#like they’re so easy and all muscle memory and hardly take any thought so I think I could function enough to fuck some people up for a bit

[seraphicalsuccubus]

oh no I smoked too much weed and gave myself zoomies both from the excitement from my new peak pro and the excitement from the new weed itself and def smoked way more than I should have and probs will continue to smoke more than I should because of this double dose of excitement until I finally just pass out after days of hardly sleeping recently lmao

but ANYWAYS before that happens !!! I currently have the strongest urge to go wreck people in fucking battlegrounds to level one of my assorted disc priests and because like …. ever since I got 100k honorable kills achieve, I’ve wanted that goddamn fucking ‘the Bloodthirsty’ title from the 250k honorable kills achieve and I was farming that before I stopped having the drive to game a few months back.

so let’s see how queues go at 2am on a fucking Wednesday morning, I wonder if I’ll give up before I find a bracket with fast pvp queues tonight tbh. it’s more likely I’ll end up pugging a raid on my mistweaver main if it takes too long to get into a battleground just to preoccupy myself for a bit and try to get a chance at trinkets and shit lmao

#this is huge tho I haven’t WANTED to game enough to drag my laptop out and play in MONTHS #I logged in for the first time in ages the other day and I had so much fun in my battlegrounds I didn’t even realize we were winning #I was just having a fucking blast being a healer and a menace because I’m playing a disc priest rn of course lmao #and now I want to game again so bad but like mindlessly and bgs are mindless to me I guess??? #like they’re so easy and all muscle memory and hardly take any thought so I think I could function enough to fuck some people up for a bit #or raiding Amirdrassil on LFR or normal. also pretty mindless even when pugging groups and all that. #everything’s usually one shot one kill or like 2 shots per kill max because people learn from their mistakes !!! #but like as a healer I know my shit so it’s just mindless (except for Larodar ((MY BELOVED)) because I LOVE that fight and get super into it #his dialogue is just too fuckin good and the voice??? truly chefs kiss like perfect voice casting #almost as fantastic as Sire Denathrius tbh and that’s like the big vocally satisfying one for me LMAO #this tag rant went on a wild roller coaster what the fuck I am so sorry for anyone who read these #I’m trying to read them back and I can’t even understand my fucking thought process LMFAO

[elowenp]

“What do you want?” Barbara asks, voice crackling with static.

It’s a silly question. Tim wants crime rates to go down. Tim wants Gotham to be a safer city. Tim wants to be a part of making that happen.

“A code name that isn’t stupid.” he says instead.

Barbara sighs. It doesn’t sound like a sigh though. It just sounds like the static’s getting louder.

~

“Bernard Dowd, scholar of the ages.” Tim laughs, arm slung round Bernard's shoulder. “I thought you were meant to be the fun one?”

“I am.” Bernard groans, “as soon as these exams are done I’ll be back to the usual student life. Getting drunk, going on dates, Gotham won’t know what’s hit it.”

“Going on dates?” Tim asks jokingly, even as a well hidden part of him turns slightly panicked. “Any successes an old friend should be hearing about?”

“Not really.” Bernard shrugs, jostling Tim’s arm. “Just a couple of girls I was better off friends with.” He pauses, thinking, before continuing with his voice involuntarily going a little higher. “Couple of guys too.”

“Huh.” Tim suddenly becomes very aware of all the places where his arm is touching Bernard. He doesn’t move it. “Better luck next time.”

Huh.

~

Tim’s been avoiding Dick. He’s been awkward around him lately, Tim thinks that Barbara must have said something. He’s not stupid enough to have done something to send Dick spiralling without noticing it.

“What do you want?” Dick asks, curious, without warning.

Tim wants to ask if Barbara put him up to this but he knows it’s a genuine question. Dick isn’t manipulative like that, not with family.

What does Tim want? Isn’t it a little late for Dick go be asking that question? All the things that happened after Bruce’s death put a canyon of distance between them. It’s slowly been growing smaller but it hasn’t disappeared. Neither of them have had time enough to spend together for that to happen.

An awful, bitter part of Tim that hasn’t stopped screaming since Robin wasn’t his any more wonders if Dick would even be asking if Damian wasn’t out of town right now.

“For us to go train surfing.” Tim says. Petty. Just so Dick will say no and his anger can feel righteous instead of ill-deserved.

“Okay.” Dick says instead. Easy and confident. Himself.

“Oh.” Tim’s anger fizzles into non-existence. “Okay.”

The canyon grows a little smaller.

~

“We should go to a skatepark.” Bernard says, a little giggly from the beer in his hand.

There’s a matching beer in Tim’s hand although it’s still practically full. If there’s an emergency he’ll be of no use drunk. “What? Why?”

“Why not? You were so good in high school! And you had fun doing it.” Bernard’s tone turns a little less giggly. “You should do more things you find fun.”

Tim is surprised enough that the “Okay.” slips out of his lips unbidden.

So maybe the beer bottle is a little less full than he’d like to admit.

They borrow a board from one of Bernard's flatmates and catch a bus to a skate park Tim remembers using when he was younger. As they go Tim tries to remember why he stopped. He tries to remember when he stopped. He can’t recall the answer to either question and annoyance rises in his chest over it.

Then Bernard is saying something and it has Tim snorting with laughter and he forgets his irritation.

Once they arrive Bernard settles himself at the top of one of the ramps like it’s a throne. “Entertain me!” he calls, “Impress me with your wheel-board magic.

Tim manages a kick-flip on his first attempt and Bernard makes a loud noise of approval.

A lot of stuff comes back to Tim fairly quickly. Most of skateboarding had been muscle memory for him and that’s something that being a vigilante hadn’t exactly hindered. As things return to him he regains some faint memories of why he’d stopped. Nothing specific, just that feeling of not having enough time. Of thinking that going to the skatepark wasn’t a particularly useful way to spend his hours while there was still real work to be done.

Tim’s always been a vigilante first, but he thinks there must have been a point when that wasn’t the only thing he was. Well, when it wasn’t the only thing he was that mattered.

“Come on!” Bernard shouts, teeth flashing white against Gotham’s grey-black sky. “I was promised entertainment!”

Tim laughs. He seems to do that a lot around Bernard these days.

He starts moving on the skateboard, deciding to leave the existentialism for another day.

~

First Dick and now Bruce. Tim’s family has really been making a habit of being weird around him lately.

He would normally think that the Bruce was worried about him, that Dick had passed along some bullshit about his mental health and Bruce was practicing some silent vigil. The problem with that theory is that Tim’s been getting better recently, so there wouldn’t be much point. At least he thinks he’s been getting better. It’s difficult to tell sometimes.

Bruce has definitely been acting weird around him though, so maybe he isn’t getting better. Maybe Bruce spotted something Tim didn’t and he’s on the road to insanity.

“What do you want?” Bruce asks one day as they’re both working in the cave. Not Batman. Bruce.

It’s a far stupider question than it was when Barbara or Dick asked it. Bruce is the person who made Tim’s desires what they are. He’s the one who took Tim’s obsession and carved it into a goal.

“What?” Tim asks, loud and confused and maybe a little angry. “What do you mean ‘what do I want���? I want the mission! What else am I supposed to want?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment and Tim imagines him turning the words over in his head. “Nothing else?” Bruce asks. He sounds sad and it makes the anger drain from Tim’s body. “Just the mission?”

“I don’t need anything else.” Tim says hollowly.

Bruce just nods, thinking. It makes Tim want to scream even as satisfaction rises in his chest.

It’s always been a point of pride that he can to lie to Batman. He’s hardly going to change his mind about that now.

~

“People keep asking me what I want.” Tim says, sat on Bernard's bed. “I don’t like it.”

Bernard's turns away from the laptop on his desk so he can look at Tim. “You ever tell them the truth?”

Tim shrugs. He isn’t sure what else to do. “Ish?”

Bernard smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re impossible, Tim Drake?”

“Only everyone I’ve ever met.”

Bernard barks out a laugh before sobering up and looking at Tim with ill-disguised curiosity. “Do you want to tell me the truth about it? Or did you just want to say the thing out loud?”

“I’m not sure.” Tim admits, and he has to stop himself from acting taken aback by the fact he actually said that. Tim never says when he’s uncertain. There isn’t room for it. Bernard must know that too because he looks at Tim in surprise, then scoots his chair closer to the bed so that he and Tim are almost touching.

Bernard looks very cautious. “You know that’s okay, right?”

“I-“ Tim starts, because is it? Is uncertainty the kind of luxury he can afford? “I want to want things. But it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“How do you-“

Bernard smiles knowingly. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Tim. Well you are. But it’s not difficult to tell that some bad things must have happened since I last saw you.”

“Yeah.” Tim says hoarsely, thinking back to the burn of his muscles as he dug up Kon’s grave, the stinging of desert sand in his eyes, the moment of confusion when he woke up in a league of assassins base unsure if he’d had to die to get there. “Yeah. Bad things happened.” He shakes himself a little, because those aren’t the thoughts he wants lingering. He focuses back on Bernard who’s closer than Tim had realised, worry creased between his eyes. “What about you?” Tim asks, trying to exert some measure of control over the conversation. “What do you want?”

“Thought we were talking about you?” Tim might have let it go with that if not for the note of nervousness in Bernard's voice and the red creeping up the back of his neck.

“We can talk about both of us.”

“It’s not important right now.”

Tim reaches out then. He takes Bernard's hand in his because Bernard makes him laugh and he looks so nervous and Tim wants to. Bernard looks down at their hands in surprise and Tim doesn’t actually feel worried. Just expectant that Bernard is going to squeeze their fingers together more securely. He does. “You sure?” Tim asks.

Bernard just looks at him. Mouth parted with shock. He seems to come back to himself though and his expression of surprise turns into something more confident. More familiar. “What if I wanted you?” he asks, hesitancy and confidence rolled into one voice.

“Give me some time to remember how to want things, and I think I’ll want that too.” Tim replies, just as unsure and utterly certain.

Bernard tangles their fingers together a little more firmly in response and Tim feels more hopeful than he has in a long time.

#SO URBAN LEGENDS HUH?? #if dc say sike rn I am going to take that as a hate crime against me PERSONALLY #dc #dc fandom #batman #writing #fic rec #batman fic rec #tim drake #bernard dowd #red robin #timber #urban legends #batman urban legends #ngl i might clean this up and expand on it a bit and put it on ao3 #all the sections were meant to be as short as barbara's lmao #i'm so bad at writing romance i couldn't even get them to kiss #i quite liked how the other parts turned out though?? idk

[aminiatureworld]

Injury II

Characters: Kaeya, Ningguang, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,650

Warnings: Various injuries, blood, burns, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Okay so after the mind numbing fear of my computer almost dying and now maybe emitting a weird smell I’m five seconds away from pure panic. But the show much go on! Even if my word document keeps blacking out.

This is my first time writing for Ningguang! I hope I do my girl justice, she’s voiced by my fav VA, she’s a total powerhouse, I love her so much. 

I tried to make all of the injuries personal to each character in some way. Funny enough Zhongli’s was the hardest to figure out. I eventually settled upon the act of you being injured causing Zhongli’s personal angst, rather than the cause of the injury. I hope it came out well!

Kaeya

Kaeya didn’t often let himself fall into fear. Not since he’d been young did he feel that he could indulge in such a sentiment. True to his vision he’d frozen that part of himself, and now when panic seized him he could feel nothing but stone cold determination, and the need to continue forward without hesitation. Fear was hardly alien to him, he could conjure up the emotion all too well, but it had been dulled and replaced by cynicism and coldness. And occasionally guilt.

Looking back on it Kaeya wasn’t even sure why the two of you had strayed so close to Dragonspine, so close snowflakes were congregating in your hair.

You’d called him a winter fairy in jest at the time, wondering if he wasn’t truly the ruler of that mountain of frost. He’d laughed then, before threatening to take you away to his fairy court. “That would be quite an easy task.” You’d replied. “You’ve already captured my heart after all.”

The two of you were strolling on the rocks that lined the river which separated Dragonspine from the greater Monstadt area. Although adventurers usually roamed the area in the daytime it was now evening, and the lack of people certainly made up for the cold in Kaeya’s mind. He could only be his true self around you after all. Otherwise it was the charming and slick Cavalry Captain, a man who always knew what to say and never harbored any doubts in his mind. Not that he wasn’t still charming around you, he loved seeing you blush from his effusive praise, loved the way you buried your head in his shoulder if the flirting and the teasing ramped up enough. But there was a sincerity to his words that one couldn’t find normally in Kaeya, and he loved to show you bits and pieces of his soul, relieved to finally have someone to talk to.

“Watch your step.” You warned, grabbing onto Kaeya’s hand as he slid a little ways along a rock.

“Thank you darling, although I daresay I’m more worried about you. After all who’s the snow fairy here and who’s the wind sprite, liable to blow away at any moment?”

“So cheesy.” You mumbled, shaking your head, though Kaeya could’ve sworn your cheeks were slightly redder than they were a few moments ago. Laughing he wrapped his arm around your waist. You snuggled into his fur lined coat. “Cold.” You murmured, though you made no move to disconnect yourself. Kaeya smiled and brought his other hand around you in a soft embrace.

“Sorry my dearest, but you’re in love with an icicle.”

“Only terms of magic.” You shot back. “Otherwise you’re a nice warm fire. And don’t you forget that.”

The two of you headed a little ways down, closer to the river. A small group of frost flowers had made it to this side of the banks, and you were adamant on picking some. “They’re so beautiful!” You explained to Kaeya. “And incredibly strong, I can’t believe they managed to grow in that permafrost. They’re simply lovely.”

“Just be careful.” Kaeya commented, standing a little ways back. He didn’t like getting near the river, a river so cold it was always at nearly freezing at the bottom. Cold water and a vision of Cryo didn’t mix well.

“I’ll be fine.” You hopped to your feet, a bouquet of pale blue in your hand. You were smiling from your victory, face full of light and happiness.

It was an expression that changed swiftly as you lost your balance and plummeted into the freezing waters.

Immediately Kaeya leapt down from the rocks he was standing on, kneeling near where you were standing a moment ago. The river wasn’t very fast, bogged down by its width and how far it was away from the waterfalls in the warmer parts of Monstadt. Still it cut off very quickly, having barely the semblance of a beach before opening into a deep chasm, and anyone who fell in it would quickly fall into cold shock. Already your limbs had started seizing, and you were hyperventilating hard. Your arms felt like dead weight, and every second that passed your head dipped lower into the freezing water.

Kaeya gingerly put his hand out to make a platform of ice for him to stand on. Whatever happened he couldn’t fall in as well, it would mean the death of you two. Fear had reared its ugly head again and Kaeya twisted those feelings into action. No matter what he had to act fast and sure. Hesitation was fatal.

Plunging his hand into the water, sucking in a deep breath as the ice that still coated his palms and fingers made contact with the freezing river Kaeya hauled you up onto the icy platform. Taking off his coat he wrapped you up. Removing your gloves so the frozen water wouldn’t be in contact with your already freezing skin Kaeya cursed as he ran towards Springvale, the nearest place he could think of. He’d lugged you onto his back, and could feel the freezing water through his shirt. As he ran he kept up a stream of slightly shaky conversation, rattling off what little he knew of hypothermia.

“It’ll be alright darling, I promise it’ll be alright. You’re just going through shock right now, okay? You’ll be alright, I promise. Just stay awake a little while longer. I know you must be tired from all that excitement, but just stay awake a little longer, just a little longer and then you’ll be nice and warm, just stay awake right now okay?” His voice became more and more desperate as his fear started to tumble out of his grasp, but he kept moving. He wouldn’t lose control of himself now, not until you were safe.

Finally he arrived at Springvale and you’d been rushed to the village doctor. Kaeya was told to go and wait somewhere else, and preferably change out of his freezing cold shirt, but you’d grabbed his hand as he turned to leave and after that he refused to budge, instead borrowing a shirt from the village. He’d reimburse the people who let you two borrow their clothes later.

The entire process was a terrifying one, as you were slowly brought back to warmth. Kaeya took the opportunity to learn as much as he could, noting that you shouldn’t massage limbs back to warmth for fear of heart attack and – much to his chagrin he later joked when the situation was far enough in the past – alcohol was too much of a depressant on your system and could lead to death. All throughout he kept talking to you, even though there were times you didn’t seem to hear, times when he thought his heart would split in two.

Still it was evident you were going to survive and when you’d finally finished being warmed up Kaeya thought he could cry in relief, if only he’d been numbed from such an act for so many years. You’d run into some sort of rock in the water, and the long gash down the side of your leg was later determined by the doctor to reveal torn muscle. It’d take about a month and a half for you to recover. Kaeya thought he should’ve felt worse about it, but in the moment he felt nothing but relief, utter relief in the knowledge you were going to be fine. Utter relief that came with having almost lost you.

Kaeya had carried you back to Monstadt, much to your consternation. All the ways back you mumbled about how his penchant for drama seemed to have increased tenfold. Kaeya simply shook his head, not bothering to ask how you would’ve gotten back otherwise with your leg in the shape it was. Still it was a relief to both of you to see the city walls. Even more of a relief when you finally arrived home, safe and sound.

“I’m so glad you were there.” You confessed as Kaeya sat you down on the couch, propping up your leg and pulling a chair up next to you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done had I fallen and you weren’t there.”

“You probably wouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Kaeya remarked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into it slightly, grateful for the contact between you two. It’d been hours but the panic that he’d felt still tugged at his consciousness, as if any moment you might slip away again and leave him panicked and alone.

“Were you afraid?” You asked.

“Of course I was afraid.” Kaeya’s reply came swift and sure. “I was terrified, terrified in a way that I haven’t been in years.” Kaeya’s eyes clouded over, as if reaching deep into his memories. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then your palm. “I thought that you might die, and in that moment I was ready to curse the world all over again.”

“But I didn’t die.” You said solemnly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“And that’s because of you. Because you reacted quickly, because you had the magic with which to do so, and most of all because you never hesitated. And because of that I’m alive and well now. Injuries aside I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Kaeya knew you were right. You were alive. You weren’t going to go where he couldn’t follow. The fear coiling in his stomach began to subside. He’d been so afraid, yes, and in that fear he’d managed to find the strength and determination to save you. But now you were safe and he no longer needed to rely on that strength; he could give into his relief. Realizing this, realizing how frightened he’d been and how that was now part of a past he could move forward from, could truly forget, Kaeya could only marvel at his relief. Only then did the tears begin to fall.

 Ningguang

If there was one thing Ningguang wasn’t expecting out of today it was your leg collapsing and her winding up in the waiting room of the Liyue hospital, mind replaying the last week or so, wondering where she might’ve realized something was wrong.

It seemed like the kind of thing Keqing would make a joke about. Here Ningguang was, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, the most powerful woman in the trade capital of Liyue; here she was, her world completely gone awry, completely shattered by your injury.

A stress fracture, the doctor had said. It was the kind of injury that developed slowly and came about after weeks instead of in moments. The initial strain was usually something mundane, a sprain, a bruise, maybe you’d walked on your foot for too long. But after sometimes weeks of ignoring pain and swelling your body couldn’t take it any longer. Ten weeks, that’s how long you would be laid up. And Ningguang couldn’t help but feel every one of those ten weeks was her fault.

She should’ve noticed it. That train of thought continued all throughout the process of you being treated at, and eventually discharged from, the hospital. You weren’t just one of the people she worked with daily, weren’t just her closest colleague. You were the person that Ningguang loved more than anything in this world. How could she possibly not have noticed the signs?

Ningguang found herself obsessively trying to connect the warning signs that must’ve been there. She knew that your foot had been aching for some time, but though she’d been vaguely concerned she’d said nothing other than a simple “be careful”. She’d never thought to check after you later, sure that it was nothing. Now she felt nothing but shame, both that of a personal and of a greater kind. How could she manage looking after all of Liyue if she couldn’t even look after you?

You noticed Ningguang’s silence as you two made your way out of the hospital and towards the apartment you shared. Although Ningguang was perhaps seen as a reticent individual you’d found her surprisingly open, always ready to discuss things that were of interest either to you or to her. She wasn’t the kind of person to walk along in silence; not when she was around those that she cared for, not unless she was thinking about something important, not unless…

Finally you two arrived home. You collapsed on the couch, tired and ready to either read or nap. Ningguang was preparing some tea and a various array of fruit, not that there was much food in the lavish apartment you two shared. Considering the workload between the both of you it was perhaps unsurprising that there was nothing much to eat. That would have to change, Ningguang noted; she’d make sure that you were recovering in the most comfortable way possible. It was the least she could do.

“Are you feeling well?” Ningguang asked, placing the food and tea on the table in your room. You nodded.

“I feel fine, although I’m not looking forward to the walk to the Qixing headquarters. I have to admit dear this might be the only time I’m a bit glad that I don’t have to make my way to the Jade Chamber every day.” Ningguang smiled at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She sat silently, sipping her tea slowly. Your expression clouded over. “Hey, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s nothing my love.” Ningguang spoke up quickly, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek. “I’m just sorry to see you like this.”

“Well you can’t blame yourself. You know that, right?”

Ningguang found she couldn’t bring herself to lie to you. Your gaze, though soft, seemed to pierce right through all her excuses and all her bluffing. She sighed softly. Maybe it would be better to be upfront about it, clear and concise, how one should always be. At least then she could apologize properly.

“In truth I do blame myself. I can’t believe I was so neglectful of your health, so blind to your pain.” She shook her head, staring at the hand that was holding yours. A disconnected part of her thought of how well the two fit together, fingers intertwined softly, your palm warm and comforting.

“If you were blind to this then so was I.” You spoke softly but firmly, refusing to sugar coat your words. Ningguang admired you for it, even if she didn’t believe you, something painfully clear in the expression on her face. “You cannot blame yourself.” You continued, “I won’t let you. I don’t want you beating yourself up for something that neither of us predicted. If you feel the need to blame yourself for this you must also blame me; I was the one walking on the injury without paying enough attention.”

“But – ” Ningguang paused, realizing the truth behind your words, slouching slightly she sat in deep thought. “I… I realize there’s not a lot of logic behind my thinking.”

“Well feelings are hardly logical.” You pointed out, squeezing her hand. “And because they’re illogical they don’t go away quickly. But I at least want you to try and combat your guilt with what I’ve told you. Because just like you hate seeing me in this cast I hate seeing you in pain.”

Ningguang nodded, heart filled with a deep sense of love and tenderness. Leaning over to give you a kiss she smiled softly. You did too. For a moment you two basked in each other’s presence and happiness, before you smile turned mischievous.

“Although… I won’t object to a little pampering.” Ningguang chuckled, shaking her head. But her smile was real this time, and you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

“You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I know I am.” You replied. “And you’re lucky I adore you.”

“I am.” Ningguang’s reply was just as sure, was full of quiet but strong emotion. She was lucky. And she would never take you or your love for granted. No matter what.

 Xiao

By the time he’d met you Xiao had long come to the conclusion that he’d never find it in him to like humans.

Humans were dirty, they were untrustworthy and full of darkness, they broke things without thinking about it, mangled their own people, their own families and friends and countrymen. Humans slaughtered one another without thinking of how it might stain them, and when they weren’t killing they were stealing and lying and ruining the land around them. How could he, a being designed solely to destroy the darkness in the world, ever find in himself the will or the ability to look past all that?

When he’d met you and had fallen in love in earnest this view had still changed ultimately very little. But even if you’d admitted that what he said was mostly true, you’d found that you still wanted him to learn to care at least a little bit about humanity. I mean you were ultimately one of them at your core. It didn’t feel right to prop yourself up as the one great exception, not when there were other people who were certainly like you in mind and in morality. Xiao silently disagreed with this analysis; to him there never was and never would be someone like you, in all of Teyvat. Still, he felt compelled to try, though  more for your sake than for his, and as the weeks had gone on he’d begun to look at humanity not with any sort of respect or hope but with a sort of begrudging curiosity, and an admittance that maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of that light you saw in it.

What a fool he’d been.

Although Xiao was aware of the growing threat of treasure hoarders across Liyue – so widespread that they’d even managed to eat away at the tranquil lands surrounding Jueyen Karst – he’d never considered them a serious threat. So when the two of you accidentally ran into a group of them while exploring some of the older Liyue ruins Xiao didn’t bother to do much more than wrap an arm around your waist, sure that even the most idiotic of treasure hoarders wouldn’t be so foolish as to pick a fight with either an adeptus or their beloved. You seemed unfazed at any rate, explaining that the two of you were simply passing by and had no desire to pick a fight; if they’d be so kind the two of you would be on your way.

Perhaps the treasure hoarders were well aware of the fact that you could report them to the Liyue Qixing. Perhaps they were simply in a bad mood. Either way your words apparently did nothing. Xiao was becoming tenser and tenser, feeling as if something catastrophic was about to happen. That moment came to pass when one of the treasure hoarders pulled out a knife and threw it, lodging itself with deadly accuracy into your torso.

At that point Xiao felt himself overcome with a supernatural sort of calm, a calm which raced to cover up the anguish and rage that was coursing through him, threatening to burn him from the inside out. He only paused to make sure you didn’t hit the ground hard, before summoning his spear. Ignoring the cries of the treasure hoarders he made quick work of disposing of them, for what was a measly human, a piece of trash, when compared to that which had slayed countless demons? A small part of him cried out against the act, pointing out the fact that every time he wielded his polearm to kill it might bring him closer to the precipice, the fact that you were hurt mattered more than revenge, the fact that he was going to regret killing in front of you. He ignored it. At that moment there was nothing in his mind, it was as empty and staid as a clear pool of water. The only ripple in it was the way you’d jolted back in surprised, and the way you’d let out a cry before crumpling.

Xiao didn’t look back to see the havoc he’d wreaked. Instead he ran to your side. Peeling off his gloves, worried that they might bring infection, he pressed his bare hands to your wound, desperately trying to staunch the blood that was spilling out, ignoring the shocks that jolted through his hands, the result of the dagger somehow being infused with electro. The feeling of blood, your blood, beneath his fingers was nauseating, and for a moment Xiao felt his head filling with static as the pure panic that he’d felt began to overcome the initial rush of adrenaline. Snapping out of it when you let out a groan of pain Xiao looked into your eyes. They were clouded, and for a moment the adeptus was afraid you might be on the verge of passing out – had you really lost so much blood? Holding you tightly, one hand never leaving your wound, Xiao summoned a burst of air. His thoughts were still too chaotic to be processed, there was only one thing connecting them all. Let them live. If there’s any justice in this world, please let them live.

Verr Goldet had grasped the situation as soon as she saw Xiao appear on the balcony, face contorted in fear. Taking you to her room, she’d instructed Xiao to get one of the doctors from Liyue while she and the resident apothecary took care of you. Xiao did the task without thinking, and once he’d arrived with the doctor he refused to leave your side. Xiao knew death better than most adepti, certainly more than most humans. It was cold and unfeeling, and had a nasty habit of leaping onto people when they least expected it. It didn’t matter to him that all three, Goldet, the apothecary, and the doctor, said that you would be fine; Xiao was going to be there the entire time.

Eventually you managed to rouse yourself from the pain induced stupor, and when you did you saw Xiao first, eyes wide with fear and relief, tears threatening to spill down his face.

In the end you’d been lucky. Although the dagger had ruptured your spleen Xiao had acted quickly enough to avert catastrophe. You were going to survive, though it’d be 12 weeks most likely until you were completely recovered. The moment of crisis having passed the two of you were finally given a moment alone.

“Are you alright?” Xiao immediately asked. You didn’t make a move to answer, instead cupping Xiao’s cheek before moving to take his hand. At that moment how Xiao remembered. Oh; the blood. Quickly moving away he ran to the nearest basin of water, scrubbing furiously. As the water turned red a faint smell of iron filled the air; it was the most disgusting thing Xiao had ever smelt, and he scrubbed even harder. You waited silently as he finished cleaning his hands and disposing of the water. Finally he came back to sit next to you, still hesitating a moment before placing his palm in yours.

“I… I don’t understand how you could ever like humans.” That was the first thing Xiao could think of. “They betrayed you. Without even blinking. That man, all those men and women, they would’ve ended your life without even thinking about it. They would’ve killed you and lived without ever having such a thing weigh on their conscience. Humans never think about the weight of their sins. They just keep committing atrocities.”

“And what about you, Xiao. Will their deaths weigh on you?”

“As much as all the others.” Xiao wished he could be matter of fact about it, but he found that trait of his had somehow disappeared. Instead an emotion washed over him, so unfamiliar and unexplainable it seemed to choke him. “Perhaps more.” He managed to get out, before beginning to cry in earnest.

You would’ve died. If he hadn’t been there you would’ve died. For you he gladly shouldered the weight of human life, would do so again and again if only to ensure your safety. And yet it was such a heavy weight, and no matter how many Xiao killed it wouldn’t heal you.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. You shook your head.

“Xiao I always knew that you weren’t going to be able to see humans as I see them immediately. And I know that you have a relationship with death and killing that most humans, most beings, will never have. I’m not going to blame you, nor will I turn on you. I cannot pretend that what happened didn’t make me angry. In retrospect it made me incredibly angry. It’s also true that – had you not been there – I would’ve raised my own weapon in self-defense. But now I’m going to ask you for one thing, and one thing only.”

“What?”

“Help me recover. Help me recover and let me help you recover. If there’s one thing I don’t want to happen now it’s for you to turn away from me and from everyone else, to let yourself be consumed. I want you to have somewhere you can let your feelings exist, and I want somewhere I can feel happy and comfortable as myself. You make me feel that way, so even if it’s selfish I don’t want you to turn away. And I don’t want you to grieve for me. Injured as I may be I’m not dead.” There was a pause as you let yourself catch your breath, having gotten more and more excited as you went on. “I realize that’s more than one thing.” You concluded, a bit sheepish.

Xiao said nothing for a while before leaning towards you. “May I?” He whispered. You nodded and Xiao pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t one of fire or passion. It was different, defined within the parameters of fear and relief, there seemed to be a sort of desperation in it, yet it was surprisingly sedate. Pulling away Xiao buried his face in your neck, careful to make sure he wasn’t touching where you’d been stabbed.

“I will. I promise.” He whispered. You nodded, smiling softly. But Xiao couldn’t bring himself to smile, not just yet.

Xiao couldn’t understand humans. They were dirty and cruel and lived without fear of consequences. Their actions haunted him and he found them easier to hate than to understand. But for you he’d try, because to him there was one thing strong than all, strong than fear, stronger than mistrust, stronger than hatred.

And that was the love he held for you.

 Zhongli

If there was one thing Zhongli hadn’t been prepared for when it came to falling in love with humans it was their combination of fragility and utter ignorance to said fragility.

One of Zhongli’s favorite things to do was to simply sit and listen to you talk about your life. Humans fascinated Zhongli, it was one of the reasons he’d ultimately given up his place as Rex Lapis; inside him lived a desire to interact with humanity in a more intimate way, to know what made people behave as they did and to perhaps grow closer to them in the process.

But despite all that he still wasn’t ready for the utter fear he felt when listening to the stories of you getting hurt. You’d laughed off scrapes and bruises and fractures. The time you’d accidentally ripped off your nail was a painful yet funny anecdote, and the fact that you’d fractured your kneecap as a child was something you now looked back on with an odd sense of nostalgia.

Zhongli didn’t understand why these stories frightened him on such a visceral level. Such injuries were nothing to gods and adepti. Although the idea of a broken bone was certainly an irritation there was nothing more in it, and the kind of injuries that could easily kill humans would to Zhongli be the kind of thing that would be unpleasant for its novelty, not for its potential fatality.

He didn’t bring up these thoughts to you, feeling as if they’d somehow place an undue burden on you, or perhaps he was afraid you’d stop telling him about yourself. Still it lurked at the back of his mind, the fear of what might happen to you.

The fears that Zhongli harbored were proven in the most mundane, and thus most poignant, way. The two of you had been preparing a meal when suddenly you’d stumbled on an uneven part of the floor. Reaching your hands out to steady yourself your arm had landed flat on the hot stove, the stove which had been heating up for the past fifteen or so minutes. The scream that you let out sent a shock through Zhongli which shook him to his core. It rang through his ears incessantly, a terrifying reminder of how breakable humans were.

You’d immediately yanked your arm off from the stove but the sight that met both his and your eyes was a ghastly one. The skin on your arm was charred various colors, white blisters mixed with black flaky skin, all outlined in a terrible circle of red. You were shaking, and you face had turned a frightful ashen color. Springing into action Zhongli wracked his brain for all he could remember about burns. If the burn is serious enough go to the hospital. Never try to treat intense burns yourself as the burning has gone deeper than the initial layer of skin, raise your burn above your heart. Go to the hospital. Slinging your arm around his shoulder so that it was raised, whisper soft words of reassurance as you let out a shriek of pain, Zhongli half walked half carried you to the hospital, all while the same thought was running through his head.

How fragile humans are.

The doctors had insisted you stay overnight. Apparently the burn was bad enough to require surgery. Zhongli’s stomach had dropped as he was told that, but he managed to nod in response. Walking back home Zhongli felt all in a daze. He barely made it in the door before he collapsed, fear having seeped the energy out of him. The world pressed down on him, heavier than it’d ever been before. At least you’d be okay, he reminded himself. If he had anything to cling to at least he had that.

Zhongli was the first visitor to arrive at the hospital, having given Hu Tao the run of the funeral home as he spent as much time as possible with you. You were well enough, although a bit bogged down from the painkillers you’d been given. You’d once offhandedly commented that although magic infused medicine tended to be safer for the patient – more successful and less addictive – it was also more powerful; now Zhongli could see you weren’t kidding.

Your burn was wrapped up carefully, the doctors had managed to take the charred skin of, you’d explain, but now the burn had to be treated with the utmost care until the surgery later in the afternoon, infection was no joke.

“Well this’ll certainly be an interesting anecdote.” You let out half a laugh. “Not that I’m happy this happened, but at least this will shut up the next person who complains about how cardio was the most painful thing they’ve experienced.”

“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about it.” Zhongli replied, tone soft and introspective. “It seems to terrifying to me, how easily humans are hurt.”

“Hey, I’ll be fine.” You assured him, voice soft but firm. “I understand how to adepti and archons and gods this might be terrifying. I’d be the first to admit we can’t really keep up with you in terms of pure healing and resistance to injury. But we’ve continued on this far haven’t we?” You smiled softly. “I promise I’m not about to die from something like a kitchen accident.”

“But what if next time it’s not your arm?” Zhongli replied. “What if it’s your neck or your chest? What if you cut yourself too deeply, what if your cut becomes infected. There are so many things I haven’t thought about until now, so many things that could hurt you. It frightens me terribly.”

“I’m very grateful that you’re worrying for me like this. But Zhongli?” You waited for his eyes to meet yours, smiling once more when he faced you. “You cannot be consumed by your anxiety. Believe me humans worry about these kinds of things. What if I tripped and fell and broke my neck, what if I scratched myself and developed and infection, what if I choked on an apple? These fears live with us, sometimes constantly, but we cannot let them consume us. As much as I’m flattered and glad you care for my wellbeing so much, I also don’t want you consumed by it, nor do I want to be treated like glass.”

“I cannot understand how you’re so resilient.” Zhongli replied after a short pause. You shrugged.

“We are because we must be.”

Zhongli knew in his heart that these fears he harbored weren’t going to go away. He knew that they were going to become more and more apparent through the month of your initial recovery, and through the longer period too as scar tissue formed and subsided.

Humans were indeed fragile. But if there was one thing stronger than said fragility it was their even greater determination to supersede it. Humans may be fragile in body, but they were stronger in spirit even than the gods.

That was something Zhongli wasn’t going to forget. Not for a very long time.

#my computer's about to die but this was totally worth it #also I never want to learn that much about burns again oof #tonight was wild #also I love ningguang so much aaa #kaeya #ningguang #xiao #zhongli #kaeya x reader #ningguang x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

[ifmywishescametrue]

"You didn't deserve that... You deserve so much better." for buckytony pls 🤓

thank you for sending one! it got kind of out of hand lol so here's 2.2k of breaking up and making up. hope you like it!

Tony loses track of what the fight is about fairly quickly. He knows it started with what seemed like playful bickering, the kind their relationship was practically built on, but somewhere along the way the jabs turned much more pointed. Barbed wire wrapped around them, until each one was like a knife wound.

The first real cut came from him, he knows. Bucky's witty comment hit a little too close to one of his hundred insecurities, and reflex made him return it with too much sharpness. He can't blame Bucky for reacting, but they're both to blame for letting it get this out of hand. That’s not something that matters in the moment, though.

In the moment, all that matters is the careless insults and merciless words they lob back and forth. They chip away at each other and their relationship until it’s crumbling around them, but even that doesn’t matter. It becomes secondary to getting in the last word and one-upmanship, like it’s a competition for who can hurt who the most that they both desperately want to win, consequences be damned.

“You know this is why people keep leaving you,” Bucky says. “At some point it should be pretty damn obvious that it's you, not them.”

Tony laughs bitterly because the only other choice is crying. “Cause you're a real fucking prize, right? Bet people are just lining up to date a guy they're barely allowed to touch. And God forbid you ever try to do something nice for him, because it'll never actually be right.”

“Better than a guy with daddy issues so severe it'll take him two years to even tell you he loves you. Don't bother saying it in the meantime to him either, because he'll run off to hide for a week after each time.”

“Well, you know what, I'll make it easy for you, then,” Tony says, backing away to grab his jacket. “You don't have to worry about me and all my issues anymore.”

He forcefully shoves his arms into the sleeves and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. Bucky watches with a clenched jaw and doesn't try to stop him, not even when he pauses to give him the chance.

“What are you waiting for? Go ahead and run off. Prove my point.”

Tony shakes his head, an ache already forming in his chest that he ignores. “I’m not proving your point, because this isn’t running. This is breaking up with you because you’re a fucking asshole.”

He lets the door slam shut behind him and speedwalks down the hall, repeatedly pushing the elevator button. It doesn’t come quickly enough, and he flings open the door to the stairwell to rush down them. His vision blurs dangerously, and he can hardly see where he’s going, but he doesn’t slow down. The tears come freely with no around to see, until he’s out on the sidewalk and violently swipes them away with the back of his hand. He doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking, only on getting as far away as possible.

Where he ends up shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. It’s muscle memory to come here at this point, a walk so familiar he could do it in his sleep and still manage to avoid all the cracks and uneven parts on the sidewalk on the way.

He stands outside of Shield’s Bar, neon lights coloring his face blue and pink, and he contemplates going in. It’s a Thursday, which means Clint is working the bar until midnight. Natasha will be waiting tables, and Steve will come in to replace her at ten.

All Bucky’s friends. He won’t get any of them in the breakup.

Steve will be the first to turn his back on him with his unwavering loyalty to his best friend. Clint will follow next because he hates tension and it’s the easier side to take. Natasha will be last, and she’ll claim that she loves them both and choosing sides is childish and ridiculous. But she’ll go, too, eventually. When none of her other friends will be in the same room as him, and all of their usual hangout spots become off limits. It’ll grow awkward and uncomfortable until promises to meet up turn into vague excuses and texts spaced months apart.

But where does he have to go if it isn’t here?

Rhodey’s on base in California, and Pepper moved back to New York the second her business degree was done. Staying in Boston was never the plan, not until Bucky and his found family welcomed him into their lives and made it feel like home. Where is there to go if home isn’t an option anymore?

He stands there long enough that people start to whisper as they pass by. They must think he’s lost his mind, staring blankly at a brick wall and hardly blinking, but he doesn’t hear what they say. Doesn’t hear anything but his own thoughts running in circles, going from anger to regret to shame and back again.

He wonders if Bucky’s right. If he truly is the reason it never works out. He knows he’s too insecure and emotionally unavailable. He demands too much and gives too little in return and doesn’t know how to communicate.

He used to watch his parents fight, orbiting around each other with avoidance and unspoken words until the dams broke and silence turned to screams, and he would swear that he would be better. If he was lucky enough to be in love with someone and have them love him in return, he would understand just how rare and beautiful that is and never take it for granted.

Easier said than done. Harder to face the fact that sometimes his words sound exactly like his father’s once did and sometimes he feels like his mother when he quietly lets himself be walked on and overlooked. The worst of both of them is tangled up inside of him, and it always kills whatever he touches.

Natasha finds him there eventually. She opens the door roughly, with intention that falters momentarily before she asks, “Do you plan on coming in at some point or are you staying out here all night?”

“I should probably go,” he says, quietly enough that it’s nearly lost to the wind.

Natasha watches him for a long moment, then steps out of the doorway to take his hand. She leads him over to an empty booth and slides into the opposite side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

She shrugs, “Steve will be here in a few minutes. No one’s going to die if they have to wait for their beer.”

Silence stretches on, and he stares down at his hands on the table. It’s warmer inside the bar, and he doesn’t realize that the cold has turned his fingers numb until they begin to unthaw.

“People coming in here were talking about some guy loitering outside. Some were saying he looked sad, some said lost. A few less optimistic people voted for strung out on drugs, but I think it’s safe to rule that one out now. Same with lost, seeing as you’ve been here a thousand times. That leaves sad, which means you had a fight with Bucky, and you didn’t come in, which means you think it’s your fault. Am I right so far?”

Tony nods, hanging his head low, and she continues to ask, “Do you want to talk about it or drink about it?”

“We broke up,” Tony mumbles. “I did it.”

She takes a long breath, and her hand is warm when it slips back into his. “Are you planning on fixing it?”

“Not sure it’s fixable. I said some things, he said some things. Can’t really take any of it back now.”

“People say things they don’t mean all the time. Doesn’t make it unforgivable.”

He shrugs like his heart isn’t broken. “Maybe it’s better off this way.”

Natasha sighs, “Tony.”

“What?”

“Go home.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have one of those anymore.”

“Of course you do,” she says softly. “I promise you that he wants you to come back.”

Tony shakes his head. “You weren’t there, Nat. You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened to know that he wants you to come home. If he feels even half as terrible as you look, he wants you. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s only over if you don’t go back.”

Tony bites his lip to keep it from quivering, and he asks, “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Well, it can’t exactly make things worse, can it?”

He huffs a humorless laugh, “I guess not.”

Natasha slides out of the booth, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go home before he comes out looking for you, and text me in the morning to tell me I was right.”

She walks away, greeting Steve as he comes in, and Tony lingers there for another minute before getting up. He waves to them both on his way out and tries not to think about what she’ll tell Steve about his reason for being there.

The walk back to his and Bucky’s apartment seems quicker than the walk away from it, and Tony resents it for not giving him more time.

He takes the stairs again and hesitates outside the door, what ifs overwhelming his mind. What if he walks in and all of his things are packed up for him? What if Bucky isn’t even there or all of his belongings are gone instead? What if he can’t fix it and this is where it really ends? He doesn’t know if he could recover from that.

Turning the key in the lock, he opens the door slowly and holds his breath in trepidation.

Nothing looks different. No packed boxes, no smashed picture frames, no sign that anything ever went wrong.

Bucky is on the couch, curled into the corner with his legs held tight to his chest, and he doesn’t seem to notice that he isn’t alone anymore. It’s painfully quiet, and the single light that was on before isn’t enough now that it's grown darker outside, but he hasn’t turned any others on.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says into the silence. It’s as good a place as any to start. “You didn't deserve that. Any of it. The whole stupid thing. You deserve so much better. I should be better at this, but I’ve done a real shit job of it lately, I think. Maybe not even lately. Maybe I’ve been a terrible boyfriend the whole time, and in that case you should probably tell me to go and not come back, but I’d like to think there were at least moments where I was sort of okay, and I’d like to try to be more than just okay if you’ll let me.”

Bucky stares at him, lips parted and red-rimmed eyes unblinking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tony freezes, unsure of how to answer that, and Bucky unfolds himself to walk over and stand in front of him.

“You broke up with me,” Bucky says.

“Yes, but I -”

“No,” he interrupts. “You broke up with me.”

Tony frowns in confusion and slowly says again, “Yes.”

“That means I do the grovelling here, because I fucked it up. I beg for the second chance, because I crossed the line so far that you left. And I did it on purpose, too, because I had a shit day so I pushed until you pushed back,” Bucky explains. “And apparently I did such a good job being horrible to you that you think it’s your fault.”

Tony tries to process that, but it’s taking some time to work through. A complete turn around on his thoughts that almost makes him dizzy.

“Why did you have a shit day? What happened?”

“Is that really what you’re focusing on in all of that?” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his hair. “God, it’s you that deserves better. That’s what I’m telling you here. You were right to leave, and I should be the one telling you I’m sorry.”

“You had a bad day and took it out on me. How many times have I done the same to you? You never once left.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Tony agrees. He reaches for one of Bucky’s hands, because he needs the contact and has a feeling that Bucky does too. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not worth working on. I meant what I said about wanting to be better for you.”

Bucky nods, looking down at their joined hands. “I want to be better for you, too. How do we do that?”

“A lot of talking about our feelings, probably.”

Bucky pulls a face. “God, that sounds terrible.”

Tony laughs, taking his other hand to pull him in closer, “Yeah, it does, but we’ll get better at it eventually.”

“Can we start tomorrow?” Bucky asks. He leans down to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “I’d really like to just hold you tonight.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tony murmurs. “Hold me tonight. It’ll be better in the morning.”

#buckytony #winteriron #my fic #my writing #prompts #prompt fill #warmachinesocks

[tennessoui]

There's something about seeing a civilized, prim and proper man like Obi turning into a touch-starved feral mess that is just *chef kiss* The other Jedi are shocked and don't know what to do. Anakin has a snuggly shadow who follows him everywhere bc he KNOWS if Anakin leaves his sight, he will lose him (eg after their blow up fight). And Obi forgetting the code and himself and everything except Anakin...why must you hurt me so good?

yes!!!! i imagine that obi-wan does not let him out of his sight for any period of time

anyway this is a bit short and a little more feral and violent than the other one but here is feral!obi-wan where he was anakin's master before.

(1.6k)

This can’t be his master, is the first thought that filters through the white noise in Anakin’s mind.

His master, before he’d been taken from him, had been the primmest, cleanest, most civilized person Anakin had ever met in his entire life. He’d been meticulously groomed, always. Anakin doesn’t remember ever seeing even a speck of dirt on his master’s pristine robes.

He’d looked perfect even the night he’d disappeared. He’d looked untouchable and perfect even during their argument. Anakin’s face had been flushed, his eyes wide and wet, his hair a mess. Obi-Wan had been perfectly put-together, voice sharp and ice cold in his reprimand of his apparently atrocious behavior.

Anakin doesn’t even remember what the argument had been about. He’d been fifteen years old. He’d have argued with the Force itself given half the chance and a direction to shout at.

The important thing is he’d been stupid enough to block their bond, stupid enough to leave their rooms for a walk without telling his master where he was going. And his master must have thought he’d be stupid enough to leave the safety of the building on a war-torn planet too, because Obi-Wan had gone out looking for him. He’d passed right by his hiding place. Anakin hadn’t said a thing, just watched his master go, too angry and hurt to think of the dangers that lurked outside the door.

In his mind, there was nothing that his master couldn’t handle, couldn’t defeat.

That was the last time Anakin had ever seen Obi-Wan Kenobi; the last time, actually, that anyone had.

It’s been seven years.

And now there’s someone on the floor in front of him, crouched over a body of one of the pirates who had been drinking in the main room the other night.

When Anakin and Ahsoka shut off the power to the facility in a bid to open the door to Master Windu’s cell, they hadn’t taken into account that there may be other people in other cells.

And now they’re standing in the main hall, lightsabers drawn, pirates stunned and groaning and tied up around them, and there’s someone crouched in the middle of the room, a dead body beneath him and golden eyes roving around looking for the next target.

And there’s something in Anakin that pounds at the cage of himself, that looks at this dirty, bloody, ungroomed, feral person, and thinks, That’s my master. That’s Obi-Wan Kenobi. That’s him I have finally found him.

But this. This can’t be his master.

His master would never snap a man’s neck with his hands. He’d never make those sounds with his throat, he’d never crouch that low to the ground, and he’d never have gold eyes.

But.

But there’s something in his force signature that feels so familiar. And it makes Anakin stumble forward, closer to the man--to Obi-Wan--before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Skywalker, don’t!” Windu snaps, with what sounds like fear in his voice. But Anakin can’t stop, won’t stop until he knows for sure that this is or isn’t his missing master.

The man on the ground growls at him as he approaches, eyes narrowed into golden slits. Anakin halts his progress a few steps away when the man shifts his weight, as if getting ready to pounce.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispers, voice breaking in the middle of the second syllable. Ahsoka draws in a sharp breath from behind him. She knows what this means to him. Everyone probably does. “Obi-Wan, it’s me.”

When the man looks up at him and snarls without a glint of recognition in his golden eyes, Anakin feels his legs give out and his own force signature explode outward in pain and guilt and anguish because if this is not Obi-Wan, then his master is still out there somewhere. And if this is Obi-Wan, then...then he doesn’t remember him. Anakin.

The man goes dangerously still when Anakin’s mind brushes his own, and he tilts his head to the side as he stares at him with an unreadable expression.

“Anakin!” Ahsoka yelps, darting forward to help her master up.

But before she can get close enough to touch him, the world spins and Anakin finds himself on the ground completely, with the man’s form hunched over his and one long-nailed hand pressed into the skin of his throat.

The snarls are infinitely louder when they’re right next to his ear.

“Stay back!” Anakin shouts over the noise to Ahsoka and Windu, both who have moved forward immediately. Ahsoka takes another step forward anyway, and the snarls turn downright vicious.

Anakin could try to get out of the man’s hold, but not without hurting him. And if this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, then he’s been hurt enough already.

“Ahsoka, stay back,” he says again in his firm Master voice. “I have this handled.”

Looking rebellious, Ahsoka steps back to her original place.

The threat taken care of, the man on top of Anakin turns his full attention to him again.

Anakin feels like he’s been stabbed with a lightsaber when he sees the familiar mole on the man’s forehead. “Master,” he breathes. “Master.”

Obi-Wan growls something out, and bumps their heads together.

Anakin blinks in confusion and shakes his head. Obi-Wan growls that same roughened word again, and then again even louder, and then Anakin starts to weep.

Ani.

He’s saying Ani.

“Yeah,” Anakin whispers back. “Yeah, I’m--I’m Ani. I’m. I’m your Ani.”

Obi-Wan sniffs at his cheek and then licks the tear away, making a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “Ani,” he rumbles. “No. Won’t. Won’t Ani.”

Anakin doesn’t know what that means, so instead of answering verbally, he reaches out with the Force and touches their minds together again. It’s easy to enter Obi-Wan’s mind. His master’s impeccable shields are nowhere to be found.

Instead, there is only darkness and a landscape of pain. Anakin is vaguely aware that he’s crying harder now, that he’s sobbing, but in Obi-Wan's mind all of Anakin’s worst nightmares about what happened to his master prove true.

Obi-Wan reaches back clumsily but with great enthusiasm, and Anakin tries to stuff away his own feelings of pain and guilt and enfuse his thoughts with all the happiness and affection and love his master has ever made him feel.

On top of him, Obi-Wan whimpers high in his throat and presses forward, impossibly closer. Anakin raises his hand to stroke at the muscle of Obi-Wan’s bare bicep, sending him soothing comfort. Obi-Wan latches on and pulls Anakin back into his mind.

Their old training bond, never severed, roars into life and it feels so good, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure and aching relief that Anakin forgets where he is for several moments.

Obi-Wan is back. Obi-Wan is back.

Footsteps approach from behind them and Anakin snaps back into his own head as Obi-Wan snarls dangerously at the intruder, tensing his body as if preparing for a fight. “Won’t Ani,” his master growls, words hardly distinguishable.

“Anakin,” and it’s Windu. “Is that--are you--” “He is, it’s him,” Anakin replies, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. “I felt...Master, I felt his memories in his mind. They’re...unfocused and old, but. The pirates, they--”

They had wanted Anakin, the people who took Obi-Wan. They had wanted to sell him, thinking they could fetch a high price for a Jedi padawan. When they got Obi-Wan instead, they’d hurt him in an attempt to get him to tell them where he was.

Obi-Wan hadn’t. Obi-Wan hadn’t once, not in seven years.

Anakin can feel tears dripping down his face, and Obi-Wan breaks off his staring contest with Mace to coo at him in distress.

“Master Windu won’t hurt me,” he tells Obi-Wan. “It’s alright. We’ll be alright.”

He desperately tries to believe it, even as the words leave his mouth.

When Windu steps closer, Obi-Wan snaps at him.

“Master,” Anakin says softly, touching the side of Obi-Wan’s face with his hand. “Obi-Wan.”

His master swings his attention down to him immediately, and Anakin uses their bond to slip a Force suggestion into his mind. Sleep.

Obi-Wan obviously doesn’t want to, but his golden eyes drift halfway shut anyway. Sleep, Anakin insists, rubbing his thumb over his cheek.

It only takes one more command for Obi-Wan to collapse on top of him, unconscious.

“Get him onto the ship,” Anakin says in a no-nonsense tone as he slips out from underneath the body of his master and stands, looking dispassionately at the dead pirate next to them. “And prepare for take off, Ahsoka.”

Master Windu looks at him silently.

“Please,” Anakin tries. “I don’t know how long he’ll be under, but we need to get him back to the Temple.”

“And what will you be doing?” Windu asks.

Anakin’s jaw clenches and unclenches. He wishes Windu had not been the one captured. It makes what he will do next infinitely harder. “Please, master. I just. I just need a moment to myself. I--” he doesn’t have to fake the way his voice gives out, nor the way his hand shakes when he reaches up to wipe away his tears. “Please.”

Master Windu’s stern face caves in with compassion, and he nods once. “Ahsoka,” he tells Anakin’s padawan, “help me with Knight Kenobi.”

Together, they levitate the unconscious form of Anakin’s master out of the main hall.

As soon as the doors close behind them, Anakin uses the Force to hold them tightly shut.

He turns to face the pirates, the ones who had hurt his master, held him against his will, and broken his mind.

It’s the easiest thing in the entire galaxy to flick his lightsaber on.

“Please,” he smiles. “Do not scream.”

#asks #feral!obi-wan #damn you know i got halfway through writing this and i was like oof this would work much more understandably #if it were a/b/o #but that is a squick for a lot of people and i didnt know if the (checks asks) 4 asks I got about this prompt #would want a feral alpha obi-wan thing #cw: torture aftermath #this is very not read through whoops #anyway the force bond reestablishing itself is fundamental for obi-wan to get better #and its a bit of a slow process #but at least in this theres no war so anakin goes off duty to help obi-wan full time #either obi-wan gets fully better and turns to the light again #or obikin both fall and then go around the galaxy killing all the people who hurt them #i mean if they stay jedi theyre still going to be delightfully unbearably codependent #but even the council isnt going to say anything because they missed obi-wan #prompt fill #feral obiwan

[harry-writings]

Hurt You Just Before You Go

- The one where Y/n picks a date for her divorce with Harry

Part 1

Masterlist

-

“You know what we should do?” 

It was the third night of their honeymoon and they had just got done with a particularly passionate round of love making — leaving them bare and breathless upon the heart-shaped bed, illuminating in the moon’s wake, burning in their desire. 

“Hmm... what, baby?” Harry hummed against the crook of Y/n’s neck — which still smelled like cherry vanilla despite his lips making a home out of it not just thirty minutes prior — pulling her body closer to his because he longed for her even when she was as close as could be.

“When your contract is over and it’s just you and me… we should go somewhere — somewhere far away from everything we’ve ever known, somewhere nobody else knows.”

Just the sound of it made Harry’s heart wither and clench, his bones shiver, his muscles ache with temptation because he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted more than Y/n to consume his life whole — leave behind the life he’d made for himself because none of it meant half as much as she did. 

“We could be those people who just up and leave; raise a family, adopt a kitten or two, drink wine on a hammock while the kids are asleep.”

And he was convinced Y/n shared all the same visions he had — all the same hopes and all the same dreams. Because when he pictured his life after his fame faded to nothing but a distant memory, all he saw was her — there was nothing else or nobody else, just her. 

But to know he couldn’t have that for another five years made his heart heavy in his chest. 

“Don’t tempt me. Please, don’t tempt me.” He begged with his hungry lips — sprawling kisses along her body, anywhere they could touch. “Would do it right this second if I could. Would give everything up to just have you.” 

Y/n would kill for it, would sacrifice anything and everything to spend the rest of her life exactly how she was spending it then — the world unturning as she lay helplessly in her husband’s arms. 

But it couldn’t always stop for them no matter how badly they wanted it to. Life had to move on, they just hoped they could keep up with it.

“But you’ve got a whole lot of love from a whole lot of people. The world would crumble without you, Harry Styles.” 

“Let it.” He asserted without hesitation, his lips against her inner thigh, spreading her open, all for him. “Mine would crumble without you.”

-

“Our anniversary?” 

Y/n can hardly believe the sight in front of her. 

She had seen Harry at all his darkest and most vulnerable moments — seen him through all his breakdowns, all his blackouts, all his downfalls — but nothing compares to the broken mess of a man standing at her front door trying desperately to hold himself together. 

He’s falling apart at the seams, broken on his feet — his eyes bloodshot and swollen, hair abused, his skin pale and sunken and tearstained — and Y/n has this bloodcurdling feeling swelling in her veins that Harry has completely lost touch with himself.

“You decided to get divorced on our wedding anniversary?”

The words get caught in his throat and knot with each breath he takes, his stomach churning on its own bile because every single part of him is so incurably empty. 

Never, in a million years, would he have expected his life to take this sharp of a turn and leave him hanging on the edge without Y/n’s hand to hold. How he’s been breathing and getting through each day is completely beyond himself because he would have never guessed he’d make it that far without her. 

But this… this will end him. 

Because their wedding anniversary isn’t just another day to make it through, or another plan to make in his already booked-up schedule... it’s the one day Harry looks forward to within his mess of a life — the one day Harry can be unconditionally and unapologetically himself, the one day he feels genuine happiness and fulfillment — because he spends every millisecond of it with Y/n, with nobody’s eyes on them, except for each other’s.

And to lose that would make every other day of his life an absolute living nightmare. 

“Baby, please tell me this is some sick joke. You can’t be doing this to me.”

Y/n, now, almost wishes it was, because seeing Harry like this is horrendously unbearable. He is drowning, sinking, falling into the depths of his own hell and she knows she’s the only one that can save him from himself. 

But she can’t. No matter how much her hands are shaking and aching to reach out for him, she knows he’s going to find a way to let go again, and she just can’t risk herself for him anymore.

“It’s going to be easier this way.” Y/n whispers beneath the trembling of her frowned lips, because even though she was once so convinced that this was the only way to save themselves from this loss, she’s now having a hard time believing herself. 

How is any of this going to be easy? 

“If we got divorced any other day, it would —” she chokes out a noise that Harry can only describe to be complete and utter agony, “Harry, it would ruin us. That’s two days, forty-eight full hours of thinking about everything we could have been and everything we’ve lost, and that’s not counting all the time we’ll spend in between thinking about how much we’re going to dread the next date before it even comes.

“We can’t handle that, Harry. Have you seen us? From the second we started dating, the more time we spent with one another — the more time we even thought of one another — made every second apart feel like the end of the world. Imagine feeling that way when we can’t even have each other… it’ll kill us both.”

And despite how badly he wants her to be wrong, deep down, he knows she’s right. 

What they have — the feelings they share and the love that’s rooted between them — is unnatural. It runs so deep that it seems to defy all laws of time and space. They become convinced that the world revolves only around each other — that nothing else has a purpose, or a belonging, in their lives. 

One look is all it takes for time to falter, for the universe to pause, only for them.

But as years passed by and times started changing, they also became convinced that every problem in their relationship wasn’t a matter of lost feelings or unfaithful love, it was a matter of loving each other too much. So much, that they couldn’t survive on their own. 

It was too dangerous and too toxic, but in the most innocent of ways.

“It’ll only kill us if we don’t want it.” Harry croaks out, his tired eyes helpless and vulnerable as they stare into hers, which are just as sad and void as his. “And it is so clear to the both of us that we don’t want this. We can have each other again if you just — please, just let me fight for you.”

He takes a step closer to her, tentatively, because he wouldn’t know how to handle himself if she were to walk away from him again. 

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t. The second we walk out of that courtroom we — I’ll never be able to see you again, or talk to you again, or touch you. The only thing I’ll have left of you is Topher and I swear to god, every time I look at him it’s going to take everything in me not to run to you, wherever you end up, and I can’t live like that. I can’t fathom the idea of being so fucking far away from you and not having a single clue where you are or what you’re doing — not knowing if you’re safe, if you’re crying, if you need a hand to hold, if you... if you need me… if you hate me.”

It didn’t hit him until now — the possibility of Y/n curing his name and wishing nothing but death upon him, feeling like she’s wasted so much of her life on someone she wished she had ever even met. And that tears him apart from the inside out, his insides twisting and throat pulsing just at the thought of it.

And how could he do anything when all he wants is her?

“All of this started because I couldn’t be your first, and all of this ended because I chose to put you last even though that’s the farthest place you’ll ever be to me. And the thought of you —”

He chokes on his words, his hand reaching up towards his chest to rest upon his hollowed heart, heaving back sobs that are on the verge of crashing over him. And Y/n can’t bear to watch it. 

“The thought of not having you, Y/n. I can’t stomach it. It’s just not possible. I can’t.”

He’s not holding anything back, now. He’s falling apart and drowning in the pit of sadness he has yet to escape — his body so desperate for relief it can hardly keep itself up anymore. And the only thing that keeps him from collapsing on the concrete is Y/n’s shaking hand upon his shoulder. 

He lets out yet another cry, hunched over, his own hand reaching up to grab ahold of hers. He’d know the feeling of her hand no matter what the circumstances — when she’d surprise him on tour and he’d know it was her hand that touched on his neck before he even heard her voice, or when they were being swarmed by fans and he knew when it was Y/n grabbing his arm and not some random stranger trying to get the best of him.

And how could he find any other pair that could ever come close to holding himself together the way hers does?

Y/n pulls him into her as he weeps his sorrows against her shoulder, hoping that just the hold of her arms are enough to keep him steady… at least for a little while. 

But when he lifts his head from her soaked t-shirt to look into her eyes with pure desperation and despair, she knows that it’s not.

“Please baby, let me fix this. Let me be everything you need me to be.. I can do it, all for you. Just, please, let me make it right.”

His breath falters when his eyes make their way to her lips — god, what he’d do to those lips — and his mouth waters at the urge to pull her in and give her everything he has to offer. 

She’s right there, so close he can feel her breath on his, and all he has to do is just pull her in until her lips fall right into his —

and they do. 

They’re exactly how he remembers them to be — soft and warm, light and sweet — and he whimpers into her mouth, his hands cradling her cheeks as their tongues dance in harmony. 

Y/n pulls him backwards and though he is so swooned and out of his damn mind in ecstasy, he follows her movements like a lost puppy because god forbid he pulls himself away from her ever again. He doesn’t even open his eyes because if this is a dream, it’s one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

And what was once so delicate and raw became hot and heavy — their mouths all over each other’s, hands wandering underneath clothes, moans of temptation dripping from their tongues as they make their way to her bedroom.

And they should stop. God, every bit of them should stop but they can’t because how they have shamelessly missed this, and how badly do they want it back. 

So they don’t.

-

2 hours later. 

“Where were you thinking?”

Y/n was half asleep as she nested herself against Harry’s naked body — her legs trembling from her previous finish, her red, swollen lips parted around tired breaths, eyes shut around a daydream. She looked beautiful — so beautiful, Harry almost didn’t have the heart to keep her awake any longer. 

But he couldn’t help himself… he needed to know before the night took her away from him, because when she fell to her slumber and dreamt of their future together — swinging on a hammock with a bottle of wine, the world fading until all that was left was themselves, surrounded by kids and kittens — he wanted to dream it with her, too. 

“Hm?”

Her eyes were still closed, body unmoving, refusing to wake from her slumbered state but also refusing to miss a single word Harry had to say. 

“Earlier you said that when my contract is over, we can go somewhere only we know.” 

She hummed again, this time, with a warm smile painted on her lips. 

It was her favorite thought — really, her one and only thought — and it was the only dream of hers that she ever really, truly believed in. Everything else, to her, was uncertain, but her life Harry was unquestionable and undeniable. They were meant solely for each other. 

“Where are we, when you think that?” 

She craned her neck against his chest so her lips could peck at his skin, softly, and only once before she rested her head right back to where it laid before.

“Alaska.” 

“Alaska?” 

Harry pulled slightly away from Y/n with furrowed eyebrows and confused eyes, looking down at her as if to assure himself that he heard her correctly.

He was in disbelief. Not because it was unlike her to think of such peculiar things, but because it really was so far away from everything they had ever known, and one of the only places Harry has yet to see.

How she even thought of it, he’d never understand. But he could never question her dreams or make her feel as though he didn’t want them the same way she did. He only wanted what she wanted.

And as he looked down at her, with her eyes still closed and face still soft, her lips turning upwards, he knew how much it meant to her. 

“We don’t have to.” Y/n slurred sheepishly. “Just a thought.”

“No, baby. No, of course I want it, it’s just —” he tucked her in closer to his chest again, afraid he just ruined everything she had been looking forward to. “I’d freeze my balls off, love. We wouldn’t be able to make any babies.” 

She giggled, shaking her head softly. 

“It’s not cold all the time, y’know. And I don’t know… I just fell in love with the idea of us living without any neighbors or any distractions. We could be by the water, have a view of the mountains, have enough land for our kids to wander off and play. And even if it’s not what we imagined it to be… we don’t need anything outside of us. It’ll still be the happiest we’ve ever been because it’ll be you and me. Just you and me.” 

And as she spoke the thoughts that have been floating in her pretty little head, Harry closed his eyes and saw it, too — clear as day, as if his mind had met halfway with hers and went to a universe that was only made for them.

It was then, he knew, that that’s where they belonged. 

-

It shouldn’t feel this way — this ghostly and empty, like being trapped in a room haunted by everything that once was. 

Y/n shouldn’t be looking at Harry beside her, naked, with a clench of regret straining in her heart, but that’s the only thing she feels.

Why? She curses herself. Why does he have to make me so weak? Why does he keep doing this to me?

She shouldn’t be loving him like this — like she’d cut herself open just to please him, like she’d ruin herself just to make him feel better — but she is, just as hard and selflessly as before. And the sad part is… she’s never stopped loving him this way, she wouldn’t even know how to. 

“You should go home, Harry.” Y/n speaks through the words she feels so heartbroken to say, because she shouldn’t even be saying them at all. “I don’t want to keep you from your day.”

And Harry feels it all again. 

The twist in his stomach, the pulsing of his throat, the hallowing of his heart — all surfacing once again even though he thought it was safe to bury away. 

“You’re kicking me out?” 

He whispers it with a crack in his voice and Y/n wants to take back everything she’s done — letting him beg for her love back, letting him cry on her, letting him love on her. Because now look at where they’ve ended up — naked and broken on a bed that didn’t belong to them, wishing reality could let them stay, hoping this wasn’t goodbye. 

But it is. It is goodbye and the last time they could ever be this close again. 

“Yeah, Harry. I’m kicking you out.” 

She doesn’t want to sound so heartless and cruel but she’s been left with no other choice, she has to walk away from this on her own without finding her way back to him. And she’s learned by now that she’s too damn weak when it comes to his pain — she’d give into him if she were to break.

“This wasn’t my way of coming back to you.”

But, oh, how Harry thought it was. 

Sex was never just sex to Y/n — it wasn’t just sex to either of them — especially when it happened with each other. Sure, it got messy, and sloppy, and rough on most nights, but neither of them would have enjoyed it nearly as much if they weren’t so in love.

So why would this time be any different? Why is it that now, so suddenly, it was her way of seeking revenge?

A fresh new wave of tears flood to his eyes, scrunching his face because he refuses to do this again — let her witness another cry, have her bring him to his knees, allow her to watch him break his own bones. The more he does it, the more power he gives her to treat him like this — like a one-night stand unworthy of her days, like a fuck she can only give when it’s convenient for her. 

These past two hours have been a whirlwind of emotions for him, yet somehow, they were all too hopeful — thoughts of spending the night together, making love past dawn, playing hide and seek beneath the covers. 

And here she is, throwing words around that crush all the rest of his hopes and dreams.

He hits his hand against the mattress, betrayal and deceit coursing so ruthlessly through his veins he feels his skin burn with each beat of his heart — leaving him damned in their nakedness.

“So, what?! You decided to screw me just to even the score?! Get me all over you just to push me away?!” 

Y/n flinches from where she lays, her eyes still empty and sunken as she watches Harry hurl himself from her bed and as far away from her as possible. He had hardly ever raised his voice at her, even when she was most deserving of it, and it leaves her gutted and bruised in her wake.

“It’s not like that.” She whispers, though she knows it doesn’t really matter if she says it at all — he’s never going to let this go. “You were so hurt and I couldn’t —” she flutters her eyes shut, “I can’t control myself around you.”

He shakes his head and spits out a laugh so dark it sends a shiver down her spine, his eyes looking anywhere but at her, stepping into the leg of his pants like he couldn’t have been covered fast enough. 

He’s angry, so angry and so hurt his hands and legs are numb and the backs of his eyes are stained red, and he’s at a loss of what to do. He’s done everything to deserve feeling this way yet something inside of him is bursting at the seams, desperate to extinguish it. 

“So you decide to hurt me more?” 

His chest aches and shivers, eyes shut and weep, now wondering if this dream is now a nightmare he’s going to be stuck in for the rest of his life. 

And Y/n’s eyes fall to his empty side of the bed, wondering how she’s going to sleep here at night — wondering how she’s going to possibly live through this — after she had just done what she did. 

“It wasn’t right, I know that, but I swear it —”

“No, it wasn’t right!” Harry fights back, though it’ll only risk losing her more. “I’m not perfect in this marriage but never once have I used you just to give you a taste of your own medicine! I don’t get you all weak and vulnerable just to spit it in your face later!” 

He’s right, he hasn’t, but what an unfair statement to throw at the mess he’s already made of her.

He’s done worse — so much worse — such unspeakable and disloyal things that have left her alone to rot, decompose right in his own two hands until she perished in his ruin, and never once had he gone back on his mistakes. He just left her there, hopeless and afraid.

And she wants to scream it at him — wants to give it all right back to him, make him feel so small for what he’s done, break him down over, and over, and over again just to make him see that her moment of weakness was nothing compared to his moments of truth. 

But she’s so much better than that. 

“You think you don’t use me?” She breathes out in disbelief, sitting up upon the mattress now, holding the blanket up to her bare chest. “You use me every day. You’ve been using me as an option for the past year because you can’t handle doing your shit on your own!”

He’s still now, letting her words soak and seep into him as she picks and pries at his biggest weaknesses. And he is left defenseless. 

“You don’t want this divorce because the second we sign our names on that contract, you’ll be alone just like you were before we met! And you’re going to be terrified looking for somebody else to replace this because nobody has been able to convince you that they love you for you and not for your money, except for me.”

God, why does she have to know him so well? Because even though that wasn’t even close to being the reason as to why Harry refused to pick a date, it was one of his greatest fears.

“So you just keep finding your way back to me because I’m the only love you’ve ever known, and if you lose it, you’re not going to know where to find it again.”

He can’t find it again and he won’t find it again, he knows it’s true. Everything in his life had led him to her, which is exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

His world begins and ends with her, rises and falls next to her and there isn’t anybody else that could offer him that much. He doesn’t have to go looking to know that. 

“I can only find it in you, you know that.” Harry whimpers out, fingers shaking as he places his hand on the corner of the bed, still reaching for her even in their worst moments. “But you’ve proven to me time and time again that you can throw it all away so easily, like it's meant nothing to you.”

His fingers fist at the duvet, praying for something to save him now. 

“So open to dating other guys and make me watch you as you do it, so ready to fuck me just to kick me out at my lowest. And I am so low, Y/n, the lowest I have ever been, but you’ve stooped even lower.” 

And he really can’t believe he’s doing this — walking away when he just gave her all the love he could give, saying goodbye when they were just saying how much they loved and missed each other not just two hours ago — but this is what she wants. This is the version of himself she’s created. 

And he should really curse her for it, scream and cry and kick and yell, dig her six feet under for messing with him like this. But he’s too betrayed and in too much pain to do anything but run away and find a place for himself to be torn limb from limb until he’s a pile of waste that can no longer be found.

He lets one last sob rip out of him before he looks at her one last time, knowing this is it.

“I’ll see you in fifteen days.”

-

They should be by the ocean, watching the sunrise from their hotel balcony with a morning drink strong enough to take them both under while they cheers to the three years they’ve lived so happily together as husband and wife. 

Topher should be asleep in his grandparents’ bed, getting lost in lullabies, dreaming of his parents’ return. And they should be dancing after breakfast in bed, laughing at the memories that haven’t let them go, singing the songs he wrote just for her.

They shouldn’t be here — sitting in a courtroom drowning in tears they are so worthless at holding back, listening to strangers discuss all the logistics and terms of a broken marriage they know nothing about. 

How they have ended up somewhere so dark and deadly is beyond them. This is so unlike them — to willingly sign their names to be free of one another, to allow themselves to move onto other people who weren’t meant for them, to leave behind the life they’ve made for themselves — but this isn’t a matter of whether they want to anymore.

There has been so much damage done to the both of them that staying in this marriage, at this point, would just be cruel and spiteful and selfish. No matter how many sleepless nights they spend craving each other’s hold, wanting to climb out of their own beds and into the one they once shared so nobly, they have to let it all go.

And neither of them can breathe or bear to listen to these lawyers go on and on about what happens now — what will happen when they walk out of the courtroom, how their lives are going to be split, how they’re going to have to take turns spending time with the son they should be raising together as a family. 

They don’t care about their lives after this moment in time because it will no longer be lived alongside one another, and that ensured a lifetime of misery for the both of them.

And they can’t even find the heart to look at each other. One look and who knows what decisions they’d make in their fragility. Who knows how far their love could take them to do such nonsense, such childish things.

One look and it’s over for the both of them.

“Mrs. Styles,” Y/n flinches at the name he so pathetically decided to refer to her as. “Your husband has left you with everything. This would mean that custody of Topher, the money, your home in both London and Alaska would be fully held in your possession.” 

And suddenly, the room that was once so still and so lifeless begins to spin before her very eyes. The world is spiraling out of her control and her body is in so much shock, the only thing she can manage to do is grip at the edge of the table so tight, her fingers and knuckles turn white. 

“Can you repeat that?” 

Her eyes are wet, wide, and unblinking as she looks back up at Harry’s lawyer she hasn’t even bothered remembering the name to. 

“That last bit. I need you to repeat it for me.”

He coughs awkwardly, his eyes drifting between Harry and Y/n before they finally settle back down to his paper. “Yes, ma’am. Uh, in your possession would be full custody of Topher, the seventeen million euros under Mr. Styles’ name, and your home in both London and Alaska.” 

Alaska.

The word strikes her so deep and so unexpectedly, her breath halts in her chest and every muscle in her body buckles against each other. 

And how could one word have so much power over her? How could one word make her feel a million different things all at once — leaving her so confused yet so hopeful, so heartbroken yet so fulfilled?

“Our home in Alaska?”

Her eyes are no longer trained on the man who just spoke that very word to her — no, they are now looking directly at the man who seems even more beaten and broken than the last time she saw him, the same man who shared all her wildest dreams. 

And though she barely had any composure as it was, the parts of herself that were patched together with needle and thread are rupturing and bleeding out. And Harry has to so helplessly watch as the love of his life starts to crack and shatter at his feet. 

“You didn’t, Harry! No you fucking didn’t!” 

She punches at the table before holding her head in her hands, sobbing and choking and wailing in her palms. She can’t even imagine how pathetic she looks to lawyers around her but she doesn’t find it in herself to care. 

They’ll never understand what that house in Alaska truly means to her, what it’s gotten her through and how much it’s kept her fighting through it all. They don’t know that living in that house with Harry — spending her days and her nights there, by his side until her dying day there — was her one and only dream.

And she had no idea it could have been her reality, until now. 

“Of course I did, Y/n.” Harry whispers, his wrists wiping harshly at his red and swollen eyes. “I bought it that night.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” Y/n pleads under her hysterics.

“Twenty acres, right by the water, across from the mountains, just like you talked about.”

Her cries only get stronger as she thinks about it all over again. And normally when she thought of it, it warmed her heart and filled her bones up with so much anticipation and impatience she could hardly contain herself.

But now, when she thinks of it, it leaves her cold and empty because it was right there — it was theirs and it was going to happen and they could be there right now and it’s all too much for her to handle. 

She’s practically screaming between her hiccups and mewls now, really trying to breathe through the clenching in her chest and the quivering in her lungs but she can’t. And she is so lightheaded she swears she’s going to pass out right then and there, especially now that she’s sobbing so hard her throat pulses around a cry she can’t breathe it out.

And she’s going to die, she’s absolutely sure of it. Her entire body is flushed and shaking and her face is nearly blue — her lungs are collapsing and her heart is failing and she’s crashing out without warning. 

And the sight alone brings Harry to his knees, hunched over the floor as he nearly hurls up the bile rumbling in his stomach. 

He did this to her — did this to them. He is the only one to blame and that’s what devours him the most. 

They could be at that Alaskan house right now, on that stupid fucking hammock drinking wine and making out like two lovestruck teenagers still learning how to be the best versions of themselves for each other. And they could be so drunk they fall to grass below them, dazed in their fits of laughter, falling in love all over again.

But instead they have fallen to the ground in a courtroom so willing to burn them out, wrecked and broken in each other’s arms, trying to remember what it feels like to have a heartbeat.

And all that remains are the two piles of divorce papers that they still have yet to sign.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles preference #harry styles preferences

[glimmerglanger]

Oof!au prompt!!! Listen, someone had to ask for this: Cody and Obi-Wan's REAL first time! :O

Anonymous said:

Early spicy Sunday request for some Cody/Obi Wan from the ooof!AU <3 I just want them to be happy :,))

Anonymous said:

can I request a spicy codywan oof!au snippet of their first time? I just want them to be happy so bad

Anonymous said:

I hope this is ok to ask, what’s the plan for the oof au prompt of their first time? I totally understand if you’re not working on old stuff right now because of work, swbb, prompts and whatnot! Im only curious if you plan on finishing it one day. Please don’t take this as me pressuring or demanding from you! I just want to know if I should shelve my excitement for a little while and bring it out later or drop it if you don’t feel like revisiting it. Thanks!

GUESS WHAT I FINALLY FINISHED. I’ve been picking away at this for a while (obviously) but I have wrapped it up! 

As a reminder, since it’s been a while, there was a lot of torture in the oof!au. They’re well on the road to recovery in this fic (it’s far after Obi-Wan made his new lightsaber and got his prosthetic arm, for example) but there are still mentions of past torture and the fallout of both mind control and non-con.

ALSO this is spicy! VERY spicy! Not safe for wizards! 

~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan slept better with someone beside him. He wondered, sometimes, if that had always been true and he’d just never had the opportunity to find out, before… Everything that happened. There was no way to go back in time to find out, so he left the consideration go, released it from his mind.

He focused on enjoying, instead, the safety of the present. He woke, most days, with Cody pressed close to him. He’d mentioned, only once, that Cody did not always have to sleep between him and the door - if their sleeping area happened to have a door - and Cody had just looked at him, expression hard and flat.

Obi-Wan let that go, too.

The mind healers had helped them so much, but there were some things they could not change, some reassurances that they held onto.

Cody slept better with Obi-Wan against a wall, or tucked into a corner. Defensible. Obi-Wan slept better with Cody’s warm presence close. That was just...how it was.

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open on the Recompense because he was not sleeping well at all, his dreams troubled. And so, perhaps, it was not much of a surprise to find that Cody was not all warm and relaxed against him. Instead, Cody was tense, half-drawn away from him.

“Mm?” Obi-Wan mumbled, not fully awake. He rolled, moving to press back into Cody’s warmth even as Cody put a hand on his hip, squeezing, perhaps trying to catch him back. It did not work. There wasn’t enough room in their little bunk for it to work and their bodies so naturally gravitated towards one another.

Obi-Wan settled against him, and Cody made a ragged little sound, and then rasped out, “Sorry.”

Obi-Wan blinked, but even through the haze of exhaustion it was not difficult to determine what he was talking about. Cody was hard against his hip, which was… a surprise not as rare as it had once been.

It had taken time - and lengthy discussions with the mind healers - to reach that point. Cody still seemed startled when he hardened and, sometimes, apologized, though Obi-Wan had thought they were past that. He shook his head, squirming closer, and said, “You don’t need to be sorry. I like it.”

Cody exhaled, ragged. Obi-Wan felt it against his neck, the back of his head. Cody said, voice still tense, though, at least, he had not climbed from the bed, “But you were asleep.”

“So were you,” Obi-Wan pointed out, reaching up and covering Cody’s hand with his. 

Cody relaxed, just a little. He asked, “You really don’t...mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Obi-Wan confirmed, briefly regretful that the conversation was waking him up fully. He squeezed Cody’s fingers and pushed back a little more, with full intent to press against the hardness still brushing the curve of his ass. He repeated, because Cody always eased when he heard it, “I like it. I like when you touch me.”

Cody’s grip tightened again, but he did not feel worried, not through the Force. His emotions slid over into something else as he shifted, responding to the pressure and then going still again, pressing his face against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan shifted, just a little, and said, “I’d like to help you with that.”

Cody groaned, faintly, against his skin, and then said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Which...meant he was almost certainly thinking about intercourse. About fucking Obi-Wan. These days, he only worried about hurting Obi-Wan in that context. They’d never even attempted it, because the idea worried him so.

They’d made so much progress. Cody did not worry about it every time they were intimate, not when they touched one another, not even when Obi-Wan went to his knees and slid his mouth down Cody’s cock.

Obi-Wan had thought they’d gotten past the last of the worries about doing harm during intercourse, after Cody had broached the idea of them fucking, after Obi-Wan had worked him open slowly and carefully slid into him, letting them both find their pleasure.

But, afterwards, Cody had been agitated, had risen from the bed and said, almost gutted, “There wasn’t any blood,” and seemed guilty about it, and--

They’d spent a lot of time at the mind healers over that, dealing with Cody’s reaction to the fact that Obi-Wan had not hurt him at all, that it did not have to hurt--

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that not everyone had...past experience with torture. It was hardly the first time someone had tried to break Obi-Wan apart, using whatever means necessary. But it was not the same for his men. For Cody.

“I know you won’t,” Obi-Wan said, quietly, setting aside the past. He added, when Cody said nothing, “I know you’d make me feel good, Cody.” And, when Cody pulled him around, making a rough sound, Obi-Wan kissed his mouth and curled an arm around him. And they did nothing but rock against each other, Cody eventually sliding a hand into his sleeping pants, but the conversation hung at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind in the days that followed.

#

The conversation was still there, lingering in his thoughts, days later, when they returned to their quarters, showered off, and Cody said, in the process of drying off, “Would you like me to - to do that?”

Obi-Wan blinked over at him, water chilling his skin, and asked, “Do what?”

Cody clenched his jaw and then blew out a breath through his nose. “Be inside you. The way--you’ve done it. For me.” He looked up, before Obi-Wan could reply, eyes dark and wide, intent. “I wouldn’t--I’d make sure it didn’t hurt. I promise. I wouldn’t--”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, soft, touching his hand. Cody’s shoulders had tensed up, a muscle in his jaw jumping, over and over again. Cody kept eye contact, and Obi-Wan shifted just a little closer, continuing. “And yes. I’d like that. Whenever you’re ready.” 

Cody rocked his jaw, side to side, and asked, “Are you...ready?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I trust you,” he said, and watched Cody tense even further.

He tugged, just a little, on Cody’s shoulder, and Cody shifted into his space, curled an arm around him, just….held him, tension eventually easing from him, touching with more intention, until Obi-Wan was pressed against the wall, gasping up to the ceiling as Cody slid down, mouth hot and wet and good, already more than Obi-Wan had ever thought they’d get to have.

#

When Cody finally decided he was ready, Obi-Wan thought it was not so much motivated solely by desire. There was far too much determination in Cody’s expression, when he pulled away from a kiss, both of them laying on their sides, curled towards one another, Cody’s hand still around Obi-Wan’s recently spent cock.

He’d pushed aside Obi-Wan’s hand, every time Obi-Wan tried to touch him in return, which made more sense when he rasped, ragged, “Can I--can we--could I be inside you?” 

Obi-Wan nodded, gut tightening at the thought, and managed to answer; the mind healers had reminded him, often, that he needed to speak his feelings more, “Yes, Cody. Please.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Cody said, and there was a promise and a certainty there, that Obi-Wan had thought they’d never get to again. There’d been a time Cody had seemed convinced that he would be unable to avoid causing hurt and pain. 

Now he spoke the words like a vow, sealing them with a kiss that left Obi-Wan groaning, holding onto him. 

They’d done this often enough the other way around that Cody seemed confident about the steps that ought to come next. Obi-Wan shifted onto his back, unsurprised when Cody settled beside him, leaning over to kiss him once more.

Cody still shied away from being over him, most of the time. 

Obi-Wan shifted, gasping when Cody ran a hand down his stomach, hesitating for only a moment before sliding his touch further down. “That’s nice,” Obi-Wan managed to pant out, at the first brush of pressure, and--

--and he’d wanted, for longer than he cared to think about, to erase away the memories of what Anakin had done. He’d wanted to replace them with something else, to push them back and away, as he’d done--

But it hadn’t been up only to him. And the thought of rushing Cody into something he wasn’t ready to do would have been beyond consideration. Cody pushed up onto his elbow, eyes impossibly focused on Obi-Wan’s expression as he slid slick fingers over skin, carefully, cautiously, sliding the tip of one finger inside, and--

Obi-Wan groaned, tilting his hips up and into the touch, Cody rasping, “It’s--?”

“Good,” Obi-Wan reassured him, and fought the urge to close his eyes or look away. He could feel, pouring out of Cody’s head, how much he needed...this. Needed to look and see, to watch Obi-Wan’s eyes while he moved his hand, going so slow that it became a tease, that it had Obi-Wan squirming on the bed, skin growing over-hot, his cock - impossibly - hardening again.

Cody made a low sound when he glanced down Obi-Wan’s body and noticed, and Obi-Wan panted, “See? I told you it was good.”

“Force,” Cody swore, and bent to kiss him, moving his hand a little faster, still only two fingers in and--and Obi-Wan wondered if he planned to stretch preparation until morning, and groaned at the thought, shifting to meet each movement of Cody’s touch, tangling fingers into his hair, breathing unsteadily as Cody shifted to get his other hand on Obi-Wan’s cock, stroking--

In the end, they did not make it until morning. Obi-Wan could take no more, eventually, heels sliding across the blankets as his body thrummed and he panted out, “Cody, oh--”

Cody paused, hand just going still, fingers sunk in deep, pressed against the spot that made Obi-Wan ache, that had his back bowing up without his instruction at the prolonged pressure, spots going off behind his eyes and--

He’d been on edge for so long. Falling over it felt like a relief, even if there was guilt, too, that Cody had not come once. Cody did not seem offended, when Obi-Wan shook himself, blinking aside the pleasure, the dizzy warmth moving through his veins.

Cody looked...surprised, but satisfied, the way he’d ever looked after a victory hard fought. And seeing that expression on his face in their bed made Obi-Wan groan, unexpectedly, shivering all down his back.

“That felt good for you,” Cody said, not like a question, and Obi-Wan nodded anyway. 

“Yes,” he rasped, “very much so.”

Cody stared at him, for a beat, breathing raggedly, and then said, “Should--can I….?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan muffled the sound that rose in his throat when Cody slid his fingers free - almost too fast - and then Cody was hesitating, for the first time, looking over him with a little furrow forming on his brow and--

“Roll over,” Obi-Wan advised, because he felt loose and half-dizzy and he wanted.

He noted the relief on Cody’s expression, even as Cody rolled onto his back, the blankets tangled all around him, muscles shifting in his chest as he reached for Obi-Wan, his breath punching out when Obi-Wan threw a leg over his hips.

Obi-Wan braced a hand on Cody’s chest and reached his other hand down, curling his fingers around Cody’s cock, and asking, meeting his eyes, “You want this?”

For a moment, Cody only stared up at him, mouth open but speechless. And then he nodded, his hands curled into the blankets, clenching so hard his knuckles stood up against his skin. Obi-Wan waited, a beat, until he ground out, “I want you, Obi-Wan, please.”

Obi-Wan nodded, shifted, and sank back. 

And there was a flash, unavoidable, of the memory of metal under his cheek, hands gripping at him, hard and cruel, a dry shove in and pain and--

And Obi-Wan exhaled, grounding himself in the present, in Cody’s warm skin under his palm, the dazed expression on Cody’s face, the warmth of their room, their bed, their love. He grounded himself in all the memories they’d built, the other times they’d touched, the steady, blinding affection he felt from Cody, every day. The knowledge, sure as the Force itself, that Cody wouldn’t hurt him.

“Oh,” Cody gasped, hands rising jerkily off of the sheets, fingers flexing at nothing, before finally settling, feather soft, on Obi-Wan’s hips as he sank down and down and down, until there was nothing between them. “Oh, oh, Force.”

Obi-Wan felt his mouth quirk up, Cody’s stunned pleasure vibrating around them, adding to his own, still thrumming inside his veins. 

“You feel good,” Obi-Wan told him, rising slowly and sinking back, seeing no reason to rush and, anyway, he felt thoroughly wrung out, already. Cody made a thick sound, meeting his eyes again, holding his gaze as Obi-Wan added, “So good inside me, Cody.”

The sound Cody made was inarticulate. Obi-Wan could feel the tension in his hands, in his fingers, but he did not squeeze or grip, just kept his touch resting against Obi-Wan’s skin, kept staring, expression hungry, the muscle under Obi-Wan’s hand tensing a bit more with each slow movement Obi-Wan made, until Cody’s hips shifted, finally, up to meet him.

Cody froze, all over, at the little sound Obi-Wan made, eyes getting wider, mouth opening, and Obi-Wan blurted, before there could be a misunderstanding, “That’s--that’s good. Feels good, you could--do that again.”

“Yeah?” Cody asked, expression so intent, and Obi-Wan managed to nod, groaning again when Cody repeated the thrust upwards. He picked up the rhythm quickly, must have gotten his feet flat on the bed to get the leverage for it, making shocked, pleasure-dazed sounds that grew rapidly more ragged.

And it was not much of a surprise when Cody rocked up into him one last time and came with a sound that was almost startled. Obi-Wan shivered at the feeling - it had been… a long time since he’d experienced it - and expected Cody to collapse fully against the mattress.

Instead, Cody made a shivery sound and sat up, all at once, arm curling around Obi-Wan’s back, keeping him close as Cody pressed a kiss to his cheek and then his mouth, breath unsteady and hitching. “Did that--are you--”

“It was so good,” Obi-Wan told him, curling a hand around the back of his neck, skin hot, the tips of his hair damp with sweat. “So good, darling.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Cody asked, against his mouth, and the change in position had slid him free, already. Obi-Wan was aware of the mess he was making all over Cody’s thighs, but Cody seemed not to mind, and--

“Not at all,” Obi-Wan reassured, and Cody made a choking sound, dropping his head to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and - and Obi-Wan crooned to him, nonsense words, when his shoulders started to shake, as he made wet, gasping sounds. “I knew you wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You never would.”

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #oof!au #codywan #not safe for wizards #mentions of past torture and abuse #this is well into the recovery however

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Inspired by this post from @meduseld here are the beginnings of a little fic in which a career criminal / crime boss Nathan Hansen runs Haven with a fierce efficiency, and in which Duke Crocker the smuggler, on his way back into town for the first time in years, has absolutely no idea what he's walking into...

-

Duke can hardly believe that after more than 15 years away, he’s about to step foot in Haven again. He’s been putting it off, truth be told. He’s been hearing rumours about strange, impossible things happening here for a couple of years now, and he knows that means if he’s going to keep his promise to his father he needs to move back. But he has so very many reasons not to that he always manages to talk himself out of it.

He doesn’t want to be here now, in fact but; a job’s a job. And provided nothing too … Haven happens in the next few hours it should be a simple one; deliver the package, get paid, leave. Easy. He hopes.

He finds the meet point, no problem. Even with 15 years worth of time for memories to fade and things to change, he still knows this town like the back of his hand. He’s a little early, so he waits. And then, all of a sudden, he’s surrounded by people moving far quieter than they have any right to, given how heavily armed they are. They’re good; too good for a little fishing town like Haven. He tenses, wary of being set up.

“You have a package for us,” a voice states as its owner moves out of the shadows towards him.

He opens his mouth to reply, then realises who he’s talking to and blinks in surprise. “Ian Haskell?”

Haskell isn’t surprised at all however. “Crocker. The package?”

Something about this whole thing suddenly feels very off to Duke, and he takes a step backwards.

“I can see it in the bag,” Ian points out. “Ten Grand, right?” he adds, and chucks a brown envelope over where it lands in front of Duke’s feet. “Count it; it’s all there.”

Duke picks up the money and flicks through it; it looks about right. And tucked in the envelope with it is a letter, in exactly the same format as the ones that provided him with all the other information about this job, thanking him for the delivery. He looks a little closer, just for show, but all he really cares about is the money, after all. So he hands the package over, nods to Ian and turns to leave, hoping to get out of there while Haskell is still checking it over.

But Ian barely even looks at the thing, just tosses it to one of the others. “The Chief wants to see you,” Ian tells him.

“Excuse me? I don’t know what was in that package, but I’m fairly sure it’s nothing you want Haven PD knowing about.”

A ripple of laughter runs around the room, and Duke feels that Something’s Out Of Place sensation again. Has he wandered into a parallel universe? Is there some Haven strangeness going on afterall?

“I’m not talking about the ‘chief of police’,” Ian clarifies, putting disdainful quotes around it with his intonation. “I’m talking about The Chief.”

“How many chiefs does Haven have?” Duke can’t help asking.

“You have been away a long time,” replies Ian; a statement that things had changed. “He wants to see you, and you’re going to want to see him, trust me. I don’t want to knock you out and drag you there unconscious, but I will if I have to. Are you going to come with us?”

Duke looks around the room. He has a gun tucked in his belt, of course. And he has a knife strapped to his boot, of course. He could take out a few of these goons. But a whole room full of armed and well muscled people who held themselves like they knew how to fight? He's drastically out-gunned.

“Fine. I’ll come with you.”

-

They lead him to what he had thought was another out-of-use warehouse (Haven always tended to have a few of those). It looked abandoned from the outside, but once they got in there, was full of life. He doesn’t have time to take in all of the details as they walk through the first room (too busy checking for potential routes of escape), but he knows an illegal operation when he sees one, and this is bigger than a lot he's seen. Ian walks him up to a door with a couple of heavies standing guard outside it, the whole thing feeling more like a bad gangster movie every second.

One of the heavies nods to Ian, who opens the door and tells him, “The Chief will see you now.”

Duke gives him a look as he walks past him, still trying to work out what’s going on here, still trying to work out how the feckless Haskell has become so confident and efficient. Then he turns to look at the room he’s in; an office. A simple, normal office, with a noticeboard behind the desk and a plant on the filing cabinet. The occupant of the office - this apparent ‘Chief’ - has his back to them as they walk in, but Duke knows who it is even before he turns around. It just takes his brain a moment to catch up with what he’s seeing. But then turn around he does, and Duke finds himself face-to-face with those perfect blue eyes for the first time since they got into a massive fight about going travelling when they were 21.

“Nathan?!”

“Crocker. You made it," Nathan replies with a faint and slightly disinterested surprise.

Duke on the other hand is so surprised he has to sit down

-

To be continued ... (hopefully)

#haven syfy #nathan hansen

[jamespotterthefirst]

Everything I Wanted (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,700 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: After all this time, her social media posts have a way of captivating him...until he turns the tables on her.  Part 3 of Lovely and Ocean Eyes.

________________ Ethan walked down the corridor on a seemingly normal workday, far too aware that his steps were lighter and the smile he fought so hard to conceal made its appearance more often than not. For the sake of his reputation, he schooled his features into his usual unwelcoming and severe expression, though part of him worried that he was fooling exactly no one. 

Perhaps his face betrayed the way his pulse picked up pleasantly at the memory of the shy smile she offered him every time they crossed paths. The simple gesture was enough to brighten his mood, no matter how stressful his day. Somewhere down the line, Ethan had surrendered to the effortless way Dr. Lilac Allende drove him to distraction.  

His good mood quickly soured, however, when he walked past the locker room on the third floor. Typically, he studiously blocked out all the mindless conversations that drifted out into the hall, but a particular name caught his ear.

“Damn,” a tall, burly intern was saying as he glanced at his phone. “I knew Dr. Allende was hot but.. just wow.”

His friend closed the locker door and walked over to glance at the screen, nodding in approval. “What's her deal? She single?” 

The first intern scoffed, almost derisively. “Thinking of asking her out, Reyes?” 

Reyes looked unabashed, maintaining an easy grin that was almost arrogant. It made Ethan want to punch it right off his face. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Is she still with Lahela? They were a thing a while back, I think?” 

Ethan had the mad urge to step in and correct the false statement, but he abstained. The two morons before him had no right to Lilac's personal life. 

Reyes stared at the phone screen again and gave a low whistle. “Her Pictagram is a work of art. The things I'd do–” 

“The things you're going to do, Dr. Reyes, are your actual job duties,” Ethan said through girt teeth, stepping into the room. 

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance or the downright murderous glare the older doctor was sending their way, but the pair of interns fumbled, the first one almost dropping the phone. By the time they straightened up to face Ethan, they looked far too rigid, uncomfortable, and downright terrified. The verbal lashing he unleashed on them was one for the books. In the end, there was no trace of arrogant smirks as both interns walked away, pale and with the extra workload Ethan assigned. 

Finally alone, he exhaled a sharp, steadying breath. At least there were a few guarantees in life, even if things had changed: he could still reduce grown men to tears and these damn interns were going to drive him to an early grave. 

Considerably calmer, Ethan produced his phone from his pocket and opened the too familiar Pictagram page. One glance at her latest picture and the two idiots' reactions made sense, even if they were still not justified.

Fucking hell. 

Just like his moronic predecessors, Ethan almost dropped his phone, stifling a cough. Any trace of gentlemanly thoughts vanished as his eyes took in her bare shoulder, exposed so intentionally and coyly. All he could think about was running his lips along the curve of it, his fingers slowly tugging the black robe lower until it pooled on his floor. 

Before his primal mind could add his teeth and the moans she'd reward him with to this fantasy, his eyes fell on the caption. 

Stay? 

Ethan could hardly fight back the grin the single word inspired. The previous morning, as she had stopped by his office to use his coffee machine, he pointed out how useless Pictagram was. Lilac was quick to remind him that he seemed to be enjoying it, referencing the reaction he'd had to her previous posts. Determined to save face, Ethan had blurted that he might even delete his account.

A smug smile over her shoulder had been her reply along with a sultry promise. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

She had accomplished just that along with taking root in his every thought. The need to see her became so acute, that he sought her out in every hallway he turned into. Finally, he found her in one of the break rooms, laughing and chatting with her intern, Dr. Ortega. 

 “This coffee machine is the worst,” he heard Ortega complain. She rattled the cup as though the action would force it to hurry. “I can't believe I'm going to be late because of shit coffee.”

Lilac laughed. “Shit coffee is better than no coffee.” 

“Spoken like someone who has a mysterious coffee source.” 

With another laugh, Lilac mimed zipping her lips shut. Dr. Ortega snorted with laughter, which was a rare enough sight. 

“At least rounds are not with Dr. Ramsey this morning,” Ortega continued as she sniffed disapprovingly at her cup. “I'd be dead meat for being even two minutes behind.”

“And that's considering the guy's mellowed out in the past few months,” a nurse chimed in from his place at the loveseat. “He was far grumpier before. Something or someone is putting that man in a good mood every night.”

Ethan felt his neck flare up, his eyes solely on Lilac, looking as lovely as ever and utterly unfazed. 

“That poor soul,” Lilac commented so convincingly, Ethan almost believed it. “Whoever that is.”

The nurse had no reaction, invested in his newspaper as he was and Ortega threw a hesitant smile at Lilac. 

“I always kind of thought you two had a thing,” she confessed. 

Lilac did not even react, taking a sip of her to-go cup. “Because I'm his so-called favorite?” When Esme nodded, Lilac shrugged. “Being on his radar comes with its cons.”

At this, Ortega nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he's harder on you, for sure.”

That was his cue. With absolutely no preamble, he marched into the breakroom, startling the three occupants with his mere presence. 

“Allende, if you are done with your morning gossip session, I'd appreciate you getting me those labs I asked for.”

Lilac pushed herself off the counter at once. “Yes, doctor.” 

They stared at one another, neither betraying a single emotion. 

“Now. It's not like lives depend on it or anything.”

Ortega shot Lilac a sympathetic look, no doubt reconsidering her previous thoughts of their involvement. Without another word, Lilac followed Ethan out of the break room. Once they were alone in a deserted hallway, Lilac raised a brow at him. 

“You didn't ask for any labs,” she said at the same time Ethan blurted out, “'That poor soul'?”

Lilac laughed and he joined her with a chuckle soon after, their bodies comfortably gravitating closer to each other. His hands throbbed with the raw, poignant need to touch her and the blinding disappointment of being unable to. The way Ethan longingly looked at her then, drinking in every one of her beautiful features, he imagined he looked like some yearning nineteenth century gentleman straight out of an Austen novel. 

“Mine was more believable,” she pointed out, that witty, playful challenge in her eyes. An Elizabeth Bennet to his hopeless and bewitched Darcy. 

“Not remotely,” he returned without missing a beat. “No one would deem the person having sex with me every night as 'poor.'”

“They would when said person could barely walk the next day.”

That made Ethan pause, the bravado slipping as his eyes fell on her rosy lips. His breath caught audibly at his throat. 

They were standing so close together now, eyes locked on each other with palpable magnetism. If anyone walked by they would be found out without a doubt. Even more so if Ethan gave into the burning urge to kiss her right there and then. 

Lilac gave him a coquettish smirk. “Did you like my post?” 

Ethan found his voice again. “It was…”

There was no appropriate word to describe the delicious, sinful perfection of it. 

“Nice?” she teased. 

“Dr. Reyes and his idiot friend definitely thought so.”

Lilac snorted. “That explains the DM that sits unopened in my inbox. Jealous?” 

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. They're not the ones who have me in their bed every night.” 

Ethan almost stuttered like an imbecile. He fought back all indecent thoughts and returned, “You forget I have you against multiple different surfaces, Rookie.”

She paused briefly, eyes dark as they traveled down his body and back to his eyes again.

Fuck, she had him. He knew the look too well. 

“Or against no surface at all, as you proved on your birthday.” 

Ethan cursed. 

Everything in her expression suggested that she fancied herself the victor of their Pictagram debate. Matching her smug smirk with a dashing smile of his own, he decided then to give her a taste of her own medicine.

________________________

Ethan, ever the prophet, had predicted the board meeting they were both required to attend would be pointless. 

He had been right, of course. They both sat in the boardroom forty minutes into it, listening to Dr. Cyrus drone on endlessly about something that had little to do with patient care. Listening was a generous term because Lilac remained focused on her laptop, diligently updating patient files. Ethan, sitting across from her, was doing much of the same, the glare of his screen reflecting on his glasses. 

Soon, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled her away from her concentration. Her heart leaped when she saw it was a notification alerting to his latest Pictagram post. Confused, Lilac glanced up at him but he was too invested in his work to notice. 

After ensuring no one was paying her any mind, she opened the app and regretted it at once. 

One quick glance at artfully sculpted muscles and Lilac was reduced to a coughing mess. Dr. Cyrus stopped mid sentence to glare at her. Everyone else in the room followed suit to stare. 

“Dr. Allende, are you alright?” Naveen asked with concern. 

Ethan wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, his lips quirking ever so slightly, his fingers brushing hers. After a quick sip, she mumbled, “I'm fine. Sorry.”

Convinced, they resumed the meeting. 

Lilac, meanwhile, attempted to catch Ethan's eye to throw him a glare, but he remained laser focused on his screen. Having no other alternative, she returned her attention to the picture. Soon, she was texting him. 

Your one follower approves. 

Her phone dinged almost immediately after with his reply. Her pulse spiked with excitement, which was ridiculous because she slept with the man every day. 

I am aware. We all saw. 

Cheeky bastard. 

That was a low blow, Ramsey. And with a picture I took too. 

He almost smiled when he read that. 

Pay attention, Rookie. 

She bit her lip, glancing up at him. Ethan was the perfect picture of professionalism, his stoic expression betraying nothing as he worked. Her eyes returned to the picture, her cheeks flushing. 

Oh, I am. 

To the meeting. 

Oh. Dr. Cyrus has my undivided but unwilling attention. 

Liar, he returned at once. For a man who claimed to hate texting, he was a master at sending them without anyone's notice. 

I can tell because you actually look interested in what you're doing. 

Lilac almost laughed out loud at that. She quickly turned her head away from the front of the table to avoid suspicion. 

I am studiously taking notes. 

Unless you're jotting down all of Cyrus's brown-nosing remarks to Naveen, I highly doubt that. 

This time, a small squeak of laughter escaped her. Luckily for her, she was able to mask it perfectly with a dainty cough. No one at the table gave her a second glance, except for Ethan. Handsome as ever, his mouth quirked ever so slightly. 

I don't need to take notes on that, she replied. I already know how to get on my boss's good side. 

She watched as Ethan imperceptibly read her text, having no visible reaction. 

Time to go in for the kill. 

And the best side to get on is under him. 

This time, it was Ethan who sputtered slightly and coughed. A furious blush started to color his neck and ears in a way that was entirely too satisfying. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't finished yet. 

Although he actually enjoys me on top of him too. 

Those piercing blue eyes found hers instantly, so dark and smoldering that she was struck motionless for a second. A familiar, molten heat pooled in her belly as Ethan's lustful gaze remained on her, unwavering. The longer they stared at each other, magnetized, the more evident it became that he would take her right there and then if it weren't for the company surrounding them. 

When the meeting was adjourned for a break twenty minutes later, Lilac was assured that her texts had the intended effect. The tall, hard body of her boyfriend pressed hers flush against the door of his office the second it closed. A second after that, his full lips hungrily kissed her neck, his powerful hands gripping handfuls of her hips. 

“You're determined to kill me,” he muttered darkly against her skin. 

“But what a way to go,” she said in a whisper that gave way to a moan at the last word. 

He agreed in the form of a husky groan that resonated deliciously against her throat. With almost lazy effort, he turned her body to face the door, strong hands guiding her backside to press urgently against him. 

“The way you tease me, Lilac,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending a powerful shiver through her. His hips began guiding her toward the nearest table with ease, his fingers slowly skimming their way up her thighs and under her skirt. 

“You like it,” she challenged breathlessly. 

Ethan hummed against her shoulder, pulling her blouse down in a perfect rendition of her post. 

“It's torture.” Another searing kiss. “Seeing the way you look at me and not being able to take you against the nearest wall.”

Lilac had a witty response ready, but at that exact moment, his thumbs hooked around the lacy fabric of her underwear. 

“Are these for me?” His voice was nothing more than gravel. Lilac's legs quivered, every sense proudly dominated by him. 

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering closed in a heady rush. He had her bent over the table, her skirt bunching to indecent heights around her thighs. 

Without another word, he removed the garment skillfully, sliding it slowly down her legs and bunching it in his fist. Lilac pressed herself further against him, aching painfully for him. 

“Use them to tie me up,” she suggested in a ragged whisper. 

Ethan cursed. 

His hips jerked against hers, sliding the thick, hard column of his body against her. Lilac was so overcome with maddening need that her arms almost gave out from balancing her on the table. 

She never found out if Ethan was delirious enough to take her whispered advice because both of their pagers went off with infuriating insistence.

 “The meeting from hell that never ends,” he groaned. “Break is over.”

Lilac straightened against his chest, smirking when he made no movement to let her go. “To be continued?” 

Ethan leaned in to kiss her neck. “Your bed or mine?” 

Lilac swiveled in his hold, facing him with a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Doesn't matter as long as it's you next to me.”

He matched her smile with an unfairly charming one of his own. 

Though they were needed at the Board meeting, they stole another minute together in each other's arms. Lilac studied his handsome face briefly, feeling her heart restart as it often did when she realized he was finally hers. Perhaps he was hers in secret for the time being but he was hers nonetheless. The thought that after all the strife and hardship, she still found herself where she belonged, in his arms, made her smile grow wider. 

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“I love you,” she told him, not for the first time. 

It was his turn to give her a smile so incandescent that it stole her breath. “That's a relief,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Given that I am madly and desperately in love with you, Rookie.”

_____________

Author’s Note: Are we okay after those two new OH chapters?

I’m not! I have some ideas for future fics but we’ll see if the writing gods are in my favor. 

Thank you for reading this senselessness. I love you for it.

-Bree

_______________

Please let me know if I need to add/remove you. You might have asked me already but I can barely keep track of my life atm. Sorry!

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[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not. 

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible. 

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night. 

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest. 

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.” 

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!” 

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat. 

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.” 

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it. 

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next. 

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?” 

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together. 

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.” 

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions. 

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.” 

“What’d you need help for?” he continues. 

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer. 

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down. 

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening,  you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much. 

NEXT CHAPTER.

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#Steve Rogers #marvel masterlist #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fic #captain america imagine #captain america imagines #cap #Marvel writing #marvel fic #marvel #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #jammywrites

[sabraeal]

All That Remains, Chapter 7: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 4]

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @claudeng80​′s birthday! I’m only a week and change late this time, but everyone knows what they’re getting into when they request this fic for gifts-- aka, me dithering for weeks on if a chapter needs to be cut and where it inevitably needs to happen. But here is an almost 5K labor of love...and a little bit of hope... :3c

It would easy to speak of good and evil, would it not? To condemn a sorceress for her conjuring, to pity a girl and her deception. That is the way such tales are crafted: for simplicity, moral lines drawn in the sand.

But life does not fit so easily into the pages made to contain it. A line of prose may distill it to its essence, but a word spoken, an act done by a living creature-- these contain multitudes.

“Well.” Lady Mihoko fixes a shrewd glance over the rim of her teacup, pinning Shirayuki to her chair. Bombazine may creak with her every breath, but when Mihoko sets her demitasse upon its saucer, it is silent. “You are much improved.

The words alone would make a compliment, but with the way her ladyship threads them through her teeth, it is an accusation. Her eyes narrow even now, a proctor determined to catch her pupil filching answers from across the aisle.

Still, it’s the kindest words Mihoko has ever managed to spare, and Shirayuki seizes them with both hands. “Thank you, Lady Mihoko.”

All her ladyship’s fine graces do not restrain her from a humorless grunt. “Do not think it so fine a feat. You could hardly have gotten much worse.” With another contemplative sip, she adds, “But your progress is at least...heartening. You might not be entirely hopeless.”

Polite, tea-appropriate smile firmly in place, Shirayuki casts her eyes down at her plate. How fortunate she is to be able to experience such a fine example of being damned by faint praise.

He mouth does not twitch; by now, she knows better than to allow any of her facial muscles free reign in the presence of the lady-- but it does waver. It was not her own voice lilting those words.

A toe nudges her ankle; the consort’s countenance is carefully composed of bland inquiry across from her.

“You are too kind,” Shirayuki manages, smile polished back to its original brilliance.

“I am.” She settles back in her chair, spine straight as a rod, conveying that her enjoyment of the meal now resides firmly in the past. “You are lucky indeed that Her Majesty deigned to take a girl like you under her wing. How fitting it is that my best student is responsible for righting my worst.”

“It is only because I had such a good tutor that I could even attempt to teach.” The consort sets her own cup onto its saucer, mouth rounded in a pleasant curve. Shirayuki’s never mastered the art of it, to smile to brightly with so little teeth or crinkling around the eyes, but on Haki the effect seems natural, right. “But I must say that Lady Shirayuki is a pleasure as a student. A quick mind and a dedicated learner.”

“What she lack in aptitude she certainly makes up with vigor,” Mihoko allows grudgingly. “In my day, that would not be near enough to make a lady.”

It would be easy to condemn the sorceress, would it not? To raise the roses from their bed and cast the bright light of truth upon them, to drag her into the village square and expose her as a deceiver, a most vile villainess to lead this stray girl astray. We would stretch our hands through the pages if we could but shake our girl awake, if we could put our hands around the throat of the conjuress and see she never bent another illusion--

But that would miss the point entirely. You were told, so long ago now, that life does not fit into the narrow confines fiction demands. Surely you have not forgot?

There is a reason for every action. Unfortunately.

“That is true enough.”

The consort speaks in honeyed tones, mouth composed in a thoughtful pout. But that, Shirayuki knows, is merely an inoffensive mask she wears, one that may be discarded at a moment’s notice. It is always her eyes betray her, burning with an intelligence she can never fully quench.

“But was that not also the era of the former Viscount Yuris? Or the Counts of Sui and Lido?” It should be an accusation, a condemnation, but from the consort’s mouth, it is little more than a polite conversation, small talk between two peers. “So many traitors in so few years.”

Shirayuki may have gained some dominion over her face, but not near enough to keep from glancing at Lady Mihoko.

“That is the nature of the peerage,” her ladyship says after a long moment, mouth pursed in a moue of discomfort. “There are always some that choose to overreach their bounds. It is up to every lord to manage his lands in his own way. Though I know Your Majesties have...newer ideas about such things.”

“Better ideas,” the consort reminds her, both silk and steel entwined. “Under the late king, the court grew indolent, as did the crown. If he had not passed when he did, Clarines might have become another Tanbarun.”

Shirayuki’s teeth grit down, stemming the tide of protest that crashes against  them. She had fled her home with little pride or trust in its royals, and it’s not as if she cares for the institution, but-- Raj was no longer the embarrassment he’d once been. It’d be a long time before he’d earn as lofty a reputation as Izana or Zen, but, well, he was trying. And as long as his father remained on the throne, that was enough.

She doubts either of them would appreciate the opinion. It’s not as if any of this is about Tanbarun after all.

Mihoko clucks her tongue. “I would not venture to say we had fallen so far as that.”

“No,” Haki agrees, so pleasant. “But I would.”

A silver spoon clatters to a dish, Mihoko’s aged fingers trembling above it. “That would be your prerogative, Your Majesty.”

“It is my prerogative to see to the quality of my husband’s court, my lady. While once this may have referred to the breeding of its members, I believe we have come beyond that. After all, Lord Zakura was hardly born with silver in hand, or Lord Sui, or Countess Yuris.” The consort hums, delicately setting aside her demitasse. “There would be worse things than to see one of the finest minds of our time raised to a position which suited it.”

Her ladyship does not smile-- a terrible business, nowadays, she would cluck, spoon chiming against the rim of her cup, men should know that every smile returns tenfold in ten years’ time-- but there is a softening in her face. Not of agreement, but allowance.

“We shall see,” she sniffs, waving away another tray of sandwiches. “In time. But none of that removes what a wonders you have wrought with this one, and in less than a month’s time.”

Haki dips her head, the barest bow. “Imagine what a lifetime might bring.”

“Yes.” Mihoko narrows her eyes above the rim of her cup. “Quite unforeseeable.”

What does it mean to conjure, to summon something from nothingness, to breathe life where there once was none? It is no mere illusion; not smoke and mirrors and lies shined until gleaming. Not just a lady’s magic, no substance nor thought, made of wishes and air alone.

No, it is creation; the act of sinking one’s hands into clay and forming something utterly unlike its origin, to take one’s will and give it form. It is any surprise that it is the provenance of women?

But that is the thing, is it not? For every creation, there must be a will, must be a spark. For man to be made flesh, there must first be clay. For illusion to be made real, there first must be a wish.

“One, two-- a sprightly pace if it pleases you, my lady! Lift your feet--”

Sweat spirals down her spine, but Shirayuki picks her heels up of the floor, her sashay the barest whisper of slipper sliding across wood. Far from the ethereal wood nymphs cavorting across the palace’s walls, but it carries her across the floor with far more grace than she’s ever managed before. Like flying, provided it was a hen across the chicken yard.

Shirayuki careens more than glides to the next sequence-- the turn, three, four, return, one, two-- and her heart lodges firmly in the vicinity of her throat. She’s never managed this one before, not without stomping on Arundo’s toes or gravity ruthlessly asserting it dominion over her, dragging her to the earth where she belonged, but--

Haki’s hand squeezes tight around hers before lightening into a lift, pulling right over her head. She curls under it, up-up-down, before swinging back, far less measured, but a thousand times more triumphant.

So many of these story children start with nothing-- unloved and unmissed, abandoned by their parents, scorned by those meant to replace them. But this girl--

This girl was loved. She did not have the mother and father that so many other had, one taken by fate and the other duty; but her grandparents tended her in their place. While other little girls were scrubbing floors, or chopping wood, or being chased into the forest with only the bread in their pockets, she was adored; a treasure on her home’s hearth.

And then, in a breath, it was gone. No time for tears, for contemplation. No time for grief.

She does what all bold little girls do: she moves forward, she adapts. All those fears and grief she locks away; a little drawer inside her mind that only opens in the dead of night, when sleep won’t come to her. How worn those memories are by now, frayed about the edges, folded and thin from neglect.

Strange how it is always children who bear the heaviest burdens. Stranger still that they can grow to used to them, that they can bear them even unto adulthood and hardly realizing they are carrying them at all.

That is, of course, until they are lifted.

“You did it!” Haki catches her arms, stopping Shirayuki’s body from crashing into hers, a smile stretched wide across her face. “With not a step missed.”

“I did,” she bursts breathlessly, nearly sagging in relief. “I did!”

A clap cracks in the cavernous room, but it is only Arundo, his own mouth parted in delight. “Brava, my lady! I am most impressed.”

“As well you should be!” The consort steps back, letting her stand on her own two feet. “There are plenty young ladies I have seen on a dance floor that have not done half so well as Lady Shirayuki.”

Even flushed with victory, Shirayuki knows that for an exaggeration; a thick bit of flattery to bolster her confidence. But it hardly matters, not when she traveled the whole floor without a single misstep.

“I truly despaired of ever teaching Lady Shirayuki much more than swaying in place.” Arundo glances at her partner shyly, color high in his cheeks. “I see it merely took a deft lead.”

“Ah, Master Arundo, it takes a woman to understand how difficult a lady’s part may be.” Haki huffs out a laugh that is far less dainty than one she uses in front of courtiers, sweeping long strands of gold from the frame of her face. “If I knew which place to help, it is only because I remember where I most needed it. As my dancing instructor used to say, we all start at the same place.”

“Still,” Arundo insists, “for you to be able to dance the man and the woman’s part-- a most impressive feat!”

“Not at all!” Haki loops the last of her wisps around her ears, and just like that, the consort’s smiling mask slips into place. “This is but a simple waltz. You yourself must know a hundred or more, and dance both parts with skill besides.”

The dance master waggles a finger at her, playful. “Ah, but in the realm of grace and elegance, Your Majesty has far outstripped my paltry skill.”

With the high drama for which the Viandese were known, Arundo swept into a deep bow, bending near in half. Over his back, Haki glanced at her wide-eyed, mouth twitching, though any proof of it was gone before he rose.

“Please, Master Arundo, I am merely well-practiced.” The consort’s mouth tilts, a wry smile playing at her lips. “Izana and I often switch when we...”

Haki’s eyes pulse wide, her cheeks blossoming with a delicate pink. “In any case, I would not have done so well had Lady Shirayuki not already been through the best instruction.”

You see, Miss? Obi’s laugh is bright in her ears, as if he were only right beside her. Anyone can do it. And if you stumble, only stand on my feet and I’ll guide us both through it--

An arm slips through hers, the consort leaning close. “Won’t my brother be surprised to see such progress?”

Shirayuki cannot fathom why Makiri might care about her dancing. He’s seen it before, both of them often pressed into the same endless dinner parties at Lilias, the sort that always seemed to turn into dancing and awkward moonlight professions. He’d been light on his feet when any of the girls dared to approach, not a born dancer like Haki, but a competent one; when she’d clomped past him, dragged by regretful partners, he’d only raised an eyebrow-- an improvement upon the usual sneers she garnered from fellow revelers. He’d never been forced onto her dance card, but still--

Haki slips her a wink, and oh, it’s not her brother she means, but Zen.

You’re supposed to be learning to dance with him, after all. Even in memory, Obi’s smile cuts like a knife’s edge. No wife dances with any man besides her husband.

Shirayuki’s palms sting where her nails cut crescent into them. This room, it’s-- it’s far, far too small. Too tight. So confining, little more than a cage--

“Shall we break for a moment?” Arundo’s jovial lilt crashes through her thoughts like a bird to a window. “And then we shall start the next!”

“A perfect idea, Master Arundo.” Haki smiles down at her, so bright that the shadows of her thoughts burn away. “I dare say my sister has earned a break.”

It was always just enough for this little girl: a grandfather, a grandmother, a loving home and hearth. There had been no dreams of another there, not even when she lost them, not even when she pruned her roses and found another set of hands to take hers. Not even when those hands became a home in themselves.

But with a single word, uttered so casually, a drawer springs open.

Sister. The word echoes through Shirayuki’s head as they walk. There’s an itch of irritation beneath her skin, a pebble in her metaphorical shoe, but still--

Sister. She’s damp, not gently dewed like Haki, so drenched in sweat that her dress clings to her. Fatigued too, every muscle aching, including a few that hadn’t been in her textbooks. She has every reason to want to bury herself in her covers, to try to find the reason her skin feels too tight.

But that’s not what her attention’s caught on, not in the slightest.

“I’m not your sister,” she says, wishing she hadn’t at all. It would be so easy for it to be taken away, for that soft glow in her chest to be snuffed out.

“No,” Haki agrees, looping her arm through hers as if it belongs there, as if she belongs. “But you will be.”

In the morning the girl rose, the cottage empty save for the scent of honeysuckle and forsythia. Her small feet padded across the floor, right to the window latched tight against the night. She pushed up to tip-toe, fingers flicking against metal, and--

And her first sight was a garden, piled high with blooms; a paradise that belonged on a canvas in oils, not at her fingertips.

Do you see? the sorceress asks, rising from where she tends her beds. I awake to this glory every morning. You could as well, if you wanted.

I can’t, the girl says, certain.

The sorceress blinks. And why not?

I... The girl stares out over all this beauty, its scent surrounding her. I do not remember.

Ah, well then. The sorceress smiles, the way she always thought her mother would, had she known her. Then stay a while, and perhaps we will help you remember together.

“May I...” Shirayuki hesitates, biting her lip as they take another winding curve through the halls. The longer she stays within the palace, the more she’s certain: she could live a lifetime here and never knows all the twists and turns it takes. “My I ask you a question?”

The consort peers down at her, both eyebrows lifted in gentle question. “You may.”

“How do you do this all day?” Shirayuki restrains herself from sagging in her stays, whalebone the spine that keeps her upright. “It’s hardly evening and if I hold my shoulder back a moment longer, I think I’ll...”

Collapse, she means to say, but it lingers at the tip of her tongue, too sweet, too untrue. Scream is close, rend this dress to pieces closer still, but closest--

Her mind snaps tight around the thought, a steel trap with a wolf’s paw between its teeth. From the murmurings she’s heard since she first came to Clarines, Wistal has seen enough madness for a lifetime.

“Ah, you see, the secret is--” Haki leans in, looping her arm through hers-- “I don’t.”

Shirayuki blinks.

“You are still learning,” the consort continues, setting herself upright, setting their arms into the proper form ladies strolling. “And thus, you must memorize protocol every day, eat your meals under supervision, and practice the mazurka. I, however, have mastered all this, and thus, I cannot remember the last time I waltzed outside a ball.”

“But the etiquette--” the poise, the presence, the elocution-- “surely..?”

“Well, of course.” She shrugs, jostling their elbows. “But those lessons were a part of my childhood, much like how you probably learned to cook and clean and pick herbs instead of poison. It all becomes second nature to you, in time.”

Shirayuki doesn’t have the heart to tell her how easy it was to mistake mushrooms, but her point-- well, it’s a good one. “I’m not sure that will ever happen for me.”

“Perhaps not,” the consort allows mildly. “Certainly they will never seem as natural to you as they might to a lady born to manors and castles. And had you continued to try to learn manners from a book, than you would have had no hope at all. But--” Haki pulls her closer to her side, mouth curled with satisfaction-- “you are not alone, you have me.”

Her cheeks flush with heat; the very same as the flame that warms her chest. “Do I?”

“You do.” The consort nods, the sort that says she expects her will to be followed to the letter. “I have always wanted to share these things with someone. Alas, I was given but a single brother, and he my elder. But now I have you.”

What was it we said? A human heart has four chambers, beating in concert. A complex thing, a puzzle box of wants and desires, one buried beneath the other, a dangerous tower of longing crushed inside a container too small to hold it. And all of us live our lives never knowing its depths, not until a drawer springs open, and oh--

Oh how easy it is for our longing to sneak up on us, all unknowing. How easy it is to be blinded by it.

When the consort smiles-- really, truly smiles-- it’s too bright, like looking into the sun, and Shirayuki has to duck her head or be blinded. She’s light-headed from only a moment of basking in its radiance; she can’t imagine what might happen if she dared to look more.

“Besides,” Haki continues blithely, skirts brushing their slippers as they walk. “You could drop an entire tureen on my brother and I think he would adore you just the same. Maybe even more, if you dropped it on the right person.”

A laugh bubbles up from her, and oh, oh, it has been far too long-- it leaves her, a cage thing finally freed from its chains, and rampages through the hall.

Haki stares down at her, pale eyes wide and almost wary. For a moment her mouth works, rounding as if she might say, a lady laughs like a bell, not a gong, just like Mihoko--

And then she joins in, just as wild.

But how can she forget about her precious boy, you might ask? How can she forget about her home?

The answer is easy enough: one must only provide a new one. Oh, how easily a heart may be fooled when the illusion is so pleasant, when it is so wanted. Men on the verge of death imagine entire cities in the desert, oases just over the horizon, luring them yet another step to their doom. When there is no relief, no hope, when only doubts encompass us--

That is when we are most in need of fiction. Of an escape, of respite. How simple it can be to close ones eyes to harsh reality when it is paradise that lays before them.

But take heart-- such things never last. They cannot. It is folly to suggest there is no life without suffering-- an excuse to give breath to all kinds of evil-- but for plenty to have meaning, there must be a lack. To know joy there must be sadness, to know wisdom there must be ignorance, and when all one’s days are filled with a mindless, monotonous bliss--

Well, there is no paradise from which man does not escape, and no garden that will keep a little girl from what she seeks.

“Ah!” Haki’s jolts ahead, a filly at the end of her lead. Shirayuki nearly is dragged with her, her feet stumbling over the hem of her gown, but the consort extricates herself just in time, setting her to rights.

“Just-- just wait here a moment, if you would,” the consort tells her, fingers wound tight over the rounds of her shoulders. “It seems as though there is, ah, someone waiting for me at the door. I’ll only be-- a moment.”

Shirayuki blinks as the consort scurries away, skirts sweeping against the carpet in a rhythm and pace too hurried for Clarines’ stately queen. “But, your room is...”

Around the corner, she almost says, a better shorthand for not yet visible, which is what she means. Both points are moot; the consort springs away long before she can speak, the only part of her that remains the lagging lace of her train. And then even that is gone, all disappeared down the hall.

Perhaps it is the angle, Shirayuki allows. With her on the inside of the turn and the consort on the outside...?

Well, it hardly matters. She huffs out a breath, straightening her shoulders, and comes to stand in the intersection. This is a safe enough place to wait; the consort’s chambers are the first door on this hall, and--

And there is someone waiting. Or was, since all she catches of them the flash of a white coat.

The girl knows every inch of this garden in time, every undying bloom. For that is what they must be, at least for them to be so many, for so long. There are daffodils and daisies, dahlias and tulips, marigolds and gardenias, lilacs and lilies of the valley. A hundred flowers and more, too many to ever name crawling up lattice and sprawling over the bounds of their beds.

And yet, there is something missing. It sits at the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she cannot find the word, no matter how long she thinks on it. The only thing that comes to her is the memory of loam, and the warmth of hands brushing hers.

Don’t ever leave me, the sorceress would say, a smile on her lips, fingers tangled in her hair.

How could I, the girl would laugh, an inexplicable knot of dread tightening in her belly, when everything is so beautiful here?

“Shirayuki!”

Haki approaches her, smile wide and warm but also-- strain lingers at the corners. Maybe even displeasure. “I thought you were going to wait.”

“I was,” she says, wide-eyed. “I mean, I am. Who was...”

“No one.” The consort waves her off. “Just a delivery. A tisane. For my migraines. I ran out just the other day.”

“Oh.” Her mouth works, grasping for the words that had come so easily no so long ago, but now were like grinding glass. “From the pharm--?”

“Come!” Haki sweeps her arm up into her own, pulling her firmly against her side. “It’s time for dinner, isn’t it? We must see that you’re ready.”

It ends like this: she finds a petal.

It is no crimson red, no passionate pink, but instead a simple and clean white, not so unlike the gardenia. But it is too small for such a flower, too rounded, too plush. She presses it between her fingers and it is familiar as her own skin, as the scent of vanilla on the air, and yet she cannot find the name, nor envision the bloom from whence it fell. Surely it is nothing in this garden.

What it that you have? the sorceress asks, her voice suddenly sharp, like a blade placed between skin and bloated tick. Give it here.

The little girl has not reason not to. It must have blown in from elsewhere.

The sorceress takes it in her hand, slender fingers curling into a fist around it. When they unfurl it is gone, merely dust in the wind.

We need none of that world here, the sorceress says, kinder but firm. You will never leave me, after all.

Of course, the girl says, turning to her with a wide smile. The sorceress has a new hat on, black and covered in flowers, even finer than the ones she’s worn before. Why would I, when--?

Her teeth snap down, words stuck between them. It’s the only way to be safe, the only way to stop herself from saying now what she knows she cannot. Right there, painted on the cloth, next to a blood red dahlia--

--There is a rose. The sorceress’s hat has roses, and this garden does not.

Of course, she says again, stilted. This is where I belong.

Shirayuki stands frozen in the hall, mind churning like a mill’s wheel in the storm of her thoughts. The summer months mean whites and creams and ivories are in season, a playful palette that the consort’s court adorns with floral embroidery. But she did not see a floating train of silk, or the fluttering layers of linen, but instead--

A white coat. A brown paper package done up with twine and ink scrawled illegibly on the outside, passed so quickly from one hand to the next. The scent of herbs is fresh on the air, valerian among them.

She misses it. Almost as much as she misses...

“Shirayuki?” The consort tugs at her, a question writ across her brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Haki...” Her hands clench at her side. “Has there been any news of Obi?”

That is the thing about magic: it is easy to weave wishes into illusion, but to maintain it-- a different matter entirely. A woman may send all her roses underground, never to be seen again, but to remember to remove them from every vase, from the back of a brush, from a hat--

Impossible.

“Obi?” The consort’s grip tightens, even as her smile spread wide. “No, none at all.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #All That Remains #snow queen AU #ans #i really and truly thought i'd get to finish out this section #but NO #it is not to be #to be fair it's one of the longest in the story #and it has the most like...plot movement in one piece #so i guess it makes sense #but SIGH #soon guys #soon we'll get to the turn on this #NEXT CHAPTER FOR SURE

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 11

“Did I meet your friends last night?” Kirby asked as he unwrapped his crunchwrap in the driver's seat.

“uuh...kinda? Like Toby was with me when I gave you the Surge but you sorta just ran off with it.” you pause as you sip a bit of your Baja Blast. “Like a fucking gremlin.”

Kirby lets out a snort and lettuce drops from his mouth. He tries to hide his messy eating behind his hand. Failing miserably, you can't help but laugh at your friend.

“Wha' bout the other two? Kieth said you ditched 'em.” For a man who was trying to cover up his mouth he sure had the audacity to try and talk with his mouth full.

“They're Toby's roommates, I haven't talked to them too much.” he nods as you speak.

“Well I promise I'll be more...together,” he makes a sort of questioning sound as he debates if that was the word he was looking for. He can't really think of anything else so he settles for 'together'. “next weekend. They are coming right?”

After a brief pause he gets his mind back in place, “This weekend, picnic's this weekend.” You chuckle.

“Toby said they'd stop by. Don't think any are really people people.”

“People people?”

“Yup” not going to let Kirby rile you up as he often tries. Not that he could with his current brain power. Sleep haze still has him in it's hold despite being “up” for about an hour now.

Out of everyone in your friend group Kirby is probably the one you're closest to. Along with being a fellow Ace he's an ambivert and you two just instantly clicked over dumb D grade monster movies. He jokes you guys must be long lost siblings. Well he only started the sibling thing because multiple Hornets or other members of the committee kept thinking you guys were dating. Since then Kirby takes to purposefully calling you some variation of sibling when he shows any type of affection. It seems even just being referenced to being in a relationship squicks him out. You don't mind though you'd always wanted an older brother and Kirby is the exact type you would've wished for. The funny dork who was super easy to get along with.

Even when he steals your nachos...like he is now.

“I'm starting to understand the Cain Instinct.” you say looking him dead in the eyes. He lets out a roar of laughter and reminds you he bought “breakfast”.

“Dad tax and all that.”

“You're not my dad! Ugly ass doodoo head.”

“Is that what that kid said? I don't think that's right.” another thing you share is constantly referencing vines or tiktok sounds.

This of course led to an argument of what the kid actually said in the vine. Both of you were determined to get home and look it up to prove the other wrong.

After your breakfast Kirby started the truck as you put all the trash into the Taco Bell bag. You switch on his stereo much to his chagrin. Kirby got a CD stuck in the radio and now the only thing he can listen to is a meme mix tape he made back in high school. It was funny the first two months for him and now he prays that the novelty will ware off on you soon.

Though it has been a few weeks since he last drove you anywhere, and what can he say Discord is always a bop.

Kirby drops you off without much fanfare, you both agree to seeing each other next week at the picnic. Is it ironic that you want to call out for him to get some more sleep? Like you are the one who's been up since five AM and it's now eleven. But you have a medical condition, Kirby is just over worked and stressed beyond Hell and back.

Getting inside you have nothing really planned for today and while you could start heading out to thrifts to find something formal for Jo's recital you really don't feel like it. Productivity wise you've already had a pretty busy weekend so no one can really judge you for taking it easy and just merging with the couch for the rest of it. Even you, you can be so tough on yourself sometimes.

British Bake Off is just the thing you need to enjoy the rest of your weekend. A calming low stress but funny baking show. Just turn your brain off and lose yourself in the soothing monotone of the judges. It's nearly six in the evening when you finally shake off your lazy day haze.

Getting up, bakers still baking, you start making a simple dinner. Fried egg on toast sounds good. Also a good balance to your supreme nacho breakfast from this morning. Dressing one slice of toast in butter and the other with butter, a little mayo, and a dash of Tabasco before placing the egg on it. You head back to eat and continue watching the competition. Your meal fills you and gives the energy you need to continue “leisureing”.

After an hour you get up and wash the dishes from earlier. And while you have no energy to actually play any of your video games right now you do want to log in for your dailies.

A quick trip to your bedroom has you grabbing your laptop before returning back to the comfort of your living room. Couch calling you to it's cozy embrace. You half pay attention to what you're doing as you set up your laptop, muscles running on muscle memory more than any conscious effort on your part. You hadn't even noticed your hands flickering across the board and logging into your email.

By the time you do realize you aren't on your game's site you see you have a new email. It's from Barclay.

'Coming to ask for my help?' you think a little too smug that you'd been right about the cooking being too much for the man.

However, that wasn't what he was messaging you about. It seems he and Leo had been talking and the old man mentioned what your plans for cooking were.

Shortie,

Leo says you're making forager's pie for the picnic. Seasons ripe for ramps and mushrooms. You in for a little adventure through new unexplored territory?

...I'm hunting some lobster mushrooms, could use a hand or two Will share the bounty. ~Barclay sent 12:04 PM

An olive branch in hopes you weren't too sore about his rejection from earlier this week. The message and sentiment is lost on you since you got over that Thursday.

The idea of new terrain makes you a bit uneasy, however lobster mushrooms were pretty good and forage finds were really rare. Barclay grew up in these woods he probably knew what he was doing, not to mention he could easily know where to find ramps. Their flavor would really up your pie game. It's settled you're in for a forage date with big foot as your guide.

Am in Big Feet. When are we going? Sent 7:20 PM

Like with most things a waiting game began, down sides to living in a radio quiet community people weren't as attached to electronics because of the limited capabilities. But now that you know Barclay is emailing you, you can check your phone more often. Shutting down your laptop you close it before sliding it under your coffee table as you slide down the couch getting comfy.

It was two hours before Barclay got back to you.

Fantastic! Does Tuesday work? ~Barclay sent 9:42 PM

Barclay must be in a rush to get those mushrooms. You'd been thinking Thursday or Friday at the latest for the freshest mushrooms. Maybe he didn't need them for the picnic but a personal project. From what Jake has told you Barclay often falls into spells of testing out new ideas with the strangest of ingredients. With varying results but mainly positive ones.

Yea sure. Meet at the lodge after my shift? Sent 9:50 PM

Perfect see you then. ~Barclay sent 9:52 PM

Oki Sent 9:52 PM

Now that that has been settled you are free to continue your chill Sunday. Losing yourself to the lulling voices of the judges you hardly notice as you drift off. Warm in your throw blanket cocoon and cozy on the plush of your couch.

You jolt up right panting after being woken up by a loud bang. Or at least you thought you'd heard a bang, Sometimes auditory hallucinations came to you in your sleep no matter how well rested you were. The room around you is dark as the light from your TV is dimmed with Netflix's 'Are you still watching?' pop up mocking you for your marathon.

Without thinking you hit 'yes' and the bake off resumes. With the brightness restored you can see your living room and hallway are completely undisturbed. An auditory hallucination must have pulled you out of sleep. Nothing more, after all your stalker wouldn't get sloppy now, it's only been three weeks.

'That you know of.' seems to whisper and embed itself in your mind.

Shaking off the worrying thought you look at your phone to see it's now quarter till one. You are hungry and don't feel like cooking. Thankfully you have emergency white castles and fries in your freezer for this exact need. Getting up you go to the kitchen to microwave your food. Popping the fries in first you decide to head to the bathroom before that becomes a problem for you.

Before you go down the hallway you do end up grabbing the bat next to the bookshelf. The whisper from earlier clearly hasn't done much to settle your nerves after your rude awakening. Protection in hand you have a little less anxiety about walking down the dark hallway. You'd have to look into installing one of those cheap wall lamps from Home Depot to help you out in situations like this. Either that or a night light in your bathroom, you can probably get the night light done quicker. Maybe Leo sells them, you'll have to check next week.

You made it back to the kitchen after your bathroom break without any surprises, real or imaginary, jumping out at you. Replacing the fries inside your microwave with sliders, you snack on a few while you wait for the rest of your meal.

It's probably paranoia but you can't blame yourself for it as you continue to keep an ear out for any sound of abnormal movement within your home, as you eat and have the bake show low enough to catch the sounds of another person. None come, and you finish your food without incident. You're willing to chalk the noise up to a hallucination and your paranoia as valid but not necessary in this moment. Without much more thought you place your empty plate on the coffee table and curl back up in your throw blanket. Just like before you don't catch yourself as you fall asleep. This time you don't wake up until your phone alarm goes off for you to start your week and head to work.

The week has been much less dramatic than last week had been. But then again it is only Tuesday and you literally have gay brunch this Sunday. There will definitely be some sort of theatrics this week. Whether they come from homosexuals or your stalker is up to God.

Then later today you'll be going foraging with Barclay. And while that isn't anything dramatic it will be an adventure and, you hope, really fun! Your excitement has been tangible all day and you couldn't hold yourself back from focusing only on the clock in the shop all day. Even giddier than normal for the strike of five. With the energy rushing through you it amped up your tics but thankfully you hadn't hurt yourself in your excitement.

Even Nate is beginning to playfully tease you about your “date” with Barclay.

Great he must've been talking to Little Jo. What is it with this family and wanting you to date the lodge owner? Do you just look like the lead in a Hallmark Christmas movie that moved to a small town in order to feel the joy of the holidays? You could definitely get into the role but you don't think Barclay would be the main love interest for you.

Honestly he'd probably be the one all the viewers cheered for but you'd personally go for the puppy dog partner that has a scarred past. You have a type and your type is emotionally wounded and needing of love. That thought had made you chuckle as you and Nate closed up the store for the day.

Nate kept looking over at you throughout the day, and when he heard you giggle to yourself at closing he couldn't help the fond smile that came over his features. He could feel how his brows lifted themselves from their normally furrowed or downward tilt. He'd have let you leave early had it not been for the new procedures Big Jo had set. It's not often that your excitement shows so visibly. It's not often that the Cowell family has seen you happy like this.

But Nate understands it's not the crush that Little Jo seems to think it is, it's something more bittersweet. It's the excitement that comes from finally waning off of being isolated for so long. And boy does Nate understand that feeling. If he had to guess Nate would say you've been alone for most of your life even if you don't act like it. You need these little hangouts with your friends. So he does his fastest close yet. You both are out the door by five after and he bids you goodnight as you head to your respective cars.

With the close tonight being so quick you made it to the lodge and parked in the half full lot just before five thirty. Getting out of your car you noticed a familiar duo sitting on the stoop of the lodge.

'Something's wrong.' is the only thought you have as you walk towards the lodge.

“Hey stranger.” the brunette looks up to you at your greeting.

In this light you can just catch the slight movement of his pupils in his dark eyes as they widen in surprise.

“oh...hey?” he seems confused to see you here. Must not be used to living in a small town yet. He'll learn soon enough that you run into everyone all the time here. Sometimes multiple times a week as it would seem.

“You good?” motioning towards the hand on the back of his neck.

“Yea, fucking Bri-an Mrrow thought I needed this.” Toby moves his hand to show an ice pack that you assume he's been holding to the back of his neck.

“Heat sickness?”

“Nah, the RV's AC busted. I can probably fix it by the end of the week.” you nod.

That makes sense, after all CIPA affects thermal regulation, at least from a basic skim. You really need to get on that deep dive to make sure you're prepared for irregular injury prevention with Toby. Speaking of, the boy in front of you is just sitting here with Connor, why? Even if he's here to get a room at the lodge why didn't he just go in? Connor is a service dog after all not like anyone could turn him away. So why was Toby just sitting out here, especially if Brian thought he needed an ice pack to the neck to keep cool?

As if the universe heard your question and decided to give you an answer, Aubrey opened the door and poked her head out.

“Thanks for letting me put up Dr. Harris Bonkers. I'll keep him in my room during your stay.” Oh that makes sense Aubrey's rabbit normally has the run of the lodge. Even if Connor's a service dog and well trained Dr. Bonkers is still a prey animal with a weak heart. Seeing Connor may have stressed the poor rabbit out, if not nearly given him a heart attack.

Her russet eyes land on you when she opens the door wider to, you assume, let Toby and Connor in. They widen and Aubrey rushes in to hug you before stopping short as if remembering you don't appreciate physical contact.

“Hey YN! I didn't know you were coming over.” She says a little awkwardly mid pose for a hug.

You won't be saving her from the situation. With a smile, that she can't see, you nod.

“Barclay's taking me foraging today.”

Aubrey nods while lowering her arms and takes a few steps back so you and Toby can enter the lodge. The large foyer of the wooden chalet always looks bigger thanks to the deep red tones in it's color palette. From the dark cherry stained wood to the red rugs and table liners. Always feels a lot warmer too, but in a homey sense not the overbearing swelter of heat sense. You can't wait to see what it's like in the winter. Probably so cozy and welcoming with a fire roaring and the murmur of residents and tourist mingling over the winter festivities. There's a swell in your chest at the thought...it seems nice, you hope you're right.

'Hope you see it.' is the dark whisper that taints your thoughts.

You notice Brian and Tim are over at the counter talking to Barclay who is nodding along sympathetically to the trio's plight. He catches your eye and motions for you to wait. You'd been planning to, after all he's currently working.

Turning to Toby you see he looks a bit paler than normal, which should be a difficult feat. Aubrey had left you both, though you aren't sure if she'll be coming back with her girlfriend Dani in a moment or not. You decide to lead Toby over to the obnoxiously plush couch in the den.

It's not like the lodge is off limits to those who aren't guests, and seeing as most of it's workers live here their friends frequently come around thus using the amenities. After sitting on the couch Toby grabs at Connor's ears and starts shaking them. He isn't being rough with them despite the jerky movements and Connor seems to lean into the pet.

Just from what you can gather it seems like Toby has some pretty bad social anxiety. You really aren't sure of what you could do to help. He calmed down at the movie night with a distraction...oh that reminds you, you fell asleep on him. Figuratively and literally.

“I'm sorry for falling asleep on you.” probably not the most tactful or elegant way of bringing this up.

Toby takes a minute to register you words. Not taking his eyes off Connor or ceasing his movements he says, “Eh.” as he gives a muted shrug and continues, “Your friend...Kirby...gave you a ride right?” He said Kirby's name like a question. You'd have to formally introduce the two at some point. Probably this weekend.

“Yea, he's sorry about being a weirdo Saturday, said he'd be more “present” this weekend.”

Toby doesn't say anything more and you let a silence fall over you two. It isn't awkward, at least to you, and you're content to just sit and wait for a while. However, it doesn't take long before Tim, Brian, and Barclay are all entering the den.

“Knew they'd be here,” Barclay says to the other two, “Sorry 'bout the wait YN, Jake's comin' down to give these guys a tour an' set them up. We'll leave when he gets down.” you nod and give the other two a muted wave 'hello'.

It isn't long before Jake is sliding down the banister and leading the group out of the room before Barclay can get on to him about his juvenile behavior. Sighing at the twenty-three year old's antics Barclay turns to you and looks at what you're wearing. Hiking boots and jeans, perfect but one thing is missing.

“C'mon let's go get duct taped.”

“Duct taped?”

“Yup, keeps ticks from climbing up you.”

So you make your way to his office where he sticks duct tape, sticky side up, around each ankle and just above and below your knees. All while explaining how if a tick started to try and climb up you the tape would make them stick and stay there. You'd end up with less ticks on your torso and hopefully none at all.

In no time the two of your were in the forest two baskets in hand and hunting for your immobile prey. The ramps were super easy to find and the first you knocked off the hunt list. Barlcay said they grow in the same area every year, knowing this you may have to come and grab some the next time they're in season. You can already taste how good your forager's pie tastes with the new earthy tones. Actual mushrooms were much harder to find, aside from the lobster mushrooms you were really only looking for some hedgehog mushrooms. They aren't rare or extremely difficult to find but you two aren't having any luck.

Barclay suggested a spot just past a little pond, and while you didn't find mushrooms you did find some Black Raspberry bushes. Not one to let ingredients go to waste Barclay starts picking some, and you grab some too. Maybe baking an easy Black Raspberry cobbler will be your consolation prize. Though Barclay isn't as placated as you are with the unexpected find. The man is still on the hunt for his lobster mushrooms. So you continue scouring the path and a little bit off it in search.

“We should head back, it's dark.” you state plainly after a few hours of searching and remaining mushroom less.

Barclay agrees, but makes the comment that he'll probably come out again in a day or two.

“If I find any I'll still give you some or helping out today.”

“It's fine I've got my treasures right here.” You shrug it off, because while you are a bit disappointed, you still have ramps and the opportunity to make cobbler. It's not all bad. Barclay on the other hand, you know, will not be letting this go so you expect he'll hand you a container of mushrooms sometime in the coming month if not this weekend.

Getting back to the lodge Barclay helps you cut off the duct tape and disposes of it and the hitch hikers you picked up. He sends you off to shower and check for stragglers before he would allow you to go home. Thankfully you had the foresight to bring a change of clothes and after retrieving them from your trunk you do as you're told.

Barclay was right you hadn't had a single tick on you and you feel much better after a shower. Getting out you already smell the alluring aroma of Barclay's kitchen. You must have taken a bit longer than you intended if he was already done with his own shower and already cooking for the lodge. Heading downstairs with your duffle bag in tow, you are stopped by Dani at the door.

You haven't seen her in a bit so the two of you catch up and have a chat. After a bit Aubrey comes in with a Tupperware container of grilled salmon and veggies over rice.

“Oh I see, you were a diversion.” you said looking at Dani as you take the container. Dani gives a sheepish smile before running off to the dinning room, and after sending you a coy smile of her own Aubrey follows after.

You know you're more than welcome to join them, but you really don't have the battery for that and just want to decompress at home.

“Thank you!” you call out into the lodge, only leaving after hearing the distant chuckles drifting through the hall.

Opening the door you run right into someone. Looking up you see Toby, but he isn't wearing a mask. Instead he's wearing a large bandage on his face to cover the hole. In his hands is a box of similar bandages. Guess if they're staying for a bit he'll need them around the others.

Should you mention the others wouldn't say anything? That this whole place was like Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, but for the misfits or the weird and disowned? You aren't really sure it's your place. And you aren't really sure you're comfortable with how comfortable you've gotten with Toby. You're probably crossing some boundary by over analyzing him so much. And he doesn't even know you're doing it.

Toby knocks you out of your head when he backs away and gives you space to exit the lodge.

“Get home safe.” it falls out of his mouth so easily.

You've noticed he has a habit of saying that...why? There you go over analyzing him, you need to stop. Shaking yourself from your thoughts this time you look at Toby with a smile.

“I will...I think you'll like it here.” when you're in your car you want to slam your head on the steering wheel but Toby is still watching. Why did you say that, you're so weird.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #creepypasta fanfic #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x you #masky

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Déjà vu - Part II

Character: Bucky Barnes x Tall!Reader

Summary: Bucky thought his days of memory loss were done. But after a serious head injury, he can’t seem to remember anything past his time in Wakanda. But he’s starting feel like his life is missing more than just memories.

Word Count: 4,000

Part I

For once, Bucky got a good night’s sleep.

But when he woke up, he realized he’d dreamt about Y/N. Whether they were memories or his mind’s own creation, he didn’t know. She didn’t say anything. It was just…her. Like an old film reel without any sound. Just sunlight and clouds and Y/N.

Bucky splashed ice cold water over his face and on the back of his neck.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He was growing frustrated.

Why was his mind so weak? Why couldn’t he just remember?

Bucky gripped the edge of the bathroom counter tightly, almost too tightly.

He went to the kitchen to get some coffee and try to make something good enough to be considered breakfast.

When he walked in, he found Steve and Y/N arguing in hushed whispers.

They were standing close, getting into each other’s faces. With Y/N’s height, they were basically eye to eye. There was no fear in her eyes as she faced the super soldier that probably had 100 pounds of muscle on her.

Bucky had never seen Steve so much as talk to Y/N when they were outside of training or missions.

Bucky was able to figure out that there was some sort of falling out between the two. From what, he had yet to figure out. He tried to just blatantly ask Steve, but he got nothing.

Y/N caught sight of Bucky’s entrance over Steve’s shoulder.

Steve followed her gaze.

Their argument immediately stopped, proving to Bucky that it had most likely been about him.

“Stay–” Y/N started to say to Steve and then her eyes widened, realizing that her words started off in a command. She was always so careful how she worded everything. She couldn’t make a mistake, accidentally taking away someone’s free will. 

“Can you please stay out of it?” Y/N saved herself.

Her voice shook and Bucky swore there were tears starting to form in her eyes.

Despite hardly knowing her and Steve being his best friend, Bucky suddenly got angry from seeing Y/N upset. What the hell had Steve said to get her riled up?

Bucky stepped forward. “What’s going on?” But his tone was accusatory and he was glaring at Steve.

“Nothing,” Y/N snapped before rushing out of the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, Bucky walked further into the room. “What the hell did you say to her, Steve?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve grumbled.

“Enough!” Bucky growled.

“I’ve been trying not to bother all of you. I didn’t want to make you guys solely responsible for filling in all the blanks in my head. But there’s something going on and I’m sick of being treated like some idiot.”

Steve seemed taken aback by Bucky’s reaction.

“So what the fuck are you all hiding?” He huffed.

Steve rubbed his face. He knew his friend had a point. “It’s more complicated than that, Bucky.” Then he sighed. “Maybe it’s time to call Shuri.”

“There’s a lot going on in Wakanda right now. She’s the lead inventor of a country and a royal princess. I don’t need to bother her with my head again.”

“She’s your friend, Buck. If you don’t reach out to her or T’Challa, I will.”

Bucky clenched his teeth.

“Why do you have to be stubborn about everything?” Steve accused.

“I’m sick of being everyone’s charity case, Steve. I can’t fix myself. It has to be everyone else that does it for me. I’m tired of it.”

He didn’t let Steve have the last word and stormed out of the kitchen.

—————————

“Can’t you get rid of the resting murder face just for a couple hours, man?” Sam asked Bucky as they stood at the bar.

It was Tony’s birthday.

Bucky was still surprised that Tony had befriended him after all this time, let alone even tolerated him. He murdered the man’s parents. Last Bucky remembered, Tony had been willing to break up the Avengers just to make sure Bucky ended up in prison for the rest of his life.

“I don’t belong here,” Bucky growled to Sam.

Here he stood in an all black suit, with a fancy drink in his hand. He was surrounded by people he didn’t know, most of them either rich or important.

Nat had tried to get him to slick back his hair and put it in a bun. But Bucky swatted her hands away when she even just tried to show him.

The suit was as good as it was going to get.

“Tony and you are friends now. Whether you believe me or not, you are. So try not to look so miserable,” Sam told him calmly.

Bucky just nodded. He knew Sam had a point.

Steve had been jumping around, getting pulled into too many conversations. Everyone wanted their moment with Captain America. It reminded Bucky of his days before he actually fought in the war, how Steve felt like a dancing monkey with no other purpose.

At least he didn’t have to get paraded around like that, Bucky thought to himself.

Then there was a figure walking through the crowd, at least an entire head above everyone else.

Bucky would recognize that height anywhere.

Y/N was strolling through the party like a celestial. 

Despite already being significantly tall, she was still wearing four-inch stiletto heels. Her dress somehow managed to be both conservative and sexy, hiding her cleavage but shoving off skin in new places.

Sam watched as Bucky stared.

“Does she have a boyfriend?” Bucky asked shamelessly without taking his eyes off Y/N.

Sam smirked. “Nope.” He took a sip of his drink. “Most men are scared of her. Though…she doesn’t really make it easy for them.”

Bucky chuckled. There was a part of him that was relieved. Jealousy was not a good look on him.

Men and women eyed Y/N. It was hard not too with how much space she took up and how unashamed she went about doing it.

Women envied her statuesque figure. Some just assumed she was a model. 

Some men couldn’t help but trail their gaze down her long legs. 

“You’re not going to tell me what her deal is, are you?” Bucky asked.

Sam chuckled. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

Sam tossed back his drink then. “There’s a lot of things you have to figure out for yourself, Bucky. Whether that’s from getting your memories back or talking to her yourself, that’s your choice.”

He patted Bucky’s shoulder and mumbled something about going to find Wanda to showcase his new moves on the dance floor.

When Bucky turned back to the bar, he saw that Y/N was on the far end, waiting for her own drink.

Bucky hesitated before slowly moving to her side.

He could tell she immediately felt his presence without even glancing in his direction.

She didn’t say anything to him, but ordered a dirty martini from the bartender.

“Is this the part where you say I look beautiful?” Y/N asked without looking at him. Her tone was cold and bored.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “Something tells me you would be unimpressed if I tried to give you the compliment.” Then he leaned closer. “Even though it’s a fact.”

“Words don’t really do much for me. Especially when they come from men who want something. In the end, their words are just…empty.”

Bucky chuckled. “You must see the irony, hearing that from you of all people.”

“I give commands, not truth.”

Bucky realized this was the longest he’d ever heard her talk.

“Have you ever used them on me?” He asked.

Y/N’s entire posture stiffened. His question was the thing that finally made her actually look at him.

“I would never do that to you,” there was nothing but sincerity in her statement.

Bucky felt like he’d achieved something by catching her off guard and throwing off her act, even if it was just for a few seconds.

“What if I asked you to?” Bucky asked. His eyes were playful.

Anger flickered across her face. She threw back her martini like it was a drop of water and slammed the glass back onto the bar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She growled before shoving past him.

Bucky watched as she walked with purpose. She made her way to Tony, not caring that she was interrupting a conversation. She whispered something in his hear and kissed him on the cheek. Then she gave Pepper a hug.

Bucky watched her entire exit.

—————————————

Y/N walked a step behind Steve and Bucky. It was like they were her two bodyguards.

No matter how much she’d proven herself to the two super soldiers, they both felt the need to look out for her on every mission.

They were in Japan, trying to track down the distributor of a drug that gave people short term effects of being enhanced. Steve and Bucky almost took it personally: somebody advertising that anyone could be like a super soldier, even if it was just for a few hours. What nobody was being told was the side effects almost always ended with the user being put in a coma or having a seizure, until they’re heart just stopped beating altogether.

The Avengers didn’t know that the distributor was waiting for them.

“I don’t like this,” Bucky muttered with a gun at the ready.

“That’s what you always say,” Steve answered quietly.

Suddenly there was a whistling in the air, almost like a bullet.

Steve and Bucky quickly turned at the sound.

But when they both turned to Y/N, she was pulling something out of her neck. It wasn’t a bullet, but it was a similar shape. When she looked at Bucky, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she started to drop to the ground.

“Y/N!” Bucky called out as he dropped his gun and jumped to her, catching Y/N’s body in his arms before she could hit the ground.

“It’s a tranquilizer,” Bucky grunted.

Then there was a clapping.

Steve stood with his shield held high, putting it and himself protectively in front of Bucky and Y/N, who was now in Bucky’s arms.

Twenty something men stepped out of the darkness in front of them.

Steve and Bucky turned to see twenty more behind them, trapping them in the hallway.

Bucky cursed under his breath. His gun was still on the ground from rushing after Y/N.

A man walked out of the shadows. “We could not have your little siren using that tongue of hers against us, could we?” He said with a thick Japanese accent.

“But she did deliver both of you to me,” he added.

Bucky’s grip on Y/N tightened protectively.

“I will make you a deal,” he continued. “Give us the girl and we will let you walk out of here…alive.”

Steve narrowed his gaze. “I thought it was us you wanted?”

“I have no intention of improving my drug. It is selling fine, even with its unfortunate side effects.” He look at Y/N then. “But when I heard about her…I set my sights on something else entirely.”

“You even think about touching her–” Bucky snarled.

“You are outnumbered, Winter Soldier.”

“Bucky,” Steve warned quietly. 

Yes, they could most likely take on all the men. But they couldn’t do that and keep Y/N safe at the same time. If a fight broke out, these men could easily grab her and make a run for it.

It took the team months just to find this hideout and now they knew it had been a set up. They’d wanted the Avengers to find them here.

“Put down your weapons and we will let you say goodbye,” the leader offered.

“Do it, Bucky.” Steve ordered. But he was also telling him, ‘The team has our coordinates. They will find us soon enough.’

Steve put down his shield and held his hands up in surrender.

A man stepped out of the shadows and walked up to Bucky, tearing Y/N’s unconscious body from his arms.

“You hurt her and I’ll save you for last,” Bucky warned venomously.

———————————-

When Y/N came to, there was a device over her mouth and she was locked to a chair.

Steve was off to the side, chained to the floor like some kind of caged animal.

But across from her was Bucky, who looked beaten up. He was chained up similar to Steve, but sitting in a chair underneath a harsh light.

Despite the blood and bruises covering his, when she met his gaze he was trying to tell her everything was OK.

Y/N looked around to see that all the men in the room were wearing devices in their ears.

They knew about her ability. And they were prepared. She couldn’t control them.

“All the legends have been traveling through my world for years. I must say I did not believe them until you started working with the Avengers.”

The same leader walked into the light, introducing himself to Y/N.

“All those mysterious suicides, no proof that they were staged,” he sighed. “It was all your doing, was it not?” Y/N just glared at him.

He didn’t like that at all.

He turned and punched Bucky across the face. Y/N jumped at the sight and sound.

“They were your doing, yes or no?” He repeated.

Y/N quickly nodded.

“To think of what I could do with your power…” he thought aloud with a smile. “I wanted to see it for myself.” Then he signaled to one of his men, who then dragged in a beaten man who was crying.

“I want you tell him to beat his head into the floor until he kills himself,” the leader ordered.

Y/N looked horrified and stayed still.

Then the leader pointed a gun to Bucky’s head.

“Do it or there will be a bullet in his head.” Then he glanced towards Steve, “Or I will tell you to make Captain Rogers kill your lover.”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the word ‘lover.’

The man walked to Y/N and kneeled before Y/N. “He is your lover, is he not?” Then he read her face. “Or perhaps was… hmm? A lover’s quarrel?” He stood up, turning back to Bucky. “It does not matter. You still love him.”

Y/N was silently crying now.

Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky were desperately fighting against their restraints.

“Tell the man to kill himself or I will shoot the Soldier.” He held the gun to Bucky’s temple.

The man behind Y/N ripped the mouth guard off her face.

The only people in the room who would be effected by her powers was the trembling man on the floor, and Steve and Bucky.

Y/N was shaking and crying.

But she didn’t have a choice. 

She gave the man the command and closed her eyes as she heard him beating his head against the hard cement floor.

Y/N was fully sobbing.

She didn’t open her eyes until the room went silent.

The man was laying dead, head and face covered in blood.

Y/N was shaking as she couldn’t take her eyes off the grisly corpse. “There is more fun to be had,” was all the leader said before he and his men left the room.

Y/N was sobbing again.

“Y/N,” Bucky muttered. “Y/N, look at me.”

But she couldn’t.

“Y/N, there was nothing you could do. You didn’t do this. Do you hear me? This was not you.”

But she wouldn’t listen. She couldn’t even look at Steve and Bucky.

That’s how Tony, Nat, Sam, and Wanda found them.

Bucky didn’t even glance at them as they broke in. His eyes had been glued to Y/N the entire time.

As soon as he was cut free, Bucky booked it to Y/N.

He ripped her restraints.

“I got you, doll. You’re OK. We’re all OK.” He whispered over and over again. He didn’t even bother to see if she could walk, just picked her up in his arms.

Bucky didn’t let anyone get near her. He didn’t even think of letting her out of his arms.

He let Steve explain to the team what had happened.

Bucky didn’t snap out of it until Nat said she was going to take Y/N to her room, that she’d help her clean up and shower.

Bucky couldn’t be there for that.

After he showered too, he found Steve sitting at the kitchen counter, completely lost in his own thoughts.

Bucky leaned against the sink and crossed his arms. “We were together,” he muttered. “Y/N and I were together…and I did something to fuck it up.”

Steve just nodded.

What was the point of feigning ignorance now?

“You were best friends. And I got in the middle of you two because I hurt her.”

Steve nodded again.

Bucky rubbed his face. “What did I do, Steve?”

“You just…You need to talk to her, Bucky.”

—————————

Y/N hadn’t left her bed in 36 hours. 

The blinds were down, so she didn’t even know if it was night or day outside. She was in her oversized black sweatshirt with the hood up, ignoring the fact that it was Bucky’s – whether he remembered that or not.

There was a knock on the door.

She assumed it was Nat or Sam bringing her something to eat or drink.

Y/N had made it clear that she wanted to be alone. Even stubborn and insistent Tony finally listened and gave her the space.

Y/N slowly made her way to the door, imagining she probably looks like a zombie.

But it wasn’t Sam or Nat on the other side of the door.

Bucky was patiently waiting.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered.

“I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“Can I…I just need…” Bucky stuttered through what he was trying to ask. “Fuck it,” he finally muttered before pulling Y/N into his arms.

He expected her to yell at him or shove him away.

But Y/N just let him pull her into his arms. She even gripped him tightly.

When he pulled away, Y/N was crying.

Embarrassed, she stepped away and quickly tried to wipe away the tears.

“Come here, doll.” Bucky whispered and pulled her back into his arms.

Once again, she didn’t fight him.

30 minutes later, they were sitting on the couch of Y/N’s room. There was food half touched on the coffee table and Y/N was holding a glass of vodka on the rocks, compliments of Natasha. She’d stopped by with food and alcohol for her, surprised to find Bucky in her room.

Nat had given Y/N a silent look that asked, “Want me to get rid of him?”

But Y/N had merely shook her head.

Bucky didn’t ask any questions. The silence in the room didn’t make him uncomfortable. He just waited, let Y/N make the first move.

“You used to love me,” Y/N mumbled.

Bucky immediately wanted to correct her, but he knew this wasn’t his time to talk.

“We were together for…for over 3 years. In the beginning, we tried to keep it a secret.” She laughed darkly. “Between Nat and Clint, you can imagine how long that lasted.”

She took a sip of vodka.

“There was a new threat from Hydra. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just them showing up on the maps again. You had a confrontation with them, but you never told me what happened.” She swallowed. “It…panicked you.” Her eyes glazed over as the memory washed over her. “You started getting bad nightmares again. Your PTSD got worse. There was a night where you – I shouldn’t have woken you up the way I did.”

But she didn’t go into more detail.

Bucky could figure out what happened.

“You wouldn’t even let yourself sleep after that. You were exhausted and irritable. You started putting distance between us. You wouldn’t sleep in the same room as me. You wouldn’t even talk me anymore.”

A single tear fell down Y/N’s cheek and she wiped it away as she sniffled. “Then you…uhh… you broke up with me. You said you didn’t love me anymore. Said you might never have. You claimed you didn’t think you were even capable of love after the mess Hydra had made of your mind.”

Y/N cleared her throat as if it would also clear away all the emotions that escaped.

“That was 2 months before you took that hit and lost your memories.”

“Y/N, I–”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” Y/N cut him off. But it wasn’t a command from her abilities. “Please, just…I can’t hear it.”

Bucky was torn.

“You don’t remember me. You don’t remember us. So whatever you’re about to say…it doesn’t matter.”

Bucky took in a deep breath. “Do you want me to leave?”

Y/N nodded.

——————————

“I broke up with her to keep her safe,” Bucky thought aloud to Steve.

He hunted down his best friend after Y/N told him everything. There was nothing to stop Steve from giving his side of the story now.

Steve nodded.

“I did love her. I lied so she wouldn’t fight for me. I broke her heart so she would hate me.”

“Yeah, Buck.”

Bucky put his face in his hands.

“It was some Hydra agent. He didn’t have anything on you. All he had to do was say Y/N’s name and you lost it. You were convinced they’d come after her because of you. No matter what any of us said, you wouldn’t listen.”

Steve stared into his eyes. “You really loved her, Buck. I’ve never seen someone make you so happy. You started smiling and laughing – it was constant.”

“I still love her,” Bucky replied instantly. “I can’t…I can’t remember. But I swear, Steve, I can still feel it. That first time I saw her, I just had this feeling that I’ve never remembered having before.”

“You saw her,” Steve told him. “When she was invisible to so many people, it was the opposite for you. Like she was the only woman you could see.” Steve smirked then. “She didn’t make it easy for you. At the beginning, she pushed you away more than she let you in.” Then Steve’s smirk disappeared. “That’s why you hurt her so badly. She’d been waiting for the floor to drop out from underneath her for so long…and then you were the one to push her down.”

“You broke her heart,” Steve declared quietly.

Bucky nodded, already having figured out that was exactly what happened.

“And you two?” He asked Steve.

“I tried to stop it. I tried to tell her what was going through your head, that you hadn’t meant what you said. But she wouldn’t listen. And I wouldn’t stop. So, she pushed me away. Stopped talking to me. Would leave a room any time I walked into it. I guess just seeing me reminded her of you.”

Not only did Bucky rip himself out of her life, he unintentionally ripped Steve away too.

“When I told her what happened to you, that you didn’t remember her…she said it was for the best. She thought things would be easier that way.”

“We all tried to push you two back towards each other. But Y/N wasn’t having any of it.”

Steve sighed. “She’s scared. I know that now. She doesn’t want to get her heart broken again. She just figures the exact same thing would happen all over again.”

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

Part 3

Honestly, first part had the lowest amount comments/reblogs of any story I’ve ever written. I’m assuming because I put that it was Tall!Reader. Writers can describe the reader as petite and short, and get away with it. But I guess people draw the line at the reader being tall. 🙄😑

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #marvel one shot #marvel fic #marvel reader insert #winter soldier reader insert #deja vu part 2 #deja vu part ii #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier x reader #steve rogers & reader #bucky one shot

[the-fandom-fuckup]

A bit more for that modern fantasy au I teased a bit ago

Character designs n stuff are slightly based off the official halloween n fantasy ending arts, plus whatever else I wanted to do, so Kiri is a dragon shifter here, Baku is a werewolf, n Ochako is a witch.

There'll probably be a hint of a/b/o dynamics here for weres n shifters, n the idea of alpha!Kiri n alpha!Baku has stuck to me like glue, so that's a thing here also

There's no real plot for this, just these three being dumb n pining, and everyone around them rolling their eyes n dealing with it lmao

I've thought about jobs n first meetings tho, n came up with this. Kiri's a firefighter (along with Tetsu, who is also a dragon shifter, bc I love him and their bro-bond), bc big fire resistent boy running into fires to help people just makes sense. Also I really like the thought of him in the uniform

Ochako works as a self defense instructor with Gunhead at a small gym in town, probably helping people with magic items n stuff on the side for extra cash or smth, I dunno. She might wanna move into a more magically dominant field one day, but she likes the environment of the gym n the regulars that come in n chat between classes. She's also very good at what she does n has put many assholes in their place after they've scoffed at "the cute little girl you have here".

Baku is a "park ranger", n I use quotations bc that's the only title he could really give himself to have any authority over the land he owns. He gives himself more leeway than what some laws may grant, tho tbh if you're coming into his territory with intent to harm those in it, you're lucky to walk away at all just sayin'

He runs an escape park of sorts for weres n shifters to run around during full moons and other times they need to shed their human skin, personally owned so he can avoid all the bullshit regulations n "safety procedures" found in bigger places that try offering the same thing, but ultimately make the shifting process shittier than it needs to be. And words gets around so it gets super popular super fast, n people of all ages come by

Tbh the thought of a teeny tiny wolf, like 10y/o at most running around Baku n trying to get him to play, nipping at his ankles n calling him the pack alpha is really what settled the debate on whether he should be an alpha or omega. And the added image of Baku rolling his eyes n putting on his toughass act but not really minding it as he gets them moving with a tap on the ass, muttering "Fuckin told ya squirt, I'm not your pack alpha. Now find someone else's ankles to bite at, I'm busy", makes me feel really nice

For some first meetings, tbh Kiribaku probably happens first, n they meet when Kiri n Tetsu accidentally trespass on Baku's territory bc they're new to the area n found a big ass lake to soak in during a flight over town, like dude!! Fuck yea that could fit both of us easy, man I haven't soaked in my big form in forever lets go!

And ofc if the giant shadows overhead hadn't tipped him off the security sensors would've so Baku's like who in the FUCK!! N storms off to confront them bc you don't just come on his land like that. That's how people get fucking hurt you dumb assholes 😤😤

N Kiri n Tetsu are mostly just minding their own business, settling down into the lake like aw yea that's the shit, almost passing out bc they'd just had a long day n the water was so cool n the fish eatting the dead skin n shit off their scales was so relaxing. They don't even realise they'd drifted into a light doze when they hear furious snarling n harsh sniffing coming their way, n barely have enough time to get up before Baku comes tearing shit through the trees

And like. Kiri n Tetsu know that they're big boys. Their full sized dragon forms are huge n there's not much out there that scares them, but nobody likes coming face to face with a snarling werewolf, standing in their territory without any warning that you maybe shouldn't be there

Despite the hostile intro, it doesn't take much for the misunderatanding to be cleared up. There's a lot of apologies from Kiri n Tetsu n a lot of irritated snorts from Baku, but they get straightened out. Baku tells them what kinda show he's running n Kiri inatantly get sparkly eyes like dude!! You do that all by yourself?! That's so manly bro you gotta let us help with that

Baku snorts like you don't have to make empty offers if you wanna use the grounds, I don't refuse people unless they pose an actual threat to the others. You guys aren't dangerous, just stupid. N Kiri goes hey rude, but also it's gotta be a lot dealing with all that on your own. We can at least watch out from above, keep an eye on shit or whatever bc face it man, you may be great but even you can't be in multiple places at once.

And the only reason Baku ends up agreeing is bc they pester him about it until he's well past irritated, n he's figured out the only way to shut them up was concede. They can't be there fulltime anyway consudering their professions, but they're sure to help when they can

Kirichako meet at the gym. Kiri's buying a membership or smth bc you gotta keep the stength up bro! Can't be slacking when you're the difference between someone living n someong dying y'know? Ochako's either in a class or dealing with some hothead, her furrowed brows n puffed cheeks distracting Kiri n reminding him of a chipmunk before bud says smth he can't hear but has Ochako seeing red. It doesn't take long for him to end up on his ass n Kiri's just stuck watching, jaw dropped n heart eyes as Ochako tells the guy he can either fix his attitude or find somewhere else to go

Kiri turns to Tetsu like dude holy shit did you see that?? N Tetsu's like yea bro everyone saw it, n Ochako comes up to them like sorry about that. We have a no harassment policy here that some people overstep, n it sucks that we get people coming in that need it enforced but unfortunately it's pretty common.

Then, bc she's still a bit sour, she looks them both dead in the eyes with a fire raging behind hers like if that's not smth you think you can handle then you might as well save us all the hassle n leave now. N they're both like no way that was great, totally understandable, just tell us where to sign

And while she came off as kinda aggressive during their initial meet, Kiri's quick to find she has just as much sweetness to match her bite. He watches her between sets sometimes n sees how kind n gentle she can be with the younger classes that come in, how she doesn't single out people who struggle n instead moves to help n provide tips without making a huge deal of it

She's also one of the first people to come running when someone gets hurt, he finds out. He'd admittedly been more focused on her sparring with Gunhead than he'd been on the super heavy equipment he was using for his reps, n managed to look over at the perfect time to get flustered n drop it directly on his foot. The resounding crack was loud enough to catch quite a bit of attention, tho he knows the equipment is more likely to be damaged than his foot

Ochako doesn't even hesitate to run over n levitate him to take the pressure off of his not broken foot, going "oh my god are you okay?? Someone clear that bench please, he needs to get off his feet now!" N Kiri does appreciate the concern, as embarassing as it may be, n tries to tell her it's really not a big deal, thanks for the help but honestly--

N she rounds on him like say that one more time n you'll be dealing with a broken nose instead, now sit your ass down n let me handle this!! Kiri can't even reply with anything other than a quiet okay😳😳 bc he's always thought her determination was super admirable, but being this close n seeing it burn in her eyes so intensely is taking it to a whole new level n he has no clue how to handle it

Kacchako meeting is kind of a hybrid mix of the other two combined lmao. Baku owns a pack house where he lives with Deku, then later with Kiri, Tetsu, Mina, Kami, n Sero, but he's so busy with the park that he's hardly ever home. N since Ochako's kinda embarassed about her tiny ass appartment, they usually hang out at the pack house to talk over magic studies or gossip over whatever's happened recently. At this point Baku n Ochako have heard of each other but never been around at the same time

Which causes a problem one day while Ochako's in the kitchen making tea when Baku comes home. He'd had a stressful day warding off poachers or smth, n his rut's just a few days away now, so when he opens the door n is greeted with a slightly unfamiliar scent it sends him into a daze, where he stalks to the kitchen before he even knows that he's moving

Ochako knows tho, can hear the low growls and deliberately quiet steps creeping behind her, setting her on edge bc ohhhh my god, someone just broke into Deku's place holy shit!! And when it gets close enough to barely feel hot breath on the back of her neck she's flinging herself into action, all muscle memory as she gets a few quick jabs into Baku's gut. It knocks the question outta his lungs, getting out a choked "who the--" before her magic kicks in and she's picking him up n slamming him down with his weight returned for maximum momentum, body slamming the following "fUCK!!" out as well before she placed her weight on him to keep him down. She gets right in his face demanding "who are you?! How did you get in here?!"

And when he can breathe again Baku snaps back like "who tf am I?!? I live here!! Who tf are you?!?!" And like, she's still in fight mode so she's looking him over like hmm, so this is Bakugou. Then she realises wtf she's doing n goes oh my god it's Bakugou!! N she's jumping off him and apologising so fast that she's barely saying words, trying to take his hands n help him back up but getting swatted away bc you've done enough touching don't you think??

And yea, Baku's kinda pissed. Being attacked in your own house does that to anyone, let alone a pre-rut alpha. But also, he's kinda impressed, bc he can count on one hand the amount of people who've gotten the drop on him like that, but he'd rather die than admit it out loud. So he just huffs at her with a final "try that shit again n I'll kill you", n stalks off to his room, having more important things to worry about right then than who's fucking around in his kitchen

((His rut decides to be completely unhelpful that time around, his alpha brain locking in on the faint perfume she'd left on his shirt while tossing him around and how perfectly it mixed with his own scent, as well as the shirt he nabbed from Kiri's laundry basket the night before. He rubs the scents of these strong potential mates all over his den, knots his rut aid with his face plastered to the shirts then uses it to scent the shirts even more, drunk off of how well their scents all mix together. He's rightfully embarassed during the end when he can start thinking properly again n throws both shirts to the back of his closet to be forgotten about--as much as his alpha fights him on it--n moves on to his business like normal.

Tho if he tries to be home more often when he knows Ochako's coming around, n spends more time in Kiri's space, nobody's mean enough to comment on it. At least, not at first.))

Man I have many feelings about this, but I'll leave it here for now bc I could go on forever

#BnHA #Kirikacchako #Bakugou Katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #Uraraka Ochako #Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu #modern fantasy au #I have a lot of feelings about this like wow #this is barely scratching the surface n it's so fucking long #a/b/o dynamics #at least a little bit

[secret-engima]

Drabble for Time Travel Twins verse

(because I have no impulse control and SOMEONE *eyes @rayearthdudette* reminded me about Titus and then my muses ran away with me. Enjoy!)

...

-They are 12 when Titus first comes to the Citadel. Romulus is more than ready to stab him, because he remembers Libertus telling him what happened, that the man became a traitor, and any threats to Regis are threats that need to be removed, but Remus is … conflicted. One on hand, yes, Titus is a danger. But when? Surely the man hadn’t always been a traitor. Captain had taught him … so much. Taken care of them before going cold and hard in those final days. Remus is … biased he supposes. Reluctant to arrange an “accident” for the man who meant so much to him at one point, especially when he shows no signs of treason right now.

-So they watch, aloof and quiet (which is not unexpected for them considering their … backstory, so no one really notices), trying to find evidence of treason or loyalty and are both disturbed when they realize that Titus Drautos is … he is loyal. He is angry and hurting, having just lost his home of Cavaugh outside Insomnia and it’s Wall, but he is not angry at Lucis. He is not bitter toward the king, but instead seems to respect Regis in a polite, impersonal sort of way. He treats both twins with respect and manners, not questioning their paranoid looks, the way Romulus keeps picking a fight, or how Remus has nicknamed him Captain with a feral sort of smile even though the man is a Crownsguard rookie with no real rank.

-Sometimes he even steps into situations unprompted on their behalf, and while Romulus is convinced it’s a ploy to gain trust, Remus sees the crease in the man’s forehead when he interjects himself in a situation (a dispute with the other guards, a reckless prank he can see about to go dangerously south rather than just hilariously sideways) and his gut whispers that Titus is sincere. But then, he trusted Captain before and look where that got him.

-They are 16 when Titus Drautos disappears on a mission outside Insomnia. If they hadn’t been keeping a constant eye on him (hadn’t been making up excuses to be around him so as to search for treasonous behavior, hadn’t been getting attached despite the memories screaming that it was a bad idea) then they would never have noticed. Titus was one man amid the entire Crownsguard, and as good at his job as he was, as personal his reason for joining the Guard (saved by Regis when their “father” personally led rescue efforts to Cavaugh in the wake of the destruction), one man is so very easy to miss. Titus was new, he didn’t have that many friends in the guard, and most of them were on other missions and duties themselves. So when Titus was assigned to a milk run outside the Wall with three others and two of them came back with a report of a daemonic ambush, everyone else just shrugged with regret and moved on. Hardly the first time they’d lost a rookie to the Night.

-Except.

-Except Romulus and Remus know that Titus couldn’t be dead. They had not altered the timeline in a way that would have made the man die, surely. If anything, Romulus’s constant sparring challenges would have made the man more capable and besides all that, somewhere deep inside Remus still clings to the image of his Captain before the betrayal. The strong, steady, unbreakable presence that kept so many of them from throwing themselves into fights they couldn’t win because they didn’t want to come back to empty houses and shattered Clans.

-Except Romulus and Remus know that at some point Titus Drautos becomes Glauca, the wielder of an experimental regenerating armor, and Romulus has personal experience with Niflheim and their predilection towards immoral science.

-They are smart enough to leave a note at least. One telling Regis that they’re going looking for Drautos and will be back in a few weeks. Hopefully. Then they run, putting as much distance as they can between themselves and Insomnia before Cor can catch up to them and drag them home.

-It takes them longer than expected. Romulus remembered a lot of things and a lot of missions, but Niflheim holds a lot of territory and they can only hit so many bases before they risk capture and discovery from either side.

-But they do have some ways to narrow it down, and the twins lost their qualms against “aggressive negotiations” to gain information a very long time ago.

….

-Titus doesn’t know how long he’s been there. Only that it’s been too long. Far too long.

-Long enough to know that no one is coming. He is alone. Forgotten. Abandoned.

-Just like his home when Mors pulled back the Wall, not even sparing a thought for the region of small towns and simple villages right on his doorstep that were no match for Niflheim’s military.

-Long enough that he’s stopped trying to fight it when they come into his cell and unshackle him from the wall to drag him off to the lab for another session. Another agony filled day of them pumping black sludge and liquid metal into his veins and watching him writhe on the table as it forces itself into shape around his skin and then slides back underneath when the scientists press certain buttons.

-He hates them. He  h a t e s  them.

-He’s starting to hate the Lucis Caelums more. For leaving him. Just like they left his family to burn, just like they left all of Lucis to burn.

-(And in the back of his mind he knows that’s not fair, that he should hate the people doing this to him not those who live safe and far away, but he is helpless against these scientists who keep him drugged and shackled, and it is so much easier to hate the things that he doesn’t have to be terrified of, so much easier to keep himself alive when his hate has a target he can imagine lashing out at rather than the ones who have long since gotten wise to his escape attempts and tricks and pin him down body and soul).

-Titus has been here too long and as he is dragged to the table and strapped down for the (tenth-hundreth-thousandth) time he knows that no one is coming.

-He doesn’t realize that the shaking of the world is not just another side effect of his mind struggling to cope with whatever the sludge and metal does to him until the scientists stop in the middle of their work and start looking around.

-One of them looks toward the door and orders an MT to go check what was going on. The unit leaves and the pain resumes.

-Until the intermittent shivering of the world turns into one long, prolonged shake. Like reality is a wet dog and the entire lab is a stubborn drop of water that won’t quite leave the fur coat. Somewhere to his right, the head scientist, a weedy man with black hair and a propensity to laugh in childish delight when Titus gets violent, yells something that sounds like “earthquake? Here? Impossible!”

-Titus loses time easily on the table, and he isn’t terribly surprised when he blinks his eyes open without memory of closing them and instinctively looks around to try to reorient himself in regards to time (to whether the session is almost over or if he still has a long way of torment to go)

-Why is his face wet.

-Why does the wetness taste like copper.

-Is he bleeding again? Did the liquid metal come out of his skin too fast and open large gashes again?

-A blink of lost time, a sluggish glance to the right.

-Had … had the weedy scientist man been pinned to the wall by a sword through his chest for long?

-Why were all the scientists screaming? He was the only one who did screaming during the sessions.

-Another blink and the screaming was quiet but the alarms were like nails in his ears, so loud he almost couldn’t hear the words being said to him by the person yanking the restrains off his arms, “-kay, Captain, we’re gonna get you out of here. Just hang on. You hear me, Captain?”

-…Captain?

-Only one person called him Captain.

-He lifted a hand toward the … person? Hallucination? and brushed his knuckles against a slender cheek, metal skittering in and out of his hand, reaching for the person-vision-thing with something like curiosity, “Re … mus?”

-Blue eyes, darker than their usual ice, as dark as the ocean or the King’s magic, filmed with tears. The hand that took his was scarred in familiar patterns, burns that were done by fire but branched jaggedly like lightning, “I’m here, Captain. I’m getting you out.” A glance to Titus’s other side and a tightening of the jaw, “We’re getting you out. Just hang on, okay?”

-Titus had to be dreaming. Or dying. Finally. The royal princes were very openly not fond of him, for all they had chosen to make him their preferred pestering target and training chew toy for the last 4 years. They were only 16 and this was a Niflheim military laboratory. No one was coming for him, especially not the princes.

-Titus did his best to hang on to Remus’s shoulder anyway as the much smaller teen have carried, half dragged him down torn up, smoking hallways. Ahead of him, silver gleamed, not like the liquid metal the scientists kept pumping in his veins (that he was probably dying of right now) but brighter. Purer.

-Romulus’s armiger had always been a thing of deadly beauty, especially when Titus wasn’t on the receiving end of it. It carved through the MT Units that tried to stop them with barely a thought, the dozens of swords the boy had obsessively collected swapping from the air to his hands and back in the space of blinks, defending or destroying by turns.

-Not a single Unit or bullet got anywhere near Titus and Remus.

-Something coiled around him, warm and painful, but a … good kind of painful. Not like the scientists and their tools. More like the burn of a hot shower against sore muscles.

-Not a bad thing to feel while he dreamed up a rescue scenario as he died.

-A blink that lasted too long, because when he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back, being dragged through the grass on some kind of makeshift shield sled. The sky was above him, so open and vibrant he hadn’t realized he’d started to forget what colors other than black, silver, and white were until just then. He didn’t dare blink away the tears that started, because he didn’t want to miss this. This dream of rescue and freedom in his final moments.

-It was evening. If he craned his head, he could see smoke rising in the distance. The base that had held him nothing more than an empty shell.

-The vision of Remus was still talking from where he and Romulus were dragging Titus’s shield sled, “-a little longer. We’ll patch you up once we get to the Haven, okay? Just a little longer.”

-He blinked. Opened his eyes to pain.

-Pain-pain-pain-painpainPAINMAKEITSTOPPLEASE-

-“What’s wrong with him?”

-“I don’t know! He might- he might be going through withdrawals from whatever drugs the Nifs used?”

-“It’s been hours past that point and it started up just now, withdrawals have more warning than that-!” swearing, loud and by his ear as he writhed in burning white agony, “Is he seizing? Hold him down till I get an elixir!”

-“-not working I don’t know what’s wrong-”

-“-ven! It’s the Haven!”

-“What?”

-“Captain never went on Havens! No one knew why, and he always had a good excuse so no one really questioned it but-.”

-“Daemon blood, it’s got to be, they probably used it as a conduit for the armor. The Haven was trying to purify him-.”

-“He’s off the Haven now, why hasn’t it stopped?”

-“We interrupted the process, the suit isn’t complete and we probably just screwed up whatever counted for stable with it-.”

-PainpainpainpainpleasejustmakeitstopjustenditenditENDIT

-“-dare die, Captain! Don’t you dare die on me!”

-Please.

-Just.

-E n d   i t.

-Hand on his chest and on his neck it hurthurthurt-, “You don’t get to leave me behind!”

-Light.

-White hot light, brighter than the sun, brighter and more agonizing than anything in life before or after.

-Kids in front of him. Kids who thought they were adults, thought they were ready for war, thought they were ready for magic to reach inside and change them forever.

-His boys. His girls. His idiots.

-His Glaives.

-Blood and bandages, blades and crisp black uniforms edged in silver. “Appropriate,” laughed the shadow of the jungle and the storm on his heels and where did he know that voice from? Where did he know that shadow?

-Endless battlefields and unchanging training rooms, the flicker of braids in the corner of his eyes, meanings kept secret, meanings absorbed through exposure until the sight of pink made him cringe and the glimpse brown beads made his heart hurt in sympathy. A hundred faces come and gone, a dozen more that stayed-stayed-stayed. Brown eyes green eyes burning burning blue. Lips in a hundred different faces with a hundred different names, all of them looking at him and calling him the same thing in fondness-anger-respect-heartbreak-affection-trust.

-“Captain.”

-“Hey, Captain.”

-“Yo, Cap!”

-“For Hearth and Home, right Captain? As long as there is breath in my body, I follow that order.”

-A name on the tip of his tongue, a knowing that was fond and angry and regretful all at once. The glimpse of beads.

-Lightning branching scars made of purple fire.

-The pain stopped.

-Titus opened his eyes.

-And looked into burning burning blue, set in a face that was partially cracked open in branching lightning scars that bled purple fire, “Hey … Captain.”

-There was a name on Titus’s lips, and it wasn’t “Remus”, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what that name was. At least not before the world went dark and he passed out from the relief of no longer being in pain.

-He woke up to the crackling of a campfire and a sprawling night sky over his head. For a moment he lay there in utter disbelief, not daring to move just in case he woke up back in the lab. Something shifted off to his right and a moment later a small, calloused hand rests on his forehead, “Awake for real this time, Drautos?”

-Titus stares, “…Prince Romulus?” The words cracked in his throat and when his coughing fit died down, the prince who shouldn’t be there handed him a canteen of water. Titus inhaled carefully several times after drinking, then looked up again. The prince was still there, “…How?”

-Prince Romulus sat back on his heels with a carefully blank expression, “You’re a hard man to find, Drautos. And a hard one to keep alive.”

-“I … what?”

-The Prince looked over his shoulder and Titus jerked internally when he spotted Prince Remus curled up asleep on a bedroll, exhaustion in every line of his teenage body, his branching scars far more vivid than usual.

-Purple fire spilling free of skin and blue, blue eyes and memories he can’t see-hear-touch-.

-“You … you came for me.” Titus whispered, unable to believe it, but also unable to disbelieve it. Why?

-Romulus grunted and evaded the implicit question in Titus’s words, “It took us longer than we thought to find you. Didn’t realize the Nifs had so many labs, let alone in Lucis. Then we got you out to a Haven and whatever they pumped in you decided to send you into some kind of violent fit.”

-Titus could remember that, dimly, and it made him feel sick just thinking of the black sludge and the liquid metal squirming under his skin-.

-Except he couldn’t feel it anymore.

-He pressed his hands over his arms, trying to find the feeling of foreign, painful metal inside him and instead felt … something else. Light. Twin suns of light hiding in his core, one that nipped and grumbled at his senses like a winter-chilled river that looked calm on the surface but raged quick and fast underneath, and another that crackled and sparked eagerly down his bones like lightning and the pounding of rain. Magic. Twin cores of magic, humming under his skin in place of the horrible, burning liquid metal the Nifs had constantly forced into his veins.

-…The princes’ magic?

-Romulus saw his look and turned his face away, “Remus burned the Starscourge and that … metal … out of your body with his magic but something needed to replace it. It had … carved you up inside and leaving those channels empty … would have been fatal.” Romulus glared at the night beyond the Haven, “I’m not explaining that well. But that’s what happened. Then he passed out.”

-Titus couldn’t untangle his emotions properly, they were too jumbled and strong do to more than rasp, “And … you?” Because there were two distinct magics inside him now, he could feel them.

-Romulus shook his head, stood up and prowled a few steps away to the campfire before sitting down again and admitting gruffly, “Remus wasn’t enough. After you were purified, you went into shock. I’d brought along ten phoenix downs just in case something happened…” The prince inhaled slowly, whispered more to the flames than Titus, “I ran out. You were still fading. So I dragged you back.”

-“Why?” Titus’s hands were shaking and he couldn’t get them to stop, couldn’t think about what the prince’s words made him feel because if he did he would break before he could get an answer and he needed to know. Needed to know why the two princes that had never acted particularly fond of him would race into the wilds, would risk their lives to free him, and then would … give him their magic.

-It wasn’t Romulus who answered, but a sluggish Remus, who slurred from his bedroll, “Cause you’re our Captain.” Remus blinked sleepily, yawned and finished, “Hearth and Home. ’S what matters most. Hearth is where you stay, Home’s the people in it. That’s you.” Blue eyes fluttered shut again before Titus could think of a response, but when he looked over at Romulus, the eldest prince was watching him solemnly.

-The prince tilted his chin in agreement with his twin, then added very softly, “We were afraid of you because you’re from Cavaugh. Our father already has to deal with enough bitterness and backlash over Mors’ reign, we didn’t know how you would react, being so close to the royal family that failed your town. But then you disappeared and … a prince takes care of his people. We can’t save everyone, we don’t have that kind of power. No one does. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.” Then he shook his head, shifting to sit with his back to the fire and his sword on his shoulder, a soldier keeping watch even though there was no need on a Haven, “Go to sleep. You’ve been through a lot. We’ll call for pickup to Insomnia in the morning.”

-Titus lay back down very slowly, head spinning and limbs shaking, his entire world upended and shaky. Except for one thing. One realization, one burning vow, curling tight in his chest.

-These princes were his. They had come for him. When he’d lost all hope that anyone could come, they had. They had come and carried him to freedom, burned out the poison in his veins and given him each a piece of themselves to keep him alive when they had no obligation to do any such thing. No matter what he thought of Mors, or their father, for that …

-For that he would stand beside the throne without hesitation or doubt.

-He woke up the next afternoon to find that Remus had somehow migrated from his bedroll to Titus’s and was sleeping curled up under one arm, his magic tangling around Titus’s soul and keeping the nightmares at bay while Romulus, who had drifted over sometime in the night, dozed fitfully within arm’s reach away. When Titus stirred, Remus clung tighter to the tattered Crownsguard coat they had dressed him in at some point. Remus called him “Captain” the same way King Regis beckoned his Shield, (the same way a child called out to a trusted adult, and what had he ever done to earn that trust from two boys who were known to have been abused so badly by adults before), and Titus relaxed obediently into the teen’s hold.

-And he knew.

-He was theirs. Whatever they needed of him, whatever they wanted him to be to them, that’s what he would be. For them he would burn down the world if they only asked, and in their defense he would give anything.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Time Travel Twins verse #titus drautos #HERE BE ANGST #long post

[spicyfloaty]

Give & Take | Chapter 9

pairing: kacchako

genre: slowburn/fluff

words: 4.5k

summary: Ochako's grades are slipping. Bakugo is dangerously nearing suspension, or worse, expulsion. A certain twist of fate pairs them together for tutoring sessions. He teaches her math. She keeps him from getting suspended. A simple exchange, but what if this only brings them closer than necessary?

header credits: @alexbenedetto

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine: Mornings with Bakugo

Ochako was a morning person, the kind who purposefully wakes up before the sun does just so they could witness the day start. She had always loved early mornings back at home since it gave her the chance to cook her parents breakfast and see them off to work soon after. Getting a head start to a new day was a principle and routine she had stood by before her father got hurt on the job. 

Ever since her father’s injury, Ochako somehow morphed into the night owl she never thought she’d become. Despite this, the only reason you would catch her up late at night was either because she just got off of work or because she was finishing up some homework, both being tasks she was not too happy to do. She rarely got the chance to enjoy being a morning person, since late nights would require late mornings, which were much different from the early mornings she used to love.

Today was a blessing. Ochako had spent her entire Sunday holed up in her room to study for all her subjects, finishing all of her homework early on before it gets the opportunity to steal away precious hours of sleep later at night. Those precious hours, she made sure to spend them wisely by actually sleeping early that time.

Ochako takes another crunchy bite of toast, looking over to watch the first rays of sunshine spill from the rows of tall, glass windows. A soft, honey, morning glow bathe the dorm’s kitchens, tables, and common area. She takes a deep breath, basking in the comforting silence of the empty dining hall. She closes her eyes and groggily smiles into another sleepy bite of her toast, It’ll be awhile before I get a time like this again.

“Hey.” A familiar voice huffs.

Ochako drops her toast and almost jumps off her seat, a surprised squeak escapes her as she whips her head to see Bakugo standing beside her. He had both hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants, red eyes peering down at her waiting for a response. 

“God,” Her whole body sags in relief as she brings a hand up to her chest, “You almost gave me a heart attack.” She breathes out.

His eyes narrow, the rest of his expression unchanging, “What’s the derivative of cosine?”

Ochako tilts her head as her eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Good morning to you, too?”

“You’re still not answering the question.” He says impatiently.

The cogs in her mind have yet to completely wake up in order to fully function and comprehend what’s going on. Bakugo doesn’t usually wake up until much later so why the sudden change in schedule? Ochako rubs her tired eyes to double check if she’s seeing things right, but alas, Bakugo was still standing in front of her, proving that she was in fact not hallucinating.

“Wait, what is this again, exactly?” She asks.

His lips curl in disdain, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m obviously quizzing you.”

“At six in the morning?” She hears the morning rasp in her voice. How, where, and when did he get the idea of doing this on the earliest crack of dawn and on top of that, how is he managing to not sound or look like someone who just woke up?

“So?” Bakugo prods, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m barely awake, Bakugo.” She says hoarsely, her words slow and steady much like how a person still coming out of sleep would sound like.

Two seconds hardly pass after the last syllable of her sentence when Bakugo swiftly leans towards her until their faces are mere centimeters away from each other.

“Hey!” Ochako yelps, hastily leaning back before their noses could touch.

“You look pretty awake to me, round face.” He deadpans, the space between their faces still a finger’s width apart.

She places both hands on his chest to push him away, which unfortunately didn’t do much since she might as well be trying to move a statue, “Okay, jeez, I get it!” Her face turns to the side to hide the deep shade of red flooding her cheeks. “Personal space, Bakugo, have you heard of it?”

“Answering the goddamn question, have you heard of it?” He fires back, finally stepping away to give her some room to recover.

“Fine,” She drags her fingers through her unkempt hair, Ochako’s self-consciousness wasn’t awake enough for her to care how haggard she looked in front of him, “What was the question again?”

Bakugo folds both arms across his chest, “Derivative of cosine.”

Ochako looks away for a moment, squinting her eyes in concentration as the tiny Ochakos in her head scurry about in her head rummaging for an answer. Her eyes find their way back to his expectant ones once she has the right one, “Negative sine.”

Bakugo nods, walking away to head for the kitchens. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as she thanked her lucky stars that she somehow managed to give the correct answer without being a hundred percent sure of it.

She picks up the piece of toast on her plate, taking another bite while her eyes follow Bakugo’s movements as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing some items from the fridge and cupboards. His back was to her as he settled in front of the stove, grabbing a pan in preparation to cook a meal.

Ochako’s thoughts wander to more obvious questions such as why Bakugo was up this early in the morning when he usually wakes up around the same time Kirishima does, which was much later than now. Bakugo was the type to sleep early, so maybe he had coincidentally woke up and got hungry the same time as her today? Did she somehow mess up her alarm’s volume, accidentally setting it off on full blast, thereby waking Bakugo up since they’re on the same floor? No, that’s not it, she would have woken up the entire fourth floor if that were the case.

She drops the thought soon after, deciding that it was none of her business. Her eyes shifted to Bakugo once again as she took another crisp bite of her toast. From afar, Ochako notices the dampness of his hair, its usual explosive nature had it spiking through every direction, but now they were more down than up. He must have just gotten out of the shower before he got here.

Ochako’s gaze drop to the shape of his back, his muscles flexing as Bakugo reached for one of the spices on the top shelf. It was easy to look at since his tank top left the skin on his arms and most of his back bare. She wonders how much of his free time was spent training since it would certainly take a lot of time to sculpt and tone muscles like his.

Her eyes widened as she realized how inappropriate her thoughts were getting. She shakes her head free of those unnecessary thoughts, bringing her attention back to her breakfast and calls out to him, “So was that the last question or...?”

“No.” Bakugo says, setting his spatula aside, “I’m quizzing you the whole damn day, round face.”  

“The whole day?” She sputters in disbelief. Ochako had thought that this was just something he planned on doing this morning.

“What did I just say?” He bites. She doesn’t need to see his face to know that he was frowning, she could already hear the scowl in his voice.

“When?”

“When I say so.” He says with finality. Bakugo turns around, holding two plates of the meal he had just finished cooking. She had expected him to move past her to sit at one of the tables behind her, but instead, he places his meal beside hers and takes the seat on her left.

“Um, Bakugo?”

“What.” He asks through a mouthful of rice.

“Why are you sitting next to me?” Her question was out of genuine confusion and had no intention of sounding rude, but it seemed to come off that way nonetheless.

“The hell kind of question is that?” He bites, shooting her a nasty look, “You got a problem with me being here?”

“No!” She shakes her hands nervously, “It’s just that, um, you usually sit over there.” She says sheepishly, pointing to the tables behind them.

Bakugo’s eyebrows draw together, his lips twisting to a frown, “I can do whatever the hell I want and I--” He scoots his chair nearer to the table in protest, “feel like sitting here.”

“Why--”

“What’s the derivative of negative cosine?” He interrupts.

“Sine.” She instinctively answers.

“Good.” He says, returning to his meal. Ochako chooses to do the same since he had made it quite clear that he wasn’t answering any more questions from her. She thinks about how Bakugo could have done this whole quizzing thing of his during their sessions instead of breaking off of their regular tutoring schedule. Come to think of it, Bakugo and her don’t usually interact that much outside of their sessions, so him eating breakfast with her is definitely something new.

Ochako hears a strained yawn coming from the staircase and sees Kaminari stretching his arms in the air. He walks past the kitchens, eyes widening to the size of saucers when he spots the both of them. Kaminari’s face morphs to that of someone who had  just uncovered the holy grail, his mouth forming the beginning of a sentence only to be interrupted by Bakugo.

“Keep walking, Dunce Face.” He hisses, eyes not leaving his plate.

Kaminari turns to Ochako and she shrugs as if to say, “I don’t know what’s going on either.”

He walks towards the couches, wide, questioning, eyes still trained on both of them, “That’s all your gonna eat?” Bakugo asks, pointing his chopsticks to the piece of bread on her hands.

“Yeah?” Ochako’s breakfast had always consisted of the cheapest alternative, but it’s not like she was starving herself. She thinks back to days when she’d be eating costly food like tuna and salmon whenever she’d receive an especially good tip from patrons the day before. Ochako’s mouth waters at the memory.

A pair of chopsticks place a helping of fish on her plate, “Tch, You’re an idiot if you think that’s gonna last you through the day.” Bakugo sneers.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” She quickly tries to decline, that is very expensive looking fish.

His eyes stare daggers into her soul, “Do you really want to argue with me about fucking fish?” He snaps.

“No, but--”

“Then just take the damn thing already, Jesus.” Bakugo grumbles.

Ochako hears a faint squeal coming from behind them. She turns to see Mina with Kaminari peeking from the couches, both of them whipping their heads back to the television as soon as she catches them staring. When did Mina get here?

She directs her attention back to the meal before her, unwrapping the spare chopsticks on the table before starting to pick the fish apart.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Bakugo suddenly bites, his face scrunching up at the sight of her work.

“No, I’m not.” She protests. She was just preparing it just as she’s always done before and as far as she knew, there was nothing wrong with it.

“Yes you fucking are.” He argues, “You start here and work your way to the tail.” Bakugo's arm brushes over hers as he leaned towards her, pointing to the back of the fish’s head to its tail. He turns to her, “Got that?”

“Yeah” She mutters, ignoring the slight contact of skin. Ochako does as she’s told, working her way to the tail. She takes her first bite of fish and her eyes widen twice her size, “This tastes amazing.” She takes another bite before turning to him, “How did you do that?”

She knew he could cook, but she didn’t know he was this good at it. She scarfs down another couple bites of his cooking, her taste buds bursting with joy and delight.

“Why the hell do you look so surprised?” Bakugo’s face scrunches up in confusion, “It’s basic ass seasoning.”

Ochako can’t help but close her eyes and smile as she savors every single bite with gusto, “Weirdo.” Bakugo mutters with a bewildered expression on his face.

She starts to debone the rest of her fish under Bakugo’s guidance when she hears another strained squeal from behind them, this one being louder than the last. She turns to see that the couches  were now occupied by Kaminari, Mina, Kirishima, and Sero, watching them as if they were a newly opened attraction at the zoo. Kirishima slaps his hand to his mouth as four of them whip their heads back towards the TV.

She feels Bakugo bump her shoulder, “Focus.” He snaps impatiently, “You’ll end up choking on a fucking bone if you don’t do this properly.”

Both of them eventually finish their breakfast, with Ochako making a conscious effort not to get distracted by their peeking audience. Bakugo collects his empty plates, standing up from his seat, red eyes landing on hers.

“What’s the derivative of tangent.”

Ochako sighs, “Secant squared.” I almost forgot about that one.

---

“You two have gotten really close, Ochako, ribbit .” Asui observes, sitting beside Ochako’s desk, Hagakure in tow. She didn’t notice her approaching since she was preoccupied with a practice question on her textbook. Yes, I study during free periods in between classes, sue me.

“Who?” She asks.

“Bakugo.”

“Oh no, not really.” She replies dismissively, “We don’t really do much other than argue and study.” She chuckles nervously. She wasn’t lying, the only reason why they seemed so close was the fact that they were studying together, no more, no less.

“He literally ate breakfast with you!” Hagakure squeals, her uniform bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Come on, Hagakure that doesn’t mean anything.” She looks away, her hand scratching the back of her neck.

“It does when it’s Bakugo!” Hagakure insists.

“She’s right,” Asui agreed, “Bakugo usually sits alone during breakfast ribbit.”

Ochako shakes her head in response. It was just breakfast, there was no subliminal message between two people eating together, plus Bakugo probably just sat next to her so he could do his little quizzing plan with ease.

“You should see the way he looks at you all the time!” Hagakure adds, her skirt vigorously swishing from side to side.

“With annoyance and distaste?” Ochako quips. She couldn’t exactly recall a time when Bakugo had looked at her fondly or even longingly, so it's puzzling for her to be hearing such claims from her friend.

Before Ochako could add to her argument, she’s startled by a voice that booms from the back of her seat, “Oi.”

She whips her head to face the frowning blond behind her, “You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that, Bakugo.” She exhales.

He squints his eyes at her, ignoring her remark, “The limit of one over x.”

Ochako narrows her eyes right back at him. This was the eighth time, probably more, that he had come up to her unannounced to randomly quiz her. He wasn’t even asking questions at this point, it was just an unfinished statement waiting for her to fill in the missing blank, “X is approaching what?” She asks.

“Zero.” He continues to stare her down, as if to pressure her into spitting out the wrong answer.

She lifts her chin, immune to his intimidation tactics, “The limit doesn’t exist.”

Bakugo nods and wordlessly heads back to his seat. Ochako only then notices the dumbfounded looks on their classmates’ faces.

“Is this a new kind of flirting I haven’t heard about?” Kaminari asks, eyes shifting back and forth from her to Bakugo.

“I don’t know, looks pretty hot to me.” Mineta shrugs, leaning against Kaminari’s desk.

“You’d think a lamp post was hot if we put a skirt on it.” Kirishima retorts, giving Mineta a genuinely concerned look.

The purple-haired student crosses his arms in mock offense, “Oh shut up, I have taste.”

Boisterous laughter erupts from Mina and Jirou, both girls’ arms grabbing at their sides as Jirou almost falls from her seat, “He says he has taste!”

Thankfully, the spotlight shifts to Mineta, away from her and Bakugo, as he continues to defend himself. She glances at his direction to see that his eyes were already trained on her, an unreadable expression hanging on his face. Ochako quickly turns away to face her friends once more, sputtering a new topic for them to talk about. Despite this, Hagakure’s words still echoed from the back of her mind.

Ochako had definitely seen the way he looked at her.

---

The resounding ring of the lunch bell marks the end of fourth period. Ochako put away her books and started to make her way out of the classroom when Midnight suddenly calls her to the teacher’s desk.

“Yes, Ms. Midnight?”

“Uraraka-san, would you please be a dear and bring these papers to Aizawa,” she gestures to the stack of paperwork bundled in her arms, “I have to rush over to a meeting with Principal Nezu in five.”

“Of course!” Ochako takes the papers off her hands without hesitation, a bright smile stretching over her face, “I’ll bring it to him right away.”

“Thank you so much, dear.” Midnight purrs. Ochako gives her teacher another warm smile before heading outside, “Fabulous job on your essay by the way!” She calls out from the classroom.

Ochako looks back at the grinning brunette, “Don’t tell anyone, but I gave you an A plus!” She adds, bringing a manicured finger to her lips as she winked at her.

She chuckles at this, Midnight had said that quite loudly for someone who meant for it to be a secret, “Thanks, Ms. Midnight.”

Ochako rushes to the hallway to catch up to her friends. She nudges Iida with her shoulder since both of her hands were occupied as of the moment, “Uraraka! There you are!”

“You guys can go ahead without me,” she gestures to the bundle of paperwork she was carrying, “I’ll be at the teacher’s lounge for a bit.”

“Sure, we’ll be waiting.” Deku says, offering her a small smile.

She musters an awkward, tight-lipped smile before heading towards the other direction. Ochako had only gotten a few steps in before feeling a tap on her shoulder. She turns to see Bakugo, fierce, red eyes zeroing in on her once again.

Ochako was somewhat glad to know that he had learned to not sneak up on her anymore.

“Cosine of pi.” He says flatly.

Her lips curl into a smirk, “Negative one.”

“You guys are the weirdest couple ever.” Kaminari announces as the rest of Bakugo’s friends caught up with him and as if on cue, both him and Ochako objected.

“We’re not a couple.”

“Aw, they’re so in sync!” Kirishima gushes, “You sure you didn’t rehearse that beforehand?”

Bakugo sends a spine-tingling glare to the redhead’s direction, “Kidding, kidding.” He says, laughing nervously.

Ochako turns to Bakugo, “Got anything else you want to ask?” She urges. He might have another question ready to throw at her for all she knows.

“Yeah, what the hell is that? ” He barks, gesturing to the stack of papers in her arms.

“Let me rephrase,” She began, “Got anything else you want to ask nicely?”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “What’s that?” He asks through grit teeth. All three boys behind him bring their hands to their mouths to stop themselves from laughing, “Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo hisses at them.

“Some papers for Mr. Aizawa,” She smiles, satisfied with the change in his tone, “and speaking of, I gotta go.”

She turns to Bakugo, “If you have any more questions, you know where to find me.”

Ochako quickly waves them goodbye as she briskly walked towards the faculty room’s direction. It wasn’t a long way from where their classroom was located, but the journey felt like forever because of the weight on her arms. This was a heavy stack of papers.

She finally reaches her destination when she feels another tap on her shoulder. Ochako half expected to see Bakugo’s frowning face again, but she turned to see a tall, lanky boy with a seemingly crooked nose smiling at her, “Uraraka, right?” He asks.

Her eyes shift to the shorter, pudgier boy beside him, then back to the lankier one, trying to recall if she knew them, “Yes?”

“It really is you!” The shorter one beams at her.

Ochako smiles nervously, “Can I help you?” Her eyes were still shifting back and forth between the two boys, her mind trying to figure out why they looked so familiar. Had she seen them before at the sport’s festival? Or maybe walked past them in the cafeteria one time?

“This is Shintani,” The tall one gestured to his friend, “And I’m Kai.” He turns to her, still smiling, but something about the glint in his eyes tells her that he had something else up his sleeve.

“You’re in Class 2A, right?” Kai continues, “With Katsuki Bakugo.”

Bakugo? She thought to herself. Why bring him up all of a sudden?

“Yeah, I am.” She replies cautiously, the first signs of suspicion snaking its way to her gut. Ochako still couldn’t put her finger on where she had seen them before, but now with the  sudden mention of Bakugo, she had all the more reason to stay on alert.

“Must be tough being classmates with someone like that, huh?” Shintani says sympathetically, like he felt the need to console her as if she had been dealt the worst hand of cards in a game.

“What are you talking about?” She asks quizzically.

“Oh, come on,” Shintani sniggers as if she had told him an inside joke, “You know how that animal gets.”  

Kai nods in agreement, “A borderline savage, if you ask me.”

“But nobody asked you.” Ochako retorts, blinking back her shock afterwards. She hadn’t meant to say that, but a couple of strangers badmouthing Bakugo was getting on her nerves.

He turns to her, the kind smile on his face slips into a smug, lopsided grin, his facade instantly crumbling to partly show her what his true colors really were, “See this?” He asks, pointing to his nose, “That bastard did this to me.”

Ochako’s steps back, eyes widening in realization. The students from Class 2C. That’s why they looked so familiar. They were the ones she saw in that fight with Bakugo.

“I don’t even know why this school still lets him stay in the hero course.” Shintani adds.

Kai laughs before turning to her once again, “He only gives the rest of us a bad image, don’t you think so?”

Ochako’s grip on the stack of papers tighten as she takes a step towards them, “If both of you think that I’m going to join in some petty rant about Bakugo, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

She attempts to walk past them, but Kai steps aside to block her path, “You were matched up with him during last year’s sports festival, weren’t you, Ochako?”

“He was truly out of line treating you like some ragdoll he can throw around so easily.” Shintani adds.

Ochako’s face twists in annoyance, “First of all,” she begins, turning to Kai, “Do not call me by my first name.”

“Second,” She turns to Shintani, “He was fighting me seriously. That’s what you do in a competition.”

“And a piece of advice,” She steps closer to Kai, shoving a finger onto his chest. She didn’t know where she had gotten the strength to be able to carry the weight of Ms. Midnight’s paperwork with one hand, but it was there. “Don’t talk about someone like that when you don’t know the first thing about them.”

“And you do?” Kai challenges.

“I may not know Bakugo from head to toe, but I have enough decency in me to not walk up to random strangers to badmouth somebody I don’t know.” She bites back venomously before turning the other direction.

Before she could get any farther, Kai grabs her arm, his ironclad grip almost making her wince in pain, “Hey!” She protests.

“Come on, just hear us out--”

In a blink of an eye, Ochako is suddenly pulled away from his grasp. A tall, looming figure stood in between them, shielding her from both students.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Bakugo growls.

Ochako stares at him, wide-eyed. Bakugo’s back was to her, his shoulders rising and falling along the furious rhythm in each of his breaths.

Kai and Shintani fall back, fear and surprise flashing in both students’ eyes. Despite this, Kai nervously grins and takes a brave step forward, “Speak of the devil!”

“Shut the fuck up and piss off while you can still walk.” Bakugo snarls, his voice seething with malice.

Shintani follows in his friends footsteps and also steps towards Bakugo, “You’re all bark and no bite.”

“Walk away or I break your nose next .” He threatens. Ochako places her hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, her grip firm, “Bakugo, let’s just go.”

Bakugo doesn’t move, his body still rigid with rage, “You heard your girlfriend!” Shintani calls out.

“Unless you want to hit me again, I’ll show her what a real man looks like!” Kai taunts, making sure to look behind Bakugo to give Ochako a suggestive grin.

She feels him tense up even more under her palms as he begins to pace towards them. Ochako takes his hand and for the first time, Bakugo looks back at her, his expression livid, “They’re not worth it.” She warned, adding weight to every word she spoke.

Ochako holds his gaze as she gives his hand a gentle squeeze and for a moment, the anger in his eyes subside.

Kai takes another step forward, ready to hurl another insult at him when the door to the faculty’s office opens, “What seems to be the problem here?” Aizawa asks, hooded eyes flickering between Bakugo and the two students from 2C.

A bright smile works its way back to Kai’s face, “Nothing at all, Mr. Aizawa!” He beams, “We were just about to leave!”

Kai paced towards Bakugo, pausing so that he was directly beside him. “One of these days, when you least expect it, you’ll get what’s coming to you, Katsuki.” He says, barely above a whisper, but loud enough so that only Bakugo and her could hear it. Cold eyes still aimed forward, Kai walked away, Shintani in tow.

Aizawa turns to Ochako, his tired eyes dropping to Midnight’s paperwork, “Those must be from Midnight, bring them over here.” He instructs, walking back inside the office.

She feels Bakugo let go of her hand as he walked away, not even giving her the chance to talk to him. Ochako’s hand fold inwards as she stood there with a million questions swarming in her head.

“Uraraka.” Aizawa calls out from inside.

“Coming!”

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