naushtheaspiringauthor

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Words cannot describe how much I loved reading this!!!!

Purgatory

summary: While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 6.5k warnings: dissociative episode, PTSD symptoms, winter soldier!bucky is clingy and protective af a/n: this is based off a request I got ages ago from @visitneptune. It's not letting me tag you hun, so I hope you still see this!

Bucky stood at the mouth of the jet; the wind rustling violently around him, eager to knock him off his stance, to instill doubt into his body though it was made of stone. His left hand gripped to the handle on the wall; metal seared to metal, crystalline marble. Several hundred feet below laid the ruins of an old Hydra base; its walls coated in graffiti, the foundation left to weather, the hinges to rust. It held his empty stare.

“You sure you’re up for this?” you asked him softly under the roar of the wind. A particularly grueling gust swept through the bridge and you gripped the strap on the back of Bucky’s jacket for support. He was unwavering in its path, though he seemed to soften at your touch. He turned to you then, pressed out a weak smile and nodded.

You released your hold on his jacket, smoothing down the harness with a quick brush against his spine. He shivered as your fingertips grazed over the dip in his back and you bit your lip between your teeth. When you looked up at him again, you tried to force out a smile for him in return, but found the light would not touch your eyes.

The rush of adrenaline was still spiked high in your veins from the last time you heard Bucky scream – the agonizing break in his voice as he desperately clawed himself from the edge of nightmares Hydra had left behind. You could still see the sweat on his forehead, the rapid breaths in his chest, the fresh reflective tracks on his cheeks. You could feel him trembling in your arms, his hands begging for purchase around your body, his repetitive whispers against your neck.

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

But Bucky was desperate for absolution. He had it in his mind that the only way to atone for the violence he’d done under Hydra’s thumb was to settle the score. To make amends. To undo the carnage he’d once created with every Hydra base he dismantled. He never allowed himself to acknowledge the steel toed boot that had been pressed to his neck, forcing his hand, controlling his mind, suffocating his will. He sought forgiveness for the crimes of his captors. He would not consider that his body was merely the weapon at their disposal.

He wasn’t new to missions where Hydra was at play, but he was often only able to hold it together long enough to wash the blood down the drain before the weight of it split through the cracks. You’d find him curled up on the floor of the shower, rubbing his skin raw in attempt to wash out the red stained to his hands. He wouldn’t speak a word until morning came, wouldn’t sleep for a second. But he’d allow you to hold him, to soothe a hand over his hair, to rest his head against your heart.

You never talked about it. Never named the lingering tension in the room when he crawled out from under your sheets, shamed seeped into his veins. This silent and impenetrable bond you shared. The knowledge that you could pull him from the darkest corners of his mind. That you were a safe place even when he felt the walls were crumbling around him. You never spoke of it, but it remained.

“Nat and I will head to the control room while Sam keeps the jet in the air,” Steve said, a single hand on his hip. The other gripped at the ropes to keep himself steady in face of the wind. He clenched his jaw, a reluctant look upon his face as he turned to Bucky. “Buck, I need you on the lookout for their lab. It’s not marked on the blueprints but if anyone can find it...”

Bucky nodded. No one knew for sure if this was one of the bases he’d been held in as the Winter Soldier, but you supposed it didn’t matter. They all held the same trauma, the same reminders of the horrors he’d faced. The muscle memory alone to step foot in a building where he’d been conditioned down to his bones was an act of violence within itself.

“Y/n, I want you with him,” Steve added, a knowing look shared between you. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Bucky. He was afraid for him the way you were; wanting to protect him from a world that had caused him so much pain. It was a need the both of you shared.

“What’s in this lab anyway?” you asked, changing the subject as you watched Bucky avert his gaze, pink burning in his ears.

“Samples of a pathogen Bruce thinks he can make a vaccine for,” Natasha said as she clipped her gun into the holster on her thigh.

“And they’re entrusting us to return it safely?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nat has experience with this stuff,” Steve explained. “She’ll take care of it. Just signal on the coms when you find it. The base is empty. We’re not going to run into enemy fire.”

Your gaze flickered to Bucky. His back was to the group, his focus staring down at the abandoned Hydra base below. The metal handle had warped under his grip, outlining the shape of his fingers in smooth ridges along the surface.

You wondered then if it mattered whether the base was occupied at all; if the nightmares could still seep through the cracks in the walls and cause damage all on their own.

***

The door was lined with rust. Red and orange and oozing from the hinges. Bucky stared at the knob, his grip readjusting on his rifle. Steve and Natasha had already taken the north entrance, leaving Sam hovering above in the jet for a quick exit. You and Bucky remained at the south entrance. You watched him carefully, studying the tension in his shoulders, the reflection of gold weaving delicately along his left arm as the metal plates flexed. He was so still you wondered if he was even breathing.

“Bucky?” you called, setting a hand on his forearm. You walked out ahead of him, trying to meet his eye. The contact usually grounded him when he could not hear your voice through the mess inside his head, the numbness. You brushed your thumb gingerly along the vibranium edges. “Are you with me?”

He nodded, shaking himself out of the trance he had fallen into. “Sorry. Just need a moment.”

He looked as though he needed more than just a moment. A lifetime, perhaps, before he would ever be able to set foot in a Hydra base without some remnants of his own trauma clawing at the back of his neck, sinking talons into his muscle and yanking him to the depths.

“No one would blame you if you wanted to sit this one out,” you told him sincerely, eyeing the quinjet hovering over your heads. “I could get Sam to come down and—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped, yanking his arm away from your hold. It startled you enough to step back a few paces, your hands burning as heat rushed to your cheeks. But as quick as it came, the sudden hardness of his features washed away when he noticed the hurt upon your face. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” Bucky sighed, dropping his head. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied quietly, taking another step back to give him space. He glanced towards you, an unreadable expression in his features, though it made you wonder whether the space had been a relief for him at all. He clenched his jaw, turning back to the rusted door. He kicked hit boot to the weakest spot in the frame, near the hinges, and the door slammed to the ground. Broken entirely from the walls around it. Dust smoked up from the floor from where it crashed to the cement and exposed a dark, windowless hall behind it.

“Maybe we can watch that series you’ve been wanting to show me when we get home?” Bucky offered softly, inching closer to you as if the space between you was too much to bear. He pushed out a smile; one you knew took most of his effort to produce in witness to the building that could have been the one to rip him to pieces. It touched his eyes, left lines in its wake. It was beautiful.

“Deal,” you grinned, nudging his side until he started to laugh. The meaning of such a sound amongst the horrors of these halls was not lost on you. It echoed through the corridors and touched the cobwebs hanging in the corner. Its ghosts may have been the ones to hear his screams once.

Bucky took the lead. Even amongst the baron halls, he positioned himself as a shield between you and the darkness ahead. His wide frame took up most of the narrow hallway, his stance cautious to keep you protected at his back. Every so often, his ear flexed at the sound of your steady breathing, the shuffle of your shoes over the debris upon the floors. It was like he was fighting the urge to turn over his shoulder once more to confirm with his own eyes that you were safe behind him. He continued on, deeper into the darkness as fingers flexed against his rifle; his steps undetectable.

You passed by dozens of emptied rooms with dark stains upon the concrete and shackles molded to the wall. Bucky didn’t speak as his gaze trailed along the reinforced cells and the ghosts they carried. Tension etched into his muscle the further he walked.

A shiver burrowed into your spine as you kept your pace close to Bucky’s stride – close enough that you brushed against his shoulder blades every so often. It had been a comfort at first, drawing away the stone in his spine, but then after a while he began to bristle at the contact, almost as if he’d forgotten you were behind him, before he eased again, relaxing into your touch.

You’d been walking through the maze of hallways for nearly ten minutes before either of you spoke.

“Do you recognize this place?” you asked cautiously when Bucky took a right turn down an adjoining hall. He hadn’t even stopped to consider his path. It was as if he were following a memory.

He shook his head, a contemplative look on his face. Still, his attention turned down the corridor like he was being drawn towards it. He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But something’s telling me to go this way.”

You didn’t question whether it was the lab beckoning him or something else, something more dangerous. Instead, you set a comforting hand on his forearm and gave a short squeeze. A pained smile pressed on his lips as he stared down at your hand, how your thumb so sweetly ran along the thick material of his jacket. When you released him, he took in a heavy breath and continued on.

You followed him in silence until you neared the end of the hall. The lighting became progressively dimmer, the bulbs flickering in their disuse. Bugs scrawled along the edges of the walls, scampering through piles of dust and dirt. You held back a shiver as you kept as close to Bucky as you could.

It was as if the walls themselves were molding his body to marble with every step further into their maze. His back tightened, his spine straightened. His breathing became shallow to the point you could no longer hear his careful inhales. But something in him relaxed despite the tension in his body. You were about to call his name when suddenly, he turned sharply into an open room.

The door was lined in dozens of steel bolts and reinforced locks. It looked to be in pristine condition in comparison to the rest of the building. From a short glance inside, it was evident that this room was not the lab Steve sent you in search of. It was lined with cement, void of any furniture, let alone laboratory equipment. It was completely empty, save for the shackles fused into the furthest wall.

It was a cell.

You furrowed your brows as you followed Bucky into the baron room. He didn’t look around, didn’t so much as turn in your direction. Instead, he stilled at the center of the room, his back to you. You swallowed, though it tasted of copper.

“Bucky?” you called nervously. “What are we doing in here?"

As you stepped further into the room, you noticed the dent on the inside of the door. Heart pounding violently in your chest, you reached out and touched the caved in metal, drawing your fingers along the perfect imprint of a fist. No one else could have had the strength to cause that kind of damage except—

“Bucky?” you tried again, panic starting to lace into your voice. He was standing too still, too quiet. He didn’t so much as move a single muscle at the sound of his own name. His posture was too rigid, too formal. It reminded you of— oh God.

You took a single step towards him, the heel of your boot softly tapping to the concrete and suddenly, Bucky whipped around to face you. His expression was cold; void of the man you knew him to be; absent of the smile you drew out of him on the edge of this dreadful building. In one fluid movement, he raised the barrel of his rifle and unlatched the safety. There was no time to panic, no time to call his name, to so much as raise your hands in defense.

He fired.

Eyes screwed shut, lungs burning. There was a deafening ringing in your ears, pulsing deep into the back of your head, obstructing your balance. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find Bucky lowering his rifle to his side, the same vacant look in his expression staring at something beyond your shoulder.

“--company!” Steve’s voice suddenly cracked through the coms. “We’ve got company!”

You followed Bucky’s vacant stare to the body currently lying in the hallway. A man laid upon the threshold to the room, a shotgun in hand and a Hydra insignia affixed to his lapel. Blood pooled into the concrete, inching along the floor towards you. You hadn’t even known he was there, that he was just seconds away from firing a shot to the back of your head. The man’s finger was still curled around the trigger. You inched closer to Bucky.

“Y/n? Bucky? Someone report!”

Your gaze trailed over Bucky’s frame as he remained impossibly still. Not even his breaths seemed to rise against his chest. His stare was etched to the door, his eyes absent of the fear he once carried in these halls. They were coated in something darker – an oncoming of stormy skies masked under an ominous grey fog. Obstructing him. Confining him. A terrifying state of peace within the submission. Bite nestled to your tongue and you swallowed it—the burn of acid dripping down your throat.

“Bucky?” you begged, desperate to believe this place hadn’t undone him down to his bones. He didn’t so much as blink. You gritted your teeth, jaw clenched so tightly it began to ache and you forced out a name you swore you would never utter aloud—

“Soldat...?”

It was barely a whisper, the most you could possibly manage, and still— Bucky’s gaze flickered to you. When vacant, blue eyes met yours, you bit down hard enough to draw blood, your hand trembling as you reached up and touched the warm coat of blood against your lip. He furrowed his brow, studying your reaction and the utter desolation painted over your features.

“If you don’t respond, I’m coming to get you!” Steve warned through the coms. His voice pulled you away from the fog threatening to consume you whole as you stared at the shell Bucky had slipped into. Steve was panting, out of breath, a grunt through the speakers as a heavy thud fell to the floor.

Tears burned in your eyes as you cleared your throat, raising a finger to your coms.

“We’re okay,” you said slowly, not daring to take your eyes off Bucky for even a second. “We’re safe but... something happened, Steve. Bucky’s not himself.”

There was only a short pause. One where Bucky’s eyes centered on you, trailing over your frame as it were for the first time. They slid down the line of your suit, over your thighs to your boots, then back up along your hips to your arms. They lingered over a faded bruise on your cheekbone – one you’d sustained in a mission in the previous week against a rather unpleasant arms dealer in Slovakia. The muscle in his jaw flexed, his hands curled tight into fists.

Slowly, his eyes returned to yours. They didn’t carry the weight you recognized, the years filled with shame and guilt and burden, but they held a heaviness nonetheless. Deep blue as the depths of the ocean, coated in such darkness the sunlight could not hope to reach. They were the eyes of a man who knew what it was to be punished for disobeying orders, who recognized those who had caused him harm, who could identify those who would keep him safe.

The Soldier was not an empty shell. He was not simply a weapon for Hydra to dispose. He was living and breathing and impossibly real. Stripped down to the very threads that kept him human. Removed of his memories, of his past. Tortured for his mistakes. Kept in a cage like an animal. Taught to be silent, to expect fear, to follow orders.

This was not the Winter Soldier as you remembered him on the bridge, in the sky above D.C., in Vienna. Humanity was slipping through; though it was small, subtle. It was only when his gaze flickered briefly back to the bruise on your cheek and his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be rage, that you realized what had happened.

The man before you was the broken shards of who Bucky had been inside this cell – somewhere between the Winter Soldier and the prisoner of war. Too far gone from the Sergeant who held out as long as he could and miles away from the Bucky who turned on the kettle for you in the morning before you woke up, who indulged your ridiculous list of must-watch movies, who curled against you in the middle of the night when the monsters plagued his dreams.

A purgatory within his own mind.

“Y/n!” Steve called panicked through the coms. “Get out of there! We don’t know what he could do if he—”

“I don’t think he’ll hurt me, Steve,” you replied evenly, holding Bucky’s gaze. “He shot a Hydra agent before I even knew they were there. He saved my life.”

Bucky’s attention snapped to the door, his hand flexing against his rifle. You followed his eye line, unsure of what he must have heard, but with his advanced senses you knew better than to question him.

Slowly, he stepped out in front of you, holding an arm behind him to keep you centered behind his back. Your heart fractured as you realized he was shielding you. Even stripped down to basic instinct, muddled by the horrors of what Hydra had inflicted upon him, he still chose to protect you.

“Get him back to the jet,” Steve ordered, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice, even as he engaged in direct combat with enemy agents. “We’ll secure him there. Be careful.”

You nodded, trying to gather your courage though it felt impossibly far away. You were about to reach for Bucky’s forearm when you stopped yourself, quickly yanking your hand back against your chest and you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t your Bucky. You had no idea how the Winter Soldier would react to such an intrusion, especially given what you remembered about how Bucky first responded to touch – how he’d flinch away from it as if he’d been expecting pain. The Soldier didn’t know to expect anything less.

“Soldat,” you called firmly, mimicking the tone of the Soldier’s handlers. He straightened his spine, turning his head to you, awaiting orders. You inhaled a shaken breath, struggling to meet his eye. “I need you to get us out of here. Both of us. Do you understand?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at your emphasis, though slowly he nodded. You had no idea how many Hydra agents crawled out from behind the woodwork or what to expect when you stepped into the hallway. But the Soldier needed a mission. He needed orders to follow. You weren’t sure whether he would go willingly without them.

Bucky eased out into the hall, a cautious glance behind his shoulder as if to make sure you were following close behind. You gave him a short nod and he turned back to the end of the hall; his rifle gripped tight to his grasp. You attempted to peer around his shoulder to get better leverage and provide coverage, but then—

An arm snaked around your neck, clamped down against your windpipe and yanked you backwards. You gasped for breath – the strangled sound alerting Bucky to your distress as you desperately clawed at the arm around your neck, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Bucky whipped around, rage quickly burning as the blue in his eyes reduced in thin, cerulean rings. You met his gaze, air obstructed as you choked against the man’s grip, and still – you saw a world of panic breaking through the cold exterior of the Winter Soldier.

You quickly elbowed the assailant in the ribs and he released your throat, doubling over in pain. It was enough time for Bucky to fire a single shot once you ducked clear out of view, sinking to the ground as your hands darted at your throat in search of air. You only vaguely recognized the sound of the body thudding behind you as you began to cough violently, blood spilling from your lips.

“You’re hurt,” Bucky murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. He was kneeling at your eye line, his brows furrowed and drawing worry lines over his forehead. His voice didn’t sound his like his own – too hesitant, too quiet. Longing and terrified and filled with unbridled rage all at once.

“M’okay,” you choked out, though your voice was rough, as if it has been tossed through a blender and dragged over sandpaper until it bled.

Bucky’s hand reached out to you, gently pushing the hair away from your eyes with the lightest feather of a touch. You stilled as the very tips of his fingers grazed gently over your skin, watching him as he studied the markings on your neck. An impossible moment amongst the chaos in the distance. The humanity of the Winter Soldier breaking through. His upper lip twitched as his fingers touched the discoloration on your neck. His jaw wired shut, a twitch in his upper lip, and suddenly, a weapon was in his hand again. He fired another four shots into the dead body on your right.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” you told him, gathering his face in your hands, urging him to meet your eye. You drew your thumbs along his cheekbones until he finally forced his gaze back to you. He was breathing heavy, the rage spilling through the cracks in his surface until you said again, “I’m okay.”

A wash of relief coated his features for only a moment. Then, he nodded, almost as if to shake himself of the emotion he was not allowed to express. The lines on his face faded into the façade, the stone cold expression returning and wiping away the traces of the man underneath. Without saying a word, he stood back to his feet and waited patiently for you to follow.

By the time you made it outside, Steve and Natasha were standing by the mouth of the quinjet, weapons at the ready. They were both covered in open cuts and bruises, red seeping into their uniforms and coloring their skin. Natasha was leaning against the edge of the ramp, barely holding herself up, though she started to relax upon spotting you.

Bucky froze at the sight of their weapons and you collided into his back. He pulled out his gun.

“No! Stop!” You rushed out in front of him, holding your hands up defensively. “They’re friends! They won’t hurt us.”

You stared down the barrel of his rifle, counting each agonizing heartbeat as you waited for him to lower his weapon. You didn't know why, but the Soldier was drawn to you, connected to you in some way that he protected you without a second thought. It was his mission. His only directive. It wasn’t one you’d given him, but still—it remained.

His eyes flickered to you, unsure. You gave him a gentle reassuring nod and slowly, Bucky lowered the gun.

“Y/n?” Steve called hesitantly.

“I’ve got him, Steve,” you replied over your shoulder. “He’s okay.”

“He’s—”

“He’s not triggered, not like you think,” you explained as calmly as you could manage. You could sense Bucky eyeing Steve, his hand flexing against his weapon, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to believe Steve was someone you needed protection from. “I don’t know what happened, but one minute he’s Bucky and the next he’s...” You sighed, glancing back at Bucky’s rigid posture. “Something in that base fractured him; awoke this part of him again. It’s a defense mechanism. He’ll come out of it, Steve. Give him time.”

Steve's gaze flickered to Bucky before returning to you. “Last time you met the Winter Soldier, he almost killed you.”

Triggered under Zemo’s twisted plan to draw a line between the Avengers, Bucky had once shot a bullet clean through your stomach. You could still picture the cold look in his eyes as he stood over you, readying for the kill shot as you laid frozen on the floor in a pool of your own blood. You’d never felt fear quite like that – the certain knowledge that you would not survive. If it hadn’t been for Tony’s intervention, you would have been dead.

It was before you knew Bucky. Before you loved him.

Maybe you were naïve, but something had changed in the Soldier since then. Perhaps, the same thing that changed in Bucky.

“I’ll be alright, Steve. He won’t hurt me.” You eased your hand in Bucky’s direction, urging him to holster his weapon. He did and you hoped it was because he trusted you, not because he saw you as his handler. You sighed, turning to Steve. “I’ll take care of him. Just trust me with this. Please.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “But I have to secure him. For everyone’s safety, including his.”

"Let me,” you offered quickly, unsure of how Bucky would react to Steve trying to restrain him. “He’ll take it better if I do it.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

No. You weren’t sure of anything; not with Bucky locked in this state. But you told him you were anyway.

“Soldat,” you called, turning away from the flash of surprise on Steve’s face as you turned to Bucky. “Follow me.”

You turned up the bridge of the jet, walking past Natasha and keeping your gaze straight ahead. You didn’t want to see whether she was disappointed with you for feeding into Hydra’s conditioning to keep Bucky compliant. You were only trying to keep him safe, to get him through this in one piece. He’d come out of it eventually. You kept telling yourself that, though you were never entirely convinced.

Bucky hovered behind you, keeping close despite the wide berth of the jet. You gestured to a seat along the side wall of the plane and Bucky sat down. You knelt down beside him, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs from under the seat. The team kept them on hand for the varying occasion when they needed to restrain enhanced individuals or Norse Gods. They’d work on Bucky, too.

“I’m going to put these on you, okay?” you told him, watching for any resistance. But Bucky didn’t move. He only watched you, following the metallic flicker of the handcuffs as you gently fastened them to his wrists. The center affixed to a chain connected to the floor of the plane. He didn’t move a single muscle.

You sighed, brushing at your eyes as you crawled up to sit in the seat beside him. You never wanted to see him in chains, never wanted to be the one to secure the metal around his wrists, but there was a trust within it. A trust that you would undo the locks, that you would protect him while he was vulnerable to attack the same way he protected you. But you couldn’t read Bucky when he was like this. You had no idea what he was thinking. If he was thinking anything at all.

“What about the mask?”

You blinked, thrown by his voice. Rough, unused. Unsure. He was watching you curiously, studying the stunned look of disbelief on your face, and you quickly shook your head.

“No mask,” you said simply, though you could feel the lump building in your throat. It was more of a muzzle than anything else – used to silence him, to humiliate him, to make him feel like a weapon of their own making and destroy any last thread of humanity he was clinging to. You could barely picture it without tears blurring your vision.

“Just try to relax, okay?” you told him. “We’ll be home soon.”

He raised an eyebrow at the mention of home, but your heart was too broken to explain any further. He didn’t ask. You supposed he was trained not to.

***

By the time you landed hours later, Bucky still wasn’t himself. Sam was the one to reluctantly suggest you bring Bucky to a holding cell until he came to again, but you feared that would only make it worse. It was a cell that triggered this state, you didn’t expect a cell would bring him out of it.

Steve and Natasha landed the jet away from most of the crew so you could guide Bucky away from the crowd without anyone noticing the handcuffs on his wrists. Steve threw a jacket over Bucky’s hands to hide the restraints and gave you the key.

“You call me the second it turns bad,” he ordered, a cautious look thrown in Bucky’s direction.

You nodded and reached out to squeeze Steve’s hand. He sighed at that, the tension coursing painfully through his body. “It won’t, Steve. But I promise I’ll call if I need you.”

Steve didn’t seem any more convinced but you could see the longing for hope in his eyes; how badly he wanted to believe you, how badly he wanted his friend back. He gave you a tight smile and nodded, stepping back.

“Come with me,” you told Bucky and he followed without question, trailing behind submissively and it left an awful pang in your stomach. As you stepped down onto the loading bay, you moved to walk in line with him. “I don’t know how much you recognize but no one here is an enemy, okay? We’re safe. I promise I’ll remove the cuffs once we’re out of sight.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but you could see his eyes flickering to the sparse agents he passed by as if he were sizing them up, deciding how best to engage with his hands bound. He watched your every move, flinched as a head popped up in your direction as you approached, winced as your name was called in greeting from across the hall, shivered under the steady blow of the air conditioning above. He was on constant edge.

“Oh, hey guys!” Scott Lang jumped out from the elevator before you could press the button. Bucky jolted to step in front of you, blocking you from the perceived enemy who was likely the least dangerous man in the compound. Scott still had Cheeto dust on his fingers.

“Ah, I get it, I get it,” Scott laughed, hands raised in the air playfully as he backed up. “I’m happily in a relationship, my man. Hope may be way out of my league but I’m still in it, okay? You don’t have to worry about me snatching up your girl.”

You smiled, setting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder blades and easing your fingers down his spine. It was something you did for him to help him calm down when you didn’t want to draw attention to his distress. You hoped it might work on the Soldier, too. Sure enough, he began to relax. You stepped out from behind Bucky.

“Don’t mind him,” you told Scott with a casual shrug. “He’s just a bit on guard. Rough mission.”

Scott nodded in understanding, his lips pressing to thin line. “Totally get it. My bad, man. But hey! I’ll see you for poker on Saturday, right?”

“He’ll be there,” you replied, answering for Bucky whose gaze looked as though he could pierce daggers straight through Lang’s chest. You guided Bucky in the elevator and quickly tapped on your floor, hitting the button several times until the doors eventually closed. Once you were alone, you slumped against the wall and released a heavy sigh.

When the floor dinged, you straightened to find Bucky watching you. You were sure whether it was curiosity or concern in his eyes as they followed you into the hall.

“The team knows to leave this floor alone until I give them the okay,” you said, gesturing for Bucky’s hands. He held them up for you and you removed Steve’s jacket and tossed it to the couch. Then, you unlocked each of the cuffs and set them on the table.

Bucky rubbed his hand over the reddened skin on his right wrist. You winced at the burn mark.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I closed them that tight.” You reached for him and you were surprised when he didn’t pull away. He allowed you to take his hand in yours, soothing the cool press of your palms against the irritated skin. He closed his eyes, sighing at the touch.

“Come on.” You eased Bucky to the couch, though you did not lose contact with his wrist. You sat down, sinking into the cushions and gently tugged him down beside you. He was uncomfortable, a little out of place, but you hoped the familiarity might be enough to sink in.

His posture was rigid beside you as you turned on the television and began to search for one of his favorite movies. You were so used to Bucky sliding in next to you, closing the gaps between you without ever acknowledging the comfort of laying in each other’s arms. Now, he sat with his back straight, his hands planted firmly in his lap. He looked as though he didn’t know what to do with the deep-set cushions and the pillows surrounding him.

Bucky looked around, his eyes skirting over the furniture, the television, the window view of the lake down the way, and then—to you. He paused, his features softening.

“I know you, don’t I?”

You clenched your jaw, fighting tears. You nodded.

“I know this place,” he continued, his voice a quiet whisper, as if he was worried who might overhear. “These people, too.”

“Yes, you do,” you confirmed gently. Panic began to wash over his features and you inched closer to him, setting your hand on his forearm. “It will come back to you, Bucky. I promise. Give it some time. I’ll be here when it does.”

His eyes drew down to where you touched him, where your hand gently squeezed his forearm, your thumb brushing tenderly over the lining of his jacket. He watched you as if you’d never done that before, like he’d never experience such kindness in a touch.

***

It wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down and the room coated in the comforting tones of the stars and moonlight beyond the window, the flash of the television illuminating the kitchen behind you, that Bucky finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

You jolted up from your position, your cheek imprinted with the lines of his jacket. You hadn’t realized how close you were to nodding off, how much you’d leaned against his body and relied on his comfort, even in this state. But something was different as he wrung his hands in his lap, twisting around metal fingers and reddening the skin of his right hand.

Bucky swallowed nervously, lowering his head. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He was expecting you to withdrawal, to be angry for the burden he’d placed upon you, but instead, all you could feel was relief. You threw yourself into his arms, burying your face to the crook of his neck. He held his arms out to the side, as if he were unsure if his own touch was wanted, until slowly, he allowed himself to hold you.

“Are you okay?” you asked against his collar, unable to pull away for even a moment.

Bucky sighed. “As okay as I can be, I suppose.”

You swallowed nervously. “How much do you remember?”

“All of it.”

You stilled; breath caught in your chest. Memory of the dehumanizing name still present on your tongue. “I’m sorry that I—that I called you—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky eased, his breath warm to the crown of your head. “You did what you had to. You got me out. I could have... I could have hurt you.”

“No,” you shook your head, determined. “You saved me, Bucky. Hell, you even tried to protect me from Scott. All you did was protect me.”

Bucky nodded, a flicker of realization in his eyes. “I guess even in that state I knew.”

“Knew what?” you asked, looking up at him.

Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “That I could trust you with my life. That I would always protect you with it, too.”

You smiled at him, easing your hand against his cheek. Your thumb brushed sweetly over his cheekbone, your palm against the stubble on his jaw. Even as darkness clouded over him, even when he was lost to the confines of his own mind – he would find he way back to you.

He’d come home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Tysm for the tag Jules!!

Last song- Achilles come down by gang of youths

Favourite colour - navy blue

Last book- Five Survive by holly jackson

Last tv show- the good doctor

Last movie- don't move

Sweet/spicy/savoury- depends on my mood really

Last thing I searched - oil and fat containing food items are flushed with nitrogen why

Current obsession - the good doctor, arcane season 2 and all its tracks and waiting on Spotify wrapped

Looking forward to - getting to see my favorite person tomorrow

Tags- @sirisuorionblack @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @creatorbiaze @marauders-wife

@maggot-baggage thanks for tagging my 🥰

Last song

Elissa-masdoumah

Fav color

black and emerald green and gold deep red

Last book

the communist manifesto

Last movie

the wild robot didn't like it 😑

Last tv show

gangnam b-side meh i still have the last two episodes to watch and I'm thinking about dropping it.

Sweet/spicy/savory

all of them

Relationship status

single.

Last thing i searched

trying to log in my Twitter account .

Current obsession

I'm playing god of war, and I'm really enjoying my time with it, and I'm obsessed with freya.

Looking forward to

I'm playing god of war ragnarok, and I'm very excited about how the story will develop and where they are going to take Kratos and Atreus and freya story.

♡Tagging♡

@turian @rhubarbspring @socalgal @theedgeofforever @dirhwangdaseul @xenomorphique @halalgirlmeg @mina-kami @eggpngg @murnauk @divineandmajesticinone @jiniyad @kokorotoro @sourdieseldyke @wyndryga @userpeggycarter @captainsaltymuyfancy @tiredtwstoutt @gabajoofs @socalgal @neptunerings @timetravellingkitty @kahin @jezior0 @brokenbackmountain @buttercuparry @mysweetsageofgrace @roberteospeedwagon @transmutationisms @vampirevoice @girlinafairytale @jehadism

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

The 7 Faces of Friendship: Character Types to Include in Your Book’s Friend Group

Having a balance of different personas helps create a comprehensive cast for your novels. To get started, here are the 7 main friend personas to consider:

1. The Leader

Description:

The leader is the driving force behind the group. They are often assertive, confident, and willing to take charge in various situations. This person is typically seen as a decision-maker, guiding the group toward plans, activities, or goals.

Traits:

Charismatic: Naturally draws people in and inspires others.

Decisive: Quick to make decisions, often with a clear vision in mind.

Responsible: Takes ownership of the group's well-being and direction.

Role in the Group:

The leader often organises outings, mediates conflicts, and keeps the group focused on shared goals. They are instrumental in making plans and ensuring that everyone feels included.

2. The Caregiver

Description:

The caregiver is the heart of the friend group, always looking out for others. This person is empathetic, nurturing, and willing to lend a helping hand or an understanding ear.

Traits:

Compassionate: Deeply cares for the feelings and well-being of others.

Supportive: Always ready to offer encouragement or assistance.

Attentive: Notices when someone is feeling down or needs help.

Role in the Group:

The caregiver often acts as the emotional glue, fostering connections and ensuring everyone feels valued. They are typically the ones organising gatherings to celebrate friends or supporting them through tough times.

3. The Comedian

Description:

The comedian is the life of the party, always ready with a joke or a funny story. This character brings humour and lightness to the group, helping to relieve tension and elevate the mood.

Traits:

Witty: Quick with humour and often makes clever observations.

Playful: Approaches life with a sense of fun and spontaneity.

Positive: Maintains an optimistic outlook, even in challenging situations.

Role in the Group:

The comedian keeps the atmosphere lively, ensuring that laughter is a common thread in the group. They often defuse tense situations with humour and help create cherished memories through fun experiences.

4. The Adventurer

Description:

The adventurer thrives on new experiences and excitement. This character is always seeking thrills, whether that’s trying out a new restaurant, going on spontaneous trips, or participating in extreme sports.

Traits:

Daring: Enjoys taking risks and stepping outside of their comfort zone.

Curious: Eager to explore new ideas, places, and experiences.

Energetic: Brings enthusiasm to the group, often encouraging others to join in.

Role in the Group:

The adventurer often leads the charge for new experiences, pushing the group to try things they might not have considered. They inspire others to embrace spontaneity and explore the world together. Often contradicts the leader.

5. The Intellectual

Description:

The intellectual is the thinker of the group, often delving into deep conversations and pondering life's big questions. This character values knowledge and is well-read, informed, and curious about various topics.

Traits:

Analytical: Enjoys breaking down complex ideas and analysing situations.

Inquisitive: Asks questions and seeks to understand the world.

Articulate: Communicates thoughts clearly and effectively.

Role in the Group:

The intellectual can help stimulate meaningful conversations, adding depth to the group's interactions. More of a quiet yet important presence. They help get the Adventurer out of trouble, and are likely found bantering with the Comedian from time to time.

6. The Connector

Description:

The connector is the social butterfly of the group, adept at bringing people together and building relationships. This character thrives on interaction and often knows everyone’s stories, interests, and backgrounds.

Traits:

Sociable: Enjoys meeting new people and introducing friends to one another.

Empathetic: Understands social dynamics and helps others feel comfortable.

Resourceful: Knows where to go for recommendations and suggestions.

Role in the Group:

The connector enriches the group by fostering relationships and creating opportunities for social gatherings. They often organise events and help deepen bonds within the friend circle. They are generally close to the  Caregiven and the Leader’s partner/close friend.  They help the Leader and Intellectual settle on ideas that are both fun and functional thus appeasing to the whole group. 

7. The Realist

Description:

The realist is grounded and practical, providing a balanced perspective within the friend group. This character approaches situations with a level-headed attitude and often focuses on the facts at hand.

Note: While the intellectual is an inherently smart person, the realist is the apathetic and logical force of the group. They don’t have to necessarily be smart but are insightful.

Traits:

Pragmatic: Values practicality and often offers sensible solutions.

Sceptical: Questions overly optimistic or unrealistic plans.

Honest: Tends to speak their mind, even when the truth is uncomfortable.

Role in the Group:

The realist often acts as a counterbalance to more idealistic characters, helping the group assess risks and make informed decisions. They provide a sense of stability, ensuring that plans are not just fun but also feasible.

Edit: you don't NEED to have 7 friends each with one persona. You also don't need to have all 7. One person can be the caregiver to A and realist to B. They can be the leader in one friend group but the comedian in another (showcasing their comfort with the latter). This is just a list to help pan out your character personality types!

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Writing Notes: Stages of Decomposition

The decomposition process occurs in several stages following death:

Pallor mortis

Algor mortis

Rigor mortis

Cadaveric spasm

Lividity

Putrefaction

Decomposition

Skeletonization

PALLOR MORTIS

The first stage of death.

Occurs once blood stops circulating in the body.

The cessation of an oxygenated blood flow to the capillaries beneath the skin causes the deceased to pale in appearance.

In non-Caucasians, the pallor may appear to develop an unusual hue; the skin will lose any natural lustre and appears more waxen.

Occurs quite quickly, within about 10 minutes after death.

ALGOR MORTIS

The cooling of the body after death.

The cooling process will be influenced by many factors, including the deceased’s clothing, or whether they are covered with bed linen such as blankets or duvets.

The body will typically cool to the ambient room temperature, but this alters if there is heating in the room or if there is a constant draught cooling the body.

RIGOR MORTIS

Can occur between 2 and 6 hours after death.

Factors including temperature can greatly affect this.

Caused by the muscles partially contracting, and the lack of aerobic respiration means that the muscles cannot relax from the contraction, leaving them tense, subsequently resulting in the stiffening we associate with rigor mortis.

This stage typically begins in the head, starting with the eyes, mouth, jaw and neck, and progresses right through the body.

The process is concluded approximately 12 hours after death (although, again, certain variables may occur) and lasts between 24 and 72 hours depending on circumstances.

Contrary to popular belief, rigor mortis is not a permanent state and is in fact reversed, with the muscles relaxing in the same order in which they initially stiffened.

The reversing process also takes approximately 12 hours, when the body returns to its un-contracted state.

It is possible to ‘break’ rigor mortis by manipulating and flexing the limbs. This is usually done by undertakers, pathologists or crime scene investigators who are attempting to examine or move a body – or by a murderer trying to hide their victim in the closet or the boot of a car.

CADAVERIC SPASM

A phenomenon that can be misinterpreted as rigor mortis.

The instantaneous stiffening of the body (most commonly the hands) following a traumatic death.

Unlike rigor mortis, the stiffening of the affected limb is permanent and is not reversed, causing the deceased to maintain the rigidity until such time as putrefaction causes breakdown of the particular muscle group.

Examples:

The deceased following an air crash were later discovered still clutching their seatbelts or arm rests in a final, desperate act of survival.

In a drowning case, the victim was discovered with grass from the riverbank still grasped in their hand.

Perhaps the most famous case of cadaveric spasm involves the rock band Nirvana’s lead singer, Kurt Cobain. Cobain reportedly committed suicide in April 1994. His body was discovered a few days after his death with a shotgun wound to the head, and tests revealed he had large traces of heroin in his system. He was reportedly discovered still clutching the gun in his left hand, due to cadaveric spasm. However, a great deal of controversy surrounds the veracity of this latter assumption, and indeed the cause of his death, with many people insisting and attempting to prove that he died as the result of foul play rather than suicide.

LIVIDITY

Also known as livor mortis, hypostasis, or suggillation.

Once blood can no longer circulate, it will gravitate towards the lowest point of the body.

Example: A supine body will display pinkish/purple patches of discoloration where the blood has settled in the back and along the thighs.

Occurs about 30 minutes after death, but will not necessarily be noticeable until at least 2 hours afterwards as the pooling process intensifies and becomes visible, finally peaking up to between 8 and 12 hours later.

Once it is complete, the lividity process cannot be reversed.

Therefore a body discovered lying on its side, but with staining evident in the back and shoulders, must have been moved at some point from what would have been a supine position at the time of death.

It is worth noting that if the body has had contact with the floor, a wall or other solid surface, lividity would not occur at the points of contact as the pressure would not allow the blood to seep through the capillaries and pool. The specific area of pressure will be the same colour as the rest of the body and a pattern of contact may well be evident.

PUTREFACTION

Derives from the Latin putrefacere, meaning ‘to make rotten’.

The body becomes rotten through the process known as autolysis, which is the liquefaction of bodily tissue and organs and the breakdown of proteins within the body due to the increased presence of bacteria.

The first visible sign is the discoloration of the skin in the area of the abdomen.

Bacteria released from the intestine cause the body to become bloated with a mixture of gases; over time these will leak out, and the smell will intensify to unbearable proportions.

Typically, this will attract flies that will lay eggs, which develop into maggots.

Bloating is most evident in the stomach area, genitals and face, which can become unrecognizable as the tongue and eyes are forced to protrude due to the pressure of the build-up of gases in the body.

At this stage, the body will also begin to lose hair.

The organs typically decompose in a particular order: starting with the stomach, followed by the intestines, heart, liver, brain, lungs, kidney, bladder and uterus/prostate.

Once all the gases have escaped the skin begins to turn black: this stage is called ‘black putrefaction’.

As with all the other stages of death so far, the rate of putrefaction depends on temperature and location. A body exposed to the air above ground will decompose more quickly than a body left in water or buried below ground.

During putrefaction, blistering of the skin and fermentation can also occur:

Fermentation - a type of mould that will grow on the surface of the body. This mould appears white, and is slimy or furry in texture. It also releases a very strong, unpleasant, cheesy smell.

As the putrefaction process comes to an end, fly and maggot activity will become less, which leads to the next stage.

DECOMPOSITION

The body is an organic substance comprising organisms that can be broken down by chemical decomposition.

If the body is outside, any remains that have not been scavenged or consumed by maggots will liquefy and seep into the surrounding soil.

Thus when the body decomposes it is effectively recycled and returned to nature.

SKELETONIZATION

The final stage of death is known as ‘dry decay’, when the cadaver has all but dried out: the soft tissue has all gone and only the skeleton remains.

If the cadaver is outside, not only is it exposed to the elements but it also becomes food for scavengers such as rats, crows or foxes.

As the remains are scavenged, the body parts become dispersed so it is not unusual to find skeletal remains some distance from where the body lay at the point of death.

The way in which skeletal remains are scattered in such cases is of interest to archaeologists, and is referred to as taphonomy.

Where a body has lain undiscovered at home for a period of time it has also been known for family pets, typically dogs, to feed on the body. The natural instinct of a pet is to attempt to arouse the deceased by licking them, but once it gets hungry, its survival instinct will take over and it will consider the body as little more than carrion: it will act with the same natural instinct as a scavenger in the wild, which will feed on any corpse, be it animal or human, if it is starving.

Obviously the number of pets, the body mass of the deceased and the time lapse before the body is discovered will influence to what extent it has been devoured.

For further research on the stages of decomposition and the factors that affect it, look up body farms. These are medical facilities where bodies are donated for research purposes so scientists can specifically observe the decomposition process. However, be aware that some of the images are quite graphic.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Autopsy ⚜ Pain & Violence ⚜ Injuries Bereavement ⚜ Death & Sacrifice ⚜ Cheating Death ⚜ Death Conceptions

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

10 Non-Lethal Injuries to Add Pain to Your Writing

New Part: 10 Lethal Injury Ideas

If you need a simple way to make your characters feel pain, here are some ideas: 

1. Sprained Ankle

A common injury that can severely limit mobility. This is useful because your characters will have to experience a mild struggle and adapt their plans to their new lack of mobiliy. Perfect to add tension to a chase scene.

2. Rib Contusion

A painful bruise on the ribs can make breathing difficult, helping you sneak in those ragged wheezes during a fight scene. Could also be used for something sport-related! It's impactful enough to leave a lingering pain but not enough to hinder their overall movement.

3. Concussions

This common brain injury can lead to confusion, dizziness, and mood swings, affecting a character’s judgment heavily. It can also cause mild amnesia.

I enjoy using concussions when you need another character to subtly take over the fight/scene, it's an easy way to switch POVs. You could also use it if you need a 'cute' recovery moment with A and B.

4. Fractured Finger

A broken finger can complicate tasks that require fine motor skills. This would be perfect for characters like artists, writers, etc. Or, a fighter who brushes it off as nothing till they try to throw a punch and are hit with pain.

5. Road Rash

Road rash is an abrasion caused by friction. Aka scraping skin. The raw, painful sting resulting from a fall can be a quick but effective way to add pain to your writing. Tip: it's great if you need a mild injury for a child.

6. Shoulder Dislocation

This injury can be excruciating and often leads to an inability to use one arm, forcing characters to confront their limitations while adding urgency to their situation. Good for torture scenes.

7. Deep Laceration

A deep laceration is a cut that requires stitches. As someone who got stitches as a kid, they really aren't that bad! A 2-3 inch wound (in length) provides just enough pain and blood to add that dramatic flair to your writing while not severely deterring your character.

This is also a great wound to look back on since it often scars. Note: the deeper and wider the cut the worse your character's condition. Don't give them a 5 inch deep gash and call that mild.

8. Burns

Whether from fire, chemicals, or hot surfaces, burns can cause intense suffering and lingering trauma. Like the previous injury, the lasting physical and emotional trauma of a burn is a great wound for characters to look back on.

If you want to explore writing burns, read here.

9. Pulled Muscle

This can create ongoing pain and restrict movement, offering a window to force your character to lean on another. Note: I personally use muscle related injuries when I want to focus more on the pain and sprains to focus on a lack of mobility.

10. Tendonitis

Inflammation of a tendon can cause chronic pain and limit a character's ability to perform tasks they usually take for granted. When exploring tendonitis make sure you research well as this can easily turn into a more severe injury.

This is a quick, brief list of ideas to provide writers inspiration. Since it is a shorter blog, I have not covered the injuries in detail. This is inspiration, not a thorough guide. Happy writing! :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[naushtheaspiringauthor]

So when I was like 5 and in kindergarten and we had this school event where I was going to sing. So the place where the event was happening was on the other side of the road from school.

And I was supposed to go with my friends but we got into a fight and they left me alone despite knowing I couldn't cross the road by myself. So I started crossing the road alone and got hit by a motorbike and somehow hurt my head (theres still a tiny bald spot over there). I only had like, minor injuries but insisted on still performing in the event. We still have the video of my performance.

@sirisuorionblack @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @marauders-wife @evelyndane and anyone else who wants to share stuff

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- middle age jerk

A/N- So this chapter has nearly a one year time jump after the last one. There is a LOT going on sooo buckle in! And let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-66 ~or make her crumble to shreds~

The entirety of the Grand Palace had been in an uproar when Anaya had walked in. She’d only found out what had happened after meeting with Viktor Ivanov, one of the ministers.

“How!?” Anaya’s voice boomed as she entered the main hall where the council met.

The council members had already gathered and were all equally distressed. Even Nikolai was present, discussing with the man who’d bought the news. 

Their heads turned towards Anaya.

“We have no idea how it could possibly happen” Freidrick Rabinov, the education minister said, hand pressed to his temple.

“That base has one of the highest numbers” Anaya paced around the room. “And the documents just vanish!?”.

The military base was close to the Shu border, and apparently had the most soldiers than any other base. 

And it was only in the morning, the news of the breach had reached them.

Someone had apparently managed to break in and had stolen all documents of importance. 

“The reports of the ranks, camps and barricades in the southern borders, funds,” Danil Baranov, the defence minister, paced around the hall. “All of it, simply vanished as if they never were”.

“The guards did their rounds, no one went in or out” Nikolai spoke, striding forward. “It was only in the morning they found the place ransacked”. Even Nikolai, who had the ability to remain calm and composed in the direst of situations, had a strain to his voice. 

"So you're telling me," Anaya paced around the hall. "No one went in or out except the Colonel himself, and the guards remained posted around the perimeter" She looked around. 

Minister Baranov nodded in agreement. “But the documents are gone", he finished.

 Anaya threw her hands in frustration.

"If we don't have the documents," Nikolai said. "We will be suffering a massive setback in all the work we've done ever since the civil war" He knitted his brows. 

"Not to mention the records of barricades, regiments, and records of the soldiers all across the country." He ran a hand through his hair.

"And the amount of effort it would take to gather the information all over again".

Anaya placed a hand to her forehead, "I must go there" she said. "Minster Baranov, I'd like you to accompany me"

"Yes, councillor" he gave a strained nod, adding emphasis on the title.

.....................................................................

“My office is the most secure place in this entire base”, the Colonel said. “No one comes in except for me unless it is necessary” he looked around. “Even so, I keep a handful of my soldiers posted outside at all times”.

Anaya looked at the encampment. The place was eerily normal, as if no such disaster had occurred.

“We understand the importance of those documents madam” he continued. “We wouldn’t be careless with them” he emphasised on the sentence upon seeing Anaya’s sceptical gaze.

“No signs of a break in,” she moved towards the entrance. “Nothing broken, not a single page turned” she stopped. “Yet the documents are gone, as if they never were”. 

..........................................................

"The base was fully secured" Anaya paced around the room. "Guards posted outside. No one came in or left, except for the Colonel, and yet the documents are gone." She ran a hand through her hair.

Genya, Zoya, David and Nikolai were sitting all around her. All equally distressed. 

"I don't understand this," Genya began. "How could they possibly break in and leave without being seen?” she shook her head in distress. “Not even grisha power works to that extent.”

"The base is near the Shu border, perhaps it’s them?" David suggested. 

"Whoever it may have been, they had a clear goal" Nikolai said, taking a sip from his glass. "Weaken us".

“What do we do now?” Zoya began. “The documents are gone and they most certainly aren’t coming back” she tilted her head. 

Anaya sighed, “We’ll have to do the entire work all over again” she pressed her fingers to her temple. “Minister Baranov will most certainly not enjoy it” she shook her head in distress.

“We will also conduct an investigation,” Nikolai said. “We need to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again”. He picked up a glass of brandy from the table, “The country’s still picking up the pieces, we can’t allow it to fall apart again”.

…………………………………………………

“Perhaps we wouldn’t be in the situation, had they not let children run the country”, Danil Baranov muttered.

The ministers were in much distress as well, but the only one making obnoxious remarks was the defence minister himself. 

“Minister Baranov ” Anaya began, choosing to ignore him. “You are to gather your forces and begin investigating the site, make sure nothing is left behind.” She took a breath, preparing herself for her next words. 

“And as for the crucial information we’ve lost” She held up her chin. “ I will need you to work on gathering the information again.” she said.

Creases appeared on the man’s pale features,his eyebrows knitted together. “Madam” he began, his voice already stern. “You do realise what you’re asking of, don’t you?”.

“Yes, Ministern Baranov,” Anaya spoke, an unusual calmness to her voice. “I do understand that it’s an incredibly laborious task to ask for, but we’re short on options. And the military records are of great importance for the country, I believe you do realise that”.

“Still”, he began. “Gathering all that information could take days, months even”he raised his eyebrows in dismay. “And I happen to have much more pressing matters to attend to”.

“All of your work is of equal importance, minister” Anaya placed her arms on the table, leaning forward. “I am merely telling you to do your job”.

“Councillor Nasrazeen” he began, his tone mocking her title. “I have been doing my job even when the King himself couldn’t” his tone was brimming with pride. The man was the oldest member of the council, and had held his position during King Alexander the Third's reign, so the uttermost disdain by Anaya becoming the councillor was from him. 

More so, as he had expected the position to go to him.

 “So you aren’t in a position to tell me what my job is.” He raised a disinterested eyebrow.

“I believe that is exactly what my job is, Minister Baranov” Anaya’s voice began to rise.

She could only get a glimpse of him clenching his fists before he stood up hastily, slamming down his hands on the table. “I’ve had experience more than your age, girl” he pointed a finger at Anaya.

 “I don’t get why they made you Councillor, but I’m sure as hell you don’t even know what you’re doing” His voice was jagged, blunt daggers cutting around the edges.

Anaya sat back, fists clenched at her sides.

The rest of the ministers merely looked at him, some with concern, others with disdain. “You think surviving in a civil war makes you capable enough to run a damned country!?” he jammed his finger in the air.

 “You’re just some foolish grisha girl who isn't capable of any of this!”. The man was clearly taking out his pent up contempt on her.

Anaya only briefly glanced at the sudden shift in Nikolai’s expression before she stood up.

 “I am your councillor! Whether you like it or not.” She roared, her voice reverberating in the massive hall.

 “If you think you’re so deserving of leading this council then go ahead, conduct a vote!” she waved her hand. “Let them choose you but until then” she put down her hands on the table, leaning forward. “You will do what I command you and you will do it without complaints!”. 

The patience in her voice was long abandoned.

“It’s none of our fault that the documents are gone but we’re all dealing with it aren’t we?” her brows were knitted to the extent that they began to strain. “And it was your job to make sure they were secure” she jabbed her finger in his direction. “So do your damn job and not just complain while the country falls apart yet again!” she jerked her hand downwards.

The man’s eyes widened, his mouth hung open in disbelief. He opened his mouth to respond.

“Sit down, Minister Baranov, ” Nikolai's stern voice commanded before he could speak.

Without further complaint, he hastily sat back down.

“All of you do your jobs” Anaya’s voice toned down. “This meeting is done” she bolted out the door.

……………………………………

“Anaya, wait!” Nikolai’s voice reverberated in the hallways.

But she didn’t halt. That’s what they thought, she knew. What all of them thought, but never spoke, until Danil Baranov did.

 Perhaps he was right.

Nikolai’s steps grew louder as he rushed to catch up to her.

 “You don’t have to think of what Baranov says” he said, finally catching up to her. “He’s always been like this”.

“I don’t care!” Anaya’s voice had an unfamiliar sharpness to it. She went inside her study, hoping he would go away.

He didn’t.

“Anaya,” he said, following her inside. “Is there something else bothering you?” His voice was infuriatingly gentle.

Anaya turned to the shelves, feigning urgency of picking out papers.

 “Because he has been like this from the start. He’s been on the council for the longest, so he believes he should attain special privileges. You shouldn’t think much of what he says,” he explained.

“It’s not just him”, she spoke, still not facing him. “That’s what everyone thinks” she turned to him, brows knitted. “I see it on their faces everyday, I hear it in their forcefully compliant voices” her voice began to tremble.

“That I’m not capable enough for this job, an immature Grisha woman pretending to be a leader” her gaze turned sombre, she briefly pursed her lips.

“And maybe they’re not wrong” she turned her gaze sideways.

There was a brief silence, hanging in the air, tugging at the edges of the emotions Anaya Nasrazeen did not wish to express.

“That is not true” Nikolai’s voice was gentle, yet firm. 

She turned to him, her gaze brimming with disdain.

“They haven’t had the barest glimpse of all that you’ve endured” he said. “You were on the Darkling’s ship, against your will for weeks” he waved his arm. “Yet you’re the reason we managed to make it out alive”. 

He moved closer to her. “Even after losing so much, you spent months in the Apparat’s Cathedral.” His voice was much softer now.

 “You were the one who stood by my side when I was an inhuman beast. You stood by me, when the world would’ve bolted” His gaze grew sombre.

 “In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve done nothing but work for this country” He pointed a finger at her.

 “Because you’ve had hope, you believed there was still hope for this country.” He jerked down his hand.

 “So no, I don’t think you’re not suitable for this job, and I disagree with anyone who thinks otherwise” His hazel-eyed gaze bore into hers. ‘I think you’re exactly the right person for this job, Anaya”.

Anaya’s gaze softened, her features relaxing. She lifted her eyebrows, unable to fully comprehend all he’d just said. 

Nikolai Lantsov had rendered her speechless. 

Anaya looked at him with a wide-eyed gaze, “Do you really think that?” her voice was soft, the gentle breeze  of autumn.

“Of course, Anaya,” he said, gazing into her deep brown eyes. “I mean every word”. He was close, a little too close.

“It’s just,” she sighed. She paced towards the window, briefly pressing her fingertips to her eyes. “Baranov just never wants to comply”. 

He walked up to her side.

“I mean, we’re all equally distressed, aren’t we?” she turned to him. “But he just makes it seem as if he’s the only one struggling”she said, exhaustion spreading over her words.

“Well, he always has been one of the worst people in this palace,” Nikolai lifted a shoulder. “I’ve heard he once insisted on going straight to the battlefields amidst a battle to ‘assess the situation’” he gestured with his fingers. “And ended up getting shot”.

“What” Anaya exclaimed in surprise, her eyes widened. “He actually walked in the middle of a battle!?” she looked at him in awe. 

“Oh yeah” Nikolai nodded, slightly grinning.

Anaya shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, I’ve understood by now that he’s not quite sane,” she waved her hand. “But that is pure hysteria” she looked down, shaking her head, as she began grinning. 

It soon transformed into a laugh.

Raw, unprecedented, pure, a stranger to her own ears.

She turned to Nikolai, but she stopped, glancing at him in confusion. ‘What?” she asked, utterly bewildered.

Nikolai’s eyes were widened, his eyebrows shot upwards, a smile playing on his lips. “Nothing” he seemed to snap back to reality. ‘It’s just,” he lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never heard you laugh before”.

Anaya pursed her lips. ‘Well,” she shrugged. “You haven’t really said anything like this before”.

……………………………………..

“Good news is,” Zoya began. “After your little scuffle with Minister Baranov, he’s actually started doing his job instead of just complaining about his job” she put a hand on the sofa’s arm. 

They were all seated in Nikolai’s office, the triumvirate, Nikolai, and Anaya. 

Their meetings after finishing up their work had become a regular endeavour. It was their way of letting out some of their stress.

“To be fair, he did deserve it,” Nikolai lifted a shoulder.

“I can’t actually believe you finally lost control,” Genya grinned.

“Oh you haven’t seen her mad” Zoya spoke. “This one time-”

“Zoya, don’t” Anaya said, already being aware of what she was going to say.

“This one time” Zoya continued, disregarding her. “We were in school, and this one boy told her that she’s ‘wasting her time in stupid things’ because she was studying, what’s it called?’ She turned to Anaya.

“Parabolas,” Anaya answered, raising a shoulder.

“Yeah that” Zoya gave a nod. “ So she punched him in the nose,” she finished, grinning.

A collective sound of surprise echoed in the room. 

“Worst thing was that he caught a cold immediately afterwards, so every time he sneezed he would cry in pain,” she added.

“Just because he said parabolas are stupid!?”Genya said in surprise.

“Well-” Anaya began.

“Seems like a suitable reaction actually” David cut her off.

They all turned to look at him.

He merely shrugged.

“Remind me never to offend you,” Nikolai said, his eyes widened.

“You shouldn't need a reminder” Anaya raised an eyebrow.

Their laughter came to a sudden halt as soon as the doors burst open. 

“I know how it happened,” Tamar said as she rushed in. “The theft, I know how it happened”.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

A List of "Beautiful" Words: Brown

for your next poem/story

Adust - scorched, burned

Auburn - a moderate brown

Beige - of a color that is light grayish-yellowish brown

Biscuit - a light grayish-yellowish brown

Bronze - a moderate yellowish brown

Castaneous - of the color chestnut

Chestnut - a grayish to reddish brown

Cinnamon - a light yellowish brown

Cocoa - a medium brown color

Drab - a light olive brown

Infuscation - darkened with a brownish tinge

Khaki - a light yellowish-brown

Mahogany - a moderate reddish brown

Russet - a reddish brown

Rust - a strong reddish brown

Sepia - a brownish-gray to dark olive-brown color

Sorrel - a brownish orange to light brown

Tan - a light yellowish brown

Umber - a moderate to dark yellowish brown

Walnut - a moderate reddish brown

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ More: Word Lists

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Malina this, Kanej that. WHAT ABOUT THEM???

Not my art******

All credits go to @kolarpem

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

I was going through my day when I actually realised something about Zoya

Spoilers for rule of wolves

So there are still a lot of people that think Zoya Nazyalensky is heartless, she doesn't care about anyone, she's selfish, etcetra.

BUT

In the end of rule of wolves, the Darkling stops the fold from spreading by like, impaling himself with the thorn wood and he'd have to suffer for eternity. But Zoya still decides on finding a way to help him, so that he gets to die. A final act of mercy.

Mercy for the man who manipulated her all her life, forced her to keep on pushing her limits to prove herself to him, made her feel worthless and worst of all, took away the person who loved her the most.

AND YET SHE DECIDED ON HELPING HIM. SHE DECIDED ON GIVING MERCY TO THE MAN WHO TOOK AWAY A PART OF HER. THE MAN WHO TORMENTED HER.

So I will die on this hill, defending her against all those who think of her as selfish and obnoxious. Because if you believe those things about Zoya Nazyalensky then you really don't know her at all.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

THE TALENT????THE HARDWORK?? AND THIS IS LITERALLY SO SATISFYING TO WATCH

x

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

OH NY GODDDD THIS IS SO MAJESTIC

zoyalai part ?????

@savethegrishaverse you're gonna have to see my edits twice now that you follow me on tiktok 🫡

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Trick or treat? :)

WOAHHHHHHHHH I LOVE TRICK OR TREATING TYSM FOR THE ASKKK

However forgive me as I don't have much to offer other than my talents so here's a Lil poem I wrote I hope u like it!

She is the raging storm, the thunder roaring in the night sky

He is the soft breeze, moving through the trees, a breath of fresh air.

She is a hurricane, the massive tides crashing over the rocks.

He is the the gentle waves, nudging the shore with utter sincerity.

She is harsh, she is wild, she is everything all at once

He is silent, he is patient, he is a mere simpleton.

She has sides of her that the world sees, stern, determined, never afraid to speak her mind.

She tucks away the gentle, the benevolent part of her, the one that cares deeply about all things

She hides away this side of her on the farthest corner of her shelf.

He's willing to know each part of her, willing to learn her like his favorites book, intently, enthusiastically, with great effort.

She is all things at once

He is merely the boy who loves her.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

Soft-Feeling Latin Words & Phrases

Another list of Latin phrases, this time with soft/warm meanings. It is 2:39am as I make this list.

a te pro te: from thee for thee

ab imo pectore: from the bottom of the heart

volat hora per orbem: time files through the world

coelum versus: heavenward

concubia nocte: at dead of night

crepusculum: twilight or dusk

crescens luna: a cresent moon

cum corde: with the heart

labores solis: an eclipse of the sun

in horam viviere: to live for the moment

in rerum natura: in the nature of things

in tuto esse: in a safe place

ingens aequor: the vast ocean

inter vivos: among the living

januae mentis: inlets of knowledge

jenuis clausis: in secret, with closed doors

littera scripta manet: the written letter remains

lux mundi: light of the world

lux vitae: light of life

meo voto: by my wish

mox nox: soon night

multis cum lacrimis: with many tears

ningit: it is snowing

occidui temporis umbra: a shadow at sunset

opinio vana: an illusion

osculum pacis: kiss of peace

papilio: butterfly

par pari refero: tit for tat

per vian dolorosam: the way of sorrows

philtrum: a love potion

pluvia: rain

res rustica: a rural affair

ros marinus: rosemary

semel et semper: once and always

silva: wood or forest

sinus urbis: heart of the city

As always, happy writing!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

Reference: Latin for the Illiterati: a modern guide to an ancient language by Jon R. Stone, second edition 2009.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

If this post gets 10 reblogs I'll make the Grishaverse pantheon of characters in Dress to Impress. (Edit: This was reached, so at some point it will happen >:)

If this post gets 20 reblogs I'll let the people vote on the order in which the characters get revealed. (Edit: This was reached, so the voting will commence soon >:)

If this post gets 69 reblogs I'll livestream the whole thing on twitch.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- slight ptsd and mentions of scars

A/N- CHILD OF THE STORM IS BACK YALL. I am SO sorry for disappearing for like, three months life's been A LOT. There's only two three more chapters left until the fic's over. I cannot believe it's been more than a year. BUT there is something new coming up very soon (tho it would be a lot sooner IF I JUST FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX THE DAMNED PLOT HOLE). Anyways, this chapter's a bit long so buckle in. And let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-65 ~and it was either going to make her stronger than ever~

Anaya stopped at the doorway. She took a deep breath before entering the ballroom.

The place was a massive hall with shiny golden walls and chandeliers that covered almost the entire ceiling. It was where all of the royal events were hosted.

And tonight, for Nikolai’s coronation, Genya had done a great job of making even the hideous Grand Palace appear endearing. 

Even though Nikolai was supposed to be the centre of attention tonight, every head turned as Anaya went in. 

Even Nikolai himself had turned to look at her.

“Great” she thought, not quite fond of the gesture. She’d already been late because she’d spent the afternoon working when she should've been preparing for the event.

She walked forward, her gown brushing against the laces of her shoes, a smile on her face.

She saw Genya and Zoya standing in a far corner, gesturing to her to come to them.

“Councillor Nasrazeen,” A man spoke up, blocking her path. “It’s an honour to finally meet you” he smiled. Though his narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow expressed how he was much more irritated to meet her.

 “Duke Verensky” he introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Duke Verensky” Anaya said, a smile plastered across her face.

“I have to say,” he began. “Ravka truly is changing its ways of working” He raised his brows. “Given how the Council is now being led by a Grisha woman”.

There it was.

When the news of Anaya’s position had reached the nobles, some had been intrigued as to why she’d become the Councillor. Others had simply refused to accept it. 

“Surely you’re aware of all the events that have happened in our country since last year,” Anaya said, her voice unwavering. “Ravka is certainly seeing changes it hadn’t ever seen before.” She tilted her head. “And perhaps it’s for the best.” 

But the Duke only narrowed his eyes further, “That we shall see” he gave a nod, walking away.

The coronation began shortly afterwards and lasted for a while. 

Anaya glanced at the clock. It’d only been an hour since she’d arrived, and yet it had felt like an eternity.

The prying eyes of the guests and their never ending questions made her want to walk out the door, but she had no other choice but to stay.

“Why exactly did King Nikolai choose you for a position that holds such great importance?” One of the guests asked.

“I believe you would have to ask his majesty himself about his decision” She offered as pleasantly as she could. 

“Still, if you had to think of a possible reason, what would you choose?” She pressed.

It’s probably because I don’t ask useless questions.

“It could be, as I’ve worked by his side during the civil war and because of my experience on foreign lands” She said. 

“Surely you would need more factors than that to be worthy of running a country” the woman said, smiling.

Why don’t you run it instead.

Anaya forced her lips into a smile, “Duchess, I-”

“I deeply apologise for interrupting you,” Genya appeared by her side. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow Miss Nasrazeen for a moment” she smiled and dragged Anaya away by her arm.

“How do I thank you for this favour Genya” Anaya let out an exasperated sigh as she went to the corner where Zoya was.

“By actually dressing up on time” Genya grinned as she rolled a single amber eye.

“That woman is a menace,” Zoya added, handing Anaya a glass of champagne.

“That I figured out” Anaya rolled her eyes, taking the glass.

“I have to say,” Genya glimpsed at her dress. “You do look good in blue”.

“‘Immensely endearing’ is the term I’d use” Anaya flashed a grin. 

She lowered her voice“ I'm surprised how you managed to turn this hideous palace appealing ”

“What can I say” Genya straightened her shoulders. “I'm very talented”.

“Where is David by the way?” She asked

Genya rolled her eye, “He left as soon as the Coronation was over. He's very repulsive to social gatherings”.

“However do you deal with him” Zoya said, shaking her head.

There was a brief silence, filled by their similar thoughts.

“It's so hard,” Zoya sighed. “Pretending to be thrilled about all this, as if nothing happened”.

Anaya gave a single nod of her head. “That's what this all is” she lifted a shoulder. “Pretending to move on, getting used to the changes, acting along in the play”.

“Atleast Nikolai’s doing it a lot better than us,” Genya said, her gaze drifting over to where he was standing.

Anaya nodded in agreement. 

Even after all he'd endured, he'd managed to keep the act going, playing the parts he was expected to.

She had no idea how he did it all, when she could do nothing to shake the feeling of her scars creeping over her, reminding her of how they came to be.

Slithering like thorned vines over her arms, her back.

The evening stretched on and the nobles continued to pester Anaya with their inane questions.

And she had no choice but to offer them and answer.

…………………………………..

Anaya stood near one of the tables at a corner, a glass of champagne in her hand. It was getting immensely difficult to get through the event without it.

She then noticed two of the grisha students silently creeping out with a bottle of champagne hidden behind their backs.

“And where exactly do you two plan to be going?” Anaya said, appearing behind them.

The Fabrikator and the Heartrender turned around hastily, trembling in fear upon the sight of her.

“Nowhere…ma’am” The Boy began, refusing to meet her gaze

But the Heartrender cut him off, “I actually needed some fresh air so I told him to go outside” She offered.

Despite being shorter, Anaya seemed to be the one looking down at them.

“And I suppose you also need the champagne to enjoy the fresh air” She raised an eyebrow.

“We-” The girl began, but Anaya's sceptical gaze stopped her from further speaking.

Anaya looked at them for a moment, “What are your names?” She said, finally speaking.

“I- Nestor Verakov”, ma’am” The boy looked at his feet.

Anaya's gaze shifted to the girl.

“Nina Zenik” she said, managing to look up.

Anaya sighed, “Fine go, just don't let the General see you” she glanced at Zoya who was surrounded by a group of First Army officials.

They barely nodded before rushing out the door.

Anaya sighed and went back to her corner before another noble could drag her off.

She looked around, taking a sip from her second glass.

“Going very fast on the champagne are we?” She turned to see Nikolai with a smile on his face. “I will need my Councillor to be able to work tomorrow you know” He walked to her side.

Anaya sighed, “Yeah yeah”.

“You know,” He stood beside her. “Even though it’s supposed to be my day, you’re the one gathering all the attention” He flashed a grin.

Anaya rolled her eyes, “These people ask the most inane questions” She shook her head. “I get people asking how I plan on bringing developments to the country,” She waved her hand. “But how am I supposed to know what kind of woman the new king would be willing to marry?” She turned her hand.

He shook his head in disdain but he was smiling, “Ah, the nobles” He tilted his head briefly. “They tend to do that quite a lot, you’ll get used to it”.

“Perhaps you should tell them that the King’s looking for a seamstress who plays the eighteen string Khatur”.

Anaya turned to him, “Why specifically the eighteen string?” She raised a brow. “Why not the twelve?”.

“I” He began. “am a cultured man Anaya” He spoke as dramatically as he could manage with the guests watching them. “The eight string is for uncultured fools, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Anaya put her glass down. “I don’t have much interest in string instruments”.

He paused briefly then spoke, “I’d have to thank you for your advice” His voice was much lower and serious.  “Really helped me get through all this”.

Anaya looked at him and gave the barest shake of his head, “Well I’m not one to offer advice,” She met his gaze. “But I’m glad I could help” Her lips formed a small smile.

……………………………………………

The topic had come up the previous morning. Anaya had been in her study, working, when Zoya and Genya had shown up to have tea with her.

“Nikolai doesn’t seem very thrilled about it,” Zoya had pointed out.

Genya nodded, “He appears distressed” She lowered her voice. “After all he’s endured, I’m not sure if he wishes to be King all the same.”

“But he has to,” Zoya said.

Genya gave a distant nod, pondering upon something. “Anaya” She turned to her.

“Hmm?” Anaya looked away from her papers. 

“You should speak with him”.

Anaya furrowed her brows, “What why?”.

Genya picked up her teacup, “He needs someone to tell him that he doesn’t need to fret about being the King”.

Anaya looked at her with an utterly confused look, “Why me? Why can’t either of you speak with him?”. 

She glanced at Zoya. “Well not her, but why can’t you do it”

Zoya rolled her eyes.

“I don’t…really speak with him” Genya said, hesitation lingering in her voice. “Given all that has happened”.

Genya had been pardoned only because of Alina Starkov. So there still was some hesitation between her and Nikolai. And Anaya had the feeling he didn’t fully trust her yet.

“Plus, he does seem to listen to you,” Zoya added.

Anaya raised her brows.

“He does, actually,” Genya agreed.

So Anaya had spoken with him. 

Not the entire day. The only time she’d seen him was when she’d been walking down the hall with the Finance Minister. 

When she’d been walking back to the Little Palace at night, then she’d seen him. Standing near the lake, almost irrecognizable.

"Nervous about the big day?" Anaya asked as she walked towards him. 

He turned to her in utter curiosity. His gaze softened upon the sight of her, "Well yeah" he sighed. "It's quite weird".

 He looked up at the night sky, the gleaming stars. "Even though I've been preparing for this my entire life, it still seems very daunting". 

She stood next to him.

 "It is understandable" she met his gaze. "I mean it's not everyday you get to be the King" she tilted her head. "It can be quite strange, when the moment you've been waiting, preparing for so long, finally comes". Her voice was low, the breeze on a summer night, making the trees waver gently. 

"For a long while, it almost seems impossible".

 "Improbable, actually" Nikolai lifted a finger, a corner of his mouth turned up.

 "What?" She said, utterly perplexed.

 "Nothing is truly impossible, it's only ever improbable".

 She nodded briefly in amusement, "Well, alright".

The silence lingered in the air, gentle, comforting, a hand held in another.

“Is this what you wanted to do?” Nikolai spoke, turning towards her.

She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“To be the council leader,  run the country?” He amended.

She looked at him, startled by the question but soon, her gaze softened. “Well, I’ve been certain for a long while” she looked at her hands. “That I wish to help the people, work for their betterment”. 

“And if being the Councillor is my way to do it, then I’m content with this job.” She lifted a shoulder.

She turned to the sky, admiring the gleaming stars, the moon at the centre of it all, shining the brightest.

She could feel his gaze on her, lingering in the silence. She didn’t look at him, she didn’t believe she could.

“It’s not easy,” he finally spoke. “Pretending to be your best version, when you’re still picking up the pieces”.

“Isn’t that what we’re all doing?,” she said, finally turning towards him. “Pretending to be okay when we’re not?”.

He nodded, looking at the sky, appearing as if he’s reminiscing.

“You’ll make a great King,” Anaya’s voice wavered in the air. 

He met her gaze, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. 

“Especially because you’ll have an immensely talented Councillor by your side” She lifted her grinning, a small grin playing on her lips.

He smiled, “That, I will”.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

-:“We can’t sleep, because we’re both insomniacs” Late night sleep prompts:-

By @me-writes-prompts

Late night random talking about the best moments they’ve had together

Playing endless stream of board games and getting all loud when one of them wins

“Do we have ice cream at home? I learned that carbs make you sleepy.” “No, but pretty sure we have ramen. I mean, either type of carbs make you sleepy right?”

Tangling their bodies to try to get more comfortable but then complaining about how awkward it feels.

Frantically making out to try to get sleepy👀

“We should really be sleeping right now, babe. We both have work tomorrow.” “I know...*silence*Wait! You remember [name]’s birthday party? That was total madness.” “Oh my god, yeah. Everything was just so…” *both start gossiping forever*

“Wanna have some coffee?” “Nah.” “Come on, it’s early morning. You’re not planning to sleep now, are you?” *sighs* “Fine. You’re right.”

Putting on a boring movie but then getting too invested because it’s not even that boring.

^^”Omg, did you see that? She cheated on him with his secretary!” “Haha, I didn’t think this was going to be interesting at all but this is something, we have to finish it.”

“I heard ASMR works well to help with sleep. How about we try that?” “Oh, yeah, let’s do it.”

^^sharing headphone while they do that and then fall asleep just like that, all snuggled up, attached by a string of wire. Get it? Lmao.

When nothing else works, they both decide to resort to their last option: telling each other their favorite childhood bed time stories

^^“And then, the princess killed the prince and lived happily ever after.” “Oh, wow. A tragic love story, wait why did your mum read that to you as a bedtime story? Are you okay? Is she okay?” “Lol.”