... We named it... Nova, are you listening?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Poppy. I was just, uh..." She gestured towards her demolished breakfast. "Lost in thought, I suppose. You caught a kneazle?"

"Rescued!" Poppy corrected indignantly, "We managed to save the kneazle, and I named her Nova."

"Kneazle-Nova is lucky to have crossed paths with you," Nova smiled warmly, brushing the lingering crumbs from her fingers back onto the plate. "We both are."

Poppy's eyes sparkled as she beamed back at her, "How was your break? Feldcroft must have been lovely. Anne is such a gem, isn't she? We used to share an astronomy class. How's she doing?"

Nova's thoughts were still untangling from their earlier wanderings, making it a challenge to keep up with the rapid-fire questions. "Honestly, it wasn't great," she confessed. "I didn't get much time with Anne before her uncle and Sebastian got into a massive argument. I haven't seen him since everyone returned, and I'm getting worried."

"Have you seen Ominis?" Poppy asked, her words cutting through a large bite of croissant. "They're usually joined at the hip, you could ask him."

Nova's expression twisted into a grimace. "I make a point of avoiding him if possible. He tolerates me at best and doesn't exactly approve of our friendship."

"Because you're such a bad influence?" Poppy snorted, and Nova tried not to take offence. "Ominis is nice, I'm sure he'll help. I saw him heading to the Dark Arts Tower earlier. Do you want me to help you find him?"

"It's fine. I can tell you're eager to say hello to all your beasts."

Following breakfast, Nova dawdled at the threshold of the Undercroft. She had steered clear since Ominis had issued his threats, but it was the only unexplored corner of the castle in her search for Sebastian. Flicking her wand over the gilded symbols, she clung to the hope Ominis wasn't down there with him. That hope shattered the moment she stepped into the dusty abyss, instantly assaulted by the intensity of his deranged voice.

"Anything to do with the dark arts should be avoided, Sebastian. It's too risky."

"At this point, anything to do with Salazar Slytherin is worth the risk," Sebastian countered, his agitated footsteps pacing restlessly between the candlelit pillars.

"Well, I don't see it that way. I won't entertain further discussion on the matter. I'm sorry."

Nova might as well have been a ghost. Ominis strode past her with a silent indifference—an improvement, she had to admit, from their first encounter in the Undercroft.

"What was that about?" she joined Sebastian at a makeshift desk, creatively assembled from a precarious stack of trunks. "Is this where you've been for the past day? Sebastian, I was worried."

"I'm sorry," he attempted to console her with something resembling a hug, but his eyes and palm remained glued on scraps of parchment scattered across the worktop. "That book we stole states that Salazar Slytherin has a scriptorium here in Hogwarts. It turns out Ominis has known about it this whole time."

"A scriptorium?"

"Yes, there has to be a treasure trove of information on dark magic in there. There has to be some insight into curses." His initial enthusiasm gave way to a more solemn expression as he collapsed onto a chair. "Ominis wants no part in it, but only an heir of Slytherin can find the entrance. Whatever's in that room might hold the answers for Anne."

Nova nudged aside the manuscript, settling atop the trunk to face him. "Ominis does have a point, Sebastian. While a cure for Anne is the best-case scenario, have you considered the worst-case?"

"As I said to him, it's worth the risk." Sebastian dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. "There is far more to dark magic than most people realise, the Gaunt's know this all too well."

Nova's curiosity stirred at his words. Ominis had implied that his comprehension of dark magic revolved solely around Soloman's time as an auror.

"What do you mean by that?"

Sebastian ran a nervous hand through his wild hair. "I shouldn't have told you about Ominis' family history in the library," his words escaped rapidly, as if fighting to restrain himself from divulging more. "He gave me quite a scolding."

Nova's gave him a sheepish smile. "To be fair, I didn't mention anything to do with the whole marriage arrangement. He's just annoyingly perceptive."

"You're not wrong." His eyes darted toward the exit to ensure Ominis had left. "Look, if you promise not to breathe a word..."

"I promise," Nova said, crossing her heart with her fingers, fully aware that her track record for keeping secrets was far from flawless.

"Ominis was schooled in dark magic by his family. Have you heard of the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Is that one of the unforgivables? Ominis told me a little."

"It's the curse that inflicts unbearable pain on its victims," Sebastian explained. "His parents and brother use it on muggles for sport. They forced Ominis to cast it when he was just a child; when he refused, they subjected him to it themselves."

Guilt coiled in the pit of her stomach. No wonder he was so adamant about keeping away from dark magic.

 "The rift between him and his family only widened from there until I came along," Sebastian continued. "He trusts me, and more often than not, he listens to what I have to say. I'm sure I can convince him to help."

"I don't think it's fair for Ominis to forbid you from exploring options to save Anne. But it's also unfair to involve him, given his past. Is there anything in that book that doesn't drag him into it?"

"Nothing else that remotely relates to dark curses," he sighed, unbothered by her judgment. "Although, there's a whole section dedicated to secret rooms in Hogwarts." He angled the book to better catch the candlelight. "Take a look at this, the Room of Requirement."

The room features a unique capability to furnish or transform itself into precisely what a witch or wizard unequivocally requires at any given moment.

"Really?" Nova remained unconvinced. "Surely, a room like that would be common knowledge by now?"

"I'm not so sure; look here." Sebastian persisted, gesturing to another section of the passage.

To access the room, it is necessary to cross the vicinity of the door repeatedly, passing it three times while maintaining a focused intention for the desired outcome.

"According to this map, it should be located on the seventh floor of the astronomy tower, right across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy."

"Where the toilets are?"

"What toilets?"

"Just... the toilets," Nova repeated with a shrug. "The ones across from the tapestry."

Sebastian's forehead creased in confusion. "Nova, there are no toilets across from the tapestry."

"Yes, there is," she insisted. "During my first astrology class, Professor Shah wouldn't let me go to the toilet. By the time the class finished, I was desperate, so I ran down that corridor—"

Her sentence came to a screeching halt in realisation, and her eyes locked onto Sebastian's, both their mouths agape in gleeful delirium.

Sunlight poured into the corridor from the adjacent staircase as Nova and Sebastian stood facing the deceptively ordinary wall. Sebastian rapped his knuckles against the stone before pressing his ear to the cold surface, listening intently. After a moment, he took a step back, shaking his head.

"Well, what are you needing?" Nova asked, searching along the dents and contours of the stonework for any hidden seams.

"I need access to a scriptorium that harbours cures for dark and debilitating curses."

"Right... Well, concentrate on... that. And walk past three times," she urged, giving him a gentle push to start pacing along the length of the corridor.

"Why in Merlin's name were you pacing back and forth like a caged lion if you needed a piss?" his voice echoed through the corridor much louder than necessary.

"It was my first week, Sebastian; I didn't know where the fuck I was."

He laughed, though his amusement gradually waned as he continued to pace, realising that no hidden door was materialising.

"Perhaps the room doesn't know how to fix a curse," Nova said as Sebastian came to a miserable halt. "Or maybe it only listens to me," she added, pushing him against the tapestry before darting off to the other end of the corridor. "I need a weeeeeeeee!" she bellowed as she sprinted back and forth.

Sebastian snatched the hood of her cloak and flung her behind him. "I need a scriptorium that holds cures for dark curseeeees!" he hollered with equal enthusiasm as he sprinted to the end of the passage, colliding with the wall and using the impact's momentum to throw himself back down the corridor.

He hurtled toward Nova, who extended her arm in an attempt to slow him down. Their collision sent them both tumbling to the ground in a wild entanglement of limbs, the force of the impact knocking the breath out of them.

"Well, it would have been a bloody miracle if that worked," Sebastian choked out between laughter as they both lay winded on the floor. He gave a thumbs-up to a confused Ravenclaw, who cautiously sidestepped their sprawled bodies. "I should get to class. I'll revisit the scriptorium topic with Ominis later," he groaned as he rose to his feet. Extending a hand as he helped Nova up from the floor. "And if he doesn't agree... well... he's not the only heir."

Nova watched Sebastian vanish around the corner, her elation transforming into a rising tide of panic. Hadn't he just told her about Ominis' family's reputation for torture? They were clearly very dark wizards. Sebastian was putting himself in grave danger.

Nova wriggled through the throng of bodies ambling into the classroom, diving to secure the seat beside Ominis.

There were several factors to the lethargy that hung over their history of magic class, but chiefly among them was Professor Binn's complete lack of direct engagement with his students. The hypnotic drone of his voice kicked into gear, and eyelids began drooping under the weight of the monotonous lecture.

Ominis folded his arms and rested them on his open textbook, snuggling into the bunched fabric from his sleeves. His charmed quill danced frantically across his parchment, diligently scribbling down vital notes while he stole a nap. Beside him, Nova absently scratched at the etchings on their desk, adding to the collection of inscriptions left by countless generations of tired students.

She let slip a quiet sigh, her eyes flitting over to Ominis as she wrestled with the best way to broach the subject of Sebastian. His gentle breaths tousled his typically well-kept hair, strands cascading untidily across his forehead. Nova resisted the temptation to whip out her quill and play connect-the-dots with the splatter of beauty marks on his cheek, instead captivated by how closely they resembled Ursa Major.

His disembodied quill darted across the desk, leaving behind a hastily scrawled note on her parchment.

Stop staring at me.

A deep flush of embarrassment stained her cheeks.

"I need to talk to you," she whispered, edging herself closer to him, her voice dropping to a murmur, "It's about Sebastian."

If this is about the scriptorium, I don't want to hear it.

She had barely finished reading his scribbled message before the quill scratched out every word in an erratic frenzy, leaving no trace of the message behind.

"This is important, Ominis. I'm on your side."

He continued to feign sleep and she released an exasperated groan, unintentionally rousing a pair of slumbering witches suspended in mid-scribble.

Class finally ended, and Nova hurriedly packed up, struggling to keep pace with Ominis while everyone else was still rubbing sleep from their eyes. He stormed to a secluded corner behind a stairwell, then promptly turned around to face her.

"You have one minute."

"Sebastian told me about the scriptorium—"

"It's a cesspit of dark magic. It's staying untouched," he interrupted, "He can't get near it without me, and I won't change my mind."

He began to walk away, but Nova's fingers tightened around the crook of his elbow. "Ominis, listen to me," she snapped. She anticipated resistance and was taken aback when he remained silent. "He didn't go into details, but he said you're not the only descendant. I think he's planning to reach out to your brother."

Ominis' pallid features turned an even more ghostly shade of white; he looked like he was going to be sick. "We can't allow him to do that," his voice strained as he fought to suppress a tremor.

"I know," Nova replied, comforted by his use of the word we. "I've been mulling it over all morning, and from where I stand, there are only two options." She spoke softly as she proposed the first option: "You unlock the scriptorium, and we allow him to go in alone." She knew he wouldn't favour this choice.

"He'll die."

"You can't know that for sure."

"I can," he murmured, his eyes squeezing shut as he dragged his fingertips down his face. "It happened to my aunt, Noctua. She shared my beliefs and disagreed with the family's use of dark magic. She hoped to convince my family there was more to Salazar Slytherin than worshipping pureblood status. She'd heard of this scriptorium and thought its contents might shed some light. She wrote to my father about her efforts to gain access, and then… vanished."

Their classmates passed by, casting concerned glances at the intense exchange under the stairs. Nova gently tugged on Ominis' sleeve, coaxing him closer into the privacy of the corner until their bodies were nearly touching.

"Noctua ventured down this path with good intentions and paid with her life," Ominis said quietly. "I don't want history to repeat itself."

She transitioned to the second option, "Your aunt ventured in alone, but three wands are better than one. We could do this together. Honour your aunt's memory by completing what she started and steer Sebastian away from self-destruction along the way."

He scratched the back of his neck as he mulled over the options. "This isn't your fight. I appreciate the warning, but if you want to walk away now, you can do so."

"I'm not going anywhere," she told him indignantly, offended by another attempt to distance her from Sebastian, but his features softened to something resembling relief rather than resistance.

"Good. I feel more at ease knowing you're on my side."

#ominis #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts oc #hogwarts houses #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #the serpents hold #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow

[pierrotsmoon]

Love (and Logic)

Chapter 1- Temple of Love

(crossposted from my Ao3)

Going to Miskatonic as an art student is tough enough; the pretentious boy in Y/N's anatomy course is somehow making it worse.

A/N: I researched bone structure for this, any skeletal enthusiasts feel free to make corrections. Also character's thoughts will be italicized.

Herbert West x Fem! Reader

Warnings!- Enemies to lovers, harrasment, dr. Hill being creepy, first day of classes, budding friendships, DAN AND HERB RESPECT WOMEN!!! tell me if I missed anything!

Going to Miskatonic as an art student was what Y/N had wanted for her entire life. The prestigious institution allowed her a full-ride scholarship, probably because they needed more fine arts students to keep getting grant money. Best not to dwell on negatives! As Y/N opened up her backpack, she shoved in her sketchbook, textbook, pencil case, and field watercolor kit. Swinging the pack over her back, she broke open her apartment door and sauntered out.

Y/N opened up the pink class schedule she had written, anatomy, wonderful. The medical students at Miskatonic seemed good at first, but tended to look down upon the arts, especially during classes often shared by both majors. As soon as she walked through the door, the eyes of the few students inside turned to her. The instructor came up to her.

"Good morning. I’m Doctor Carl Hill, and I'm pleased to meet you."

The doctor smiled at her, and Y/N felt a chill climb up her spine. This man did not leave a good taste in her mouth, and she didn't like how he placed his hand on her shoulder. She quickly found a seat next to a young man who was glaring at the doctor.

“He’s such a creep around girls.”

The man whispered to himself loudly enough for only them to hear. Y/N looked down at her watch; it was 20 minutes until class  started. The brunette in scrubs turned around to look at the young woman, giving her a (far less creepy) smile. He wore gloves on his hands and appeared frazzled, with messy hair and untied shoelaces. 

"My name is Dan, and I'm a medical student; what are you studying?"

Dan gave her a boyish smile, and the young woman smiled back. 

“I’m Y/N, I study visual and fine arts.”

The boy looked momentarily amazed, like he had stars in his eyes. He looked at her casual clothing, sweater, a skirt, and Mary Janes—and he knew he had finally found a friend in his least favorite class. The two of them began making small talk as the sound of footsteps broke the conversation.

“Good morning doctor, is the skull functions quiz today?”

The professor visibly tensed.

“Dr. West, a pleasure as always.”

Y/N turned her head around to meet the eyes of a scrutinizing figure, almost glaring at her with lips that slowly sunk into a frown. 

She immediately looked away, annoyed by his insistence on looking at her like she was Satan.

“Is she even in proper scrubs?”

The eyes of the entire room, which was now rather packed, turned to Y/N. She looked back at him with fire in her eyes.

“I’m just a spectator from the arts department, I hope that doesn't bother you too much.” 

He gave off this perturbed hmph before sitting down in the only chair left, right between Y/N and Dan.

“Come on, Herbert, she’s nice!”

Herbert pointedly turned his head away from his roommate’s incessant whining. He didn't need to become friends with art students. What would they ever do for him? The girl would just be another squeamish failure; why should he tolerate that? He turned forward to see the skeleton model come out of the industrial closet, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl rapidly flip to a clean page in her sketchbook. ‘So unprepared.’ Herbert was aware that the few art students in the class would leave after this semester, when the lessons on bone structure and anatomy concluded. He'll be glad that his routine will be back to normal.

“Does the femur support more than the leg bones and knees?”

Herbert looked to his side again, polished shoes tapping impatiently on the white linoleum. ‘ Why was she asking such easy and insufferable questions?’ 

The professor animatedly stepped closer, leaning over her shoulder and answering intently. Herbert sighed ‘a plagiarist and a creep.’ He was getting ready to go back to his own clipboard, until he saw the professor's hands begin to get closer and closer to her hip, horror filling her already scared eyes.

“Professor! Could you assess these notes on the pelvic joints?”

It disgusted Herbert to see how he looked genuinely disappointed at the prospect of not getting to harass a young woman who looked close to tears. Dan noticed the spectacle, looking around one more time to see that everyone else was focused on their work. He gave Herbert a pointed glance, a non-verbal good job.

   ★

The students all gave their half attention to the professor when he opened up a filing cabinet, grabbing a manila folder and opening it. He handed out a copy to each student. 

“Alright then! A new semester with new students allows for another project. Since our new students hail from the arts sector, I’ve planned an art project for the class.”

‘Oh God, why?’ Herbert was well aware that he didn't have a good reputation with Dr. Hill, but failing a project would result in a significant drop in his grade; after all, art had never been his strong suit.

Dr. Hill began listing off all of the pairings, most of whom were rather excited to get to know one another.

“ And Y/N with Herbert.”

The two young adults turned around and stared at one another, shortly before Dan broke the silence.

“Just make sure you two keep it quiet.”

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

the future chapters are gonna be better

#herbert west x reader #reanimator #herbert west #horror films #horror movies #horror x reader #slasher x reader #miskatonic university #enemies to lovers #dan cain #the reanimator

[animereaderinsertwriter]

tags/warnings: a/b/o, omega trafficking, omega!reader, post-trafficked!reader, complex discourse on mating vs marriage, breakup then makeup, angst with a happy ending, mention of erectile dysfunction, eventual smut, dubcon elements

song: Careless Whisper

Part II - Part I - ao3

When his phone rang, Shoto was sitting at his own dining room table and contemplating fixing himself a drink.

Or twenty.

His mate was sitting across from him, nattering on about her day. Shoto tried not to be annoyed. It wasn’t her fault that he despised her to her very, very shallow core. It wasn’t her fault that he longed for the true mate of his heart. It wasn’t her fault, plain and simple. He just wished she would stop talking. It would be easier to pretend she didn’t exist that way.

“—and then Brenda was like, slut shaming her sister Bonnie at the office, right,” she said, waving her fork around enough to spatter sauce across the table, “and then when Bonnie walked in, oh my God, it was like—”

She paused for half a second as Shoto’s ringtone blasted. He took the opportunity to stop her gabbing for a while and reached into his pocket for it despite the poor manners of the act, but then everything ceased to matter as he saw the contact name.

(Y/N).

His heart lurched. A thousand scenarios and calculations ran through his mind as he answered the call, each of them both better and worse than the next. The call connected, Shoto answered.

“Hey,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “What’s up?”

Nothing. There was some shuffling, then the line went dead. A butt dial, then? No— at this time of night, (Y/N)’s phone would be on the charger as she cooked dinner. Well, unless—

Shoto visualized a calendar in his mind and counted the months and weeks. If his calculations were correct, then—

He stood. His mate, befuddled, asked where he was going.

“Out,” he replied curtly. “Don’t wait up.”

Her scent rippled with distress, and Shoto felt physical pain at the harm he’d caused her. With a curt bow, he bade her goodbye, grabbing his coat from the door on the way out. 

Pain didn’t matter all that much to him anymore.

As he walked from his mate’s home to (Y/N)’s new apartment on the east side, his mind raced at the possibilities that lay before him. He hadn’t heard from his wife in months— that she was calling him now couldn’t be because things were going well. Maybe her heat had started and she’d gotten sick, as she sometimes did; in that case, it was plausible that she would have called him out of habit, then changed her mind. Or, worse, it was certainly a possibility that she’d been so sick that she couldn’t speak to answer him. That would make sense if the heat had affected her quirk, as it sometimes did. So often had she used her voice quirk, Scream, to defend herself against attackers during her heat that her body had begun to associate that flux of hormones with vocal damage. All of those options were plausible, possible, even likely. Still, though, one other distinct possibility had lodged itself firmly in Shoto’s mind and refused to leave, drowning out all else.

Maybe, in the midst of her heat, (Y/N) had wanted him.

The thought alone had him half-hard in his pants, which was a miracle in and of itself. During the time that he and (Y/N) had been separated, he had tried to be a good mate, help his partner through her heat, give her the things he owed her as her alpha, but— well. He hadn’t been able to hold an erection for her to save his life. No matter the position, no matter the hormones, it was like— it was like he was broken. No that he cared, or that it mattered. He felt so hollow these days. Perhaps it was for the better. 

Shoto shook those thoughts away. He'd never had a moment's trouble with (Y/N). When he thought of her wet and wanting him, thinking of him, longing for him as she fucked herself with her fingers, comfortable at long last with her own pleasure, he found the idea heavy and heady in his mind, and he felt his body rise to the occasion. 

Easy, he warned himself as he began the climb up the stairs to (Y/N)'s apartment. She might not react well to alpha hormones blazing right off the get-go. Breathe, control it. 

The last thing Shoto expected to find at the end of that last flight of stairs was an open door and alpha scent. Suddenly alert, wary, he spread his hands, summoning flame to light the apartment, and what he found killed any warm and fuzzy alpha desires he might have had. 

(Y/N)'s apartment had been absolutely trashed. Every drawer had been dumped out, every piece of furniture upended; there wasn't a single thing in the place left intact. A few scents, mostly alpha, caught Shoto's attention, and his blood ran cold when he didn't find (Y/N) anywhere within. Gradually, his hero instincts surfaced, analyzing, understanding; shortly after, his alpha instincts raged forth, for once in accordance with his own heart. 

With calm and sure fingers, Shoto dialed his secretary's number. Hopefully he wouldn't be bothering the man at a bad time, even if it wouldn't be the first time Shoto had called in his skills after hours.

"Lee-san," Shoto said when his secretary answered, "I need you to get in touch with the most elite heroes we have access to at the agency. My wife is missing, and I'm going to find her. Send a good tracker with them— I'm not waiting for them when the trail is this fresh."

"Todoroki-san!" Lee interjected, stepping harshly on Shoto's delicate, fraying patience. "Forgive my saying so, but you should wait for backup to—"

Shoto hung up. He didn't have time for nonsense. With purposeful strides, he made his way to the threshold of the door where (Y/N)'s scent was most fresh, and inhaled deeply. Closing his eyes, he allowed her scent— intimate, familiar— to swell, linger in his nose. He opened his eyes, and as he began his descent of their stairs, he could ever-so-faintly catch the scent of his wife lingering in the air. 

I'm coming, darling, he thought, murder on his mind. Hang in there. 

***

(Y/N) came to with her hands tied above her head and slick coating her thighs. A thick gag had been forced into her mouth, a few men— one alpha, one omega, one beta— stood before her, talking amongst themselves. By the time (Y/N) had truly awakened, the three of them had noticed her consciousness, and the alpha grinned at her, voracious and predatory. 

"Good evening, Mrs. Todoroki," he greeted her, his hormones loud and fragrant as he moved closer. "My friends and I have some questions about your husband and his agency."

If (Y/N) could have laughed, she would have. Instead, she kicked wildly out with one leg, attempting to strike at the alpha, but the blow felt short. All she caught was air, and the alpha smirked. 

"We thought that might be your feeling," he said. "To remedy that, we brought a little something that we thought would persuade you to feel differently."

The omega reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small rectangular box. He opened it, revealing a syringe and glass bottle, and panic ripped through (Y/N) as swiftly and violently as a wolf's teeth through sheep-flesh. Desperate with fear, she began to thrash, screaming for help through the gag in her mouth, knowing no one would come. 

This is it, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. This is how I die. I can't do this again. I can't.

"Do it," the alpha commanded. "Bernard, hold her still."

The beta stepped forward. Once he was within range, (Y/N) unleashed hell, hitting him squarely in the belly, chest, then throat with her foot as many times as she could before she was finally subdued, held at knifepoint by her larger, stronger captor. 

"Hurry up," grumbled Bernard the beta to his omega counterpart. "I can't stand the smell of her."

Despite herself, (Y/N)'s face warmed with embarrassment. A fresh wave of cramps hit her, followed by a rush of fluid, and she closed her eyes once more, wishing to be anywhere else.

There was a sharp, burning pain in her neck as the syringe was inserted. Once it was done, Bernard released her, and (Y/N) felt herself begin to tremble. Hot tears seared her cheeks. Her heart raced, and she felt queasy; it would only be a matter of time, she knew, before she was no longer herself. Hopefully, her years of forced overuse of heat enhancers would give her some level of tolerance to it, but (Y/N) could not doubt the drug's effectiveness. In a few minutes, she would be begging for alpha cock and would do or say anything to get it. 

The humiliation was the worst part, she decided. To be damned by your own biology— how pathetic. 

As her tears fell, (Y/N) thought of Shoto. She wondered what he would think of her; she wondered if he would blame himself. Then, remembering his new mate, she wondered if he would care at all, or if his biology had damned her as well.

The drug was working. (Y/N) could feel her temperature rising, sweat forming on her brow. She twisted uncomfortably, her numb arms and aching shoulders stiff from the abuse of the ropes she was hung from. Her abdomen began cramping once more, and she cried out against the pain. 

Shoto, she thought, her heart longing for the only man she had ever loved. Shoto. 

(Y/N) lost herself. She wanted— she needed an alpha, needed a mate, needed to be bred. She felt that she might die without it. It was hot, it was so hot, it was too fucking hot— there was an alpha across the way, but he was too far. She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She was an omega in heat, why wasn't the alpha coming to her? Didn't he want her?

"Oh, yes," she felt more than heard the alpha say. "She'll be ready to talk soon."

Something within (Y/N) stirred. She sniffed the air. She sniffed again, then wrinkled her nose. This alpha was unworthy. He smelled weak, like soured milk and a mother's teat. She couldn't allow this one to breed her; his offspring wouldn't last even a mild summer, much less a harsh winter. Whatever happened, it couldn't be him. She wouldn't allow it. 

But then, she ached. She needed an alpha— needed, needed, needed—

A crash sounded in the distance, followed by gunfire. Another crash, a scream. (Y/N) squirmed, her body sensing something amiss, and the alpha in front of her turned to the door, his scent turning acrid with piss-smelling fear. The door burst open, slammed off of its hinges by an icy battering ram, and then there was a new alpha presence in the room that drew (Y/N)'s full attention. 

Shoto Todoroki— tall, imposing, and deadly— stood before her, emanating rage and raw power. An alpha's growl ripped from his throat, harsh and bone-chilling; (Y/N) keened, her aching body arching, and with a single flick of his fingers, Shoto froze every other man in the room solid.

Now that was an alpha. That was a fit mate, a fine sire for strong pups. It was this one or none, (Y/N) decided. 

The alpha approached her, his strides full of predatory power and grace. He was speaking to her in low, gentle tones made quick by concern, but (Y/N) didn't hear any of it as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Gently, he held her so that she wouldn't fall when he used white-hot flames to sever the ropes that bound her; pressed so close to him, (Y/N) could smell the rising hormones of the alpha, could feel his body responding to hers in the stirring of pre-rut. Once she was free and the ropes slipped from her hands, Shoto removed the gag from her mouth, and then there was nothing between (Y/N) and the urging of her body.

(Y/N) opened her mouth wide and sank her teeth into the flesh of the junction between his neck and shoulder. She bit down hard, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to truly wound, and the alpha who held her roared in pain. Primitive pride rose in (Y/N), knowing she had shown him her strength; now, he would know that she would be a strong mother to strong pups. Satisfied, she released the pressure of her teeth against the mark, pulling back— but she didn't get very far before her alpha bit her in turn, using equal force and tenacity.

The thrill of the bond crashed through her with all the force and sensation of a broken spine. There was a pop, then acute agony— she whined, high and needy, but her alpha did not release her. He held her there, demanding her complacence, and she willingly gave it, her body convulsing with the force of the bond.

He released her, pulling away. His lips and teeth were bloody, and (Y/N) surged forward, tasting the coppery flavor of her own blood from his incisors. Her alpha turned the motion into a kiss, strong but gentle; his warm hand splayed over her back, steadying her as he tasted her lips, tongue, and teeth. 

"Mate," he said in a soft alpha purr, and (Y/N) could bear it no longer.

"Please," was all she had the coherence to say, and, thankfully, that was all Shoto needed to hear. 

With soft strength, her alpha knelt on the ground, careful to keep a gentle hold of her; with tender kisses, he lowered her to let her back rest on the floor. As she lay trembling beneath him, he took a single flaming finger and flayed open her shirt, then her pants, leaving her entirely bare. As his own clothes got the same treatment, (Y/N)'s thighs and pussy felt suddenly chilled from being so wet and exposed to open air— but thankfully, that discomfort didn't last for long. Shoto stroked his hard cock once, twice, then lined himself up with her entrance and pushed inside. (Y/N) arched into him, unable to think much past full— so full!— and then he was moving, readjusting so that his face was tucked into the mark he'd left moments before and their entire torsos were touching. 

It was in this way that he fucked her. With deep, powerful strokes, he sated the need inside her. There was no hurry to the act, no heated rush; there was only deep, aching fulfillment, a thorough claiming. (Y/N) found herself keening, high and desperate as Shoto licked and sucked at the bond marking over her neck, still steadily fucking her. She came not long after, her body sore and sick with stress but so, so satisfied. 

It was a while yet before her alpha finished, following her into bliss— but when he did, it was inside her, his knot swelling to tie them together until the moment came for them to separate. Exhausted, (Y/N) took comfort in the heavy weight of her alpha draped over her. Wrapped in his warmth, she allowed sleep to overtake her, trusting Shoto with her safety as she rested. 

***

(Y/N) and Shoto sat together in the waiting room of the doctor's office, awkwardly leaving a seat between them as they waited to be called back. 

It had been a week since the incident. Once backup had arrived on the scene to find Shoto and (Y/N) entangled, mated, and wounded by the uncharacteristic violence of their mating bites, Shoto had come back to himself enough to be embarrassed by the state of things. An hour later, sitting at the side of (Y/N)'s hospital bed, Shoto had come back to himself enough to feel bone-deep shame, not at how he'd been found, but at his own actions. How could he have lost himself so thoroughly and with so little resistance that he would risk the life of the woman he loved? How could he have been so stupid, so mindless, so selfish?

(Y/N) hadn't even blamed him, though. When she’d finally woken after a death-like sleep, she had turned her head to him, ever sweet, ever gentle, and said,

“Thank you.”

She had smiled at him then, her eyes full of tears. Shoto had felt sick with shame and unworthiness, but he didn’t have time to say anything back before what little strength (Y/N) had left her, and her eyes closed once more. 

Since then, they hadn’t spoken. Natsuo, ever protective of his favorite sister-in-law, had ensured that Shoto was kicked out of the hospital room and escorted to the police station to give his statement, and the next thing Shoto knew, he was being handed papers saying that he had a new mating bond— a strong, legally binding bond, and apparently, his only bond. After that, he’d been dragged to his old mate’s home by one of her friends and had since been dealing with the aftermath of the violent breaking of such a bond by staying on Touya’s couch and hiding from everyone and everything until the whole thing blew over.

Now, at Natsuo’s recommendation, Shoto and (Y/N) were meeting with a physician to see about the bond— to confirm its existence, the health of the bonded, and the dissolution of any previous bonds belonging to either party. Additionally, they would likely be given the option to dissolve the bond using chemical injections and physical separateness.

Selfishly, Shoto hoped it didn’t come to that. Desperately, he hoped that by some miracle, (Y/N) would look at him once more and see someone worth loving, worth being with; he hoped against all hope that she could still love him despite all that he had done to her.

She hadn’t contacted him during the week, though. She hadn’t said so much as a word to anyone outside of Natsuo, who was still angry enough that he was barely speaking to Shoto. She must be furious, or hurt, or—

“Shoto?”

He looked over to find (Y/N) staring at him, nervously wringing her hands.

“Yeah?”

There were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Confused, he blinked.

“For what, darling?”

Her composure broke, then. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her face scrunched, and Shoto could bear the distance between them no more. He moved to the empty chair between them, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and she wept into his side, all the while still trying to apologize.

“I— keep, like— ruining everything,” she cried, shaking with the force of her tears. “You— you were settled with your mate and then I— and then I called you because I’m stupid and then I— and then I—”

She couldn’t finish. She collapsed in on herself, utterly hysterical, and Shoto held her. Shamefully, there was a small, fervent part of him that was glad to hold her, to have the warmth of her body pressed against him; he felt the urge to press his lips against the still-fresh wound of her mark, to use his alpha wiles to soothe and calm her, but managed to resist, if only by inches.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her gently, rubbing his hand over her back. “I’m glad you called me.”

“You— you are?”

She looked up at him, eyes wet and shining with her tears.

“I am,” he replied, squeezing her arm. “Because you called, I was able to find you. I would have died if—”

He cleared his throat.

“If something had happened to you.”

Those were not the words he’d meant to say. He’d meant to say, I would have died if it had been any other man there saving you. If you had marked and bonded another alpha, I would have never recovered.

(Y/N) watched him, her eyes ever-sharp, and she moved to pull away.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said through her sniffles, as though she hadn’t understood a thing he said. “You’re- you’re always so considerate, but that doesn’t m-mean that you deserve what happened as a result.”

Shoto didn’t think before he spoke. The words bubbled up and came out quite without his permission.

“If you’re referring to the bond,” he told her, staring deep into her eyes, “I’m glad it happened.”

(Y/N)’s eyes grew wide, but Shoto wasn’t finished.

“Maybe the circumstances could have been better, and maybe we could have found a way to hurt one another less in the process, but truthfully, darling—”

He took her hand in his.

“I was miserable before, with that other woman. I hated her and longed for you every waking moment. It might be selfish, but what happened gave me the chance to be bonded to the woman I have always loved, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

(Y/N) stared at him, speechless. She probably hated him now, Shoto thought distantly. She probably thought he was the most selfish, boneheaded alpha asshole—

“Shoto Todoroki,” she said, and her scent began to gather, coalescing aggressively into something wonderful and terrifying, “Do you mean to say—”

She stopped, her throat tightening, and Shoto told her the only truth he knew.

“I love you,” he told her. “I never stopped.” 

In the beautiful, impossible way that only she could manage, (Y/N) smiled like she was seeing color in the world for the first time. She took Shoto’s breath away, and he just couldn’t help himself any longer. He kissed her softly, tenderly, and her hands came up to brace on his shoulders. Her thumb brushed the bite mark she’d left on him earlier in the week, and a growl escaped his lips, drawing attention from the other people in the waiting room.

“Take me home,” (Y/N) said, pulling away to look in his eyes. “I need you, Shoto.”

Shoto tried very hard to concentrate. 

“But the doctor—”

“Damn the doctor.” She brushed her hand over Shoto’s bond mark again, and he shivered. “Take me home. To our home.”

Shoto only needed to be told twice. 

“Let’s go then,” he said, standing. “To our home.”

So they went. 

Afterwards, they talked. They talked about everything— Shoto’s time with the other woman, (Y/N)’s career at the branch office, the feelings they both had about what happened. In the middle of things, Natsuo called, worried out of his mind about their missed appointment, but when he heard (Y/N)’s laughter in the background, he was immediately mollified, telling Shoto not to fuck it up again. In the space of a single afternoon, the misery of six months was erased, long-forgotten in the face of deep, enduring love. 

“It was worth it though,” said (Y/N) thoughtfully. “Everything we’ve been through has been worth it to me to get here, with you.”

Shoto thought about it. He considered the heartache, the anguish, the misery; he considered his current happiness, and the love he bore his wife and mate.

“It was worth it,” he agreed. “You are worth it.”

And so it was.

#my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #mha fnafiction #bnha fanficiton #bnha x reader

[frostironfudge]

I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once - Bucky Barnes - Three

Summary: After receiving an honourable discharge from his military service that was caused by the loss of his arm, James Barnes begins to come to terms with several things. He also finds solace in youtube videos, memes and on social media, where he happens to find you.

Pairing: Ex-Military!Bucky Barnes x Fem! Plus Size!Reader (Modern AU)

Chapter Warnings: warnings: some angst, some fluff, two idiots having crushes, mutual pining, steve and natasha have the braincell, mild innuendos, nothing major

Word Count: 3841 Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Fic Masterlist || Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Playlist

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

It had been three months. Three months of laughter, jokes and an attempt to play UNO with a respective deck and failing miserably and then resorting to finding online versions of board games. Three months of staying up late and then alternatively nursing a cup of coffee. 

After the first month you had sat down with James to have a serious conversation about his sleeping pattern since the sporadic memes did make you laugh but their timing had your stomach churning. That lead to Bucky admitting he still struggles with PTSD from time to time. He also mentioned his reluctance for the bionic arm. Though he continued coding for the team and the other participants. 

Steve smiled warmly as Bucky snuck into the kitchen to speak to you. That man had this goofy grin on his face which Steve remembered from high school when Bucky had attempted to ask out the girl he had a crush on. 

“When are we supposed to tell him that he has a crush?” Sam has a mischievous glint he rubs his palms together almost feeling like a villain. 

“You’re way too excited about teasing him over her.” Steve notes with a chuckle. 

“Come on man, its been too long since we’ve seen him this happy, I just want to know whats going on.” Sam reasons and the blonde haired man just shakes his head. 

“Whats going on where?” Bucky comments entering as he pockets his phone. 

Sam grins, Bucky raises a brow in question to Steve. 

“Well we had a question.” Steve begins, then looks at Sam to carry forward. 

“Oh so pin it on me, great, yes so we’ve been aware of this watching the moon lady,”

“Watching the moonlight or you can take her name, she isn’t Voldemort.” Bucky corrects and still looks between the two in confusion. 

“Yes so, is something brewing there, is our question.” Sam completes and gives him a teasing look. 

Bucky opens his mouth then closes it again, “No.”

“Oh bullshit.” Steve rolls his eyes, “You have a thing for her.”

“Steve, seriously no.” Bucky defends hand raised to add emphasis. 

“So you won’t mind if I slide into her DMs right, cause she cute.” Sam smugly grins when he sees the brunette’s nostrils flare. 

“You aren’t her type.” He gets a Barnes glare. 

“And you know her type because?” Steve prompts. 

“Because we discussed about partners and— why am I even discussing this with you two? End of topic Sam is not her type nor are you.” Bucky adds when he sees that Steve is going to open his mouth. 

“I will still shoot my shot, since you aren’t interested in her. Correct?” Sam knows he is pushing it, but sometimes he needs to get himself a week worth of glaring to have Bucky act on something. 

“Maybe I will too.” Steve adds trying to hide the shit eating grin when it has the intended effect to rile Bucky up. 

“Why the sudden interest? She’s my friend since a while.” Bucky feels a twinge of hope, he knows it is stupid to compare himself to his best friends. He worries constantly that if he admits about his small crush on you, you will run for the hills after blocking him. 

“Yes well then you can vouch for her right?” Steve sits on the couch taking his phone out, Bucky moves to the couch as well eyeing what he’s doing he wants to throw the phone when Steve’s finger hovers above the send message icon. 

“Okay DM sent.” Sam gleams plopping down next to the two and Bucky reads the message he sent. 

@.falcon_wilson:

Hey pretty girl, saw your picture and couldn’t resist not knowing more about you. Care to know what is it that intrigues me about you, beautiful?

Bucky winces, if him admiting his feelings didn’t drive you away his friends would. 

“That is cringe.” Steve comments as he types away, “This is more tasteful.”

“Mine is flirty with just a hint of nice.”

“She’s going to block us all.” Bucky huffs, taking a bite of the mini pizzas. 

@.captainrogers:

Hey this is Steve, Bucky’s friend, I thought I could speak to you, I’m planning a little thing for his birthday and wanted to know if you would like to be a part of it?

“See this is sophisticated, allows for decent conversations. Before progressing.” The blonde explains with nonchalance. 

Sam rolls his eyes. 

Bucky facepalms. Then groans. Then retrieves his phone when it vibrates. 

His lips twitch into a half smile as he sees your familiar username. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

two of your friends slid into my DMs, should I be worried? is this some friendship test? or is it some weird pledge test, like from the american movies about frat houses and shit? is there a blood sacrifice involved? 

He laughs, the mirth calming his nerves. Only you would not understand their intentions of a message like that, it was three am on Saturday so past midnight for you. Which also meant you sacrificed your sleep usually till a little later and if you woke up early you would inevitably find Bucky awake. 

@.bbarnes:

it isn’t a frat house thing, also you need to stop watching trashy college films that are inaccurate. 

no blood sacrifices are involved. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

so it is a pledge thingy?

@.bbarnes:

ask them? i don’t know what they have sent… 

It is a white lie but he wants to know what will you say. 

“I have a reply! I have a reply!” Steve grins and the trio wait for the chat to load up.

@.watchingthemoonlight:

hey steve, nice to finally speak to you, james has spoken very highly of you, i’m glad he has such a good friend there for him but i’m a little confused… his birthday was about five months ago correct? or did you mean planning for next year already?

Steve groans, Sam and Bucky laugh.

“Yes, very strategic.” Sam applauds slowly for effective sarcasm delivery. 

“Why didn’t you say she knew your birthday!” Steve whines, thinking of what to reply to save face. 

“Birthdays are like the first few questions in twenty questions.” Bucky shrugs, his phone buzzes again and then Sam’s. 

“Lets see what she tells lover boy.” Steve grumbles and they turn to Sam’s phone. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

hi sam,

thank you for the compliment and what is it that intrigues you? 

Bucky re-reads it, you were initiating a conversation with Sam. He shouldn’t feel jealous or irritated but he kind of wishes you would shut him down. 

Sam grins and does an aha! “Now gotta turn on the Wilson charm.” He grins and begins to type. 

Bucky leans back into the couch to read your message from the notifications, but Steve laughs and he ignores his phone. 

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

hey james, so um, i have some news which is well meh so just let me know if you’re in the frame of mind to talk about some heavy stuff… i don’t want to dump it on you if you’re having a bad day.

Nat has come over but she will be out like a light bulb soon. 

So um yeah, let me know how are you feeling mental health wise and emotional health wise cause i’m not dumping my shit on you and if you lie to me i’ll know. 

@.captainrogers:

you got me, i prepare in advance so i know what to manage and who is a part of it. sort of like have a binder to go through step by step. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, Steve and meticulously planning things? The guy lost his student planner for the better part of high school. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

ah, well, you can count me in. james is very important to me, i don’t know how much he has spoken about me to you but he means a lot to me. 

so let me know how i can help from miles away. i think i could make a cake out of cake emojis so…

Steve laughs again, now he understands why Bucky keeps chuckling or huffing out a bemused laugh and the genuine laughter you bring to his best friend when he speaks to you. 

Bucky’s heart warms at the message, he keeps re-reading the line where you say he is very important to you. He bites the inside of his cheek contemplating admitting his feelings to his friends. 

You are too important for him to lose you. 

@.falcon_wilson:

first of all that little smile, i bet i could be a reason for it ;) 

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

aw, thank you

“Just, thank you?” Sam stares at his phone. 

“Really lovely Wilson charm, man.” Steve compliments. 

“Shut up.” Sam begins typing again. 

Bucky looks back at Steve’s reply and sees you typing. 

@.captainrogers:

i’m glad he has you too. also hmm, an emoji cake does sound fun but lets keep that as a back up till we figure something better out. 

hope your night is going well. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

sure, we’ll keep this as a plan C since i know you will come up with a plan A and B. 

oh nothing much just its past midnight here and i’m going to go off to sleep in a bit. it was really nice talking to you.

“That Rogers charm seems to be great. Sent her right to bed.” Sam remarks. 

@.falcon_wilson: 

i don’t know if it was obvious from my profile but i can fly planes, got my license this past year. I could see you enjoying flying. 

Bucky’s phone chimes again he reads the two notifications.

[message was unsent by sender 7 mins ago]

@.watchingthemoonlight sent you a message

he previews it from the notification tab heart sinking. 

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

does sam have a girlfriend? he’s messaging me and i don’t want to intrude on someone’s relationship. 

Bucky choses not to respond. You could ask Sam yourself. He clenches his jaw, trying not to let it get to him.

“Ohhh she responded!” Sam cheers and the disgruntled look on Bucky’s face has confirmed to Steve he has feelings for you. He needs to tell Sam to take it down a notch but Bucky was fully focused on the phone to ignore his text. 

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

that is pretty impressive bet you’ve taken a lot of ladies up there. 

@.falcon_wilson:

saving that for a special someone you know? what about you? any special things reserved for anyone special?

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

oh um it may seem silly but blanket forts and movie marathons, never made that but I want to with someone special. 

“Didn’t you two have a movie marathon?” Steve murmurs and Bucky looks up at him. 

“What? No- we just watched Sherlock.” Bucky shrugs trying to not let it get to him. 

@.falcon_wilson:

i could build you that fort and several more. it isn’t silly at all. 

“Lets see if she agrees.” Sam looks at Bucky and for some reason the latter is holding his breath in anticipation. 

You stare at the two unread messages sent to James, he did say he was going to hang out with the two of the said friends who were DM-ing her. So she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the type of texts. You decide to un-send the earlier message. 

Nat was still laughing at Sam’s attempts at flirting with you. Though she had been pestering you to admit you were developing feelings for the kind hearted veteran who graced your phone and laptop screen more often than your university work. 

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Nat exasperatedly lays down on the bed snatching your phone and groaning at the latest cheesy flirty message from Sam. 

Though you had shut down Steve by giving a reason of sleeping, a part of you wondered if James and they had discussed anything before reaching out to you. That is if this wasn’t some elaborate joke type thing to welcome you into the friend group. 

Nat begins typing on your phone and you have half a mind to snatch it before she hits send. 

“Flirt with him from your own account.” You grumble deleting the very thirsty message she typed out. Replacing it with your own message. 

“You know what, maybe, I will.” She retrieves her own phone and looks at you expectantly.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Talk me up, be my wing woman.” Nat rolls her eyes at your lack of understanding.

“Unless you are interested in Mr. Falcon Wilson, so I’ll just message Mr. B Barnes.” She begins to laugh at your furious expression a possessiveness for Bucky taking over. 

“I—,”

“Just admit it, please. I can’t take the wills he won’t she tension anymore.” Natasha shakes her head bemused at your reluctance. 

“I would but what good is it? He’s all the way there and I’m here the friendship only works because its new and we respond during free time. Also I think he just wants to be friends. In six months will he still want to be my friend?” You explain sighing. 

“Please I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Nat has you face her and she grabs your hands. 

“He looks at you as if you hung the moon. You look at him as if he decorated the night sky with stars for you.” 

“Nat…” You feel a painful twinge of hope, painful because if it was the truth it would hurt because of the distance and if it was not the truth then it would just hurt per-say. 

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

i think i have someone in mind already to build and sit in the one fort with me or maybe two forts. undecided on the number of forts but i hope you appreciate the honesty. 

also if you are looking for someone to fly with, my best friend may be interested. She loves flying well commercial is all she has done but I bet you could catch her attention with your abilities. 

@.falcon_wilson: 

is she as beautiful of a soul as you are? cause bucky keeps singing your praises. 

You smile fondly reading about James speaking about you to them. You hadn’t yet called him Bucky, he never insisted and somehow you found when you took his name he had this sweet soft smile playing on his lips. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

Natasha is a sweetheart, I think you both will get along pretty well. 

if you do anything to hurt her i will find you and end you. i’ll tell James to end you before i get there but i will revive you just to end you again. 

( @.alianovna profile attached click to open) 

@.falcon_wilson:

yes ma’am, i will treat her with utmost respect.

also i’d like to see barnes try to hit me. lol.

“Oooooh he’s in my DMs.” Nat winks at you and begins typing. You roll your eyes at the glimmer in her eyes. 

You look down at your phone as it chimes. 

@.bbarnes:

why did you redirect Sam to Nat?

You frown, what was wrong in what you did?

@.watchingthemoonlight:

was i not supposed to? 

@.bbarnes:

no just, i thought you would be interested in him. you think they’d make a good pair?

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

i’m not, nat was mostly intrigued after he spoke about being able to fly a plane. 

@.bbarnes: 

so who gets to build blankie forts with you?

@.watchingthemoonlight:

Mr. Barnes, were you reading a private conversation? 

@.bbarnes:

of course he was scared about your threat so he asked me if you had given me a hitman mission already. 

You chuckle to yourself and then Nat lets out a high pitched sound. 

“Abs, babes, he has abs. A-B-S.” Nat turns to the picture she just received with a shirtless picture and you revert your eyes back to James and his message. 

“I’m sending him a little something. Be right back.” Nat grins and you wonder if you could ever have that kind of confidence. You shrug getting back to your conversation.

@.watchingthemoonlight:

yeah she just squealed at the picture he sent. if his reaction to her picture isn’t up to mark you have my permission to take him out.

@.bbarnes:

okay but we gotta delete evidence of you planning a hit on my friend. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

we also have to give you an alibi… video call me when you do it i’ll just say we were talking. 

@.bbarnes:

so do you want to watch the hit go down or are we just making alibis?

@.watchingthemoonlight:

do you want to ruin my innocence, James?

He takes a moment to reply and the innuendo you accidentally slipped in might have been the reason. You worry your bottom lip.

@.bbarnes:

no more crime shows for you. you scare me.

doll, you might be ruining my innocence.

@.watchingthemoonlight: 

steve isn’t the only meticulous planner you know, now. 

also i’m only kidding about Sam, however i will ask you to punch him from my side if he messes with Nat. 

maybe i am, maybe we both are.

@.bbarnes:

that punch i’ll let you watch. you know with ruining your innocence and all. 

@.watchingthemoonlight:

oh so now who should be not watching more crime shows?

Sam lets out an appreciative sound at what he sees on his phone and he runs off to his room. 

Steve and Bucky exchange a look and he updates you on Sam’s verbal appreciation of Natasha. 

“So when are you going to stop lying?” Steve says placing down their drinks as they sit now on the kitchen island. 

“What am I lying about?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh Buck come on, you have this lovesick look whenever you see her and she is the same whenever she looks at you.” Steve taps the table for emphasis. 

“Steve…” Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh, not this topic again.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You aren’t going to let a chance at being happy go. Not on my watch.” Steve warns him, snatching the phone from his hand and running off. 

“Steve give me my phone right now!” Bucky yells at him, grabbing a cylindrical hard pillow to throw at the man. The pillow hits him square in the back of his head and Steve hisses at the impact rubbing the spot, “You were a sniper years ago.”

“Training never leaves.” Bucky grins and grabs the phone back. 

“Why won’t you have happiness in your life man? Is it so bad to want to be with her?” Steve questions, brows furrowed and his blue eyes holding every bit of worry and concern for Bucky. 

The brunette sighs, “Look, I’m all the way here, she is all the way there. How is long distance supposed to work? We’re friends now so the distance and stuff doesn’t matter. When you’re a boyfriend and girlfriend that plays a profound role. What if she likes someone? Or there is guy who can be with her and appreciate her and cherish her?” 

“They wouldn’t hold a candle to you.” Steve affirms and Bucky just shakes his head and lets out a long exhale. 

“Steve, I like her yes, I really, really like her. If there is a chance she likes me too then that is great. However, I cannot half ass a relationship. She’s not deserving of that half-assery. She deserves so much more than I can give here being this far away.” Bucky admits as he looks down at his palm and then at his friend who has a familiar glint in his eyes. 

“What did you do?” Bucky questions, he stares down at the phone and it isn’t his. 

Steve holds up Bucky’s phone and sends the recording through to you and the two of them begin their cat and mouse game again. 

“She better not fucking hear that, Rogers! I can’t lose her!”

“You won’t lose her! You both will end up together!”

“How are you so sure huh? What if I get blocked?! You punk.” Bucky throws another pillow at Steve and he proceeds to catch it then throw it back on Bucky who dodges it. 

“You won’t! Nat and I confirmed with each other.” Those words make Bucky stop in his tracks and gape at Steve. 

“Look we just, she messaged me, about a month ago. Asking what your intentions are with Y/N. I said I’d know the intentions when Bucky would admit to having the very obvious crush. From there we knew you two are idiots who won’t admit shit out of fear of losing the other.”

“You—,” Bucky is cut off by an incoming FaceTime call from you that too an audio call. Bucky swallows and Steve answers the call, thrusting the phone into his palm. 

James raises the phone to his ear, neither of you say anything. 

Just two people breathing into the phone and then you let out a laugh. James can’t help but grin at the sound. 

“Are you thinking what I am?” You question him. 

“Yeah. We sound like the creepy horror movie trope of heavy breathing on the other line.” Bucky sits down on the floor. 

Steve gives him a weird look, confess feelings why is movie trope a topic right now! He wants to yell but only messages Natasha of the non sense. She is the only one with a braincell apart from him.

“Is, is, what you said on the voice note true?” You hold your breath, and your heart stays outstretched on the palm of your hand ready to offer it to James. 

“Depends on what voice note you’re talking about.” Bucky can’t help but deflect, his heart is begging to leap out of his chest and into your hands where he knows you will treasure it. He’s just so worried. 

“Hmm, let me see oh yes the one where you say you really really like me, also there is something about if I like you too and that would be great. So I’m here to tell you it is great then.” You admit and wait for him to catch on. 

“Doll… I, I please I know me confessing my feelings probably ruined—wait you said great.” Bucky can’t breathe, well he can but he can’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

“I said great.” You affirm, biting back your grin. 

Bucky switches it to a video call, he needed to see your face. 

“You said great?” He questions again, the most endearing look of happiness begins to overtake his features. 

“I did say great, James.” You repeat not able to contain your smile any longer. 

“You like me?” He question sounding breathless. 

“Buddy—,” “Shut up, Steve.”

You giggle and he looks back at you through the phone. 

“I really, really like you.” You confess and heat creeps across your skin. 

“I really, really like you.” Bucky confesses and you can make out the pink tinge dusting his cheeks. 

AN: happy pride!!!!!!! hope you enjoyed this chapter do let me know your thoughts on it!! thank you!

taglist is open! please comment or message to be tagged!

permanent tags: @stevesmewmew @pandaxnienke

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[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 14: The Spoils

CHAPTER SUMMARY: We've been going hard for 13 chapters. Let's slow down and enjoy something a little gentler.

I just want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone reading this fic. I still can't believe even one person reads my stories 💜 Thank you for your comments, your messages on social media, and your time. I know reading fics is a choice and I feel so deeply grateful for each and every one of you 💜

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

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CHAPTER 14: THE SPOILS

Jyn managed a few good hours of rest before she was paged to one of the ship’s ready-rooms. There she met with General Draven and Mon Mothma, handing over the data tape she’d confiscated from the IT-O interrogator droid. The Intelligence chiefs debriefed her, wanting to know every detail of Rogue One’s rescue mission, the state in which they found Andor, and if there was any cross-reference intel connected to Princess Leia’s presence on the Death Star. Jyn told them everything she knew, which wasn’t much. After she’d been dismissed but before she reached the exit, Mon Motha stopped her. The senator gestured to the data tape Draven was handing to an aide. “I’m afraid to watch it,” she said, her voice tense.

Jyn didn’t know how to reply so she remained silent.

“What can you tell me? To prepare myself?” Mothma’s tone remained quiet, as though she didn’t want others to overhear.

“I can’t really say. I didn’t look at the tape.” Erso set her teeth. “All I know is what I saw in person when we entered the cell where they were holding Cassian. If that’s anything to go by, I hope you have a strong stomach.”

Mothma’s piercing gaze narrowed and became troubled. “The horrors are endless,” she whispered under her breath. She straightened her shoulders, quickly recovering her poise. “When next you see Commander Andor, please pass on my wishes for his quick recovery.”

Jyn fought to tamp down the frustrating feeling that her Alliance cohorts did too, little too late for Cassian.

She left the ready-room and realized she didn’t know where to go next. For the first time she had nowhere to be. Just as she settled on getting herself a cup of coffee, her name came over the intercom once again, this time paging her to the medical ward. Worry hastened her step, fearing that Cassian had taken a turn for the worse.

The same 2-1B medical droid that had forced her to leave the day before met her in the corridor just outside the quarter. “Lieutenant Erso, thank you for coming. Please follow me.”

She had to hurry to keep up with the large machine as it rolled down the ward’s center aisle. They approached Cassian’s bed, which was surrounded by a heavy white curtain. The droid held it aside and allowed her to enter. Cassian was awake and looking brighter than he had the day before. He was surprised to see her. “Jyn, what are you doing here?”

She was a little taken aback by the situation. “I was paged.” Both rebels looked to the droid.

“I asked Lieutenant Erso here to assist with your treatment, Commander. I have observed your friendship and it is clear to me that you find her presence reassuring. I thought perhaps you would be more tolerant of the procedure with a friend to comfort you.”

Silence followed as the three of them looked back and forth, no one more confused than Jyn.

“Have I done wrong?” the droid finally ventured. “I realize now that perhaps Lieutenant Erso’s presence embarrasses you.”

Cassian’s gaze held Jyn’s for a long time before he softly replied, “I don’t feel embarrassed in front of Jyn.”

The corner of her mouth pulled up into a sheepish smile.

“Very good,” 2-1B said.

“What do you need me to do?” Jyn asked.

The droid spun to face her. “The Commander has a particularly trying wound on his left eye. Study of the laceration indicates it was made with a hot blade, is that correct, sir?”

Cassian swallowed thickly. “Yes.” His voice was hardly audible.

Jyn felt her blood grow cold. Every day she learned a new reason to hate the Empire.

“If the wound remains untreated, it may heal in a way that prevents the Commander’s eyelid from closing properly. The procedure is a fifteen to twenty minute acute bacta wash, but he finds the method unsettling. If you could simply be by his side, perhaps hold his hand or talk to him as a distraction, the time would pass more quickly. Can you do this?”

Jyn was surprised by the innocence of the request. “Of course.” She turned to Cassian and pointed to the bed. “Can I sit here?”

He shifted over, making room for her. “I’m sorry you had to be bothered with this.”

She pulled his hand into hers. “Don’t apologize to me.”

Once again, the droid lowered Cassian’s bed and began the procedure.

The man’s body instantly changed. When the bacta mist began he practically crippled Jyn’s hand and his chest visibly inflexed. She hadn’t known what to expect but she understood this was more serious than she originally thought. Pain wasn’t crushing Cassian; it was fear. Whatever Tarkin had done, the long-term injuries were more than skin deep. She placed her other hand in the center of his chest. “Breathe, Cassian,” she soothed. “Focus on my hand. Try and make it go up and down with your breath.” She saw his jaw muscles tighten as he tried to get himself under control. The veins in his neck began to show as all his muscles contracted. His reactions were intensifying, not reducing.

“2-1B?” Jyn asked softly. “Can you stop for a moment?”

“Of course.”

The mist ceased and she gently wiped the moisture from Cassian’s lashes with her thumb. “Look at me.” The blood had drained from his face; even his lips were pale. But he met her gaze. “You’re OK.” She waited for the panic to leave his eyes. “We’re almost done.” She laced her fingers between his and started massaging his palm. After a moment, she glanced down and suddenly froze, realizing his skin was covered in scars. “Does this hurt?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, it’s healed.”

She started up again. “I want you to put all your focus right here on where our fingers are touching.”

He nodded nervously before laying his head back and closing his eyes. With a look, Jyn told the droid to restart the treatment. Cassian’s grip tightened, but eventually he calmed down and loosened his hold. “That’s good,” Jyn encouraged. “Just keep your focus right here.” She continued massaging his fingers, palm, wrist, forearm. He began to ease into her touch. “Mon Mothma sends you well wishes,” she said casually.

Cassian snorted. “Oh really?”

“She hopes you have a ‘quick recovery.’”

“You have friends in high places now,” he teased, his voice betraying his tenseness. “General Syndula and Mon Mothma. You’re a regular VIP.”

“Yeah, you better watch out. Don’t cross me or I’ll have Mothma lecture you to death.”

Cassian actually smiled.

“We are done,” 2-1B interrupted. “Excellent work, both of you.”

The droid handed Jyn a towel that she used to dry Cassian’s eyes. As she wiped the bacta away she saw the gash had been reduced to a thin white line. “That’s remarkable,” she said in awe as she caressed the scar.

All Cassian could think about was how her thumb absentmindedly lingered over his lips.

“Yes, the wound will continue to heal over the next twenty-four hours. You’ll still have a mild scar, Commander, but at least now the burn will no longer tighten and disfigure your eyelid.”

“That’s wonderful news,” he replied darkly. Glancing at the droid he realized he had been rude. “Thank you for asking Jyn to help, 2-1B.” His tone was sincere. “It was a good idea.”

“You are most welcome. Now please get some rest. The doctors are planning to release you sometime very soon.”

“I suppose that means you want me to leave,” Jyn interjected.

“Yes, please, Lieutenant.”

Before she rose, she placed her hand on Cassian’s chest once more and gave him a reassuring pat.

He gripped her hand and held it in place, his expression serious. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She squeezed his fingers. “Happy to help.”

Then she got up and allowed the droid to lead her out.

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE INTERROGATION" - Cassian knew a debrief was a necessary evil.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 "The Spoils"

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

#cassian #cassian andor #andor #jyn #jyn erso #jyn erso fanfiction #jyn erso fic #jyn and cassian #cassian andor fic #cassian andor fanfiction #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain fanfic #rebelcaptain #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one #rogue one fic #mon mothma

[polarisgreenley]

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 11: "Amaryllis"

Floriography - Determination

Summary: Snippets of Artemis' second week of school - the good, the bad, and the nightmare.

[AO3]

Below is an excerpt of the chapter, full chapter can be viewed from the AO3 Link above!

“So, I heard that you’re quite the covert little thief.”

Artemis paused her quill as she lifted her head. Sebastian and Ominis had been doing their assigned Charms essay, and she her extra assignments, in relative silence for the past half hour in the tucked away corner of the library until Ominis broke the silence.

“Oh?” Artemis asked as she pointedly looked at Sebastian. He was the only source that could’ve possibly said anything to Ominis.

Sebastian had the audacity to give an innocent smile.

“Oh indeed. Something about a padlock and a cat? A traipse into the Re-”

“-Oi! Not so loud,” cut in Sebastian. Ominis rolled his eyes as his head tilted back toward her.

“Just hadn’t expected you to be so brazen already with the rules,” paused Ominis. “Well done.”

Artemis had opened her mouth to make a counterargument, only to shut it in the unexpected praise. In contrast, Sebastian’s jaw dropped.

“What? So I get scolded when I go, but Artie gets a compliment? I see how it is.”

Ominis snickered at his friend’s expense.

“She doesn’t barge into our room with erumpent stomps at two in the morning, Sebastian. Though I am curious as to what you could possibly need. You’ve been here less than two weeks.”

Artemis was saved from answering the question as a sneering voice came from her left.

“Well, who do we have here? All alone and – oh, Gaunt. Sallow.”

Their table was at a strange angle that provided blind spots – clearly, Alistair had thought she’d been alone. The change in his tone was drastic, as the moment he saw the two boys his demeanour completely changed.

Sebastian glared daggers and Ominis’ expression was a carefully controlled brand of neutral.

“Avery. Care to finish what you were saying?” Sebastian asked dangerously.

“No, no I think I’ll take my leave,” said Alistair diplomatically.

“Do,” said Ominis as he slowly turned. Alistair’s hand balled into a fist, glared at Artemis once before he stomped away.

“Git,” spat out Sebastian before he turned to Artemis. “How’d you have the misfortune of meeting him?”

“Poppy and I stopped him from pulling on Persephone’s whiskers,” answered Artemis.

“Still petty I see. Can’t believe he’s the same year as us,” sighed Ominis.

“He seemed intimidated.”

“He should. I’d gladly fry him crispy,” huffed Sebastian.

“More my last name than me,” corrected Ominis. He looked like he bit a bitter bug. “Descendant of Salazar Slytherin, my father being friends with the headmaster. The Gaunt name has its… uses, despite the unfortunate run of pureblood mania.”

Slytherin has a bunch of pureblood supremist bigots, not to mention families associated with the Dark Arts. The Malfoys, the Blacks, the Lestranges, the Gaunts.

“The headmaster has friends…?” Artemis asked instead, perplexed at the concept.

Sebastian choked on air as he quickly muffled his laughter into his elbow; Ominis’ shoulders shook as he controlled his. Madam Scribner gave the group a warning glance as she walked by on her patrol.

“Artie, did you hear back from your contact?” Sebastian asked after it was clear the librarian had left their vicinity.

“Contact?” Ominis asked, his head giving a slight jerk.

Artemis looked between Ominis and Sebastian; the brunet nodded as Artemis let out a soft breath.

“They said they’d need to review their contract for the finer details first,” said Artemis. She’d hoped Leto would have responded back before telling Sebastian, but alas. “But, tentatively yes.”

“Really?” Sebastian asked, his eyes brightened. In contrast, Ominis’ features darkened.

“Contract?” Ominis repeated back.

“Artie has a Healer contact in the Ministry. Said she’d reach out regarding Anne.”

“A Healer? Wait, you told her about Anne?”

“I was getting her a –” started Sebastian before he stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. “Never mind, yes, I told Artie about Anne.”

“Why?”

“She’s my sister, I can tell whomever I like.”

Ominis hummed, though his expression didn’t ease as he looked at Artemis.

“Rather generous of you,” said Ominis. His jaw was set.

“Ominis,” Sebastian started, surprised.

Ominis tilted his head toward her; Artemis’ heart sank. She’d not felt this since Chalvey. Palpable mistrust, clear suspicion.  

“So? Why are you helping?”

“Because I want to.”

She managed to keep her voice controlled. It was understandable, why he would be like this.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Because she didn’t want history to repeat itself… but nobody else needed to know that.

“You’re lying,” retorted Ominis. “What do you gain from this?”

Her throat tightened. Sebastian’s warm chocolate eyes hardened toward his best friend.

“Ominis, stop it -”

“- Is treating someone the way you wanted to be treated so unbelievable?”

The soft, wobbled words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.  She hadn’t intended to say that, not really.

Her hands moved quickly as both boys were stunned; Ominis’ eyebrows furrowed rather quickly afterward.

“Excuse me,” muttered Artemis as she pulled out her wand, the rest of her items haphazardly in her arms.  She muttered a quick disillusionment.

“Artie, wait!”

“Mr. Sallow! This is the library!”

Madam Scribner’s shrill warning rang loud behind her as she slunk away into the green floo flames.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #a bouquet of new beginnings #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #andrew larson #eleazar fig #aesop sharp #artemis loreley