#there were bits that just refused to go lighter than orange

[hollandsangel]

casual | m. sturniolo

i’ve been scheming for weeks !! (actually started this before move over AND voice. so.)

basically i’m obsessed with this song

summary: the most dangerous label is the casual one; or you both want more

warnings: matt x fem!reader, use of y/n, ANGST, cursing, happy ending bc i’m a sucker & a lost cause

wc: 6.5k

the sun is dipping behind the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange. you have your window rolled down, letting the salt air breeze pick your hair up as you rest against the car door. matt has elmer’s new song playing on aux, something lofi with a bit of spanish mixed in.

“like what you see?” he speaks up, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look over at you. he stares for a second, your skin illuminated by the fading rays of the sun, kissing the tops of your cheeks and giving you a warm glow.

you press yourself up to sit properly and catch his hand resting on the center console. you always loved that he drives with his left hand, the right always close enough for you to touch. 

“it’s pretty,” you say, poking your head back out of the window, looking overhead at the passing trees, “the palms are so tall.” matt squeezes your hand, and when you look back up he’s already looking at you, smiling when you meet his eyes.. his hair looks lighter in the setting sun, the side of his face lit up all golden and warm. you bite your lip and smile, turning away with a slight flush.

“it’s green,” you tell him and he flicks his head back forward, muttering a curse under his breath.

“my bad,” he admits, refusing to drop your hand. 

it looked like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, just takes a breath and lets it out before turning back to the road.

when the car pulls into the garage you reach to the back to grab your overnight bag. matt’s already out of the car, coming over to your side to open your door, “c’mon,” he says in that silly high pitched voice, just to hear you giggle.

you make your way to his bedroom, knowing the ins and outs of the triplet’s house like the back of your hand. matt follows behind you, his footsteps echoing amongst the hardwood floors. 

“i can’t wait to lay down,” you sigh, the effects of the sun's heat catching up with you now that you’re in the cool, air conditioned house.

“yeah, i’m feelin’ pretty tired too,” matt agrees, his voice heavy and suddenly cloaked by fatigue.

you’d been out all day, shopping on melrose, walking by the beach. dinner and ice cream and the beating sun soaked up all your energy. nothing sounded better than getting cozy in matt’s bed and watching a movie, maybe catching a bit of a nap before deciding to head home. you knew he’d insist on driving you, and that always hurt more than you’d like to admit.

the two of you weren’t dating, he wasn’t your boyfriend and you told yourself you didn’t mind. it wasn’t a very convincing lie though, most everyone around you could tell. it’s not that you hadn’t talked about it, you had, there were just things getting in the way.

matt was worried about how his fans would react, and he absolutely did not want it to be at your expense. you hated the thought of pushing him, like forcing him or asking too much, being too needy would only drive him away. all your friends had told you to stop, that you were only going to get yourself hurt, but you’d honestly rather have half of him and a broken heart than none of him at all. 

you never doubted that he cares about you, in fact you know he does. he always picks you up from classes, knows your order at all your favourite fast food places and keeps an extra toothbrush in the bathroom for you. it’s things like that that make the title of causal or just seeing each other sting a little bit more.

here though, all settled in matt’s bed, you try not to think about it too hard. there’s some liam neeson movie he insisted on showing you playing on the tv, and you’re happy to be watching it, but mostly happy to be watching it with him. his chest rises and falls under your head with each breath and it’s making you more tired than before.

“i’m so warm,” you say through a yawn, all comfy now in your sweats and matt’s crewneck, although the comfort comes mostly from his arms wrapped around your middle. 

“you can throw on a pair of boxers if you want, top drawer,” matt offers, his arms unmoving, keeping you mildly trapped against him.

“let me goooo,” you groan dramatically, making a big show of sliding out from under his arms and grinning to yourself when he laughs.

“come back,” he pouts, reaching for a stuffed animal to take your place while you cross the room to his dresser.

“just give me a sec,” you giggle, rummaging around in the drawer and pulling out a pair of plaid boxers. there’s something stuck to it, all tangled up in the mess of his clothes, “what the– is this my bra? i’ve been looking for this for like a month.” 

matt lifts his head just enough to see what you’re holding up, huffing when he hits the pillow again, “i dunno, sweetheart, you probably left it, you’ve got a lot of stuff here,” he sounds tired, and the words are pressed against his pillow now that he’s rolled onto his stomach. 

you’ve got lots of stuff here.

it digs into you, how casually he says it, an almost physical ache you feel beyond your ribs, right where your heart is. 

quickly you try to shake it off, shucking off your sweatpants and sliding the boxers up your legs so you can hurry back into bed before allowing yourself to think about what he said too much. 

“c’mere,” there’s a little smile on his face when he says it, arm outstretched for you to crawl under. immediately matt tucks you up against his body impossibly close, his nose stuffed into your hair and breathing you in. it feels nice, right, and you let yourself bask in it, like maybe the state of your relationship (or lack thereof) won’t be in limbo forever. he has to feel it too, the pull.

“i think you should just stay tonight,” he says quietly against your temple, leaving a little kiss there.

“are you sure?”

he nods, “it’s late, ‘m not gonna kick you out,” you can see his smile in the dark, his features lit up delicately by the dim light of the movie, “and i kinda wanna cuddle,” he admits sheepishly, trying to hide his blush when you turn to him.

“awe, matty,” you tease, scooching closer to him, hardly an inch away.

“hey,” he says all high pitched, making you laugh again.

“that voice always gets me,” you tell him, snuggling up under his chin.

“that’s why i do it,” he tells you.

it doesn’t take long for you to slip into an easy sleep with matt holding you, the mindless noise coming from the tv luring you deeper into unconsciousness. he’s being extra gentle, finger tips dragging along your waist under your top. you hardly feel him slide out of bed or tuck you in all snug under the covers.

nick’s in the kitchen when matt emerges from his bedroom for some water,  hunting for something in the pantry. matt rubs his eyes.

“hello?” chris leans forward on the couch, his voice startling matt.

“jesus, what– you’re just both out here at fucking two in the morning?” he grumbles, eyes squinted against the harsh lights.

“we ordered food,” chris stands up, walking into the kitchen.

nick nods, closing the cupboard, glass in hand, “we thought you were at y/n’s or something, i didn’t hear you come in,”

matt grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and a takes a sip before answering, “nah she’s here, she’s asleep,” he says, nodding towards his bedroom.

nick groans, “god, are you guys dating yet,” he asks, head rolling back against his shoulders, exsapertated.

matt’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst of noise, looking back at his door to make sure nick didn’t wake you, “dude, be quiet,” he urges.

you’d felt matt’s absence after a few minutes, the warmth of his body leaving the bed when he did. slowly you sit up, pressing the heel of your palm into your eye and swinging your feet to the floor quietly. you stand behind matt’s closed bedroom door, prepared to silently creep out and go to the bathroom when you catch his voice. 

“and no,we’re just casual,” he continues to answer nick’s question, who glances over and chris. “what— don’t look at him like that,” this earns him another sideye, “i mean it, it’s not serious.”

“matthew” nick starts, “isn’t she asleep in your bed right now?” nick points an accusatory finger in his brother’s direction, emphasizing his words.

it’s matt’s turn to look at chris, who holds his hands up in surrender, “don’t look at me, i’m with nick,” he says, looking away from his brother from where he remains on the couch.

“well she’s not my girlfriend, if that’s where this is going,” matt turns back to the fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to hide from his brother’s judgmental, but justified, stares. 

it hurts to hear, even if you know it’s the truth.

“and why not, idiot,” nick asks, getting fed up. he can clearly tell how his brother feels and is getting frustrated, mad even, with the idea of him toying with your feelings. 

“i just—i just can’t do it.” that hurts more, a sharp pain you feel in your chest. you swallow dryly, and that hurts too. 

you decide you don’t have to go to the bathroom that badly anymore, and slowly sink back into matt’s bed. you know you and matt aren’t together, that he’s not your boyfriend, but a part of you has always clung to the idea that one day he would be, that he’d finally make the move. you thought he liked you enough to at least try.

tugging the duvet up to your chin you roll over onto your side to face the wall. matt comes back into the bedroom and you can hear nick and chris talking quietly for a second before the door closes again. you’re not too sure, but you think one of them mumbles your name amidst the conversation. matt slides back under the covers with you, coming as close as he can to wrap his arms around you.

it makes your head spin, his words rattling around in your mind, saying he “can’t do it,” but here is, body tucked perfectly against yours, holding you so tight you’d think he never wanted to let go.

—

matt seems notice that you’re a bit quieter than usual the next morning, but you try to hide it under the excuse of not feeling well. he offers to drop you off and you take him up on it, knowing that marinating in the misery you feel won’t solve anything but seems to be the easiest thing to do at the moment.

“text me if you need anything, okay?” his tone is concerned and you can feel him looking at you even though you’re trying to avoid eye contact. you know you’d cave, catching a glimpse of the light blue with all that worry clouding it.

“yeah, i will,” you sigh, reaching into the back seat to grab your bag. 

matt catches you, palm placed delicately along your jaw so you’ll look at him, “hey,” he says all soft, “c’mere,” he guides you forward slightly and you know what’s coming, you know it’s gonna hurt but you do it anyway.

he kisses you gently and you fall into it with ease, reaching out to touch his arm. when he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone you pull away, licking your lips.

“i’ve gotta go,” you whisper, afraid the full volume of your voice would shatter something, you’re not too sure what.

“yeah, okay,” he nods, pulling his hand away from your face and trying to smile as you open your door, watching you walk into your building.

he stays there in the parked car for a minute, wondering what’s wrong, pretending he doesn’t know that this whole situation hurts you just as much as it hurts him. he’s staring up at your apartment window, tapping the steering wheel and taking a long, deep breath.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, pushing his hair back and putting the car in reverse.

—

you and matt don’t talk excessively for the next few days, only a few texts exchanged here and there and one phone call after he knew you’d just written a midterm. 

he called to ask how it went and tell you he was proud of you, and also to invite you out to dinner with his parents on the upcoming weekend. they were flying out to l.a. for a few days and he wanted you to meet them. it felt cruel.

“i dunno matt, i’ve got an assignment due sunday at midnight, i might not be able to make it,” of course you wanted to go, but the tug of self preservation was starting to become more equal to the pull you felt towards him. you were starting to lose sight of what was more important, him or yourself.

for so long it had been him.

“please, sweetheart, i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever,”  matt slumps into his desk chair, spinning back forth.

you cave and somehow your vision clears. it was him again.

“yeah, yeah, okay, i wanna see you too,”

matt smiles on the other end of the phone, “yay,” he says sweetly, making his joy obvious, “i can help you with your assignment if you want, too,” he offers, and you know he’s just trying to get a smile out of you.

you laugh without meaning to, “matt, you know nothing about the course,” 

“i’ll figure it out, anything i can do to make sure i see you,”

you bite your lip, trying to keep a smile at bay, “careful, you’re gonna make me think you like me or something,”

“aw, well i can’t have that now can i?” he teases, and it cuts deeper than he realizes it does.

“no,” you mutter, trying to hold onto the smile on your face even though matt can’t see you, “um, i should probably get going, if i wanna finish my assignment on time,”

“oh, yeah, okay. i could come by a little later with some food?” he poses it as a question, sensing your hesitancy.

“you don’t have to do that,”

“i know, but i want to,” he says it so easily, like there’s no reason in the world he wouldn’t come to your house after eleven pm just to sit on your bedroom floor while you do school work.

“canes?” you finally offer.

“be there in half an hour.” you hear the car keys jingle through the phone, the front door latching shut.

—

the triplet’s parents land on friday afternoon. you haven’t seen matt since wednesday night when he called and brought take out to your place, and you’re starting to feel a little nervous at the thought of seeing his parents.

you’ve spoken to them over facetime once or twice when matt had called them, but this is real, this is serious.

you think you’ve completely driven yourself insane with that, thinking of it as serious. for days there’s been a battle in your head about whether or not this means matt wants to make your relationship offical. it’s become such a problem that you’ve forbidden yourself from thinking about it.

taking a deep breath you refocus on yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair and trying to decide on a lip product for the night when your roomate wanders into your bedroom.

“how are you doing?” she asks, leaning against the door frame. you don’t answer, just look up at her with what must be a miserable expression, because she chuckles sadly at you, “that bad, huh?”

you groan and clench your fists, “i’m just confused!” you exclaim.

“i know, but i think tonight should clear some things up,” she tells you hopefully, and you really want to believe her.

“i hope so,” you sigh, “i just really like him,” you whine, defeated.

your phone dings then, a message from matt of course.

matt sturn

be there in twenty

ive got the kids

you laugh sadly at the text.

“‘s that him?” your roommate asks.

“yeah, him and his brothers are on the way, they’ll be here soon.”

“you’ll do great, don’t sweat it,” she tries to reassure you, giving you an over enthusiastic thumbs up before shutting your door again.

matt, nick and chris have been in the car for about five minutes and already matt’s debating driving into oncoming traffic. him and his brothers have had the same fight at least three times since you stayed over last week, and if he’s honest, he’s getting really sick of it.

“enough of this ‘i can’t do that’ bullshit, matt, she’s coming to dinner with our parents,” nick says pointedly, running out of air at the end of his setence, “you don’t just bring your hook up to that shit, so fucking stop talking to her if it’s that much of an issue,” he continues, leaning froward against matt’s seat, staring holes into the side of his brothers face.

matt is clearly aggravated, gripping the wheel a little too hard, “shut the fuck up, nick— she’s not just a hook up,” 

nick’s eyes get wider at this and he leans over matt’s seat, voice exponentially louder when he says, “you just proved my fucking point!!”

“you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” matt mumbles in a deft tone, staring harshly out onto the road.

chris leans over from the passenger seat, gesturing in matt’s direction, “and you do? you never shut the fuck up about her, and she’s always at the house but you’re too much of a pussy to do anything,” he yells over matt all in one breath, words coming out too fast. 

matt’s mouth is set in a firm line and he’s shaking his head, “you guys don’t get it!” he finally yells back, signaling and switching lanes before he can finish his thought, “i can’t do that to her,” the car’s stopped at a red light now, allowing him to look nick in the eye from the rearview mirror. both him and chris shut up for a second.

“i can’t do that to her,” matt emphasizes again, making his point with his hands, bracketing the last two words, “the internet would chew her up and spit her out. you think i don’t want to make her my girlfriend? do you think i like doing this to her? every fucking day i think about cutting it off because i don’t wanna hurt her, but i’m too fucking selfish to do it.”

“it’s green,” chris mumbles.

“shut the fuck up,” matt says through his teeth as he turns back to face the road, driving through the light.

“so what are you gonna do?” nick asks, softer now, arm hung over the back of matt’s seat.

matt looks up at him in the rearview again, taking a deep, anxiety ridden breath, “i don’t know.”

the three boys are silent for the remainder of the drive to your apartment. matt puts the car in park and mumbles something about being right back before getting out and heading up to your floor, slamming the car door a little bit too hard.

“jesus christ,” chris breathes, feeling the tension finally break.

there’s a knock at the front door, and you take a deep breath before opening it. matt stands with his hair a little bit messy and his cheeks a little bit red, but he softens when he sees you.

“hey,” you say, “let me just grab my bag,”

“wait, y/n,”

“yeah?” you turn back around to look at him. he’s standing in the middle of your kitchen, looking a little bit deflated.

“can i have a hug?”

your heart nearly shatters. is he feeling it too?

“wha– of course baby, of course,” you cross the kitchen over to him and he already has his arms open. immediately he locks his arms around your waist, resting his head against yours. you gently rub his back and rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“is everything okay?” you wonder after a second, feeling him breathe heavily against you.

matt squeezes you a little tighter and kisses your hair, “yeah,” he sighs, “nick and chris are just annoying,”

“you love them though,” you remind him.

he pulls away but keeps you close, hands on your hips now, “sometimes i think about reevaluating that,” 

you laugh at him, fixing his messy hair, “no you don’t,”

its his turn to smile, “you’re right,” he leans in for a quick kiss which you grant him, letting it dampen your nerves and reservations on the evening.

“i know, now c’mon, we’ve gotta go,” you slide your hand down into his.

“you don’t have to be nervous, by the way,” matt says to you in the elevator, still holding your hand. 

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and he squeezes your hand, letting you know he’s there for you, “it just feels serious,” you finally admit what you’ve been thinking for the last few days. you’re a little bit afraid to look over at him, so you keep your gaze towards the closed elevator doors.

matt gives your hand a quick squeeze and glances at the side of your face, you can feel his eyes on you, “it’s not serious, don’t worry,” it’s a little strained when he says it, as if he means something else but you can’t quite decipher it. it’s too much to think about now and yet it’s all you’ve been thinking about for days, how ‘unserious’ it all is to him.

when you do get to dinner, marylou and jimmy are already at the restaurant. marylou is being so sweet to you, asking about classes and how you met the boys, what you like do to in your spare time and things about matt that you tease him over. you feel like a girlfriend, you feel like his girlfriend and you don't think you can take much more of it. she tells you how much he talks about you when he’s home, that even justin has started making fun of him for it.

when you look over at matt he’s blushing but staring directly into his plate, avoiding you.

the smile you plastered onto your face fades and you dig your nails into your plam under the table.

“excuse me, i’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you say to no one in particular, catching nick’s eyes. he seems to notice your pleading gaze, and sends you a text after you’ve left the table

nick stromboli 

you okay?

you lock yourself in the single bathroom and stand staring at your phone screen.

you

this is brutal

your mom is being sooo sweet but matt won’t even look at me

i feel like he's embarrassed

nick stromboli

he's actually the biggest idiot that ever lived

chris is lowk giving him a death stare rn

nick was being serious, chris staring at matt as marylou goes on about how nice you are.

nick elbows matt in the side and he looks over, more than slightly fed up.

“i think you should go check on y/n,” he whispers, making matt perk up a bit in worry.

“why?”

“i don’t think she’s feeling good,”

“oh, i hope she’s okay,” marylou interrupts herself.

“i’ll be right back,” matt stands from the table and walks to the bathroom, knocking on the door gently, “y/n/n? it’s me sweetheart,”

a slight panic drops through you as you push away from where you were leaning against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

“c’mon let me in, nick said you weren’t feeling good,” he knows you were nervous about tonight, and he’s hoping that’s all it is, that he can fix it.

you sigh, head tossed back to your shoulders as you breathe out before letting him in, hoping you look more composed than you feel.

“hey, you okay?” he asks gently, closing the door behind him.

“yeah, uh, i think i’m gonna go,” you mumble, looking away.

“what? d–do you want like a gingerale or something?” his brows are pinched and he’s reaching out for you. you step back without thinking about it. you don’t even notice you’d done it until you see the hurt look on his face. he reaches out again, slower this time.

“y/n…”

something in you clicks, or comes crashing down when his fingers brush your wrist, “i’m not your girlfriend matt, stop worrying about me like i am,”

he's a little bit stunned at that and pulls back, saying your name again. 

“no, don’t do that, i heard what you said to the guys last week, and you keep telling me we’re causal and we can’t be anything but we’re at dinner with your fucking parents. i can’t keep prenteding to be your girlfriend, or–or that it doesn’t hurt, i just can’t do it anymore,” 

there’s tears in your eyes you don’t notice until matt whispers, “don’t cry,”

“i’m going crazy,” you tell him, voice so soft, so fragile that his heart breaks a little bit.

“no you’re not, c’mon– we can work this out,” the words are so comforting, and normally he’s the one you’d run to for comfort, but he’s hurting you.

“are we gonna make it official, matt? or are we just gonna keep sleepingover at eachother’s houses four days a week and tell all our friend we aren’t dating?” you ask, pressing your fingertips underneath your eyes, “are we gonna do this for real or are you gonna keep telling your parents about me when you’re in boston, and–and keep coming to my house after midnight with take out just because i don’t wanna be alone working on assignments,” he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a solemn look, so you keep going.

“i can’t take the sorry fucking look chris keeps giving me when i’m walking out of your room, it hurts, matt,”

he steps forward finally, trying to make up for more than the physical space that separates you, “no, c’mon, just–just come back to the table. i’ll stay at yours tonight and we’ll talk about this,”

you hold back a scoff at the irony of him mentioning he’ll stay over, “i need an answer now.” you tell him. he’s gone back to standing a few feet away from you, not touching you anymore.

“an answer for what?”

“can you commit to this now? to me?” you feel like you’re pleading with him and you hate how desperate it is.

“we aren’t having this conversation in the bathroom right now, can we please just talk about it later?” matt asks.

you shake your head, “matt, we’ve been doing this for four months, i don’t wanna wait any longer, i’m not a toy.”

he stares at you, licking his lips. you stare back, suffocating in his silence. it’s all the answer you need.

“i’m gonna go,” you mutter, “tell your parents it was really nice to meet them, and that i’m sorry for leaving,” you add, looking away when you walk passed him to open the door.

you leave the restaurant and call an uber, hardly sparing a glance in the direction of his family’s table on your way out.

“is y/n okay?” jimmy asks when matt comes back alone. 

matt shoves a hand into his hair to push it back, not meeting anybody’s eyes, “she went home, she wasn’t feeling good”

“and you didn’t offer to take her?” marylou scolds, sure she raised her son better than that.

“she didn’t want me to,” matt admits, defeated.

nick and chris share a look, knowing that isn’t the whole truth, or really the truth at all. 

—

a few days later, after their parents had gone back to boston, matt’s shuffling into nick’s bedroom, where him and chris are laying on the bed on their phones. 

matt looks a mess, hair wild and eyes sunken in. he’s been in his bedroom all day, blinds drawn and door latched shut

nick thinks he’s wearing a hoodie of yours, the faded smell of your perfume lingering when his brother walks in. 

“…you okay?” nick asks, glancing up from his phone. 

matt shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with his fists, “i feel like fucking shit,” he admits, still looking down, “i hate that i hurt her,” he tells the two, as if his brothers weren’t already acutely aware, “i was trying so hard to keep from hurting her and i fucking did it anyway,” they wait for matt to finish, knowing he has a little more to say, “i was so fucking scared of making things offical that i lost her all together, she’s never gonna talk to me again,”

nick sighs and looks over at chris, the two of them sharing a sympathetic look before he moves forward and puts his arm around matt, who slumps against his shoulder, “that's not true,” nick says, “she probably should never talk to you again, but she’s a good person, and she’s our friend,”

“yeah, and she cares about you a lot, matt.” chris adds, sitting on the matt’s other side.

matt groans and covers his face, “i know, and that’s what sucks,” he wipes his palms over his face, “god, why was i so fucking stupid?”

“because you really like her,” chris offers, “and you’re gonna try and make it up to her…right?”

matt sits back up, staring at the wall, “i dunno, i want to, i don’t…” he takes a deep breath, willing the pit in his stomach to go away, “i’m more afraid of losing her all together than i was of any of that other shit, but i don’t know how to fix…this,” he says, dejected.

nick perks up, because he’s never seen matt half as lively as he is when he’s with you, or talking about you. he’s pretty sure matt was on his way to falling in love with you (if he hasn’t already) and refuses to let him lose hope,“i have an idea,” he says.

matt looks at his brother, desperate. the circles under his eyes a shade too dark, his cheeks sunken in, his lips chapped. nick continues.

“we’ll need waffles.”

—

it’s been over a week and a half since you walked out of the restaurant, and since you’d spoken to matt. nick’s been messaging you, asking if you’re okay and telling you he’s there for you. there’s been a bit of him telling you how stupid matt is, which you’d agreed with solemnly.

nick’s messaging you now. you’re posted up at your kitchen table trying to review for one of your exams, but more so warding off another wave of tears, pressing your fingertips into your eyes.

you pick up your phone to answer the message nick had sent, something about a sleepover at your place this weekend and a promise of a hannah montana binge, but there’s a knock at your door. you’re confused at first, wondering who’s at your door this late.

“did you order food?” you ask your roommate as you get up, looking in through the crack of her barely opened door. her headphones are on and she's hunched over a textbook with a highlighter, oblivious to any visitors.

your heartbeat speeds up a little bit as you begin to think about who’s on the other side. with a huff you look through the peephole, met with a slightly distorted image of matt anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

he keeps looking down the hallway and biting the inside of his cheek. he’s holding something. a paper bag in one hand and a bouquet of delicately wrapped flowers in the other.

you turn the lock, hand shaking a little bit as the door swings open. he whips his head from where he was looking down the hall to the now open door, your eyes locking immediately.

“matt,” you whisper, not even meaning to say it.

he stares at you for a second, seemingly forgetting any words he would have said for a second before holding up the bag.

“i brought waffles.”

—

“please let me in,” he says breathlessly, as if he was holding his breath waiting for you to open the door. “i know i probably don’t deserve a chance, and you probably don’t wanna hear me out, but…but please,” he licks his lips, grip tightening on the stems of the flowers, (you didn’t think he was listening when you told him your favourites all those months ago) “i miss you,” it’s quiet, the way he says it. he’s pleading with you.

there’s an ache in your chest, you’re trying not to mistake his tenderness for pity. and yet you still find yourself letting him in.

“okay,” it takes so little convincing. you missed him too.

there’s little talking at first, mostly just you and matt grabbing plates down and dishing yourselves out. he went to your favourite diner, because of course he did. the waffles are still warm and are making your kitchen smells like butter and sausage. you move your books and laptop out of the way to make room for the two of you to sit, elbows touching when you start to eat.

you’re half way through your first waffle when matt speaks up. you could feel him staring, his body half turned towards you in his chair. some of your hair falls into your face and his finger twitches before you tuck it away. all he wants to do it touch you. hold you, kiss you, anything. he’s such a jerk. 

“i’m sorry,” 

you freeze for a second, still facing away from him. after you finish chewing you set your fork down and turn slowly, finally looking him in the eyes. the blue has grown a shade too dark, melancholic. 

“for what?” you ask stupidly, just needing to know how he’s felt about it all.

“fuck, everything?” he says, forcefully pushing his hair away from his eyes. 

you shake your head and turn back to your plate.

“y/n,” he sighs, “c’mon look at me,”

you do, but it hurts.

“i’m sorry for what happened at the restaurant, and i’m sorry things got so out of hand and–and that…this went on for so long,” he gestures between the two of you, fixing his wild hair again.

“this?” you ask, voice breaking, thinking the worst, that he regrets it all, that it’s over. it’s really over.

“this stupid fucking dance we’ve been doing for four months, it’s crazy. it was always crazy.”

you huff, probably a little bit too dramatically as you shift to face him fully, “matt, what are you saying?”

“i’m saying that i like you! and it was so stupid to fucking…dilute that becuase i was scared or some shit,” the latter end of his sentence loses volume, he’s getting shy again.

“but–but you just wanted to be casual–” you start, looking down at your crossed legs.

“no, i never wanted to be fucking casual, i was just…. fuck i was just scared.” he says around a mouthful of waffle. the air smells like syrup. 

“i wanna be with you all the time, i like you so much– i just– at first i didn’t want things to be weird between us, which is why i thought a relationship was the wrong idea, but then we started…doing relationship things and it only got better.” he starts, messing with his hair and pushing his food around his plate, “after i stopped being so afraid of that i just, i got scared of another thing,” he finally looks up at you, eyes a little sad, a little heavy.

you can tell that he knows how he’s made you feel, and despite that you hate that he’s sad. you never want him to be sad.

matt continues, “i’d hate for you to get hurt because of my fans, and i knew it was gonna be hard to keep things private, to keep things…ours. i thought that was something i didn't wanna do or i wasn't ready for but…” he sighs, cutting himself off and taking in another big breath. you want to reach out and rub his back, knowing he’s anxious and just trying to calm himself down. 

“you being mad at me i can deal with,” he starts again, “you being mad, or–or upset because of me, is harder to handle, but fuck, not having you at all? that's worse than anything else we’d have to face,” he looks up, dead into your eyes to make sure you understand the weight of what he’s about to say, “together.”

“matt…” you whisper. you’ve forgotten about the food. it’s getting cold but it doesn’t matter.

he shakes his head before meeting your eyes again, “i’d rather go through all that bullshit with you than go through nothing without you,” he sounds so sincere that you think your heart skips a beat.

“what are you—”

“i wanna do this. for real.” he nods once, watching you closely.

“do you mean that?” he hates how doubtful you sound and he hates that he’s the one to have put all that doubt there. he thinks you might cry.

“y–yeah of course i mean it. i should have said it a long time ago, and if it makes you feel any better nick’s been giving me shit for like, two months, and i think chris wanted to beat me up last week.” he offers you half a smile, hoping you’ll give one back.

instead you breathe out laugh. he basks in it.

“i want you to be my girlfriend,” you’re looking down again and your hair falls from it’s place behind your ear. he doesn’t stop himself this time, nimble, ring adorned finger pushing it back, “i wanna be your boyfriend,”

you look up at him, studying his face for a second before you speak. he looks tired and a little worn, like he’s been thinking too much and too hard and worrying even more.

“yeah?” you finally say.

matt smiles at you. he has such a pretty smile.

“yeah.” he nods, smiling now.

“so we’re not just casual?”

matt scoffs out a laugh and stands. you stand too and he wraps his arms around you, tucking his chin atop your head when your arms go over his shoulders. he kisses your hair and breathes you in, the lingering scent of your shampoo and your perfume and you. it’s all over his clothes and his sheets, but nothing beats having you in his arms again. 

“we were never just causal,” he assures you, as if you didn’t know.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @cherrypostsposts

also tagging some of my faves (writers & other creators!!) 🥹 @pettydollie @wcters @grimholic @floristmatt (if you don’t wanna be tagged lmk!!)

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

[vaimetanyx]

Ah nectar, the drink of the Gods

Also known as potion of burn your fingers because you're bad at using lighters and refuse to turn your ceiling fan off

(Full process under the cut)

[Skull pauldron] [Belt] [Greaves] [Toga + sash] [Wig + Laurels] [Armbands] [Flaming feet] [Satyr Sack] [Stygius v1] [Stygius v2] [Nectar]

I really love being able to give out in-character items while in cosplay, and I figured nectar, as a semi-common friendship leveling item, would be perfect. Originally I was going to try sculpting them out of sculpy or something and then I realised I would be unsatisfied with the end result so I bought bought 50 tiny glass bottles off aliexpress

To get the golden-orange filling I experimented with a few things - while the one I was happiest with was a clear PVA glue mixed with watercolour paint pigment for colour and gold pearlescent pigment for shine, it wouldn't set, and I didn't want to deal with a liquid considering I have a long history of just bashing the shit out of things if I'm not very careful, and I don't want to spend my whole con day taking special care of tiny glass bottles. So, I ended up using resin! Coloured the same way as the glue, this was my first time using resin and while I would have liked less bubbles it turned out well

To get the weird blobby looking cork the ends were dipped in wax by my sister, who mixed a few colours together and let the bottles dry upside down to get the right shape

I used two types of ribbon for my two lots of bottles (nearly 100 bottles have been made up to this point), but both were a purple satin. After trying the bow in a way that would let it sit in the right direction and burning the ends with a lighter to seal them and prevent them from fraying, I used clear PVA glue to stiffen the ribbon and secure it. While drying I used a bit of blutack to get the ends to dry straight down rather than to the sides

Then, because small trinkets are nice but can be difficult to carry around all day at a con, I attached some string which is just purple embroidery thread I had lying around. Unfortunately I did too much of a good job tying the ribbon tightly for some of them since I had to use wire and pliers to actually get it under the ribbon to tie it on

But all the finicky work is worth it, they're very cute when complete

(Psst - if you're an Australian con-goer (specifically Supanova) keep an eye out for me on the floor - I give these out to the hades fans I meet!)

#my cosplay #cosplay process #hades game #zagreus cosplay #cosplay props #nectar #a few people have asked me why I don't sell these and why I go to so much effort and spend money on something I'm giving out for free #and the answer is because its fun it makes me happy and it makes the recipients happy #who cares if I'm 'losing money' when I can make someone's day #and still be in character to make my cosplay even better #I don't roleplay and I'm a shit actor but it's about having fun and making connections and keeping up that sense of community #bc we're choosing to be at the convention and be enthusiastic about the things we love #and that is so unbelievably special to me #anyway that's it for the tag rant and these damn process posts thanks to anyone that actually reads all this word vomit

[caughtonwebcam]

my trans! kyle au

this is still a wip but here’s a snippet of a fanfic I’m writing :)

cw: mentions/descriptions of menstruation/blood, gender dysphoria

————

“It’s perfectly normal, bubbie. You’re just getting older. Your body is maturing into an adult.”

Kyle fidgeted with his hands, sinking lower into his bed in shame.

“But I’m not an adult! I’m only thirteen!” he exclaimed to his mother, still refusing to make eye contact. “Why is this happening?” 

The red-haired woman raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t teach you in school?”

Kyle shook his head, confused as ever. The education system when it came to sex ed was never the best. He had recalled learning about periods, but it was never properly explained how it worked and his own biology. It was all about STDs and abstinence. 

“Well,” started Sheila, “once a month, your body releases an egg to be fertilized by a man and make a baby. If it’s not fertilized, the blood build up for the baby is disposed of through the vagina.”

Kyle shuddered, recoiling in disgust. “Ugh! Don’t say that word!”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Be mature, Kyle. Anyways, it’s what’s called a menstrual cycle. Does that make sense?”

Kyle wrinkled his nose. Gross. What if he didn’t want to give birth to a kid? And for a week each month? What was the point?  He shrugged.

Sheila sighed, rubbing the Kyle’s back in comfort. The scrawny boy still trembled a little, still taken aback by what was happening to him. “You see, Kyle,” Sheila began steadily, “it’s something every… every…” She trailed off, searching for better wording.

Kyle perked his head up, eyes widening with concern. “Every what?”

“— Every female born person experiences. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”  There it was again. A reminder. Of the stupid body that was given to him by God. The curse of femininity that he couldn’t erase no matter how hard he tried. He could cut his hair, layer sports bras under his orange jacket, deepen his voice and yet, while it did help ease his dysphoria significantly, he’d still bleed. Both his uterus and heart. If anything, that was scarier than the first sight of blood in the school bathroom earlier that day. 

Kyle groaned, burying his sunspot dappled face in his arms, another pang of  nausea twisting in his abdomen. 

Ugh, shit. How long is this gonna last?

“I think I’m just gonna… lay down for a bit,” the boy grumbled as he pulled the plush comforter over his head. Sheila nodded, ruffling Kyle’s red curls sympathetically. 

“Sure,” she replied, “I’m going to go make you some hot tea. It’ll help soothe the cramps.”

Kyle smiled weakly, “thanks mom.”

When she shut the door behind her, the ginger boy’s grin fell, being replaced by a sour grimace as the twisting in his gut made him want to vomit, his head feeling lighter. He rolled onto his back, cringing as the small movement made more warm blood flow out of him. 

Kyle clutched his stomach and squeezed his thighs together as tears pricked his eyes. 

Holy fuck. This was the worst.

~~~

Stan pursed his lips as he rang the doorbell. Something must have been really wrong if Kyle left school early. Was he hurt? The question plagued his mind until suddenly, Sheila opened the door. She looked down and smiled, being met with the boy, who carried a large gift basket filled to brim with boxes of sanitary products, among other things. “Can I help you?”

”Um, hi, Ms. Broflovski. Is Kyle home?”

Sheila glanced back for a moment, before returning her gaze to Stan. “Yes,” she replied, “he’s upstairs resting right now, though.” 

Stan’s eyes brightened. Good, so he was okay. “Can I see him?”

Sheila bit her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t right now if I were you.”

”Please?” Stan pleaded, “can you at least just give this to him and say it’s from me?” He held up the basket.

Sheila exhaled. “Okay, fine. But I’m not sure if he’s in the mood for visitors.”

#south park #south park fanfic #trans character #trans kyle broflovski #transgender #kyle broflovski #stan marsh

[scout-company]

Stellar Acclimation—Chapter 11: Going Manual

While coming down from the sudden overstimulation from peeking in the engine room leaves Scout a bit dull, the persistent echo in her brand from the ship’s ambient power still making it hard for her to focus, she still wants to explore. Just…maybe the quieter parts of the ship for now.

Besides, when she and Semyon head down the stairs and cross paths with Bronzemarch heading back up, he informs them that they still have a good few hours in hyperdrive before they jump to lower speeds. So it’s not like Scout has much of anything to do other than explore.

And Semyon is a ready tour guide. He shows her around the lounge—a long, wide, hallway-like space with multiple windows and two pairs of couches; one pair around a small table with orange and cream cushions, one pair with plush blue cushions and empty floor space between them. Scout tries one of the blue couches after moving a cardboard box aside and almost sinks into the cushion. Semyon completely sinks into it. 

Once they free themselves from the cushions—which takes more time than Scout will admit because those couches are too gosh-darn comfy—Semyon tries showing Scout the room at the end of the hallway but can’t open the door, for once. Apparently it’s the door to the captain’s quarters, but only Bronzemarch has the permissions to open it. And Bronzemarch refuses to let them in, even after the two of them conspire a futile plan or two. Darn.

After that he shows her further downstairs to what he refers to as the crew’s floor. The stairs end in another lounge-like area, with a pair of tables paralleling some of the steel wall panels instead of an array of couches. And opposite the tables, where the floor raises a step, is a small kitchen that catches Scout’s attention briefly before she realizes all the fridges are empty. There’s another door behind the kitchen, which Semyon opens briefly enough to reveal another orange-lit room he claims is just more storage, but it’s too close to another engine room for either of them to want to peek in. Instead Semyon leads her back down the other way, past the tables and past another raised portion of the floor to an open room.

There’s fewer windows on this floor of the ship—two of them flank the kitchen, two flank the small lounge area, just behind the tables. And the last two flank this room, both framed by two stacks of bunks. The bunks’ frames are sturdy steel while their sheets are the same color of bright orange that unites the ship. All are put together neatly as if intending to be used by new people after their old occupiers moved away. 

“And this is the crew’s quarters,” Semyon announces as he welcomes Scout into the open room, “It’s where the rest of the crew used to stay.”

“Mighty cramped, ain’t it?” Scout fizzes as she peeks into one of the bunk compartments. There’s enough room for someone to maybe sit up, but not much more vertical room than that. At least they look almost long enough for her to fit on the bed without her feet dangling a bit over the edge like they do on her bed in Bronzemarch’s shack. 

Semyon shrugs, “A bit. I always thought they were cozy, but they are kinda small,” while he heads to one bunk in particular, the lowest bunk in the northeastern-most corner of the room. He crouches to peek into it, then looks back at Scout with a grin while he pats the frame, making the steel ring out a funny note. “This one was mine.”

“Huh.” Scout joins him in crouching by his bunk, and when she peeks in she again lights up the small compartment far brighter than the dinky LEDs embedded into the frame by the bunks’ ladders can. Still feels cramped. 

So after a moment Scout pulls her head back out and looks around again. There’s small lockers fixed aside each tower of bunks—empty like the rest of them, probably—but at the very end of the room is another door up a step. It’s a lighter color and sleeker material than the doors leading to the engine rooms; more akin to the door to the medbay, except without a window or red sign. Curiously Scout points to it and bubbles, “What’s that door go to?”

Semyon blinks away from his bunk, at her, then finally turns around to look at the door over his shoulder. “That? That’s just the bathroom,” he says simply. Then he snorts, “Not like you’d need to use it much, huh?”

Scout just starts to shrug with an amused whistle, “Jus’ gimme a towel and I’m—”

Only to be cut off when S.A.I.L. announces over the speakers everywhere, “Disengaging hyperdrive in 3…2…1…”

Scout barely registers the countdown before the ship jolts under her. Semyon remains squatted on his feet; she tumbles onto her butt with a startled pop.

As soon as the ship jolts, S.A.I.L. continues its announcement, “Hyperdrive disengaged. Approaching the Outpost in T-minus 15 minutes.”

Briefly Scout and Semyon share a look, but then Semyon grins again and notes, “Looks like we’re almost there!” while he pushes himself to his feet. After he helps Scout up, he starts to head back towards the crew lounge, but Scout instead is drawn to the nearest window. 

The ship’s thrumming and resonant power is faded in this part of the ship, but Scout can still feel it rumble beneath her fingers and softly in the core of her brand as she presses against the window. But the stars attract more of her attention.

They’re still blazing streaks outside the window as they fly through what Scout presumes is interplanetary space, streams of multicolor light against the void, but they’re not as blinding as they have been while zooming through interstellar space. They’re gentler; lazier. 

Scout finds herself staring at the shepherding streaks of light clear until S.A.I.L. announces, “We are approaching the Outpost’s gravity well. Disengaging FTL. Find the nearest handhold in 3…2…1…”

This time Scout finds a handhold—the nearest rung of the nearest bunk’s ladder—before S.A.I.L. finishes its countdown. The jolt beneath her feet is stronger than the jump to lower speeds, but at least she doesn’t tumble embarrassingly. She still gives a startled crackle and pop as the ambient volume surges briefly before calming back down to a running thrum. 

The stars are back to normal now; distant lights shining in clusters in the nebula-clouded void. Even as they move through space, approaching a large gas giant that soon dominates most of the window, the stars are now seemingly at a standstill. Just watching.

Scout tries to press herself further against the window and get a better look at the gas giant and its churning bands of clouds. But then a siren blares. Red light reflects blindingly off the window in pulses.

“What in tarnation!?” Scout exclaims, voice a shrill whistle above the wailing, pulsing siren.

“Something’s wrong!” Semyon shouts, hands over his ears and eyes wide. He looks up at the ceiling light-turned-alarm, glances at Scout, and hurries to the door. Scout scurries past him.

By the time Scout bursts past the door to the control room, Bronzemarch is already there, hand on the control console.

Just outside the window, the gas giant dominates the view, with one of its many moons partially hidden behind its bulk. But it’s distorted by some invisible mass.

And a holographic overlay across the window is blaring a warning of something incoming port-side. 

“Urgent. S.A.I.L.! Emergency maneuvers!” Bronzemarch snaps as Scout bursts into the room, Semyon paces behind her.

“Bronzemarch! What’s going on!?” Semyon gasps behind her. 

Bronzemarch only chances the briefest glance at them before summarizing, “Curt. S.A.I.L. detected a mass headed our way,” and shooting another glare at the panel closer to the entrance and ordering again, “Frantic. S.A.I.L.! Avoid it!”

In its ever-even voice S.A.I.L. retorts, “I am performing evasive maneuvers. The mass is still heading our way at 7.3 units per second. I suggest everyone hang on.”

Somehow Scout just knows the ship isn’t moving fast enough. The planet ahead of them only tilts a few too-subtle degrees. She bolts ahead, past Bronzemarch. Instinct from somewhere in her core shoves her into the captain’s seat.

“Alarmed. Scout! What are you doing!?”

“I’m goin’ manual!” she declares, hand searching across the console. So many buttons, so many monitors with words she can’t read. But there’s a familiarity in the layout as she scans across for a switch to manual. C’mon, c’mon, it’s got to be here somewhere… That’s the button for shields; it doesn’t want to engage. That’s comms. The screaming alarm’s making it hard to focus—

There! Far right switch. Scout reaches over to flip it, making all the monitors change and give more readings. Most of them irrelevant to her. But the control dial that pops up is just what she needs.

And she just needs one hand to use it. 

“Wait! Do you even know how to fly this thing!?” Semyon frets.

“We’re about to find out!”

After sliding thrusters to full, she grabs the dial and yanks it, tugging the ship along with her. She floor beneath her feet and console beneath her hand pulse and rumble as thrusters engage on full. Her chair shakes as Semyon’s hands desperately grip the back of it.

The planet outside wilts away from view as Scout yanks the ship upwards and sun-wards. The overlay still warns a collision. Need to move out of the way, back up, back up—a few more button presses engage reverse thrusters; she yanks the dial again the other way, gliding the ship through space.

“Focused. Scout! Pilot the ship to that distortion!” Bronzemarch orders, pointing at the swirl on the middle-most display that still has crosshairs focused on it.

“On it!”

Directing the ship is like gliding on ice in all directions, but somehow Scout rides it on instinct. She doesn’t spare any time to question it—just rides the instinct’s rhythm of engage thrusters, yank the dial. Evaluate the mass’s position—still incoming. Thrusters again, c’mon, c’mon…

The distortion soon dominates the window, approaching fast from above the ship, making the gas giant look twisted like a whirlpool. The holographic display across the window declares the mass passing below the ship, and also warns about the angle of entry into the distortion. But it will have to do—too close to correct angle of entry.

S.A.I.L. confirms with an even, “Approaching the Outpost in 3…2…1…”

~~~~~

<< Previous || Next >>

#starbound fanfic #starbound #starbound novakid #fanfic #I Was The Sun #Stellar Acclimation

[houselamentation]

⚡ ✨ 💀 ☠

⚡ ✨ 💀 ☠

⚡ What mythological god would you associate with your OC?

Psyche. Goddess of the Soul ( "soul, spirit, breath, life, or animating force").

I didn't realize until you asked and I revisited the story (because I originally wanted to compare my MC to Eros) that there are quite a few parallels:

-Was born a noble, beautiful, and mortal being. The youngest and most noteworthy sibling.

-Met someone who was supposed to harm her but fell in love with her instead.

-Was confined to a palace and forbidden to see her love's true form. When she failed that test (with pressure from her jealous sister), she had to complete a series of trials with the help of supernatural beings from her home, Olympus, and the Underworld alike.

-Literally dies and is brought to Olympus and reborn as a goddess- which fits Xhura or even Lilith better but shut up.

-Eros is the God of Passion and Fertility, which I think fits Ayla being polyamorous and (spoilers?) eventually helping raise an orphaned demon child and hoping to find a way to have at least one of her own.

✨ What kind of aesthetic do they like?

Pale pink. White accents. Plaid, pleated mini skirts. Kitten heels. Boyfriends' sweaters. Soft lighting. The bright, full moon. A clumsy, clingy orange cat. Neck ties that double as hair ribbons. Debate team. Gymnastics. Outdoor naps. Cherry blossoms. Blackberries. A corner of the library that is for introspection rather than reading. Touch lingering after a handshake. Literally and figuratively looking up to most of her friends. Ambition and overambition. Comfort in the ordinary on a good day and striving for more and better and a way to make it all last as long as possible on a better (or worse) one.

💀 If they were one of the 7 sins, what sin would they be?

I said Greed even before I'd fully fleshed out her character. I was obsessed with Mammon at the time and my Dragon Age Warden is a politically-ambitious "ends-justify-the-means" sort of person. Ayla is just a bit softer and more naive. I never wanted to feed into the stereotype that polyamorous people are greedy but every other aspect of her life is fueled with the desire to prove herself, to be important- irreplaceable, and refusing to choose between her power and her loved ones. Honorable mention to Pride for the wanting-to-be-important thing and willingness to some amount of suffering to happen in the name of the greater good she believes she is working towards. Ayla is educated and quick-thinking. She believes herself invincible and that her plan is the best one. I'm living for the reality check she's getting.

☠ How petty are they? And what length of pettiness would they go for?

More self-righteous than petty but very bad at letting things go. It's more in a passive-aggressive attitude than in her actions but.. yeah, bitch is petty and doesn't even really see it herself. Like: "If you only want me to text happy stuff, you probably won't hear from me for a long time." "My sister is doing well because she's found someone who's well-to-do."

"Did you bring a lighter or are you going to keep using magic in front of me?"

#ayla getsumei #thank you for this

[vang0gender]

i already psychoanalysed you based on kins a couple days ago so this time im just gonna say im surprised you havent dyed your hair blonde

honestly. if I'd managed to get the bleach even when i was bleaching to go red i would have stayed blonde for a while

#muwutuals #unfortunately my hair does not like being bleached and dyed #there were bits that just refused to go lighter than orange #and i didnt want to bleach more than twice #i know theres special blonde lightening stuff but im broke lmao #anyways yeah #why tf do i kin so many blondes

[childeaether]

scholarship.

cw: 18+ only, zhongli/f!reader, professor/student relationships, camgirl au, dragon dildo fuckery

wc: 2.2k

zhongli sighed as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie with his free hand. he was exhausted. today’s lecture had been a long one, and his class was definitely going to need a curve on this upcoming test grade. he’d tried to help them understand the topic. he’d tried assigning a lighter workload. none of it worked. it was like teaching to a brick wall.

he needed to decompress.

he grabbed his laptop and sat on the couch. there was already a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion on the end table. he’d anticipated this. it had become an obsession recently.

he opened his laptop and typed the url into the search bar.

angelsofteyvat.com

he knew this website well. it had started satiating his cravings at 9 pm every day for the last month. he almost wished he’d never found it.

glazedlily is now live!

right on time.

he quickly clicked on the profile and joined the livestream. and there you were, all dolled up, wearing only your bra and panties. it was a beautiful, light pink lingerie set. you looked stunning. there you were.

his star student.

“welcome to the live, guys!” you said with a smile. he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. he unzipped his dress pants.

“how are we today?”

phoenixrising: good how are you

knightk: horny

rockyalchemist: doing better now

zhongli rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the comments. he hated being associated with these losers. hated that you might see him the way you see them.

lapisrex: been a long day, baby. how are you?

he swore he saw your eyes light up. which made sense. he knew how expensive college was; he was a generous tipper.

“i’m doing okay, lapis! sorry you had a long day. hopefully, tomorrow will be better!” you said. his breath caught in his throat.

knightk tipped $5!

you rolled your eyes. “c’mon, k, i haven’t even done anything yet!” you giggled. you didn’t need to do anything. you could sit there and stare at the camera; you would still get tips. even from zhongli.

but you were a hard worker. he knew that. you were top of his class, for god’s sake.

“so, what are we thinking tonight?”

phoenixrising: do you know how to do self-bondage?

knightk: i need that bra off asap

zhongli already had plans for the night, though.

lapisrex: i know it’s last minute, but are your private sessions open?

he watched you pause as you read the comment, your eyebrows furrowing. fuck. he definitely should’ve asked in advanced.

“hmm.. normally i’d say no, but you are one of my favorites, lapis. how much?”

his heart was beating so fast, he thought it might beat out of his chest.

lapisrex: $1,000. i’m willing to go up.

your jaw dropped in surprise. “well, shit, i can’t say no to that.”

he knew you couldn’t. your next school payment was coming up in a week.

knightk: does that mean ur ending the live??

“sorry, but yeah. love you guys! always! but i could use that money. so, unless you guys can do better...”

knightk: $1,010

rockyalchemist: $1,500

zhongli rolled his eyes. as if he could be outbid by these randos.

lapisrex: $2,000

he watched as your eyes widened. just like a deer, frozen by approaching headlights.

“okay, that’s enough!” you said. “lapis, the private session is all yours. sorry, you guys! i’ll see you for the next one!”

before anyone else could comment, you ended the live. a bright red notification flashed on his screen as he received your message.

glazedlily has invited you to video chat!

he joined almost immediately, only pausing to make sure his webcam and microphone were both disabled. he couldn’t risk you finding out. it would ruin you both.

“hey, lapis!” you said happily, clasping your hands together. “it’s our first private session! are you excited?”

he was practically levitating.

lapisrex: very.

you grinned as you read the message. “alright, well, what are you feeling tonight?”

he was feeling many things. guilt, arousal, infatuation-

lapisrex: can i see what kind of dildos you have?

“of course! give me just a sec.” you stood and walked off camera. he heard shifting for a moment, and then you returned with a box about the size of your lap.

“okay, so we’ve got a few,” you said as you shifted through the toys, “what size were you thinking?”

lapisrex: the biggest you have

you giggled, and your smile lit up his laptop screen. “well, aren’t you confident?” you teased.

he was.

“the biggest one i have... it’s a little unconventional,” you said sheepishly, a blush dusting your cheeks.

you reached into the box and pulled out a big, thick, oddly shaped dildo. it had an orange tip that faded into yellow, and then into a dark brown at the base. but it didn’t look... normal.

oh.

it was a dragon dildo.

“this big guy hardly ever gets any action. his name is orochi,” you said. “it really came with that name. i don’t name my toys.” your laughter made his chest tighten.

and god, your hands were so tiny compared to it. they could barely cover the base. he felt his hand travel to his dick.

“i know it’s kind of fetish-y, though, so if you don’t like it we can try something else.”

and normally, he’d say, no - let’s try something else. don’t fuck yourself with that dragon dildo.

but everything you made him feel surprised him, every time. you looked so beautiful. he’d fantasized countless times about you looking up at him like you were at the camera now, your eyes sparkling, one of your bra straps falling off your shoulder. a dick in your hand. he wanted to pull those lace panties to the side and fuck you senseless.

he wanted to watch you fuck yourself with a dragon dildo.

lapisrex: no, i like it.

the smirk you gave to the camera made his dick twitch.

“wow,” you said, amused. “i didn’t think you’d be so kinky, lapis. you’re always so tame during my lives.”

you made him feel anything but tame. you made him succumb to the most carnal, primal feelings he’d ever known.

“alright, before i lube this fucking monster up, any other requests?”

just one.

lapisrex: can you call me professor?

lapisrex: if you’re comfortable, of course.

you raised your eyebrows. “damn, you are kinkier than i thought, lapis,” you said. “oh, my bad. you’re kinkier than i thought, professor.”

something in him snapped in half. jesus fucking christ. he had dreamed of this. of you on your knees, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. whispering his title. dreamt of whispering back a simple, soft-

lapisrex: good girl.

-before, ideally, fucking your throat.

you reached off camera to grab a small bottle of lube. he watched as you poured some directly on the toy, and then spread it with your hands. he’d never been so jealous of a dildo in his life.

after you’d deemed the dildo lubed enough, you poured a bit on your fingers. you looked shyly into the camera. “just wanna make sure i’m fully prepped,” you said, and reached down to take off your panties-

oh.

he’d dreamt of this, too. of laying you on your back against his desk, reaching up your skirt, pulling your panties to the side. taking his sweet time with you. gently, slowly scissoring his fingers in and out of you, watching your face contort as you refused to look at him. you really could be so shy sometimes.

“okay,” you said finally, positioning yourself above the dildo. he took his cock into his right hand. “here goes nothing.”

he had to stifle the groan that left his throat just watching you sink slowly onto the tip. you bit your lip as you winced, pausing to adjust to the stretch. “sorry,” you panted, “it’s… really big.”

fuck. did you have any idea how fucking sexy you sounded?

lapisrex: don’t apologize, baby. take your time.

you shot the camera an appreciative grin. his heart squeezed.

slowly but surely, you sank yourself all the way down to the base. even with the generous amount of lube, he was impressed. you were a determined girl. it made him want to split you open himself.

“fuck, professor,” you gasped, “i feel so… full.”

he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into his hand. you really had no idea what you did to him.

you leaned back onto your elbows, giving him the perfect view of your pussy, stretched around the base. god, you were so fucking beautiful. “i think i’m ready to start now,” you said. your face was flushed, your eyes already starting to glaze over. he’d seen you like this before, during your lives- but this was so much better. seeing you like this for him was so much better.

you were looking into the camera with those same puppy dog eyes you gave him in class. the same ones that sparkled when he called on you during a lecture. the same ones that looked at him with such adoration as he explained concepts to the class.

you slowly pulled the dildo out by the base before cautiously working it back in. you cringed ever so slightly. he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you adjusted to the feeling.

lapisrex: you’re doing so good, baby. take it slow if you need to.

you whimpered as you continued your gentle thrusts. “thank you, professor,” you said softly. there it was again. that dazed, sinful look in your eye. he knew you liked to be praised long before he found your profile. you always flushed when he complimented your work.

your mouth fell open into a silent moan as you gradually sped up your thrusts. “oh, god, it’s so big,” you groaned, “it feels so fucking good.” you threw your head back as you brought your free hand to your clit, rubbing soothing circles while you increased your speed.

zhongli was fully fucking his hand now, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. you were addicting. with a particularly hard thrust, your back arched, showing off your fucking perfect tits. his mouth was practically watering.

“shit, i’m- i’m close, professor,” you gasped, followed by a whine as you circled your clit faster. his cock ached.

lapisrex: not yet.

you let out a desperate sound, still fucking yourself at the same speed. “please, i can’t- i can’t hold on for much longer,” you cried. “it’s so… intense.” you took your hand away from your clit and brought it to tease one of your nipples.

he wished he could break you down like this every night. you were always so calm, so composed. and so damn smart. it had to be exhausting. he wanted to relieve you of all that stress. to turn you into his pliant, brainless slut- even for just an hour.

“professor, please,” you begged, sending a pulse through his cock. he was getting close, too. he’d been stroking his cock so long his arm was starting to hurt. “please, professor, i can’t-”

lapisrex: why should i let you cum?

lapisrex: do you deserve it?

a pathetic whimper escaped you. “yes, yes, i- i’ve been good professor,” you nearly sobbed. just hearing the desperation in your voice was almost enough to send him over the edge. you were right. you had been so, so good for him.

lapisrex: hmmm.

lapisrex: okay, baby. you’ve been good. you can cum.

you threw your head back and sighed in relief. you returned your hand to your clit and thrust the dildo harshly in and out of you. finally, your toes curled; your back arched. “ohh, fuck,” you groaned loudly, “thank you, professor- thank you, thank you.” you were babbling now, riding out your orgasm as your cunt clenched around the dragon dick. zhongli’s vision blurred as he roughly stroked himself over the edge. he didn’t even bother to muffle the gravelly moan that ripped from his throat.

when he opened his eyes, there was cum all over his hand, and some on his laptop screen. you were on your back, still lazily circling your fingertips over your clit. your legs were shaking.

you looked angelic. he longed to reach out and pull you close, to kiss the top of your head. his heart ached in his chest. he knew what he was doing was wrong. but he couldn’t help himself. you were enchanting, and he was only a man. only another fool in love.

you sat up. “wow,” you breathed, “that was… fucking incredible.” you giggled, clearly fucked out. “thank you, professor. i mean- i guess, lapis, now.”

you carefully dragged the dildo out of you, wincing slightly. “i... i really needed that,” you laughed. “i hope you got your money’s worth, too.”

you were worth the earth, the moon, the stars.

lapisrex: absolutely. you were so good for me.

lapisrex: thank you, baby. i hope we can do this again soon.

the smile on your face was genuine, just like the ones you flashed him during lecture that day. a warmth bloomed in his chest. “of course, lapis! you’re one of my favorites, remember?”

he wanted to be the only one.

“okay, professor, time’s up. i’ll see you again soon.” you smiled one last time into the webcam and then you were gone.

he sighed, leaning back on his couch.

how was he going to look you in the eye on monday.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #zhongli x female reader #smut #zhongli #genshin smut

[timelesslords]

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

#this is so cheesy and so long <3 #bon apple teeth #percabeth #percy jackson #percabeth fic #pjo #annabeth chase #pjo fic #percabeth fanfic #i already have more prompts in my inbox than i will realistically every finish #so on a technical level i am not taking more #but if you send one and i like it i might write it anyway lmao #no guarantees though!!

[nanagoswife]

I Failed Everyone. I Failed You.

(^^these are related to the fic^^)

HAPPY MAY 4TH EVERYONE

In celebration, I decided to write this random idea I had literally just last night (right before I wrote it. I wasn't even planning to write last night 😅) Anyways, I thought we could use some Obi, even if he isn't going through entirely good times. With me, I had to end it on a lighter note so sad Obi doesn't necessarily last the whole time.

Pushing this aside, happy May 4th everyone.

May the force be with you, always.

- - -

Summary: After Order 66, Obi-Wan has to go and deal with Anakin. Taking place after the duel, he comes to you for support but, as the next hours go on, you're the one needing comfort.

W/C: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of flame boy, mention of mass death, character death, angst, Obi being a sad boy

The threatening shades of red and orange accented by the black, soot covered ground would’ve frightened him in any other situation. Even the locals had an unwelcoming presence as they floated over the molten lava, gathering Maker knows what.

Now, though, he was more focused on a different fear that had come true. The order was destroyed, his friends turned on him, he failed Anakin. Obi-Wan Kenobi had failed one of the people he strove to do only good for.

Instead of his true duty, he had just battled his closest friend. His brother. His son. The one other he cared and watched over not because his master had told him so, but because he felt inclined to. There had been something in Anakin that peaked something inside of him that drew him to Anakin.

What good was he if he failed everyone he ever loved? First, Qui-Gon, then so many others. Even people who had just been there that fought by his side or died to save him. Then there was this current moment. He had failed to see how the war was a fool’s game. The person leading it was really on the enemy side and let his true colours show in a drastic change.

Obi-Wan had failed. He had even failed you. Compared to you, Obi-wan knew so much more about what was truly going on. Had he seen how overly fond the Chancellor was for Anakin, even you were suspicious. Yet, he didn’t act on it soon enough.

Due to this, you were caught up in Anakin’s tirade before it turned into the battle he had endured. You had come with Obi-Wan hoping that you could talk him back. Anakin always did have a strong connection with you. He had told Obi-Wan at a point that he looked to you as a mother figure, a role model.

It almost worked, too. It was almost as if something snapped in Anakin as you tried to step closer. All you wanted to do was embrace him and tell him how it would all be okay even after what happened with Padmé moments before. That’s not how he saw it. So, he had used the force and threw you against the ship, rendering you unconscious.

Being protective of both you and Padmé, Obi-Wan tried a last ditch effort to try and talk Anakin down. Despite being known as the ‘Negotiator’, his negotiating skills greatly lacked compared to yours. He had failed your mission to bring him back to the light.

With everything, it led to him watching as he was burned alive, almost pleading for help. Instead of listening, he turned away, unable to watch.

The image was sure to haunt the rest of his days as he walked back to the platform with Anakin’s lightsaber. Before this had all happened, he was able to check to make sure both you and Padmé were still alive. Thank the stars that you both were. He could only hope the baby was alright.

When it came to you, he was relieved to know that the one person he loved most dearly was alright, considering. You would’ve been the last straw had Anakin killed you.

Even in this time of pain and grief, he couldn’t help but be amused at the thought of how, not only did Anakin see both you and him as parental figures, but the two of you had really been together the whole time. Whether Anakin knew or not, the two of you raised him like your own because both of you knew that you couldn’t actually have a child of your own. So, Anakin played that role.

That was why you were so adamant on trying to talk him out of it. Unlike Obi-Wan, you refused to raise a hand to Anakin. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have either, had he not almost killed you and his own wife who carried his child. It repulsed him.

As he neared the platform, fear filled him at thinking something may have happened while he was gone. Did clone troopers arrive and find you here? He didn’t want to think about it, partially because, at this point, he would just give himself up to it.

Stepping up the platform, intense relief overtook him when he saw you with your back turned to him. You only turned when both R2-D2 and C-3PO had greeted him.

He didn’t need to say a word for you to know what happened. Why else would he be carrying the lightsaber? Although you hated that it happened, you couldn’t blame Obi-Wan at all. His pained expression showed how heavily it weighed on him.

Obi-Wan didn’t stop when the droids met him. Instead, he kept his path to you until he was in your arms. The tears that he had just wiped away now mixed with the ash on his face once again as he buried himself into your neck. One of your hands easily held the back of his head while the other gently rubbed his back.

As you held him, your own tears filled your eyes. You were unable to bring Anakin back. You had lost the closest thing you had to a son to the dark.

“I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan said, barely coherent through his cries. “I-I failed him. I failed you.” Just his voice wrenched your heart as his pain was so prominent.

His words pained you in a way that they never have before. In your mind, he didn’t fail you or Anakin. You were just as much to blame. As was everything else in and around your lives. That wasn’t what he needed to hear, though.

“Shh, it’s alright,” you said quietly into his ear. To further comfort him, you traced delicate circles in his hair. “You didn’t fail me and you definitely didn’t fail Anakin. There’s no way we could’ve known that this is what was going to happen.”

“But-”

You cut him off, “No,” you said firmly but stayed soft so you could comfort him further. “You taught him well. The rest were his decisions. We couldn’t force his path, Obi.”

Carefully, you moved his head so that you could look him in the eyes, cupping his cheeks with your hands. The usual soft, caring blue was now dimmed with pain and grief. Although that’s how you felt, you tried to remain strong on the outside. He didn’t need how you felt added to his own emotions.

“Come on,” you said gently, “Padmé is inside. We need to get her into medical care.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded and you led him inside by the hand that didn’t carry the lightsaber. When you walked in, you left Obi-Wan by Padmé’s side as you went to pilot the ship off this dreary planet.

-

“Twins?” you exclaimed when you heard the news. You, Yoda, and Obi-Wan all glanced at the other when the medical droid told you this.

“Go. By Senator Amidala’s side, you should be,” Yoda told you when you had looked worriedly at your friend. The fact that she was dying hadn’t quite settled in just yet. Instead of voicing this, you nodded to Master Yoda and quickly made your way to Padmé’s side.

Out of pure instinct, you grabbed her hand.

“Y/N,” she said weakly.

“Shh, save your strength. You’re about to have a couple little ones making themselves known,” you said with a slight chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. To your relief, she let out her own laugh.

The rest of it was all a blur. Padmé’s tight grip on your hand was merely a reminder that you were still here. It was a reminder that these may be the last few moments you get to spend with her.

At a point, you had looked up to where Obi-Wan was watching from the other side of the glass. Trying to be brave, he offered a small smile in comfort. It did help a bit before your attention was drug back to the situation as the grip on your hand was tightened.

Once both Luke and Leia were born, Obi-Wan joined the room and held Luke as you held Leia.

When you looked down, Padmé was smiling at the two babies that the two of you held. Then it fell. “There’s good in him,” she whispered, breathing deeply. “I know… I know there’s… still…” and she faded.

Obi-Wan looked as desolate as you felt. Other than the two of you, there was no one else. Sure, there was Yoda, but relationships with him weren’t as deep as with everyone you’ve lost today. Now, you and Obi-Wan were left with the children of your closest friends.

-

Later, after your discussion with Yoda and Bail Organa about what would happen with the children, you were watching the twins in the nursery through the glass wall. So many thoughts were running through your mind, the most prominent being what would happen with you and Obi-Wan.

During the meeting, the relationship you had with Obi-Wan no longer needed to be hidden. Even though Yoda already had known for years, he was open to what the two of you had to say. This was all to lead up to the point that the two of you would take Luke to his family on Tatooine and, together, you would watch from a distance.

Your thoughts now were about how the two of you would stay hidden with this duty. You thought about how this all would affect the next days, months, stars, maybe years. Would this plague both of you for the rest of your days? Would this draw you apart? Would it bring the two of you closer? Would you finally start the family the two of you wanted?

“Darling?” Your racing mind was interrupted as you heard the familiar voice. Turning to it, you saw Obi-Wan’s worried gaze. This time, it wasn’t because of everything else that had happened. It was a worry for you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, quite…” you trailed off as you looked back to the two newborns.

Seeing your gaze, he immediately knew what you were probably thinking. He stepped up to you and pulled you into his embrace as he placed a kiss to the top of your head. What you needed was comfort, and that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Don’t worry, Darling. This won’t pull us apart, I promise,” he said reassuringly.

As he held you, an idea popped up in his head. It was something he continually thought about, but never was able to do. There was so much that he could finally act on that was once held back due to the code. Now, he could tell you and ask you everything he wanted to for so many years. Especially with this idea now.

“Y/N, darling?” He moved slightly back so that he could look into your eyes. The troubled look that he saw in your eyes earlier was now dimmed down and was replaced with the usual fondness he loved to see. “To prove this, I want to ask you something.”

Confusion suddenly took you over. What could he ask that would prove to you that nothing would happen? That is until he started to sink downwards. He kept going until he was kneeling, looking up at you and held one of your hands in his. The whole time, he didn’t remove his eyes from yours.

“This has been something that I’ve wanted to ask for so long. I haven’t been able to before, but now I can. Y/N, will you marry me?”

Overwhelming happiness threw every thought from everything from the last twenty-four standard hours. It was the first time you truly smiled for days, maybe even weeks. It rendered you speechless as this was a day you thought you’d never get. Eagerly, you nodded your head before pulling him up to kiss him. The first time you would share a kiss without the fear of others catching you.

“I love you, Obi. So much,” you said, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you too.” Obi-Wan lifted a hand to your cheek and traced small circles with his thumb. Although the reasons that made this moment possible were horrible, he basked in this small thing that helped both of you forget. This was well needed for now. “Maybe we could finally start the family we’ve always fantasized about,” he said while bringing his lips to your forehead.

You pulled your head away, but didn’t move away from his hold. “Really?”

“Really. Those dreams can finally be a reality.”

Without any more hesitation, you kissed him once again. There will be much to overcome, but you’ll have each other to work through it. You’ll have the other to comfort the other. Eventually, you’ll have another that will make you want to be better.

Then, you knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t failed you and you hadn’t failed Obi-Wan. Even though you both lost your closest friends, and you may have failed so many, you hadn’t failed each other. And in this blissful moment, that’s all that matters.

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @hopeladybug

If you want to join a taglist, message me or send in an ask. I'll eventually get something set up, but this is the only couple ways for now 😅

#may the 4th #may the fourth be with you #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi wan fluff #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan star wars #general kenobi #master kenobi #ewan mcgregor #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars day #obi wan oneshot #obi wan angst

[miyalove]

good luck kisses | atsumu

—pairing: atsumu x fem!reader

—warnings: best friends to lovers, manga spoilers (specifically the kurasuno vs inarizaki match), swearing, name calling, reader admires his thighs for a split second, *unedited

—synopsis: 3.1k | after countless times of refusing atsumu a good luck kiss, you figured that after the major lost against kurasuno— what better way to cheer him up?

—a/n: this is literally the cutest request ever, thank you so much, anon! + request are open!

you’ve know miya atsumu long enough to know that he’s over all a very likable guy. he’s charming, funny, optimistic, and the list could go on forever. but like any thing else, with perfect attributes comes a few flaws. sure, your best friend is handsome, skillful, and observant but damn is he stubborn.

a prime example of this bold trait is right now. 

it’s game day for him, nationals to be exact. you were waiting in the crowd with what felt like the whole of your school when you got a text. it was from your best friend, obviously, saying to meet him in front of the boy’s changing room 4. you responded with a quick, ‘i’m here’ when you didn’t see his lean figure any where near the entrance. as you waited, you observed the busy halls of the gymnasium.

this is a big game. you could tell from how the school’s going all out in with the cheering and decorations. you were so lost in your thought, you didn’t notice the changing room door creep open behind you.

as you got pulled into the room, you are fast to react. pulling your arm out of the supposed attackers grip, you turned back to run for the door but it was too late. it shut and from what you could see; it’s’ locked too.

“relax, doll,” instantly, your tense figure loosens up at the familiar voice. turning to your “attacker”, you send a sharp glare his way, “oh god, 'tsum. i thought i was gonna fucking die cause of your dumbass.”

you playfully hit his chest as he lets out a small chuckle, his signature smile resting on his lips. you can’t tell but it’s much brighter now that you’re here. he’ll never admit it, but there’s just something about you that makes his mood lighter...

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” as he speaks, he finds purchase on a lone desk in the corner of the large room. he hops up on it, all while facing you still. he’s legs dingle at the edge of the table. as he settled himself down, you see his smile falter a bit.

sad at the sudden distance between the two of you, you find yourself chasing after his warmth like moth to a flame. following his ways, you’re hoping on the desk next time him casually resting your head on his shoulder. in the midst of the comfortable silence, you speak up, “shouldn’t you be out stretching with the rest of the boys?”

“yeah,” his golden eyes can’t help but steal quick glances at you. he can smell the sweet vanilla of your shampoo with how close you are. you’re not looking at him, sadly, instead your focused on the bland walls of the changing room for whatever reason.

despite his thoughts, he continues, "i just wanted to see ya before the game." his words are sincere, you can tell, but even at that you don’t react much.

he doesn’t like how your attention isn’t all on him. yeah, you’re close practically sitting on his lap, but what’s the point in all this affection if you’re not truly with him. shifting his position, you pick your head up at the sudden movement.

the setter is facing you know, deep honey eyes meet your own. there’s something within his hues that you can’t make out properly, a spark that you sometimes only see when you’re with him. a warmth spreads through you at the thought, but quickly leaves once you remember who atsumu is.

he’s your best friend, you remind yourself, you’re not supposed to be feeling things like that for him. 

in the middle of your admiration, you didn’t even realizes he was speaking. “earth to (y/n)? are ya there?” he waves his large hands in front of your face, successfully knocking you back into reality.

shaking your head, you sigh with wide eyes, “sorry, what were you saying?”

in response, the taller boy lets out a teasing giggle. casually, he leans back onto the wall behind him spreading his legs a bit wider. for him, the action probably meant nothing but you can’t help but stare at the way his lean legs flex as he makes himself comfortable again.

“ya liking what you see, doll?” 

this couldn’t be happening. you just caught caught checking out your best friend like a piece of meat. embarrassed, you roll your eyes trying your best to rid of the thoughts of atsumu. not having enough courage to look him in the eyes, you can’t help but shift your attention away. furrowing your brows, the way you fidget with your fingers gets worse when you hear his voice again.

“avoiding eye contact won’t make you want me less, yanno,” he delivers this line with a teasing smile. when you finally shift your attention back to him (just the way he likes it) you notice a pink hue taking over his face. it’s light and if you hadn’t focused on it, you would have definitely missed it.

it’s causes a fluttering feeling in your chest knowing that your actions, and even his playful flirting, is affecting him too. shaking your head, you remind yourself why exactly you’re here.

“’tsumu, you have a game in—,” grabbing your phone, briefly you check the time, “about 9 minutes so why exactly did ya call me over here?”

as if a switch went off in his empty head, he jumps off of the desk the two of you were perched on and grabs at his volleyball club jacket.

“ah shit, i called ya over cause i needed my good luck kiss, but now i’m running a little later than i thought,” frantically, the setter opens and closes his lockers. the clanking of metal echoes in the room. grabbing random gear off the floors and on shelves, he’s slipping on one of his knee pads when he flashes you a beaming smile.

“unless of course, the time can help me out?” tilting your head, your brows scrunch up in confusion. what does he mean help him out? oh! the good luck kiss. 

looking back up at him, he’s hopping around with one shoe on, trying his best to slip on the his second knee pad. you can’t help but let out a little chuckle when he stumbles off balance and nearly falls straight on his ass. it’s a funny sight, your tall best friend wobbling and jumping around like a newborn fox hunting for the first time.

“’tsumu, you know i always say no whenever you ask for...” the two of you suddenly make eye contact. the setter’s lean figure freezes in the middle of the room. and despite his messy hair and frenzied appearance, he looks at you like he as all the time in the world. his eyes, though far away and obviously distracted, hold a much more deeper meaning within them. he’s almost daring you to say the magic words. under his intense eye, you feel small like prey getting watched from the distance by it’s hunter.

“... those things.” defeated, you avoid his strong gaze. you don’t see the way he stares at you (since your so focused on your feet dangling from the desk you’re atop of). you don’t see the way his eyes shine just a little darker or the way he smiles (a real, genuine one) at you with so much adoration and so much compassion that really it would take a fool to not see that miya atsumu is in love with you, his best friend.

it feels like now’s a good time to say it. whenever the two of you are alone, the feelings you give him practically suffocates him. he can’t help but to crave your attention or hear your laugh or make you smile (because you’re absolutely gorgeous doing nothing but you practically glow when you smile). with one shoe in hand and the other untied, the blonde feels like now is the best time to come forward... but of course, that’s not what he does.

“come on, doll. not even a small pe—” 

knock. knock.

the door swinging open, cuts his thoughts off.

“kita’s getting on our asses cause of you, again,” suna’s monotone voice breaks the uncertainty in the room. lingering his stare on your figure for a little too long, the setter nods at his teammate tying his shoe before walking towards the door.

“(y/n),” you wave at your fox-like friend at the mention of your name. quickly getting off the desk, you follow their lead in leaving the room. 

the two of them part ways, suna impatiently waiting for their setter to finish his farewells not too far behind him. “good luck ‘tsumu! even you suna,” at the mention of his name, suna nods.

leaning into your best friend, mockingly he puckers his lips only for you to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “i said no, freak.” stepping back a little, atsumu let’s a out a playful chuckle while rolling his eyes, “whatever.”

instead of a kiss, you give him the next best thing; a tight hug to which he immediately returns. his arms rest on your waist while you feel the weight of his head on top of yours. his grip on you tightens when you pull away for the first time.

“3 minutes,” you mumble into his shirt as a warning. you’re practically choking on his ocean breeze clone with how deep atsumu is shoving your face into his chest.

trying your luck, you pull away one more time and to your relief, he lets go with a sigh. instantly, he gets ushered away by a peeved suna before he can say anything else. as he gets dragged by the arms, you wave goodbye with a smile, “beat those damn crows, guys!” 

“when i do, i better get my kiss!” is the last thing you hear before he get’s shoved through the gymnasium doors. 

hearing the buzz go off, it was the only sound you could focus on. it was the end and the outcome had been more than surprising— inarizaki had lost. the audience seemed to be stunted, the crowd including you had gone completely silent. all that you heard was kurasuno’s crowd screeching in glee. all that you saw was the dog pile of orange and blue uniforms happily cheering for their win.

your face morphs into pure irritation. eyes filled with fury, lips pressed into a line. to say you were pleased with the outcome of the game would be a complete lie. resentfully, you think aloud, “can’t they celebrate a little less publicly.” 

so caught up in side eyeing the flock of crows on the field, you barely noticed your own team huddling up to take a bow for the crowd. you only look away from glaring at kurasuno when you feel an all to familiar stare on you.

shifting your gaze, there in the gym floor is your best friend who is standing closely to his brother. you can see the hurt in his eyes despite being a notable distance away from him. 

in fact, the whole team’s aura shifts right before your eyes. they all wear emotionless smiles, heads down in shame. despite being friends with all the members of the team, you can’t help but focus on atsumu the most. 

his eyes had shifted away from yours, but even without his golden hues staring you down you can tell how hurt he is. you can tell just from the way he grits his teeth, the way he refuses to look up at the cheer squad, and how stiff his shoulders are that he’s taking the lose to heart. 

it breaks your heart seeing how rough he’s talking it. atsumu is a perfectionist and holds such a high standard for him and his team. he works hard every practice and even goes after hours because that’s how much passion he has in this sport. he’s blaming himself, you can see it written all over his face.

without thinking, you lean over the safety railing. bracing yourself to let outa loud scream, “‘TSUMU!” he snaps his head your way again. 

“JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!” mood instantly shifting, you think of the best way to get your best friend’s mood up. atsumu tilts his head in confusion, had you really heard him bad mouthing himself from all the way up there? 

“IT’S WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE, DUMMY! A WELL-PLAYED GAME IS STILL WORTHY OF PRAISE, NO MATTER WHOSE THE WINNER!” 

wide eyed, atsumu flashes you a brief smile. it doesn’t really reach his eyes like the ones you’re use to getting from him, but you decide that even a little happiness is better than none, right now. sending him a thumbs up, the whole team bows while simultaneously thanking the crowd. and with that, they disappear back into the gym halls.  

it seems that this is atsumu’s favorite way of meeting with you recently. here you were again, waiting in front of changing room 4 as per requested from atsumu, himself. instead of waiting though, you knock on the door hoping that you’re not interrupting any one whose actually using the changing room to, you know, change. 

“’tsumu?” creaking the door open, you poke your head into the room. the setter hums in response and you shut the door behind you when he motions for you to come in.

not wanting to beat around the bush (a trait atsumu admires about you), you take a seat on the floor as he shimmies a fresh shirt over his head, “how ya feeling?”

“we just lost. how do ya think i’m feelin?”

you’re glad he has a shirt over his head because then he would have definitely saw you eyeing his lean figure. realizing you need to respond, you rid yourself of those thoughts again, “jeez, it was just a question...” 

rolling your eyes, you hear him sigh as he rakes through his hair to fix up his messy tassels, “i— there was a lota shit on the line for this game.” you hum allowing him to continue. 

“kita gave us this speech thing after headin back to the changing room and it really had me thinkin. he wants to be proud of us, but how can he be when his underclassmen lost to a bunch of newbies,” in the middle of his monologue, he lazily throws himself on the floor.

with his arms wide open and legs stretched out like a starfish, you take it as an invite to embrace him. you settle yourself onto your side to face him on the floor as atsumu continues. 

“this was the 3rd years last game, just wanted to make it a good one but ya saw how that went,” his brown hues never break from the ceiling. it’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you, in fact, he’d probably enjoy tracing all the small detail of your face than the ceiling’s but he just can’t rip his attention away from the bland wall.

he’s really deep in it, you mentally note. the last time you had saw the setter so stressed out and uncertain was when osamu came up and told him that he was loosing interest in volleyball. it was a heartbreaking feeling for him (you knew this because he didn’t lay off of it for nearly 8 months). 

you eye the rambling setter at your side once more. he’s lips are pressed into a deep frown and his eyes don’t shine like usual when he’s with you. thoughtlessly, his fingers tap to a random beat on the tiles all while critiquing every little thing he did wrong in the game. 

it was upsetting hearing him underestimate himself like that. you’ve been with him through most of his volleyball life, and you don’t plan on leaving when he, most definitely, goes pro. 

he’s in the middle of another speech when you’re body moves without thinking. just like when you shouted down at him when he was thanking the crowd. there is just something about seeing the one person you love tear themselves down right in front of you that hurts. 

best friend or not, you figured that making an exception tonight was okay. you wanted to make him happy and in your head it made sense. game after game, he’d ask for a good luck kiss and game after game, you would reject him. it never stopped him from asking though which was baffling to you.

it became a sort of tradition to reject him at this point, even having no shame in front of his teammates too. but this was different, this was more than just a good luck kiss, you wanted to see him again the teasing, stubborn miya atsumu you’ve grown to fall in love with.

so as he rambled, you leaned into his figure. he didn’t even flinch. hell, he didn’t even notice how close your lips were to his. he was so focused on ripping his plays down piece by piece. it wasn’t until your hot breath fanned over his skin that his words faltered.

finally turning towards you, his eyes widen a bit before narrowing them down at your lips, “what are you doing?” his words come out as a small whisper. 

you have no idea how to respond because in all honesty, you don’t know what you’re doing. all you do know is that, with how close you are you can trace every detail of his face from his slender nose to his round eyes. all you do know is that hearing him disgrace his skills makes your chest ache.

all you do know is that despite miya atsumu being your best friend, you want to kiss him more than anything right now.

“i’m gonna kiss you...” is what you say and exactly that is what you do. 

your lips pucker into a soft kiss, finally closing the gap between the two of you. you turned your head to the side, leaning in to deepening the kiss. without hesitation, atsumu is sitting up, gently guiding your figure over to his lap. 

you don’t break away from the kiss as you gladly find purchase straddling his hips. all your senses are overtaken by him. your eyes flutter close but even in the darkness, all you can make out is his beaming smile, all you can hear is his melodious giggles, all you breath in is his sea foam cologne.

you can feel his large hands resting on your hips, pulling you closer every time you even think about pulling away. at one point, it becomes too much. the flame ignited on your skin gets too hot and you need to breath in more than just sea foam smoke.

humming into his mouth, atsumu takes it as a sign to part. breathing hard, you can’t help but to rake your eyes over his swollen lips and how his uneven breathing matches yours. the sight of a disheveled atsumu sends a pang of pride to you heart. 

panting for air, you smile at the boy in front of you lightheartedly reaching out to play with his blonde locks. a comfortable silence blankets the two of you as you focus on evening out your breathing.

in the middle of your gulps of air, you can’t help but let out a laugh, “how’s that for a good luck kiss?”

taking this opportunity, he rubs his nose against your cheek, impatiently waiting for you to give him the go ahead for another. he’s enjoying how your scent takes over him as he smirks, “i wouldn’t know... mind if we try it again?”

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!! x you #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x you #hq headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #osamu miya #osamu x reader

[z3llous]

Would You Still Love me?

(FTM Reader x Sanji)

Warning: Transphobia. It's gonna get sad before it gets happy, so don’t read if you aren't in the mental state for that.

(Also it starts with she/her pronouns for a reason, just wait and see ok? Don’t worry it’ll get there.)

    (Aug 16, 2020)

  He was her closest and most trusted friend. They did everything and went everywhere together, but not today.

    Women were what he loved, y/n was a woman, and y/n loved him. So what was the problem? As much as she loved him, she wasn't sure he loved her in the same way. Her love was unconditional, but was his?

    The path trailed off into a darker more mysterious part of town.

    He seemed to "love" all women, but what about her specifically? Was it simply adoration? Would he truly love her if she asked him to, or would he continue to "love" the others as well?

Wandering aimlessly and alone was the plan of the day. It was all in hope of somehow easing the weight of her heavy heart.

She would love him even if he wasn't a him. Regardless of gender Sanji was her everything. Gender meant little to her as long as Sanji was Sanji, but what about him? Would he still care about her if she wasn't a woman anymore?

A dark eerie shop came into view ahead to her left. It somehow gave her a warm welcoming feeling that flooded her lonely soul and begged for a visitor.

Wasn't the person more important than the gender?

As she grew closer she noticed the witch symbol that marked all magic shops.

The thoughts that plagued her mind and heart relentlessly, became lighter as she turned the bone handle and opened the door.

"May I help you?" A sweet fairly young looking witch asked kindly.

Incense filled the small shop with its pleasant aroma bringing some comfort to her weary mind.

"I don't need help at the moment. Would it be a bother if I asked questions about some of the things you're selling?" y/n said politely, eyes trailing across the shelves.

"Not at all, dear. Look around, ask all you like." She answered happily twirling a strand of her soft teal hair.

"Thank you." y/n said before walking around in search of something that might be of use.

The bay leaves caught her eye, since she'd watched Sanji use them in soups before. Unfortunately, the thought of Sanji wasn't welcome at the moment. Her expression unknowingly dropped.

"I'm sorry to pry, but are you alright miss? No one else is here and I won't judge you, dear." The kind witch asked noticing the poor girl's change in mood.

"I- No, I'm not alright..." y/n answered truthfully, since there was no use in hiding it. Her heart couldn't bear to lie to such a kind woman.

"Well what's the matter, dear?" Curiosity and concern filling the witch's voice and face. She knew from experience how harmful holding in emotions could be.

"Well, there's this man I love, but he adores women in general. I'm not sure, even if he truly loved me, that it would be the same way in which I love him. I love him for him, not because he's a man. Would he still care about me if I wasn't a woman?" Y/n admitted feeling relieved that she'd finally said her worries aloud.

"Ah, your worries are deep and valid, dear. It's understandable that you'd feel that way. Would you mind if I read you? Take a closer look at your soul." The teal witch said looking wise beyond her years. She'd thought similarly when she met her wife and soulmate. One often searches deeply inside themselves and the other when soulmates are involved.

"Why not? I'm always open to learn a bit about myself. " She said walking over.

A teal lock of wavy hair dropped from the witch's hand as she released it and held out her palm calmly.

Y/n placed her hand into hers and waited. The witch examined her hands, eyes, and face with her experienced gold eyes.

"I'm certain this isn't your first life. You've been both man and woman in your previous lives." The witch said confidently and patted y/n's hand softly to reassure her.

"That doesn't surprise me..." y/n stated, eyes drifting to the floor.

"You've known it for awhile, hun. Well, I do have something. I wouldn't normally bring it out, but since it fits your situation. So, I'll make an exception." She said pulling out a purple potion with blue flecks swirling about inside in a whirlpool like manner.

The sight of such a thing mesmerized her eyes with its lustrous hypnotic swirl.

"It changes one from female to male. The only way to reverse it is to ingest a male to female potion. Make sure to take it before you climb into bed, because it has sleep inducing qualities." The witch continued as she carefully poured some into a small shot glass sized bottle, sealed it, and marked it with the male symbol, before placing it onto the counter in front of y/n.

"Thank you, so much." y/n said paying her and placing it carefully into her bag.

"Not a problem, dear. Would you like the other one as well? Some grow to miss their old body within a week." The witch said pulling out a red glittering potion.

"....Just in case, yes." She said after a moment of thought. The sweet witch had experience with these things after all.

"Alright, dear." She said cheerfully as she poured another small bottle and marked it with the female symbol. Excited for the poor thing to settle the turmoil that resided within her.

"I can't thank you enough!" y/n exclaimed paying for that one too and putting it into her bag as well.

"I wish the greatest of blessings upon you, dear! I hope that man sees you for you!" The Teal witch happily waved as she watched the girl leave.

---

Robin was the only one who knew of what she was going to do. Robin never failed to keep a secret for her and she certainly wasn't about change that.

Once night had arrived she waltzed into the safety of her own room. Sliding under the cool sheets she couldn't help but fantasize of the best possible outcome. Excitement filled her system and she drank the surprisingly sweet potion. A pleasant feeling swept through her that was soon followed by drowsiness and so she slipped away into unconsciousness.

---

*drєαm*

hє pínnєd ѕαnjí αgαínѕt α wαll αnd ѕlíd híѕ hαndѕ íntσ thє вlσndє'ѕ hαír. hє вєgαn tσ pull hím clσѕє fσr α kíѕѕ-

---

He squinted his eyes from the glaring ray of sun light that peeked past the curtain. Suddenly remembering he raced to the mirror. Amazing, the potion had worked so well. It would take a bit to get used to, but they already had some previously oversized clothes that fit nicely.

Robin, expecting it, casually greeted them as though nothing had changed.

"Morning, Y/n." Robin said as he walked out and sat next to her for their usual morning reading session.

"WAIT Y/N???" Ussop yelled confusedly, nearly dropping the project he was working on.

"Yes, Ussop?" y/n asked normally, turning toward him as he lowered his book.

"WHAT HAPPENED???" he yelled again.

"Oh, I bought a potion from a nice witch lady." Y/n answered casually going back to his book.

"That sounds SUUUUPERRR!" Franky yelled popping into the conversation for a moment.

"Thank you, Franky, it is." Y/n said with a smile.

"Did it hurt?" Chopper asked peaking around the corner, since he was playing hide and seek with Luffy.

"Not at all, it tasted sweet and made me sleepy." Y/n answered calmly as he turned a page.

"I wanna meet the nice witch lady!" Luffy exclaimed as he fell out of an orange tree.

"STAY OUT OF MY ORANGE TREES!" Nami yelled as she ran over and grabbed all the oranges that fell before Luffy could get them.

"I don't think the nice witch lady would appreciate you running all over her shop, Luffy." Y/n said amused, turning another page.

"Aaaaaw no fair!" Luffy whined as he rubbed the new bump on his head.

"Nami-swaaan! Robin-chwaaan! Y/n- Who are you?" Sanji said walking out of the kitchen with a morning snack only to be surprised by a familiar, yet new face.

"A nice witch lady gave y/n a potion!" Chopper said with adorable enthusiasm.

Sanji just froze with a blank stare, Chopper panicked, and Luffy started poking Sanji.

Suddenly it clicked and Sanji quickly placed down the snacks on a nearby table and sped off to the kitchen.

===[edited^]=== ---

Sanji didn't talk to y/n much all day. He seemed... distant.

Evening came around and everyone was having fun on the beach. Robin was comfortably reading a book and laying on a beach towel beneath an umbrella, Nami yelling at Luffy, and the others were messing around with crabs.

"Sanji! Mind if I help?" Y/n walked up happily offering to help him cook the crabs like he always did.

Looking away Sanji held out a ready to be cooked crab and said nothing the entire time. The silence began to bother y/n a little bit.

"Are you alright?" He asked Sanji quietly to avoid drawing attention.

".....why?" Sanji asked looking down.

"Why what?" Y/n said confusedly.

"Why did you take the potion? I- never mind..." He said refusing to look up.

"What? What is it?" y/n stared at him.

"It's nothing." Sanji said glancing at him for second and turning away.

"It clearly isn't nothing."

"I-..."

"I what?!"

"You were better before this!"

"I can't BELIEVE you!" y/n yelled standing up and running off.

Sanji angrily focused on the crab and Luffy looked up at with a frown.

Luffy walked off after y/n.

---

Sobbing echoed from the cave as Luffy walked closer. His frown dropped further when he saw y/n curled in a weeping ball. He sat next to him and gently placed his hat onto his head.

Y/n calmed down a bit and leaned against him before he began to talk.

"Luffy, Sanji doesn't like me for who I am. I love him with everything I am. Why can't he just love me. Does it matter if I'm a woman or not? I want my best friend back. I'm still the same y/n aren't I?" y/n began to cry again.

Luffy looked down quietly for a moment.

"Y/n is y/n no matter what. He's wrong for being upset with you. You'll always be our y/n." Luffy said as he turned to him and smiled.

Y/n hugged Luffy tightly.

"Thank you...thank you so much, Luffy." He said slowly letting go, giving Luffy his hat back as well as a teary eyed smile.

They got up and walked into town, since Luffy agreed to let them stay the night in an inn. He gave Luffy a piece of paper with his room number and the symbol of the inn drawn on it in case they needed to find him. Y/n hugged Luffy once more before he headed back to the rest of the crew.

---

The had nearly set by the time Luffy returned.

"Luffy? Where's y/n?" Ussop and Nami asked when they noticed that he had returned alone.

"In town." he answered with a rare frown.

"What???! Why?!" Both of them yelled confused.

"He isn't coming back tonight." He said turning to Sanji, who was staring at the sand with his hair covering both his eyes.

Everyone turned to Sanji. They all heard what he said to y/n.

"Apologize to y/n." Luffy demanded looking at Sanji seriously.

"I agree. You weren't exactly pleasant to y/n today." Zoro said getting up and standing next to Luffy.

"Cruel more like it." Ussop stated glaring over his shoulder from where he sat.

"...Yeah." Chopper sadly mumbled next to Ussop.

"Captain's right." Robin said not looking up from her book.

"Not Suuuperrr." Franky said lacking passion.

"Horrible..." Nami whispered.

Luffy walked closer and held out the paper in front of Sanji.

"Go find him and apologize. He'll forgive you." Luffy said pushing the paper against him.

Sanji slowly stood up and grabbed the paper. He finally looked up with a hurt expression.

"Are you sure?" Sanji painfully asked holding in tears and gripping the paper.

"He's your best friend isn't he?" Luffy answered placing a hand onto his shoulder.

Sanji nodded.

"Then go." Luffy said smiling.

Immediately Sanji rushed towards town.

---

He desperately looked for the Symbol. One path to another, alley after alley, turn after turn, he was beginning to think he'd loose his precious friend.

Who am I kidding. He's not just my best friend. He's also my love. I was just confused by the change in gender. My feelings never left and I got frustrated and took it out on him. It doesn't matter, y/n is y/n. I need to see him. I have to. I can't loose him.

As he ran around the corner hope rushed back into him at the sight of the inn.

He quickly apologized to poor man at the desk for bothering him at such a late hour. He scoured the place for the number that marked the room of his love.

"13..." he whispered at the sight of it.

Softly he knocked on the door. Anxiety crawled up his back as his worst fear arose from the depths of his mind.

What if he doesn't forgive me? I'll never forgive myself if he leaves because of me.

The door opened and wild disheveled y/n appeared. They looked at him for a second... and closed the door.

He knocked again.

"Please, y/n. Please talk to me. At least listen." He pleaded.

The door opened again and Sanji walked in. Y/n closed the door behind him and turned towards Sanji silently.

Remorse and longing filled his heart from just seeing him. Sanji couldn't help but quickly pull y/n into a needy hug.

Tears soaked into y/n's shirt as he pulled him in as close as possible.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was frustrated with my own feelings and took it out on you. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I'm sorry. Please don't leave. Please, I love you. Don't leave me. You're my best friend and my love. Don't leave." His tears escaped rapidly and his breath grew unsteady.

His shaky hands grasped y/n's shirt.

Y/n wrapped his arms around Sanji and leaned into him. Tears began to escape from him as well.

"I forgive you. I'm sorry I yelled. I shouldn't have pushed you to tell me. I understand. I love you too and I'm not going anywhere. It's gonna be alright. C'mon,  you can stay here with me tonight." Y/n whispered and gently led him to the bed.

Taking off his shoes and vest Sanji crawled under the sheets. Y/n turned the light off and crawled in too.

He pulled Sanji in close so his head rest upon his chest and began to run his hands through the messy blonde hair.

"Shhhhh, rest easy, my precious Prince." y/n whispered softly kissing his forehead.

"I will, my love." Sanji tiredly answered nuzzling further into his chest and placing a soft kiss onto his collar bone.

They slept better than ever before that night.

#ftm reader #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #black leg sanji #blackleg sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #blackleg sanji x reader #one piece #onepiecexreader #one piece x reader

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader IV

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter IV

Word Count: 6900+

[Chapter III] [Chapter V]

Summary:  [Y/N] “Bell” [L/N] was content with dying. Shot by the person whom they admired and left to die, the world was now left in the hands of the team they once thought as family. However, it seems that fate had other plans in mind…

Content Warning: mature content, gore, vulgar language, blood, injuries

Notes: Things are getting juicy! A lot happens in this one since I merged two parts into one chapter, I just didn’t want to series to run on for too long. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it though! Hopefully there isn’t too many mistakes since I don’t look over what I write sometimes.

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

July, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Germany

After your meeting with Mason, it took another half week or so for everything to get back into order.

You had to go through a psychological evaluation, answering a tirade of questions about your personal mental health. At first you thought about lying just to fuck around, but decided against. It would have just added more problems to your already growing list, and you certainly didn't want to get pushed aside. They wouldn't show you the results and passed it off. Soon enough, you were free to go. 

The CIA basically had you on a leash. Someone had to keep an eye on you wherever you went, and the perfect way they went about it was to put you back under Adler's wing. You had nowhere else to go. 

Then again, it was time to refresh and flex your skills. Unfortunately, they didn't give you back your belongings. The pistol and vest you had was now gone. A bit of yourself felt a bit empty without it, but at least they took it upon themselves to throw away the sentimental baggage that you held onto for so long.

Adler had yet to make an appearance since the base. He wasn't even there on the plane ride to Germany, leaving you to travel with Lazar and Mason, whom both snored loudly. You didn't have much to bring with you other than the clothes on your back and a few care packages Mason had forced you to carry, saying something along the lines of Woods craving "a sad excuse for candy", which turned out to be a pack of Hershey's. 

As the ETA to the safehouse got closer, you couldn't help but dread the moment you had to walk through the metal shutters. What were you supposed to do? Act normal like nothing ever happened, and carry on with the day? That felt like the most obvious answer, and yet the thought of just having to work alongside him again made you both irritated and anxious.

The three of you arrived in West Berlin early in the morning, approximately at four a.m.. You could see the landing strip become dimly lit with the ground lights, as well as the control tower poking out in the distance. The airport was rather quiet and not busy as you had anticipated. A nice chill met your exposed skin as you walked out of the aircraft, and you felt Lazar placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Welcome back, Bell.”

Orange streaks poked through the sky by the time you arrived. The outside of the safehouse looked no different since the last time you laid eyes on it. 

It was still anchored in its spot, not a leaf out of place. However, the inside felt so foreign, as there were things now occupying the spaces that were once empty. A couple of more metal tables were placed around the main area, and there were now a couple of towers made from file boxes. It felt a bit more cramped because of it, and you almost knocked some over on your way out. At the same time, though, more cozy at least. 

First thing you did was get a haircut. More specifically, Sims took it upon himself to give you one once he arrived. He wasn't a professional or anything but he does a decent job, surprisingly. Your head felt significantly lighter.

Going to drop off your bags, your room was left untouched by time. It was lightly furnished, your bed was shoved into the corner with fresh sheets pulled over it. A wooden table was pushed against the wall near the door, drawers empty. On top of it, there was a Swiss watch. It seemed fairly new, but there were a few nicks and scratches on the glass cover that gave its age away. The leather strap had light creases, and it stretched out as you secured it around your wrist. Someone already took it upon themselves to adjust the time.

That was when you noticed a small rectangular package that was sitting next to it.

It was wrapped in brown paper, and pulling back the tape, it unfolded and revealed a bunch of old newspapers that served as wrapping paper. Perplexed, you ripped them off, and found a weird device. Wrapped around it was some kind of wiring. Sifting through the papers for some sort of explanation, you search for a note of some kind but to no avail. You never seen something like it before, and asked around the safehouse (except him) what it was. They told you it was recently produced, and that it was basically a portable cassette player. No one seemed to know who gave it to you, or if they knew, they wouldn't reveal it to you. Whoever it was, you were thankful for. 

Having music blasted into your ears couldn't be more reassuring. The voices were drowned out, and you were able to just listen to the noise of musical instruments and heart-moving vocals. You found it easier to focus in this state. 

There weren't a lot of selections on the tape, and they were also from different genres. You listened to all of them on loop multiple times, even when falling asleep. Seeing how Sims was the supply man around here, you would probably have to ask him about it later. If he was generous enough, you'll see. 

Though, in return, you couldn't hear the talk going around the safehouse. If anyone needed your attention, they would need to tap you on the shoulder, or wave a hand in your view. You developed the ability to roughly read lips so you didn't need to take off your earphones as much, but if anything happened outside your peripherals, you didn't notice.

As for Adler, right when you set eyes on each other, it was like you both, begrudgingly, made a silent pact to avoid each other as much as possible. If one of you happened to be nearby, either you or him would make a detour. And if it just so happened that he needed to talk to you, he would send someone else in his stead to deliver papers or to just advise on what you needed to do next. Sims refused to be the messenger after the second time, and you even saw him talking to Adler in the back corner telling him to suck it up.

“How old are you again? Because this is getting ridiculous. You’re going to have to get used to working with them again, or I will formally write both of you up for therapy,” you heard him say.

Three days after your arrival, a briefing was finally held at twelve o' clock sharp, 

You took a seat on one of the metal stools near the radio station, rotating the knob around and listening to the music stations. Most of them were static, as there wasn't a definitive signal in these parts. Unable to come to a decision, you flipped it off.

Hudson comes around, giving you a small nod when he noticed you had already joined up in front of the board. Everyone else gathered, pulling out stools or sitting on top of the table. You had to nudge Woods to the side just so you could get a view of the evidence that was being put up.

"Finally got ourselves a mission,” Hudson starts. “Our sources informed us about more intel on Soviet activity regarding a catastrophic weapon, and it has Perseus written all over it. Detonating the nukes failed, so this is probably Plan B. As for what, when and where, we don't know yet. With the intel we’re going to obtain, we can find out. The bastard’s been lying low for the longest time, so it’s about time.” 

Hudson points directly at you with the marker in his hand.

"Bell, you're in on this one."

You perked up immediately as Hudson mentioned your name, taking out your earphones. It almost felt unbelievable. After months without having anything to do, you finally had the opportunity for some action, and the first thing was being deployed on a mission. It felt like a welcome back gift from Hudson in a way. Or maybe it was his way of apologizing. With that man, you could never tell. 

"You'll be providing distance support with Woods as Adler and Mason go in to snag our prize."

You nod, fixing your posture. Truth be told, you weren't exactly paying attention, since you expected just to stay in West Berlin. But now things were different. 

“As for where, you’ll be going back to East Berlin. The Iron Curtain is still strong, and security is tighter than ever since last time. The two groups will enter through different ways, more details on that later. You’ll both head to this area—” Hudson circles a place on the map, just between East Berlin and the border of Poland. 

“You’re going in light. You'll be dressed as civilians, and the CIA informant I mentioned will meet you here, get the guns you need. From there, it’s all or nothing. Try not to cause mayhem.” He tosses the marker onto the desk. “Questions?”

"Yeah, I have one. Any reason as to why you need Bell on this one?"

All eyes turned to the speaker, which was none other than Adler. You gritted your teeth, annoyance already beginning to make its rounds. Of course he would pull something like this.

"Is there a reason as to why we shouldn't?" Hudson replies coolly. "Bell already proved themselves back at Solovetsky. That's enough for me."

"Yeah, what the idea, Adler?" Woods challenged, hopping off the table he sat on. He strided over to Adler, confronting him face to face. "Something wrong with Bell?"

"Bell hasn't exactly had the healthiest of minds as of lately,” Adler states coldly, getting up from his seat to meet Woods eye to eye. “One fatal mistake and the mission's compromised."

"It's not like Bell was given a choice on that matter, considering what you've all done," Mason joins in with a blatant distaste. "Unless… there's something else you’re hiding."

Adler shot a glance towards your direction, and you sent him a death stare in return. He contemplated for a moment, before backing down against Woods. 

You couldn't tell what was going on inside that mind inside of his and you hated it. You couldn’t even catch a breath whenever he was around, and his mere presence or thought of him agitated you. Despite pledging to yourself not to let him get an advantage over you, he never failed to piss you off in some form.  

"Bell's going on the mission, Adler, whether you like it or not. Work as a team. They didn't go through a psych evaluation for fun," Hudson affirms. "You all leave the first week of August."

Once the meeting was dismissed, you put your earphones back on, turning the music back to its max volume. You grabbed a small roll of bandages from the back storage, wrapping them around your hands as. The punching bag seemed like a great idea at the moment for blowing off steam, and you headed over before you could bash a wall in. 

Testing the weight of it, you propel it away from you, stopping it when it returns. Getting used to it, you gave it a final push.

When it rounded towards you, you sent a clean jab to its side and watched it recoil upon impact. 

You continued this cycle, increasing your hits each time as you relinquished your anger. What the hell was his problem?

There was a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump. You resisted the urge to instinctively draw back a fist, instead holding it at your side.

Turning around, you found Woods waiting patiently with a stern, but intrigued, expression.

"What is wrong with you?" you growl.

"You're going to go deaf with that shit blasting in your ears. I could hear it a mile away," he advised.

"Is that what you came here to tell me?" You return back to the bag as Woods just took a seat on top of the table nearby.

"You gotta put more 'oomph' into it, Bell. Put the hips to work."

"If I wanted tips, I would ask Sims." 

Regardless, you adjusted accordingly and delivered a series of jabs and hooks to the bag in front of you. Although better, there was still room for improvement. But, you couldn't concentrate now with Woods silently judging you with crossed arms, but you obeyed every suggestion he gave. Put your weight more on the tips of your toes, keep moving, etcetera. Sweat was already beginning to run down your forehead, your shirt sticking to your skin and the threads of the bandages fraying.

Heaving, you stop assaulting the bag when you start to feel your chest constrict. Something white flashes just outside your peripherals, and you quickly catch the towel Woods tossed. 

"Why don't you take a break and talk with me for a bit?" 

Sighing exasperatedly, you pull out your left earbud and you unwrap the bandages. He was unusually persistent today, but you knew he was too stubborn to be ignored. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Well, to start off, you looked kinda pissed earlier."

"Did I?" you questioned curtly, flexing your fingers. "Maybe I just have that kind of face."

"Don't be a stick in the mud, it wouldn't kill you to talk about it. You know me, I can keep secrets."

"Because you're the expert in quiet."

"Of course I–" He cuts himself off in realization. "Did Mason tell you that?"

"Probably."

"Goddammit," he swears under his breath. "Anyways, Bell. Let's talk."

You hummed in response. Mason did say he was a good listener. No wonder they were buddies. "Before we do, tell me what happened to Mason. He said he went through the same shit I did."

"Weird way to start off, but yeah, it’s some fucked up stuff, really." He hands you a water bottle, which chug instantly. "Mason was originally brainwashed to be a sleeper agent for the commies. They gave him the ability to read some sort of numbers. I don’t really get it myself, but Hudson and Weaver were getting desperate, and needed to find out what they were. They strapped him into a chair… gave him a harsh time. That kind of crap."

You wipe away excess water from the corner of your mouth. "Sounds like you guys go far back."

Woods chuckles. "'Far back doesn't even cover it." 

"Why do you want to talk, anyway? Before, I was the one to initiate the conversation."

"I just want to get up to date with you," he claims, although you could detect some kind of hidden intention behind his words.

You roll your eyes. "I'm serious, Woods. Did Adler put you up to this?"

"It always goes back to Adler doesn't it? You asked Mason the same thing." 

“And if I did?” 

"Just talk to the guy he’s really bothering you. Hell, I’ll turn a blind eye if you happen to sock him in the jaw again.”

You smirk at his thoughtfulness. “Inciting violence in the workplace now?”

“Don’t tell Hudson,” Woods jokes. “But, in all seriousness Bell, what's up?”

"Nothing." You eyed him for a bit. He had a raised brow and tapping a finger, just waiting for you to tell him anything. It was clear that he didn't plan on leaving you alone, so you took a seat on the floor. "You should learn how to mind your own business."

"Come on.”

"No."

“I’m not going to shut up until you do.”

"Fine." You lower your voice just enough so Woods could hear. It took a bit to force the words out, but knowing the type of guy Woods was, you felt a bit more confident. "Truth be told, I… don't think Adler's exactly happy to have me back."

"How so?"

"You're kidding, right?" You scoff. "You saw what happened earlier. Bossman didn't even want me on the mission."

"A dick move on his part."

"No shit." You gave a heavy sigh. "I-I don't know. It's what I expected, but it still hurts. Like, I worked with the guy, and he shoots me in the end… Maybe a small part of me expected him to be a bit apologetic."

"When you've been doing this kind of work for years, you'll experience some stuff. By all means I'm not defending him, but seeing a body you got rid of come back to life isn't exactly easy to come to terms with."

You roll your eyes. "Wow, I feel so much better."

“Hear me out, Bell,” he starts, and you prepared yourself mentally for a long talk. “When you were MIA, there was a part of me that wished you were alive. Even being told that you had supposedly ran back to Red, it didn't feel like you would do that, you know? But we had no other choice but to accept it as reality. 

"Hudson dismissed the team shortly after that. We went back home, left the safehouse behind for a good year and a half, we thought our work was done. Then we got a call, saying that there's been suspicious activity relating to Perseus going amuck, and then fast forward to today, we’re back where we started. The place felt a bit empty without you, kid."

"You missed me?"

"Fuck yeah we did! Having someone a bit younger on the team really livens up the mood don't you think? Another newbie to bully a bit. So think of this as making up for lost time."

"That's nice to hear, I guess."

Woods scratches the back of his head. Talking to you was harder than he thought, especially since you were so adamant on hating Adler. It wasn't his job to maintain your relationships in the workplace, sure, but you having this mindset would hurt yourself and everyone else in the long run. Plus, he hated seeing you like this.

"I'm sure Adler's just trying to wrap his head around this,” he comes to say. “Just give him time. He was ordered to kill one of his own, after all."

"On the contrary, isn't it me that should be 'given time'?” you challenged. “I'm the one that took the bullet, not him. It's his fault for being a lousy shot, and me being here is the consequences of his own actions."

Why should you give Adler the benefit of the doubt? Clearly he didn't feel any remorse for what he did. While you have yet to speak a word to him, it felt like he personally had it out for you. Adler should have to deal with you, not the other way around. And the stunt from earlier further proved your point.

"Just think about it, Bell. We all have our own emotional baggage. I'm not saying that yours isn't important, but everyone has their own shit to deal with. What I'm saying is to just let things play out. You never know."

"Because you definitely have the experience of being presumed dead by your best friends," you utter sarcastically under your breath. 

Admittedly, hearing everyone's stories so far about how they felt during your absence was heartwarming. You thought it would be awkward trying to settle back in, but instead they all welcomed you back with open arms despite the lies they've been told. 

Woods’s expression drops slightly, like he had just remembered an unpleasant memory. "Well…"

You perk up, raising your eyebrows, suddenly a bit interested in hearing his story.  "...You're joking."

He smiles wryly. “You know Kravchenko, right? Had a bit of an encounter with the man, and needless to say, he’s on my shitlist now. Mason and I have it in for him, that guy is dead the moment we see him.”

“What happened?” 

The veteran adjusts his sitting position, leaning back on his hands and giving out a loud sigh.

“We were caught by a few Viet Cong soldiers, forced to play Russian roulette. Scariest fucking thing I’ve done, you Russians are deranged as hell. But, we managed to make it out of there and turned the place into a living hell. Then, there was Kravncheko, beating the shit out of Mason, so I stabbed the fucker in the back. And he still wouldn't kick the bucket, and decided to pull a damn grenade. So, I took him on a trip, right out the window."

"You survived?" you say in awe. Woods really had a way of telling stories.

"I ain't dying to the likes of him! But, he came to first, and then threw me into a POW camp, before shipping me off to Da Nang. But I wasn't going to fucking die in that shithole, so here I am now."

"Hm, I guess we have something in common now,” you grin.

"Well, now that I told you some of my history…" Woods hops off the table to sit beside you. He props a knee up to rest his arm on, and it reminded you of a child who's excited for a bedtime story. "You need to share some of yours."

You gave a dry laugh, shaking your head. "...You set me up for this."

"C'mon. Sharing is caring."

"I'm not a storyteller."

"Well you are now."

0000

“Bell sure has taken a liking to the Walkman.”

Adler looked up from his station, and found Lazar standing across from him. 

Taking a peek over in your direction, you sat alongside Woods near the punching bag. You were both exchanging something he didn’t know about, and even saw Woods giving him a few glares over the shoulder. Shortly after though, the conversation turned lighthearted, both of you laughing at something.

"Mason!" you shouted. "Did I ever tell you about the time where Woods assaulted the mannequin?!"

Woods jumped up. "Bell! What the fuck?!"

"Oh shit, sorry."

The Walkman Lazar referred to was poking out of your back pocket, playing whatever cassette tape inside. A wire poked out from the end of it, before parting into two, leading to your ears.

“What about it?” Adler says flatly, before resuming his work on the mission files.

You haven’t spoken a word to him. Not one bit. Even after he questioned Hudson's choices. Whenever he did talk to you, if he even tried to, you would only nod or shake your head in response to him, and the only time you would look at him was to scowl. He noticed you would flinch slightly at the tone of his voice, and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it. Or how you would lock the door whenever you went to rest. 

Not only that, but it was clear that you were talking to everyone else but him. It had taken some time for you to warm up to the rest of the members again, but it was noticeable that you were closer to Lazar and Mason. While they weren't full blown paragraphs, you would engage in brief conversations with them frequently. You were on close terms with Woods and Mason, and Sims was decent. For Hudson, at least, whenever he dropped by, you answered with single word statements. And you hated Hudson.

So if you hated Hudson, how did you feel about him?

“You haven’t been exactly doing your best at trying to reconnect with Bell either, you know,” Lazar points out, before taking another bite from his food. 

“Are you implying that I take initiative instead?”

Lazar shrugs. “If what you call earlier 'taking initiative', you need a new approach.”

Adler had nailed it relentlessly into you that you’ve known him and Sims since Vietnam, but the truth was that you only knew each other for a few months. He couldn't exactly waltz up to you, declare an apology, and expect everything to be how it was before you found out. So, he could only hope you were faring well, or managing a way to deal with it all.

"I'll think about it," was all he said. 

"If you say so. You need ideas? Let me know." Lazar was about to walk away, before pausing and turning back. "Drinks tonight?"

"Ask Woods. He's been dying for one."

Lazar laughed before departing.

Thinking about what he had told him, Adler couldn't help but feel a little spark of relief. If one were to look closely enough, the corners of his mouth were upturned slightly in a smile. It wasn't noticeable to the naked eye, but it was there. 

He was the one who left you the Walkman after all, so to hear that you favored it dearly was a plus one in his books.

0000

Giving out a loud yawn, you slapped your cheeks trying to keep yourself awake.

It was now the first week of August, and it was just your luck that you couldn't get a good night's sleep the day prior. As exhausted as you were, you've been looking forward to getting back onto the field. Hopefully you weren't as rusty as Woods claimed.

"I'm surprised you never shot the asshole yet."

You looked up from your scope at the building across from you, where Woods sat comfortably. Adjusting your grip on the rifle, you resumed to survey the streets below you, noting the positions of bystanders and patrolling guards. 

"Shot who?"

Berlin was just as depressing as it was the last time you were there for the Volkov mission. Sneaking through the U-Bahn, meeting up with Greta Keller and her asking you of a favor; breaking into the apartment due to Lazar (graciously) volunteering you, only to be compromised thanks to Lukas Richter, whom you let free beforehand. The dark side of you would have loved to put a bullet through the backstabbing traitor, but Belikov did the job for you (unfortunately).

“Damaged goods.”

You worked with Adler on that mission.

“Oh.” You had answered your own question. “Truth be told, the thought never really crossed my mind. But, now that you mentioned it…”

You adjust your position, now looking down at an alleyway a good distance from where you were perched. You trained your crosshair to be about the height of a six foot male, pointing it directly at the corner of the wall. 

“You’re sick, Bell,” Woods’ voice echoed in your earpiece. “You know that?”

“Bastard did say that I didn’t have ‘the healthiest of minds’,” you retort, doing an awful mimicry of Adler’s voice. 

“I can hear you.”

Good.

"It's Mason. Look sharp, we're in position."

The building of interest wasn't as large as you thought it would be. Apparently it's an old apartment building with a clothing shop on the first floor. There were no occupants, most likely forced to relocate upon the start of the war. 

Zooming out, you see Mason and Adler round the corners on opposite sides of the building, wearing the uniforms of local police. Mason was on the left side, and Adler on the right. They took positions next to the door. You could hear Adler countdown, and you held your breath as they both opened their doors simultaneously, peeking inside before slithering in and shutting the door.

“First floor clear. Moving to second.”

Your vision was limited, but you kept an eye on the windows on each floor, waiting for any suspicious activity. Everything was going smoothly so far, the duo having no issues as they continued up the building. 

You saw something shift. “Heads up, movement on the fourth floor,” you utter into your earpiece. 

“Got it,” Adler confirms over comms. 

After a moment of time passed, the weather started to turn sour. It almost seemed like the weather reflected the mood of the people: the skies completely dark and rain continuously pouring. The rumbling cracks of thunder rolled in following the flashes of lightning. You winced at the first clap of thunder.

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of a little thunder, kiddo,” Woods taunts from his end. 

“I was just caught off guard.” 

“Third and fourth floor clear.”

Mason and Adler rendezvous on the fourth floor, and you could see Mason drag a body out of view as Adler closed the door. They converged in the middle of the room, but a wall blocked your view. 

“What the hell? Is this what we came here for?” Mason voiced in disappointment.

“Why, what is it?” 

You couldn’t hear the reply over the clap of thunder. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt uneasy, the operation was going by too smoothly. The guards around the area never so budged from their spot, instead chatting away with their partners, or too busy being held up on unsuspecting bypassers. You wiped away the raindrops from your scope using your finger, before taking the chance to sweep another view of the streets once again.

Another flash of white and a clap of thunder. 

"Mason, Adler? What's the hold up?" Woods asks. You both waited for a response, only to hear static. He repeated the question again with more urgency. 

Nothing again.

"Shit…" you cuss under your breath. You couldn't see anything from the window. 

Looking at your watch, the team was supposed to meet at the extraction point in twenty-five minutes. From there, you would be taken back to West Berlin. But Mason nor Adler had confirmed anything, and you were all going to fall behind schedule at this point.

Contemplating the choices, you folded the bipod for your rifle. You wouldn't have time to dismantle the attachments, so you threw the strap around your shoulders to let it hang from your back. Whipping out your sidearm, you loaded in a few bullets and adjusted the silencer at the end. 

“Woods, I’m going in,” you announce, already dashing towards the edge of the roof. “Cover me.”

“Dammit Bell, wait—”

“Don’t worry about it. I got this.”

Vaulting over the edge, you slide downwards on top of a metal shed, before landing on a balcony. You cursed silently as your equipment banged and jingled with every movement you made. Praying that the Stasi had horrible hearing, you lean over the rail, checking to see if there was anyone patrolling under you. With the coast clear, you tested the strength of a nearby pipe before climbing down on it. 

You could feel it just waiting to give out any moment, but you made it down without any trouble. Landing with a thud, the alley was dark, scarcely illuminated by the streetlights. Rain was pouring down, the sound of the droplets hitting the pavement covering your tracks. 

Rounding the corner, one soldier stood alone. They had a cigar in their mouth, and you could smell the fumes making its way your direction. The smell of nicotine and tobacco made you sick to the stomach for some reason. You waited for the next boom of thunder to occur, and when it did you snuck up behind them. 

Covering their mouth and having a good choke hold on them, you dragged them back into the depths of the alley where light couldn't reach, before snapping their neck. You put the body inside a nearby bin, and continued on your way.

"Woods, how's it looking over there?" you whisper.

"Still no sight of them. Are you sure you got this?"

"This is me we're talking about."

You stuck close to the walls, making sure to avoid any well lit areas. The clothing shop was just across the street, and you didn't have a clear path. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you looked for any other possible routes nearby. A couple of patrol cars were lined up alongside a makeshift barricade towards your right. There were two figures sitting on the hood of one of them.

"Hey, need your help on something. At your four o'clock. Two on the car. You take the one on the left."

"Got it."

"On my mark…" you began to count down, steadying your crosshairs onto their head. The rumbling of thunder started to go off as you held your breath to steady your aim. "Now!"

The thunder drowned out the sound of the silencers, and you quickly ran over to the cars as lightning flashed. 

"Good hit."

Working quick, you pulled both of their bodies off the car and shoved them under it, tucking their arms and legs in. The rain was already cleaning the blood off the car, not noticeable from a distance.

You let yourself catch a breath before moving behind the next car. Peeking over the trunk, you could see that the attentions of a couple police officers were pointing towards the general area of Woods position, and you prompted him to move to a different area. "They got eyes on you Woods, try find a better area before they start moving."

“Well, time to pack it up. You’ll be on your own for a bit, kid.”

Entering the shop, there were racks of clothing pushed up on the sides. A few shirts were strewn across the ground, and the cash register was propped open and rusty. The lights were off, the streetlights casting a dim glow inside. An open door was behind the counter, leading to a flight of stairs. 

Going up, all the doors leading to each floor were wide open, and taking a peek inside, there was no one. It was eerily quiet, to a point where your light footsteps echoed. The building appeared smaller when you viewed it from afar, but travelling up 

Pulling the door open to a crack, you peered inside and saw that a group of Stasi were gathered around something on the floor. They were speaking erratically in German, trying to figure out what to do. Leaning in a bit more, you realize that they were surrounding the Adler and Mason, who were on the floor. They weren't moving at all.

Were they dead? 

No, there was no way. They wouldn't go down without a fight. But the simple thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

Whipping out a flashbang, you ripped the door open and threw it in as hard as you can. A blinding light flashed before you. Squinting through the brightness, you took the one closest to you as hostage, letting them absorb any bullets that fly your direction. You popped one shot into each of the guards, four in total, before adding your makeshift bulletproof jacket to the pile. They fell to the ground, clutching their chests as they drew their final breath. You stepped over them, kicking their arms aside. 

“Well, I found them.”

“How do they look?”

Adler and Mason remained unmoving as you got to them. Squatting, you leaned close to check if they were still breathing.

You gave a sigh of relief. “Unconscious.”

“Well we don’t have all night, Bell. Wake ‘em up, I hear police cars approaching the area.”

“Yeah, give me a couple minutes.”

You brought your hand up to Adler’s face, about to deliver a good slap to wake him up, but you stopped midway, noticing his rather peaceful expression despite the situation.

There were strands out of place from his normally styled hair, and his sunglasses were just about to slip right off the tip of his nose. Finally, the man was quiet. But, you had to admit, the more you looked at him, you couldn't help but find him rather–

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This was the guy that tried to kill you. The one that didn’t want you on the damn mission. And yet why did you feel this way? 

Brushing aside your thoughts, you propped Adler against the wall, only to notice that there was a hole in his side. Lifting up his shirt, there was a bullet wedged inside him. It wasn’t lodged in too deep and didn’t hit any important arteries or parts. You whipped out your med kit, pulling out a large gauze pad and some tape. 

"Bell?"

Adler stirred awake on his own as you worked on him. You didn't even notice him becoming conscious until he groaned and adjusted his weight. His hand shot towards his side instinctively as you applied pressure but you slapped it away. 

"Glad to know you still care at least," he comments in amusement as you cleaned the area.

"Don’t patronize me."

A look of astonishment played on Adler’s face as you scowled at him. You just spoke to him.

As much as you wanted to argue with the guy, you slapped the gauze over his abdomen, securing it tightly with tape before bringing out your roll of bandages. It wasn't the best of treatments, so he would have to fix it up back at the safehouse.

"Are we on speaking terms again?"

"Don't make me regret my decision,” you spat. 

You couldn't stand it. The silent treatment you were giving him was already difficult to maintain with Adler always having some kind of remark or witty statement at his disposal, and your first instinct was to retort back with any insult that came to mind. 

And with that, you purposely tightened the knot of Adler's bandage, gaining a little satisfaction seeing him wince. "Ouch."

"God you never shut up, do you?"

Though, you had to admit, it felt a bit more relaxing to finally talk to him.

You moved over to Mason, giving his face a few slaps. It took a bit, but he stirred awake, his hand automatically going to touch the back of his head. "Ugh, the hell?"

"Get up, don't have much time." You pass him his rifle, pulling the lever back for him. Mason groggily got up to his feet, taking the gun out of your hands. "Woods, how's it looking out there?"

"They're making a barricade around the area. Our escape route is blocked."

"Well shit," Mason chimes in. "How long until exfil?"

Adler looks at his watch. "Five minutes. Not enough time."

"Well, we'll just have to make do, don't we?" You kick one of the downed rifles towards Adler. 

He picks it up all while maintaining a stony expression. You could tell he was resisting the urge to lecture you, but had the decency to pick his own fights. 

Adler hops right back up, even taking the time to brush himself off. "How do I look?"

"Pathetic," you remark.

"Are you two done flirting?" Mason yells from the stairwell, sticking his head through the door. 

The three of you urgently made your way down, taking a bit of a shortcut by vaulting over the railing.

"There should be a car nearby," you tell them. "Woods, meet us at the coffee shop around the corner, we'll do a drive by."

“Well you better haul ass, cause we got friends!”

Running out to the street, Adler and Mason follow your lead while keeping their weapons up. The rain showed no signs of letting up, and the police sirens were getting closer. You went to the nearest car and pulled at the door handle. "Of course it's locked," you hiss under your breath. 

You break the window using your elbow and reach in to unlock the door. Some idiot left the keys inside the car so you slid it into the ignition and revved it awake. "Get in!"

Slamming on the gas, you didn’t give them the chance to close the door as the car lurched forward. The tires screeched loudly under you, leaving marks on the pavement as you sped off. Red and blue lights flooded the darkness, and you turned the wheel sharply to avoid the building. 

“Mason, get your door open! Woods is going to be on that side!” you bark over the gunfire. You hear the rear window being pelted relentlessly, Adler and Mason ducking to avoid the bullets. He forcibly kicks the door open, but it just breaks right off and strays away as you drove down the street.

“The zone’s too hot! Woods might as well be a beehive if he tries to jump in here!” Adler exclaims while reloading. 

You dove your hands to your side, fishing out a small C4 and handing it over to him. “Try not to shoot at me this time around, will you?”

“Very funny.”

Adler uses the butt of his rifle to knock out the remaining glass from the back window. Seeing a good opportunity, he tosses the C4 out, and shoots it with perfect precision. Orange and yellow raged outward in the air, shaking the entire vehicle and causing you to swerve a bit. From the mirror, you could see a couple of police cars flip over.

The coffee shop was just a click away, and you could see Woods taking cover behind a raised flower bed made from stacked bricks. You honked the horn to let him know of your presence, and he poked his head out.

You slam on the breaks while gassing at the same time, tugging the wheel towards the left and bringing the car to a small drift. It stops in front of Woods, who dives right in while giving out a cheer.

"Nice driving, Bell!” 

And with everyone back together, you speed off into the night, leaving behind another mess once again in East Berlin. Hudson wouldn't be exactly ecstatic to hear about it, but the job was done.

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell ader x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #fanfic #oh boy just wait for the next chapter its all over for you all #abcd briefing

[buffythecomicslayer]

Second excerpt from ‘In Every Generation’

“In this scene, we join dedicated eco-warrior Frankie and dedicated lacrosse player Jake, in a bit of eco-witching in progress. This scene also introduces some backstory about who Jake is, and what's been up with the Osbourne werewolf clan in the years between.”

In Every Generation is an upcoming Buffy the Vampire Slayer novel by Kendare Blake, out January 4.

"Need some help?" Jake asked.

"Nope," Frankie said as he poked the tip of his lacrosse stick through the refuse. "And I'd get your stick out of there if you don't want it magicked."

"Magicked?"

Frankie took a deep breath. She pulled a bundle of herbs and a lighter out of her pocket and whispered,

"Consilium depurgo."

Then she lit the herbs and dropped them with a bright orange poof onto the bin of mixed recycling. A little smoke and some coughing later, and the items inside were cleaned. After that, it was just a matter of sorting them by hand.

"Frankie," Jake hissed, and blocked the smoking bin with his body. "A little discretion, maybe?"

"Calm down, nobody was looking."

"Did you even check? And does your mom know you're doing spells at school?"

"Yes," Frankie said, even though her mom most certainly did not. "Does Oz know you're playing with your stick at lunch?"

Jake made a face. He was a junior, and an athlete, and popular, yet somehow he still had enough time to constantly be on her case. He'd been that way since they were kids, when she was a tiny, budding witch and he was a less tiny werewolf following her around like she held an invisible leash.

"Did your mom teach you that spell?"

"Sort of." Her mom had taught her, but teaching only went so far when she refused to demonstrate anything. Willow Rosenberg had been powerful once. More powerful even than the slayer. But she'd stopped doing magic after Frankie was born, and when Frankie asked why, she would only say, "Because I don't need it anymore." Secretly, Frankie thought her mom hid her magic so Frankie would feel less pressure. And even so it still wasn't easy, taking her magical baby steps and stumbles with THE Willow Rosenberg watching.

"You're getting pretty good," said Jake.

"After many failures and herb burns," said Frankie, and rubbed at the memories of scorches on her hands. "So you can go back to your friends. It was just a little eco-witching, which my mom totally allows."

"Eco-witching?" Jake asked.

"Magic-tivism?" Frankie suggested. She squinted up at him in the sun of the quad, a pen and two pencils sticking out of the red bun on the back of her head. Jake smiled a little. He looked good. Better these days, than he had in a long time. It had only been a year since his parents had moved to the New Zealand werewolf commune. They'd had to go, after his older brother, Jordy, had an incident with Sunnydale Animal Control. Luckily, Jake's cousin Oz moved back to Sunnydale, so Jake didn't have to move with them.

"Are you and Oz coming over for dinner tonight?" Frankie asked.

"Are you cooking?"

"Not if you want it to be edible."

Jake snorted and stretched his broad shoulders.

"Okay," he said. "I'll make a stir-fry. Or Uncle Oz can grab veggie burgers?"

"Stop calling him your uncle. He's your cousin."

"He's too old to be my cousin."

Frankie clenched her teeth on the retort "that's not how it works, Jake" because there was a lot of math involved: Jake's brother, Jordy, who bit Oz with his first grown-up teeth and turned him into a werewolf, was ten years older than Jake. Oz was already seventeen when Jordy bit him, so that made Oz...

Frankie squinted. Old. That made Oz old. He was like a year older than her mom.

"You've got a point," she said. "There's got to be a cutoff age for cousins, and it's probably somewhere around... forty. Anyway, let's do burgers. Now, get out of here."

"Don't you still need help sorting?"

"I'll get my own help."

"How? You don't even know anyone in this lunch period." He looked around. That was an exaggeration. She knew lots of them. Or their names, anyway.

"Jake, go back to your friends. I'll see you after school." With an impish grin, she grabbed his lacrosse stick and held it up in the air. Jake's body tensed immediately and he half crouched, wolflike and ready to fetch. He was even more wolflike than Oz, who embraced his werewolf spirit and could control it, calling it forth on command, full moon or no full moon.

Frankie waved the lacrosse stick back and forth. Every time it moved, Jake twitched.

"Okay, knock it off," he said, and she handed it over. "Have I mentioned your werewolf humor never gets old?"

"Hi, Jake!"

Frankie looked over her shoulder. Jasmine Finnegan and another pretty junior girl waved to Jake, and he nodded and said,

"Hey."

"Hey, Jake," Frankie whispered. "There's one kind of magic that's always come naturally to me."

"Huh?" Jake said. "Frankie, don't—"

She fixed her eyes on the recycling bin and flicked her fingers, and the bin went sailing, spilling the contents all over the ground, right at Jasmine's and the junior girl's feet.

"Jake," Frankie fake-scolded. "You are so clumsy!"

"Oh my gosh, let us help you." Jasmine bent and immediately began picking up plastic bottles and empty cans of soda.

Frankie looked at Jake smugly. But before she could say that now she had plenty of help, what felt like a ball of cold water exploded in her gut. It hit so hard she staggered back.

"Frankie?" Jake asked.

She shivered violently as the cold spread from her stomach into her chest and down into her legs, and Jake reached out just as her world tilted and she hit the ground, jaw clenched and limbs seizing.

"Frankie, are you okay?"

"No, s-something's wrong," she stammered as he hovered over the top of her. She heard him call for help, and his face, handsome and annoying, flickered as her vision swam. The last thing she heard was herself saying, "Remember, to sort... properly..."

And then she passed out.

#buffy novels #the next generation #kendare blake #books #other media #preview #willow rosenberg #daniel oz osbourne

[balkanradfem]

So I've talked before about my burning desire to go and build a separatist tribe of women in nature, preferably in forest next to a mountain or somewhere far out so that nobody would bother us. I've been keeping on building that dream in my head, but also in many practical ways, trying to prepare myself for it. This tribe would have to function out of capitalism, off grid, without the use of money or even electricity, unless one day I figure out how to produce some. So we use only technology that is not harmful to nature and produce everything we need to survive.

It sounds so surreal, but it's not a particularly wild idea, because humans have been doing this for millenia and lived, I presume, with way less of their population depressed and suicidal. It wasn't more than 80 years ago humans lived without electrity or modern commodities, my 85yo neighbour can still remember bathing in collected rainwater and washing the clothes in the river. (Don't worry, we wont have to wash the clothes in the river, I found a way.)

So what I'm proposing is in fact, far more reasonable, climate conscious and healthy than living in capitalism, only problem is: It's less convenient.

We're to assume it's convenience that brings us comfort and happiness, but I'm about to propose a counter-argument: It's not. It's boring and makes everything very impersonal and unsatisfactory. I can tell, but only because I've been shifting into that inconvenient, more-effort-put into survival kind of life. And, it's been a very fun, weird time.

So as you can see by my posts, I've been learning to grow food and to make meals from self-grown food only, and eating feels different. It's far from impersonal when you bring a handful of seeds into life, then harvest and store and eat that; you know where this food has been. You know the food's story and it's been interlaced with your own story to the point where it's no longer something you consume, you have memories with that food. It means something to you. And, it's way, WAY harder to throw it away. You do not waste what you build up from scratch.

I've also been venturing into other self-sustaining missions, like, cleaning products and preserving resources as you would in nature, figuring out hygiene without capitalism, and this is where my life got weird. If I wanna wash my hair, I go and make tea, then wash my hair in that. Funny snippet, lemon balm tea actually darkens your hair the more you use it, people in my life now legit think my hair is black, it's not! It's brown but the herb made it so dark nobody can tell. I've since found out there are also herbs that make your hair lighter, or even give it a blue-ish glow! That is way fun. Washing hair like this is a more effort than shampoo, but I feel different about it. Proud I did that, or just happy I never have to buy a shampoo maybe.

If I wanna do laundry I'll go and cut open some conkers, since I still have a bag of unprocessed ones and they work as a detergent. If I wanna clean something I use vinegar I infused with orange peel, it smells amazing. If I need to go to the bathroom I'll skip on toilet paper and use family cloth. Now what is that? I actually heard someone on youtube say that word and researched it and found out that before toilet paper, people used rectangular strips of white cloth, to clean themselves, and they were all washed so it was reusable and wasted no resources since you could cut any old cotton shirt into strips and use it. Now a lot of people react with 'ewww' but hear me out: you don't use it for number two unless you have a washing liquid to immediately throw it into (I don't), and, do you throw away any underwear that you've used just once? They get about as filthy as that and then you put them thru boil cycle in the washing machine, they take so little space inside it's forgettable, and you can use them forever. I actually only had to buy toilet paper once, this entire year. 10/10. Also, extremely comfy and soft to use. If anyone wondered.

I also cook my food in weird ways, mostly having it wrapped in towels instead on a stove top, I rarely heat any bathroom water and either use cold or I also discovered I love heating a pot of water and just spilling it over myself instead of showering, it feels so good! It's so gentle and pleasant, showers are agressive and mean in comparison, it's like they hate you and are trying to spray you away. Water gently spilling from a pot on your body loves you and wants you to be happy and experience pleasure and love.

So I'm not trying to brag too much here but I haven't visited a grocery store in two months (figured out how to buy flour directly from the company lol) and maybe visited them 7 times this year altogether, isn't that kinda wild? And yes I'm giving myself a little star for good pandemic behaviour. I earned that. I just seem to not need stuff anymore unless they're oil and flour and maybe some salt and sugar. And it wasn't ... that hard. I mean okay, poverty and general anxiety are fueling my behaviour for sure, but it feels very much like... it's not that impossible to do without stuff, if you're crazy stubborn and don't have many alternatives.

I've also been prepairing for this life in a savage hermit hoarder type of matter; I've collected jars obsessively, stored every little produce net or bag that anyone brought to my place, I collect dumb promotional newspapers to start fires with in the future, and I can make baskets out of it, I stored every plastic cup or container ever because I can grow seedlings in those, I collected all seeds in any way available to me, I don't throw away any fabric anymore bc I can sew new things, any soft and spongy textured thing is stored to make seating space on future chairs and cushions, and I value every bit of knowledge coming my way only in regard to how it could help me survive.

I haven't figured out the medicinal side of this, or the social aspect, but at this point it feels very wrong for me to be in a city, renting out an apartment, and then living half like a little savage on the side and refusing to go to the store. I should be in my little cob house dammit, and cooking in my cauldron on top of a fire. I should be bathing in rainwater and have plants on every surface of my home. I should have soil available to grow all my food. And optimally have a big swing and a tree house and an obstacle course in the forest. I wanna drink water that I discovered in a spring or collected from rain and filtered with the coal I made. I wanna know how earthen floors feel under my bare feet.

So anyways, how many of you'd wanna join a tribe where we live in cob houses and tell stories around a fire and change our hair color with tea and presumably spill water over each other because hygiene is important? Also we never shave or care abt how our faces look and we shed the light onto downfall of capitalsm because I feel like, if we all (the population) just bought flour, oil sugar and salt, a lot of things would go down super fast.

#separatism #female separatism #prepairing for separatism #self sustaining life #eco friendly #sustainable living #anti capitalism

[hailperseusjackson]

Fanfic: hey brother

here is the hera and howzer bonding fic that nobody asked for, but refused to leave my head anyway! @milf-herasyndulla , this one is for you bestie <33

fandom: the bad batch

rating: gen

warnings: none (some minor discussions of death, but nothing explicit)

wordcount: 2k

you can also read here on ao3!

::

Hera sat with her legs tucked up to her chest, one arm across her knees, the other halfheartedly poking a stick into the fire. Hitting a spot that shifted some of the coals, she watched glowing orange sparks dance into the air, bright against the star-filled night sky.

The one good thing about this new base—the rocky outcropping had a great view.

She could hear voices and equipment being moved around in the hangar behind her, and laughter floated to her from the other side of the outcropping, where a few other Twi’leks and clones were taking a break. With her father gone on another scouting mission, she knew she should be helping her mother hand out rations and supplies inside the base. But she was sick of handing out food and blankets. She knew it was important—every little bit counted, her mother often reminded her. And it was their job to help those in need.

And Hera wanted to help. But she wanted to do it out there. She wanted to fly. Or fight, or do something besides stay in the shelter of this base.

She felt helpless. And the last time she’d felt like this—no.

She squeezed her eyes shut, blacking out the stars and the glow of Ryloth’s moons as she inhaled deeply. She wasn’t going to think about that day. But the tightness in her chest didn’t ease, and she could feel her eyes starting to burn.

In through the nose, out through the mouth, slowly. In and out, she breathed. When her shoulders felt lighter again, she opened her eyes, focusing on the first star she could pick out on the horizon.

“Hey, kid.”

Hera tried not to scowl at the familiar voice sounding behind her. Whoever said all clones sounded the same clearly hadn’t spent enough time around them. She would recognize Howzer’s low, gentle tone blindfolded.

Sure enough, when she turned her head, the clone captain was taking a seat next to her, leaning back against the wall of the outcropping. His helmet was off, and the longer curls on top of his head stirred in the slight breeze.

“Hi,” she responded, a little more sulkily than she’d meant to. She buried her chin into the crook of her arm, trying to hide her frustrated frown. Ever since the day of the attack a couple months ago, her parents were checking on her constantly. And they’d definitely told Hozwer to do the same, because he came to see how she was doing at least once a day when he wasn’t out on the front lines. And he always spoke in that gentle voice, like he was trying not to spook a wounded blurrg.

“Hungry?” Howzer asked, offering her a ration bar.

“Nope.”

“Suit yourself.” His armor creaked as he shrugged his shoulders. “More for me then.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Howzer chewing quietly beside her.

Hera sighed.

Relenting, because she actually was hungry, she said, “What kind do you have?”

“Just the boring regular ones, unfortunately. But I do have half a chocolate bar left, if you’d rather have that.”

Hera turned her eyes on him. “Really?”

Howzer gave her a little smile, the motion tugging at the scars on his jaw and chin. “Won it off Skipper in a game of Sabaac. Already took a couple bites out of it, so I hope you don’t mind.”

She shook her head and took the chocolate from Howzer’s outstretched hand. She took a bite, humming as the sweetness coated her tongue. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Sure thing, kid.”

“Don’t call me that.” When he called her kid it made her feel like he was trying to be her brother. But she didn’t need another brother. She had a brother, and he was perfect, and he was—

Gone. He was gone.

The chocolate suddenly tasted bitter in her mouth.

“Sorry, Hera,” Howzer replied, in that same, stupid quiet tone. Like if he spoke any louder he would scare her or break her or something. “Say, where’s that droid of yours? Some of the boys were saying he ran over their toes earlier for calling Y-Wings shitty ships—oh, kriff—oh, no, I mean—shoot. Uh. I meant bad ships…”

She barely heard Howzer stumble over his words. It was automatic as she said, “Needed his power cells recharged.”

“Ah, gotcha.” A pause. Then, “Hera? You all right?”

She shot to her feet, dropping the chocolate and glaring at the captain. “Stop talking to me like that! I’m so sick of everyone treating me like I’m just a little kid who can’t handle anything!”

A few nearby Twi’leks paused what they were doing to stare, but Hera didn’t care.

Howzer raised his hands in surrender, but didn’t get to his feet. “Hera—”

She pressed on, cheeks hot. “I’m sure my mom sent you up here to talk to me and make me feel better or whatever, well guess what. I’m a big girl and I can forget about what happened just like they did. No more dead brother if we don’t talk about him, right?”

Silence.

She vaguely saw Howzer wave off any onlookers, barely heard the crackling of the fire or bustle of the camp past the roaring of blood in her ears.

It was suddenly hard to breathe, which reminded her all too much of that dusty caved in cavern after her father’s last base of operation had been shelled by Seperatists. She still remembered how hoarse her voice had gotten as she’d screamed for help, screamed for her brother when she spotted one of his shoes next to a giant pile of boulders blocking an exit tunnel. Her brother had been nowhere in sight.

Hours later, after Commander Ponds’ and Captain Howzer’s units had rescued the survivors and gone through all the rubble, she’d seen the limp body of her little brother cradled in her father’s arms. When she’d heard her mother scream—a wailing, broken sound Hera had heard before on Ryloth during the war, but never from her own mother—that’s when she’d known.

Since that day, maybe four months ago now, her parents had barely uttered a word about it. It was like her brother had never existed.

“Hera.” Howzer’s voice floated to her through the haze of memories. It was that same gentle tone, but it was—clearer, somehow.

It worked. Her anger flowed away like water down a mountainside. In its place—an aching sadness.

Tears sprang to her eyes, hot and burning. She slumped back down to the ground, once again tucking her knees up and crossing her arms on top. Forehead falling against her folded arms, she started to cry.

For a moment, there was nothing except the echo of her sobs down into the canyon.

Then, Howzer placed a hand on her shoulder. He gave a comforting squeeze before letting go. “I’m not trying to replace your brother, you know,” he said quietly. “I know it might feel like it, me checking in on you and all. But I’m doing it because I care. Not because your parents are making me.”

She sniffled, wiping the back of her hand across her nose and lifting her head. “They didn’t ask you to come check on me?”

Howzer shook his head. “Nope. I’m just checking in on my friend. We are friends, right?”

Hera wiped at her tears some more, and smiled. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

“Then here.” Howzer reached over and picked up the remainder of the chocolate bar she’d dropped. He dusted it off as best he could, before giving up and breaking off the part with dirt on it. “The last little bit was inside the wrapper, so it should be fine.”

She took it gratefully, popping the last bite in her mouth, and giving Howzer a quizzical look as he opened his own mouth to eat the rest.

“What?” he shrugged. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

She giggled. He grinned back at her, eating the chocolate with only a slight grimace on his face.

For a few minutes, they sat in comfortable silence. Hera started poking at the fire with her stick again, trying to get rid of the sadness in her body through sheer force of will.

Suddenly, Howzer said, “I’ve lost brothers, too.”

Hera turned her head to look at him. He suddenly looked much older than he ever had before. The sadness on his face seemed to match the sadness she felt on the inside. She scooted back, copying his posture and leaning against the wall.

“You have a lot of brothers, though.”

One corner of his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile. But his eyes stayed fixed on the sky. “I do have a lot of brothers, yeah. But losing one doesn’t mean he’s replaced with another. We’re all different. So when I lose a brother, it hurts just as bad every time. Worse, sometimes, because I’m their captain. I’m supposed to protect them, and it hurts when I can’t.”

Hera looked up at the sky like Howzer, thinking about that. She only had one brother, and it hurt more than anything ever had before to lose him. She couldn’t imagine having to feel that kind of hurt and sorrow the way Howzer did every time one of his brothers died.

Digging into the inside pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a multicolored bracelet made of woven leather. She studied it in her palm for a moment, blinking away the memory of her mother gingerly taking it off her brother’s wrist so Hera could have it.

“Here,” she whispered, tapping his arm. “I want you to have this.”

He reached for the bracelet, then hesitated. “What is it?”

“It was my brother’s. I made it for him.”

“I—I can’t take that, Hera. It’s too important to you.”

“But you’re important to me, too,” she insisted. “My brother will live forever on our Kalikori, so I want you to have this.”

Still, Howzer hesitated. “But—why?”

Hera grabbed his hand and dropped the leather bracelet into his palm. “Because we both know what it’s like to lose a brother. This is a reminder that we still have each other. Right?”

Howzer stared at the bracelet, then at her. She swore she saw tears shining in his eyes as he smiled at her. “Right.”

She helped him secure the bracelet below the armor plate on his forearm, where it would stay safe.

Hera leaned her head against Howzer’s shoulder. “Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Apology accepted. And I’m sorry, too—I need to be better about reminding myself that just because you’re a kid doesn’t mean you can’t handle yourself.”

“You know what would really make it up to me?”

“Hm?”

She tilted her chin up at him, grinning. “Taking me flying.”

Howzer chuckled. “Oh, absolutely not. Your parents didn’t send me to come talk to you, but they would most certainly have my shebs for that.”

“Ugh, fine.” She jutted out her bottom lip in a pout.

“Maybe one day, vod’ika,” he promised. Hera wasn’t sure what that last word meant, but it sounded nice.

“I’m gonna be the best pilot in the whole galaxy one day,” she told him earnestly, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

“I bet you will, kid.”

This time, she didn’t bother correcting him when he called her kid.

Maybe, if Howzer could have more than one brother, she could too.

#my writing #my fic #i just think they'd be besties okay #hera syndulla #captain howzer #tbb #swr #fanfic #writing #star wars