#;; SOMETIMES SHE'S JUST THERE SUPER LATE CURLED UP IN AN ARMCHAIR READING ONE OF THE BOOKS

[kaerinio]

cannot stop thinking about an au where dany just . . . opens a bookstore. it's not just any bookstore, though. there's a lil' cafe in it and tons of space for people to spread out and get comfy and read or host community events. she's always working on other work (because ofc she is active in the community through a million organizations) while she's there between helping customers. sometimes, you can catch drogon, rhaegal, and viserion hanging around, snoozing. there's this cute little area with children's books and toys, and dany reads to the kids. she really loves getting her hands on rare books and can often be found with her phone, tablet, and laptop open on the back counter while she's bidding in auctions.

[atalho-s]

Light Up The Dark

Part 2 | We are accidents waiting to happen

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: smut +18 miniors dni, swear words?, drinking, let me know if anything else!

words: 5.0 k

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! I don’t have a taglist yet, but if you want to be tagged in the next chapters let me know!! 

PART 2 if you want to read part 1 click here! 

It was already Saturday. The day Y/n took for herself. Writing was extraordinary, but she loved having a day off to take care of herself. She spent the day doing things she enjoyed, whether it was lying in bed watching a movie or trying to cook something.

After the fateful day of writer's block she started writing like crazy, so she didn't feel guilty about taking a day off without thinking about her characters and how they would get out of the challenges she had created for them.

The fateful day. For some reason she kept thinking about that damned Brit with that accent. For a moment she'd been scared that she'd been seen by paparazzi hanging out with the mysterious bartender, or even some picture of him leaving her apartment. But nothing came out in the news on the gossip sites, which made her relieved.

As much as she deserved to have fun once in a while and wasn't doing anything wrong, she still didn't want to bring attention to herself and even less to a guy who wasn't even famous. She was afraid to put anyone who wasn't famous in the media. Fear that one day suddenly, this person might be persecuted because of her.

Anyway, it had just been a crazy night. Nothing much. And she didn't intend to see him again. So she had nothing to worry about.

Sitting down in the kitchen counter with her familiar cup of coffee she got lost in some thoughts. Why hadn't she stopped thinking about him ever since? It had been a great night, but that was all. She didn't even know him well.

Maybe it was because her creative block had been broken after being with him. But obviously it was just a coincidence. She had just felt inspired after a distraction.

She shook his head away from the thoughts and placed the cup in the sink. She took a deep breath and thought about what to do next. But before she could think of anything else her cell phone started ringing on the counter. She was almost jump by the sudden sound, seeing the screen indicating that it was Milla, her agent, who had become one of her best friends.

- Hi Mil! - she said after sliding the screen.

- Good morning baby. - she said on the other end of the line. - Ready for the party?

- Party? What a party? - Y/n asked confused starting to wash the small amount ofdishes she had soiled.

- How you don't know? I thought I sent you the invitation on your email and I even sent you a message!

- Bestie, I haven't seen my email or message for days. I was super focused on the book, my writer's block finally went away.

- Really? I knew that would go away! You were worried for nothing. What did you do to go back to writing? - Milla asked and Y/n smiled a little.

- Well... I just went out to chill out a bit...Nothing much.

- Y/n getting out on weekdays? And even on the days you're writing a book? That's what I call grow. - she said and Y/n rolled her eyes laughing. - I'm even afraid to invite you to parties, because I know when you're writing you hate to go out... But it's good to know that you're getting out of your routine a little...

- Yeah, sometimes it's good to breathe new air. - Y/n replied drying his hands on a towel. - But what party are you talking about?

- A party of none other than Emma Brown. - Y/n snorted. Emma Brown was a great actress who to tell the truth she didn't know much, she only knew her from a couple of her movies, but other than that she didn't know much about her.

But what she did know was that she had some also famous friends of questionable taste. They were those famous people who only knew about money, women, cars and mansions. But she was tipped for a theatrical adaptation of one of her books and she wanted everything to come out perfect. She was very afraid the movie would end up ruining her work.

- Do I really have to go? - She asked in a tearful voice.

- Yes you have! It's going to be a really fancy birthday party for her, all the famous people in the industry are going to be there. You know you have to socialize with these people. Who knows, you can make some important friendships...

- Milla... I don't know... I don't need important friendships. I don't need anyone to stand up or approach others for interest.

- I know you don't need anyone for that... I just meant that you're very isolated, you need to make connections, understand? I know it's hard because you hate all that fame and stuff. But if you want the adaptation of your story to be good, there's no way... Besides, one of the great directors you left me on the list to research will be there too. So it would be really cool to kill two birds with one stone. - Milla said and Y/n sighed. She was right, if she wanted everything to work out she had to at least have a conversation with these people. It would be weird to refuse Emma's invitation to her birthday. It would just show that she was uninterested.

- Okay... You won ok? - She said and Milla gave an excited squeal. - But I won't stay long!

- Okay, okay... Just for you to go is great! Andrew will be there shortly for you to choose a dress. -Andrew was her stylist and she practically jumped every time Y/n had an important event, because it was rare for her to go. Good thing he didn't just have her as a client, because otherwise he'd be bored out of his mind for a long time.

- Okay Mil, thank you... I love you! - She said and Milla said goodbye hanging up the phone.

It was late afternoon when Andrew arrived at her apartment with several suitcases and bags in both hands. He really had brought up thousands of options. But Y/n ended up choosing a slightly shiny black dress that went just above the knee with a V-neck. Something cute, but nothing too fancy.

He did her makeup. Which wasn't too heavy either, as she hated things that were too heavy on her face. Finally she put on a mid-heeled sandal in the same color as the dress and her sparkly earrings. Before Andrew left her apartment satisfied with the result.

It was almost 7:30 pm when a black car that would take her to the party location arrived in front of her building and she got out enter the backseat right after. She was apprehensive. She hated socializing to tell the truth. Large crowds and cameras really made her anxious.

After almost 20 minutes the car stopped in front of what appeared to be a large gate. Several paparazzi showed up and started taking pictures of her car surrounding her or even tapping on the window a little, asking her if she could talk to them. Which she obviously ignored. The driver introduced himself to the doorman and he opened the gate letting the car pass and stop in front of a luxurious mansion.

Some people were coming in and others were standing in front talking. She saw that there were some familiar faces of the media. Actresses, actors, singers, famous people of every imaginable type.

She opened the car door and walked out towards the large entrance. She smiled at a few people, nodding her head as she passed and found herself in a crowd of people as she entered the place. There really were a lot of people, despite the place being even bigger inside. Many with fancy drinks in hand and chatting. A song playing on the background.

She walked deeper into the room and took a quick look around trying to find the birthday girl. After a few minutes she found her near one of the sofas. Y/n walked over and stopped beside her, causing Emma to stop her conversation with two more people and look at her.

- Happy Birthday! - Y/n said in the friendliest way possible and Emma smirked and hugged her lightly afterwards.

- Thank you! Glad you came! - she said, breaking out of the hug after a few seconds.

- Your party is very beautiful, I loved the decoration. - Y/n said looking around. Indeed Emma had decorated the place in a simple way, but at the same time fancy and beautiful.

- Oh thank you... - she said, still smiling. - I'm very happy that you accepted my invitation, we have a lot to talk about since maybe we'll work together, right?

- No problem, obviously I would come... - Y/n said and almost punched herself because she was very fake in saying that. - But we really have to talk!

- Well, I was talking to Jim just now... I can give you his number later... He's a great director and I think it would be great for your adaptation... - Emma said and Y/n thought that she was really interested in that adaptation, because she was even talking to the possible renowned director, which surprised her. She thought Emma was a little more oblivious to her books and even movie stuff. She thought she was one of those famous actresses who expected others to come after her, not being interested in the work itself, but only on the fame and money. - We love your book! I think it has great potential for a grand adaptation.

- Wow, that is good to hear! Thanks a lot! - Y/n said sincerely this time. - I'll love talking to him too...

- Sure! - She looked behind Y/n and motioned to someone from far away. - Hey Jim! You can come here? - She asked speaking loudly for him to hear and Y/n turned around watching the director approaching after saying goodbye to someone. He wasn't much older than she thought, maybe in his early thirties, he wore a small beard that fit his face and short hair, but with curls that jutted out around his head. -That's Y/n... Y/n that's Jim...-Emma said when he got in front of her and Jim held out his hand with a smile.

- Nice to meet Y/n, we finally met... - he said and Y/n shook his hand also smiling.

- Nice to meet you Jim! - She said and Emma sat in one of the armchairs indicating for the two to sit, which they did next.

- Do you two want something to drink? Champagne?- Emma asked and they both accepted as she motioned for someone from far away to bring them.

- Well, I found your book very intriguing Y/n... I can say I haven't slept for a while... - Jim said laughing a little and Y/n smiled. - It's a very well written story, I loved the plots and it has a great resolution. I think I would make a good 2 hour movie with all this material... - he said and Y/n paid attention until something took her a little out of focus. Something not. Somebody.

It was the waiter, and not just any waiter. It was Tom. He came into her vision and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Maybe it was a mirage or she was mistaking him for someone else. But when he approached she was sure it was him. He came with a tray with drinks in one hand. He was wering a white dress shirt, with black pants. The typical pattern of a fancy party waiter. But he was beautiful. Y/n felt a shiver for a moment and tried to hide it by looking back at Jim who was still talking about his plans for the possible movie.

Maybe Tom didn't even remember her. She was just a one-night stand, he should do that with a lot of girls out there, so it wasn't something new to him. As soon as he arrived, he handed one of the glasses to Emma beside her and Y/n felt her breath quicken a little. She didn't know why she was so nervous. It was just a waiter she had slept with a few days ago.

- Excuse me... - he said and Y/n looked up at him quickly seeing that he was right in front of him. -Here it is miss...-he said looking her in the eyes and then winking at her, wich almost make her shrink in her chair. He held out the tray for her to take one of the glasses and she did, looking away at Jim.

- So, what do you think? - Jim asked taking the glass from the tray and Y/n took a sip of his surprise drink.

- Sorry? - She asked guiltily for having been distracted.

- About us meeting and having a meeting next week? That way I can show you my idea better. - he said and Y/n smiled.

- Of course, that would be great! - she said and Tom walked away not looking in her direction again, which left her disappointed for a second. She would going to love looking into those eyes again.

- Perfect! - Jim replied excitedly and started talking about other things as well as Emma.

They talked for almost an hour, until Emma went to talk to other people and Jim said he was leaving as he had some work in the morning. Y/n sat for a while and finished drinking the last of her champagne and placed it on the table in front of her.

She thought about leaving. She had already done the important interactions for the night. So, she had no reason to stay there. But she kept thinking about the damn waiter. Would it be weird to go talk to him? Maybe just say hi? But she doubted he would want to talk to her. Besides, he was working. She didn't want to get in his way.

Getting up from her chair and straightening her dress, she forced her steps towards the exit, but stopped midway as she saw Tom walking into what appeared to be the kitchen with the tray tucked under his arm. She looked at the exit door and sighed. Okay, if she went to him just to say hi, it wouldn't hurt would it?

Y/n turned and headed in the direction that Tom had gone. She couldn't even believe she was doing it this. She would looked ridiculous in his eyes. But she choose to ignore the little voice of reason again. Passing by a few people, and walking out into a empty hallway, she opening a single door at end. She closed in behind her and turned to see that Tom was on his back piling some boxes in a corner. His muscles in that outfit made her feel tempted somehow, so she swallowed hard. He turned at the sound of the door closing and looked at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

- Looking for something madam? - He asked with a smirk.

- Actually... - Y/n thought of some excuse, maybe it would be better, so it would seem that she was there for something else and not for him. - Yeah... I was looking for the bathroom, I think I take the wrong direction...

- Yeah...Actually, the bathroom is on the other side of the hallway... - he said leaning against the kitchen counter and looking her up and down, making her feel completely vulnerable. After his eyes roamed her legs and bust, they came to her face and he grinned.

- Okay, I'll... - Y/n started saying and turned around taking a few steps. But she stopped midway, closing his eyes, tearing himself apart from the inside out of embarrassment. She turned around again seeing that he was still watching her, now with his arms crossed over his chest, wondering what she would do next. - You remember me don't you? - She asked fearfully.

- Of course I remember darling... - he said, practically intensifying his accent in that nickname that was so perfect in his voice. Y/n took a few steps forward also crossing her arms. - How could I forget the famous writer Y/n?- He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes with his last sentence.

- It really was an...- She looked at her feet trying to find a word. - Interesting night… - she finally said and he chuckled, making her look up.

- Very interesting indeed... - he said putting his hands in his front pockets, pulling himself away from the counter and heading towards her. Y/n wanted to say goodbye and leave, run away as fast as possible. But she couldn't, every move he did was too tempting, so she just stood there watching him get closer and closer to her. He stopped in front of her and looked into her eyes, smiling slightly.

- What are you doing here? Do you work as a waiter at parties too? - Y/n asked curiously.

- My boss sometimes receives proposals for us to work at these rich parties... - he said with a shrug.

- Oh... Nice... - she said crossing her arms. - Well...Now I really have to go... - she said trying to get away from it one last time.

- Why did you really come here love? -Tom asked tilting his head a little to the side and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

- I told you, I was looking for the bathroom. -Y/n looked at his face trying to be firm, but saw that he still wore that smirk. Why did he have to be so confident like that?

- Oh sure... Just like you also looked for some excuse that day for me to leave, but failed miserably?- he asked making a thoughtful face and she still hadn't decided if she wanted to slap him or kiss him.

- Why did you leave without saying goodbye tho? - She asked ignoring what he had said.

- So that's why you came after me? Are you hurt that I didn't leave you a goodbye kiss? - he said pouting.

- Of course not, I just... I don't know, it would be nice to say that you were leaving and that you wouldn't stay for breakfast... - Y/n said looking to the side, avoiding those brown eyes that intimidated her.

- Darling, I'm not that type guy, sorry...

- What type of guy? - she still avoided looking at him.

- The type who stay for breakfeast. -he said taking a hand from her pocket and taking her chin gently, making her look at him. - But if you want some fun I'm at your disposal. -he said and she bit her lower lip lightly making him deviate his eyes towards her lips. - Do you want darling?- he asked quietly and Y/n seemed to be transfixed by her touch. She was surrendered, she couldn't deny it. Maybe even hypnotized.

- I...- she said with a little shaky voice. - I don't know...

- Yes or no?- he asked looking from her lips to her eyes and she felt her breath getting heavy.

- Yes...- she just spoke as a whisper and he smiled satisfied.

- How about you meet me in 15 minutes in the bathroom of the pool house? - He said and she just shook her head slowly. Tom released her chin and backed away slowly, not taking his eyes off her, and then walked away leaving her alone with her heart racing.

Y/n took a deep breath and tried to place herself in what had just happened. Did she really want this? Her mind could try to hear the voice of reason, but it was drowned out by her body's reaction. She wanted to feel him again.

She walked away quickly, passing several people who were talking loudly or who were already drunk. She looked around and saw the door that led to the back side and sneak there, getting out and feeling the slightly chilly night air, closing the sliding door behind her.

She saw the pool that had some people around it and a little further to the right a door that opened into another closed space. Probably the pool house. She walked over there, trying to hide it so no one would see her, and went inside. She closed the front door slowly and headed towards the bathroom.

The place was dark, with only the lights outside. So she was holding her hand into to some stuff until he found the door. She went in and turned on the light. The bathroom was spacious, with a large sink and a huge mirror in front of it. She closed herself off and looked at herself in the reflection.

That was crazy. She had never done that at parties. Not even when she was drunk. And now she was there, looking forward to what might happen. In fact she knew what was going to happen, just as she knew when she invited him up to her apartment that night. But even so, she felt butterflies in her stomach in anticipation.

After almost 10 minutes of waiting she heard the bathroom door open and she turned in the direction, feeling extremely anxious. Tom came in looking over his shoulder and closed the door soon after, looking at her with an opening grin. He locked the door slowly with one hand and came towards her in a hurry.

The next thing she felt was his lips pressing against hers urgently. He kissed her like it was the last thing he would do. Running her tongue over her lips asking permission and Y/n opened it slowly letting him explore her mouth with his burning tongue.

She ran her hand around the back of his neck pulling his hair and he responded by holding her waist tightly. Tom walked forward and she leaned her back against the sink counter. Making him lift her with agility, sitting her down on the cold surface and getting between her legs. She grunted in surprise against his mouth and he broke the kiss for air. Kissing from her neck to her collarbone and she closed her eyes feeling his touch.

- Tom... - she said in a low voice. - You won't get in trouble if you disappear like that? -he now kissed her neckline and squeezed her thigh with desire.

- Not if we're fast darling. -He spoke a bit husky, moving his kisses to her earlobe, biting lightly and she moaned low. - And despite loving your sounds, you will have to be silent. - He looked at her smiling maliciously. - Promise? -He spoke touching her nose with his lightly, looking at her closely, and she nodded making him attack her lips next.

Still kissing her he pulled the hem of her dress up a little and she bit his lip making him smile against the kiss. Her fingers reached her inner thigh and then moved up to her panties. Tom put the fabric aside with one of her fingers and passed one slowly at her entrance feeling her wetness.

- Always ready for me aren't you darling? -He said pulling his mouth away from hers, staying just a few centimeters away from her. She moaned softly again and he smiled as he pulled her fingers away and replaced them around her thighs pulling her closer to the edge of the sink.  He started to finger her really slowly and she bite her lips, trying to control her moaning. Tom keep his pace just watching her face squirm with pleasure. After seconds he removed his delicious fingers making her almost protest out loud, makind him smile even more. If wasn't for the rush he would definitively make his time with you.

Y/n then put his hands on the collar of his shirt and opened the first buttons. Kissing his neck with desire, making him squeeze her thighs in response. Biting her lips he unfastened his belt and then the buttons of his pants pulled them down along with his boxers, revealing his cock. He pulled her in for one more kiss before taking the condom package from his pocket and opening it, meanwhile Y/n was kissing uncovered place she could reach, from his face to his chest, opening more buttons of his shirt.

Tom adjusted the condom on his cock before taking a few thrusts. He moved even closer to her, if that was even possible, and gave her a peck.

- Ready? He spoke softly against her lips and she nodded almost in despair, wanting to feel him inside her more than anything.

He smiled once more and slid his cock easily as she was completely wet. Tom growled low against her ear and Y/n bit her lip so no sound could come out. He started to move, after she was more adjusted to his size, at first slowly and starting to increase his pace with each second.

-Fuck... - he cursed softly against her ear and she pulled the hair from his neck with one hand, while the other squeezed his shoulder. The more he increased the pace she felt as if she were coming off the ground. - So tight darling... - he said between small grunts. - Feels so good...

- Tom... - Y/n spoke and he increased the pace even more making her moan with the sudden sensation of pleasure and he muffled her sounds by sticking his lips on hers.

-Shh… - he said after moving his lips from hers and Y/n tried her best to keep the sounds to herself, but he filled her perfectly and made her feel so good that she couldn't help it. Tom smirked and put his hand over her mouth, covering her moans. - Can't contain yourself? -he said and kissed her neck giving light bites and hickeys. -You're so easy for me, love... Look at you...- he spoke in a low voice, while still holding his hand firm in her mouth and kissing below her ear. - So easy...- he said going faster, as if it were possible, and bit his lower lip trying to contain his own moans this time, touching his nose to her cheek.

- Please…- she managed to speak muffled against his hand, feeling her orgasm quickly building.

- I know sweetheart... - he said making her feel his heavy breath into her cheek. -I got you ...-he finally said and that was enough for her orgasm to release with force, making him also come right after her with one last muffled grunt against her neck. He continued to move slowly for a few more seconds, before coming to a complete stop. The two of them with their breaths out of control. Reaching their high.

After a few minutes Tom took his hand from her mouth and soon after took his member out of her slowly. The two were silent the entire time. Y/n felt empty as  soonTom walked away to clean up, still half dazed from all the pleasure she just felt. He cleaned himself up and discarded the condom, zipping his pants and turned around, buttoning his shirt right away. Y/n didn't take her eyes off every move he made and he smiled approaching her.

- Want some help darling? - he asked standing in front of her and she held in his arms before he helped her getting down from the sink. She felt a little dizzy and if it wasn't for him holding her she thought she would fall. - You're right? - he asked still holding her on her waist.

- Yes...Thank you... - she managed to say.

- Well, I have to go, before they notice that I'm gone... - he said, releasing her.

- Of course... - Y/n said. - Tom… - she didn't know what to say. It might be the second time they'd done this, but it still felt like it was the first and she felt somewhat embarrassed. Maybe because she wasn't used to casual sex.

- See you soon? - He said giving a quick kiss on her cheek, fixing his hair in the best way he could and winking as he walked away, going to the door and unlocking it. He got out and closed it behind him while she back staring into the mirror.

She took a deep breath and was trying to figure out what to do next. After cleaning her up she finally got out of there. She crawled to the door and managed to get through the party without the weird looks she thought everyone would send to her when they bumped into her. For some reason she thought everyone would know, but obviously not. She felt weird doing that at an party, it really wasn't like her. But why did she feel so good?

She looked around before heading out of the house, but she didn't find Tom in her vision and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She wanted to look at him one last time from afar, but at the same time she didn't. Maybe that was the last time they were going to do that. She didn't think she'd find him like this anywhere else, and she didn't intend to go to the bar he worked at just to get another night with him. Besides, that's what she was, just one night, just a "quickie" in the bathroom. And everything was fine. He was that for her too, so what did it matter?

For a moment she felt his head fill with ideas. Y/n had a perfect plot for her story now. She had to go home and get back to writing right away. Calling the driver from a distance, she practically ran towards the car.

[acourtofsnakes]

E’tad - Rogue, Chapter 9| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: You are going about your time in Nevarro, completely unaware of the struggle and frantic journey the Mandalorian is making. Will he get there in time?

Warnings: A bit of violence/swearing, mentions of death/blood, alcohol/drinking

AN: I’m really sorry that this chapter isn’t as gripping as the others.  I’ve been super overwhelmed lately and been struggling to get my ideas down into actual words. I’ve been working on this for way longer than the word count reflects and just wanted to get it out. You can still count on a cliffhanger ending though, of course ♥︎

Also, I’m sorry if there’s parts that aren’t canon. I definitely made up a couple of the planets and potentially bits of Nevarro. 

Not yet beta read.

Word Count: 4832

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad

Mando’a translation: E'tad - seven

You’d been in Nevarro for a few days now. 

Things were going... okay? 

No. Things were going well. Really well. You felt safer here, knowing that Cara and Greef were monitoring who was coming and going and making sure they posed no threat to you. 

There were a few tense moments, times when government officials came wandering past, but you always stayed hidden out of the way. 

No one looked twice at you here – and if they did, it wasn’t for long. 

When you first walked through the town, you found Cara and Greef waiting for you just inside the gates. 

They were kind, welcoming too. Greef took your bag and welcomed you to the planet, whilst Cara smiled at you and shook your hand. You sensed that she was strong, determined and loyal to her cause and friends. She had a kindness in her eyes though, and it put you at ease.

These were Mando’s friends. He trusted them to take care of you, so that meant you’d be able to trust them too. 

They had shown you around, giving you a tour of the places that you might need, like markets and small stores, but also the places to avoid. 

When you’d had your tour, they showed you to a quaint building a short walk away from the centre of town. 

There were only 4 floors to the building, and about 2 rooms on each floor. Stopping on the third floor, they had showed you where you’d be staying. 

Cara had apologised for it being more on the minimal side, but you’d shaken your head quickly. This was more than you’d had in… years. 

There was a little kitchenette area to prepare food, a lounge space with a slightly ragged looking armchair and table. To the right of the space was a curtained off sleeping area, containing a thin, but comfy looking cot and then just off of that a washing area. There was a decent-sized metal tub, big enough for you to be able to sit in and just extend your legs comfortably. 

It might not have been grand, or spacious but it was a home. A place to come back to at the end of the day and be safe. 

The two had left you to get settled, and you couldn’t help that sharp pang in your chest. 

The Razor Crest had become a… sort of home to you over the last few weeks. It’s softly lit corridors and spaces, things crammed in everywhere but all mostly organised… the little compartment that had been your – well, the Mandalorian’s, - bed. The cockpit, where you spent most of your days either bantering with Mando or sitting in comfortable silence. 

The kitchen area… his hands on your skin..

The weight of him behind you..

You missed him. And if you were honest, it still stung. That all of that had occurred between you and he was just getting rid of you. 

No, maybe that wasn’t the right phrase. And nothing had really happened between you. Just an outpouring of tension. Besides, he was so warm, maybe he had been running a fever. 

Mando had said that it was the only way to keep you safe. 

And you knew that you were also attracting attention onto him and Grogu. 

It still didn’t stop it from hurting any less. 

~~~~~~~~~

-----7 Days Left-----

The Mandalorian made it back to his ship in record time. He didn’t waste precious minutes explaining to Peli. Just stating he had to go, thank you for the repairs and the last few days. 

Seven days. He just seven days to get back, grab you, and flee. 

Easy. He could do that easily. 

Right?

He gave her a handful of credits, promising to come back soon. 

He probably came across as rude, but he just couldn’t afford to wait. 

You would have been on Nevarro for a little over a week now. He’d been with Peli for a good few days, and the travelling here had cost him about a day and a bit. 

You were probably settled. 

Maybe even.. happy?

His instincts were always right, and they were telling him that this guy, Haran, the shadow of Hell, had meant every single word. That if he found you before Mando did, you would never return. 

Even if that happened, the Mandalorian would tear apart the galaxy to find you. There wouldn’t be a corner of space that Haran could hide that Mando wouldn’t get to. He would kill anyone who stood in his way, anyone who stopped him from reaching you. 

The force of his determination nearly took his breath away as he switched on the ship, the engines roaring to life

Moments later, he was leaving Tatooine. 

“I’m coming for you.”

~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

After that initial first week of settling in, you found that things improved a great deal. 

You knew your way around almost 100%, and frequently took walks around the town. 

Cara had reassured you that you wouldn’t have to hide here, but on busier days it would be best to keep your hood up. 

Just in case. 

Despite the threat of someone slipping through their watchful eyes, you relaxed. 

You worked with Cara sometimes during the days, going along with her for her Marshal duties and keeping things in order.

Other days, you spent time with Greef. You found him to be sort of… like an uncle in attitude. He was reassuring, and you enjoyed spending time with the both of them. 

You’d even begun to help out in the local school. Karga had suggested it one day, mentioning in passing how the teaching droids might benefit with a pair of extra eyes and hands. 

After making a few helpful comments, you had somehow established yourself as a teacher of survival. Not in the sense of, ‘this is how to disarm a bounty hunter who is coming at you whilst you’re sleeping., but more in the vein of, “Here’s how to find fresh water and a place to sleep.” 

The kids loved it, especially when you staged imaginary scenarios for them and had them running about the place or creeping through ‘the undergrowth’.

It felt good. To be using these skills you’d been forced to learn for something positive, something that the kids enjoyed. 

~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

-----5 Days Left-----

Of course he had to stop for fuel. 

He had forgotten to ask Peli to fill it up before he left. Mainly because they couldn’t get out there when the sandstorm had hit, and then because he had left so quickly. 

He wanted to punch himself. 

Maybe he would. It might make him feel better. 

The Mandalorian stopped at the next closest planet, barely having turned the engines off before he was climbing out of the cockpit and making his way through the ship, Grogu secured in his little bag. 

He was halfway down the ramp when he looked over his shoulder, to check that you and Duru were behind him. 

Only to stop short, because you were no longer with him. Remember?

He sighed, ignoring the wrench of his heart and he walked through the landing bay. 

A quick search revealed a man in a fuel operatives’ uniform. 

Relief flooded Mando’s senses, and he hurried over, “Excuse me, would you be able to fill my ship? I’m sorry but I’m really in a hurry.”

The man looked up, wiping his hands on his uniform and he came over to Mando. “The Crest that just landed? Sure, I can fill her up right away, sir.” 

Moments later, he had hooked up the necessary pipes and the ship was being pumped full of fuel. 

It didn’t stop him from pacing though, checking the time on the large display inside the landing bay. 

He was full of frantic energy, and he should probably stop pacing because he was going to make Grogu sick. 

The operative looked up, tilting his head a little, “Forgive me, sir, but you look awful jittery. Is something wrong?”

The Mandalorian spun on the spot, looking at the man suspiciously.

Was he working for Haran? Was this a distraction? 

Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. 

Grogu gurgled at his side, and he didn’t need to bother translating. He was being stupid; the kid was right. 

Mando sighed, curling his hands into fists and then uncurling them to try and release some tension. “Have you ever heard of the Shadow of Death?” 

The man cursed, dropping the tool he was holding. He looked around quickly, his colourful face going pale with fear, “Sir! I beg you, please do not speak that name. Even mentioning it can summon him here.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hide the surprise form his voice, “You believe in him then?”

The worker nodded slowly, motioning Mando over. When he was close enough, the man said quietly, “I’ve seen his… work.”

A chill skittered over Mando’s bones, “You’ve seen… someone he’s killed?”

A green sheen had come over the operatives face, “Yes, sir. I’ve seen it firsthand and I still wake up screaming even today.”

The Mandalorian tilted his head, “Many people believe he’s a myth, thought up by the darkest of people to cover their tracks.”

“That creature is not a myth, sir. He came for my sister and her family. She ran, but he was waiting at the safe house for her.” The man’s eyes became hazy with memory. “I don’t know how he knew. She had told no one where she was going. Not even me. They had never uttered the location aloud, not even to each other. They wrote it down. Just in case he was in the walls, listening.” The man swallowed roughly once, twice.

“When we got there, there was nothing left to bury. Just clothes, a few strands of hair and blood coating the walls. It was like something from a nightmare. There were only a few… chunks left of them. They could never identify who was who.” He heaved a little, then turned grave eyes onto the Mandalorian.

“If you know someone he wants, you’d be best of killing them yourselves. It would be a lot kinder.”

~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

-----2 Days Left-----

The Mandalorian was getting frantic. 

And with his frantic haste, came messiness. 

He didn’t know it was taking him so damn long to get to Nevarro. He should have been there three days ago. Hell, he should never have left you there. 

There had been a nebula on the way out of the planet. It hadn’t come up on his radar until the last moment and he had to swerve to get around it, which cost him a detour he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t risk jumping into hyperspeed until he was clear either. 

Though it had taken too long, he eventually cleared it. 

He was close, so close. He’d been about to make the jump when two X-wing’s had come out of nowhere and started to chase him down. He’d tried to get them away, tried to shake them off but they’d forced him down into some icy planet. 

He’d nearly crashed the ship, nearly lost Grogu because the little womp rat decided to climb out of his seat as Mando tried to land and then the engines had cut out because they got too cold. 

And now he was cold. Fucking freezing in fact. 

Tracking through the snow and the ice, looking for the two pilots to get rid of them so he could be back on his way to finding you. 

With each movement of the sun, he became more and more painfully aware of how slow he was. 

He was never this slow. Never this sloppy. He needed to calm down and clear his head, but the words of the fuel operative kept ringing in his head. 

“That creature is not a myth, sir. He came for my sister and her family. She ran, but he was waiting at the safe house for her. 

When we got there, there was nothing left to bury. Just clothes, a few strands of hair and blood coating the walls. 

If you know someone he wants, you’d be best of killing them yourselves. It would be a lot kinder.”

He gritted his teeth as a shudder shook his body, and not from the cold. 

You wouldn’t end up like that. 

He’d find you. You would be fine. 

Noise broke through his thoughts, the sounds of the pilots and he slipped behind a snowpile and sunk down to wait. 

~~~~~~~~~

Okay. So maybe the last few days weren’t going as well as they could have been. 

You were embarrassed to admit it, but at least two of them were spent drunk, and the third was spent in a state of hungover blurriness. 

Pinpointing the exact trigger was hard. 

It might have been the horrific nightmares that begun 4 days ago, or it might have been the conversation you had with Cara that day. 

You’d been sitting in the cantina, just talking after a day of work and she had begun to ask about your past. Nothing invasive, nothing forcing you to answer but something in you had wanted to spill some of the burden. 

She’d asked you where you learned your survival skills, and you thought about lying but… something stopped you. So, you’d told her. At least, as much as you could without revealing the real reason. 

You told her about the murder of your parents. How the market had been attacked that day, and you could do nothing to stop them dying. 

You told her how you’d run, spending two days hiding in a waste dump, crying and vomiting with fear and the horror of what you’d seen. How you’d dragged yourself out, and started your journey of planet hopping and hitching rides. 

Cara had asked what you did to get people coming after you, and you simply told her they thought you’d been responsible for the market attack, and the murders of the friends you’d made because people always seemed to die around you. 

You told her how it had forced you to not be able to trust anyone, to only be able to rely on yourself and how you had to learn to survive. 

It hadn’t been easy. You had made yourself sick countless times, including one really bad week where you ate some questionable vegetables and spent four days in a hallucinating stupor, convinced you were dying. 

She’d laughed at that and returned the favour by telling you about her shock trooper days. The fact they were dumped in on their own to hunt the warlords, being exposed to horrors that only you and few others could understand. 

The pair of you had spent the evening sharing stories, dancing around the subject of a certain beskar-clad hunter and his child. You couldn’t go there, couldn’t talk about it. 

She probably gathered all the information she needed from your lack of response though, by the look in her eye and the smirk when she mentioned him. 

That night might have been the cause of the horrific nightmare where you were convinced you’d just watched the Mandalorian and Grogu be torn to shreds by your own power. You’d woken up screaming, tasting their blood like that night and barely made it to the small bathroom area before vomiting. 

That was the last night you’d remembered before getting drunk. 

You supposed you were ashamed of yourself. 

You were giving in to feelings you’d spent years repressing.

You were wallowing. 

You’re hurting. You’re allowed to let go of the pain sometimes, to feel it. You can’t keep going like the ice queen all the time.  

How you hated that inner voice of reason. 

~~~~~~~~~

-----1 Day left-----

His gloves were soaked with melted snow, sticking to his skin and freezing again instantly, no matter how many times he tried to warm them. It made his movements slow and fumbly as he desperately worked to fix the engine of his ship. 

He’d tried to take off as soon as he’d gotten rid of the pilots, but as soon as he’d started the engines, they died with no more than a puff of smoke. 

They were frozen. 

Snow and ice had gotten into the rotors and they wouldn’t start long enough for him to heat them up. 

He was stuck here. 

Grogu was freezing. 

Mando had left him inside the cockpit with the doors shut, bundled in all the blankets he could find in the ship. The heaters weren’t working, and the backup generator barely provided enough heat to stop the windows from icing over. 

He made a frustrated noise as he dropped his tools, stooping down to scoop them out of the snow. 

He had to get this working. He had to fix this and get to you. 

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you rose, dressed and returned to work. 

You apologised for your previous behaviour and threw yourself into your daily tasks with a determination that might have been bordering on insanity. 

You were eager to wipe away the shame of the past few days, so you spent the day doing every single job you could find and more. Even going out into the town on your lunch break to help around the markets and local small stores. 

It kept the thoughts at bay, the guilt and the shame, and also the relentless longing that plagued you. 

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

-----12 hours left-----

The sun had set long ago. 

He was working by the small light on his helmet now. 

It was barely enough to see in front of his face, but he couldn’t stop. Even though he couldn’t feel his feet, or his hands. Or any of his body, actually.

He couldn’t let you die. 

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the end of the day. 

You had just finished your work, helping Cara with maintaining things around town, dealing with the odd shady traveller that passed through looking for trouble. 

She knew your skills, that you were ruthless, quick and knew your way around a blade well enough to scare someone off. 

It was why you had started training with her a few days ago, before the drunken haze. 

You’d showed up to her office after a night of screaming dreams, shattered, wound up and tense. 

She’d taken one look at you, then taken you out the back to a big empty plot and begun to train with you. And it had worked. Sparring with someone and having to focus had helped you channel that anxious energy. 

It was a regular occurrence now, which was why you were engaged in another session with her. 

Greef had come to watch this afternoon, and sat on one of the huge, jagged hunks of rock that littered the volcanic planet. 

It didn’t put you off, you were too focused as you ducked under Cara’s punch, twirling around her body and delivering a sharp kick to her kidneys that had her coughing. You couldn’t help the chuckle, lightly springing back a few steps as she spun to face you, “Oh come on, you practically invited me to kick you.”

Cara rolled her eyes, advancing toward you, “And you were foolish enough to take it.” She flew into another attack on you, which you matched punch for punch, like you knew the moves she was going to take without her saying. 

You wondered if it had something to do with your power, some instinct from it. You still felt its presence more often than not lately, since that night it had helped you save the Mandalorian. You’d tried to push it back, but it was calling to you more and more recently. 

Shaking the thoughts free of your head, you focused back on fighting, pouring everything into it and letting go of all that nervous energy. 

You practically floated across the ashy ground, moving around her like you were breathing. 

It wasn’t quite the choreographed, effortless fighting you and Mando had engaged in, but it was still something. 

Dimly, you heard Greef laugh, clapping. “I never quite knew what Mando meant when he told us you fought like you were dancing, but I completely understand now.”

You froze, just managing to lift a hand and block Cara’s swing to your face, “What? He said that?” You looked over your shoulder, eyebrows raised in shock.

Karga nodded quickly, “Oh, yes! When he was telling us about the first time you met, and when you saved his life. He said he’d met more fighters in his life than he could remember, but you stood out most of all. ‘She fights like she’s dancing. Like she’s moving to a song of death only she can hear. It was mesmerising’ That’s what he told us.”

Mesmerising.

He’d really said that about you? Complimented you like that to his friends when you weren’t around?

It made your heart constrict and a sort of warm feeling spread through your veins. 

Unfortunately, it also made you distracted. 

Which gave Cara the opportunity to slam her knee into your back and knock you to the ground. “Stop getting doe-eyed over the Mandalorian and focus.” She was laughing, standing over you. 

Your cheeks flushed slightly but you snarled, flipping on your back and pulling out her ankles. “I don’t get doe-eyed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

-----2 hours left---

The Mandalorian had never been this cold. 

He was still outside, and a snowstorm had begun now. 

His poor visibility was even worse, and it seemed to take him twice as long to do anything. 

It was like the commands he sent from his brain to his hands were slogging through the thick snow. 

His armour had long since frozen over, and every time he moved, ice cracked and fell from the crevice’s. 

He didn’t know how long he could do this for. 

He didn’t know if Grogu was still alive. 

He didn’t know if you were still alive. 

Haran may have gone back on his words and come after you anyway. You might have been dead for days already. 

No. 

No, he couldn’t let himself think that. 

He had to keep going. He had to… 

He had to rest…

He was cold. So very cold that he almost felt warm. 

A mournful cry of wind shot through him, sucking the little energy from his body in a sub-zero blast and his knees gave out, dumping him in the snow. 

Get up. 

He couldn’t. 

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

“Good fighting today. You were a lot more focused. Well, mostly.” Cara leaned against the doorway to your building, crossing her arms and grinning again. 

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks so much. The bruise I have on my back will forever remind me of your compliments.” 

She laughed, raising an eyebrow, “And the pain in my kidney’s will remind of yours.” She tilted her head, watching you, “Why did it throw you so much?”

You pretended not to know what she was talking about, “Me kicking you in the kidneys?”

Cara gave you a deadpan look, knowing what you were doing, “No. What Greef said about Mando. You looked shocked.”

You swallowed, looking down and pretending to examine your boots and you pulled out an easy shrug, “I just didn’t expect a compliment like that from him. The first time we fought, we were both trying to kill each other, and the second time he saw me, he was half-unconscious. I didn’t think he remembered.”

Whether she saw through your lie or not, she thankfully didn’t press it. “Well… He can shock you sometimes, trust me.” She stood up straight, pushing away from the wall “I’ll see you later for dinner?”

Relief flooded through you and you nodded, able to meet her gaze now, “Sure, dinner sounds great. I’ll come by after a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

-----0 Hours Left-----

He was too late.

~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

You were still thinking about what Greef said as you made your way into the cantina, Duru asleep back in your room.  

It had become a popular haunt for you whilst being here. You wondered if you might be starting to have a problem. 

But the chatter of the different people and creatures provided an ambiance that kept the wandering thoughts at bay. 

When you were alone and still, you had a habit of straying to the Mandalorian and Grogu. 

His last words kept echoing in your head, that you might see each other soon. 

When, Lori? Soon isn’t close enough.

You sighed to yourself as you slid onto a seat at the bar. You seriously needed to have an intervention with yourself. You didn’t pine like this. You didn’t get soft and sentimental. 

You couldn’t afford to, not the way you lived. 

But we aren’t on the run anymore. At least not like we used to be…

You ignored that voice in your head, the one that threatened to speak sense. Luckily, the droid that was serving as the bartender came over, placing your usual drink in front of you. 

You nodded in thanks, pulling it toward you. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing that the droid knew your drink without asking. 

Then again… it was a droid. It was probably built into its hardware. It didn’t mean that you were an alcoholic. Although, your drunken stupor went against that argument. 

You brushed your hand over the bar in front of you, getting rid of the layer of volcanic ash that settled over everything. Every night you found it in your hair, under your clothes and even in your boots. It didn’t bother you much though. Over the years, you’d become used to it, being covered in dirt or grime. 

Except when you were on the Crest. 

You shook your head slightly at yourself. You weren’t going to go there. 

You could do what you wanted to on the Crest. You didn’t have to be covered in dirt or ash or mud. You were clean. Rested. Warm. 

Do not go there. 

You had company. Friends, even. 

You blew out a breath, taking a big gulp of your drink. It didn’t matter now anyway. You were here. You didn’t know how long you were to stay for, but this was your new… home. 

But it doesn’t feel like home. It’s not cosy. It doesn’t smell the same. You can’t hear the sounds of the engine, or Grogu or Mando. 

Maker, you had to find a way to shut that voice up. Maybe you’d knocked something lose back when you fought the guy with a tail. Things hadn’t been right in your head since then. 

Since you saved the Mandalorian’s life?

“Shut up!!” You didn’t realise you’d hissed the words out loud until a nearby trader gave you a funny look. 

Brilliant, now you looked drunk or possibly crazy. 

You dropped your head into your hands, rubbing your eyes. You needed to get over yourself.

And the Mandalorian. 

When you lifted your glass back to your lips, you noticed that your drink was already done. 

Whoops. Definitely looking more drunk than crazy now.

You looked up, raising your hand for another drink regardless and when the droid placed it in front of you, you slid over the required credits. 

Only for it to push them back, “Your drinks have already been paid for, miss.” 

You blinked in confusion at its monotone voice, “By who? I asked Cara and Greef not to touch my tab.” You had wanted to pay for it yourself. They refused to take any money in payment for you room, so you had managed to negotiate any expenses you racked up elsewhere – such as here. 

The droid looked at you with its expressionless robotic face, “They were not paid for by Marshal Dune or Greef Karga. Please, take the credits.”

You reached out, slowly dragging them back and putting them back inside the inside pocket of your cloak, “Who paid for it then?” You couldn’t help the insistent tone to your voice, even if it would be lost on the droid. 

Before it could answer, your question was answered. 

“I did.” 

The voice that came from behind you was silken, rising over the din background noise of the cantina. It caressed over your bones, those two simple words dripping like honey. Something tugged inside of you, pulled at that buried kernel of power. 

You turned on your stool, looking for the owner of such a magnetic voice. 

There, behind you, sat a figure. 

Decked in an expensive looking cloak lined with golden thread, lounging back in his seat like he didn’t have a care in the world. You could see the edge of a hilt peeping above broad shoulders, something drawing you to look at it but you couldn’t see it properly. 

You blinked again, raising an eyebrow, “Sorry?”

The figure leant forward, “I paid for your drinks.” He lifted a pair of gloved hands and pushed back his hood. 

Previous chapter| Next chapter

[ofaprilflowers]

- part 2: home? - 

warnings: descriptions of injuries, not too detailed.

tags: shout out to my first-ever requested tags, @sista7-7​  @softieus​ and @marrambles​ yay! Thank you for reading and sorry for the late update TT. Hope you guys enjoy :)

disclaimers: I am not a medical professional, this is all part of my imagination and totally made-up therefore is in no way accurate. If you find any part I could improve on, do tell. I would appreciate the feedback. Other than that, enjoy! <3

previous/next

It took another week for me to finally be discharged. A week of rehabilitation and physiotherapy (which Dr. Hwang said would be continued after my discharge TT). I had lost strength in my extremities and also my sense of balance. This, I found out after almost falling down right on my face when I attempted to climb out of bed for the first time. Almost, well because thankfully, he was there. 

My parents had arrived the night I woke up. My mother immediately cupping my face, tears brimming in her eyes while my father just took my hand in his and smiled every time I looked his way. 

It felt surreal, honestly. My family and I were close. But we were not exactly the type to be crying and holding each other, or professing our love for each other. We were the laugh-at-each-other’s-life-problems-cuz-I-had-it-worse-than-you type of family. Then again, for me it felt like I was waking up from a long nap, while for them, they didn’t know whether I would make it or not so, fair enough.

Turns out, the accident was pretty bad. My head had to be stitched up and so now there was a nasty gash above my left eye (it was definitely gonna scar but let’s not think about that right now). My arms where full of cuts and scrapes from the broken windshield. My legs and chest, badly bruised. Dr. Hwang said they had healed fairly well in the past two weeks, but I still cringed at how ugly they looked every time I caught a glimpse. He also mentioned that I was lucky not to have sustained any other serious injuries other than my head trauma. I was grateful of course, but losing my memory was deleterious enough. 

I woke up every morning feeling confused as to why the heck I was at a hospital and it took a few groggy minutes to remember. Sometimes it took seeing Jaehyun- either curled up asleep on the armchair or standing next to the window with a cup of coffee in hand- for me to come crashing back into reality. 

I learnt through my mother- who had attempted to fit the past 2 weeks of my unconsciousness along with the last 6 years into a 2 day crash-course- that Jaehyun was the only one who stayed at the hospital every day and night. My mother had stayed the first week, as my condition stabilised however, she opted to visiting daily. That also depended on whether my father was available to drive her 45 minutes to the hospital from home. You see, my parents were rational people, but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of hurt. I mean I was laying unconscious on a hospital bed yet there were still other important stuff to be handled. Well, as they say, life goes on, right? Kind of made me think if I had just hallucinated the tears brimming in her eyes the other day.

While my mother would babble on about looking on the bright side and starting my life again, Jaehyun’s presence was like having a burden be lifted. I know I’ve lived most of our “acquaintence-ship” hating him, but I made a mental note to properly thank him for this in particular. On every occasion that my head felt like it was about to burst from the overwhelming information my mother was flooding me with, he’d interject, naturally bringing her focus to something other than trying to piece me back together. Often times he’d ask her to join him for a cup of coffee, or show her things he was currently working on. I’d close my eyes then and pretend to fall asleep.

“So, you’re saying, I should continue my life ‘as normal as possible’. Meaning?” We (the doctor and I) were currently in his office. By tomorrow morning I was finally leaving. Goodbye to the sanitary, boring hospital, hello to......well, life?

The doctor had explained all the procedures and follow-up appointments that were to come. Both to Jaehyun and I. Then, we talked about going home and that’s when I realised, home had changed. I don’t know how we had avoided addressing it, or maybe I was the only one in denial of it. I mean throughout the week after regaining consciousness, although Jaehyun was there, we barely talked. Mostly because I became a selective mute, and he, well I guess he was respecting my space?

Dr. Hwang had noticed the awkward silence that had passed after he mentioned about going home and quickly changed the subject, calling in a nurse to guide Jaehyun in signing my discharge papers or something. After he left, the doctor didn’t hesitate in putting on what I call his “uncle-face”.

“As normal as possible, meaning that it’s better if you return to your daily routines prior to the accident,” he explained for the nth time.

I fidgeted in my seat. “But, wouldn’t that cause me more distress? It’s a life a barely know.” “Astrid,” he began, straightening his back. “I understand how hard it my be for you to wrap you head around all this. 6 years is a lot. But it is your life. Your experiences and memories throughout that period were real, and you deserve to remember them. You need to give your life a chance.”

Well, damn. He had a point. He should’ve been a therapist instead.

“And, what if my memories don’t come back?” I prodded.

“Well then, at least maybe you’ll learn more about yourself.” Okay, then. Here we go, Astrid.

We live in a loft?!?!

Pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head but wow.

Eyes wandering around the space, I tried to take in everything at once. This was certainly NOT what I had expected. This can’t be real right? I must absolutely be dreaming.

“Welcome...home?” Jaehyun said.

My head snapped in his direction, mouth agape. He smiled sheepishly, his infamous dimples popping out, his hands tucked into his jean pockets, his shoulders lifted briefly. He looked like a child, shyly presenting to the world his greatest creation. I almost smiled. Almost. 

“You like it?” he asked.

I scoffed. “For real?”

My eyes turned back to the space he had referred to as home. Well, it didn’t feel like home (yet. Remember Astrid we’re giving this a chance), but yes, I absolutely love it!

I took in my surroundings again and this time, couldn’t help the smile that crept up my cheeks. 

The space was gorgeous. It was big, but not huge. It was small, but not tiny. It was spacious enough to have everything and more. There was an L-shaped sofa that could probably fit 5 or maybe even 7 people if squeezed in together. There were even 2 more smaller ones in front of it. Perfect for a small gathering. Opposite the living room was a kitchen, with a small kitchen island. God, I’ve always dreamed of having an island. There was another floor and at the stairs leading up to it were ceiling-high windows with a bumped-out seat, all set with pillows on one end and potted plants on the other. It looked like the perfect spot to read or stargaze at night. I walked into the living room, the brick walls were covered in framed movie posters and artwork, some smaller frames containing pictures which I guessed were probably a collection of memories.

I stepped closer and caught a glimpse of some familiar faces in unfamiliar settings. One photo caught my eye. It was a photo I remember, taken earlier this ye- I mean well, early 2017, right after graduation. I was sandwiched between Jungwoo and Ten, holding up a peace sign to the camera. Jaehyun on Jungwoo’s other side, hand around the latter’s shoulders. Others in the picture smiling widely, so many poses, so many expressions. Literally, it felt like yesterday. 

“You remember that?” Jaehyun probed. 

I smiled. “Yeah, just a couple weeks before Taeil’s birthday bash, right?”

Then, something flickered in my mind. Of Jaehyun, smirking at a table with his friends, of them exchanging words and laughter, of me hearing something I probably shouldn’t have. Jaehyun had many circles of friends, being the typical extroverted, super-friendly campus sweetheart. This circle was one I wasn’t quite familiar with, least to say I didn’t really like them. I felt my cheeks heat up as my blood boiled at the thought of that memory.

“You wanna see upstairs?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back into reality. I turned to look at him. He was standing right next to me, looking almost exactly the same as the Jaehyun I knew. The Jaehyun that I couldn’t stand being in the same room with. The Jaehyun that always had a competitive, mischievous glint in his eye. The Jaehyun that would take every chance he got to argue with everything I said. The Jaehyun that made me feel like I had to defend everything I had. 

There was a slight difference, though. The competitive, mischievous glint was somehow...softer. It made me confused, because I was angry, but looking at him now, I don’t know who to be angrier at. Me, or him?

“Ummm, I think, I just- I just wanna lie down,” I tore my eyes away from him and took a step back, putting just a little more distance between him and I.

I saw his fists clench and unclench a bit at his sides. A moment passed until he said, “Yeah. Sure,” walking back towards the doors he picked up my hospital bag and gestured towards a room behind him.

“This is actually, um, our bedroom, but don’t worry, I’ve moved most of my stuff upstairs so this space is all yours,” dropping the bags on the bed, he stepped aside to allow me in. It was a beautiful room, with slanted windows, decorated with some more plants. 

“So, feel free to look around, get used to the place and all. Oh yeah, um, this is the bathroom,” he opened a door on the left of the room, then gestured toward a closet in front of the bed, “Your pyjamas are in the top drawer and, uh, well, um, everything else is-”

“I’ll take a look,” I smiled at him briefly.

His eyes landed on mine for a moment, then quickly looked away. 

“Yeah, okay, so um, I’ll be outside, if you need anything just, um,” his hands, one scratching at the back of his neck, the other gesturing undecidedly, “yeah.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied. He stood there for a second, then turned to leave the room.

“Jeahyun?”

“Hmm?” he snapped his head towards me, eyebrows lifted in question.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

I saw a bit of tension leave his body. “You don’t need to thank me, Astrid,” he replied softly. “This is- this is your home too.” With a tight-lipped smile, he closed the door behind him.

[tonystarkbingo]

3 Prompt Summaries - August Party

Blanket, spots, book - suggested by @rebelmeg

@somesortofitalianroast - On days when things are too much, Bucky could be found curled up in an armchair in Steve’s living room, with a few blankets and a book or two. And sometimes the cat that was seen running around the property, the white one with the black spots.

@Magicadraconia16 - Somehow, despite catching every other little bug going, Steve had never managed to get chickenpox. The Avengers discovered this the hard way when he woke up one day absolutely covered in red, itchy spots. And thanks to the serum not allowing him to take any medicine for it, then he was stuck on the sofa, miserably wrapped in a blanket as he read book after book in an attempt to take his mind off the itching. (Spoiler: it didn't work)

@rebelmeg - Avengers reading night. The power went out, but nobody cares, because Tony produced a dozen of the softest polka for blankets, enough candles for a Gothic romance, and now it's just a giant cuddle puddle in the library.

@ariasfandom - Tony smiled as he watched Bucky with their kids curled up in blankets. Peter was in his spot, and Bucky was silently reading a book with a smile

@weigheddownbyfandoms - Wherever Peter had a big sensory overload, he would hide out in his favourite spot in the ceiling at the tower with the softest blanket ever (given to him by Tony of course) and a book MJ had recommended

Lipstick, grass, curry - suggested by @magicadraconia16

@somesortofitalianroast - It was the lipstick stains Steve found the hardest to get out of clothing. Grass, curry, tomato sauce, red wine? All easy. Lipstick, though? Not so much.

@rebelmeg - "who brings curry on a picnic?" tony asked indignantly as he started pulling items out of the picnic basket.  pepper just grinned at him from where she was lying with her strawberry-blonde hair spread across the grass, her red lipstick teasing him in the best way.  "i was running late and asked bruce to pack the basket for me."

@i-let-the-wine-go-to-my-head - The red lipstick had been Peter’s favorite. He got it from Pepper during one of their late night talks on the grass by the lake. He knew the avengers would not judge him for it, but he still felt nervous. Curry night may not have been the best night to wear it, but he had it on already. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the room.

@polizwrites - Tony grimaced as he lay back on yet another wet spot on the blanket.  They’d only worked their way up to page 8 of the Kama Sutra, and his super-soldier boyfriend was already reading ahead…

If you’re interested in joining us for a game like this, pop by the Discord this Saturday the 25th, because we’re having another party!

[dearest-bucky]

That don’t impress me much (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sometimes fancy dates with fancy people and fancy flowers are not enough to make someone fall in love.

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: none for this one really, just cuteness hihi

A/N: This is loosely inspired by the song with the same title by Shania Twain. I really hope you like it. 

A/n 2: One or two days before my old blog got deleted I got an anonymous request that was in the kind of in the same lines of this story but I will still write it because I will mix it with something else to create a different story. Okay so this was just a reminder for the anon (who probably doesn’t even follow me here lol) that I haven’t forgotten their request and I will have it posted right after I’m finished reposting all my old stories. 

Originally posted: February 27, 2020

“Okay Dad America, he’s here so I got to head out.” She pecked Steve’s cheek lightly, leaving a pinkish mark of lipstick in his skin and headed out of the compound.

“Don’t wait up for me.” She jokingly called behind her shoulder and then she was out of the door.

Steve and Natasha chuckled in unison at her antics, meanwhile Bucky who was pretending to be invested in his book, huffed in annoyance.

She looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a navy blue long sleeved dress and black sandals. Her make up was as always on fleek and she was ready to make any man in New York fall in love with her.

It was yet another date for her, they were becoming a recurring thing lately and Bucky absolutely hated seeing her dressed up to the nines and  leaving with another man that wasn’t him. Despite his annoyance, he was trying to keep the focus on his book, but miserably failing anyway.

“You know you could always ask her out and then you won’t have to see her run off to another man’s arms.” Natasha stated matter of fact.

Bucky just rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“She’s right Buck.” It was Steve’s turn to speak.

This time the brunet closed his book in annoyance and got up from his spot on the couch.

“Like you two know anything…” His words were out in a mumbling voice all the while he was walking out of the common room, more than relieved to be out of the overwhelming presence of the Black Widow and his punk best friend.

Of course he hated seeing y/n go out on these dates, and he absolutely hated all the guys she dated. They were all too sophisticated and rich and they smelled like money from far away. The good thing was that y/n never liked any of them that much as to offer them a second date, but for how long? Bucky was sure someone would soon come along and steal her heart if he didn’t do something about it, but how could he tell her he had feelings for her? How could he compare to any of those other guys?

Sure, being an Avenger and living in the compound meant Tony was always stuffing their bank accounts, but Bucky felt like he couldn’t even get to the level of those guys, not only financially, but also emotionally. He could never offer y/n what they could. He could never make her happy like one of them could. And that’s why he kept his mouth shut.

*

Another failed date. Y/n realized it as soon as she entered her date’s car. He handed her a big bouquet of red roses, that was way too exaggerated for her liking and kissed her cheek lightly.

She smiled but she couldn’t help feeling she was just wasting her time.

Men always went out of their way with surprises and gifts, like pearly jewelry or in this case overly expensive bouquets of roses, thinking she would appreciate the materials and fall for them or something. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get a normal date. Possibly one with a certain handsome broody super soldier.

She kept going on these dates with these men trying to make Bucky jealous, desperately hoping he would say something, but she never got a reaction from him. Maybe he just didn’t like her that way.

Maybe all of her attempts to get his attention hadn’t worked.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat by the unpleasant thoughts and smiled sweetly at her date. She had to at least look like she was having a good time.

The ride to the restaurant was short and she was thankful for that. But when they set foot inside the place, y/n immediately felt suffocated by the stuffy atmosphere. That place screamed expensive, with the crystal chandeliers and porcelain plates.

While she enjoyed the nice food and everything, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the possibility of Bucky being with her there. Maybe they wouldn’t be there at all anyway. She knew how much Bucky hated the crowded places and she knew she would enjoy being with him anywhere, it didn’t matter how classy or expensive the place was.

“So I’m hoping next time we could escape for a whole weekend in my cabin in Vermont.” Mark was already making plans for a second date and y/n couldn’t wait for this first one to be over. He was so sure in himself it made y/n laugh at his face.

“I’ll let you know if I’m free.” She replied politely, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude with him.

They skipped desserts after y/n pretended she wasn’t feeling all that well and he drove her back to the compound again. When he stopped the car outside the building, he got close to y/n, trying to get a kiss from her, but at the last moment she shifted her face and his lips met her cheek.

Mark sighed quietly but smiled nonetheless.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a good time.” Y/n spoke almost too quickly, wanting this to be over already. “Good night.” With a small smile she opened the door of the car and got off.

“Don’t forget the flowers.” Mark called after her animatedly.

She turned around and picked the heavy bouquet. “Sure, we don’t want to forget the flowers.” The words were hushed out under her breath and she bid him good night for the second time before going inside.

It was only a couple minutes past ten, so she was surprised to see that nobody was in the common areas. She entered the dark kitchen with a sigh and put the bouquet on the counter, then headed to the fridge to get a frozen yogurt.

Only when the light of the refrigerator illuminated the place, did she notice a silhouette sitting unmoving in one of the armchairs, head hanging low.

Y/n gasped loudly, despite being an Avenger she was scared easily and immediately turned the light on, seeing Bucky sleeping uncomfortably in the chair.

He woke up by the noise she made and locked eyes with her.

“Hey, you’re home early.” He said after checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling too great.”

Bucky’s eyes averted from her face to the giant bouquet of red roses and he shook his head slightly. “That’s a really big bouquet.”

Y/n chuckled, not totally calm yet.

“Yeah, I thought that too.”

They stared at each other’s eyes for a little too long for y/n’s liking. Bucky made her feel nervous and every time he looked into her eyes it seemed as if he was able to read her every secret thought.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to compose herself, before talking to him again.

“So where is everyone else?”

“Steve and Sam got called on a mission. Tony is in his lab with Bruce and Vision. And the girls went out for drinks I think.”

Y/n felt a little bad for Bucky being left alone. No matter how much time passed he still wouldn’t be 100% comfortable around Tony and vice versa, so with every person left in the compound being with him, Bucky felt like he should just step away.

“We can watch a movie together if you want?” She offered without really thinking.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her words, and she took that for having stepped a boundary or something, so she quickly added “If you don’t want to go back to sleep that is, or if you just don’t want then that’s okay too. I just meant that it’s just us…”

She started rambling and she wouldn’t be stopping any time soon if it wasn’t for Bucky interrupting her.

“I would love to watch a movie with you, y/n.”

She blushed at his words and then nodded her head.

“Okay, great! Just give me ten minutes to get out of this dress and into some comfy pjs and I’ll be right back. You can pick a movie if you like.”

With that she got in the elevator, heading to her bedroom.

Bucky didn’t know what movie to choose, so he figured he would just wait for her to pick one. It was a little less than 10 minutes later when she re-entered in the kitchen, this time without any trace of make up in her face, her previously beachy curls gathered in a messy bun and wearing a cute pajama with little elephants imprinted on it.

Bucky thought she never looked more adorable.

“So, you picked a movie yet?”

“No, I figured you could do that.”

She scrolled down on Netflix to find some good movie, before deciding to watch Clueless. It was a light choice, funny, cute and she always thought that Josh was too cute and he and Cher were so good together.

They sat on the love seat, a blanket thrown casually on their laps and started the movie. It was a good one, a chick flick but Bucky liked it nonetheless.

He was focused on the storyline when around the middle of the movie he felt y/n’s weight on his left shoulder. He tensed a little, but relaxed again just as soon after, because it was y/n, and he loved having her near him. Besides she was never scared or repulsed by his metal arm.

Not long after her, he felt his eyes closing too and they were both fast asleep next to each other.

*

In the morning y/n was the first to wake up, feeling her cheeks flushing with embarrassment when she realized she had fallen asleep on Bucky.

Being tucked close to his chest, his head was resting on top of hers, and she could her his deep breaths. He was still soundly sleeping. Y/n didn’t know what to do, if she moved she would wake him up, but if she didn’t the other members of the team would see them cuddling on the couch and she didn’t want to hear their teasing.

She tried to carefully free herself from Bucky’s arms but his grip tightened unconsciously and she huffed out a short breath.

Bucky started stirring in his sleep and she could sense him waking up.

“Good morning.” He rasped out and oh god, his sleepy voice was the sexiest sound she had ever heard. She slapped herself mentally and tried to keep her thoughts in check.

“Morning Buck. I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”

“I don’t mind.” He replied, now being fully awake.

She smiled sweetly at him and didn’t know what to say. In that moment her phone chimed and she picked it up to read the new incoming message.

Mark: Good morning. :) Would you like going on a breakfast date with me?

She sighed upon reading the message. Bucky who couldn’t stop his eyes from  stealing a quick glance at her phone screen stiffened visibly and started retreating his body from hers.

“I suppose you have somewhere to go..” his voice faltered at the end of the sentence.

Y/n put her phone down and turned to look at Bucky. “Not unless you want me to stay here.”

“Doll I-”

“Should I stay?” Her interruption surprised him. She looked like she was almost pleading him to ask her to stay.

“Do you want to stay?” He asked unsure, not knowing how to answer to her question, actually fearing he would answer the wrong thing.

“Very much.” She didn’t even hesitate to give him that answer. “I am tired of going out on dates with guys that aren’t you.”

Before she could loose that boost of confidence she had no idea where came from, she continued speaking, her voice carrying all the feelings she was trying to communicate to him.

“I am tired of carrying these heavy exaggerated bouquets every other night and I am tired of having to be polite to my dates and refusing their expensive gifts and their second dates requests.”

Bucky eyes widened with every word leaving her mouth, but he didn’t dare interrupt her.

“I don’t want to put myself through the same useless process of dating people I know I won’t give a chance because I have my eyes on someone else. And I don’t want to wait anymore to tell you this, I really like you Bucky. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because-”

He didn’t let her speak anymore, pressing his lips softly to hers. Her breath hitched when he kissed her, but she wasn’t planning on turning him down. With newfound eager she reciprocated his kiss and he was all too happy to keep tasting her.

Too soon for her liking anyway, he broke it off and rested her forehead against hers.

“I really like you too sweetheart.” He whispered near her lips and she couldn’t hide the smile that spread on her face.

“But I can’t compare to those other guys. I can’t offer you expensive jewelry or fancy crowded restaurants dates and I-”

She pecked his lips for a second, just to get him to stop, before she distanced herself from him, but never going too far.

Her hands went to cup his cheeks while she locked her eyes with his.

“None of that impresses me. You know I don’t care about any of it. I had the best date with you last night, just watching a movie and sleeping next to you.” Her voice was sweet and honest and Bucky didn’t have any other choice but to believe her.

He covered her hands that were still resting on his face with his and smiled  lovingly at her.

“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, you know that?”

[overwatch-imagines-hub]

New follower here! :D I love your work! As for a request? I was wondering how Zenyatta, McCree, Reaper, Soldier, and Mercy would be with an artist s/o. They're super shy and don't show off their work often but one day s/o decides to show their partner a drawing they did of them? I hope you have a lovely day/night~!

This is me if anyone wants to date

I’m also pretty sure I’ve done a piece like this in the past? If I find it (probably on my Wattpad because that’s easier to maneuver than Tumblr), I’ll link it!

Sorry for the long wait; school and all. Welcome to the blog (sorry again for the inactivity

Like what I do? Leave me a tip!

~~~

Zenyatta

You drew him while he was working in the sanctuary

It’s a picture from your perspective at one of the smaller of the mismatched dining tables

Zen is helping a group of children gather plates of food, either to eat themselves or to carry back to their families

It takes you a while to decide that you’re going to show him the piece, being shy about your work and all

After a long day of work, Zenyatta comes to you with the notion that he sometimes feels like he’s not doing enough

Even some days the brightest light can dim sometimes and Zenyatta is no exception

It’s then that you decide to buck up and show him your work, hoping to prove to him that his notion is wrong

You don’t expect a whole lot in response but are quickly proven wrong

Zenyatta is touched to point where, if he was human, he’d probably tear up

Not only by the meaning of you showing him but by the fact that you care enough about him to show him your work despite your shyness

He’s also greatly impressed by your work, and tells you so

He wants to keep the piece as a keepsake, to remind him that his work matters even during darker days

If you let him take it, he keeps it pinned to his room’s wall, above his personal indoor meditation area

Traveling, he packs the piece up and carries it as a keepsake

McCree

The piece you drew was of Jesse cleaning his Peacekeeper after getting home from a long mission

It was just a soft, quiet moment and the lighting was great; you couldn’t help yourself

He probably noticed you drawing him not long after you started, resulting in him flashing crooked smiles and locking eyes with you whenever you looked over at him

He also probably finished cleaning his gun before you were done drawing but made the executive decision to keep pretending do so, so you didn’t lose your muse

When you’re pleased with the finished product, you relax

Only to see your gentle cowman trying to peek over despite being on the far side of the room

Of course, he always respects your wishes and never presses if you choose not to show your work

That doesn’t mean, however, he won’t give you puppy eyes every time to try and convince you to do so

This time, you just so happen to be in a good enough mood to not mind, not to mention he’s been practically watching you the entire time when not trying to be your muse

When you get up to show him, he’s very excited

He’s your biggest fan, regardless of how often he gets to see your work

He just loves experiencing what makes you happy with you

Loses his damn mind when he sees the work you did

Genuinely impressed with and excited about your work

He’s just Like That

Wants to hang it somewhere in the house if you’re alright with it

Will definitely try to keep it whether you want him to or not

If you try to take it from him, it will probably result in a wild goose chase around the house

Even if you manage to get it back from him, the next day it will probably end up framed in the living room

Reaper

The piece is of Reaper working in his office late at night

He’s still wearing his uniform and hard at work doing paperwork

You’re tired, bored, and, unless you have a tablet or sketchbook on you, are probably doodling said piece on a napkin or the back of scratch paper

You’re sharing his desk and kinda sleepy, so Gabe’s able to catch a glance of what you’re on occasion

During this time, Gabe has probably suggested once or twice you going home instead of staying up until ungodly hours with him, to no avail

Your sleepiness is what gives you the courage to show him your art

Which he is in awe of, but also flustered by

There’s a very clear sentiment to your work, with the fact that you decided to draw him at all and even decided to show him

Considers better than any photo that has been taken of him, especially in his Reaper uniform

He asks if he can keep it, and if you, in your sleep-induced haze, allow him to, he keeps the original piece hidden away in his desk for when he’s having a day that’s rougher than usual

Lowkey wants to pay you for your efforts and thinks it’s not fair that he gets to have your work without you getting anything in return

But that’s something he’ll talk with you about when you’re not half-asleep

If you let him, Gabe will make a blown up copy of it and use it as his official Talon image

Soldier 76

You thought it would be funny to draw the grumpy, hardworking man in a cute, cartoon-y style

In the image, Jack’s in his uniform and poised to fire at an enemy off the page, very serious despite his current cute stature

You think the finished product is amusing enough to show him

You just kind of track him down, push your piece into his face, and ask him what he thinks

Of course, he loves your art and as someone who doesn’t draw immensely well unless it’s battle plans, he’s impressed

However

“Why is my head so large and why are my arms and legs so tiny?”

When you tell him you thought it’d be fun to draw his grumpy self in a contrasting cute state, a teasing argument breaks out on whether or not he’s actually that grumpy

Mister Soldier “I’m not grumpy; everyone’s just stupid” (AKA “I’m an old man” 76 everybody

Once that settles, he asks if you’re giving it to him or not

If so, he’ll take it and keep it on his at-home office desk

If you prefer to keep it, he tells you that’s fine, compliments your work, and then gives you a smooch on the forehead

If neither of you are busy, you’ll probably hang out and snuggle for a bit too, until Jack’s inevitable workaholic tendencies creep up

Then it’s time to do everything in your power to convince him not to do the thing and stay for more cuddles instead

Mercy

You drew her while the two of you were lounging around on one of her few days off

She’s curled up in the cozy armchair next to the couch, wrapped in a blanket and wearing comfy clothes that she doesn’t usually get to wear

Reading one book from the several stacks of miscellaneous reading materials that sit on almost every flat surface in her humble home

If she wasn’t a literal goddess, you’d probably consider her a goblin among her hoard

Although, a dragon would make sense too

Yes, and dragons are prettier too

Angela’s definitely a beautiful, intimidating, take-no-shit, dragon with a book-hoarding problem

After your weird self-debate, you chuckle and make a mental note to draw your girlfriend as a dragon at some point

Your little giggle catches said girlfriend’s attention and she gives you a questioning quirked-brow and small smile look over the brim of her book’s cover

It’s a quiet moment and neither of you really want to break the silence fully, so you just smile back and shake your head a bit before turning your piece to give her a quick peak

To which Angela’s response is to break the silence and tell you that it’s gorgeous

She also adds that you were probably weren’t laughing at that, then asks if she can see the piece properly

You hand it to her after she saves her place in her book

You get to watch her marvel at it a bit, gently running her fingers over the lines, before telling her about your dragon idea

Angela cackles and warns that you better make her a pretty dragon, to which you promise you will

She mentions that she’d love to see that piece when you’re done as well

Now it’s up to you to chase your shyness away for long enough to show her

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: 16/17/18?

Back again to spill the tea about myself for all you lovely people.Thanks @cataclysmic-writer, @maybeillwriteit and @aurisadventure for the tags!

My answers are under the cut. 😊

Rules: Answer the 11 questions of the person who tagged you, make up 11 questions, then tag 11 people to answer them. 

Bilbo Taggins: @brittanyisart, @quilloftheclouds, @brittanyisart, @brynwrites, @creatvrae, @elisabethrosewrites, @elizabethsyson, @ren-c-leyn, @yetmorestories, @pinespittinink, @timefire25

My Questions:

What are your thoughts on throw pillows?

Do you have any podcast recommendations? How about TV shows?

What month would you be on a calendar, and what would the picture be?

What is one book that you absolutely love, no matter what anyone else has to say about it? 

What’s your favorite kind of scented candle?

What’s your favorite urban legend?

Would you ever go on an arctic expedition?

What’s the furthest from home you’ve ever been?

What is the best snack?

How purple do you allow your prose to be/get? What’s your purple limit? Is there one?

What’s one word/line/scene/character that you want to put in a story, but you haven’t found the right place for yet?

@cataclysmic-writer‘s questions:

What do you eat or drink while writing? It varies depending on how I’m feelin’. Usually a big giant glass of water. I used to have coffee and/or tea, but it always got cold because I forgot about it. That’s actually how I used to measure my progress, by how cold the drink was.  And coffee got me too jazzed to sit still, so I stopped drinking while writing. Good for academic papers, though.

Best piece of advice you ever received? Like... ever? Okay. People are more interested in themselves/absorbed with themselves to really care what you’re doing. Very empowering for someone with real bad social anxiety (like myself heyooo).

Which book inspired you to write the most? I’ve talked about Laurie Halse Anderson’s Wintergirls before, and I’m gonna mention it again. And that I went to a signing for her new book Shout and I got to thank her and my life has been enriched a thousand-fold.

Which author do you try to emulate when you write? Oh, man, I do not do this at all. Okay, well, not at all, because I find it to be a valuable writing exercise to practice with. But I super don’t. I’ve done projects where I’ve emulated Walt Whitman, Philip Levine, Tolkien, Dostoevsky, Poe (eugh), and Anne Valente. Those were super fun. I like imitating styles and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Sometimes I tell myself to put a Gaiman-like twist on a section, though, or describe something like another author if it fits the tone for funsies. But I like writing like me! 

Where did you get the idea for your current wip? I’ve already talked about Heart to Heart, so I’ll talk about “Fish Food!” This one happened when I was pondering superheroes, James Bond, tropes, evil monologues, and the like. I had the image of a hero tied up and dangling over a pit of piranhas while the villain detailed his evil plan. But the hero didn’t follow the script. And then, like every one of my short stories, it spun way out of control. I started to think of what heroes would inhabit this world that erupted from the fertile soil of my brain and suddenly I had a big complicated story that I was excited about. And it was funny, which is a change for me.

Do you have a go-to beta reader/writing buddy you bounce ideas off of? I do! One of my goodest friends is a fellow writer and she’s my spaghetti wall if I need assistance. We went through the same creative writing program one year apart and had different teachers, so we offer each other pretty different advice, and it’s great. She’s super into fae lore, too, which is ridiculously helpful for me, a nerd who is writing a light fantasy story with fae in it. We operate in different styles and genres, though, so sometimes idea-bouncing is a little tricky.

Which of your WIPs is your favorite? Of the ones I’m working on right now? Probably “Incarnate.” Partly because it’s closer to my usual writing fare, partly because it’s weird and disturbing in my favorite ways, partly because the ending is really cool and surprising in a way that hits you long after you finish it. I also like it because it’s hard for me to write. Yay, challenges!

Tea, coffee, or soda? Tea for chillin’, coffee for workin’, soda for pizza times.

If you could have any fantasy creature as a pet, which would you have? A brownie to clean my house, or a domovoi to act as a weird home security system would be neat. For non-practical purposes, I’d also say a pegasus. I can ride pretty well and it’d be so convenient to just fly everywhere on my awesome horse buddy.

Do you like creepy/scary movies? NOPE. I am a big chicken shit when it comes to spooky things. As a kid, I was terrified of E.T. That’s how bad it was. 

What genre do you have yet to write in, but want to write soon? Hm. Maybe historical fiction? I already play with it a little bit without actually going into the history part of it too deeply. Maybe I’ll give it a shot in the future.  I’ve always wanted to give magical realism a good try, though. It’s always been hard for me to write. 

________________________________________

@aurisadventure​‘s questions:

1. Who is your favorite oc? Why?

Right now, it’s Lithium from “Fish Food.” She’s just so fun. I also just figured out a big part of Jill’s character that I’m excited to add to H2H!

2. What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not writing?

I got into cooking a while ago, and that’s pretty fun. I do yoga sometimes. I read a bunch. I also like putting things together. Honestly, I’m a big giant nerd who likes learning in their spare time.

3. What is your least favoured genre?

Hard sci-fi is really hard for me to get into. And some contemporary stuff, but it’s not as bad as hard sci-fi.

4. Top three favorite video games? (Any console)

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (with Awakening DLC, obvs) (except for the goddamn Mage Circle Fade part I hate it and it deserves to burn in hell)

Ori and the Blind Forest (I’m stuck on the last stupid fire volcano level and I’m so mad because it’s hard but this game is beautiful)

To The Moon (so many tears, such good story)

Honorable mention to Assassin’s Creed 2. 

(I love RPGs.)

5. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for inspiration?

Hm. I don’t really go out and seek inspiration like this. I just consume a whole lot of art in varying mediums. 

I went to a poetry slam one time. Does that count?

6. Buggy or Cart?

Horses, buggy. Oxen, cart. As much as I’d like to be Gandalf...

7. Have you finished any of your wips?

I am so goddamn close to finishing “When Your Song is Over and Done” I can taste it. I’m hoping to write that last stupid scene this week. It’s been the one WIP that’s been kicking my ass lately. How rude.

I’m a short story writer, so I finish a lot of my WIPs. It’s kinda nice. That’s also why longer projects scare me.

8. But like… can I read it?

😉

In the meantime, you can read these!

9. What is your favorite animal? Why?

Highland Cows! Just look at them. 

I’m sure I have a more interesting answer for this, but honestly, cows are all I can think of. I love cows. 

10. Name one place you want to visit more than anything.

Norway! Not sure why. Seems like a really cool place to be.

(I lied I love space and want to go to the observatories.)

11. What is your most cherished childhood memory?

Saturday mornings curled up in my grandfather’s armchair watching TV and eating Burger King before we go visit the animals at the farm.

________________________________________

@maybeillwriteit‘s questions:

1. Which oc would you most like to go for a drink with?

I don’t drink, but I think Treena would be an excellent conversation partner. 

2. Where do you like to write? Bed? Desk? Cafe? etc etc

I have a desk in my room. Not that I usually write at it. I’m good anywhere I can sit up straight and rest my arms.

3. Which of your ocs do you think people are most likely to make fanart for?

Eventually, I hope Mel. I love her character design. Or the superheroes and villains from “Fish Food.” They all have really distinct appearances and cool costumes/uniforms.

4. Favourite piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Probably the time my mentor also admitted he hated writing dialogue, but that sometimes you just gotta. 

5. Which place in your stories would you like to live? (i’ve read this sentence ten times and i ain’t convinced it’s grammatically correct lol)

(maybe: In which place/where in your stories would you most like to live? I dunno this one’s freaking my brain.)

Linsay would be the best place to live, I think. A very chill small town that has everything you need, very supportive soon-to-be friends, an apothecary on stand-by, and lovely weather. Its residents are fiercely protective and are very willing to look the other way where the law is concerned if it helps someone.

6. Do any authors/books influence your writing? Which ones?

Oh, tons. Jim Butcher, Laurie Halse Anderson, George Saunders, Anne Valente, Tolkien, Gaiman, Matt Bell, Aimee Bender, and a whole bunch more authors. And, if you wanna get all heartfelt about it, every single book I’ve read has influenced my writing, whether it’s learning how to do something, learning how not to do something, or finding a new technique that jives with my style.

7. Pick one song that represents your wip.

I’ve done a bunch of song stuff with H2H, so this is for “Fish Food:”

Honestly, my first instinct is “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” from Next to Normal. But it’s not quite right.

I also wanna say “Super Friends” from Holy Musical B@man. 

But in my heart, I know the true answer is “Under Pressure.” How could it not be?

8. Favourite thing about being a writer?

The feels! I love writing things and getting my own feels out, then making other people feel things. It’s so satisfying. 

9. Characters or plot, what came first?

Characters! Oh my God, always characters. And before characters, concept and theme(s). Sometimes a scene just pops into my head and I have to figure out who these people are and why they’re there.

10. Do you like writing prompts?

I do indeedy. They’re pretty helpful when I’m stuck. I only write for the ones that instantly spark an idea in my brain, though. All the ones I’m getting for my 800 followers celebration are insanely good. 

11. Part of your wip that you’re most excited to write?

Oh, man! So many!

H2H: The climax! Well, one of them. The one of the magic incidents and Mel and Gemma’s relationship, to be specific.

Fish Food: When my main two dudes meet Lithium! And figure out what’s going on with her. Or anything about Lithium’s real life. Her story is wild.

WYSiOaD: The goddamn rooftop scene that’s been kicking my ass for a month. It’s gonna be so emotional and poignant and great and I can’t wait for it to be over.

[unfortunate-rp]

Congratulations, LIV! You have been accepted as your desired character, AVA COLEMAN. I especially loved in your app the amount of detail you went into the Anything Else section to show what makes Ava Ava. Please be sure to complete the steps listed on the NEW MEMBER CHECKLIST and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

Well, young lady, have you been good to your mother?

OOC        Your Name: Liv    Your Age: 21    Your Pronouns: She/Her    Time zone: EST    Activity Level: 5; I’m in grad school-enough said there. I can be on pretty reliably a bit each day though.      Tumblr account (for contact purposes): ooopsydaisy or thatparkinsongirl    (If applying for second character) Characters played: NA    (If applying for second character) Will you be able to handle a second character?: NA    How did you find us?: The lsrpg tag I think.    Triggers: None IC    Character you’re applying for: Ava Coleman    Why did you choose this character?: Before I even knew if Sybil’s wife would be a playable char I was fascinated with the idea of her. Right out of the gate, there’s so much potential for her. Ugh the angst, the character development, the mystery sh’s now caught up in.    Secondary character preference: Ruby Cohen! If I have time I’m apping her too.      A sample in character: The cats, Rosalind and Aslop, were crying in their carriers in the back seat and eventually Ava started too. With every mile, every turn she drove further and further from home; no, that wasn’t right, 667 Dark Avenue wasn’t home, not really. Home was Sybil. The truck was packed full of their life together, at least; every scrap of paper, every trinket, Ava didn’t dare get rid of anything or even place it in storage. Anything could be a clue, a message, an answer. She’d been around enough grieving families though by now to know that answers were a bandaid on a gaping wound and it was a gaping wound. Days after the funeral, but before the whispering of her own guilt began, Ava had woken in their bed to a noise in the kitchen, just the cats, but for a moment, sleep still clinging to her, it was any other morning, Sybil puttering around the kitchen as the coffee brewed. The car crash impact of realization, of remembrance, knocked the air out of her lungs, left her gasping alone in a bed for two, knees drawn up to her chest, trying to lessen the stomach deep pain. No one had ever explained to her how physical an emotional wound could hurt you. Pulling into the driveway of her new house, Ava tried to see it with Sybil’s eyes. It was charming enough with the view of the lake, butter yellow door, shutters, and creeping ivy. Some of that was detracted by the perpetual gray skies and the mist rolling in off the lake. It would’ve been a nice place to get away for a vacation but Sybil had always liked being in the city, in the bustle of things. Ava’s only instructions to the realtor had been for a small place out of the city, anything to get away from the whispers about her guilt. She’d have to endure it still at work, particularly where the motto was, it’s always the spouse, but at least here she was far enough from any neighbors. She slid out of the truck, grabbing the cat carriers first, Rosalind had finally settled down, having given in to her circumstances, but Aslop had switched from mournful meows to low hisses. Sybil had always joked about how each cat took after them. “We’re gonna be all right,” she murmured quietly to them, praying it wasn’t a lie. She shoved her way through the door, stopping just inside. It was so horrifically empty, bare walls, nothing but open space. The room opened straight to the living room, hard wood floors everywhere, and the kitchen tucked in the corner beyond her. At least here where Sybil had never been, she didn’t see phantoms of her everywhere-laughing over the stove as the pot of spaghetti boiled over everywhere, on the couch, cello laid out before her, carefully tending to the strings, at the desk in the study, poring over her commonplace book, a small wrinkle between her eyebrows. Ava wanted to cry, to just give into the sadness. Instead she knelt down carefully and opened up both of the cat carriers, letting them both slink off to explore. One box by one, she dragged everything in, leaving them all in haphazard stacks against the wall. She’d carefully labeled each and every box to ensure the smoothest unpacking but even still, it would be a long process. The boxes with Sybil’s name on them glared back at her. The only piece of furniture she bothered with for now was the disassembled bed, the wooden slats deposited in the one bedroom and the mattress on the floor in the living room until she could find the energy to get it down the hallway. Collapsing onto it, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Her heart ached for home, fruitlessly, uselessly. Eventually, as day faded away around her, the room growing dark, she felt the pressure of small cat paws against her chest. Eyes still on the ceiling, she reached a blind hand out, expecting to meet Rosalind’s furry head; instead, it was Aslop, and her one nub of an ear. Aslop had always been the more independent of the two cats, always exploring, sneaking outside even sometimes. And yet, here in an exciting new place, she curled up  on Ava’s chest and started purring loudly. Ava let out a shaky breath, loud in the silence.    What headcanons or plans do you have for this character? (Please take any current plotdrops into consideration):

Mostly just vague ideas at the moment. I feel like the direction I go will have a lot to do with her interactions with other people and with the development of the plot. That said, in my mind Ava’s always been one of the more background members of VFD, she joined late, she’s more into research than fighting on the front lines. Poor girl’s asthmatic and petrified of planes and quite simply not that type of person. BUT, god is she desperate to know what happened to Sybil, I think it’ll be very interesting for this desperation to push her outside of her comfort zone, to slide more into the action. OR alternatively, again a lot of this hinges on where the plot goes, I love a good moral quandary, Ava either making a fishy, not great deal with a firestarter for information or even her finding something out in her investigation that makes her doubt the holy mission of the volunteers (particularly since many of them even ones she considered friends doubt her innocence). I think her connection with Adam will be very interesting to explore. His doubt in her, their workplace relationship, his lack of knowledge about VFD. Super excited. Her and Lauren’s connection should be super fun as well. Nothing like a good arch nemesis plot. I kind of can’t wait.    Do you want any additional connections for your desired character that you’d like us to add to their bio?: I didn’t see either of them in any of the characters and I don’t know if you had something planned for them down the line but I’m very interested in Ava’s sister in laws, Clara and Isabella. I think it would be nice and heartwrenching for her to still have a family of sorts even after Sybil’s death. I mean plus they both just sounded super interesting.

   Anything else?:  A few valuable, factual details,   Ava, a young girl, curled in the old green armchair in the sitting room of her grandmother’s house.The heavy book in her lap was too old for her and boring moreover but it was a better alternative to staring out the window, watching, waiting for two people who wouldn’t be coming back (Ava had known it was the last time during the last time her parents came, she could feel it in the air, in the lingering kiss to her forehead her mother bestowed, her father tucking her in that night. Every movement whispered goodbye. It was a good thing she had this experience-it meant she knew how to recognize nonverbal goodbyes.). In a month’s time, Grammy Ellie would take pity on her and make the trek up to the attic to bring down her daughter’s, Ava’s mother, childhood book collection. She never could stop watching though. Wanting. It didn’t take long for her to read every book of her mother’s twice over. The library two streets down from Grammy’s was a small affair, homey, with not enough shelves for all their books. It was love at first sight. If she wasn’t home, she was guaranteed to be there. She didn’t play at the playground like the other children, didn’t run and scream up down the street. She was largely alone as a child; no one else understood her and she didn’t understand them. They had no interest in anatomy and chemistry and constellations, didn’t want to listen to her excited explanation of what black plague did to the body. It was okay; she didn’t even know she was lonely (that would come later). Primary school was merely a series of disappointments. Medical school might have been as well if not for that fateful taxi drive. The VFD was full of people just like her, full of that gnawing yearning for knowledge, for importance, for saving the world. It was a group of people who had as children all been told at one point or another to tone down their excitement about something. She made her first real friends there, her family (she discovered just how lonely she’d been all along). Friends she was desperate to protect in any way that mattered; for her that was using her medical skills to patch up the members of the VFD risking their lives on the front lines. A year after joining, she’d graduated from med school as an internist. Having a purpose among her family filled her with joy. Ava was often called into headquarters to patch someone up, small burns and other minor wounds mostly. That was until the panicked, late night phone call from one of her friends. Ava rushed across town her heart beating in her throat, hearing the words, poison, oh god, Ava, what do I do, I can’t lose him, over and over. She got there just in time, just in time to watch him die. She was still performing fruitless CPR, his wife sobbing on their kitchen floor, when the ambulance arrived. It would not be the last death. Going back to school for a residency and then fellowship in forensic pathology was an easy decision for her. If she couldn’t save her friends’ lives then she would do her best to respect and speak for them after death. Sybil had once asked how she could possibly bare it and Ava, unsure herself sometimes, had told her that she saw it as being a translator of sorts, passing on the last words of the dead to the family. Sybil, staring back at her, leaned up and kissed her forehead and it felt so much like a goodbye that Ava had whispered, please don’t put me through that (she would, of course, and there was a part of both of them that knew Sybil would). Sybil Holloway was a tornado carving a line of destruction through her from the first moment to the very last. She was Ava’s first everything, first friend, first kiss, first date, first time, first love. From the very moment Ava laid eyes on her, Sybil at a party, playing her cello for a small group, the music bleeding out of Sybil like a tide, she knew Sybil was special. They were as many people told them a disgusting couple, eyes following each other, soft touches, easy companionship, trust, support. Understanding. That, more than anything else was what Ava thought people were searching for, understanding, to hear an answering echo of your own spirit in someone else. Even so, it wasn’t a perfect relationship, no that would require perfect people and neither Ava or Sybil were that. Sybil never hesitated from taking on dangerous work for the VFD, dangerous, secretive work. Whispered conversations, late nights poring over notes she didn’t share, and sudden trips she claimed were just for searching out antiques. Ava knew this wasn’t the full truth and though she wanted to give Sybil her privacy she was terrified too—so many of their friends had died lately.

They fought over it occasionally when Ava’s worry became too much. Sybil accused of her of not trusting her, of acting like Sybil was just never going to come back one day just like her parents. No one could hurt you quite like someone who knew you well. They fought about it publicly at a small VFD gathering a week before the fundraiser and though they later made up at home that night, Ava knew that fight was still ringing in people’s ears as they looked at Sybil’s vacant fragile dead body sprawled on the sidewalk.

[qvicksilversass]

Bad Habit - Part 5

(Pietro Maximoff x Reader) 

You got yourself a (real) bad habit for him.

Words: 1434 Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood

Can you save Bucky?

An: I know I’m shit at updating, sorry this took so long been having serious writer’s block and been super busy with work and the little boy. Also had to edit this on mobile so apologies if it’s messed up! Split the chapters up a bit aswell as I realised each one was 3000+ words! Hope it’s ok, if anyone’s still reading! 😜 x

Tags:  @goal-mine  (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this or anything else)

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6   Part 7   Part 8  Part 9   Part 10  

Masterlist

For a moment the world seems to be in slow motion, Bucky’s eyes meet yours just before he tumbles over the edge and your scream rips through your body all the pain you were feeling forgotten as you run to the edge of the window. Steve was beside you in an instant bracing himself to jump after his friend.

“What have I done?” Wanda sobs behind you, crumpled on the floor rocking back and forth. You put your arm out to stop Steve from jumping, a knowing glance passing between you both.

“Steve, I can save him.”

Steve closes his eyes, contemplating what to do. Your power was dangerous and unpredictable, much like Wanda’s, it was a huge risk. Letting out a breath he opens his eyes and nods.

“Do it.″

Wanda scrambles backwards to get away from you, only finding herself scooped up into Steve’s arms.

“I’m so sorry Wanda, I’ll be quick.”

Struggling to keep Wanda still you grab her face with both hands, feeling her thrashing around in Steve’s arms. Being as gentle as you can you close your eyes and everything stops once the transference begins.

The process only lasted seconds, but it always felt like a lifetime. Wanda’s essence and memories enter your body, her powers rushing through you leaving Wanda unconscious in Steve’s arms.

Barely giving yourself time to recover you pull yourself to your feet, taking a running jump out of the window without a second thought.

After a few moments of free fall, Wanda’s red energy finally flows from your hands, the amount of power coursing through you like nothing else. It propels you forwards until your speed increases so much you start to feel light headed. You know you’re going too fast, but you can’t slow down Bucky is already so close to the ground.

Bucky’s not even trying to stop himself falling anymore, he doesn’t even notice you careering down the building after him. The look of resignation in his eyes as he falls kills you, no fucking way were you going to let him die - and you told him that, practically screaming the words into his mind.

‘Y/n? What the hell did you do?! Get your ass back into that building right now!’

‘Just let me save you will you?!’

’How are you gonna do that? you suddenly an expert in Wanda’s powers? You’re going to get yourself killed!’

’I can’t concentrate with you shouting at me!’

’You started it!’

Finally close enough you create a force field around him, slowing him down, but it wasn’t enough the ground getting too close for comfort. You use all the power you can muster and throw Bucky upwards, firing him back up the building while you move underneath him. He glares at you when he shoots past and you smirk at him.

'Love you too Buck’

With only seconds until you hit the ground, you create a force field underneath you praying it would take most of the impact while you slowed Bucky down enough for a safe landing.

Wanda’s powers protect you a little, but you still slam into the ground a massive shock wave blasting around you sending earth, cars and debris flying into the air. Your head hits the floor with a nasty crack and the red circles around you while you try to calm down, a grin spreading over your dirt covered face when you see Bucky dusting himself off and running over to you.

“Do you realize how dangerous that was dammit!”

You sat up, trying to turn off Wanda’s overwhelming power. You’d never taken anyone so powerful before and it felt like it was burning through you, burning you out.

“You’re welcome.” You couldn’t help smiling, he was ok, even if he was pissed.

You held out your hand and he takes it, pulling you up into his arms and into a hug.

“Fuck’s sake y/n, you nearly gave me a heart attack."Bucky kisses the top of your head while holding you close. He accidentally grazes the gash on the back of your head and you wince.

"You’re hurt,” he mumbles, his hand red with blood.

“Bucky, I need to get back to her.” You couldn’t fall unconscious, the longer you kept Wanda’s powers the worse it would be. Her memories had already stated running around in your head making it hard to concentrate.

Leaning on Bucky for support, you sigh in relief when Sam flies down and smile at the obvious shock on his face when he sees Bucky alive and your eyes swirling with red mist. He gives you a quick hug and brushes you off when you try to look at his near matching wound.

“Late as usual.” Bucky snarked and you rolled your eyes, they were always messing with each other; more than Bucky and Steve sometimes.

Sam smirks and pats Bucky on the shoulder, “Yeah, glad your alive man.”

“You know I love your bromance,” they both huff and roll their eyes, “but Sam, will you fly me up there?”

Sam nods and reaches out for your hand, while Bucky holds your arm, pulling you back, “What if she tries to kill you again?” You gave him a sideways smile, starting to feel woozy.

“She won’t wake up for a few hours, I’ll be ok.” You reassured him, stepping into Sam’s arms.

“Hold tight.”

The sudden rush of air doesn’t help your aching head and Sam is reluctant to let you go once he sets you down you’re so unsteady. He walks you over to where Steve is still sitting with Wanda in his arms. His cheeks are stained with tears and his eyes sparkle when he looks up at you.

“Buck? He’s ok?” You nod and your heart lifts at his grateful smile. Wanda appears so peaceful, however you know she isn’t really there, all you leave behind is a shell. You can only hope you make her whole again.

“Can you do this you’re hurt?” Steve asks, steadying you with his free hand.

“You know I have to, the longer I keep her essence the less I give back.”

You brush Wanda’s brown curls out of her face and take a deep breath, your hands holding her face. Closing your eyes you try to concentrate through your throbbing headache until you can feel Wanda’s powers flowing back into her body.

Scattered memories flashed by again; except they weren’t hers. The images ripped from you so fast you couldn’t pin point recent from old, all you heard were his screams. They were incessant, filling your mind with such incredible pain and fear, taking over your senses until you couldn’t differentiate between his screams and your own, pulling you down into the darkness with them.

What have they done to you?

The darkness doesn’t seem to want to let you go, it takes all your effort to open your eyes, curious as to who was snoring so loudly. You glance up and smile when you see Bucky in the armchair opposite you dozing off. Shuffling into a sitting position you sit up too quickly and pain shoots down the back of your head, making you feel dizzy. The movement  startles him awake and he jumps up to give you a hug.

“Morning sunshine, you were out a while this time.” Bucky smiles, his eyes tired as he checks your bandage.

“Wanda? Is she ok? I have to tell her…Pietro he’s…” You started to get out of bed and Bucky gently pushes you back down again.

“Wanda’s fine, don’t you feel that? We’re already in the air.”

Calming your breathing you noticed the rumble of the engine, “Is she still mad at me?”

“Could say that. At least she didn’t chuck you outta skyscraper,” he chuckled, the bed shifting under his weight as he sat down next to you, “she said she saw Pietro’s location when you did your thing, we’re headed there now.”

“Are you still mad at me?” You ask and he leans a little closer to you.

“Damn straight,” he answered with a hint of a smile, it disappeared when he caught your eye, “don’t ever risk your life for me again.”

“Promise me.” Bucky took your hand, the emotion in his eyes scaring you a little bit.

“You know I can’t promise that, could you? You’d do the same for me.” He shrugged and you elbowed him.

“We’re a few hours out yet, rest up.” Bucky lies you back onto the bed and pulls the covers over you. You swat his hand away playfully before you remember the images that filled your mind just before you lost consciousness.

“I’m frightened Bucky. I’m not sure what we’re going to find,” his forced smile told you he was trying to hide his own worry from you,“what if he’s …”

“You know that son of a bitch, he’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t hear his screams.”

Part 6   

[cc-hatredisland]

Free Time Event.  {.Chika. 01.}

If I’m wandering around the library, I guess it’s not too surprising that I’d end up bumping into Chika. She was curled up in an armchair, looking the happiest I’ve ever seen her. I don’t think I’d call her... anti-social... I mean, she probably appreciates company, just on her terms. She actually seems to notice me and shuts the book. Maybe I should give her some space.

“H-hi, Shimizu-kun. Were you looking for something?“

“Huh? Oh, uh, not really. I guess I’m not much of a reader.“

“Don’t say that! S-sorry, that came out wrong... but um, I mean... I think, uh, well, there’s a book for everyone you know? It’s like, um... they have a power so like... there’s one you’d enjoy I bet... um, I can help, if you want. I think...”

For her to actively try and help me... she must really love books. There’s a mixture of determination and fear in her eyes, a conflict for the ages right there, just dancing around in her head.

Well, what to do...?

> Hang out with Chika

> Leave

I scratch the back of my neck, a little out of uncertainty before I give her a reply. Honestly I wasn’t very bookish and I wasn’t sure what kind of book would suit but I wanted to at least try since I was here.

“If you’re fine with it, yeah, alright.”

Chika’s whole face brightens up. She scrambles out of the chair, almost falling before somehow just curving to her feet, more like a snake than a person. She moves in one smooth motion, trotting over to my side and then striding ahead with beckoning gestures left as guides. I try to follow Chika between the shelves as she snoops through a variety of books and genres.

“Well then! Well! So, um, what sort of things do you like?”

“... Uhh... food... I guess.”

“You like cooking?”

“I... can cook... I guess... but eating’s better.”

I can somehow feel her disappointment. Maybe I’m projecting it but that silence makes it hard to tell. She continues moving about and I follow her lead.

“How about swords? Do you like those?”

“They’re kinda cool.”

“And space! Don’t you just love space?”

“Er, well... the night sky is kinda cool... but I’m not... really smart enough. To know stuff.”

“Hmm... oh! Well! Some people prefer mangas to books? What about something from shounen jump?”

“I kinda think it goes on for too long...”

She purses her lips and folds her arms. It’s not so much disappointment in me than I think it is disappointment in failing. I feel bad giving her so little go on but even I’m not sure how to be useful here.

“Well... why don’t you talk about the books you like? Sometimes you can get interested ‘cause someone else is interested.”

“I-is that okay...? If you say that, I... probably won’t be able to shut up!”

Her enthusiasm was overflowing.

“Sure, sounds good.“

“Yes! I mean... o-okay.”

She huffs out a deep breath before returning to her merry journey. It seems like she has a specific shelf in mind this time, perhaps even a specific book. It’s hard to say. The way she searches through those books scares me a little; it’s like watching an automated process.

“As... I guess you’d know... or, um, guess... I really like crime fiction. I-I don’t even mind if it gets really gory! Oh, I mean, I guess it depends on the writer, though... I think what I like most about them is that... it’s a world where justice wins out... but it’s not like, super goody-goody justice. ‘Cause, the protagonist, they’re always a bit flawed and grizzled... it’s nice I guess to feel like... maybe you can be that cool and smart in the future, too...”

I’d always thought of crime protagonists as a little edgy but maybe I was wrong. It was cool to hear her take on it; she was definitely invested in her words.

“... I guess it shows but I don’t go out much. I dream of solving crimes and being seen as ‘cool’ like that... b-but I’m just me. I can’t even really buy sugar from the store.“

“You said before you had social anxiety, right?”

She nods, her whole disposition sinking into one of depression. Still, she keeps the book she picked out close to her chest, like a shield, almost.

“... Yeah. It’s pretty bad. Most days I can’t even leave the house... my parents they kinda think... ‘when will she get over it’... they’re not mean... I do get it... but I can’t fix myself. Sometimes all I have to do is leave the front door and I feel sick... I just end up thinking about all the ways things can go wrong and I can’t move at all. My head just spins and... well, often times my brother has to drag me back in. I miss him, a little.“

Crap.

“Did he...?”

“W-what? OH! No! My god! Um, no, no, no, he’s just at college now. It’s just a little lonelier now that he’s gone, that’s all. Since I don’t go to school much, you know.“

I guess with the amount of social anxiety she has that isn’t too surprising. I can’t really relate to missing someone like she does but in some way... I do kinda get it.

“I didn’t go to school much either so I kinda get it.”

“Hey, did your brother read much?”

Chika laughs. I’m actually taken aback but it’s not a bad thing, I don’t think.

“He hated reading. Maybe ‘cause he always studied? B-but um, he said... if you don’t like who you are, then find a you you do like. He said, um, you can find idols anywhere... on television... or on the silver screen... or even in pages. I guess I just identified best with those old detectives.“

“So I guess at heart you’re just an edgy old guy with an addiction.”

“Pffft-- maybe a little... at heart...”

Chika hides her smile behind two hands and then gasps when she sees the clock.

“My god? Ohhh my god! Erm! I’m so sorry! It’s really late, I ramble way too long! G-geez, why didn’t you stop me... you should get going...”

She doesn’t look like she intends to leave her book-filled haven so I opt to just find my own way out, after bidding her goodbye. I’m not sure if I found the type of book that’s for me but I did get to talk to Chika a bit. That’s pretty important... I mean, I think I got to know her better.

[dragon-temeraire]

Jordan Parrish’s 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski

I dredged up this old fic in honor of @shippingwithstiles starting up. If you like Stiles rarepairs, you should definitely check it out!

Summary: In which Jordan has a plan and Stiles is suspicious.

It’s been a year since I wrote this, I forgot how silly it was. (On AO3)

“Dude, what is up with Parrish?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asks. “What’s he doing?”

“He said he’s coming to pack night, for one!” Stiles huffs, throwing his hands in the air.

“So? What’s wrong with him coming to pack night?” Scott asks reasonably. “He’s helped us out a lot over the years. I consider him an honorary pack member.”

“That’s not what I meant! He’s a great guy, no doubt. I mean, why is he showing up now?” Stiles says.

“Oh!” Scott says, grinning. “That’s easy. He asked me where you were every Wednesday night, and I told him we had weekly pack get-togethers. So he asked me if he could come.”

“And you said yes,” Stiles cuts in.

“Of course I did. Like you said, Jordan’s a great guy. And I think it’d be good for him to be around people like us, who understand the supernatural. Besides, he looks like he could use a chance to just chill.”

“Yeah, good point. Maybe he’s looking for an excuse to be around Lydia,” Stiles muses.

“Dude, you know he’s been over her for years. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because she’s dating Malia,” Scott says.

“Trust me, I know,” Stiles says. “Malia likes to call me up and tell me all these sordid details.”

Scott raises his eyebrows. “Can I get in on these phone calls?”

“Dude, no!” Stiles says, giving Scott a playful shove. “Those calls are my burden to bear. Besides, you have a girlfriend. You don’t need any sexy phone calls.”

Scott looks like he wants to argue, but lets it go. “What else has Jordan done?”

“Yesterday, right after he told me he was coming to pack night, he gave me a cupcake. It had a smiley face on it!” He says, outraged.

Scott just laughs. “Was it good?”

“It was delicious,” Stiles concedes. “But that’s not the point. The day before that, he’s eating lunch at his desk, and I’m working and minding my own business. He gets up and says ‘the burger place gave me an extra order of fries, do you want them’?”

“You took them, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! They were curly fries,” Stiles says reverently.

Scott nods, acknowledging the greatness of curly fries. “Wait a minute. Did you have lunch that day?”

“Er, no.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck. “I got distracted working.”

“So Jordan found a way to feed you without insulting your pride.” Scott looks impressed.

“How devious. And just today, he offered to cover my late shift because I looked tired. Seriously, what is going on?”

“Sounds like you’re mad that Jordan’s being nice you,” Scott says.

“I just want to know why. I’m beginning to suspect an ulterior motive.”

Scott looks at him kindly. “I think you can trust him. Maybe he’s just looking for a friend. He seems kind of lonely.”

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe you’re right. I think I’ll wait and see how this plays out. But if he asks me to join his super-secret fight club or something, I’m calling you!”

Scott laughs. “It’s a deal.”

 *

 Jordan arrives at pack night carrying five boxes of pizza. He puts a bag of breadsticks directly into Stiles’ hands and says, “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” Then he just casually walks away. Stiles stares after him even as he shoves the first breadstick into his mouth.

It doesn’t take long before the smell of garlic lures Scott to his location. He reaches for the bag, which Stiles snatches away, cradling it against his chest. “No way, dude! He said I didn’t have to share.”

“Who did?”

“Jordan!” He exclaims, throwing himself down on the end of the couch. He curls up his legs, protecting the breadsticks from Scott.

“Oh, did he?” Scott says, smirking.

“Did someone call my name?” Jordan asks, walking out of the kitchen. He hands Stiles a plate of pizza, a root beer, and a stack of napkins. “You looked busy,” he says by way of explanation, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Uh, thanks!” Stiles calls after him. He’s distracted, staring after Jordan, until Scott’s snickering catches his attention. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I solved the mystery,” Scott says.

“Are you Scooby Doo now? What mystery?”

“The mystery of why Jordan is being nice to you,” Scott says smugly.

“Oh. Well, what’s the answer?”

“I’m not telling. You’ll figure it out, Velma,” he says, ruffling Stiles’ hair. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Jordan asks, looking at them curiously. He’s leaning against the other end of the couch, plate of pizza in hand.

“You just interrupted Scott being a terrible friend, so no big deal,” Stiles says, waving a hand dismissively in Scott’s direction.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Stiles. I’m gonna get some food now.” Stiles watches him go, feeling victorious.

“You mind if I sit here?” Jordan asks, gesturing to the couch.

“No, man, feel free,” Stiles says. Though he can’t help but notice that the other couch and the armchairs are mostly unoccupied. Malia’s the only other person in the living room. Maybe they made seating arrangements while they were all in the kitchen. He’ll roll with it. “So, not that I mind, but why did you bring me my own bag of breadsticks?”

Jordan sat down next to him. “Scott told me the story of one of your first pack nights. He said you brought pasta and breadsticks, but everyone was so hungry that they ate them all, and you didn’t get a single one. It was a deeply moving tragedy,” he says, deadpan.

Stiles can’t help but laugh. “Well, it sucks to have pasta, but no delicious bread to go with it!” He peeks into the breadstick bag, then offers it to Jordan. “Want one?”

“I don’t have any pasta, but sure. Thanks.” He takes one cautiously.

“So answer me this,” Stiles says, just as Jordan’s about to take a bite. “Why did you want to come to pack night?”

“I wanted to get to know you better,” Jordan says promptly.

“Me? But you already know me. We work together!”

“Work isn’t the best place to form friendships,” Jordan says, taking a bite of bread. “Besides we hardly ever get to talk about anything besides cases.”

“That’s a fair point. But why me?”

Jordan shrugs. “You understand the job. You know what it means to have a bad day at work. Despite your sarcasm, you care a lot about people. You always try to do the right thing. And you’re pretty funny.”

Stiles pokes him in the shoulder, grinning. “How can you say that to me? You never laugh at my jokes!”

“I do,” Jordan says, pointing to his stoic face, “on the inside.”

“Well, maybe you should try laughing on the outside occasionally. I always thought my sarcastic commentary annoyed you.”

“No, not at all. Sorry you thought that. I’m just not a very expressive person, as you’ve probably noticed.” He cleared his throat. “I was also going to say that you know what I am, which is pretty important. You won’t freak out if I start to look…”

“Like Johnny Storm?” Stiles finishes.

“Who?”

Slapping his hand dramatically to his forehead, Stiles flops back on the couch as though he’s fainted. “Look, you really need to come to my house sometime. So we can watch Fantastic 4.”

“Sure,” Jordan says easily. “I’m off at three on Friday.”

Stiles pulls his hand away from his face, shocked. “Really?” He sits back up. “Okay, come over around five. I’ll have food and drinks, so you don’t have to bring anything.”

“Sounds good,” Jordan says, just as Scott bursts in from the kitchen at a run, shielding his plate of pizza. Kira follows at a more sedate pace, carrying a large bowl of salad.

“Anybody want some of this before I dump it over Scott’s head?” she asks sweetly.

“I do,” Jordan says, extending his plate.

“Traitor!” Stiles hisses, snickering. Kira immediately scoops a pile of lettuce onto his last slice of pizza. She then places a neat serving on Jordan’s plate. Stiles picks up his slice, still covered in salad, and takes a bite. “Ooh, its Caesar!” he exclaims, and keeps eating it.

Lydia picks a movie as Kira diligently piles up half of Scott’s plate with salad. Malia tells Lydia they could watch something without dancing this time. Lydia sticks out her tongue and puts Footloose in anyway. Scott’s just leaning against the couch, laughing at Kira’s mock-serious face. She doesn’t crack a grin until the bowl is empty, but then she looks over and starts laughing at Scott.

Their laughter is infectious, and Stiles fights the urge to giggle. He really loves pack night.

Leaning close, Jordan whispers “are they always like this?”

“Sometimes they’re worse,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Welcome to pack night. There’s never a dull moment,” he says, patting Jordan on the back.

 *

 He keeps looking at the clock. He taps his fingers on the counter and checks his phone again. The last message from Jordan is see you at 5. He shouldn’t be nervous. He’s known Jordan for ages, and they work together, so really they’re practically friends. Or something like that.

He startles when the doorbell rings. He takes a running start from the living room and slides across the hardwood floor. Throwing open the front door dramatically, he exclaims “Hi, Jordan!”

“Hello, Stiles,” Jordan says, unflappable as ever. None of Stiles’ antics ever seem to faze him. “I know you said not to bring anything, but…” He holds up a container of ice cream. “I figured you’d appreciate this.”

Stiles accepts the ice cream, tilting the carton to read the label. “Fudge ripple! I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he says, putting it in the freezer.

“Someone told me it was your favorite,” Jordan says, giving him a small smile.

“I gotta stop telling Scotty all my secrets,” Stiles says, grinning. “Let’s get the movie going. Dinner’s in the oven, we can eat in thirty.” He heads into the living room, and presses play once Jordan has joined him on the couch.

The watch The Fantastic Four while enjoying Stiles’ Santa Fe casserole, and even have a little fudge ripple for dessert.

“Well,” Stiles says as the credits roll, “at least now you’ll know what I mean when I yell flame on! at you.”

“Just call me Johnny Storm,” Jordan says boldly, doing his best impersonation.

Stiles laughs. “We’re definitely watching the sequel. You need to develop a repertoire of Johnny Storm quotes. It’ll be a great inside joke.”

“Okay, let’s watch it tonight,” Jordan says, turning toward Stiles on the couch. He looks very serious. “But first. The new Batman movie is coming out next weekend. Would you like to go see it with me?”

Stiles looks at him oddly. “You don’t really like Batman. Wouldn’t you rather see the James Bond flick?”

“I would, that’s true. But since I’m asking you on a date, I want to do something you like,” Jordan says patiently.

Stiles is so startled, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Is this a joke? Is there a hidden camera somewhere?” He makes a show of looking around suspiciously.

Jordan looks taken aback. “Why would you think that?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m just surprised, is all. You’re a mature, responsible adult, and I’m…kind of a mess, really. Not to mention, you’re way out of my league.”

“Stiles, there are no leagues,” Jordan says softly. “I like you. I like who you are, and I’d like to have a chance to know you better.” He thinks for a moment, then reaches into his wallet and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here, this should prove it,” he says, handing it to Stiles.

Carefully unfolding it, he notices the absurdly long title first: Jordan Parrish’s 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski. He can’t help but smile. What a dork.

Every number on the list except 7 has a check mark next to it. Each entry is neatly written, but some of them have messily-scribbled notes next to them. He carefully reads the entire thing:

 1.     Listen to him. (This should be easy, he loves to talk)

2.     Pay attention to his interests.

3.     Be honest. (He will doubt you if you lie)

4.     Give him a small gift, something he likes. (He likes food. And “nerd stuff”)

5.     Show him you care.

6.     Spend time with him.

7.     Ask him out!

  “This is a good plan,” Stiles says, trying to keep a straight face. “I like it. My plans usually involve a timeline, but still.” He thinks for a moment. “However, I’m pretty sure your plan is missing something.” He fishes a pen out from under the couch and, in a very secretive manner, adds something to Jordan’s list. He folds it once and hands it back.

Opening it, Jordan finds that Stiles has added a number 8 to the bottom of the list. Next to it, in large block letters, it says KISS HIM!

He grins when Stiles moves pointedly closer on the couch. He reaches out and strokes his fingers along Stiles’ cheek. “Guess that’s a yes to the date, then?” He leans forward and kisses Stiles right as he starts to agree.

Jordan’s caught him by surprise, but he recovers quickly. He lets his tongue brush against Jordan’s, teasing, savoring. It feels amazing, and he curls his fingers into Jordan’s shirt, trying to pull him closer. He kisses him deeper and swears he can actually feel the temperature rising. He pulls back, panting, but leaves his arms looped around Jordan’s shoulders.

Jordan is breathing hard, too. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips look plush and tempting. When he opens his eyes, his irises are nothing but burning flame.

“Wow, that’s really sexy,” Stiles says, and kisses him again.

They can watch the sequel tomorrow.