#* ——— you’re relying on a broken mirror. ╱ the outsider.

[astrolocherry]

The Archetypes of Venus in Libra - Dream Girls

The Venus in Libra individual spells a unique magical social charm. She really comes to animate astral form amongst receptive company, and feels substantial before those who are willing to look past the masks and marvellous masquerade of her personas.

Venus in Libra eyes become mirrors that reflect the bouquet rising from the heart of the onlooker. People see their own image of exquisite beauty in her, and often feel uplifted and content as a product of time spent with her. It’s also possible then that people feel subconsciously entitled to her attention, or that she belongs to them. She may even experience some form of obsession or fixation from a former lover, stranger, or close admirer.

Beyonce - Contrast of Feminine (Venus/Libra) with the Masculine (opposite Mars/Aries)  “You don't listen to her. You don't care how it hurts. But you’re just a boy..” Lorde - “Be a part of the love club. Everything will glow for you” Mya - "These streets for affection. I got you. ... What kinda of girl, you like? ... Tell me, am I your type?" Anna Nicole Smith - Dionysian-Venusian. Aphrodite’s Grotto branded ‘ Blonde Bombshell’ on earth Grace Kelly - The Three Graces of Venus. A film actress who later became royalty, penned memoir ‘Born to Be Aphrodite’

Parasol of Prettiness - Dignified, demure delicacy, and innocence. Admired from afar, misunderstood up close. Seemingly incorruptible. White dresses, flowers, lace. Maintains gracefulness and repose despite outside conditions Incurable style and aesthetic taste.

Bonne Belle -  Pure and pretty, amicable however possessing a wilfulness that refuses to submit to unbecoming demands. Charm effect and refined intelligence that is resourceful and often underestimated. While kind and cordial by nature, she will still speak up when witness to a violation or injustice 

Broken Cutie - Engaged, animate, witty, and charming. An altruism, innocence, and sweet sensitivity repeatedly bruised and irreparably damaged by external hands of Fate moving through other people 

“I Have You Now My Pretty” - arouses a sense of urgency to come to her rescue; her plight ultimately becomes a uniting force.

Lady Favour -  Her love interest’s promise and prized possession. Keeping her promise relies on staying alive and returning from battle (Mars).

Cherry

[krazyyyyyy]

Hey hey! I love your Geo (and Hyugo) work so much I wanted to make a request! If this is too much, or potentially graphic, just ignore this. :] Geo x reader who's suicidal/depressed, but hides it well. (totally not mirroring here nooo) Or Hyugo with the same prompt. Or both, whatever you want. Thank you in advance either way, and I hope you have an excellent week!

Always by your side ( Hyugo/ Depressed Reader)

TW: Suicidal thoughts, Mentions of Drug usage

Words: 1284

Notes: I'm so sorry if you're going through some difficult times at the moment. I hope this short little fic gives you a bit of comfort.

 When will it go away? Does it ever go away? Are you stuck with this? The heavy weight of misery tugs on your heart, causing a lingering ache in your chest that shows no signs of fading. You struggled to catch your breath, as your anxieties got the better of you, making you feel small and vulnerable.

You just wanted it all to end, the pain, the misery….everything. Every day, you woke up, things only got worse; food started to lose its taste, colors lost the vibrancy that used to bewitch you, and your hobbies seemed pointless and useless. At night, you would lie awake unable to sleep with the same question repeating in your head: ‘Is life worth living?’

You lean against your hands, which were clamped on your bathroom sink's counter. You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror; you looked a mess–a broken mess, with tears streaming down your cheeks and your hair out of place. What were you going to do with yourself?

A sudden tapping from outside the bathroom door startles you.“Y/N? You okay in there?” Hyugo’s muffled voice speaks from the other side of the door

You’re quick to wipe away the tears with the sleeves of your hoodie, composing yourself to the best of your abilities before speaking. How long have you been in here?

“Y-yeah, I’ll be out in a sec!” You prayed that he didn’t hear the strain in your voice, the last thing you wanted to do was worry him.

“Are you sure?” He persisted

“… Yeah, just need a minute.” You lay your head in your hands, as an instant migraine overwhelms you.

You hear him sigh, “Okay… Let me know if you need anything.” Faint footsteps let you know that he had walked away from the door, more than likely heading to the living room to watch another Sherlock Homes movie.

… Your pills… you have to go take your pills… they might be able to clear your head from all these dark thoughts. You hated having to rely on them every time you felt like this… but what other choice did you have?

You hated yourself even more, given the fact you took the pills behind Hyugo’s back. He remained unaware of your current mental state, as you did well to push all your feelings deep down inside, and then wear a smile to cover it all up. You hoped that your condition would get better with time and would disappear one day. But, instead, it got much worse with each passing day. Yet, you still didn’t have the heart to tell him about it; you knew he’d do anything to help you get better, but you couldn’t let him drop everything to help you…you didn’t deserve that from him.

After adjusting yourself, you give one last look in the mirror, before rushing out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. You kept the antidepressants hidden underneath a stack of clothes in your dresser, somewhere you thought Hyugo would never find them.

You’re quick to open and search the contents of the drawer for the pills, but to your horror, they are nowhere to be found. In an act of sheer desperation, you search through every single drawer in hopes that you have just misplaced them by mistake. Alas, the medication is still missing, meaning you would just have to go on without them until you got a new bottle. 

Your body shook anxiously, feeling the intense waves of depression hit you like a steel drum. There had to be something you could do to get rid of the emptiness that started to overwhelm you… Maybe watching that movie with Hyugo would take your mind off things…hopefully.

Closing all the drawers of your dresser, you stand up and start making your way toward the living room, which is right down the hall from your bedroom. 

After walking the short distance, you make it, but are immediately confused to find Hyugo standing in the middle of the living room with his back turned to you. He seemed to be intently looking at something he held in hand.

“Hyugo?” You called out to him, as you stepped closer to where he was standing. He remained unmoving where he stood, making you think he didn’t hear you at first. But after a brief moment, he finally turned his body to face you. He looked at you with worry and hurt in his eyes, nearly on the verge of tears. It broke your heart to see him look at you this way, and just when you were about to ask him what was wrong; your gaze shifted to what he held in his hand, and you instantly felt your heart drop.

In his hand, were the pills you had desperately tried to keep hidden from him for the longest time. Your secret was out, and now you had to deal with the backlash that came with it; this wasn’t something Hyugo wouldn’t let go so easily.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He gestures toward the pill bottle in his hand, his voice filled with deep hurt. After being together for a few months, he believed you two could tell each other anything…or at least he thought so. While you were in the bathroom, Hyugo, who could tell you were unwell, had opted to help you with some unfinished chores around your apartment. While putting away some of your folded clothes, he discovered the pills, and upon finding them, he felt his heart shatter. His mind was swarmed with questions, ‘Did you not trust him?’ ‘Was he the reason for your unhappiness?’

You choked back on a sob, “… I-I’m so sorry… I couldn’t… You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” Why should someone as bright and jovial as Hyugo have to deal with your darker, and painful inner struggles? This was supposed to be your fight…not his. 

Hyugo’s expression softens at your words. The hurt he had felt was eclipsed by the concern he had for you and your well-being. With the pill bottle falling to the floor, he reached out toward you, gently cupping your face in his hands, “Hey,” he spoke softly, with a warm smile on his face, “You don’t take to go through this alone, Whatever it is you're going through, I'm going to help through it. I’m here for you, always.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you meet his gaze, feeling the comfort and safety that his eyes often reflect. It hadn’t left completely, but the burden you felt had gotten just a bit lighter. With the unwavering support you received from your boyfriend, there was finally a glimpse of hope for the future.

“… I just…didn’t want to worry you,” you admit, tears streaming down your face. “I thought… I thought I could handle it on my own…”

Hyugo leaned down to press a soft kiss where a stray tear lingered on your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything by yourself, not when I’m here.” He said, his voice firm yet still cordial. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.“I love you, but please don’t hide things like this from me anymore.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you rest your chin on his shoulder, relishing his warmth. “I won’t… I promise,”. From your response, you can feel Hyugo smile into the base of your neck.

You may have a long journey ahead you toward getting better, but with Hyugo at your side, it felt as though you could accomplish anything.

And you couldn’t be any more grateful.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions 10: Every Rule

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 7401

Summary: Firefly takes some time for clarity and understanding about everything and everyone, including the role she plays in Dave's life and the one he plays in hers.

Warning: This chapter is incredibly PLOT heavy...and while it absolutely 100% includes Dave, is very focused on reader and her feelings for and about him. Angst. Religious symbolism. Angst. Violence. Angst. PiV sex - wrap it up lovahs, riding, mild restraints, creampie. Angst. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: Thanks to all my babes who encourage me to continue writing even though it can be fucking hard and so personal especially when you put your heart and soul into each character. Also, if you are familiar with the Equalizer trilogy then you will know and understand some of this.

@youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81 @drewharrisonwriter @guelyury

“Lying on top of you is one thing, but getting close to you is another. I feel close to you, one with you, you’re mine whether it is acknowledged or not.”—Henry Miller 

In the morning you awoke with a start, reaching for an alarm clock that didn’t sound, for a body that wasn’t there. Morning light whispered through the paper-thin curtains, shining on the bare stone wall. Working together with the gentle breeze from outside, a slow sense of calm began to hold you. Seabirds and salt air surrounded you as you opened a window—a wooden shutter with three slats crooked, broken, and beautiful, the only barrier to a rectangle shaped hole in the stone.

Slow and easy, sometimes boring—those were your mornings since you had arrived. You stumbled through the first few days like an infant taking its first steps. No electronics, no real connection to the outside world, relying on shuffling through pages of a pocket-sized English to Italian dictionary to navigate your way through the occasional brief conversations you had with the Altamonte locals as you gathered your bearings.  

The constant overthinking presented an obstacle to overcome. By your eighth day there, the simplicity of life wouldn’t allow it. Neighbors shouted morning greetings through open and bright green shutters as you dressed. A t-shirt, white and crisp, a pair of well-loved jeans, and a black leather jacket finished with a pair of white sneakers. A uniform or sorts, you thought, as you descended the stairs from your apartment. A passerby could have been a mirror image of you just by clothing alone. Was this what people meant by “dressing like a local”?

At a nearby café, your ability to blend in was tested as you found your place in a sea of color neutrality, sitting at the lone empty table near the front door. A youthful and friendly server who looked to be no older than 17 approached you, her raven curls atop her head bounced when she stopped. Not a line tempered her smooth, dark olive skin as she flipped open her notepad with a smile. 

“Cosa desidera Lei?” 

“Un caffe per fevore,” you replied, with the young server nodding in acknowledgement at your order. 

From your purse you grabbed a journal of worn, brown leather. Its corners curled upward from opening and closing it frequentlly The pages lay ruffled and beaten with the gift of constant use. Your fingers also grasped a pen lost in the depths of your bag that met you like an old friend that had come to save you in your time of need. The ink flowed from your pen to the paper as you wrote about the salt air, the distant cawing of seagulls skimming the shore, and the mist of calm that seemed to settle over every corner of the town.

You turned your head to look through the clean windows into the cafe to observe the locals—individuals, couples, families. The images of them gleamed like reflections on a stream. In the window, you imagined Dave next to you—a mirage, a specter haunting and present no matter how hard you tried to push it away. In the back of your head, you asked yourself: Do I really want to? 

“Buongiorno!” a voice rich and deep in time and timber reached out to you. 

A newly familiar face greeted you. His hands, like his voice, showed evidence of assuredness through lines of time and wisdom that were beginning to settle on the backs of his hands. The smile lines on his face were set dark and deep into his face, indisputable evidence of living. 

“Buongiorno, Dottore!” you exclaimed, standing up to take his hands and give him a kiss on each cheek. 

“Everyday, at the same time, I see you here,” the rich melody of his voice and the kind smile he gave you managed to whisk away the chill that coursed through your blood, if only for a moment. 

“Well, the calm is a nice…change,” you mused and paused for a moment, contemplating if you really believed your own words.

Enzo settled down in the chair next to you, the smile beneath his mustache was warm and fatherly.  As he sat next to you, the young server returned carrying two small cups of coffee for both you and Enzo. You observed closely as Aminita, as Enzo lovingly called her, greeted him with greater familiarity than you had combined with an even greater respect. He spoke to her with the kindness of a doting grandfather. Bits and pieces of their melodic words met your ears, the depths of your brain manipulating them until you worked out their meaning in English. 

“So, what have you seen since you have been here?” Enzo inquired as he settled into a chair next to you. 

“Oh, it’s only been a few days, but,” you sighed with a dramatic pause, “just having the ocean right here has been more than enough.” 

Enzo smiled back at you and his eyes glimmered with excitement and wonder. It was the kind of gleam that you had only seen among young children and the old. Pressing his hands together he stood up and waved at you in a gesture for you to finish your coffee. You sipped as quickly as you could, your coffee just on the right side of warm---the cozy kind of warmth that wrapped you in an invisible hug on a cold day. 

“Andiamo,” he urged you as you swallowed the last of it. “Come on, I’ll show you the real Altomonte.” 

“Ok, ok!” you replied, conceding to him. 

Uncomfortably, you chugged the last bit of coffee with an audible hiss before you stood up. You took quick steps over the cobblestone streets as you followed Enzo. His gait was quick and determined for a 60-year-old. A smile curled at the corners of your lips as you watched him skip ahead of you with more excitement than a tour guide being paid to show you the village.  

He walked you through one of the many archways of the town, this one longer than others. The path was just wide enough to allow for the regular flow of movement brought to life by the villagers. What greeted you through the arch was more life than you had expected, not dark and dank as you had presumed. Nestled along the stone walls were market vendors selling homemade wears of rosaries, crucifixes made of wood from olive trees, and hand-embroidered scarves delicately adorned with intricate, swirling designs. You could feel your mouth drop open in awe as you caressed your fingers along a deep blue scarf with two white lilies embroidered at each corner. You were certain that the elderly woman who made this was grossly underestimating the time and talent it took her  to fashion such a unique and beautiful item. A small, rectangular piece of paper lay on top of the scarf and written in ballpoint pen was the price of a mere 50 euros. 

“Beautiful, yes?” Enzo remarked with a smile. 

His eyebrows were raised as he looked back at you. Reaching into your purse you pulled out your beige, leather pocketbook to procure a one hundred euro note. It called to you, that foreign feeling that you so rarely experienced of reaching for something that you just knew you had to have. It had only happened once before.

Your hand trembled slightly as you handed the woman the euro note, a sign of the thoughts of Dave that took hold of you. As the woman took it, the wrinkles around her smoothed from her wide-open eyes. The look of shock overcame her as she examined the note. She waved at you, her tone an odd mixture of gratitude and scolding that could come only from a strong Italian woman. 

“Ti prego di prenderlo,” you insisted in as humble a tone as you could. “E magnifica.” 

You watched in earnest as Enzo spoke to the woman, conceding to her and talking her down until she stared back at you with a satisfied glimmer in her eye while handing you the scarf. Immediately, you tied it loosely around your shoulders while following Enzo’s lead ahead of you. As you sauntered through the cobble stoned streets, Enzo pointed out the fish market. The owner, Angelo, waved at you alongside his wife and son as they proudly arranged fresh fish on piles of ice—waiting for villagers to snatch them up for their evening meal.

The sunlight greeted you on the other end of the archway, where ancient stone walls guarded each side and where Enzo stood at the foot of a steep set of stairs. He turned around to you and gestured towards the steps with excitement surging through his fingertips. 

“Have you gone up to visit the church?“

Your gaze followed Enzo’s upward to a church set into the mountains, that stood proud with its pristine ivory in color that was brighter against the lush, green foliage of the mountainside. A hint of premature frustration crept beneath your skin as you mentally took in the slope of the stairs. You were in good shape, you had to be. Yet your legs automatically ached with a phantom pain that you knew would come from traversing the steep climb to the church. 

Enzo gestured for you to come over, picking up one foot after another over narrow and steep stairs. The waves of the Mediterranean crashed over the walls guarding the village. The fresh salt air traveled with the breeze until it began to dance in your hair. 

“Climb these steps every day and you’ll be young the rest of your life,” he teased, “That is my doctor’s order for you.”

Something between a laugh and a gasp escaped you before he gestured for you to catch up. When you finally did, your eyes settled on the weathered rock as the air caressed your hair and your lungs filled with deep, cooling breath that led to a wistful sigh. 

“Come on, old man!” You took the chance to take a break from your jog to rib your dark-haired companion as he fought to catch his breath standing amidst a steep, but beautiful set of stairs.

You rocked your hips back and forth as you kept your feet bouncing from side-to-side in a stationary jog. He looked up at you, gathering his hands at his hips as sweat began to gather at the center of his charcoal-colored t-shirt, clinging to his lean, but broad-shouldered form. Not one speck of amusement found itself on his face as he glared at you. The steadiness of his stare caused you to slow your jog to merely stepping your feet beneath you. When a smile finally slid over the surface of his pouty lips, his eyes bore into you, heavy, dark, and tempting --- the look of the devil you always wanted to know. 

“I’ll be generous,” you recalled him saying, his words dripping like the sweetest nectar from the most forbidden flower, “and give you a head start.” 

“Just like you to assume I need one,” you challenged as you stood above him, placing your hands on your hips. 

He readied himself a few steps below you, a determined glint in his brown eyes that sent a chill scurrying up and down your spine. Simultaneously, it sent a warm, throbbing sensation at your center as he looked you up and down. He doubled down on his threat, setting himself in a starting stance to race up the stairs. You followed suit, turning your back away from him, trying to keep your focus ahead of you. His very presence behind you already threatened to consume you and though he was steps below you, you swore you could feel the heat of his exhales rippling on the back of your neck.

And with no warning, he spoke, “Run.” 

The memory of you leaping up the stairs traveled through your feet as you slowly made your way up the steep stairs leading to the church. It was silly really—the present was just a moving dichotomy of your memory. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. Doing so would have meant certain defeat. An feeling of nervousness mixed with intrigue filled you as you ran, ran, ran as fast as you could. The sense of him gaining on you heightened through every pore. Your feet pounded on the steps and your arms swung tightly with each quick stride. Quick breaths rattled from your lips as you focused your eyes to the top of the majestic stairs. Cockiness lined your lips into a premature victory smile, when you suddenly felt a pair of hands grab at your hips, forcing you to slow down to a rhythm that matched his body. You felt the heat of his warm fingers wrapped around your elbow as he pulled you into a dark, concealed alley. Breathing even harder than when you were running, Dave pressed you against the wall, his hips rolling against yours. 

His face was so close that you could smell the clean, yet intoxicating sweat that collected upon his skin that had been made golden with Sicilian sun. Each breath he drew was quick and in time with yours. A quick gasp escaped you as you felt his warm hand lower to skim the waist of your leggings, his thick fingers. A shiver circulated through your body as he toyed with the elastic band. 

“When are you going to learn, Firefly?” he growled into your ear, his lips brushing at your neck and earlobe. “I’m always going to catch you.”

***

“Bella! Bella!” 

Enzo’s voice sounded through the cloud of your memory. Without even really being cognizant of it, you had made it to the top of the ancient stairs. The breeze blew stronger at this height, whipping your hair across your face. As you brushed your waves back, your eyes beheld how the wind danced on the rich, blue water and how it made ripples that shimmered with the golden sun. 

“You see, all this makes Altamonte,” he gestured to the church, the statues, and the paintings of the woman. 

You stared at the wonder and pride in his eyes. Somehow, you knew he meant more than just this place. If he could, he would just stretch his arms from here to the ocean. From his voice that trembled with pride and from the gleam that shined in his eyes, you knew. Only an act of God could wash it away. 

“Come in child,” he said, as he gestured you over to the door of the church. 

“Oh no, I’m not religious,” you said as your shoulders shrunk from the discomfort of the words. 

You didn’t need proselytizing. 

“You think she cares?” Enzo asked, already halfway through the threshold of the church. “But you choose.”

Humoring him, you stepped inside. An unexpected shiver oscillated, tapped, and pricked over your body. Goosebumps arose beneath your sweater. The cold that lived in the walls easily could have trapped you, threatening to take away whatever life you felt beneath your skin. Instead, it invigorated you as they made union with the warm colors of the sun that painted the walls of church like they were her own, personal canvas. You peeked through the windows that let that light in. Each had a perfect view of the village. The beauty had you holding your breath as you marveled at how the stone buildings gathered together and overlooked the bluest water you’d ever seen. 

When you finally let yourself breathe again, you found a seat next to Enzo. He knelt in reverence, his eyes closed and hands clasped together. The flicker of several candles set the room aglow, his flame burning brightly among the many. 

You, on the other hand, sat with quiet patience. It was more like a museum to you. Your eyes settled over the statues and paintings that adorned the church. So much adoration for a woman filled in a church that was ostensibly governed by men. 

Maybe they had it wrong, you thought. Maybe the church was meant to be built upon the shoulders of a matriarch who chose her path of raising a leader, instead of a girl who was bestowed the gift of raising a savior. The way these thoughts meandered through your mind was nearly enough to make you laugh. Sometimes you shouldn’t be left to your own thoughts. 

Enzo settled back into pew in the empty space next to you. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned his head to you. His eyes softened in concern. A slight discomfort pressed onto your shoulders as you navigated your response to the kindness. 

“People always come and rest here, some pray, some meditate until they find an answer,” Enzo said, his voice imbued with the notes of great wisdom. “Even me.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. 

“And you, too, correct?” He asked. 

He didn’t even entertain you with the space or time to answer, not that you had one to give him. Not one that was truthful by any means. Instead, you nodded and waited for whatever wisdom he was ready to give you.  

“I don’t judge,” he stated with a look so deep with thought and an undercurrent of pain that you knew his words were true, “Nothing good comes from it.” 

He sighed again. The weight of whatever memory he was holding was heavy on his shoulders. The tired lines around his eyes seemed to grow in real time, a remnant of the pain that remained.            

“I’m not trying to…ehm…intrude in your personal business,” he paused to find the words, “but are you really here for rest, to find peace, as you say? Or…are you running from something?” 

And there it was: the truth. It had never left. In that moment you could have felt anger, maybe something bordering on hatred for someone cornering the truth out of you. But you didn’t, not this time. You met the doctor’s gaze with the same hesitancy of a child who was hiding something from a parent. Without words, he knew the answer but bore no judgment against you. Instead, he patted you reassuringly on the hand as you took in the warmth of the flickering flames at the altar. 

The sky was a bolder blue against the midday sun as you took your sojourn back to the main square. It seemed impossible that you’d spent as much time in the church as you had. Enzo held onto your arm lightly as you climbed down the steep stairs. A steady stream of pedestrians began to fill the cobblestone streets as you ambled through corridors from which you came. As you walked through the town, the warm and smiling faces of the locals continued to greet you even as Enzo departed from you to continue with his day. 

The remainder of your day moved in an ethereal mixture of fast and slow. From the time you made it back into town you were able to stroll along the seashore, allowing yourself to bathe in the wind as you dug your toes in the sand to buying bread from the local bakery and enjoying it with a cup of tea you watched the sky melt into shades of coral, purple, and then blue as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. 

As a deeper blue settled in the sky, the evening sounds of Altamonte whispered in a different way than the sounds of the morning. The vibrations were buzzed with an energy that was somehow  enlivening but calming at the same time. It should have called you to join everyone. Instead, you let the sounds energize through the open window of your apartment. And you waited as the locals left the restaurants, drunkenly and lovingly alive. The whispers of the night called you as they always had, as they always would. While the citizens of Altamonte were beginning to turn in for the night, you dressed yourself and immersed yourself in the comfort of the late night. 

You approached a restaurant a few blocks from your apartment. A low, heavy feeling struck you in your stomach. Something pulled at your shoulders, tight and aggressive until it pressed and pulled at the skin of your throat. The invisible intensity threatened you with an unsettling and ominous aggression. You tensed into defensive mode as you moved closer and closer to the scene. Loud clatters of silverware and the dragging of chairs against the cobblestone streets set you into a stance that you only ever needed when a job with Dave and the team called for it. 

You dashed with light steps across the cobblestone to gain a better vantage point of the situation. Despite yourself, you heard Dave’s voice in your head as though he was walking you through a training exercise. 

“Your brain is your best asset. Read, know, and breathe the situation and you have the upper hand.” 

You slinked closer as your eyes focused on the situation before you. The threat: two men. His frame was wiry. He couldn’t have been more than 5’9” you surmised. His dark, wavy hair was slicked back, and the ends curled just past his ears. What he lacked in stature he made up for with menace. His stare was wide and manic as he loitered among the tables strutting forward towards a beautiful, young waitress who’d been cleaning the tables outside. The thin man’s counterpart was noticeably taller and more physically imposing. He stood with an unwavering posture, his wide shoulders. He had a closely cropped haircut, and a brow that dipped down into a deep frown that seemed permanently affixed to his face. 

Fear darkened the face of a young woman’s face as the thin man continued to advance on her, trapping her among tables and  into a corner. The owner, her father, stood in the doorway, his feet ready to stomp forward and rescue his daughter. A few strands of her hair fell over her face as she gestured to him to stay inside the restaurant. Two heavy and threatening hands belonging to the burly crony pushed her father back impeding any heroic action he might attempt. The thumping of your heartbeat was fast and loud in the silence of the night, fast enough and loud enough for you to take a deep breath with the hopes of calming it.

“Collateral damage is always messy and always a liability. Blend in: the less remarkable you are, the less of a target you become.”

With Dave’s instruction resonating in your head, you closed in on the restaurant picking up your pace to a light jog. The thin goon continued to advance upon the young woman as her father struggled against the tall man’s hold, keeping their attention from you. It was as though panic traversed through her body the closer you came. The fear that seemed to hide behind her eyes thumped toward you, pumping you with adrenaline and readiness. He held her hostage with a lascivious scowl as he pushed a strand of hair from her face. His hands grabbed the back of her neck, each finger white with violence as he dragged her forward, her skin already red with pain beneath his vice grip. Both men, so arrogant against the struggle of their captives, paid you no attention. 

“Let them underestimate you, then you can always find a way to get the upper hand.” 

All at once a scream from the waitress, yells, and grunts from her father as he struggled, rose in the air as you lunged towards the thin man forcing his grip from the young woman. Adrenaline pumped through every one of your veins as you pulled his thumb backwards and shoved him back with concentrated strength as you simultaneously pulled the gun that he so arrogantly placed in the waistline of his pants. Losing his footing, he stumbled backwards to the ground. You stood protectively in front of the girl as his brutish sidekick attempted to lunge toward you. 

The man raised his eyebrows for a moment and lifted the corner of his lips into a disgusting smirk. He was big and monstrous. You analyzed how each movement was stifled by how grotesquely bulbous his muscles were. Your foot was already hooked to the leg of one of the metal chairs closest to you. In the second he lunged in your directions, you lifted and ejected the chair at his solar plexus. With an additional, forceful stomp of your foot to his chest that knocked him to the ground. 

In the time it had taken you to knock them to the ground, the waitress and her father had escaped inside, and the sound of a police horn approached quickly. You looked down on the two men and brushed a few wayward strands of hair from your face. Adrenaline rushed from your veins to the tips of your fingers. 

The two men stood up, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles of their expensive Italian suits. The thin man glared at you with his hand placed protectively at his chest. It burned still from the pain you inflicted upon him. 

“I think that’s your signal to leave,” you stated with a voice as steadfast as your stance. You kept your hands tightly on his firearm.

With one more snarl, the men disappeared into the night. The motor of their car rumbled off, growing quieter the further they drove into the night. It was silent and more of Dave’s words surrounded you. 

“Never call attention to yourself, but if you have no choice, you need a plan to leave fast.”

The young waitress and her family looked at you, their eyes gleaming with grateful tears. The only thing you felt you could give was a nod. Receiving gratitude, handshakes, and hugs weren’t anything you were prepared or willing to receive. You just weren’t built for it. 

You rushed away using shadows and looking over your shoulder anytime you found yourself in the light. When you arrived back at your apartment, you set your already neatly folded clothes inside your suitcase. It was another trick Dave had taught you. 

Cellphone. Passport. Wallet. Keys. 

With all of them accounted for, it was time to go. You stared at the gun that you had taken from the thin man. You tried to sift through your options of discarding the weapon, when slow, quiet knocks tapped at your door. In an instant you were pressing your back to the wall, sliding along as you made your way towards the door with the thug’s weapon in your hand. It wasn’t in your itinerary to take care of two gangsters on your vacation. 

One, two, three deep breaths.

The knocks became quicker and more urgent. You listened closely for any noises that would alert you to the kind of weapons they had. Just as you reached to open the door you heard a familiar voice through the door.  

“Child, it’s me: the dottore!” 

You wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heightened vigilance had settled over your neck and shoulders holding you in a position that disallowed it. 

“Enzo,” you finally called out after much deliberation, “are you alone?”

With immediacy, he replied, “Yes!” 

His voice was as steady and confident as a surgeon who was moments away from performing life-saving surgery. You analyzed it, homing in on its lack of fluctuations, listening for any indication that someone else might be standing next to him waiting for you. You drew one more breath and opened the door. Seeing Enzo standing on the other side alone allowed you to let go of the breath you held in your chest. He rushed past you, closing the door behind him. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“I heard what happened.” 

“How did you--,” you began to ask. 

“I know everything in this town,” he stated plainly, as he looked you directly in the eyes. “Where is the weapon?” 

You felt your brow immediately furrow at his request. This was the kind of situation Dave urged you not to find yourself in. Trusting people, feeling for people, even giving a little bit of yourself to anyone would be a folly in your line of work. One that would certainly get you killed. 

“No, not happening Enzo,” you insisted as you shook your head. “I cannot get you involved.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” 

You stared back at him, feeling a pressure of disbelief and gratitude as he held his hand towards you with a dish rag that he had pulled from a kitchen drawer. You pressed your lips tightly together and a painful sting of tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. Enzo reached his hand out to you again. 

“Are you a good person or a bad person?” 

An unfamiliar feeling of confusion, guilt, and sadness came over you. One that had you re-evaluating nearly everything. 

You replied to Enzo tearfully, “I don’t know.”

He stepped forward and offered you his fatherly stare. The one you felt was so undeserved. 

“Only a good person would say that.”

It was at that moment, you wondered, maybe, if Dave had it all wrong. 

You looked back at Enzo with a look that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. There were no words that existed that held enough magnitude to describe it. You grabbed your things quickly, looking at him once more before you walked out the door. He gave your arm a reassuring squeeze and you pulled him in for a hug. You held him tight, your hands nearly squeezing to the point where neither of you could breathe, shaking as you let him go. 

“Non dimenticare mai chi sei, cocca,” he said followed by a kiss to your forehead that instantly made you feel like you were truly cared for.

And with one last look, you disappeared into the night. The cool air met you and the sound of ocean waves ascended to your ears. Each smell and sound engulfing you and holding you in what you wished was a long goodbye. The bittersweetness of your tears met the corner of your lips. Yet somehow, each event, each choice, and each movement you made reminded you that all of this was just as it was supposed to be. 

***************************

The last 24 hours blasted by you like a bullet train. Everything around you moved in a blur while your body somehow moved at a pace slower than everything around you. You moved through each moment with an exhausted automaticity: getting off the plane, getting a taxi , and finding your way home. 

With caution still at its peak, you entered your home. You checked every room and every closet two times until you felt certain that no one had followed you from Italy. You held your phone in your hand staring at the black screen, contemplating if you should even turn it back on. With a long sigh you pushed the buttons at the side of your phone, setting it quickly aside on your nightstand before running to the bathroom to avoid any notification like they were a plague. 

You stepped into your spacious shower, jumping a little as cold water met your skin before gradually raining on your body with much needed warmth. You stepped out of the shower, drying off before wrapping yourself with your towel. You shook your hair with your fingers until your wet waves rested at your shoulder. A notification appeared on your phone connected to your security system.

Filling your lungs with a deep and steady breath you walked towards your kitchen to pour yourself a drink of water. Standing in silence, leaning against your kitchen counter, stood Dave. His eyes stayed only on you with his hands crossed over his chest. He was wearing his best poker face: no anger, no fear, no hate…but for a moment you spotted it: an inkling of relief, a hint of regret, a glint of—? No you wouldn’t let yourself welcome the thought.

You brushed past him, pouring yourself some water. You looked up at him, no words leaving either of your lips. The water was cold, refreshing, and awakening on your lips. As you walked past him back to your you could practically feel him seething. Coming at you like heat waves but bouncing off you as you kept your cool. 

Staring back at him from the end of the hallway just outside your bedroom you called to him.

“Are you coming to bed or not?”

You swore you heard a sigh of exasperation escape him as he crept towards you with his hands on his hips — the way he always did when he was particularly frustrated. Satisfied by his inescapable allure towards you, you turned away from him, confident in the knowledge that he would follow you. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Dave spoke as he perused your hair, your eyes, your face, your skin, “I’m impressed you were able to be off the grid for as long as you did.”

“I don’t think that matters much now,” you declare looking up at him as he moved towards you. “I’m back.”

Dave took his hands to caress your face, his grip against your skin pressed with the perfect amount of firmness. A faint shine of gratitude emanated from his eyes. He would never say it, but you could see it. You could feel it from the touch of his hands and by the warmth emanating from his body—he missed you. 

It was enough. You pulled one hand from your face bringing it down to where your towel wrapped around your body in a tight tuck. With firm guidance you made him pull the towel off your body letting it tumble to the floor. His eyes darkened and he shook his head with a smirk near disbelief as he admired your body. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful as ever.” He groaned as he grabbed at the front of his pants. 

Nearly a month without him, not one text or phone call…by your own design. Forgetting him wasn’t the answer. Understanding yourself in your entirety always led back to the same conclusion: you were his. 

Not able to wait a moment more, you grabbed him by his dark sweatshirt pulling it over his head and tossing it away. You didn’t think you’d taken a pair of pants off a man faster in your life. His breaths came heavy and fast as you pulled him towards you, admiring his naked body as he did yours. 

And then you kissed him.

After so long without him, the fire that sparked from touching him burned hotter than ever. You pulled his body to yours so tightly that your breasts pressed onto his chest, feeling each desperate breath that rose and fell over him. Somehow your arms found their way around his broad shoulders while he wrapped his around you, his hands grabbing your ass massaging up your back, until his fingers are threading themselves in your hair. 

Your kisses were an exploration of renewal, of remembrance of how each other tasted while also, somehow, feeling brand new. His tongue had never been so needy before. The gruff moans that released from his mouth were so different and more unbidden than you’d remembered. And his cock, his lovely, thick, uncut cock, was so hard against your lower belly. The tip already cried for you with precum. 

With one swift movement you spun around and shoved him to the bed. His eyes widened with devilish excitement as he spread his limbs across the expanse of your bed. His cock stood at attention for you, ready to comply with your every demand. 

You crawled towards him, like a black cat slinking in the dark. The smell of him was so musky, salty, and clean as you lowered your face and then your mouth to the tip of his manhood. Holding the warmth of him again felt like a gift as he throbbed in your hands. The taste was even better as you took in the precum onto your lips and then your tongue, each taste bud lighting you up with desire. 

He moaned, his hand hitting your pillow with a thump as your mouth and tongue continued to worship him. 

“Oh shit, fuck!” He growled as he gripped your sheets. 

Not even close to satisfied you lifted your face from your handiwork, tucking your hair behind your ear. You glided forward over his body, giving him another kiss before straddling him, only letting him feel the outer lips of your wet cunt. He reached his hips upward for you.

“Tsk, ah ah ah,” you crooned, teasing him with another grind of your hips, “not til you beg for it.” 

“Fuck, Firefly, fuck—!” 

You moved your hips again. 

Dave couldn’t stop the moans that came from his beautiful lips. So beautiful, you traced your thumb over them. 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

You grew wetter with each teasing press of your hips. 

An unintelligible and wanton groan came from him. 

You tugged him by the hair, his eyes staying on yours and his brows angled downward in a combination of anger, frustration, and desire unique to him. 

“Tell me, daddy.”

“Fuck, s—so fucking sexy,” he groaned. “Fuck I’ve missed this, your fucking body, my pussy.”

It was all you needed to hear.

You lifted your hips and braced your hand on his chest before you slowly began to sink over his cock. You bit your lower lip as you felt each thick inch of him enter you until he was so deep you could go no further. Pressing your hands onto his soft belly you began to move. Just that nearly sent him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Firefly, how are you even better than I remember?“ Dave praised, as he gripped your thighs with his hands. 

You rolled your hips slowly against his, adjusting to his thick size in your tight pussy. A shuddering breath left your quivering lips. With each bounce and roll of yourself on his massive member turned your breaths into loud and melodic moans. Not wanting to lose yourself just yet, you pressed your lips tighter together the more rhythmic your pace became. His cock throbbed within you, feeling impossible deeper with each move you made. 

“Ah, my god!” You whined, unable to keep silent as Dave suddenly thrust his hips upwards to match your moves. “God, your cock is so good.”

Dave could only muster a gruff moan before interlacing his fingers between yours. You could feel his breath becoming more erratic with each move of your tight cunt over his cock. His hands began to squeeze yours tighter and tighter as your pussy squeezed him.

With a quick forward movement of your hips, his hard member popped out from inside you. 

“Ahh, fuck!” He moaned as he gritted his teeth in frustration at the loss of your wet center around him. 

You climbed off Dave and reached over to your nightstand, pulling a rope from the drawer. You straddled his waist while fashioning a strong knot around his wrists, tying him to your bed frame. He looked up at you, hazy and hungry to feel his cock sheathed in the tightest walls of your pussy. A smirk unfurled itself on his lips as you rocked yourself along his shaft, anointing him with your nectar. 

“How does it make you feel,” Dave spoke, the sound coming from the deepest part of his throat, “thinking you have some kind of control?” 

The words stopped your gyrations and brought your face an inch from his. You could feel your breath circling his lips, close enough that you could see them quiver. With a strong squeeze of your right hand to his face you licked from his chin to just above his lips before kissing him. Your tongue parted his lips with a firm swipe, leading his tongue into a dance he had no choice but to follow. The way your bed frame rattled as you looked down upon him told you more than any words from him could say. 

“So you’re telling me this,” you squeezed and rubbed his cock with the tightest fist you could make around him, “is the gift I get after being gone for so long?”

You slinked your hips back down, teasing his cock with your opening. With the most sultry intent, you stoked his primal want for you, not settling onto him right away. The way he continued to fight against the taut rope around his wrists sent chills that emanated from your center.  He’d never say it, but you certainly knew everything he fought against confessing.  

Generosity began to sneak over you and you allowed him to fill you as you lowered onto him, inch by throbbing inch. And as though your life, your everything, depended on it, you took him for a ride. Consuming, savoring, and indulging in every delicious, warm, and pulsing inch. You brought him to the edge of ecstasy only to bring him back. Your bodies devolved into a beautiful mess of sweat and desire.

Until it was time. Neither of you could hold back. You clutched the headboard as your hips bounced vigorously on his cock. You looked into his eyes and he into yours until you both came with a hot, violent shaking of your body and an uncontrollable thrust from his hips up to yours. Together you filled the walls of your bedroom with a duet of rapturous groans and sobs of euphoria. 

Still holding him inside you, you graciously removed the bindings from his wrist. With urgency, he circled his hands around your waist until they gave your ass one more squeeze. The warmth of his hands traveled up your back and worked through more of your waves before they pulled you in for a kiss. Simultaneously hot and chilly aftershocks of your orgasm trembled through your body before you lifted yourself off him. 

“Goddamn,” he sighed, his voice cracking as you collapsed on top of him.

Minutes passed like hours as you breathed in time with one another. In the silence, you listened closely to each other's sounds. The unexpected feeling of his hand beginning to your hair startled you. He stopped for a moment surprised by your reaction, slowing the movement of his hand, wrapping his arm around you to caress your shoulder with an embrace. He slowed the racing of your heart with more slow breaths and a barely audible hush from his lips. You could feel the intentional slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, your eyes growing heavy until both of you fell into the arms of a deep sleep. 

Late into the night, you stirred with one arm tucked close to you and the other draped lightly over Dave’s. The hum of your ceiling fan drummed peacefully in your ears as your eyes fluttered lightly looking at his form lying next to you. You almost surrendered yourself back to sleep when a sudden thrashing motion shook you awake. 

You propped yourself up and saw Dave tossing next to you, sweat beading at his forehead. His voice started with quiet mumbles, groans, and bellows that shook with anger and fear. You reached over to him, gently caressing his forehead. 

“Dave…Dave?” You started gently. 

He continued to writhe as his brow furrowed and wrinkled his forehead. 

“S--, no, S-- Sa---,” he called out, still trapped in his nightmare. 

“Dave, it’s me!” You said more firmly wrapping his face with your hands. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

He awoke, startled as he looked at you with wild eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, wetting your mouth with a soft warm touch of his tongue, before turning your back to his chest and wrapping you in his arms. He thread his fingers between yours, kissing your shoulders. He murmured words you were almost certain he was unaware of before drifting back to sleep.  A demand? A request? A plea?

“Stay,” his voice breathed through the silence as he gripped you tighter against his warm body, “just stay.”

[distant-velleity]

Brotherhood

Regis backstory snippet (≧▽≦) Please enjoy this quick story!!

~

The worn-down, empty apartment wasn’t so empty anymore. 

Aki went from appliance to appliance, fixing up a cup of tea. As he slowly stirred it, he glanced back over his shoulder. 

The outworld teen sat at the roughed-up island counter, silently nursing her injuries. Her torn skin was already beginning to mend itself. She didn’t look back at him, and instead looked blankly at the marble countertop. Her Mirror of Transcendence laid there, covered by a sterile rag.

She seemed… lonely and downcast. Aki supposed anyone who had just been stranded on a different planet would be.

“So,” he said, leaning over and sliding the cup to her. “What’s your name, kid?”

“R…” The teen hesitated. “...Regis.”

Aki got the feeling that wasn’t her real name. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t as if ‘Aki’ was his birth name either.

“I’m Aki, though you prolly already figured that out.” He rested his arms on the counter. “Where ya from?”

He didn’t mention that he asked because of the rose-like markings on her skin.

Silence filled the dusty kitchen. Regis eyed her Mirror of Transcendence. 

It was a long time before she finally said, “▮▮▮▮▮.”

In other words, the Garden Star of Beauty.

Aki grimaced internally, his hunch confirmed. Being from a neighboring star system, he had heard all sorts of things about that place, and none of it was good.

A vicious long-lived species with an average lifespan even exceeding that of the Xianzhou people. Political and religious hell. Underlying conflict between worshippers of Yaoshi and those of Idrila. He’d even come across a rumor that when the people of the native species inevitably succumbed to insanity, their bodies would transform into monstrous, mutated plants.

No wonder ‘home’ was such a touchy subject for Regis.

“Gotcha,” Aki replied. He gave her a quick once-over: the gash on her face had already mended itself in the time they were speaking, leaving only scarred tissue behind. “And you’re a Mirror Holder, huh?”

Regis nodded without saying anything.

Outside, ▮▮▮’s only star began to set. The entire city was suddenly awash in vivid colors, colors that would soon give way to darkness and artificial light.

Aki cursed under his breath and closed the blackout curtains over the kitchen window. Then, in the brief moment of pitch blackness, he relied on habit to find the lightswitch again.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he told Regis, who only tilted her head.

“Why do you need to…” 

She didn’t finish her sentence, but Aki got the gist of what she was asking.

“Let’s just say I’ve made a lot of enemies.” His bad ankle throbbed. “And I’ve got no intention of letting those rats get a peek at my apartment when they’re the most active.”

“Are your enemies the same people who stole the Providence?” Regis asked. 

So that was the name of her spacecraft.

“Yeah. You were really unlucky—they normally don’t have guys skulking about during the daytime.” 

Regis’ mouth set in a serious line. “Well, I’m not going to just let them take it,” she muttered, sounding the most angry Aki had seen her so far. “It’s mine. And more importantly… I can’t stand the way they laughed as they took it apart.”

The bitter venom that laced her words reminded Aki of himself a few years prior—a broken little boy who took the bloodstained hand that reached out from the shadows, building up a brotherhood of outcasts because the rest of the world rejected him.

To put it simply, Regis had potential.

“Then,” he started, “let me and my guys help out. No one knows those bastards better than us.”

He meant it as an honest proposal, but Regis stared at him like he had abruptly grown a second head.

“Help… me,” she echoed disbelievingly.

Aki crossed his arms and gave her a wry but genuine smile.

“Defend our own, protect the innocent, avenge the wronged. That’s what our creed boils down to.” He held up two fingers. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re innocent ‘cause you had nothing to do with our business at first, but you’ve been wronged anyway. That’s two reasons to help you out.”

Regis still didn’t seem to believe him. For a follower of Idrila, she was unique in her skepticism.

“Mirror Holder or not, I know an outcast when I see one,” continued Aki. “Me and my brothers—we’re all people like you. Maybe you’ll be leaving this planet behind a week, a month from now, but there ain’t a reason for us to not lend a hand now.”

“...For now,” Regis conceded, standing up from her stool. “If you can help me get my ship back, then that’s all that matters.”

Well, it was good enough. Some people needed to see actions more than words. Aki understood.

“Glad to have you with us, then.”

He extended his hand to her like his own “sister” did for him so many years ago.

Regis took it.

[enigmatist17]

Hidden Road

Not sure why I can't find the previous chapter to this, but you can find it here <3

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

The goggles in her hands felt so heavy. It felt so wrong to hold them, they were designed to be used and worn, not sit on a cold table or be cradled like glass.

Phee wished she could put them right where they belonged.

When the Marauder emerged from the clouds, Phee was overjoyed. It had been over a month since she had heard from her boys, and while their mission probably called for radio silence, the liberator of ancient wonders had missed them terribly. Well, one more than the others, but they weren’t all bad, so to see their ship made her smile as she rushed up to greet them. That smile faltered when she watched Hunter and Wrecker walk down the ramp, their eyes dim and faces carved of stone when they saw her. Phee slowly makes her way over, her blood turning to ice when she doesn’t see Tech emerge from the ship.

He’s gone, I’m sorry

Hunter seems to be the only stable thing as the world drops out from underneath Phee, and she grabs onto him in desperation as the news works its way through her brain. 

“You’re lying!” It can’t be true, Hunter can’t be right, right? But those brown eyes, mirrored all around her as Wrecker and Echo move to cut the world off from Phee, they all sing with the horrible truth she doesn’t want to accept. Hunter murmurs to her as she finally slumps against him, whispers of mando’a that Tech had promised to teach her when they return echoing from all three as they stand with her. 

Since they had returned, Phee had been near for any clone who needed her. The group of crash-landed clones that had arrived shortly before the Batch had returned hadn’t been open to communication at first, which suited most people fine. They had turned over their guns as a show of goodwill, and in return had been given food and some aid, Shep trying to do more but had kindly been turned away by the soldiers. It was clear they were more afraid of the town than their own injuries, and despite Phee having most interactions with clones, they kept to themselves regardless. Once Kix, a newcomer that had come with her boys, had helped with the dire medical needs, the clones seemed more open to branching out, especially with the Batch being a sort of relied-on shield. Phee was the one to be the best bridge, helping Kix with care, or Wrecker and Echo with fixing up the ship that had seen better days, anything to not dwell on reality outside of her beloved Pabu.

At night, however, she just lies in bed, Tech’s goggles cradled to her chest. Her living room is currently occupied by Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, and Kix, the former three having finally been convinced to stop sleeping inside the Marauder by both Phee and Kix. While the two were still feeling each other out, the medic had earned her respect in the aspect of her boys. She knew what their sleeping arrangements were like, hell she’d slept on one of the bunks and just about broken her back with how uncomfortable it was. So, while she doesn’t have a guest room, she does have a few cushions and pillows to offer, and curtained off the room from the main hallway that runs through her small home. Hearing the way Wrecker lets out a groan of comfort once they’ve bickered about spacing and where to place their armor, Phee smiles a little. 

Being able to hear the four breathing in the next room helps her feel a little less lonely, and for once her eyes grow tired with exhaustion. Phee held Tech’s goggles close as she curled up on her side, the view of the distant ocean out her expansive window slowly helping her fade into sleep, until a presence in her doorway drew Phee back to full consciousness immediately.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Phee pushed herself to sit up with one hand, the other still holding Tech’s goggles as she focused on the man standing at her doorway. Hunter had his arms crossed, gaze as intense as always, yet a little vulnerable as he stared at the eyewear in her hand. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check in.” It was strange to see Hunter without his armor, and even stranger for Hunter to be so “bare” in front of someone who wasn’t on his team. Yet, here they are, looking at each other and trying desperately not to focus on the small reminder of their shared grief that was in her hand.

“At two in the morning?” Hunter gave a soft chuckle and reached up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry, I could hear you were still awake.” He watches as Phee fully sat up, stretching as she stared at him expectantly. “I came to see if you wanted to join us.”

“For what?” As much as Phee liked her ragtag group, nothing was worth getting up and leaving her comfortable house in the middle of the night, thank you very much.

“In the living room.” Phee blinked, and gave Hunter a confused look. “We have room.”

“What do you mean?” Sure, she had dug up and snagged a few extra cushions from the community stockpile, but she didn’t think it would be enough for all four men, let alone her with them.

“Come on, you’ll see.” Hunter extended a hand, and after contemplating for a moment, Phee slung her feet over the edge of her bed and stood, motioning for Hunter to lead ahead.

The sight that greets her after the short walk to her living room was…unexpected. Phee had been expecting to have the four lying side by side, after all, most military installations she’d ever seen had the beds that way. Instead, the coffee table and couch had been pushed out of the way, and what Phee could only describe as a nest had been constructed in the middle of the room, every cushion and pillow spilling out from the center of the said nest. The lone lamp she hardly used in the corner is on its lowest setting, and she can see they’ve added two battlefield lamps to give a warm glow to the room. Wrecker was nestled in the middle of everything, chuckling quietly at something on the datapad in his free hand. Echo is leaning against his left side, and Wrecker has offered his free hand to help Echo braid Kix’s hair, the medic sitting between Echo’s legs. The medic looks half asleep as he leans back against Echo, a pillow between the two helping to prop up the tired man, who methodically brushes and tames Kix’s hair into plaited braids. Phee has to give him props at how easy the former ARC trooper was making it all look.

“Hey Phee.” Wrecker greeted first when he saw the two enter the room, giving a little wave. Echo glances over and nods in acknowledgment, his hand finishing off the final braid he had left.

“Couldn’t sleep hm?” Kix hummed, barely sounding awake himself as he stretched a little bit in place. It’s the first time she’s seen Kix’s shoulders not hunched up to his ears, and is glad to see the medic feels comfortable enough to be like that in her presence.

“You know it.” Phee sighed, and watched Wrecker place his datapad on the couch behind him.

“Come ‘ere then sister.”  He offers his free hand with a small smile, and Phee takes it after a moment. She wobbles a little on the cushions, but sits down against Wrecker’s free side after a moment of adjusting. 

“I expected you to run warmer than this.” She nudged him with a little grin, and Wrecker chuckles as Hunter sits against his crossed legs. “So what is all this?”

“We call it an aliit tsad droten (family group).” Kix replied, having been roused from his light doze so Echo could get himself something to drink. “Basically it means family group, or in our case a batch group. It is…was common for us clones to grow up in groupings, batches really, from the moment we leave our tubes until we leave Kamino with our squads. Skin-to-skin contact was just due to space, but for us clones, it became more than that.”

“It’s easier to hear everyone breathing, then sleeping on your lonesome,” Phee commented and gets a nod from the other three.

“Inviting an outsider is considered a high honor, even more so if you’re a natborn,” Echo commented upon his return, a tray filled with full glasses of water set on the coffee table for those who might want some later. “Took me a few months to be accepted myself.”

“To be fair, you were bein’ all broody about it.” Wrecker clicked his tongue, and Hunter smiled a bit. “I had to drag him in one night, and Crosshair headlocked him for like, ten minutes.”

“Felt like ten hours,” Echo grumbled, but chuckled softly at the memory as he sipped his drink. 

“Sounds about right.” Phee teased, and they all lapsed into a gentle silence, the distant crashing of the waves against Pabu all that could be heard. Hunter is the first to move, getting up to turn out the lights when he finally decides it’s time to try and settle for some sleep, and Phee watches from her spot as the others move on cue. Wrecker extends his free arm for Echo to nestle into his hold, and draws him a little bit closer to his side. Kix doesn’t lie as close as she might have guessed, curling up on his side within range to have one hand held by Echo, and the adventurer makes a note to ask more about their history before the Batch. Hunter ends up sprawled out not far below where she’s tucked her legs against Wrecker’s side, his head lying on Wrecker’s thigh as he slips his headband down to rest over his eyes.

“It helps him sleep.” Wrecker whispers once everyone has stilled, and Phee nods as she slowly moves one arm to rest it over Wrecker’s chest, giving the bigger man a slight hug. She’s clutching Tech’s goggles still, and the larger clone says nothing as he stares at it in the moonlight that now bathes the room in its gentle glow. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her she’s nestled against him where Tech usually is, and judging by the way Hunter had given his tight smile, no one else would say it aloud either.

The four men can hear when she begins to cry, obviously trying to muffle the sound, but they all knew the signs. She hadn’t cried after learning the news, but to be surrounded by so much unconditional kindness from the men she’d grown to trust? Her walls just came crumbling down, so now she cried for the man she’d allowed herself to love, and eventually drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

—-------------------------

The bacta was helping each day.

He was aware and awake longer, but his movement was still restricted.

It’s to be expected, he can feel sensors and IV lines all over his legs and arms. It is also best not to alert those who have him to his awareness.

He hopes the others are okay.

He also hopes Wrecker isn’t scared of heights even more now.

—--------------------------

Coruscant had lost its dazzle a long time ago. The city physically hadn’t lost its glow, hadn’t lost the bright-eyed tourist or the endless neon signs that created their own color spectrum amongst the metal that ran to the planet's core. 

Rex never stayed as long as he had to, usually there for a few short days to help Chuchi and her vast network that helped clones make their way to him. They keep trickling in, the men who had seen battle against clankers without batting an eye scared for their lives due to this new Empire.

He keeps seeing Fives in every one of them.

This time he was here for a different mission, sneaking through alleyways and past security checkpoints without the mere hint of detection. There was vital intel that would hopefully help Rex find a new planet to set up another base of operations, or so he hoped dearly. Ever since the Emperor had publicly denounced the clones, their various bases and safehouses were starting to fill faster and faster, and it didn’t help that the Empire had locations that the Republic had known of at their fingertips. Thankfully, a rebel amongst the ranks of those who worked closest to Palpatine himself seemed to have known this from the start, and had been Rex and Chuchi’s best saving grace. Without this mysterious aid, their constantly moving rotation of safehouses and transfer points would have been probably figured out some time ago, and it’s not the first time the captain wonders who it might be.

Rex finally reaches the rendezvous point, scanning the area from the rooftops before silently making his way to street level while pulling his hood over his head. No one sees the man filter into the crowd, and Rex just follows the ebb and flow to make his way to an innocuous bench that overlooks the city below it. Rex seats himself, and for a moment just watches the distant ships heading up to the planet's surface before subtly reaching under the seat to find a small data stick hidden underneath. Rex sighs as he takes in the view for another few moments, before getting up to his feet and merging back into the steady flow of people passing by, becoming another face in a crowd. Chuchi is giving some recently rescued clones that had arrived while he’d been gone some food when he returns, and he’s grateful that she had never lost the compassion and determination from when they had first met.

He’s not sure where he’d be with his efforts without her.

“Did you get it?” Rex nodded as he joined her after closing the hangar doors, just to give that slight level of comfort to the small group huddled together. One of her guards offers his hand, and Rex hands over the data that is instantly rushed off to be decrypted and looked over.

“Seems like the Empire has got most of the upper levels locked down, but aren’t advancing lower.” It’s a small relief, but still not entirely relieving. “Lots of natborn troopers too, I didn’t see many of us.”

“It’s not surprising, we’ve been assured that they’re the next stage.” Chuchi sighed, and one of the men seated next to her reached up to squeeze her hand with a small smile. 

“I know sister.” Rex finally allows himself to take a seat, running a hand over his head. “Any news from Echo?”

“Not yet, unfortunately.” It’s not surprising, Echo had to decrypt everything on his own, and without Tech it was sure to take longer. “He was able to pass on that the defectors are mostly back to their full strength.”

“Hey, I’ll take all the good news I can get.” Rex smiled, glad to hear at least something was going right for someone these days. “The more we have to help fight, the better our chances will be.”

“Fight where?” One of the troopers glanced up, and Rex finally noticed it was a familiar face. “Good to see you Rex.”

“Glad to see you still around Sinker.” Despite his feet aching, Rex gets up to make his way over to the group of clones, and the former 104th member greeted Rex with a tight hug.

“See you’ve got the Yularen look down pat.” Sinker jokes, and Rex couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped him.

“And I see you’re still a smartass kih’vod .” Rex countered, and the group watching in amusement laughed as Sinker rolled his eyes.

“So, you going to tell us about this fight I heard?” Sinker sat back down as Rex joined the group with Chuchi, one of her guards serving a fresh round of caf.

“We’re getting closer to finding out where a lot of our brothers are taken to for Force knows what.” Rex started, staring down at his drink. “It’s going to be a massive operation, we have reason to believe there are hundreds of brothers there that are being…I don’t know.”

The silence in the hangar could deafen the planet if it was allowed to. The group of recently rescued clones shared a glance, and all shared a nod as they wordlessly communicated for a few moments.

“So…when are we taking this place?” 

—--------------------

He’s all alone now.

Thire, Thorn, Grizzer, they’re all gone and he’s all that’s left. He should be gone too, but for some reason, his heart kept beating, despite the fact he had been stabbed by a Sith.

Darth Vader, it’s a name that should chill him to the bone.

It doesn’t, however, but Fox plays along like a good soldier. He knows that Vader is Skywalker, but Fox has dealt with Palpatine and the Senate long enough to mask any hint of personal thought on the subject. He has to, as much as it hurts, because he’s the only one left.

By the Force, he’s so alone .

Yet, as he works and handles a vastly changing government, he smiles underneath his bucket.

Rex, his wonderful vod, he’s helping their brothers escape this hell, despite everything being against him. Fox hadn’t known it was him at first, tracking the steadily climbing numbers of defectors while keeping up appearances that he was utterly unaware of anything outside his office. When Palpatine first mentions it, Fox has to suppress the sheer dread that washed over his body like a frigid tidal wave.

So he just…started fixing the reports that came in for the Emperor, despite the fact that forging documents just felt so wrong and went against every bit of his training. His act of complete obedience began to pay off as soon the Emperor moved on from such reports, and eventually stopped asking for them, and Fox collapsed from relief the second he got to his barracks that evening.

He still hadn’t told Rex he was the one giving a slow but trusted stream of information, but maybe one day he would. 

He always thinks of Fives when he looks out at the distant streets of Coruscant.

[strawberryastrohealing]

Venus in hard aspect to Pluto

Venus: embodies the softer side of love; unconditional, true love, acceptance, equality, compromise   

Pluto: at it’s darkest Pluto embodies the harder side of love - control, power, manipulation, obsession, jealousy fear 

Venus in hard aspect to Pluto creates friction between both expressions of love, leading to difficulties in relating to others - both in a social and romantic sense. 

Romantic relationships can easily be tainted by obsession, manipulation and power plays. That is if the work isn’t done to understand the root causes of these darker expressions of love.

There can be a fear in general of relating to others in a loving way, fear of being hurt or rejected. Obsession, power games, being defensive and closed off to love, judgemental and critical of potential lovers/ friends - can all be projections and defence mechanisms in response to these fears. 

Lots of healing of self is required to nurture the tainted Venus back to her full radiance. Self acceptance and self love is the pivotal first step. 

With continuous work on self love and self acceptance, Venus can enjoy her full and highest expression. With healing of this aspect comes enjoyment of the beautiful Venusian pleasures of life - healthy, accepting romantic relationship and friendships, unconditional self love and acceptance, relationships based on true love rather than control or power.        

If you have this aspect, happiness comes by learning how to stand strong and confident in your own being, no matter what you look like, who is/isn’t standing beside you, or what others think of you. The tendency with this aspect is to lose yourself to love, to obsess over, and rely on someone to an unhealthy extent. Fear of loss, of not being enough, of lack of control, can consume them, to the point where they forget their own radiance. With time and self awareness they can learn to shift focus to their dreams and goals, to see the beauty of loving themselves and their own life, no matter who is beside them. 

Please don’t be disheartened by this aspect! Yes it is difficult but with healing true love and loving friendships are all yours, never forget that you are completely worthy of love, even after any negative past experiences of love. The beauty of this aspect is that true love and transformation come from these negative experiences, the square pushes us to learn from them. Have faith that the right relationship or love is out there for you, whatever form it comes in ✨🌷

🎀  𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓊𝓈  🎀

Essential oils: rose, neroli, bergamot

Exercises: half camel pose, cobra pose

Really recommend Chakra Dance by Natalie Southgate - she has beautiful dance meditations and music for heart chakra activations

Colours: Pink!! White, red, green for your heart chakra ;)  💗 💚💗

⚛｡  🎀  𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝐿🏵𝓋𝑒 𝐸𝓍𝑒𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓈  🎀  ｡⚛

1. Consider doing a 30 day shadow work challenge - there are lots of them on YouTube and around Tumblr, search for one that speaks to you!

Daily writing in a journal to unravel and understand how you’re feeling

2. Lots of self love - affirmations, keeping a gratitude journal, accepting your flaws (on the inside/ on the outside), saying nice things to yourself in the mirror! is. so. important!!

3. Expressing unconditional love to others - a cute exercise is to start saying positive and loving things about everyone you meet/ interact with for the next week (in your head but double points if you say it out loud) - just leaning to see the divinity and love in everyone, just as you are learning to see it in yourself.

4. Self reflection - especially of broken past relationships or friendships - reflect on any negative plutonian behaviours surfacing in past relationships and why this could have strained them. What made you exhibit these behaviours? Do not do this in a self berating or negative way, only do this is you feel ready to reflect and move on from these past experiences, and in a accepting and self compassionate way.

5. Contemplate the true meaning of love and what you want in a partner for a happy and fulfilling relationship. Understand that true love cannot be bought - you cannot control and manipulate someone into loving you. 

Have faith that the right person will come along that will love you unconditionally as you are, and will give you the love you want - without any of the power/ control games. Once they come along, continue working on your self love throughout the relationship and know that you are 100% loveable - nurturing your self love and your life outside of the relationship is even more important here. This will mitigate tendencies towards obsessiveness, possessiveness, jealousy.   

6. Focus on expressing the higher octave of plutonian love - the gift with this aspect is you can express this easily with some healing. Loving someone intensely isn’t a bad thing if this is in a healthy way - wanting to merge with someone and experience divine oneness can be a beautiful and spiritual experience.   

Open your heart up to deep intimacy and transformation through your relationships. 

7. Don’t be afraid of rejection - this will come with self love, but the tendency with this aspect is to run from love to avoid rejection. 

Doing so only increases the hurt and pain, often more so than rejection by another. Essentially you are rejecting your self by not giving your self approval and not deeming yourself worthy. 

Even if that love is not reciprocated, self love and acceptance will make it so much easier to move on from this. 

[rafaelblackbird15]

Teen Wolf Fic Recs Part 2: Steter

It took me quite awhile to gather all these together, so please enjoy discovering more parts to the incredible world of Teen Wolf, provided to you by the wonderful writers of our fandom.

Leave comments and kudos for these writers if you can, they really deserve it, they're wonderful. And it's my honour to try and share their creations with tumblr.

These are Steter, Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale fanfictions. Read them at your will. Check the tags on the actual fics for warnings and such.

I have included links to authors that write a lot of Steter as well, and some of their fics for examples. I'm sorry this post got so long, haha, but enjoy the stories, they're worth it.

If any of the links don't work, just comment and I'll fix it.

Check out my other Sterek fic recs [Part 3] and [Part 4] and Steter fic recs [Part 1]

*********

Broken Bones and Broken Bonds by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 20148

Chapters: 4/?

Summary:

Stiles kind of wished that he’d at least tried weed before this. 

Or something, you know? Maybe taken up a graffiti hobby, or even just skateboarded in front of City Hall often enough to get a citation. 

He wished he’d done something to be deserving of the looks people gave him now, rather than just being the recipient of his dead father’s unused power. 

**********

Stigmata by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1661

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He feels so hollow that he almost wonders if he's been turned inside out. This emptiness he feels; is it the vastness of the entire world?

How do you fill a world? With people, he supposes. But his people no longer want him.

He needs people.

*********

Beefcake Mountain by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 14565

Chapters: 7/7

Summary:

Shortly after moving back to Beacon Hills, the left hand of the Hale Pack opened a text from a mysterious number.

"Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them."

What the f—

**********

Steter Week 2019 by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

Works: 4

Complete: No

Summary:

There isn't a summary listed so I've included the first fic underneath:

Marvelous Miss and Magnificent Mischief by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

Words: 3346

Chapters: 1/1

also Part 1 of the Magnificent Mischief series

Summary:

“Marvelous Miss and the Magnificent Mischief!” the carnival barker shouted just outside the corridor with all the food tents. “Come see Miss Paige do amazing tricks with her talking raven! He not only speaks, but he jokes! He teases! He philosophizes!”

********

Author: twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

This author has a lot of wonderful Steter fics, and their writing of the pairing is really worth having a good look through.

*******

Blood Runs Cold by Smalls2233 on Archive of Our Own

Words: 111408

Chapters: 22/22

Summary:

“So then why are we letting Scott and Derek search for it if you know it's useless?”

Peter looked down at Stiles and cocked his head with a grin. “Because I think seeing my nephew and your best friend run around like headless chickens while I think up a plan is hysterical.”

“And the plan is…?”

----

Trusting Peter Hale is something that Stiles had repeatedly told himself to never do. He had seen first hand the results of Peter's plans and schemes, but when a shadow began tormenting Beacon Hills, he found that sometimes he'd have to to play along with Peter's games.

This story does include a dose of Chris&Stiles interaction about midway and carries on throughout, and then Chris/Peter towards the midend, which also carries on. And it kind of dissolves into Chris/Peter/Stiles. If that's not your taste, that's fine, because the majority of the story is Stiles/Peter, and that majority is really really good Steter.

**********

No One Listening Tonight by Smalls2233

Words: 6985

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

That left… well it left Peter and only Peter. Relying on Peter for help was only slightly better than stabbing himself through the eye with a hot poker. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Of course, there was always the option of packing up and letting whatever was trying to destroy the town succeed this time. Stiles snorted under his breath as he thought about how that would probably leave him with fewer injuries than dealing with Peter would. But unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Stiles knew he needed to head downtown to Peter’s apartment and pray the man was willing to work with him.

----

Stiles stumbles into a magical trap forged by a wannabe warlock.

*********

Author: Smalls2233

*********

Blue by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3179

Chapters: 2/2

Summary:

Derek brings both Scott and Stiles to the hospital to prove a point about hunters, but Stiles isn’t sure the point he’s getting is the point Derek’s trying to make. Especially when his black and white world explodes into color the moment he looks into Peter Hale’s eyes.

*********

The Long Way Around by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 15569

Chapters: 3/3

Summary:

When Peter leaves Beacon Hills for good, he expects that to be it for the broken bonds of the last remaining members of the Hale pack. Fate and Stiles Stilinski aren’t of the same opinion.

**********

Prowl by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3454

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Laura's body is never found, but instead of continuing with his murder spree, Peter gets distracted by the scent of his mate. Stiles gets very distracted by the huge wolf that starts showing up at his house all the time.

**********

Author: Wynnebat

This author writes some really interesting, deep stories about Steter that are really beautiful.

**********

your last white lie (everything is not alright) by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4023

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles says yes, and things go downhill from there.

**********

reflect by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 569

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the dig your teeth in and tear until you taste (peter/stiles oneshots) series

Summary:

(previously posted to tumblr)

When he dreams, he can sometimes still hear his mother’s voice, explaining it to him: Reflections are the price we pay for what we are.

*********

sentire by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1027

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the dig your teeth in and tear until you taste (peter/stiles oneshots) series

Summary:

[to feel]

Stiles hears the whisper of death before it strikes.

**********

Author:

snowdarkred

This author writes some really intense, interesting stories about Peter and Stiles. Not as long as some fics are, but they're really good adaptions of Steter with a lot of feeling.

**********

The Striking Complication by aurevell on Archive of Our Own

Words: 27235

Chapters: 4/15

Summary:

The smile slips off Stiles’s face. “Hey, um. Why am I here?” he asks, voice unsteady. “I’m—I have this weird feeling like I shouldn’t leave you. I’ve felt all day like...” He can’t finish the thought.

Peter looks as surprised as Stiles feels. A strange expression passes over his face, there and gone before Stiles can decipher it.

Stiles snaps awake each morning with the sense that he’s missing something. Weirder still, he can’t wrap his head around his sudden, inexplicable trust in Peter Hale, who seems to know way more than he’s letting on. Nor can he guess why a half-remembered nightmare seems to haunt his every move.

Rinse and repeat. Because time loops suck, apparently.

*******

Author: aurevell

This author has 11 Teen Wolf fics under their belt. 5 Sterek and 6 Steter. Happy rummaging!

**********

the teeth right down to the blood by sazzafraz on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2133

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

‘We’re pretty fucked right now.’ Scott says. Stiles doesn’t speak but there’s something singing in his bones that says Scott got the message anyway. (In which both are bit and things are gruesome.)

This has a sprinkling of Scott/Stiles, Scott/Stiles/Peter, and Scott/Allison as well as Steter, but it's worth the read, a good story with an interesting concept.

*********

Author: sazzafraz

This author doesn't have that many Steter stories, although they do have a few. Although they do have some pretty lengthy Teen Wolf fics about other characters of the show.

***********

Everything goes (wow) by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 8215

Chapters: 5/5

Part 1 of the Aranea & Babewolf series

Summary:

It was supposed to go like this:

1. Peter summons demon to the circle.

2. Demon remains in said circle until Peter outlines their contract.

3. Demon agrees to elegantly crafted contract, becoming loyally bound to Peter and Peter alone.

Instead, the creature steps casually out of the circle, tosses its things onto the leather sofa, and starts immediately meddling in Peter’s immaculate space, touching all of Peter’s very expensive things.

*********

It's only by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2905

Chapters: 3/5

Part 2 of the Aranea & Babewolf series

Summary:

“Darling, please don’t pout.”

“You’re pouting.” Stiles pouts, from the upper corner of the library, everything from his hip bones down an angry mass of hissing fangs and venomous chelicerae. “Why would we ever go back to that garbage town? Everyone there is the worst, the only good thing is the very rad and awesome curse I laid.”

*********

You are a memory by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 900

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the Little glimpse series

Summary:

If he has to bleed to breathe warmth back into Peter’s icy body, he will.

Because Peter’s done the same for him.

********

Author: midmorning_bomb

This author has 16 Steter fics. A little unfriendly to some of the other characters, but it's only kind of obvious because it's not subtle about it, and not exactly underserved. Has some really interesting ideas as well as some kind, well developed Steter. Definitely have a read through.

***********

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 21

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 3)

Yao Qianjin had quite a temperament. When she got back, she didn't even think about eating and went straight to pestering her father to inquire about Chen Bohuan. Although Chen Bohuan was already married, it was done behind closed doors. Who knew about it? Even when their marriage had been arranged, the town never knew about their relationship.

So Yao Qianjin learned that the eldest Chen son "wasn't married yet."

The county magistrate made several inquiries and found that Xiao Chen was capable, gentle-tempered, and his familial situation was good, so he sent someone to talk to the Chen family about the marriage.

Mr. Chen was filled with regret. They politely told the county magistrate they would think about it first. They closed the door and the two old people immediately started to quarrel.

Mr. Chen said: "Look what you've done! The poor scholar died early and his daughter should have mourned him for three years. If you hadn't been in such a hurry for them to get married, our son wouldn't have to regret it now! Look at what happened!"

Madam Chen was also anxious: "You're blaming me? Weren't you the one who wanted to arrange the marriage in the first place? Now there's a better option: the daughter of the county magistrate! Can. . . can Luo Xianxian compare to that?"

The two elders closed the door and quarrelled until they were red in the face. At the end of the quarrel, they were exhausted and panting across the table from each other.

Mr. Chen asked: "What should we do? Should we call back the magistrate?"

Madam Chen said: ". . . We can't do that. Our family is relying on Yao Qianjin's money."

Mr. Chen said angrily: "Then will the daughter of the Yao family be a concubine? Will she? Our son already has somebody, how can we add another? Look at how in love they are!"

". . ." Madam Chen didn't say anything for a while. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she murmured, "If you think about Luo Xianxian and our son, except for our family, no one knows about them. . ."

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Chen was shocked when he suddenly understood his wife's intentions.

He was trembling, half from panic, half from anger.

"You - you mean. . ."

"If no one knows about it, it doesn't count as a real marriage." Madam Chen said. "Let's try to find a way to get rid of her. We can do whatever it takes. All the surrounding villages think he's unmarried. Do you remember how she stole oranges from us as a child? As long as we all stick to that story, no one would believe her word over ours!"

Mr. Chen strode to the door, confirmed that the door was closed tightly, and hurriedly rushed over. The two people who had been arguing like two chickens in a cockfight were nestled together again, quietly lowering their voices, and discussed.

Mr. Chen said: "This method of you, I'm afraid it won't work."

"What's wrong?"

"Our son won't agree. He's had a crush on Luo Xianxian his whole life. Why would he agree to drive her away for someone else?"

Madam Chen thought for a while. She patted her husband's hand and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

After a while, Madam Chen suddenly became seriously ill. It was a strange illness. The doctor couldn't explain the reason, but she just would have fits all day and talked nonsense, saying she was possessed by a ghost.

Mr. Chen was terrified so he asked a Daoist priest to come. He carried a whisk on his back and said that there was something negative in the Chen family directed at Madam Chen. If it wasn't resolved, Madam Chen wouldn't make it to the new year.

Chen Bohuan, who was the most filial, anxiously asked: "What attacked my mother?"

The Daoist priest pretended to be mysterious and hesitated for a while. He said it was a "beauty who couldn't see the light of day."

Everyone in the room froze. The Chen family's sons all turned to look at Luo Xianxian standing on the side.

Luo Xianxian also froze.

She has been told many times when she was a child that her life is cursed. She brought tragedy with her. As soon as she was born, she killed her mother, then her brother, and later her father.

Now, she was being accused again, saying that she was going to kill her mother-in-law.

The Chen family was petrified. The sons took turns telling her to leave the Chen family. Besides, no one outside the family knew that she was married and had an innocent reputation. They would give her some money and let her find another good family.

Luo Xianxian was anxious and afraid. She was really worried that she was killing Madam Chen and she couldn't control her tears.

Chen Bohuan was heartbroken. As he watched his mother grow weaker, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to leave Luo Xianxian, but he couldn't bear to watch his mother suffer. She had lost so much weight in such a short amount of time.

The brothers of the Chen family quit trying to be civil. One day, while their elder brother was away, they sought out their sister-in-law. Luo Xianxian was mixing butterfly fragrant powder in the greenhouse. They rushed up and knocked over her utensils. The fragrant powder fell on her. The pungent aroma seemed to instantly seep into her bones and she couldn't wash it off.

The brothers surrounded her and talked about the most important duties, such as "a woman's virtue", how a wife and daughter should be humble, parents should be respected but Luo Xianxian was very tough. Although timid, she was very stubborn. She cried and said she didn't want to leave, begging them to think of another way.

The second son of the Chen family was impatient so he went up and slapped her. He said: "You're going to kill our mother, you cursed bitch. If there was another way, would your father have died? Would your mother have died? Would your brother be dead or alive?"

As soon as he beat her, the rest of them rushed up, punching and kicking Luo Xianxian, shouting things like "get out", "vermin" and "quick fuck".

These sons had the same idea as their mother. In fact, they had known about their mother's idea for a long time. At this time, taking advantage of their elder brother's absence, they worked together to expel Luo Xianxian from the house. They threatened that if she dared to come back, they would beat her every day. She didn't have a family anyways. If she was beaten to death, no one would care.

It was a snowy night. Luo Xianxian was thrown into the snow covered in bruises and one of the embroidered shoes on her feet had fallen off.

She slowly crawled forward, a muffled choked sob escaping her lips, like the low howl of a dying cub.

It was late at night. Few people would be outside on such a snowy day. She crawled through the vast world, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where else she could go.

The Chen brothers were right.

She had no family; no father, no brother. No one to stand up for her, no one to take her in.

There was nowhere she could go in this white, awe-inspiring world.

Her bones were weak, and she was wearing thin clothes when she was thrown out, so her legs and feet quickly became numb and useless.

Crawling all the way to the outskirts of the city, she came to the earth temple where the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was enshrined. She curled up in the temple to hide from the snow. Her lips were blue and frozen, and her heart felt even colder.

Looking up at the clay statue with gorgeous red makeup, she couldn't stop the tears rolling down her face. It made her think of the rules of the Lower Cultivation World, and how a married couple should have a master of ceremonies to witness it.

At that time, all she had was a red flower hairpin, a beautiful smile and Chen Bohuan kneeling next to her.

Was this closed-door marriage all a big dream? That day, the beauty in the brass mirror was picturesque. Was it just a greedy joy that she had concocted deep in her mind?

She knelt in front of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost, dragging her increasingly heavier and cold body. She bowed three times, crying and laughing.

"Married as husband and wife. No doubt about their love. Rejoice. . . in this. . . tonight. . ."

She started to feel dizzy and her vision was getting blurry.

A thin layer of moonlight seemed to sprinkle in front of her eyes. In the small courtyard from her past, she cried and said: "I didn't steal. I didn't steal. I didn't steal the oranges."

However, three men make a tiger* and everyone was terrified. No one would believe her side of the story.

*(T/N: 三人成虎 - means that the more someone repeats something absurd, the more likely people are to believe it)

To this day, she knew that even if she ran up to every person she saw and screamed that she was Chen Bohuan's wife, no one would believe her. She was still the same little girl as back then, stuck behind the mud wall with no one to share her grievances with.

Nothing had changed.

But there was still that person, looking over the wall, holding a white steamed bun, stuffed into her palm, saying: "If you're hungry, eat a steamed bun to curb your hunger."

Now. . . that person. . . where was he. . .

When he came back and couldn't find her, would he be worried, or would he secretly breathe a sigh of relief because his mother would be safe from her?

Luo Xianxian curled up in the earth temple, eyes dripping with gradually drying tears, and whispered: "Madam Master of Ceremonies, I want to be with him. I'm his wife. . . When we came to the temple, we didn't have a master of ceremonies with us. You're a Master of Ceremonies Ghost. You can't control the living, but I. . . You're the only one I can talk to. . . and I can tell you. . ."

She whimpered in a broken voice, the last sound coming out of her throat: "I didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

The heavy snow was silent, and the long night was quiet.

The next day, the townspeople who passed by the earth temple on the outskirts of the city found Luo Xianxian's cold body.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[yellowsuitcase]

I missed you // Draco Malfoy

A/N: This was an anonymous request I received about 4 days ago. It took me a while to write it because school was A LOT this week and I’ve been so exhausted from trying to keep up with everything. I’ve also started trying to shift so if anyone has any tips on that, please let me know! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Draco and Y/N have mutually broken up and have started experimenting with other people. But it’s only a matter of time before Draco gets jealous.

Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 2.5k 

It was for the best. Wasn’t it? He didn’t love her anymore, and nor did she. That happens sometimes. People just fall out of love. It was mutual; there was no fight, nobody was angry. The relationship had run its course, no feed to fuss about it. Besides, it wouldn’t have made sense for them to remain, boyfriend and girlfriend, when they’d each lost feelings.

If all of that is true...then why does it hurt so much? Y/N wondered as she lay flat on her back, the bedsheets around her in disarray from all her tossing and turning. She knew there was no way she’d find sleep easily tonight, not after the breakup. She felt as if a piece of her had been forcefully ripped from her. But why? She had a hunch for almost an entire month that she’d lost feelings for Draco. Shouldn’t she have been prepared for the end? Alas, Y/N knew that completely preparing oneself for a breakup is an impossible feat. 

These thoughts swirled through her brain as she finally closed her eyes. She clutched the sheets in her palms, trying to ground herself. Her forehead was tense with wrinkles as she was already anticipating the nightmares. But nevertheless, after a few more minutes of restlessness, her body’s need for slumber overtook her.

When she awoke the next morning, she could practically feel the bags sitting under her eyes. She could only guess that her sleep had been plagued with nightmares as she was lucky enough not to have any recollection. Her head pounded as she sat up in her bed. Her roommate gave her a pitiful and knowing look. Y/N took in a deep breath and clambered out of bed.

It didn’t take her very long to get ready since she frankly didn’t care whether or not she looked presentable today. She made sure her teeth were brushed and that her tie was on correctly and walked out of the dorms. Truthfully, she knew she wasn’t very hungry, but people would ask questions if she missed breakfast. While walking to the Great Hall, she was startled by someone jumping right in front of her.

“Good morning!” George Weasley said. “Why the long face?”

Y/N gave him a weak smile and said, “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

George looked skeptical but pushed no further. He fell into step beside her.

“Where’s Freddie?” she asked.

“Morning detention with Filch, he slipped a puking pastille into his drink.”

“You had nothing to do with it?” she asked, a doubtful smile on her lips.

George shrugged, smirking as he did so. “I have my ways,” he said while bumping her shoulder slightly. She looked up at him with a fake mean glare as they strode into the Great Hall. Y/N caught sight of Draco immediately. He was where he always sat in the morning. Usually, she would’ve made a beeline for the space next to him. Today, that spot was taken by Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl who had always taken a keen liking to Draco. Y/N stopped in her tracks and stared. Pansy was fawning over him, running her hands up his arms. Y/N felt anger begin to rise in her chest...but then she remembered. 

Shaking her head, she forced her feet to follow George to where he had sat down at the Gryffindor table. He was talking animatedly with his mates and didn’t notice Y/N standing behind him awkwardly while she tried to figure out whether or not she was wanted at the table; she was a Slytherin after all.

George eventually took notice of the presence behind him when his friend nodded his head towards her. “Y/N, did you want to sit? Thought you’d be with Malfoy. Has something happened?”

She sighed as she threw her leg over the bench and sat down. “Yeah, we broke up,” she said softly.

“Broke up? He didn’t do anything, did he?” George asked while turning to look at Draco.

“No, no. It was mutual. He didn’t do anything.”

“Good. Well, cheer up then. You’re a free woman now. The world is yours, right?” 

Y/N smiled at George. “Yeah, you’re right, it is. I don’t know why I’ve been sulking so much. I lost feelings, and so did he. Nothing more to it.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Who needs Malfoy anyway?” George bellowed, successfully making Y/N giggle. She felt her stomach rumble. This surprised her; she didn’t expect to be in a good enough mood to be hungry. But the buttered rolls on the table now looked extremely appetizing.

---------

{A few months later}

Draco paced back and forth in front of the mirror. He was nervous. In nearly twenty minutes, he’d be on his first date since breaking up with Y/N. He couldn’t believe he was really going on a date. With Pansy Parkinson, nonetheless. These past few months, she’d really grown on him. She was from a pureblood family, she was kind to him, and she was rather pretty. Draco knew his parents would love her. He could only hope he could grow to do the same.

He gathered his courage and left the bathroom. They had agreed to meet outside the potions classroom. It was an odd location, but Pansy suggested it, and Draco had no reason to object it. As he walked down the middle of the corridors, his mind began to race. What would she be wearing? Would she like him? Would they become boyfriend and girlfriend after this? Would Y/N find out? What would she think?

Draco’s face grew tense. What a silly thought to have. He wouldn’t actually date Pansy. And as for Y/N, he knew she wouldn’t care. She and George have had a thing for a few weeks now. They were always holding hands or sitting shoulder to shoulder, lovey-dovey stuff like that. He had even given her a kiss on the cheek. The image of it was burned into Draco’s memory.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw Pansy outside the classroom. She had her back leaned against the wall. She donned a dark green dress that reached her mid-thigh. Her hair was wavy and fell over her bare shoulders. Draco exhaled sharply. He felt the anxiety in his stomach but was determined not to show it.

“You clean up nice, Parkinson,” he said cooly and confidently while nodding his chin towards her. 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Thank you, Malfoy. You look handsome as well,” she said while scanning him up and down, her voice slow and sensual. Draco shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortable. “Shall we?” he asked. Pansy smirked and pushed off the wall and sauntered over to him. She reached for his hand and grasped it tightly in hers. Draco had to fight the internal instinct to wriggle his hand out of hers.

Just as they were about to go, they heard a noise from behind them. They turned around saw none other than Y/N, her arms full of potion ingredients and notebooks. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Stealing potion ingredients, Y/N?” Pansy asked with a knowing smirk on her face.

Y/N’s eyes shifted back and forth between the pair. When her eyes landed on their interlocked fingers, she straightened her spine and frowned. “You know perfectly well that we have a section that’s open to students. And it’s none of your business anyway,” she spat.

But Pansy was unfazed. “Lavender, Flobberworm mucus, and valerian sprigs. What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t fall asleep? Oh no, don’t tell me you get nightmares,” Pansy taunted, using a voice one might use when speaking to a baby or a dog.

Draco watched as Y/N’s face turned red. He knew she’d always struggled with nightmares and would often have to make herself a sleeping draught potion to be able to get some genuine rest. As he looked at the ingredients in her hands, he noticed she was short on a few of them.

“You don’t have enough,” he said without thinking. Both girls’ eyes turned to him. He ignored Pansy’s and instead focused on Y/N’s.

She waited a few beats before replying, “Snape has stopped refilling the supply. He said I need to stop relying on it so much,” she muttered. Her head had turned away from the couple. Draco’s eyebrows knitted together. When did she become so dependent on those potions? While they were together, she’d only need it maybe once every few weeks.

He didn’t have time to wonder about it any further. Pansy had begun walking and dragged Draco with her. Leaving Y/N alone in the cold dungeons, watching them go.

----------

Draco stared through the leaves of the tree he lied underneath. Classes were over, and he was relaxing before Crabbe and Goyle were bound to come and bother him. The week had dragged on for what seemed like years. Frankly, he was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the next few days away, but he had already made plans for the weekend. 

He allowed his eyes to close, and the stress from the week began to leave his body. But his peacefulness was short-lived. Loud cheers made their way to his ears. He sat up angrily, ready to hex whoever decided to irritate him. However, all that frustration dissipated when he saw what people were cheering for. When he saw it, time seemed to stop.

George was holding Y/N in his arms, she was parallel with the ground, and her lips were pressed against his. He was kissing her passionately while her hands gripped his shirt collar.

Draco felt his heart sink. The only word running through his brain was “no.” No, no, no, no. After he watched the scene in front of him for nearly a minute, he decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. He jumped to his feet and stomped out of the courtyard, passing Pansy as he did so.

“Draco, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked, her face was strewn up in confusion as to why Draco’s shoulders were heaving. 

“Not now, Parkinson,” Draco snapped.

“But Draco—”

“Shut up! Merlin, do you ever shut that trap of yours?” he shouted at her. Her eyes widened in shock, but Draco paid her no mind. He was halfway down the corridor when he thought better of himself and turned around. Rage overtook his body as he stormed back into the open courtyard and headed right for George and Y/N. They noticed him coming towards them and took a few steps back. George took Y/N’s hand and pulled her behind him.

“What d’you want Malfoy?” 

“Move, Weaslebee, I’m not here for you.”

George pursed his lips and withdrew his wand. He was intent on not letting Malfoy come any closer to the girl behind him. “If you’re here for her, you’re not getting her.”

Draco clenched his fists and also withdrew his wand. He aimed it straight at George’s face. “Move,” he demanded.

George widened his stance and raised his wand towards the blonde boy. “No,” he said firmly.

Draco inhaled and opened his mouth, but before he could hex George, a golden light shot towards Draco’s hand, and suddenly his wand was thirty feet across the yard.

Y/N emerged from behind George. Her wand was clutched in her palm. “There’s no need to fight. I can decide whether I want to speak with someone, and I certainly don’t need protection. So if you’ll excuse me, it’s obvious that Draco and I need to have a chat.”

She didn’t waste a moment; she began to make her way towards the exit. Draco quickly came to his senses and went to fetch his wand before hurrying after her.

He followed her through many hallways before she stopped outside the Slytherin dorms. “Salazar,” she muttered. The walls opened up before her, and she and Draco walked down the stairs into the eerie common room.

Y/N took a seat at the couch on the left of the fireplace. It was the couch they’d use to cuddle on after a long day. It felt weird to sit on it now since they both sat on opposite ends.

“Let’s not waste time,” she said, “you’re obviously upset. Care to tell me why?”

Draco scoffed and threw his arm over the back of the leather sofa. “Weasley, huh?”

“Draco, don’t be a git. We’ve been broken up for months. I’m allowed to see other people, aren’t I? I mean, you went on a date with Pansy.”

He shook his head vehemently and shifted in his seat. He couldn’t sit still, he was so angry.

“Speak, Draco. You know we can’t work any of our issues out if you don’t speak,” Y/N reminded him.

He let out an angry sigh and turned to face his ex-girlfriend. He had expected her to look just as mad as him, but instead, her eyes were filled with worry and concern. Her hand was pressed into the couch, and her body was slightly leaning forward. Draco felt the fire within his chest begin to die. He took another breath before talking.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it, Y/N. Seeing you with someone else fucking kills me. It makes me so angry. When he kissed you, I… I forgot how to breathe. It was like a dementor had come and sucked all the happiness from my veins. I was infuriated, not just at him but at myself. How could I let someone else hold you?”

Y/N stared at him with soft, gentle eyes. Slowly, she reached for his rigid fist that was resting on his lap. She took it into her hands and felt the tension leave. She had always had that effect on Draco. Her touch was able to calm his stiffness with ease.

“What am I saying?” Draco wondered out loud as he shamefully wiped a tear from his cheek, “you’re not mine anymore. I know that, and yet…” he trailed off.

“Then make me yours again,” Y/N whispered.

Draco’s head whipped towards her. He saw a look of nervousness on her face. Steadily, he took her head into his hands. He moved his head slightly below hers, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Almost as if he was afraid to ask.

Y/N nodded her head, “I do. God, I do. It’s always been you, Draco. I’m so sorry—” She was cut off by Draco pulling her in for a kiss. Y/N felt herself melt into his embrace; she felt at home again. 

He pulled away to catch his breath. “I’m sorry too. I never stopped loving you. I know that now. Please, let me be yours again.” 

Y/N smiled, “I missed you, Malfoy,” she said with a small chuckle. Draco felt a grin spread on his face, and he dove back in for another kiss. 

“I missed you more. Don’t you ever let me walk away from you again, you hear?” Draco asked playfully. Y/N laughed and gave him a quick peck on the nose.

“I solemnly swear,” she said in a fake deep voice while trying not to giggle. Draco rolled his eyes and tackled her onto the couch, causing her to squeal happily. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, vowing to himself to never let go of her again.

[keilemlucent]

i am your salvation

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~13k

For years, Keigo had trained his body, fucking perfected it’s abilities. Every part of him was honed and forcibly designed to be the winged-hero, Hawks. But, now? He was the defunct number two, ‘Hawks’ and at home— reality? He was the comically broken Keigo Takami who struggled to do basic physical therapy.

Only you know him like that.

warnings: manga spoilers, suicidal ideation, abuse, ANGST with a capital A, just sad :^(((

this piece is hellish, enjoy ;^))) beta’ed by the lovely @keiqos, bless u

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

Keigo was fucked.

He was so beyond fucked.

He was dead.

Basically.

He was half-alive in a hospital bed. An IV drip in each arm, pumping him full of god knows what. He didn’t care to ask. All he knew was that he fucked up.

He’d gotten sloppy.

Stupid.

Pompous. 

And now his wings were fried off his back.

(By fucking Dabi no less.)

 The first conversation he’d had with his doctor upon waking at the HPSC hospital was one where he legitimately contemplated suicide for the first time in a long while.

  “Hawks... There’s no good way to say this. There just isn’t,” The doctor began, looking through Keigo’s chart, sighing deeply. There was something so grave about the way he moved through the sterile hospital room.

The doctor handed him a handheld mirror. 

Hawks slowly raised it up with weakened arms, knowing what he’d see. 

A gruesome burn tore down the left side of his face. It puckered the skin around his eye, narrowing his field of vision (thank god he still had any vision at all). The soft flesh around his eye was so angry and blistered, pockets of puss gathering beneath the surface of his skin.

But what was worse than the scar, so much fucking worse, was the absence.

The complete absence of his wings.

No stubs, no nubs. Just nothing. 

His back ached against the hospital bed as he handed the mirror back to the doctor.

The doctor sighed again. He spoke to Hawks like he didn’t think the hero already knew what he was going to say, “Your wings are gone. Fully. The scans we’ve taken show that the... well, roots of them in your flesh are still present, they’re encased in scar tissue. Even the sections that the feathers grow from are cauterized. In our professional opinion, we don’t think that they’ll ever grow again.”

His heart fell in his chest. 

It fell so deep.

So far.

He didn’t let himself cry.

Instead, he contemplated how hard it would be to overdose on morphine they were undoubtedly dosing him with. 

The doctor continued as Keigo stared sightlessly at his lap, “As established, the muscles that control the roots of your wings are still intact, yes. But, they’re heavily damaged in a way that will affect your everyday life. Even without your wings, the recovery to stabilize your injuries is going to be strenuous.”

Who fucking cared.

Hawks had spent the vast majority of his life training to be a hero and now the very thing that made him the best was literally burned from him. It felt unholy. It felt awful.

Fire wasn’t cleansing, it was putrid. Desecrated was his body as well as his mind.

  He didn’t listen to much else of what the doctor said. He let himself go blank, wishing tears would fall. 

 ...

 That was yesterday.

Today, he was allowed visitors. His PA came, informing him that the Commission was putting him on extended, indefinite (thankfully, somewhat paid) leave in exchange for media appearances. They also informed him that half of the top ten were dead after the war with the PLF. Ryuku, Miruko, Edgeshot, Kamuiwoods, Crust, all lost. And countless others, too. Even some students. It seemed that there was no clear winner of the fight that took so many and changed so much.

One of the most hard-hitting pieces of news was that Endeavor was in a coma, on life support, with a brain injury that would most likely kill him. At best, he’d be a vegetable. 

Keigo felt nothing but hollow as he laid in his hospital bed. He was half machine, based on all of the tubes and monitors that he was hooked up to. He felt truly mechanical and falsely alive. Truly, he was used up. He wanted to die. He was sure of it. 

Keigo wanted to ask his PA to smother him.

He didn’t.

 The next person to visit him was you. His PA had informed him that they were legally obligated to see him first, otherwise, you would’ve been clawing his door down.

You.

Keigo didn’t want you to see him like this. All the reasons you had fallen for him were gone. There was no confidence, no lip, no charm, no drive, no stunning scarlet wings— nothing. He even had the bonus deterrent of a nasty scar covering half his face. He was so sure that you’d take one look at him and turn right out the door. 

Leave him for good. 

Maybe spit on him for good measure.

The old muscles of his wings twitched as you walked through the door. It burned like an old hell. 

You’d clearly been crying, face and eyes puffy. 

But you were strong for him.

You pulled a chair up next to his bed wordlessly. You sat, laying your head on his antiseptic smelling sheets and mattress. Your eyes went half-lidded, just barely looking up at Keigo’s terrified expression. You reached out, grabbing one of Keigo’s clammy hands. You squeezed it.

“I’m here, Kei’,” Your voice was so quiet. “It’s alright. I love you. I’ve got you.”

It made him break.

The machines that he was reliant on screamed as he desperately grabbed at you, dragging you up with the little strength he had. You pushed him down, moving to half kneel on his bed. You didn’t make Keigo work for your touch. 

You cradled his head to your chest as his scarred hands fisted your sweater. He screamed into your sternum. Keigo wailed and cried with everything he had. He was losing himself, raging for far more than just his current injury.

 He bawled for every single time he couldn’t in his hero training, forced to be broken by the demands of the Commission. He sobbed for every casualty and death that was on his hands, righteous or otherwise. And, selfishly, he cried for himself. He let tears fall in mourning for the version of himself that died by Dabi’s hand. 

He let himself shatter in your arms for the burning muscles and scars of his back, the ache of his face, and the emptiness and vulnerability that his lack of wings graced him with.

You more than let him; you encouraged it.

You stroked his hair, matted with sweat and grease. You whispered soft adorations, validations and love into his ears. He can hear your tears too, but it didn’t stop you.

“I love you, Keigo.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re safe.” 

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’ve got you, Kei’.”

“No one else will hurt you. I won’t let them.”

 You were far too late on the last one. But, you were quirkless. Powerless to stop the destruction that ravaged his body and now, his mind. 

Additionally, Keigo was relieved you didn’t say that ‘everything will be okay’. 

He knew it wouldn’t be.

You let him crumble against you for hours. 

Finally, he was spent, falling back in his bed, and letting you slump back into your chair. You took the liberty of finding a warm towel to wipe his face down with.

The rest of visiting hours, you laid your head on his mattress, holding his hand as he drifted in and out of sleep. Nurses came and poked and prodded him. They didn’t bother making conversation with either of you. 

They understood, to some degree. 

You were both together in mourning. 

A nurse came by later, night had fallen, telling you visiting hours were over. 

Keigo audibly whined.

You shook your head, running a thumb over Keigo’s knuckles.

“It’s alright,” You soothed both him and the nurse. “I’m not leaving.”

The nurse didn’t fight you, merely exited the room.

Keigo watched, awed. You retrieved a decently sized duffle bag and pillow that you’d brought (he hadn’t noticed). You set up a blanket and the pillow on a couch in the corner as a makeshift bed.

“Y-you’re staying?” Keigo asked, voice raw. 

You, somehow, smiled. So gentle and precious, nodding, “As long as you’d like me to. I told you, I’m here.”

Keigo relied on you for comfort in the past, sure. But not like this. Not like you were his anchor, tethering him to his existence now that his pride and preen were plucked from him. You were his salvation in that hospital room. You were the ground that he desperately and necessarily needed to learn to walk on.

 You both fell asleep quickly, dreaming of better things outside of your waking nightmare.

 ---------------------------

 Keigo was discharged two weeks later.

It is thoroughly confirmed that, unless by some medical miracle, his wings were truly toast. Gone for good.

The Commission brought in at least a dozen folks with spectacular healing quirks. Truly, the best the country had. Turns out, the Commission was clawing for hope too, in the wake of everything.

The efforts were in vain, of course.

Nothing stuck. 

The scar tissue wouldn’t shrink. The damage was too severe. The cauterization was so intense, it altered him. Forever.

 You stayed with him the whole time.

You went home, just a bit, maybe an hour a day. You showered then, changed clothes. 

You’d come back and do what you had been the whole time.

Just being there.

 You didn’t make him idly chat or make him watch shitty, hospital cable. You let him ruminate, stew, and simmer. You let him be crushed.

You were smart enough, empathetic enough to know that nothing you could do or say would lift him right now. 

He just needed you there.

And so, you were. 

 After being discharged with several prescriptions, orders to limit activity to allow for his other injuries (and concussion) to heal, the two of you went home. 

 Your first task was Keigo getting properly washed. 

At first, Keigo resisted.

“N-no, I’m fine, I’ll take one tomorrow,” Truthfully, he wouldn’t probably, not without your help. He just didn’t want you to see him so intimately in this state.

You shook your head, speaking as you brought several plush towels into the bathroom. You turned to Keigo who had wrapped his arms around his frail-looking form, looking at the floor.

You brought him into your arms, rubbing at his neck, not wanting to aggravate the injuries on his back, “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll feel good. Let me take care of you, please.”

You spoke so earnestly, it made Keigo fall apart. He hated being so helpless. 

He nodded against you.

You sat him on the toilet seat while you ran a bath in Keigo’s spectacular tub. You poured in epsom salts and some lavender bubble bath, filling the room with a familiar, herbal scent.

You helped him strip, mindful to not linger on any part of his body. Carefully, you lowered Keigo into the water. He could help but be surprised by the strength in your body to do so. Perhaps foolishly, he had never taken you as physically strong. After stripping yourself, you got in as well, across from him, so you wouldn’t see his scars. You were perhaps a bit too considerate.

The water burned his wounds, yet calmed his muscles. It was a different sensation than the ones he’d had for the past weeks. He welcomed it.

Keigo sagged in the bathwater, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time in so long. You knelt in the water and suds, lathering up his hair and body. So carefully did you wash away the sweat, smells, and lingerings of the hospital and the war that preceded it. You went through his hair with your own conditioner, figuring that the familiar smell might help keep him calm. Keigo didn’t say anything, just let you do as you needed. You carefully untangled any and all knots from his tresses, rinsing him down.

You dried him off, putting a few scented body oils on his dry patches of skin, parched from his time in the hospital. You still didn’t look at his back.

He felt ashamed and thoroughly disgusted. He smushed his face into your shoulder, gripping onto your like if he wasn’t, he’d die.

You find him fucking repulsive, right?

 “Kei’,” Your voice quiet still, “You okay?— Wait, don’t answer that.”

You chuckle at yourself. Keigo would’ve laughed too if he could. 

Keigo dressed himself, a semi-self sufficient act that made him feel better. Though, you picked out the clothes. Some of your own, soft, old garments that Keigo had seen you in a hundred times. 

It was only before he put on a shirt that you gave his back the quickest once-over, “You can put your shirt on now, Kei’. I just wanted to make sure it looked okay. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Even that much sight and contact of the old roots of his wings made him feel so ashamed. It burned the corpse of his ego like the hot fire that crisped his wings. 

Despite those nasty feelings, the simple act of wearing your shirt made him feel better. It felt so good, so good, to be surrounded by you instead of the sterility of the hospital. 

 You had been kind enough to leave the hospital for a bit longer than normal the day prior to go shopping. You bought Keigo a large, fluffy, ivory blanket. You even washed it, so it smelled like home (and you) too.  

After you helped him to the wide couch, custom made to accommodate Keigo’s now torched wings. It was a small burn (ha) to his psyche, but he tried to let it go as you got him comfortable.

You gave him your special pillow. The one Keigo loved to steal and take naps with. You covered him in the new blanket.

“Is that okay?” You asked, tucking him in. Keigo would normally be embarrassed by something childish like that, but he couldn’t make himself care. It felt so good to be comforted. 

 So softly, he replied, “You made it feel like home already.”

You let a sad smile drift to your face, massaging Keigo’s scalp as he sobbed into his new blanket. 

He was so glad to be surrounded by you, no matter how rotten he felt. 

 -------------------

 The first week home was the hardest. Sleeping was painful, even next to you. Eating was a fucking labor as he had no appetite. Nothing interested him in the slightest other than staring at walls and pretending he would wake up from this nightmare soon.

An at-home physical therapist was brought in. He had to retrain the muscles in his back to relax, now that they weren’t carrying the weight of his wings. The constant tension in his back would cause long term damage (not like he wasn’t already riddled with chronic injury), least of all tension headaches. 

Your job let you work from home. Thank god.

...

Keigo hated his exercises. They hurt so bad.

For years, Keigo had trained his body, fucking perfected its abilities. Every part of him was honed and forcibly designed to be the winged-hero, Hawks. But, now? He was the defunct number two, ‘Hawks’ and at home— reality? He was the comically broken Keigo Takami who struggled to do basic physical therapy. 

Only you knew him like that.

 Keigo’s fists slammed against the floor as he strained with his PT exercises, the therapist themselves long gone for the day. You worked from your laptop on the couch. You weren’t supposed to aid him with his exercises unless necessary, as the therapist had instructed.

“Do you want me to help you?” You asked, almost coaxingly. 

Keigo beat his fists once more, crying out almost like a petulant child, (he hated himself for it oh my god—), “I don’t want to fucking do this! I can’t do this!”

And Keigo sobbed into the floor with abandon.

You moved from the couch to haul him into your arms, pressing his face into your neck. You said nothing, you just let him scream and die against you.

“I can’t do this!” 

“I hate this!”

“Make this fucking stop!”

“Just make this all fucking stop!”

“JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY!”

This got you to speak, not shushing him, but just trying to soothe—

“IF YOU REALLY FUCKING LOVE ME, THEN YOU’LL SLIT MY THROAT IN MY SLEEP AND LET THIS FUCKING NIGHTMARE BE OVER!—”

 You froze. 

He didn’t.

Keigo kept begging you to kill him. 

Incessantly so.

He didn’t know what to do.

This was a tantrum, maybe. More like a breakdown. It felt dramatic. But, his thoughts were real. He’d be happy to die, especially by your hand. Then you wouldn’t have to take care of him and he wouldn’t be able to feel as awful as he did. 

You kept holding him, squeezing him harder and harder still. 

Finally, Keigo tuckered himself out and sagged against you. 

 You reached up to the side table, grabbing your own glass of water, and offering it to him. You still hadn’t spoken.

Part of him thought to apologize, crack a joke even. But he couldn’t make himself do either. Instead, his shaking hands grabbed the glass. You didn’t fully let it go, just guided it to his lips where it dribbles down his chin. 

Keigo sputtered a sob.

He couldn’t stand being so weak.

 “Love,” You spoke so softly as he sipped. “I will never hurt you like that. I won’t let anyone else, either.”

Keigo suddenly started fucking laughing, for the first time in so fucking long, ripping the cup fully from your hands and throwing it across the room. It shattered in a wild display of raining glass and water. He hadn’t laughed in what felt like months. He let it loose, grabbing your face and directing it right at you, breath curling over your cheeks.

He knew it was cruel, to take it out on you. He hated himself for it even as he was doing it.

“How the fuck do you think you’ll protect me?” Keigo cackled into your face, horror beginning to overtake your features. He didn’t care. It felt good— “You’re just some stupid, weak, quirkless civilian— how the fuck do you think someone as powerless as you can protect me when I can’t even protect me—!”

 He kept laughing, but he was crying. He couldn’t tell which was which. Keigo could only tell he was hysterical.

 This whole time, since he had woken up in the hospital, you had been nothing but the perfect partner. You had been so kind, asking for nothing in return.

And yet, he’d verbally strike you like this for no other reason than his own hurt.

How fucking cruel.

 You let Keigo go, unable to disguise the pain in your expression. You didn’t say anything back to him. As you left the room, you were covering your eyes with your arm. Keigo caught one of your sobs as you fled to the bathroom, almost slamming the door. 

 Keigo heard your muffled cries for hours until you fell asleep on the bathroom tile as his old burns and guilt ate him alive. 

 He tried his exercises again. 

 -------------------

 That night, Keigo was too deep in sleep to hear you enter your shared bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to sleep next to him. You thought about returning to the bathroom or moving to the couch. But, you couldn’t make yourself. 

Keigo’s words hurt so bad. 

Partially because they were cruel. They gnawed at your insecurities, the fears you were desperately suppressing for him. 

Partially because you hated the fact you couldn’t do more, despite already doing so much. 

Partially because you knew that Keigo would never say things like that to you if he wasn’t being eaten up on the inside. 

Partially because the love of your life asked you to snuff his life out. 

It all hurt. Stung. Ached. Burned. 

 There was a small detail that hurt in a different way.

He called you quirkless.

You weren’t quirkless.

Your quirk was so weak and so taxing, sure. It was basically unusable. For fucks sake, you never even bothered to tell Keigo directly as you never used it. He had access to citizen quirk records, and you figured he checked in the several years the two of you had been dating. Apparently not.

But, you did have a quirk.

You stood next to your bed, Keigo covered in the comforter and soft white blanket you’d gotten for him. You could see the peakings of his back. His skin was marred with burns, cuts and scars that looked unimaginably horrible. You’d been avoiding looking at it, for him. You’d seen how it made him cringe.

But now with Keigo sleeping so deeply? You took it all in.

You looked at the nearly black scarring where the roots of his wings were. The fanning out of puckered, red skin from the burns. His back, which once rippled with the muscles that controlled his crazily powerful wings, was now a charred plain. 

...

You had an awful, far-fetched, fucked up idea. 

You sat, sinking into the bed as you contemplated your idea.

You brought your hands to your face, concentrating on your fingertips. 

Small, tiny vines and green shoots left your fingers.

There’s absolutely no way that this will work.

But, you’d hate yourself if you didn’t try.

 Life reclaimed life, you supposed. 

You drummed up a half-assed plan. It was a weak, frail idea— it would need a lot of support. Even then, you didn’t want to give yourself false hope. You couldn’t give Keigo false hope. It would ruin him.

...

You’d have to fix your diet. Eat lots of nutrient-rich food. Take more vitamins too.

You slotted yourself next to Keigo who, in sensing your warmth, turned into you, pressing into your front. His head nuzzled into your chest, an arm wrapping around your waist. 

You heard him wince at the motion, flinching in his sleep.

You had to try. 

One of your hands went to his back, brushing down the comforter to reveal the particularly gnarly scars where Keigo had lost part of himself. You laid your hand flat on the fire-flayed skin, praying you don’t wake him. You concentrated, watching small greenery go from your fingers to his flesh, desperately trying to repair the damage that had been done. 

 ------------------------------------

 Keigo apologized to you the next morning. He clutched your chest and told you how sorry he was. He told you how he knows he’s acting out, he’s just so fucking sad—

You told him that he didn’t need to justify himself. Not to you. Though, you accepted his apology and asked him to not say those kinds of things to you again.

“I’m trying my best, and I know it's not enough sometimes... but it's all I’ve got,” You speak to him in your own small voice. One that portrayed a weakness that you hadn’t shown since Keigo had been injured.

He felt even guiltier. 

 But, the second week was better.

His exercises were getting easier. Eating came a little better too. You started cooking more, not getting as much takeout. Part of him missed the comfort of familiar street foods, but another part of him craved the home-cooked meals you made so much more. They helped him feel better too, packed with veggies and lean proteins. 

Keigo didn’t notice, he was far too out of it, but you were already looking more haggard. 

It came with using your quirk in general, let alone to the extent you were pushing it. It was a pitiful quirk and you’d never strained it half as far as you were then. 

It had a price. 

To heal others, even something as small as a paper cut would take from your own body.

And, you were dedicating at least thirty minutes a night to attempting to ‘heal’ (read: reconstruct) the tissue of Keigo’s back. You had to start so deep in his muscles; it hurt to push your quirk that far down. Within the first five minutes, that first night you tried, you were silently crying from exertion.

But, you didn’t relent.

Each day, it was a little easier.

Sure, you had bad nights where it was extra hard. You blamed it on not eating well enough, using up too much of yourself during the day. 

It was a shitty excuse, notably. Your quirk was weak and self-destructive, it was beyond your bodily capabilities. There was no way to tell if it was even working to heal Keigo’s body. It was a gamble. 

And your wager was your health and body.

Even eating optimally and taking a bevy of new vitamins each morning before Keigo awoke, you could tell your physical health was suffering. You were losing a bit of fat already. Dark circles were punched under your eyes from the exhaustion. You had developed the slightest shake when you moved.

And the worst part was, you knew that you’d only get weaker from here on out.

So, you upped your calorie intake. You kept careful track of the foods you ate, the same with Keigo’s. He didn’t seem to mind the delicious meals you now coveted crafting, no matter how tired you were. If he was eating better, it would probably help you too, right?

You could only hope, resting it all on a long shot. 

 --------------------------

 Week three was good, but hard. 

The HPSC commission forced Keigo to do a media appearance. He told them, bluntly, that he couldn’t fake it right now. Probably, forever. 

They told him to suck it up, get out there, and put some hope into their society that was being pulled apart at the seams.

Keigo refused to let you come. He didn’t want to think about how you’ll look at him when he’s all dressed in his hero uniform, wings absent from his back, forcing him to bear the two empty slots of his jacket. 

When he mentioned it, you offered to sew them up.

Keigo felt horrible, but he just gave a nod, handing you his jacket without looking at you. 

You stitched the slits shut for him. Keigo requested red thread for the stitching and you obliged him.

 (You made note that Keigo truly had no hope. You couldn’t tell him a thing about your quirk usage until you were positive that it would have results.) 

 The media appearance went okay. Not great, but okay. ‘Hawks’ was dead, and Keigo was not a performer like he was. Though he still went by his hero name, his real name only known by himself, the Commission, Dabi (may he rot in hell), and you. He coveted that you had the intimacy in knowing his identity, but it felt dirtier now that Dabi (Touya?) had that name in his throat as well.

 When Keigo came home from the media appearance, he was keyed up. He flitted around the apartment while you made dinner. There was an anxiousness in his movements.‘Hawks’ would’ve taken to the skies to fly off some of this fractious energy. Keigo just had to wait for food to be ready and pray that the feelings went away. 

Just before dinner, he decided to try exercises outside of the one his physical therapist assigned him. He was feeling energetic enough, right? Might as well pull out some of the easier moves from his hero training. 

Keigo moved to his now seldom-used at home gym. He picked up a dust-covered five-pound weight and proceeded to try and curl it. The moment Keigo brought it above his head, his back tensed and burned something fierce.

The weight fell from Keigo’s hand, half-thrown, luckily missing any and all of his toes and feet. 

He cried in frustration, stuck staring at himself in the wall of mirrors. 

Keigo truly thought he looked pitiful.

He was still wearing his hero uniform sans the jacket. He’d lost a lot of muscle mass with his more sedentary state. His hair was too long. He had gotten more pale, losing his few freckles. His eyes were bloodshot and his teeth curl over his lips in a snarl—

“Keigo?” You opened the door to the gym, eyes wide with shock, but your tone didn’t change. He just glowered at you from the mirrors. You spoke again, staring him down with an almost scarily neutral poker face. “Dinner’s ready. Would you like to eat? Otherwise, I can save it for you.”

Keigo didn’t reply. He went back to trying to pick up the weight, screaming each time and hating how his back burned so intensely.

You left without saying anything. 

 ---------------------------

 Week four was hard because you and Keigo’s relationship is beginning to suffer. Or, it had been, but it was reaching a fever pitch. 

Keigo’s lack of human contact, lack of physical activity, and general cabin fever were getting to him. He was lashing out more and you, kind as you were, were having trouble dealing with it.

Your own run downstate was eating you alive, literally. No matter how much you put into your body, you needed more to heal Keigo. You were up to two hours a night of working at Keigo’s tissue with your quirk. By the end of your ‘sessions’, you would simply pass out and fall into listless slumber. You were losing a lot of sleep each night, but you were determined to keep going. 

Your exhaustion, in general, was making you a bit more prickly towards Keigo’s increasing frequent outbursts.

It all came to a head on a Sunday night.

The two of you were curled up on the couch, half-cuddling and half-watching TV.

A notice for breaking news showed red on the screen.

Both of you tensed. Before Keigo’s injury, he’d be rushing to throw on his hero gear and fly to help. Now, he just sat next to you, stiff as a board with pin-pricked pupils.

A picture, pre-PLF injury Endeavor flashed on screen.

“The Hero Public Safety Commission has just made the press release the former number one hero, Endeavor, is no longer in comatose.”

You watched a real, happy smile, spread on Keigo’s face. For a moment, there was a sliver of hope—

“But, he still remains in critical condition. Due to injuries affecting his central nervous system, he is reported as being in a state of paralysis. As of now, his life still hangs in the balance, though he is lucid.”

Keigo stiffened again.

There was rage painting his face. 

And pain. 

You stiffened with him.

You did not have it in you that night to deal with one of Keigo’s explosive moments. 

“Endeavor has left us all with this message—”

The camera flashed to an old video of the old ‘number one hero’, healthy and strong with a fist raised in the air.

You braced for impact as Keigo stood, shoulders hunching over.

Endeavors voice washed over your living room,

“Go Plus Ultra!”

And Keigo, honest to god, shrieked.

He fell to his knees and beat the floor beneath him. He slammed his fists in the hardwood over, and over, and over again. You slipped to the ground with him, trying to grab at his fists.

“Keigo, you’re gonna hurt yourself—” You tried to tell him. You managed to capture one of his fists, urging it to stay down-

But, you looked up to see Keigo giving a feral look with a frenzied, white-hot sneer all for you. 

 And his free fist flew towards you. It connected hard and solidly to your jaw.

You hadn’t been expecting it. Keigo had never struck you before, not even close. For fucks sake, he had never even raised his voice at you before his injury.

So, how could you expect to brace yourself for it?

The force of Keigo’s blow knocked you back. You jolted, falling onto your side and turning your head to the side, away from Keigo.

You brought a hand up to cup and shield your face, your jaw and eye socket throbbing. 

All you could feel was shock.

And sadness.

And horror.

And anger.

And terror.

 Keigo snapped out of it.

The news report was still playing, but he couldn’t hear it.

There was only the rushing of blood in his ears.

His mouth turned bone dry.

He had watched you move with his strike, falling more to the ground, hiding yourself—

“Oh my g-god, (Y/N),” Keigo’s voice was slippery and warbling. “I-I d-didn’t—” 

“No,” You stood up, still holding and hiding your face from him. His heart was crumbling in his chest.

You looked at him with only fear and heartbreak.

Keigo scrambled up, trying to apologize, hold you, mend this before it got worse—

But you put the hand that wasn’t cupping your face out, just barely touching his chest. You refused to let him any closer. 

“H-hey Kei’?” Your voice sounded so, so shaky. It’s hardly there. You were holding back tears and it was so obvious. It made every part of Keigo burn with shame. “I can’t today. Maybe another day, I could deal with this, y-ya know? But not today, okay? Have a g-good night.”

You walked away before he could say anything else.

 You dashed off to the guest room, shutting and locking the door before falling against it and breaking. You cried and rocked yourself as you tried to self-soothe your shattered body and mind. 

The month prior had been so hard. The person you love was hurt so deeply, and though you were trying with everything you had to help, it didn’t seem like enough. You were getting verbally beat up semi-frequently and now Keigo had fucking hit you. 

You were scared. You were terrified that this would become the norm. That Keigo’s outbursts would continue to worsen, as they had been, and you would become a physical punching bag for him.

It especially hurt because you were trying so hard to help Keigo. 

You weren’t delusional enough to think you could really fix him, were you? 

The fact that you were secretly and silently trying to regenerate Keigo’s body with a quirk he didn’t even know you had struck you bluntly in your mind.

“I’m just so fucked up, aren’t I?” You laughed and sobbed to yourself at the same time, slamming your head backward on the door, relishes the pain that floods your skull. It was a reprieve from the bruises blooming across your cheekbone. 

You eventually managed to cry yourself to sleep, literally. You curled up in a ball on the floor next to the door, worn down to the bone.

 In the early morning, far before dawn, you pulled yourself into half-wakefulness. 

You were relentless and you were coming to hate yourself for it.

You needed to work on Keigo, no matter how you shitty felt.

You crept into the master bedroom, trying to be silent. You didn’t want to wake him. Only when you were fully in the room did you notice a soft lamp is still on despite it being early, early morning. 

Wide awake and upright, Keigo looked horrified to see you. He looked at you, shaking and half-sobbing into a pillow he clutched to his chest.

You both seemed shocked to see each other. 

You sniffled as you turned off the lamp, stripping down to just a t-shirt and panties before climbing into your side of the bed.

You refused to face him while he was awake. You got as comfortable as you could (which wasn’t much). 

There was half an hour of disgustingly awkward silence. It coated the room, bearing the two of you who refused to sleep. 

“I’m s-sorry,” Keigo had yet to move. He was frozen in place as you were turned away from him in the dark. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

Silence.

Your mouth felt dry and your mind parched. 

“Keigo,” You spoke like a being empty. You truly felt like it too. “If you ever touch me like that again, I will do worse than just leave you.”

It was a threat.

You let yourself have it, in all of this. You deserved one low blow. 

Keigo slowly slid down into the covers, babbling apologies and beginning to cry again. 

“Stop, Kei’,” You finally turned towards him, cupping his face. He blinked at you, eyes wide and glassy. “I love you. Just stop. Apologizing doesn’t make something like this better. I can’t do this if you keep hurting me, you know that. Just be better.”

Keigo winced at that. He knew it was true, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.

You fell asleep on each other that night. You let your headrest nestled up against Keigo’s chest. He breathed softly above you, arms wrapped securely around you, holding you tightly like he was afraid you’d leave. You wouldn’t. You made the decision to stay at the beginning of all this. Your threats would always be empty. 

Idly, you had an arm thrown over Keigo’s waist, snaking up the back of his shirt to press your fingertips against his scars. Your roots and greenery didn’t have to go as deep now, as far as you could tell.

But, it had been a month with no discernable progress, visual or otherwise. 

But, you held onto hope. 

Because you had to hold onto hope that Keigo would get better. 

All of him.

 -------------------------------

      The second month was... different. 

Keigo tried with his whole heart to earn back your trust.

You flinched at him for the first week or so. 

He hated himself so fucking much each time you did. But, he never blamed you. He couldn’t.

(Even as you twitched away from him in the daylight, you tirelessly worked on his scars in his sleep. You couldn’t give up, no matter how awful you felt). 

Keigo did his exercises several times a day. He made a few more media appearances but refused to be seen with Endeavor. He (and truthfully, the Commission) knew that he could not psychologically handle it.

You were rapidly getting weaker, but you didn’t care. You ate more, slept when you could, and pushed on. You were up to three hours of healing a night. Tears rolled down your cheeks the whole time.

You were clinging to the prayer that you could unburn Keigo’s back like it would save you from your personally made hell. 

This was despite the fact he was already crawling out of the pit himself. 

 Your existence was eased slightly as Keigo was starting to help out more. 

Keigo wasn’t anywhere near normal— normal Keigo was dead in a disintegrated building, miles from your shared home. But, he was getting better.

 His muscles felt better. He wasn’t sure how, but they did. His PT exercises must’ve been working. The outbursts he had thrown so often during the first month pittered out to maybe once or twice a week. They were calmer now. You were still his anchor, of course, that was undeniable. But, it was mostly crying and clutching and not screaming and breaking.

It was a welcome shift.

Most of the time, Keigo would pull you into his lap and wrap you in his embrace. Softly, he’d sway and rock the two of you, like he was trying to lull and calm not just himself, but you in tandem.

A lot of the time, this was true. 

Your flinching subsided and Keigo had no more close calls with any physical violence towards you. In a few high strung moments, he still snapped at you. He’d apologize, and do better. At least, you told yourself that. That’s how you saw it anyways. 

Keigo was thoroughly traumatized. His mind was an open nerve and that had consequences. You were so endlessly tired. What kind of wounds and trauma were you incurring?

You forced yourself not to think about it. 

 Part of you, during this month, wanted to simply pack a bag and leave without a trace. 

But, you stayed with Keigo. You stayed determined. 

(Or, you stayed out of spite. On your bad days, you really had trouble figuring it out.)

Your body looked like shit. You were endlessly glad Keigo still wasn’t in a position to be having any sort of sex because he probably would’ve noticed how fucked up your body was getting.

You shook constantly, always quaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Your skin bruised with almost any contact beyond light touch. Your eyes, once vibrant and expressive, had sunk in. 

Your body, no matter the several thousand extra calories you forced yourself to eat a day, still ran through your fat reserves. It was leeching muscle from you. It made your joints feel raw. 

 It almost hurts that you noticed how Keigo is so pained, but he didn’t notice you falling apart.

 -----------------------

      The third month was when shit hit the fan.

It was near the end of the month. 

You were doing so badly. You stretched yourself far beyond your body's abilities. 

You felt particularly sick, but you needed to get groceries. Keigo couldn’t himself for a host of reasons, which made it your job. You kissed him on the cheek as you left for the market.

Meanwhile, Keigo’s physical therapist dropped by for a check-in appointment. 

Keigo did his exercises beautifully. He had to admit, his muscles didn’t ache in nearly the same way they used to. They only really hurt when the weather changed, like he was some old, arthritic man. 

“Wow!” His therapist gasped, watching him complete his exercises. “It’s looking great, Hawks. It looks like you’ve gained back a lot of strength.”

The small amount of praise made him beam as he sat up. 

“I just want to check the actual wounds around your back, if that’s alright? Just feel the scar tissue,” The therapist asked. Keigo bit his lip, slowly pulling off his tee-shirt. He didn’t like the idea of anyone’s hands being that close to the intimate roots of his dead wings. 

But, it was necessary.

Keigo faced his back to her.

All he got was an audible gasp as the therapist’s hands traced at his spine.

“The progress back here- Hawks this is insane,” The other was alight, pressing a thumb somewhere near the root. It hardly even hurt. “The scar tissue— it’s not gone, but it's a lot more tender than it should be. Like it's actually healing.”

“Is that why it doesn’t hurt so bad?” Keigo asked, letting a few slivers of joy light him up from the inside out. During his initial prognosis, multiple doctors had said that he was going to be on fire for years, not months. 

The therapist nodded, “Looks like it. Even the scarring on the surface looks pretty good. Must have some damn good genes to be healing like this.”

The two laughed, Keigo feeling more lighthearted than he had in months. 

 You, on the other hand, were greatly struggling. 

You were so, so fucking cold; yet another bi-product of your overextension. You were wrapped in an oversized cardigan on top of one of Keigo’s mock necks. You couldn’t stop trembling as you try to shop as quickly and effectively as possible. Anything to get you home as soon as possible. 

You had a great deal of difficulty doing this, though.

If you moved too fast, your vision blacked out. It had been like that for a while, a week or two. You’d lost track. You figured it was your iron, maybe blood pressure. 

It was an easy thing to hide at home, but much harder in public.

You reached for something high on a metal shelf, tossing it into your cart. You needed another item, on the bottom shelf. You dropped to your knees, your body aching and rolling.

Almost done.

So close. 

Then you can go home and rest.

You stood up too fast. Your vision went black ringed for a second. You stumble, trying to catch yourself as you lost sight. 

You felt weightless for a moment, spinning, Though your limbs felt weighed down, impossible to move. As your vision returned, its field wouldn’t move, pointed up at the ceiling of the crowded market. 

There were people speaking, shouting around you.

Alarmed.

Speaking to you?

You didn’t care.

You were so, so tired.

You let your eyes slip shut.

 ------------ 

 Keigo had been waiting for you for several hours longer than it took to go grocery shopping, sure. And, to have you gone from the apartment so long made him itch too. It had been eating him, making him pace around. You hadn’t been answering your phone either. He figured you had made a detour and let your phone die.

 When he received a call from the local civilian hospital about you, he feels his blood freeze in his veins. 

“You’re listed here as (Y/N)’s emergency contact as a partner, yes?” The nurse asked. “They collapsed at a local market. They’re stable, but we’d recommend coming to the hospital as soon as you’re able to.” 

Keigo nodded, head swimming.

You’re hurt.

You’re safe, but you’re hurt.

...

Keigo was whisked to the back of the hospital in a poor disguise. He gets recognized, given some extra security. The scar that marred his face was enough of a marker even if he didn’t have wings. He hardly cared. He couldn’t. 

Your door opened to a very dark room, soft beeps and hums filling it. 

He imagined that he must've been feeling close to how you felt, seeing him in such a similar position those few months ago.

The nurse enters ahead of him, clicking around on a tablet to pull up your chart.

Keigo could hardly pay attention. He felt like he was going to die, seeing you like that.

You had an IV, pushing fluids into your thinned arms. Your face was hollow looking, sockets sunken, especially with your eyes closed like they were. You had several blankets on you, piled over you. Yet, you were still visibly shivering.

The nurse whispered, “They’ve been asleep for a while now. A doctor will be in soon. Just sit tight.”

She left the room while Keigo pulled a chair up to your bed. 

The smell of the hospital burned his nose. It reminded him far too much of his own time. All that pain. 

The ache in his back flared, but he figured it was somatic.

 Keigo reached out as he sat, holding one of your frail-looking hands in both of his own (had you looked this purely death stricken this morning? Keigo couldn’t recall either way, and he hates himself for it).

Your eyes slowly opened.

 Keigo met your gaze, breath caught in both of your throats.

Neither of you got a chance to speak, not a moment of fucking comfort, before a doctor barged in, flipping through your chart with a bored look on his face.

“We finished up your testing. Lucky for you, no concussion or fractures from your fall,” The doctor nods. He doesn’t even seem to notice Keigo, or rather, Hawks. “The rest of your results aren’t looking so great though.”

Your hand stiffened violently in Keigo’s grip. Your face went from worn and exhausted to filled with terror and... guilt?

 You were fucked.

The doctors and nurses had mentioned to you that they were fairly certain that all of your symptoms came from quirk overuse. You started weakly crying at that, your nurses looking confused. You didn’t elaborate then. You knew, the moment you woke up in the hospital that you were going to have to confront your own damage to your body.

You were going to be forced to explain it.

To Keigo.

The doctor continued. 

“Low levels of nearly all essential vitamins and minerals. Particularly low iron, magnesium, and potassium. In general, your test results and physical state would lead me to think you’re suffering from malnutrition. But, your panel shows that your metabolic rate is actually going abnormally quickly in a way that could only be linked to-”

Wait for it.

“Quirk overuse-”

Keigo barked out a laugh, letting go of your hand, “I’m sorry, but what? They’re quirkless, it has to be something else.”

 You didn’t say anything. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, are trained on your lap. You’re taking sharp, quick breaths.

You’re going to have to tell him everything.

 The doctor flips through your chart again, shaking his head and bringing it over for Keigo to look at, “I apologize if this seems out of turn, but they’re listed in the public files as having a quirk... It’s marked as a weak healing quirk, but all the same, any strength of quirk has overuse.”

Keigo is stone still.

There’s tension so thick in the air of the room that the doctor excuses himself. 

 Keigo, for months now, had been in a traumatized stupor. His normally sharpened senses, aided by his wings, were the key to so much of his cunning. Both his physical and mental states were affected, which had made him less observant.

It had caused him to disregard so much. 

 But now, in your stupid, acrid hospital room, he was quickly putting it together. 

His back burned again. 

 You felt frozen. You couldn’t force yourself to move. You couldn’t do anything other than look at your lap and roll in your head. Your body hurt so bad, your head hurt too, and so did your fucking heart.

 “Can I clarify? Because I think I have an idea of what’s going on.”  Keigo had physically moved away from you. He leaned back in his chair, staring down with a mix of expressions you couldn’t suss out. It made you feel even sicker.

You nodded.

“Breath, (Y/N),” Keigo reminded you. He watched you take a massive inhale, followed by tears beginning to gather. You still wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

 “Have you been... using your quirk on me? Without me knowing?” Keigo asked, trying to keep his voice firm, but truthfully, it wanted to waver and bend so badly. “Please be honest.”

You nod, breaking down to rub at your eyes. 

Keigo doesn’t stop the instinctual way he moved towards you, leaning over your bed and wrapping his arms around me.

With his cheek pressed to the top of your head, he broke the illusion:

“Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

And so, you did.

It came out tearfully, you spilling and cracking as you did. You felt stupid and guilty and awful, but at least you were out of this fucked up lie. 

It all poured out of you. Your fear and your desperation were all laid out and Keigo was reading the cards.  

You explained that your quirk has always been weak in addition to taxing on the body. Hence, you had seldom, if ever, used it as an adult. You were effectively quirkless and you were okay with that. Keigo had never asked so you never told him. 

You tell him, voice shaking, what happened the night Keigo had pleaded with you to kill him.

“I-I, Kei’,” You push out, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do. You were so hurt and so sad and I had this stupid fucking idea that maybe, maybe I could use to my quirk to heal you.”

Keigo’s breath catches. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me? Ask me?”

“I didn’t know if it would work. I still don’t know if it does. It didn’t wanna... I didn’t want to get your hopes up. E-especially since it would’ve been coming from me.” You pressed harder into him like you’re scared of him disappearing. “You were already so crushed.”

Keigo didn’t know what to say. There was a swirl of emotions bubbling and writhing in his body and mind and he didn’t know what to say for the first time in a long time.

 So he didn’t say anything.

Keigo sat back in his chair, putting his elbows to his knees, using folded hands to rest his head on, parsing through his own feelings.

“K-Keigo?” You asked, wiping a tear away. As much as Keigo hated seeing you like this, he also recognized your state was by your hand. 

Right?

“Sweetheart, I love you—” Keigo stopped himself, sighing deep in his chest. “But, I can’t... I just need some time.”

 You nodded, tears coming back to drip down your face.

Keigo just watched with a neutral expression.

 -----------------

 Despite not being able to handle talking to you, Keigo was more than willing to help you out of the hospital. You were discharged with a prescribed diet and vitamins as well as a followup appointment in a few weeks. 

“And, most importantly,” The doctor made eye contact with you. “Don’t use that quirk of yours until further notice. Honestly, with it being so destructive, I can’t understand why you would in the first place.”

You burned with shame.

The night you came back from the hospital, Keigo took incredible care of you. He didn’t talk much during it, not to you anyways. He was nearly constantly speaking under his breath, all unintelligible. From his tone and myriad of expressions, you guessed he was verbally processing. 

Keigo gingerly gave you a bath, scrubbing away the smells and stickiness of the hospital. He managed to cook you one of the nutritious recipes you had shown him a few weeks ago. You sheepishly had to ask for another portion, explaining how your metabolism burned so quickly.

“Have...” Keigo finally spoke while making you another plate. “Have you always been eating this much?”

You nodded, sipping your water, “For a long time, yes.”

He hated himself for not noticing such obvious things. 

 Keigo kept carrying you from place to place, no matter how much his back hurt. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.

He laid you in bed at some point, sliding in next to you. He still hadn’t spoken much since you’d left the hospital. 

You had tried to babble apologies and beg for forgiveness, but selfishly, Keigo wasn’t listening. He was trapped in his own head. Even when you clung to him in the bath, he could hardly make himself hold you up from sliding too far into the water. 

It almost hurt to touch you.

 It was late when Keigo finally verbally, directly regarded you. 

“Why?” Keigo asked. You’re both turned away from each other. The bed had been vibrating with your harsh breathing and crying for an hour or so now. “Why did you do all this?”

You stop shaking, but only for a moment.

Your voice is so soft, weak, “Please don’t blame yourself. It was my choice.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Keigo could hear the anger in his voice. “Why. Did. You. Do. This?”

You’re silent for a moment. 

And then you’re sitting up, yelling.

“Because I didn’t know what else to fucking do!” You gripped your hair at the roots, pulling. “You asked me to fucking kill you, Keigo! You begged me to!”

Keigo sat up, staring you down. He felt so much anger and rage in him, it was bubbling up, “That doesn’t mean you had to hurt yourself like this for me!”

“I didn’t want to hurt myself! I wanted to help you! Using my quirk was all I could do!” You looked over at him, digging your nails into your exposed thighs. “What else was I supposed to do!”

“Exactly what I thought you were doing, helping me!” Keigo screamed back at you. “You were doing so good at it!”

“You wanna know why I could even help?!” You shouted. You grabbed Keigo’s shoulders and brought him inches away from your face. “Because, every night, I got to give myself just a shred of hope that you would get better. That maybe, maybe your wings would come back and you’d smile like you used to instead of yelling at me, and hitting me, and asking me, begging me, to slit your fucking throat!”

 You couldn’t stop crying. Your body was so run down, so depleted, but it still musters up the energy to drip tears like a flooded creek. You wanted to run and leave the bed, retreat to the bathroom where you can break down on the tile in peace, alone where Keigo wouldn’t have to watch. You’d done it enough prior to know he wouldn’t check on you.

 Keigo stared at you with wide eyes. 

He didn’t know what to say at first

He was feeling so much—

 Keigo didn’t know what to do or say.

So, he just twisted the knife, one could say.

 “You should’ve just left if you were really that miserable with me.” Keigo regretted it the moment it left his lips. You tense up, looking at him with a gaze he could only call broken.

 “No,” You grabbed your shoulders, rocking yourself. “No, Kei’, I couldn’t, I won’t—”

“Then stop complaining.” Keigo shrugged. God, this was awful, wasn’t it? Why wouldn’t he just shut up? “You’re the one who stayed and tortured yourself. That’s on you.”

“So you’d rather have that I... left?”

“Duh,” Keigo laughed, staring down your crying form. You’re so decrepit in your current state. He hated looking at you, purely because he knows he was at least a portion of what led to this. But, he’d never admit it. “Fuck, (Y/N), you didn’t have to kill me, and you didn’t have to kill yourself either.” 

 He’s splitting inside as he watches you break in front of him. Some fucked up, sadistic part of him relishes it. The other, muted, more sane part is screaming at him to stop fucking talking-

“You really got yourself hospitalized for overusing a quirk on me that I didn’t even know you had. You were so desperately trying to get me my wings back, all while acting soooo supportive of me trying to live without them?!” Keigo bellowed at you. You cowered, bent legs beginning to slide off the bed — “Do you realize how fucked up that is? That, behind closed doors, while I was fucking asleep, you were trying to fix me? Well, guess what, (Y/N), I’m broken beyond fucking repair, and no cute little shit you pull is going to fix me!”

Keigo shrieked his last words.

You fell off the bed, slamming onto the floor. A sickening crack filled the room as your head, basically unsupported, met the hardwood.

 “Stop it!” You were screaming yourself silly from the floor. Your head hurt so badly. Maybe you were bleeding. You didn’t care. “Stop it!”

You knew you couldn’t handle this.

You were raw. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t confront any more than you had already that day. Your body hurt so badly and your mind hurt too. Everything Keigo said just rubbed salt in the wounds he helped to create.

“Keigo, just fucking stop it!”

Your vision spun. You thought that maybe you were hyperventilating. You couldn’t feel your hands, numbness beginning to pull at your extremities. 

“I’m fucking sorry!” You wailed. “What would do if you were in my position, Keigo?! Just watch me suffer and not do anything even if you could?!”

Keigo leaned over the bed, giving you the most empty look you’d ever seen him wear. 

“I would’ve just fucking left, (Y/N),” He spoke in a monotone, eyes like dead coals. “I would’ve just left.”

You stared up at him.

This horrible feeling had filled you from toes to top and you couldn’t escape it.

 Keigo didn’t say anything else as you panicked on the floor. He simply got up, left for the guest room, and slammed the door.

 Neither of you ever felt as awful as you did that night.

 --------------------

 Keigo didn’t sleep that night.

Neither did you.

 He figured (he hoped) you’d be gone by the morning. Maybe you would just pack your dusty suitcase and get the fuck out.

...

Truthfully, not a single fragment of Keigo wanted you to leave. No piece of him wanted you to go out of his life. God, if he really thought about it, the prospect of not being side-by-side in this world together threw him into bends of anxiety and pure grief. 

Truthfully, as Keigo silently, tearfully, examined your actions, he felt his anger ebb away.

He understood. 

Why you did what you did.

But it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. 

Guilt was eating him, too. For all the horrible things he had said. The things he’d done that hurt you without regard for months now. The fact he never noticed you deteriorating. And all the nights you crept back into your shared room, for comfort and to keep trying to help him, though perhaps cruelly. 

 It was dawn when Keigo exited the guestroom. He figured that you were either gone or would be soon.

He was clearly mistaken.

Keigo stopped when he saw you at the kitchen table, head down, and resting on your folded arms. You were wearing a huge sweater, one of his, and a blanket around your shoulders.

Keigo had, incredibly selfishly, somewhat forgotten your physical state.

He ached.

 “I made coffee,” You said quietly. You looked up, meeting Keigo’s gaze with bloodshot, puffy eyes. “It’s still warm.”

“Why are you here?” Keigo asked, heart starting to beat too fast again. “Why haven’t you left-?”

“Do you really want me to leave?” You asked with an unfamiliar edge to your voice. It’s not anger or malice, but something different. You stand, bracing yourself on the table, wobbling. Keigo wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and apologize. But, he doesn’t. 

 You looked at him with this edge of fierce determination, asking the penultimate question, the core of this all, “Keigo, do you want me to leave because of my actions, or do you want me to leave because you don’t think you deserve help?”

There was a poignant quiet over the apartment. 

The birds of the new day interrupted it from outside, chirping with the eos of dawn.

“I don’t think... I—” Keigo was speechless again, stuttering. “You shouldn’t have hurt yourself so bad.”

“That’s been established, I went too far. I should’ve told you, offered and asked, and go from there. It ultimately was a complete breach of boundaries and for that, I’m sorry. Fuck my good intentions, it was selfish.” You squeezed the edge of the table, eyes low. Your gaze turned up sharply to meet his, that edge of determination and fierceness in it that Keigo was unfamiliar with. “My question is, do you want me to leave?”

Keigo stared at his feet. His head was swimming, “You should leave.”

“I asked if you want me to,” You asked again. You were being more firm than you had ever been. You sounded unbreakable. It was that stubbornness that kept you there with him, right?

Keigo met your eyes with a sharp glare, “You should’ve left the night I asked you to kill me.”

You sighed, shaking visibly, but still keeping yourself so strong, “Please just answer me. Do you want me to leave? If we’re going to break up, let’s just call it that, and get it over with, okay Kei’?”

Oh, hearing you say ‘breakup’—

That broke Keigo. 

Having to truly think and reckon with a reality where you weren’t with him and you weren’t facing the horrors of the world together was purely the stuff of nightmares. 

The stupid little facade Keigo had so carefully crafted broke. The burns on his body started to ache anew, somatically. The scar over his eye twitched as tears were gathering anew. 

“N-no,” Keigo hugged himself, shaking his head. “N-no— I don’t want you to go—” 

You didn’t say anything, just watched him with a sad expression.

“Then I won’t.” You sat back down. “Keigo, I know that this is all fucked beyond belief. I know. But, I won’t leave. I really, really don’t want to. I won’t, not unless you want me to go.”

And Keigo was breaking for you again. 

He somehow stumbled next to your chair, managing to fall to his knees and rest his head on your cold, cold thigh. He pressed his nose into your flesh, trying to fucking absorb your smell like you could disappear any moment. 

“Why did you do it-” Keigo sobbed into your skin, nails biting in the flesh of your calves. It made you jerk in your seat. “WHY DID YOU HURT YOURSELF FOR ME!”

You didn’t have a good answer for him, so you didn’t reply. 

Keigo’s grip on the flesh of his leg started to break skin as he wailed into your leg.

You just looked down at him with this expression of pure remorse,  melancholy coloring your eyes.

You grabbed his clawed-hands, recalling the last time you tried a move like this with a twitch. You held his hands in your own, pulling him up, “You can’t do that, Keigo. You’re hurting me.”

“All I DO is hurt YOU!” Keigo crushed you into a tight hug, knocking the wind from you. You jolt forward into his death grip. 

 “It was my choice,” You remind him, so much weakness in your choice. “A very, very selfish one. If I was going to try to heal you, I should’ve asked.”

You started crying with him. 

You both were just torturing yourselves, truthfully. 

 At his core, Keigo was a fucked up man who was so thoroughly repressed and manipulated, it was hard to see his psychological shortcomings. They were all so meticulously hidden. 

But not then, not after losing his wings.

“I’m so fucked up,” Keigo kept crying into you as you had his hands locked together. “I hate myself for being this upset at you when you were trying to help me.”

“Love,” Your voice was so soft, releasing Keigo’s hands to pet his hair. “It wasn’t right for me to try and do what I did. You can’t help how you feel.”

“I could before I lost them!” Keigo muffled himself with your flesh.

Them being his wings, obviously. 

You hauled him upwards, forcing him to sit in your lap. Keigo had always had a bit of size on you, but in your shrunken state, it was even more pronounced. 

“Then you weren’t feeling,” You pressed your face to Keigo’s chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He entangled himself with you, and you both just held each other for a long, long time.

 ------------------------

In the following six months, a many very important things happen.

Keigo got a place for you for two entire months, just so you two have some separation. After actually having a calm talk about your relationship dynamic since Keigo’s injury, it was comically apparent there were so many fucked up things that had happened and that you both needed a bit of time to collect yourselves.

It was a hard separation, but you still see each other at least half of the days of your time apart, and even a few that you snuck over for the night to stay over. Keigo was so, so thankful. Being wrapped in each other was a different experience, something actually healing. 

You both got therapists, next. A couples therapist too. 

Thank God. 

Keigo had oodles of trauma to sort through, and you had your own shit to deal with as well. Not to mention the whole ‘Keigo being a dick to you because he was hurt doesn’t justify it’ kinda broke your brain for a second. Also, Keigo having to process ‘he was capital A abusive to you after he got hurt, and your only stability being the hope in healing you is much more complicated than just them trying to ‘fix’ you’ was a case of note. 

It was weird, really. 

 When you moved back, fully, to Keigo’s (you weren’t sure if you could call it ‘your’ apartment anymore), it was nerve-wracking. It was under the understanding that you could move out if you needed to, that separation and an ending were just a corner away.

It made you feel more unstable than you had in months, but you kept up with it. 

Keigo noticed, much more observant than he had been. About two weeks into you returning to the apartment, he asked the question, “What if we moved?”

You had been quietly eating your breakfast, but this startled you, “Move? Why?”

“I mean,” Keigo sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze flickered to the living room, recalling the times he broke down and was so awful to you. It shifted to the bedroom door where you broke boundaries over and over. “A lot of bad stuff happened here. If we’re going to have a fresh start, might as well live somewhere new, right?”

You mused on it for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah, that would be good.”

The next few weeks were the most healthy and productive that you and Keigo ever had, pre- or post-injury. Apartment hunting turned into purchasing a two-floored, highrise, insanely nice condo across the city. Keigo suggested buying a house, but you refused. You both liked the views too much to live somewhere so close to the ground.

You packed your things, mutually. You both threw away plenty, bits and bobs that had been relatively unused for a long time. Lots of old memories were thrown out to make way for new ones. Though it was sad and there was plenty of grief in it, you actually had each other this time. 

When you found Keigo sobbing, clutching an old picture of him and Touya, one of the only of him from his childhood with the Commission, you held him and rocked him. You cried with him, not just settling for ‘dealing’ with him anymore. 

When you cleaned out the kitchen, you found the two dozen extra vitamins and extracts you had been taking while healing Keigo. You stared at him, idly, for ten minutes, somewhere far off in your head. Keigo came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. Softly, he pulled you back from your mind. He helped you throw away each bottle, talking reverently to you so your gaze and mind would stay in that moment, and not those past and unsavory.  

You helped each other, or, were learning to.

 You and Keigo both had to agree that shopping for furniture was probably the most fun the two of you had in a while. With a facemask and a beanie on, Keigo appeared a lot less like his former self, allowing for the two of you to covertly search for new homewares without prying crowds.

The old apartment had originally been Keigo’s from his early years of being a hero. You simply moved in with him, adding yourself to his space. This time, you were making it together. 

 “What do you think of this one?” You turned to Keigo, next to you. Both of you laid on top of a fairly nice mattress, the store relatively empty aside from the employees and the two of you.

“I think it's good, it’s not too soft,” Keigo turned and smiled at you, speaking from behind his mask. 

You couldn’t help sitting up, tugging the cloth mask just a bit lower to drop a sweet kiss on the side of his mouth, “Get out the credit card then, babe.”

 The condo was sorted within a few weeks, full of furniture and slowly being decorated. 

You also had the opportunity to christen the mattress, if you will.

...

How long had it been since you and Keigo had laid together like this? 

Your bodies were sticky with sweat and cum, several rounds having passed throughout the night. Your new mattress was going to need a fresh change of sheets after this.

“Hey, angel, come over here,” Keigo tugged you closer to him, laying your head on his chest. You smiled softly, pressing closer. You missed it, truly, the warmth of his body and the feeling of his skin on your own like this.

“Alright, check-in,” Keigo pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel great,” You hummed, throwing a leg over his waist. “I can honestly keep going.”

“Should you?” Keigo raised an eyebrow and chuckled, nudging a knee between your legs. You flinched, knowing how sore you’d be in the morning already. 

Though your body had recovered somewhat, you weren’t fully back to where you were before Keigo’s injury. You didn’t mind, though. Keigo had taken to doting on you a bit more than he used to. 

You shrugged and Keigo just chuckled, bringing you ever-closer. 

“Are you okay?” You straddled Keigo’s hips, cocking your head to one side. 

Keigo was silent for a moment, stormy almost. He bit his lip, tracing hands and eyes over your figure, finally landing on your face. His softened hands cupped your jaw. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” His thumb rubbed over your lips. There’s something so melancholic about him. “I just missed you.”

You knew exactly what he meant by ‘miss’.

 It was a feeling beyond sex, but rather intimacy. Sure, Keigo had been balls deep in you for the first time in months and that was ecstasy you wouldn’t trade the world for. But, this feeling Keigo regarded was different.

It had been so long since the two of you had been so softened around each other.

Guards, after months of being raised high, had begun to fall.

  Thank God.

 Your eyes watered as you lowered your face to his, ghosting your lips over his, “I missed you too, Kei’. I missed you so, so much.”

 How many minutes of hell had your both endured? And how many were there still to go? Thoughts of fear and anguish constantly swirled within the two of you for so long. They certainly hadn’t stopped, but they were lessening. Therapy helped. Being in the new place with a fresh start did wonders for the two you. Keigo’s passion for cooking continued to grow and you had taken up a few new hobbies of your own. 

It was the mundane, you supposed, that was the stitching for broken relationships. The real healing of proverbial flesh and bone was intimacy, vulnerability, and love.

“Hey, Kei’,” You kissed him breathless, once, twice, three times. “I love you, you know? A lot.”

“Yeah?” Keigo giggled, something high and light that he wouldn’t have released a year ago. “I love you too. So much.”

 The night continued in tender fucking, the two of you visibly watching wounds begin to grow smaller and scar, no more fire, and no more forced stitchings. 

Salvation came from time and small things, you supposed, half-asleep and nestled neck to Keigo, feeling better than you had in a long time.  

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

     You supposed, some time later, that karma gave the two of you a small gift. In the eyes of all things, it must’ve been just a spec, but God, it was something. 

     ...

They had come back over a year and half from when you had tried to heal Keigo. 

The attempt wasn’t forgotten, no, but it certainly wasn’t at the forefront of your minds like it used to be. Except the one morning that Keigo got up before you, sleepily yawning his way to the bathroom.

You heard his sharp gasp, loud exclamations in your half asleep state.

“Babe?” Your voice hoarse with sleep, you spoke. “You okay?”

Keigo jumped onto the bed, straddling over you and the comforter. 

“(Y/N)!” Oh, his eyes were wet. Soft, gooey tears were streaming down his face as he shakily grabbed your wrists. He pressed them to the scars of his back.

Your eyes went wide as your hands brushed against small, soft feathers. 

“Keigo!” You shouted, sitting up, urging him to turn around so you could take a better look. 

Keigo trembled as he bared his back to you. 

Your breath caught as your hands trailed down his marred flesh.

The scars, old and worn now, had faded a great deal. The charred plain calmed with time, perhaps by your own touch and very much so by Keigo’s own cells and flesh.

But, in the center of his back, where the roots of his wings once were, was something growing anew.

Small, burgundy feathers were growing from spindly looking, down-covered bones and skin.

They were small, nothing like his old wings. More aged, with their darker color. The feathers felt softer as you ran your hands along the largest, no bigger than your hand from wrist to tip.

Keigo shuddered.

“Do... Do they feel like they used to?” You asked, transfixed.

Keigo shakily shook his head, “N-no, they feel less sensitive I think. They feel different.”

...

 As Keigo had healed and changed, so had his body.

His wings never grew to their own old size and power, not even close. They couldn’t support his own body weight, so Keigo never flew again. But, the feathers, wine-colored and almost bruised looking, could be sent to do small tasks, much like his old ones.  

At first, it seemed cruel. After so long and so much, his wings grew back but in such a decrepit form. For days, the two of you waited and waited to see what the final form of his regrowth would be. In the end, at their best, they stretched out to about the span of Keigo’s arms. The feathers weren’t symmetrical either, even at their peak regrowth. Some grew in fluffy and rounded, while others were jagged, sticking out awkwardly from the rest of his form. 

Over time, the inherent disappointment and despondence turned into appreciation.

Because they had come back, it just took time. 

...

With enough time, Keigo wore them proudly, no matter how oddly they stuck out from his marred skin. Keigo’s body was still too damaged to do hero work proper, but he still was kept around.

At the end of the day, the feathers colored like dried blood represented something far larger. If the completely destroyed number two hero could come back to even a fraction of his former, angelic glory, that was something, right?

It was like in the eyes of all things, you were both awarded a physical manifestation of healing. The gnarly wings that grew from Keigo’s body may have been off-putting to some, but to the two of you, it was a testament to it all.

It just took time. 

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (V)

Series Masterlist

Bucky treats you to a day out. 

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo​ 2021. Word count: 1625. Square filled: “Lucky (Clint’s dog)”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Police. Sad child.

A/N: This is so late and I am so sorry. Let me know what you think! And massive thank you’s to anyone who is still reading this disaster.

Morning brings a new perspective, a new ease in the way Bucky moves around Ana. He pretends he doesn’t know that you witnessed the way they bonded last night, and for that benefit you don’t bring it up. It’s discussed and laid to rest with the intelligent smile you give him, one that he lets dissolve through his sternum and curl around his heart. Tendrils of soft hope, wisps of quiet connection, strengthening the friendship you’ve established and glinting with promise of something more.

Something more might have to wait, but Bucky thinks you’ve made it clear that it is there, on the horizon, awaiting you both. A future, one that, on his part, also involves the little soul that sits on top of the kitchen island, swinging her legs into the cabinets. Children are early risers, and so are superheroes, but today, on this cool morning, Anastasia has them beat.

So, it’s just the three of you. Bucky, and Anastasia, and you. You’re cutting up fruit and washing berries for the pancakes he’s making while you also remotely monitor the tea. A minty brew, warm, topped with honey and lemon, sharp enough to wake lingering drowsiness while still soothing, syrup-soft. You know your stuff, and Bucky’s glad to have a change of pace after a fast week of too much too strong too sweet coffee, even if he chooses to have it that way.

This particular change of pace would give him whiplash if not for the fact that he got a good night’s sleep, Anastasia’s nightmares notwithstanding. It has strengthened his resolve to find her a child psychologist, somebody who can help her better than he can, once this ordeal with Tobias Zola is over and they are all safe.

He needs to keep her safe. It was her mother’s – no, her final caretaker’s – last wish and request, and now that they are tied by blood, it has become his. She really looks so much like him. Her hair hasn’t developed the same brown yet, it’s still a shade lighter, with hints of golden for the lesser age, the summer sun bleaching that has yet to pass. It’s curly like his never was, likely an affectation of whatever female contribution is in her genetics.

Her genetics. Bucky shakes his head at the frying pan. He doesn’t want to sound like one of the scientists that put her into this situation, into this cruel, cruel world.

A clearing of your throat breaks him out of the thought bubble, and he flips the last pancake out of the pan and onto a plate, much to Anastasia’s delight. The ensuing giggle is the closest thing he’s heard to laughter from the kid. That’s not good. Children need laughter. He makes himself, and Ana, a silent promise to be more uplifting.

“Do you think we could leave the Compound, today?” You ask, out of nowhere, as you place the assorted fruit on the table. Ana, whose hands is halfway to the strawberries, stops as she waits on Bucky’s answer. Clearly, this is something she wants, too. Who is he to deny them?

“Sure. Fury might want us to take some security measures, but we should be fine.”

-----

That’s how they wind up at an ice cream parlor by 10 am, after the security has been cleared with Fury and Sam, and the only addition to their little team is Lucky, a dog apparently shared by Clint and his protégé in the city, one Kate Bishop. They’ve been told that while not a trained security dog, Lucky has sensors that will let Kate know if they’re in danger, and she can provide and send further backup. The rest of the Avengers are busy with tracking down leads to Zola.

Bucky knows he can protect you and Ana just fine, should need be, and isn’t worried about the fact that the only bodyguard they’ve been provided with is canine. Ana has bonded with the dog and walks with one hand in the fur by its shoulder and the other in his own hand, her eyes flitting between the sights of the city and her companions. Her caretakers. Her guardians.

The ice cream place is a little business that another one of Steve’s children is working at on weekends. is a head shorter than Bucky, and terrifies the living wits out of him. She’s one hell of a people watcher, she has a sweet tooth and a thing for Jane Austen, and the world is lucky her foremost interest is in dessert making and not something far more nefarious, like say, espionage.

She greets Bucky at the door with a hug and shakes both your and Ana’s hands, and lets you all sit outside so you can be with Lucky. The rusty fall sun makes Lucky’s fur shine like spun gold and light Ana up in hues of ruby and topaz, and you turn your face to the light and sigh.

For a moment, the world is quiet. For a moment, the scent of sugar crystallizes on his face like the sensation of rightness does. And when it ends, it’s not with a crash landing. It’s a gentle reorientation. You open your eyes, look at him with immeasurable affection. Ana pets Lucky. Vivien says, “Let me know when you’re ready to order, Uncle Bucky,” and puts a menu on the table.

You decide on a mango ice cream shake, Bucky wants an Oreo sundae, and Ana, of course, demands the largest dish on the menu, the one whose picture is emblazoned across a good quarter of the laminated card. A massive ice cream and berry split.

When your order arrives, Anastasia laughs for the second time. Bucky thinks he should say something, make a joke, conversation, but in this moment, nothing else could feel so forced. He’s a man of few words and many services. That’s how he chooses to love, and Ana can see that. You can see that.

It's why you nod affirmingly when he meets your eyes over Ana’s mountain of ice cream. You carry entire sentences in your glances, words of silent confidence, the fuel he is feeding on right now.

-----

Ana is happy. The world, if for a few hours, is right. He knows it cannot last, even now, walking back to the car after a morning and afternoon of joy, arms laden down with bags of new things, treats he never had but can now provide. Despite the resignation that has started to weigh on him, he reminds himself: his daughter has a home. She will be safe, and he will take care of her, no matter what it takes.

-----

The car ride back is louder than he anticipated. You give the music a go, playing something by Raveena, a sweet voice he likes but that Ana talks over, making quite the chaotic symphony that he likes even more. Lucky contributes the occasional bright bark that makes Ana laugh, pausing her incessant chatter, if momentarily.

Mostly, she talks about what she saw, the things she has now started to process, asks questions about the stores she did not previously have the luxury to, presumably because her previous guardian didn’t have the means, and besides, they were on the run.

He’s grateful to her. Irene. Before he was confused but now it is obvious: Ana is his daughter, and he wants her as much as any other parent does their child, even if the way she was thrown into her life was unconventional, to say the least.

Looking at her in the rearview mirror as she twists in her seat to reach Lucky in the back, he knows he will move heaven and earth to remove the threats in her path. It makes him dangerous. It makes him a father.

“You okay?” You ask, following his gaze, and Bucky smiles, eyes returning to the road.

“Never better.”

Your hand finds his where it takes a break from the steering wheel to rest on his knee. He twists your joined hands until he can hold yours. Squeezes it, as if to say, thank you. As if to say, we’ll all be okay.

-----

Turns out, he’s wrong, and this is why you should never rely on routines. Promises are made to be broken. When they get back, the NYPD is waiting, and not to update them on the case. He sees the waiting handcuffs, and he knows you do, too.

You make the right move, trying to usher Ana out of the room with some excuse or other, but it’s too late. Her instincts have latched onto the fact that something is very, very wrong.

The DA says, “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re under arrest as a suspect in the murder of Irene Orlov,” and Ana screams, and screams, and screams.

Bucky tries not to close his eyes, knows it’s too late to put his hands over his ears as cuffs close around his wrists. Besides, he needs to show that he understands the charges, and yes, they’re reading him his Miranda rights, and yes, he understands.

He’s innocent. And his team will prove it. But it’s no use arguing with these people, so he goes silently, even as he hears Sam, Steve and Nat going at it with the police chief in the dull background of Ana’s roar. It’s no use. The police wouldn’t be here without reason, and they’ll let him go when his team finds them reason to.

Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself. It has to. Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t.

Bucky sees you, tear-sodden and holding onto a distraught Ana, in the reflection of the glass doors before they slide open.

[p4lparker]

Calming Touch, Racing Hearts

You could feel his calm breathing, his chest rising and falling smoothly as he slept soundly. You on the other hand couldn’t get your mind to stop racing- you’d panicked, when it came down to it you were scared. Not of him- or the act, just what it might result in; over the past few days, you couldn’t see how this situation could possibly resolve without one or more of the party being hurt. You cared for both of your boys, deeply. And those feelings had only been more cemented. They were two sides of the same coin.

JJ like a wildfire, that spread through your body like a current of electricity. He was rash, and full of bravado; but that was only to cover the pain he was in, he relied on you and John B for more than friendship. He was beautiful and broken. But he was caring and sweet, loyal to a fault. He was carved by the gods- his eyes the bluest thing you’d seen since the ocean. His smile could light up the darkest of rooms. And he would protect you and John B regardless of the cost to himself. He made you feel safe and loved, in the small things he would do for you; like buying himself Reese’s and then letting you devour them instead as he knew they were your favourites, like when he carried an extra hoodie because you would always get cold and would never bring one yourself, like when he constantly touches you in some way or other whether it’s a hand twirling the ends of your hair or fingers tracing patterns on any exposed skin. You bit your lip as you felt John B pull you closer in his sleep, and the guilt that washed over you felt almost unbearable.

And then there was the boy holding you close to him now. John B was the calm before the storm- where JJ was rash and impulsive, John B was cool and collected. He was just as beautiful as JJ- dark gaze always betraying his emotions, they were always displayed so clearly for all to see. John B was the light to JJ’s dark. He made you feel calm like waves lapping at the shore, being with John B felt like coming home after an adventure. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and was always tried to what he felt- letting his heart lead him and get him into trouble more times than not. John B was gentle- fingers ghosting over your skin, and he had an obsession with your hands. His fingers playing with the tips of your own or stroking the delicate skin of your wrist.

Your mind was a blur, thoughts about both boys were vying for your attention and your heart. But neither was winning out- whenever you thought about your future all you could see was you and your boys. If you imagined going on a date with one of them- a day dream about the other would pop into your head. And thinking about these boys were driving you to despair. You felt a deep sigh leave you lips, your phone buzzing and chiming beside you- swiping on the screen you saw the weather update, this storm was the tip of the ice berg, there was more to come, much more. You brushed your hair from your face and turned to look at the sleeping boy beneath you, raising a hand an stroking along his cheek softly, watching as his lips quirked into a gentle smile before his eyes opened and his blurry gaze was settled on you.

“Hey you… Guess I fell asleep…”He whispered, his voice rough form sleep, he just looked so soft. Hair even more of a mess than usual, hazel eyes unfocused and droopy and the content smile still tugging at his soft lips. His eyes gazed up at you, and it felt like he as trying to read your mind. “You didn’t sleep though…” He murmured, bushy brows furrowing as he lifted a hand and let his thumb smooth across the frown lines on your forehead and between your own brows. You shook your head and smiled slightly.

“How’d you guess?” You asked, letting your finger tap against his throat in time to the steady beating of his heart and pulse. You watched as his expressive eyes widened slightly and he cleared his throat.

“You always look really cute when you just wake up… you get all soft and pouty… But now you’re all frowny..” He muttered, his own brows slanting downwards to match your own. You raised you brows and painted a smile on your face- before pushing yourself up and off him, and reaching blindly for clothes that were still scattered around the pair of you. Tugging on articles of clothing haphazardly you tossed a shirt and some shorts to him as he stayed laying on his back watching you dress. The clothing landing on his face and he let out an ‘oof ‘ as they landed in a pile. You moved the fabric from his eyes and showed him the weather update.

“We should be getting back to your place.. it’ll need storm proofing..” You stated and continued to shimmy clothes onto your cold body. You could feel the tension settling within your body once more. And you didn’t want to let John B in on your inner monologue- so rushing him to get redressed and hide his tempting body from your greedy eyes. He got dressed- though his gaze never faltered from you, even when you both were situated in the seats up front and he was manoeuvring the Twinkie through the rainy streets; the storm having let up slightly, the thunder and lightning having stopped a short while ago, and the darkness of the evening drawing in. The wet road seemed to stretch on before you for eternity, and the journey to the chateau seemed to take forever and a day- your leg was bouncing as you tried to rid yourself of the nervous energy your body seemed to be storing; you were coming to the realisation that you needed some advice, and that meant Kie. You wondered whether you should reveal all to her or try and keep her mostly in the dark- you swiped and tapped at the screen of your phone- letting Kie know you were on your way to her, now all you needed to do was make a get-away from John B, you wracked your brain as he pulled onto the dirt track drive in front of the chateau. You followed him in to the messy building, stepping over pizza boxes and empty beer cans and bottles. You watched as he paced around slightly, something bothering him- from the frown marring his handsome face to the darkening of his eyes, and the way his hand carded through his curls- it was obvious he had something on his mind, and he was trying to find the words to broach the subject.

“Hey, are we okay?” He blurted, his other hand which wasn’t caught in his curls catching on your wrist and tugging you to him. You nodded and tried to paint a convincing smile on your face. His frown only deepened.

“Look, if its about what happened in the van… It’s fine. Like me and Jay said; this goes at your pace.. what you say goes..” John B murmured as he tugged you closer and let go of his hair before wrapping you up in his arms; face burying in your hair as he dropped a kiss to the crown of your head. You cuddled closer to him and breathed him in, he chuckled lightly- you knew he was right, but you felt almost guilty. You were the one who’d asked him for this, and then suddenly you didn’t want it. You head was a mess as he let you go.

“I’m going to grab a shower… and you are more than welcome to join, like Kie says we need to preserve the planet.. so we should conserve water and all..” He grinned and even gave you a cheeky wink as he stepped backwards in the direction of the bathroom, his fingers trailing down your arm until they were only touching the tips of your own as he stepped further away. You laughed, the joy bubbling in your belly as you pushed him away from you. He scoffed and held a hand to his chest in mock hurt, before shrugging and making his way to the bathroom. You waited until you could hear the shower running before booking it from the chateau and into the darkness. You didn’t hear him calling your name- he’d wandered into the main room and expected to see you on the pull out, but he was on his own, his apology falling into the loneliness of the chateau.

Your feet leading you to the Carrera’s place on auto-pilot, your mind focused on how the next conversation was going to go between you and Kie. You were still undecided as to whether or not you should admit to Pogue- on-Pogue-on-Pogue macking. You clambered up the handy tree outside her window and crawled through the open window, Kie waiting for you sat crossed legged on her bed. Mirroring her- you sat facing her and with one look at your face, she quirked one of her brows at you and waved a hand gesturing for you vent- and with that one motion, it all flooded from you like a river bursting its dam, words flying from your lips so quickly Kie’s head shook and her eyes widened as she tried to keep up.

“I’m doing something and I’m not sure it’s a good idea anymore. But I’m not sure I want to stop, but if I don’t someone could end up hurt..” You stated, hands waving in front of you as you spoke. “I’ve been hooking up.. or rather learning how to hook up with someone, or well two someone’s and I think I have feelings for them both and it’s a mess. But I don’t really want to stop… But then I kinda did today cause when it came time to actually hook upI freaked and told him to stop..”

“Did he? Stop?” She interrupted her hands clasping onto your own, and you froze- brows furrowing. But nodded.

“Of course he did.. its in the rules; at my pace. But I really want to have sex with him and the other guy… but I dunno, I guess I’m scared. Cause I don’t want to get hurt and I can’t bear to think about not having either one of them in my life if it works out with one of them and not the other.. I couldn’t lose either of them ever…” You rambled, barely breathing as the words spewed forth and Kie took them all in- a small smirk resting on her pretty face.

“So how long have you been fucking around with Jay and John B?” she asked, glancing at her nails, pretending to not be bothered. But you gasped, and tried to cover it with a cough.

“What makes you think its them?” You tried tom laugh it off, but the laugh came out nervously, and you may as well be carrying a sign telling her. She rolled her eyes and laughed.

“How long Y/N?” She asked again, not playing along with your bullshit. You sighed and tugged at your head, she shook her head and pulled you around like a rag doll until you sat with your back to her and he was able to get her hands in your hair and begin to braid it- her fingers twisting and turning your hair soothing you.

“Not long… but they’re them. And I can’t stop myself falling under their spell when they make me feel so good. And they’re treating me so well, they go at my pace and when I’m with them- it sounds cheesy, but I feel complete… But I don’t want to hurry anyone. I mean its not like if things work out we can all be together- and I can’t imagine the rest of my life without them in it…” You whispered out, Kie’s fingers tucking strand after strand of your hair around, seemingly being the key to ease you enough to stop your mouth running at the same speed as your mind.

“Who says you can’t? Have you spoken to them about this? Have you even asked them about it?” She asked you, her voice soft in your ear as she continued to braid.

“You’re right… They might not even be interested in me. Like they could just be doing this to help out a friend… so the only person who could get hurt is me… well fuck…” you whined the last part and shook your head, until Kie gave your tresses a sharp tug and tisked.

“Not what I meant, its obvious those boys would literally die for you. I don’t know when it happened- but I’m pretty sure they both love you or are even in love with you..” she stated matter-of-factly. “I meant who says you can’t be with both of them? Nothing has to change between you guys… I mean you’re practically together with them as it is!” She exclaimed, it was you turn to scoff at her- and she gripped your shoulders, making you turn to look at her over your shoulder.

You stayed silent and mulled over her words; and even you couldn’t deny there was some truth ringing through them, when all of this started, it had never been awkward as you imagined it could be, and the euphoria you felt when you were with them was undeniable. You let your mind wander; the boys treated you with the utmost respect. Each showing they cared in their own way. Your heart pattered unevenly as you imagined your life with them both, and maybe Kie had a point, maybe it wouldn’t be all that different to how things were currently? As you were lost in your own mind, Kie had finished twisting your hair into two braids and was tying them off with hair ties. You breathed in deeply, and nodded to yourself.

“So how come I stopped him? Like what if I’m not ready?” you whispered out, the Carrera girl smiled and tugged on one of your braids.

“You’re ready, when you’re ready. It’s up to you and you said yourself he respected that when you asked him to stop… and its in your rules. You set the pace remember?” Kie stated holding your hand in her own and squeezing gently. You bit your lip and smiled at her, before dropping a kiss to her cheek and thanking her as you made your way back out of her window and into the heavy rain. You’d made up your mind, you wanted John B and JJ. And you needed to show them that, you would start with John B. So you made your way back to the chateau- the rain soon soaking you as your walk-jog to his place seemed to last a lifetime. Streets passing in a blur as the rain trickled into your eyes. When you finally made your way to the chateau, you felt like you were in a cheesy romcom scene; running to admit your love for the main character- slowing your pace even more and letting the rain truly soak you, you tried the shake the cliché from yourself as you entered the ramshackle home- no knocking necessary as the door was never locked to any of you, this place was as much your home as his. And there he was sprawled on the pull out, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as the tv played in the background, beer abandoned on the floor beside him and a half eaten pizza accompanying it. When you barged through the door, he shot up- eyes wide as he took in your drenched form.

“Y/N.. what the..?” he started as you took steps towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your soggy self against him as your lips found his. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was passionate- it had that familiar languid pace which as John B entirely. His hands found their way to your cheeks and he cradled your face between them, his plush lips caressing your own, as his breathing became more laboured as the kiss continued until he could take it no longer and reluctantly pulled away from your lips- your lips soon missing the pressure of his and went searching for them.

“Not that I’m complaining, like at all, but what the hell are you doing coming here in this weather?” he whispered, not trusting his voice just yet- as his forehead rest against your own. His breath fanning across your face, as you panted lightly.

“I needed to see you. I ditched you and ran away from you like a little bitch cause I was scared… But I’m not scared anymore and I want you.. I want you to teach me my next lesson!” You stated softly, surging forwards and meeting his lips with your own once more. Your tongue traced over his bottom lip seeking entrance- and that was when he pulled away again, making you sigh in frustration.

“Are you sure?” He asked, eyes searching your own as he held your face delicately between his large hands. You rolled your eyes but smiled at the same time.

“At my pace right? Well this is me setting the pace… so take me to your bedroom and teach me Routledge…” You whispered, staring into his dark gaze as his eyes widened slightly- his mouth dropping open slightly.

“Yes Ma’am…” He murmured against your lips as his hands dropped from your face to grip your own and lead you through the house- he stumbled slightly every couple of steps as he was not only walking backwards but also connected to your lips and with his eyes closed, it was a minor miracle you both made it to his room without serious injury- instead the journey was filled with giggles muffled by kisses. Once in his room, his kisses became more- tongues tangling and teeth nipping, bottom lips were sucked and breathing began to race as fast the hearts beating within your chests. Your hands wandered him; tracing over the muscles of his shoulders, his biceps, his chest- the pounding of his heart underneath your palm, his abs- stomach tensing and twitching at the ticklish contact before settling on his waist and pulling him closer- so the entirety of your soaked front was pressed against his shirtless one. Goose bumps raising on expanse of you both. His lips met the corner of yours before venturing downwards and meeting the sensitive flesh of your neck- leaving wet kisses, his tongue flicking out before his teeth nibbled into the skin making sure to leave a faint ache there as a mark was delivered. He let his hands drift to your hips and tugged on the drenched and borrowed t-shirt you were wearing- he struggled to pull it up your body, the sopping material clinging to every part of you- it getting stuck on your head and made the pair of you split from each other as you worked in tandem to rid you of the shirt. You both laughed victoriously as the offensive fabric was tossed carelessly across the room as far away from you as possible. John B brushed some of the baby hairs- which had fallen loose from your braids during the struggle- before his fingers dug their way through the tangled tresses and pulled your lips needily against his own. He began to move you backwards until the back of your knees met the soft edge od his bed- he leaned into you until you tumbled back, him following and landing atop you.

Your kisses travelled along his pouty lips and chiselled jaw to his tanned neck, gentle and tickling kisses being left there. His fingers traced along the edge of the bra covering you from him, tips dipping below a cup and teasing your already hardened nipples- smoothing over it before flicking at it- causing it to harden more, his clothed hips thrusting against you own as the needy whine left your throat. His finger traced lower the calloused pads tickling against your stomach making giggles erupt from you and vibrate against him. his hand cupping and rubbing against you clothed core- leaving you wondering whether your panties were wet from the rain or the arousal coursing through you. His deft fingers found the button and the zipper on your shorts- undoing them both and moving to wriggle the sodden material down your hips and thighs before being removed from you entirely. One of his skilled hands found its way to your cloth covered core and began teasing you through the material as his lips claimed your own once more. His fingers tracing up and down you still covered slit- moving to rub figure eights onto you clothed clit- eliciting the most delicious moan he’d ever heard from you, continuing their ministrations the tips of his other fingers tugged the saturated material to the side before they ventured within your drenched folds. At the contact a high pitched whine echoed around you. His lips left yours to nip at your chest, chin nudging the cup of your bra out of his way as his plush lips captured your hardened peak- laving it with attention, his hand left your core the slide behind you and undo the irritating fabric, pulling it from your body and taking his time to marvel at you.

His fingers swiftly returned to your hips, tugging on the band of your underwear and pulling them too from your body, leaving you completely bare before him- making you skin heat in a flush that made him groan and bury his head in your neck marking up your pretty skin. Trailing his lips further down until they met the skin just under your breast- he let his attentions focus there as he left a more prominent mark, which wouldn’t be easily hidden in your usual summer attire and activities. His fingers moved between your slick folds, doing the most sinful of things- building you up, winding the coil deep within you belly tighter and tighter- your release so close, but just out of reach making you whine out frustratedly. John B chuckled huskily as his lips found yours again, his tongue working it’s way in to your mouth once more, teasing yours in a similar fashion to that of his fingers. And as he plunged his middle and ring finger within your slick entrance and began pumping with purpose you felt yourself teeter over the edge and the knot within you snapped with a high pitched keen- which was muffled by his pouty lips. his fingers pumped within you lazily- coaxing you through your high, as you hand began to wander down the expanse of him once more. One palm grazing against the prominent bulge within the confines of his shorts- you rubbed against him as he huffed out air and moaned in your ear- as his head fell to your shoulder. His reaction to your hands movements spurring you to unbutton and unzip him; before reaching into the tight fabric and meeting the soft flesh beneath, pulling a gasp from you at his lack of underwear. He pulled your hand from him, before kissing you swiftly on the lips once more before moving himself from you and tugging his shorts from his body- leaving him bare before your greedy gaze. He sprang free- the russet tip leaking, the slit glistening in the low lighting of the dark room- it was silent, barring your panting breaths and pounding hearts. You reached a hand towards him once more, but his hands clasped onto your wrists before you could make contact.

“Are you sure? We can stop now if you like…” He asked, dark gaze locked on yours- eyes searching for a response, you just smiled and nodded your head before cradling his chin and pulling his kiss swollen lips towards your own in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he puffed out the breath he had been holding and turned to his bedside table, delving a hand within and retrieving the small foil packet. He held it up for you to see, and you reached forward and took it from his hand- holding it within your sweaty one. You ripped the packaging open and proceeded to pull the protection from its confines, before manoeuvring it to roll onto his awaiting member, rolling down his length and pumping him a couple of times before kissing his lips gently once more. you then moved to lay back on the bead- head resting against the pillows that smelled of him, your heart racing with anticipation as his fingers delved within you once more- gathering some of your slick and coating himself with it, letting his fingers linger and tease you for a short time before sliding himself up and ontop of you, his hips nestling between your spread legs, his weight being supported by one of his strong arms beside your head as the other hand laved your most intimate area with attention- his lips seeking your own in a searing kiss as he began to push into you. You hissed at the feeling, it wasn’t necessarily painful, but it was kind of uncomfortable- it was a strange feeling to be connected with him, as you felt full almost complete as he pushed further into you. His lips leaving your to pepper soft kisses around your face and neck, before he buried his head in the crook of your neck as he bottomed out within. He fought the urge to begin moving before you were ready, waiting for you to tilt your hips to urge him on. And once he had that confirmation, he pulled back agonisingly slowly before pushing back in at the same pace. He slid within you easily, your slick coating him, and your thighs as he moved at a languid pace.

Your moan loud in his ear as you became accustomed to surrounding him in the most intimate of ways, urging him to move faster- his hips surging forwards and retreating at a quicker pace as his own moans flooded the room. A giggle escaping you as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure and dig your nails into the tan flesh of his back, leaving a white trail as you dragged them down before they met the curve of his ass. Your hands resting there and then grabbing a cheek in each hand and pushing him closer to you. John B got the message and whined out as his hips began a punishing rhythm, his hips slapping against your own- skin meeting skin and lips meeting lips as he climbed closer to his peak. He was reaching his end, but he knew you were nowhere near, and so he tried to hold himself back, but the warm, welcoming tightness encompassing him was too much, his rhythm faltered and his hips moved erratically as he reached the peak.

“Y/N..”was groaned sinfully in your ear as he emptied into the protection. You stroked your hands down his back and hair as he calmed from the high. His spent body collapsing atop your own. His weight a comfort as your calming touch tried to ease your racing hearts. All too soon he was sliding himself from you with a sickening squelching sound, he slide down your body and you leaned yourself up onto your elbows curiously as you watched him bury his head between your thighs, and as his tongue met your sensitive and slick flesh a gasp left your kiss-swollen lips. He licked along your lower lips. He then dove in- tongue tasting you- licking and caressing you the way his lips had done elsewhere. Your breathing becoming laboured at the sensations on your already stimulated core. He focused lips on your sensitive nub, lips closing around it and suckling gently making you whine. His lips and tongue worked you as if telling your core the most salacious secrets, you were reaching your end. The familiar tightening in your belly becoming almost too much to bear as your legs went numb, a truly sinful noise leaving your delicate lips- almost had him hardening at the sound. He let his tongue and lips clean you of your juices before his head reappeared from the depths of your thighs. His plush lips and chin glistening with the evidence of your orgasm. He wiped at his chin with he back of his hand- but left the slick on his lips as he met yours in a sordid kiss; letting you taste yourself on him, to him you were the sweetest nectar, and he wanted to share it with you. As your lazy kisses became pecks- he pushed himself away from you, moving around the room, he discarded of the used condom in the small trash bin near the door- before leaving the room, and as you watched his back move away from you. A panic settled within your chest- as your mind replayed the image of him walking away from you in your minds eye, until his smiling face re-entered the bedroom his hands holding a washcloth, which he used to clean you sensitive core properly. Before tossing it away into some unknown corner of the room- he then jumped onto the bouncy bed beside you and laid back. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders he tugged you to lay atop him, your ear pressed to his chest. And he kissed you gently; your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your nose, your jaw and then finally your lips. the kiss was soft- but was full of the emotions John B was bursting to tell you, but couldn’t, not yet. So for now the gentle kiss sufficed, as the two of your succumbed to a peaceful sleep.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 32

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: drunkness, nightmares.

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Sharon? 

There she stood, in all her elegant and precise posture dignified of someone who had been trained to be a spy. Y/N had spoken to Sharon before yet it had been brief so all she knew about her was what she had learned from the media and what Bucky had told her. Yet, Bucky wasn’t one to share much about his life as a Winter Soldier or an Avenger. Despite all this mystery surrounding the woman standing in the kitchen, she trusted her. She was Bucky’s friend and Steve’s girlfriend, a decorated scholar and agent. If she wanted to hurt her the chance was very, very low. Besides, she doubted Bucky would’ve just gone around giving people his address. He doesn’t even tell anyone but the barista his coffee order, not that it is too hard to guess.

    - Bucky asked me to look after you while he’s gone. - she said before Y/N could even question her. - He said you’d feel more comfortable with a woman watching over you.

    - He really left, uh? - Y/N knew he had left, after all his dog tags were hanging from her closed fist, but her more optimistic self, the more happy look which wanted to believe he was gonna be told this was mistake and he could return to the normal life he had paid by with blood, sweat and tears.

    - Do you wanna go for breakfast? There’s a nice spot just a few blocks away from here. - she tried to distract her, kind smile forming. - I always thought you and me should get to know each other. You know, Steve and Bucky are like brothers so we’ll see each other a lot. 

     - Yeah, I hum ... I just need to get dressed. - Y/N wanted to be her happy, cheery self and she knew Sharon was only trying to make her feel better but all she could think about was Bucky and if he was safe.

She knew she was no super soldier, no super spy, not a witch or an agent but she just wanted to help him. She was already helpless in her own life, merely following along as others guided her, too afraid to step too much out of line in fear of losing what she had worked for. After all, many people wanted what she had, many people wanted a contract with a household agency thus she had to be compliant. She had to step on the breaks before she even turned the key. However, if there was something she had agency on it was her relationships and she wanted to help him. God, she wished to never see that look, the look he gave her that morning after that call. It was pure sorrow mixed with anger and she wondered how long he’d felt that way. She wondered if anyone had tried to help him rather than weaponise him. It was not her choice to decide what Bucky wanted to do with his life, it was not her right to demand him explain her demons to her but it was her choice and her pleasure to be by his side and right now she wanted to be by his side. Even if her mother had raised her not to rely on a man. It wasn’t relying on him, it wasn’t being only completed when a man was around, it wasn’t her feeling incomplete whenever he was around. No. It was none of that. It was merely wanting to hold the hand of someone who had for the longest time not had anyone to hold his hand. It was loving someone so much, she’d be okay with holding his burden with him even if he didn’t want to. It was merely loving someone, darkness and light, and she loved him. 

Her hands gripped the sink of the bathroom, eyes gazing onto the mirror in front of her and as such her own face. She watched every line, every corner, contour and shadow of her face, the dog tags softly dangling around from her neck, the only part of him she had near her. Y/N splashed cold water against her face, trying to let her own optimism flow into what was now a negative outcome. She stepped outside of the bedroom, a soft smile drawn on her features.

   - Should we go? - Sharon suggested, grabbing her coat which was laying over the couch. - It will make you feel better, Y/N. 

   - Yeah, I’m just ...

   - He’s one of the best operatives in the field. - Sharon interrupted her. - He will be fine, I promise you. 

   - You can’t promise me that. - she said as she took her own jacket from the hooks on the wall.

   -  I’ve seen him fight before, Y/N. I’ve been where you are, it’s shit but ... you gotta trust someone who’s strong enough to carelessly break a brick, will be fine. 

Sharon meant well, she knew she did and she was glad she was there but Y/N felt nothing but completely numb to what was happening around her. It seems as he had left with her heart and now she was longing his and hers didn’t get broken in the middle of HYDRA’s crossfire. She didn’t know much about HYDRA or even the Winter Soldier, her parents had shielded her and her siblings from the bad of the world and while she had seen Washington in the TV and remembered when Captain America had been regarded as a traitor, she had never been explained much about HYDRA and all that was out in the internet was glossed over with a paint coat of big, bad monster. Funny how big, bad monsters don’t look like monsters at all. She’d not even been in the country when the first modern Winter Soldier attacks had occurred and she was younger, much more naive. What she could remember was circled with rumours of politicians then blaming every single event on the soldier, turning him into a folklore-like creature but he was not folklore, he really existed. Conscious or not conscious, he existed. She didn’t know how Bucky felt about it, he’d never tell her but what she knew was that he drew a line between who he had been and who he was now, and he hated to cross that line.

The harsh sound of the coffee steamer from the coffee machine took her from her own head. The coffee shop itself was mostly empty, highly due to it being later in the morning and all she wanted to do was return to her bedroom and stay there until she had to go for her photoshoot. However, the waitress was already taking their orders which meant she had to at least stay here until the two of them had eaten whatever Sharon had prepared. 

   - How do you do it? - Y/N blurted out, clearly losing any control over her mind to mouth filter. - The missions ... I mean, Steve must be going on them all the time. 

   - Well, whenever I don’t go ... it’s hell. - she smiled tightly. - One thing is going on a mission yourself, the other one is someone who you love going. And for what? Crocked politicians? 

   - I get a feeling you’re not a big fan of the government. 

   - You’d be right. So, what’s the schedule for today? Bucky didn’t really explain what your job entails.

   - There’s a photoshoot today at 3, then it’s free days until Monday where I have to go on set to film the last scenes. 

    - Photoshoot? Sounds fun. 

    - The Virgin Bride for Vogue.

    - Oh ... - she agent scrunched up her face. - Not so fun.

    - They’re doing an issue on the types of brides. You know ... because type casting not only occurs in Hollywood, it occurs in life too. You got your bridezellas, your over 30 brides, your rebel brides and the virgin bride. Being the virgin bride does fit with the image they want for me. 

     - I never really understood type casting, if I’m being honest. You know, the rat, brit, brat pack. Never really made sense.

     - It’s a marketing strategy. It is easier to market someone as a type rather than a complex person.

She liked photoshoots, she mostly got to dress up and get photographed almost like a big makeover like in those 90s movies she still curled up against her comforter to see. This particular one did make her upset, to be in a white wedding dress, surrounded by soft white fabric was particularly cruel. She knew her wedding was not going to be what she dreamed of a kid and unless she wanted to get her agency or the government in the business, the two of them would’ve had to get married in the civil hall. However, it did not matter to her where she got married, it mattered that the person she wasn’t engaged to was not here. It was almost like being dressed as a left at the altar bride ... like a widow. 

She unpinned the veil from her hair, taking off all the heavy jewellery that had been used to adorn her hair and put it on top of the desk where all the makeup was still open. The dress was pretty but it was big, it was too big, it almost swallowed her, it made her feel small but it reminded of him. She wondered where he was, what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he was safe.

    - That was boring. - Sharon said as she stepped inside the dressing room, holding two coffee cups. - I know that look. What’s wrong?

    - I hate this dress. - Y/N sat down in the chair. - It’s too big.

    - You look like a wedding cake.

    - Right. - Y/N moved the fabric up playfully. - I don’t think I can even move correctly. 

    - You should be thinking about your own soon. - Y/N gave Sharon a confused look. - Steve told me. Don’t tell Bucky, he’ll get upset and then Steve will be upset, big mess.

    - Well, it’s good to be able to speak to someone about it. - she smiled. Only Bucky and her parents knew, so she did not have many people to tell she was engaged to or to even speak about it. 

    - So, how do you envision your wedding dress?

    - Oh, I don’t ... I don’t really think about it. It’s most likely gonna be in city hall so it’s not worth it.

    - What? That’s bullshit. Everyone wears a dress. 

    - I can’t really go anywhere ... the paps would go crazy and that’s the last thing I need.

    - Still, everyone wears a dress even if they go to city hall.

Y/N merely shrugged. Her head was not in the right space and for the first time she was looking forward to go to set. It didn’t matter if being on set was dehumanising sometimes, it mattered that her head would’ve been somewhere else. She knew that as a perfectionist, her mind would be on finishing those scenes and not on Bucky. As she got home, she couldn’t help but get lost inside her mind again as Sharon put some old sitcom on the TV. She was surrounded by him, by memories of him, things that reminded her of him. Looking to her left there were framed photos of him, his jacket was still hanging from the door, the broken shards of porcelain were still on the sink. There were pieces of him everywhere and half of her felt ridiculous it was affecting her so much as it was but she loved him. She loved him.

    - Right, get your jacket. - Sharon got up from the couch.

    - Why? Where are we going?

    - You will see.

Y/N followed Sharon through the half lit Brooklyn night down to the back of several shops. The lights flickered, illuminating the bins filled with black plastic bags which laid in the back fronts of several shops. She watched as Sharon made her way towards a particular store back, taking a key from under a seemingly unseeingly rock which opened the heavy pad lock keeping the door shut. Sharon motioned her head towards the door and Y/N followed her into the dark shop. The agent closed the door behind them before she turned the lights. The bright white lights illuminated the shop floors and she noticed she was surrounded by hundreds of glass see through closets with various white dresses. Was she in a bridal shop?

    - You need to take your mind out of him. - Sharon sat against one of the pale pastel pink couches laid around the store. 

    - Is this legal?

    - You’re engaged to Bucky Barnes, how come you care about legality so much? 

    - I don’t want to get arrested, Sharon.

    - It’s one of my friends bridal store. You said you couldn’t do it without paps walking around and photographing you, so ... here you go.

    - I ... I don’t ... What if he doesn’t come back? - Y/N’s lip trembled as she crossed her arms and looked to the side.

    - Y/N, he will come back. It is one man against a soldier with the strength of five. Trust me, if not for anything else, he’ll come back to you. Now, dress, what dress do you want?

    - I don’t know. 

    - Come on. Pick one and try it on. We are not going home until you try a dress on.

    - Fine.

Y/N stared at the dresses, grabbing the first one she could find in her own size and dragging it onto the dressing room. It definitely was not her type of dress, at least not the type of dress she had envisioned getting married in. It was pure white, sleeveless with a cut which went down to her sternum, skin tight, hugging her body in a flattering way but it just wasn’t her dress. It wasn’t the dress she wanted to get married in, but right now it wasn’t the time to think about what dress to wear when Bucky was out. She shouldn’t be playing dress up. 

She waddled back to where Sharon was sat before she stopped in front of her, hands on her hips. Somehow, she had found some prosecco and plastic flutes and had her feet on top of the pale pink couch. 

   - Are you happy now? - Y/N sighed, mostly out off nuissance. 

   - Don’t give me that tone. - Sharon sipped from her own flute, handing Y/N the other one. - Come on, what do you think?

   - It’s ... uhm ... fine. - her hands gestured around the fabric.

   - What? That’s the first one you try. Why aren’t you crying? It isn’t the one if you’re not crying. That’s what they do in the movies.

   - I can cry.

   - No, spin. - Sharon waved her finger around and Y/N spun around slowly. - It ain’t it.

   - But Bucky ...

   - From now on every time you say the words James, Bucky, Buchanan, or Barnes, you’re drinking. 

   - But I don’t know if Bucky ...

   - Drink. - Sharon interrupted her. Y/N scrunched her face not really believing her but she looked dead serious. She took a sip of her prosecco, placing the flute on the table near her. - Come on, what does your wedding dress look like.

   - I don’t know ... I don’t want something skin tight, I want some floofy fabric.

   - Yeah, go on.

   - And I don’t want it to be too long, I want my shoes to show ... like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face.

   - Let’s find it. 

Both she and Sharon went through tons and tons of dresses, through so much lace she was sure to dream about it for the next week until they found something that resembled what she wanted. Y/N ended up rather dizzy on the prosecco, not used to drinking too much, running around barefoot with the dress that was her dress in a rather subdued white which showed her legs from the ankle down, a voluminous little shirt which cinched at her waist. A rather short veil fell from her head, pinned to the crown of her head with a fake baby pink rose prong clip. The two ended up laying on the pink couch, heads leaning against the rather comfortable pillows as they nursed the rest of the bottle of prosecco.

   - Okay but I have a question ... - Y/N said, bringing her flute down. - Is it weird dating the same guy who kissed your great aunt?

   - Listen, Steve is a kissing whore. - she tried to say it with a straight face but ended up breaking into laughter. - It’s true. He’ll kiss anyone, unstoppable. The blonde girl from the army, my great aunt, Natasha. If it hadn’t been for me, Steve would be Captain Kisscam instead of Captain America. 

   - Captain Kisscam. What superpowers would he have? 

   - Making people kiss each other? No that sounds terrible. I don’t know ... to be honest what even is Steve’s superpower?

   - Ultimate ... - Y/N broke down laughing before she could continue. She put her hand in front of her chest, taking a deep breathe as she tried not to laugh at the joke in her head. - Ultimate frisbee.

   - You know? Sex on top of the shield? Terrible, so uncomfortable.

   - Sharon!

   - What? I was curious, it is a weirdly unbreakable shield, isn’t it? Besides, that’s not even the craziest thing we’ve done.

    - What’s the craziest thing you’ve done?

    - We did it at the Smithsonian.

    - SHARON! There’s children there. It’s ... a hall of science, and ... memorabilia ... and ... I don’t know, I’ve never been to the Smithsonian.

    - Oh, c’mon. What’s the craziest place where you and Bucky have done it?

    - You said Bucky, drink. - Y/N pointed her flute at Sharon.

    - So did you. Drink. - the two girls drank what was left over in the glasses, throwing them to the side. - Come on. Tell me.

    - I don’t know ... What are we counting as doing it?

    - 3rd base.

    - I do not understand bases. 

    - Handjobs don’t count. 

    - Oh ... then ... the parking lot of the set in his car. 

    - And the car didn’t break?

    - Come on, it’s not that old of a car.

    - It’s ancient, Y/N. - Sharon chuckled, passively looking at her watch to check on the time. - We should get going before the shop opens.

She went back into the dressing room to take off her wedding dress. It wasn’t until then she realised she was still wearing his dog tags, the cold metal against her warm skin, a side effect of the alcohol coursing through her veins. She was reminded of him again on that moment, wondered how he was doing, how he was feeling. She hoped and begged he was okay in her mind, and the memory of him haunted her mind even as she laid down in bed to go to sleep. There was a direct line from wedding gowns and dog tags to her fiance and wherever he was. Her blood distracted by the unhinging of the alcohol coursing along it, was filled with hate. Not for him but for his situation, for how helpless she was to helping him. 

She turned around in her bed, forcefully shutting her eyes as a way to ensure she went to sleep instead of dwelling on those thoughts. However, she simply didn’t have a choice to leave. As her consciousness dissolved into unconscious she woke up in the same bedroom but the environment was blurry, very highly saturated yet the colours were candy bright. However, the environment wasn’t inviting at all and soon broken through the candy bright atmosphere she could hear screaming. She tried to untangle herself from her sheets, running through the bedroom yet her movements were slow and her running was more like a slow motion run. She pushed open the door, coming face to face with the same candy coloured blurred bright world but in front of her was him but not him as she knew him. Not at least as she had known him. His hair was much longer, slightly past his jaw which was covered by a mask, a muffle. His clothing was restricting, the top almost resembling a straightjacket, as if he was dangerous. He was so close but so far away, on his knees with someone whose face was blurrier than the atmosphere itself.

   -  Don’t worry. - the blurred person’s voice was as distorted as the vision, mechanical even as he rose a gun up to the head of a Bucky Barnes she had never met. - We will help you.

   - NO! - she lunged forward as the gunshot echoed through her ears and like a rubber band she was pushed back to reality. She rose her torso from her bed in pure agony, eyes wide open and red, hand holding the sheet against her chest which rose up and down in fast paces.

Looking around, nothing was candy coloured and everything was clear. The room was dark in muddled shades barely lit by the moon light peaking from the small rips in the curtains Bucky had first gotten when he first moved in. Everything was as it was, his sleeping shorts were still hanging from the chair next to the dresser, the dead flowers were still in the vase he had once put them when they were fresh. Everything was as it was, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was lurking. The feeling that both of them had just crossed the bridge past the point of no return. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @oh-nohoney @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ 

[sassyangelchild]

Mahiru (MILGRAM) and why I voted her guilty

Okay so I know that Mahiru’s trial time has almost ended but I wanted to share my thoughts on her and her crime. English is not my mother tongue so I may make mistakes, sorry in advance.

At first I thought the same as a lot of people, that her and his boyfriend had problems, she pressured him too much and he killed himself... BUT then I satrted to think, and to find her MV a little suspicious.... what if they weren’t even dating?

Ok hear me out.  I’m not saying they didn’t know each other. But I don’t trust Mahiru’s POV. Yes, the PV can’t lie because it’s extracted from their minds but that only means that we are seeing what Mahiru truly thinks and how she viewed the crime. What she thinks happened and what happened could not be exactly the same. 

Now I’m going to analyze the PV to support my theory. Obviously I can’t know if it’s true, I can’t only speculate since we don’t really know the truth, but I’m going to explain the things that made me reach this conclusion. Some parts I would mark them as pure speculation based in if my theory is true. The translation of the diary is a translation posted in the youtube video comments by 猫黒.

So Mahiru’s story is a 16 day story (the number of entries in her diary that appear in the PV). The first two days Mahiru and the man who is supossed to be her boyfriend don’t even know each other, so we are talking about a 14 days relationship/12 days if we take into account the first day they TALKED for the first time. It’s... quite short.

Day 3 is the first time they even exchange a GLANCE and we don’t even know if the “boyfriend” noticed her lol they locked eyes for a moment but it’s not something so unusual. Mahiru felt it was fate, sure, but we don’t have the boy’s point of view.

It’s not until day 5 they really interact. Day 4 is Mahiru seeing him but she doesn’t even talk with him and he doesn’t approach her either so... he probably didn’t even notice her/didn’t know her. Day 5 she finally is able to talk with him. 

Day 8 Mahiru decides to confess waiting for him outside his work. This is... weird. I mean, they don’t even know each other that much but she is already waiting outside his work? To me this seems like she stalked him since she couldn’t get a hold of him by normal means. The most normal interaction if they were already friends would be to call him or something to hang out, this feels more like Mahiru trying to ensure he can’t avoid her since she knows he has to go to work and go home at some point, it doesn’t seem like he is expecting her to be there and for that reason she is early, to make sure he doen’t go home without encountering her. She even call it an ambush. 

Then she calls it a date but based on what I said above I don’t really think it was, although for Mahiru it was because her mind works like that so it’s not a lie for her. I thinks it’s the same as in day 3, for her it was “destiny” but we don’t have the boy’s point of view. Also a very suspicious thing: she doesn’t tell you the boy accepted the confession. We suposse he must have because from that moment Mahiru is convinced they are dating and tells you that but I don’t think Mahiru is a reliable narrator and if they are really going out, why refuse to say “he said yes”? She just says “Not gonna say. But can’t you tell from my face?”. She avoids telling crearly what was the answer.

 And it’s not only that. The diary entries start to become messier, the lines more broken and the text harder to read around day 8, the confession, until they resemble an anonymous threat letter lol. Why would it get darker when supossedly the guy told her yes? My theory is that things didn’t go as well as Mahiru makes it seem in day8. Maybe in her head she is still convinced that things are going to work out in the end but deep down she knows things are not that good and so the diary becomes more of a mess reflecting that.

Day 10, she seems to thinks they are going out and every time they meet she calls it a date, but I find interesting that she says he doesn’t seems to notice her appearence. You could say he is just that sort of guy but come on, they are at the start of the relationship and he doesn’t seem to look at her or tell her she is pretty? Seems to me like he isn’t even interested in her romantically speaking and probably doesn’t even think they are in a relationship lol

Okay in day 11 they go to the same place. Maybe they really went together (which doesn’t mean he thinks about it like a date, he could thinks about her like a friend or a nice girl without wanting to be in a romantic relationship with her) or maybe, since she already said it’s a place from a movie he really liked they could have meet there by pure chance. I can’t really say without more info.

Day 12, and this is the exact moment where I started to find everthing super suspicious. First Mahiru is totally in love with the guy, she talks constantly about him in the diary, she interprets everything he does or likes as fate or something good blablabla.... then why doesn’t she say more about that day? She has been in her boyfriend’s house for the first time and she says she hardly remembers anything? Are you kidding me? She can’t tell anything about the date? They hang out at his house and she can’t even say something like “wow, he finally made a move, I’m so happy” “wow we talked a lot and I had a lot of fun” “we watched films” “I’m a little sad because he didn’t try anything”..... How can she not have anything to say about such a step in their relationship when she usually talks about the smallest interaction they have? It’s super suspicious. And the weird things don’t end there.

The picture of day 12 shows her in his house but don’t you thinks it’s a little weird? Because the boyfriend is not seen anywhere at all. They even put a mirror in there to show you that he isn’t there. Why put that mirror there if not to show us that yes, he is not there welcoming her, we aren’t seeing him and it’s not because he is in front of her because then he would be reflected in there. And then you start to wonder... And realize all the dates and stuff Mahiru talks about where the boyfriend should be... he is just not there. It’s always Mahiru alone with the exception of one day we would talk later. And it’s not because the photos can only show Mahiru because we’ve seen the hands of the person who sells her coffe in day 2, the dog in day 8 and the hairdresser in day 10 that is even shown in the mirror too. Why is the only person who is not shown in the photos the boyfriend? Because he wasn’t even hanging out with her, she probably stalked him and thought about it like a date. 

Day 14 is the only one where we supossedly see the boyfriend, and in case it really is him it only makes it weirder for him not be in all the other photos. Mahiru is always talking about they going out on dates but she is always shown alone. 

Also she says she “really asked him to come along”. Why do you have to really insist if he is supossed to be your boyfriend who loves movies? Maybe because he doesn’t even know you that well and you are not going out...

Day 15 they go to the shrine to pray for the new year. Again he is not shown in the photo, and considering that is quite common to go to pray at the shrine in new year I think (again) that although they may have seen each other there for real it was not a date although Mahiru probably thinks that it was fate and therefore a date of sorts.

Mahiru’s wish is also weird. Why woul anyone get in their way or why is she thinking they are no going to be together? They supossedly just started going out, why is she so paranoic with him leaving? Maybe because they are not really going out and she fears he is going to get taken by other person since he is technically single.

Day 16, the day before the crime, the last entry we have before the scene where Mahiru wakes up with an horrified look in her face. She says she is in his house waiting with the food ready. Ok lovely but... think about it. First, if it’s a surprise it means he doesn’t know she is in his house so how has she entered? Did he gave her his house keys? That’s a little weird since they aren’t going out for that long, Mahiru dind’t even mention him giving her the keys (nor has she mentioned him doing nothing a boyfriend would do like kissing her or telling her he loves her) so they don’t seem so close yet. She says she has jotted down everything he likes, which makes me think that he hasn’t told her, she has deduced it by... basically oberving him which depending on how has she done it could be stalking. 

Okay now think about it. You are a boy who meets Mahiru. She seems nice, sure, but you aren’t really interested in going out with her. Then one day she is outside your work waiting for you, confesses and you tell her no so you thinks everything is okay. She keeps talking to you so you think “well nothing wrong with that I guess”. One day you return home and she is there. You don’t know how she has entered. She is just there, smiling as if nothing is wrong, with dinner ready. That would scare me to death. 

And the next thing we know is that he is dead. 

I think he freaked out, told her she was creeping him out and that he didn’t want her to keep stalking him, that he dind’t love her... and she snapped.

If we listen to the song she is shown as someone who doesn’t really care about his boyfriend’s thoughts. She thinks his distressed face is cute instead of worrying for why is he making that face in the first place, she calls him knowing she would wake him up, she talks about a “breakup ritual” like it’s something normal when it isn’t and even if they were going out if they are constantly breaking up she should be thinking about which are the reason because that is going to end up being a toxic relationship but she doesn’t seem worried at all... In one line she says  "wonder if you’ll get angry soon" and in other she says  "I’m going to start relying on you if you’re kind to me, so please forgive me, thanks!". That sounds like he stayed friends with her (why wouldn’t he at the start if she haven’t done anything bad to him) and she interpreted as permission to start fantasizing about being more with him and start stalking him. The lyrics make her seem emotionally manipulative “ If you don’t hug me, even our hearts will start drifting apart”, “ Giving you love to the point of pulling you down”,  “ We fought sometimes/I was happy to get hurt/Let’s have matching pain, this sickness is pretty bad/This is a claim of responsibility/From the two of us with matching love”. 

I think some of the lyrics fit quite well my theory of them not being in a real relationship “Wanting to know everything about you, but wanting to die because it can’t come true”.

And lastly don’t forget the interrogations we have seen up until know. They ask Mahiru what she would do to atone for her sin and she says she doesn’t even know if  her actions were a bad thing. She also said to Es that if they are not careful she might fall in love and kill him too. When asked what does she want from her lover she says that she only wants for him to accept her love (meaning his previous “boyfriend” who I think wasn’t in reality her boyfriend did not accept her love, making me believe more in my theory). She is also shown to be quite self centered and selfish, always talking about what she wants without caring about what her partner might feel (when asked what is worse than death she replied not being able to love... girl you killed the guy, I think he has it worse and all you are thinking is like “oh, how bad I killed him because I can’t keep on forcing my love on him”)

To sum up, this are the reasons why I voted Mahiru guilty and I seriously think she was not in a relationship with the guy or at least she has distorted the reality in her mind.

[hockey-fics]

Broken Promises and Forbidden Relationships ~ Jamie Oleksiak

Summary: Having Roope as your best friend was one of the best things in your life. The biggest downside had always been how protective he got. So you made a promise to never get involved with one Dallas Star defensemen in particular...but sometimes feelings are stronger than past promises. 

Word Count: ~10.5k

Warnings: Language, very cliche, a lot of drama.

Video source of gif

Huge shoutout to @klingeroopesalove​ for the idea and then being the most patient person on planet earth for waiting so stupidly long for me to finish it. 

A/N: There’s a few sentences in Finnish throughout this. I tried my absolute best with the translations. I don’t speak Finnish so I had to rely on contextual dictionaries for this so I’m really, really sorry if I butchered it! Also, it’s not my best writing in general and I don’t love it, but I hope you enjoy it!

Roope had been the older brother you never biologically had since you were 7. When your parents, the free-spirits they were, had decided to sell the house you had lived in for the first seven years of your life on a whim. But rather than move across town or to a new city or even a different state they decided to start fresh in Tampere, Finland. You moved into a house across the street from another family that your parents quickly befriended and the next thing you knew Roope was showing up at your front door every morning to walk you to school. And after the end of the school day he would show up at your classroom door to walk home with you. He was only one year older than you but he very quickly became protective over you, you were the epitome of a new kid and he wanted to make things as easy for you as possible. And just as quickly you grew attached to Roope, the first day he was sick and couldn’t walk with you to school left you crying so hard your mom agreed to take you herself, leaving her forty minutes late to work. 

You had always talked about moving back to the United States growing up. It wasn’t that you disliked Finland, in fact, in many of your daydreams about the USA it felt more like a temporary stop. To reconnect with some of your earliest memories before moving back to Finland eventually. 

Saying goodbye to Roope when he moved to Texas after being signed by the Dallas Stars was one of the hardest days of your life. But in retrospect the sadness you felt was overkill. Because within four months you were also living in Texas. And you had adapted incredibly easy to the move. But you knew you had Roope to thank for that, for being the catalyst to finally doing what you said you were going to do. 

“Mind if we pick up Y/N on the way?” Roope asks, turning his head to look across the interior of his car at Jamie. Jamie’s car was in the shop and when he mentioned getting a rental car for the day Roope told him he could just carpool to and from practice that day with him instead of going through that hassle. What he didn’t think about was the fact that he had agreed to pick you up on his way home for a movie night at his apartment. 

Jamie glances over at Roope with a mischievous grin. He had heard all about you. As had the rest of the team and most likely anybody who Roope had talked to. Everybody knew you were Roope’s best friend and even though he had never said it out loud everyone was well aware of the reason he never brought you around to meet the team. He was protecting you. Protecting you from the possibility of you falling for and getting hurt by one of his teammates. He would try to protect you from getting your heart broken by any guy in the world if it was possible, but the best he could logistically do was keeping you from his teammates.

“No problem,” Jamie replies easily, turning back to look out through the front window of the car. 

Roope stops at a red light, glancing back over at Jamie. “Don’t make it weird.” 

“Why do you think I would?”

“Because she’s…,” Roope’s voice fades out as he presses on the gas, accelerating through the intersection. “I don’t….she’s really pretty, I guess,” Roope mutters in the way a brother would talk about his sister, uncomfortable even acknowledging the fact that someone might look at you in a way that was more than just friendly. 

Jamie chuckles, shaking his head. “Fine, I won’t make it weird,” Jamie assures him with finality, sounding more reassuring than Roope felt. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, drawing your attention away from the book you were reading. ’I’m here’ the text message from Roope reads. Swiping your keys from the counter and your bag from beside the door you head out, hurrying down the stairs and outside. 

Approaching Roope’s familiar vehicle you reach out for the door handle on the passenger’s side, pausing when you notice a person in the passenger’s seat already. Before you have the chance to get to the backseat the door opens. 

“You can have the front seat,” the man tells you and after a couple moments you recognize him as Jamie Oleksiak. Oleksiak. You were more familiar with him by his last name after watching almost ever single one of Roope’s games. 

“No, no,” you tell him quickly, watching as he steps out of the car. But your hand is already on the back door. “Get back in,” you laugh, gesturing towards the car. 

Jamie shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips. “I’m the one messing up your movie date.”

“It’s not…it’s not a date…and you’re definitely not messing anything up.” You weren’t sure where that need to clarify came from. You had joked about dating Roope more times than you could count. About how often he would pay for your meals out, picking you up and taking you home, texting and FaceTiming constantly when you weren’t together. But you wanted Jamie to know it wasn’t like that. And even though you wanted to deny it, it was pretty hard to convince yourself that it wasn’t simply because of Jamie. Because of his tall figure towering over you. Because of the grin on his lips as he looked down at you. Because of the tattoos covering his muscular arms, partially obscured by the sleeve of his t-shirt. Because of his piercing eyes locked on yours. And maybe, just maybe, you finally understood the jokes Roope had made to you about keeping you away from his friends. Because you really had underestimated just how attractive Jamie really was, the brief shots of him on the television screen during games doing him no justice. 

Jamie chuckles, his hand resting casually on top of the car door in a way you knew would look ridiculous if you ever tried. “I’m not the one making it weird,” Jamie says, turning to look back into the car at Roope. 

You narrow your eyes as you lean down to look through the interior of the car, watching Roope turn his head to look back at you. “Mene vain autoon, Y/N,” Roope says, telling you to get in the car. 

You blink a few times as Roope begins to speak Finnish, something he only ever did when he was frustrated with you or wanting to tell you something privately when other people were around. “Mikä sinua vaivaa?” You reply, voice hushed as you ask him what his problem was while climbing into the backseat of the car. 

You watch as Jamie apprehensively gets back into the passenger’s seat, eyes shifting back and forth between you and Roope.  

“Älä flirttaile hänen kanssaan,” Roope warns, telling you not to flirt with Jamie as he turns back around in his seat to look out through the front window. 

“En flirttaillut hänen kanssaan,” you state harshly, letting Roope know you weren’t flirting with Jamie. But perhaps it was a slight lie. With the way you made it very clear that he wasn’t messing up your day, the way your eyes lingered on his just a little too long. You turn your head to the other side of the car, noticing Jamie glancing back at you. “Sorry,” you tell him with a soft smile. “Someone doesn’t know it’s rude to speak in a language their guest can’t understand,” you state, a jab at Roope, playful, but still a jab. 

Jamie chuckles, not looking back out the front window for a few minutes. “I’m Jamie, by the way,” he tells you, now settled in the car and realizing nobody had even done introductions. Not that they needed to be done. You had watched Jamie play more times than you could possibly count and he had heard more stories about you than he could possibly count. 

“Nice to meet you,” you tell him, stopping yourself before saying ‘I know’. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” he says and you can’t help but smile at that, at how quickly he said exactly what you hadn’t. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god, that can’t be good,” you joke, laughing as you slide into the seat behind Roope so you would have a better view of Jamie as you continued the conversation. 

Jamie chuckles and turns his head to glance at you, the glance lingering longer than it should have and you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach coming alive with the way he was looking at you. “All good stuff,” he assures you.

“Good,” is all you can manage to whisper. It wasn’t like you to be at a loss for words, but your mind was a blank slate, empty under his gaze. But the second his eyes flick away from yours you know you’re in trouble, because all you want is for them to be back on you. “What are you doing this afternoon?” You blurt out and Jamie turns to look back at you while Roope glances in the rearview mirror, trying to figure out if you were really about to do what he thought you were. 

Jamie shrugs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I’ve got no plans.”

“Come watch a movie with us,” you suggest, trying to sound casual about it, not too eager.

“Y/N, ei,” Roope mutters, telling you no. 

“I-,” Jamie begins, looking over at Roope and then back at you, seeming torn. “If you don’t mind.” You weren’t sure who the latter part was directed at, but you were pretty sure it was Roope given his uncomfortable tension through the entirety of the car ride. 

“That’s fine,” Roope mutters. You know it’s not fine. You know he doesn’t want you to get close to his teammates. He never did. 

Growing up in high school when everyday you were in the same building as the junior hockey team it was harder for Roope to keep you from getting hurt. And hurt is exactly what you got. Hurt by one of Roope’s teammates when he cheated on you after your five months together, a reasonable feat at 15 years old. And of course Roope hated him after that, but you made him promise that he wouldn’t let it impact how he played. That whatever happened during the 60 minutes of his hockey games had to be completely unrelated to what happened with you. And as far as you could tell, he upheld that promise back then. 

But you weren’t going to let that one experience when you were 15 years old interfere with your life all these years later. 

You’re in Roope’s apartment soon after, Jamie standing a few feet away, watching as you put a bag of popcorn in the microwave while Roope had disappeared somewhere in his apartment. 

“What movie are we watching?” Jamie asks, watching you push the button for the popcorn on the microwave. 

Turning to him you press your hip to the counter as the microwave whirs in the background. “I think the guest should pick.”

“You’re the guest here too,” Jamie points out. 

Rolling your eyes playfully you cross your arms over your chest. “Hardly. I’m here almost as much as my own apartment.”

“Okay, well you have to at least help me out.”

Lifting your eyebrows you look up at him. “Oh, do I?”

Jamie nods, a smirk on his lips. “Yeah, you do.”

“Okay,” you tell him slowly, waiting for him to go on. 

“What category of movie should I pick from?”

“Romantic…comedy, a comedy,” you tell him, quickly changing your answer when you considered the possibility of your suggestion coming across too strong. You weren’t going to deny that you were attracted to Jamie, but you couldn’t be that outright about it. You had to feel things out for now. 

“Romantic comedy,” Jamie states, combining the two suggestions you made into one. It felt so easy, the way he said it, his voice gentle and sweet. 

You feel your cheeks getting a little warm and you immediately divert your attention back to the microwave, eyes watching the numbers decreasing. You’re sure for a moment that time has slowed down to make you sit in this situation for longer than normal. “Can you grab a couple bowls?” you ask Jamie, nodding towards the cupboard behind him.

Jamie turns around and opens the cupboard door, reaching up to grab a couple of the bowls from the top shelf. As he does so you can’t help but look back in his direction, eyes taking in the sight before you. Sure, you knew you shouldn’t be staring. Maybe it was disrespectful or inconsiderate. He was just doing what you asked, helping you out, you shouldn’t be checking him out. But it felt like a magnetic pull that you didn’t know how to break from. 

You don’t look away quick enough when Jamie turns back towards you, the two bowls in hand. You know that he had caught you staring. You knew it from the smirk on his lips as he extends his arm with the bowls, silent as he hands them to you. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking them and setting them on the counter. Keeping your back to him you take the popcorn out of the microwave, dumping some into each of the bowls, trying to ignore the urge you had to look back and see if he was watching you. You were fairly sure he was, if not simply because you were the only other person in the room. 

“No problem,” he replies, leaning against the counter. 

When you look back over he’s already looking at you, but he’s unwavering in it. “He wasn’t lying.”

“Hm?” You hum, one hand resting against the counter as you look up at Jamie.

“Roope said you were really pretty…he wasn’t lying.”

You feel your heart hammering, loud and distracting in your own ears. “He must have forgotten to give me the same message about you.” Your eyes were focused on the counter, on the clock on the stove, briefly on Jamie’s lips, anywhere but his eyes. You were scared if you looked into his eyes you simply wouldn’t be able to look away, to hide the fact that you were falling for him harder and faster than you knew you should be. 

“That I’m really pretty?”

And suddenly the tension in the room has changed. It’s lighter now as his comment makes you giggle. When you look over from where you were staring at the flashing light on the dishwasher you notice him already looking at you with an amused grin. “Yeah, you’re for sure one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen,” you joke. 

“I’m flattered,” Jamie chuckles, reaching over and picking up at piece of popcorn. 

A moment later you reach over as well, grabbing a few pieces as you step away from him and into the middle of the kitchen. “Catch,” you tell him, tossing a kernel of corn through the air. 

Jamie instinctively reaches out, catching the popcorn in his hand with ease. 

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Not with your hand, dumbass,” you tease. Occasionally it came back to you. Flirting in the same way you flirted as a teen, with a slight meanness to your comments. “Your mouth.”

Jamie laughs and you feel your cheeks warm up again. “Not…,” you begin, trailing off as you realize you didn’t need to clarify that you didn’t mean anything sexualize by it. You try again, tossing it towards him. 

“You’re going to have to throw higher than that.”

“You’re too tall,” you giggle, trying to get some more height on the popcorn. “It’s too light,” you whine about the popcorn. 

Jamie grabs a handful of popcorn, nodding for you to step back before he grabs one piece and throws it in your direction. You manage to catch the first kernel, laughing as you spin in a celebratory circle. Jamie tries again and this time you step overzealously to the side, your hip smacking against the corner of the kitchen island. 

“Ow,” you whine, laughing as you grasp your hip. 

“Are you okay?” Jamie asks, stepping over towards you, his hands hovering towards you, as if wanting to do something to help the situation but falling short of knowing what to do. 

You can’t help but fall just a little more for him, for the way his eyes were filled with concern over such a little thing. “Yeah, completely,” you assure him, looking down at his hands. You watch him hesitantly bring one to the counter, resting it there in an attempt to look like he wasn’t unsure of everything he was doing. “Thanks for asking though.”

“Of course.” 

You place both your hands onto the counter, hopping up onto it. For the first time you’re the same height as Jamie and you’re finally looking into his eyes for more than a couple fleeting seconds. “You have really nice eyes.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, eyes locked on his. 

“Thank you,” Jamie replies, his own voice in a low whisper as he gravitates a little closer. He leans a little closer and you realize he’s looking into your eyes, really and truly looking into them. “Yours too.” 

Jamie is standing directly in front of you now. You couldn’t stop your mind from flooding with all sorts of less than PG thoughts about Jamie standing so close to you, so close to standing between your legs. You can’t even manage to say anything over the volume of the thoughts in your head. 

“What movie are we watching?” Roope asks, breaking you away from the moment you were having with Jamie. 

“Jamie is picking,” you tell him, turning your head around to look over your shoulder at Roope. As Jamie steps back you slide off the counter, grabbing the two bowls of popcorn from the counter. 

“A romantic comedy,” Jamie chimes in as you and him follow Roope into the living room. 

Roope laughs as he plops down onto the recliner he always sat in. He always sat in the recliner so you could lay on the couch. “Oh, you’re not joking,” Roope comments, noticing he was the only one laughing. 

“You’re going to make Jamie share the couch and popcorn with me?” You ask Roope, your tone lighthearted but your insides twisting into anxious knots. How did Jamie have such control over your feelings? He was just a guy. Just one of the most attractive guys you had seen in awhile. But just a guy. 

“I don’t mind,” Jamie says, already sitting down on the end of the couch. 

Nodding you walk over, sitting down a couple feet away from him as you set the bowl of popcorn between you two. You reach over for the remote, handing it to Jamie as you pull your legs up onto the couch, shuffling a little closer to him so you could reach the popcorn.

“Olen kolmas pyörä,” Roope mutters, complaining about feeling like a third wheel. 

“Hiljaa,” you reply, telling him to shut up as you shake your head. He wasn’t a third wheel as he was insinuating with his comment. Though perhaps if you really did have it your way he would be. But just as that thought pops into your mind you’re quick to get rid of it by focusing on the Netflix options Jamie was scrolling through. 

Fifteen minutes later a movie is playing and you’re all sitting quietly watching it. You were far more tense than normal. You weren’t lounging on the couch shovelling popcorn into your mouth without a care in the world. 

But halfway through the movie you felt some of your nerves dissipating, the familiar feeling of getting over the initial anxiety during a first date. But you felt ridiculous that you were feeling like that. This was so far from a first date. 

Eventually the popcorn bowl is moved onto the coffee table, leaving the space between you and Jamie empty. And you find yourself gravitating towards him a little every time you adjust on the couch. And then his arm is around the back of the couch behind you and you can’t help but turn to look at him with a playful smile on your lips. Because it was such a classic move, the arm on the couch, it wasn’t as forward as putting your arm around someone. It was subtle, it was open to interpretation. It was a way to make a move where you couldn’t be directly denied. But when he looked back down at you, you knew that you hadn’t misread the situation. So you slide a little closer, tentative as you lean against him. 

“Do you like the movie?” Jamie whispers once you’re leaning against him, his arm still resting on the couch. 

Nodding you tip your head back, looking up at him. You notice the stubble on his jawline, obviously having shaved recently but not too recently. And it looks so effortlessly attractive. His eyes are soft as he gazes down at you. “Yeah, I do. It was a good choice.” 

“You’re picking next time.”

The corners of your lips pull into a smile when he says this, feeling his arm slide down from the back of the couch to rest on your shoulders. “Next time?”

Jamie lets out a breath of laughter. “Hopefully,” he whispers.

“I feel left out of this conversation,” Roope announces, looking over at you and Jamie. He waits till you look into his eyes, immediately giving you a look. A look of disapproval, a look of ‘what are you doing?’ Rather than addressing it you quickly break eye contact with him. 

“Sucks, hey?” Jamie jokes, referring to when Roope kept speaking to you in Finnish. 

You can’t help but giggle at that, feeling Jamies fingers brush over your shoulder, as if to silently tell you he appreciated you laughing at his joke, at being in on a joke with you. 

Roope shakes his head, turning back to the movie without saying another word. 

By the time the movie comes to an end you’re completely cuddled up with Jamie. He’s sitting at an angle, allowing you lean against his chest, your legs pulled onto the couch. You can feel every time he chuckles at a joke in the movie, the steady rise and fall of his chest with his breath. 

“Ready to go?” Roope asks harshly when the movie ends, sitting up straighter in the recliner. 

You’re taken aback by this. He almost never asks you to leave after just one movie. He almost never asks you to leave in general. He typically waits will you ask him to drive you home. “Yeah,” you mumble, pulling yourself away from Jamie and stretching your arms in front of you. 

You feel a sense of urgency as you pick up the bowl of popcorn to take it to the kitchen, bustling around as you gather your belongings while Roope waits to drive you and Jamie back to your apartments. 

This time it’s you who has to be the one to break out the Finnish. And you felt bad with Jamie a few feet away, but the way Roope was acting was equally concerning and irritating. “Miksi käyttäydyt näin?” You ask him why he’s acting like that. 

“I thought it was rude to speak another language,” Roope deadpans, grabbing his keys from the counter. 

“Whatever,” you grumble, following him out the door. Your relationship with Roope was so much closer to a sibling relationship than a typical relationship. You two would bicker and argue all the time, but you knew it never really meant anything. Well, it normally didn’t mean anything. 

After dropping Jamie off at his apartment Roope turns to look at you. “You can’t go out with him.”

“Okay,” you say, the word drawn out as you say it.

“I know you’re into him.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say that,” you tell him defensively, despite the fact that it was very true. 

“I know you well enough, I can tell you are,” Roope says, his eyes focused intently out the front window. “Not that I have to know you well to tell, with you two all over each other on the couch.”

“We weren’t,” you begin, sighing loudly as you roll your eyes. “We weren’t all over each other. He had his arm around me…that’s it.”

“I don’t ask much from you but can you just listen to me for once?”

“What the hell?” You whine, rolling your eyes. “I listen to you all the time.” And it was true, you were always going to Roope for advice. The only difference is that was advice you were asking for, this was advice he was giving you. 

“Can you please just agree to this?”

“Fine,” you huff. You knew it would be easier to just let this go. It wasn’t like Jamie even asked for your number or made any real plans to see you again. So it wasn’t worth arguing for something that wasn’t even going to happen. 

“Good,” Roope comments, stopping at an intersection. “So do you want to come back to my apartment and watch another movie?”

Laughing you roll your eyes. So getting you to leave was just to get Jamie away from you. “Of course,” you reply. 

Later that night, after two more movies and pizza for dinner with Roope you’re back at your apartment, getting ready for bed. After you crawl under the covers and pick up your phone you notice an Instagram notification. 

Jamie Oleksiak (jamieoleksiak) started following you. 

Clicking the notification your phone unlocks, opening his profile. After a few minutes of scrolling through his profile you go back to the top, pressing the follow back button with a smile on your face. You shouldn’t have been so happy. For a few different reasons but primarily because it simply didn’t mean anything. 

Months later and you never received so much as a DM from Jamie. You had gotten your hopes up for nothing. Nothing but a friendly gesture for him to follow you. He had liked all your new posts since then, but nothing more than that. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen,” you tell Roope, your phone sitting on the bathroom counter as you were finishing the last bits of your hair. It was a blatant lie. The drive to his apartment took ten minutes itself and you had lost hope of being out of your apartment in the next five.

It was the Dallas Stars’ annual casino night and Roope had asked you to come with him. He had never invited you to anything like this before and you had a slight inkling you knew why that was changing. Because you had met Jamie. You had met Jamie and absolutely nothing happened. Nothing happened and Roope was ecstatic about it. He was coming around to the idea that perhaps he had been just a little too protective with you.

So here you were, standing in front of the mirror in a black dress, looking more done up than you had been in awhile. You simply had no reason to get this dressed up, makeup and hair done to match. 

“I know you’re lying,” Roope comments and you can hear the humour in his voice, can picture him shaking his head. 

“Okay, fine,” you huff, yanking the curling iron cord from the outlet, swiping your phone from the counter as you make your way to your bedroom. “Twenty,” you tell him, digging through your closet for the pair of heels you knew you had but hadn’t worn in long enough for them to end up stashed in the back of the closet. “I’m just putting my shoes on now,” you call to your phone on the other side of the room, pulling the heels on and securing the tiny, delicate buckles around your ankles. 

“I knew you would be late, we don’t actually have to leave my place for like forty-five minutes.”

You pause, looking over at your phone with narrowed eyes, as if you were really looking at Roope. Huffing you walk over, picking your phone up along with the purse you had already prepared with the essentials for the night. “You’re so…infuriating. I’ve been panicking for like an hour about being late.”

“But if I didn’t do this you would still be panicking and we really would be late,” Roope chuckles. 

Rolling your eyes you remain silent, knowing it was the truth. Walking to the door you grab your car keys. “I’m leaving now,” you mutter, pretending to be annoyed with him when you were truly relieved. 

“See you in a bit.”

When you get to the venue you become aware of the fact that the night was going to be more overwhelming than you had anticipated. You wanted to make a good impression with Roope’s teammates. But to meet them all at once was a bit more than you bargained for. 

“So you must be Y/N.”

Turning your head in the direction of the voice you smile at the man approaching you. Tyler Seguin. You knew who most of the players were, but you knew him especially. Because one of your friends in particular had shared her much more than innocent feelings for him with you. 

“I am,” you say with a soft laugh, looking over at Roope teasingly, coming to realize he really did talk about you more than you thought. You talked about him all the time too, with your friends and family. About current things, games and achievements but also when you talked about your past. Because from the moment you met Roope he had been such an important part of your life than almost all of your memories included him in some form. “Tyler, right?”

Tyler smirks and you know it’s just friendly but Roope steps forward, almost between you two. 

“Calm down,” you laugh, jokingly pushing at Roope’s arm. “It’s not me you would need to worry about around him.”

Roope’s brows furrow as he stares at you and you can see in his eyes he’s running through the rolodex of options. “Who?” He finally asks, voice hushed as if you were spilling some serious secrets. 

“Allie,” you giggle, shaking your head at how intrigued Roope had become. 

“Allie, hey?” Tyler chimes in, laughing as he says it, making it evident that he was just joking. 

“Don’t get too excited, she’s in Finland,” you explain to Tyler. 

As you, Tyler, and Roope continue your conversation your attention it caught by a tall figure across the room. Jamie. And he was looking right back at you. 

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me for a minute,” you say to Roope and Tyler, stepping back and around them. 

Walking up to Jamie you smile up at him. “Long time, no see.”

“Too long,” he replies, lifting the glass he was holding to his lips. “You look beautiful tonight…I mean, you look beautiful always, but tonight especially,” he stammers, chuckling at himself as he shakes his head, both of you aware that he was flustered because of you. “You don’t want a drink?” He asks, clearly feeling like he needed a couple more himself. 

“Thank you,” you say politely, replying to his compliment, uncertain of exactly how to take it. Perhaps if he had shown more interest, between the time you met and now you would have a better grasp of how to respond. You wanted to think he was truly into you, but you couldn’t get rid of the nagging in the back of your head telling you that he could have done more. “Yeah, actually, I would,” you tell him finally, glancing around for the bar. 

“Let’s go find you a drink then.” Jamie’s hand pressing into your lower back makes you jump, the contact unexpected. “Sorry,” he says instantly, pulling back. You knew he was just doing it to guide you through the crowded room but it caused your stomach to erupt with butterflies in a way that made you realize that the excitement you felt initially was still very much alive.  

Laughing you shake your head. “It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting that.” You glance down at his hand, hesitantly reaching over and taking it in yours, nodding in the direction of the bar. “Let’s go find that drink.”

Jamie nods, eyes not leaving yours, a smile on his lips. Completely wrapped up in you, like nothing else going on in the room mattered for the time being. 

And you don’t let go of his hand till you’re at the bar, standing next to him while you wait for the crowd of people already there to be helped. You were in no rush because a part of you worried this might be the only time you got to be with Jamie that night. You needed more time with him, to figure out what was happening with him…if anything was happening with him. 

“I was surprised when Roope said he was bringing you,” Jamie says as you were glancing around the room, taking in the large and crowded room, the sound of music faded below the hum of conversations blending into one steady drone. 

“I think he’s feeling a little more comfortable after we met,” you explain even though you’re certain he already knows this. “Because nothing happened even though we were…” you trail off, hoping Jamie would fill in the blank. 

Attracted to each other? Flirting? You were hoping for something, but you receive nothing but a nod of acknowledgement instead. 

After getting your drink you glance up at Jamie, wishing for a moment that you didn’t have to do what you were about to do. “I should go find Roope, I haven’t been a great date so far.”

Jamie chuckles and nods. “So it’s a date this time, hey? I remember you got a little defensive about that word last time.”

“I’m more sure that you know Roope and I aren’t a thing now,” you explain, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m surprised you still don’t have someone to bring with you tonight though.”

Jamie chuckles, shrugging. “The person I’m interested right now is here with someone else tonight.”

Laughing you roll your eyes playfully. “Good one, Casanova.” Out of the corner of your eye you notice a couple people standing a few feet away, glancing over in Jamie’s direction. “I think you’ve got some people who want to talk to you,” you tell him, stepping back. “And I should get back to my date,” you add with a teasing smile. 

He nod, intoxicated by you, watching you till you had turned around and walked away, back in Roope’s direction. 

You can feel the temperature in the place increasing with time, the amount of bodies crammed into the space too much for the air conditioning to keep up. It’s fairly late in the evening when you excuse yourself again. Roope was wrapped up in a conversation with a fan, an elderly gentleman, that you felt rude enough interrupting to tell him you were going outside for a moment. 

“I’ll come with you, just give me a couple minutes,” Roope says quietly. “I don’t want you to be outside alone.”

Sighing you shake your head, annoyed both that he felt like you couldn’t go alone and also because a part of you knew he was right. “I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N,” Roope says seriously. 

“Fine, I won’t go alone,” you tell him, your eyes having landed on Jamie. He also seemed to be in a conversation, but he was just talking with Jason and Miro. It would be less rude for him to leave them than for Roope. Not to mention you liked the idea of spending a few more minutes with Jamie. 

Roope follows your gaze, jaw clenching. But you knew he couldn’t say anything about. Not here, not in front of another person. “Okay,” he mutters to you before continuing on with his conversation with the older man. 

You weave your way through the crowd to Jamie who smiles as soon as he sees you, not helping to clear up whether he was into you or not. “Hey,” he greets before you’ve even come to a stop. “Need another drink?” He jokes, referring to your empty hands. 

“No, I actually need a chaperone to go outside with me,” you laugh. “Roope won’t let me go get some air by myself.”

Jamie nods, gesturing towards the doors. “Lead the way.”

“You guys coming?” You ask Jason and Miro with a friendly smile. 

Jason chuckles, shaking his head as he glances down at the ground. There’s a knowing smile that he’s trying to hide by avoiding looking you directly in the eyes. “Nah, we’re good.”

Nodding you step back towards Jamie. “I’ll have him back soon.”

“Take your time,” Miro comments, making Jason laugh again after just containing himself.

Outside you lean against a waist height cement retaining wall, taking a deep breath of the cool air. More than cool, the air was straight up cold, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrap your arms around your body but by the time your hands are on either arm Jamie has slid his suit jacket off. He opts out of offering it to you first, stepping in front of you he wraps it around your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as he keeps his hands on the lapels of the jacket. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re cold,” he reasons, as if it were a given that your comfort should be above his own. 

“Because I didn’t bring my jacket out here. Now you’re going to be cold.” You feel your heart racing as Jamie steps closer to you, his hands slowly dropping from where he was clutching at his jacket you had around you. 

“I’m tough,” he jokes.

“I don’t doubt it,” you giggle, watching as Jamie pulls back from you, turning around to lean against the concrete wall beside you. “Jamie?” you whisper, eyes focused on the ground a few feet in front of you. 

You can feel his eyes on you without having to actually see him. “Yeah?”

Swallowing heavily you cross your arms over your body. For so long you had prided yourself on not being the girl who would chase. You didn’t chase guys, didn’t ask for their attention. But here you were, doing just that. “Why didn’t you ever message me on Instagram? You followed me, I thought you were going to, but then…” you trail off, shrugging, knowing that he knew exactly what you were saying and you didn’t need to keep explaining. 

Jamie is quiet for a second. “I didn’t want to get between you and Roope. I know how much you mean to him and I’m sure it’s the same thing for you.”

You can’t help but laugh, turning your head now to look at him. “Nothing could ever come between Roope and I. We’re like siblings. It doesn’t matter what happens, nothing could ever come between us.”

Jamie nods, reaching over and taking your hand, gently pulling you away from where you were standing. You follow his lead, letting him guide you to stand in front of him. His free hand slides beneath his jacket, along your waist. You swallow heavily as he pulls you a little closer. “I was surprised when I actually met you.”

“Why?” You whisper, looking up at him intently. 

“Because I never thought you would actually be as incredible as Roope made you out to seem. But you are.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you stare at him, speechless. How could you respond to that? You could count on one hand the number of guys who had said things that nice to you completely unprompted, without seeming to want anything in return. 

You were already wearing heels but you lean up as much as you can, Jamie quickly taking the hint as he pulls you a little tighter, leaning down. But he’s moving slowly, agonizingly slowly. Just as you’re about to let out a sigh of disapproval loud chatter and laughter piling from the front door makes you pull back. You’re moving so hastily that you almost end up falling, thankful for Jamie’s quick reflexes grabbing your arms and steadying you. But he understands the message behind what you just did and lets go of you, shoving his hands into his pockets to try to seem like they weren’t just all over you a couple seconds later. 

“There you are.” 

It’s Roope and for the first time in your life you wished he wasn’t there. You loved him with your whole heart. You would do anything for him. But you really wished he was back inside being asked a million questions about hockey. He’s with Miro who is still chuckling about something that had been said before they came outside.

“Hey,” you say to him, smiling softly. 

“Some of us are going back to Tyler’s place for a few drinks after, do you want to come?” Roope asks you. You know if you said no it would be no problem, that Roope would happily go home with you and watch movies on your couch. But before you can think about what you’re doing you turn around to look up at Jamie, to see if he was going. You knew how it looked but you were already preparing yourself to brush it off, to say it was just a friendly thing, seeing if Jamie was going. Nothing more. 

“I’ll probably go for a bit,” Jamie says to the group but you know the words are directed at you.

You look back to Roope, waiting a couple seconds. You didn’t want to seem too eager to follow up Jamie’s answer with a yes. “Yeah, could be fun,” you tell him casually. 

And so a couple hours later you’re standing in Tyler’s kitchen with a can of cider in your hand, the second since you got there. Between that and the three glasses of wine at the event you were feeling a little bit of a buzz. And a little buzz always came with a lot of confidence. 

So you excuse yourself from the conversation you were having, walking over to where Jamie was leaning against the doorframe. “Want to go outside…again?” You ask him simply. 

Jamie smiles and nods in the direction of the front door, waiting for you to begin walking towards it before following after you. Before you’re even outside Jamie has his jacket off, sliding it over your shoulders as you step outside. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper once the door is closed. 

“Right here?” Jamie asks, wanting to make sure you were absolutely certain about the risk you were about to take. Knowing that at any moment Roope could, and would, be coming to find you. But he seems to have no qualms about it as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t want to wait any longer, Jamie. I wanted you to kiss me that first day we met.”

So he does as you ask, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. He’s gentle, just like his personality but you have a sneaking suspicion that he might be a little less gentle if you made it clear that’s what you wanted. So you bring your hand around the back of his neck, pushing your body into his. He brings one arm around your lower back, supporting you as you teeter around in an effort to be taller. 

Breathless and flushed you pull back from him, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “I think it’s time for me to go home now,” you whisper. 

“Why’s that?” Jamie asks, his hands still on your waist. 

“That’s all I really came here for,” you tell him, leaning up to press your lips to his again, a quick, gentle kiss this time. You pull away and take a step back, his hands falling from your body. 

Just as you turn around to go back inside, to find Roope, to tell him you were going to get an Uber to go home, Jamie’s hand wraps around your wrist. He pulls you back gently, hand sliding on the side of your face, tipping your head back to kiss you again. The feelings it evokes are even stronger than the first kiss and it feels like every nerve in your body is firing, body hot and tingly as he kisses you passionately. “Let me take you out, on a date,” he whispers as he pulls back. 

All you can manage to do is nod. Pulling your phone from your pocket you get Jamie to give you his number, sending him a text right there so he has yours. Then you walk back inside, leaving Jamie outside. 

By the time you find Roope and you’re back outside to get in your Uber Jamie is gone. You don’t know if he’s back in Tyler’s place or if he’s gone home too. You don’t worry too much about it thought. Because this time you were pretty sure there would actually be another time. Unlike the first meeting, the empty promise of another movie night, this felt much more concrete. 

And concrete it was. Jamie had sent you a text the next morning, asking when you were free. You didn’t want to seem too eager so you told him that you were free three nights from that day even though you were free that very night and the night after as well. You two went for dinner, then you went back to your apartment and watched a movie. 

After that first date you two both realized that you were truly good with each other. Your conversations flowed easily and you spent so much of the night laughing. You simply enjoyed being together. 

So you continued going on dates, for many weeks, months, without telling anyone about it. Neither of you brought up the fact that you were hiding the relationship. It was an unspoken truth. Because you both had a lot to risk. You both had made a promise to Roope. That you weren’t going to give the other a chance and neither of you wanted to own up to breaking that promise. 

It was a Friday night and the Stars had just won a home game, a game that you were in the arena to watch. Because Roope asked if you wanted to go, as he often did. But you couldn’t deny that you spent a lot of that game watching Jamie, drawn to him even from such a distance. 

Usually you went back to Roope’s place after games, having been given a key to his apartment long ago. He always said it was easier for you to just go straight there but you always figured it was part of his ploy to keep you away from the guys. A hunch that was confirmed when he gave you instructions for where to meet him after the game if you wanted to hang around and wait for him before heading out. 

So you followed his instructions, a little uncertain as you made your way from your seat and past the doors you always left after a game. You made your way to where Roope had told you, pulling out your phone and trying to look busy, like you belonged where you were. 

A couple minutes later you sense someone is looking at you and you look up, seeing Jamie approaching you with a smile. “Hey,” he says, glancing around before placing his hands on your waist, leaning down. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, panic in your eyes and in your voice. “Jamie we’re going to get caught.”

“Roope takes forever,” Jamie informs you, trying to sound reassuring. “He said you were here tonight, I was hoping you would still be here.”

Leaning up you press your lips to his softly. “Oh, so you came out here looking for me then?” you tease. 

“Of course,” he tells you. “Are you going to go hang out with Roope tonight?”

Pulling back a little you shrug your shoulders. “It’s usually what we do, but we didn’t talk about it.” You glance behind you before looking back up at Jamie. “Should we go back to my place instead?”

“You and Roope?” Jamie asks with a teasing smile. 

Shaking your head you lean back towards him, onto your tip toes. “You know I meant with you,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you back quickly, both of you so caught up in each other that you were quickly losing your motivation to stay away from each other any chance a person might catch you. 

But of course the second you let your guard down the slightest bit it all comes tumbling apart. 

“Mitä vittua?” 

You almost push Jamie away with how quickly you try to get away from him, wide eyes finding Roope. You knew it was him. From the language, both Finnish and the exclamation of ‘what the fuck?’. You’re standing speechless, simply staring at him. 

“You promised,” Roope says, shaking his head. “You both did.” And with that he turns away from you, heading in what you assume was the direction of the way out. 

“Roope,” you call, pushing past Jamie as you follow after him. “Please, wait, can you please just slow down. We need to talk about this.”

“No, Y/N,” Roope says, getting to the door. You were pretty sure he may have just clocked the record for fastest exit. He finally turns around when his hand is on the door. “You promised me.”

“I didn’t know,” you plead, shaking your head. “I didn’t know he even liked me, I didn’t think anything would happen.”

“I just need to go home.”

The way he says it makes your heart ache. You know it means he doesn’t want you to go with him. You can feel your eyes filling with tears and you try to blink quicker, to hide the tears. 

But Roope sees it. Sees your tears. And he can’t handle that, can’t leave you upset. So he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. “Please don’t be mad. I really like him,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

Roope takes a deep breath, you can feel it in the way his chest heaves against you. “I just wished you hadn’t lied to me. Wished you both hadn’t lied to me. How long has this…what is it?”

“Hm?” You hum in confusion, pulling back to look into Roope’s eyes. 

“You and Jamie, what are you two?”

You stare over up at Roope in silence. “I…,” you begin, trailing off. “I don’t know.”

“How long?”

“Not long,” you tell him honestly. “Casino Night.”

Roope nods slowly, processing what you had told him. “You’ve been seeing him for months?”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to go home with him?”

You stare at Roope, eyes filling with tears again. “I don’t know,” you croak. You didn’t know how to answer that. It’s what you had been planning but you didn’t want to say that, didn’t want to make the situation worse. “Roope, I can’t…I can’t lose you.” You knew what you said to Jamie, that nothing could ever come between you and Roope. But now, being faced with reality, you couldn’t push those fears out of your mind. Because on the list of your biggest fears losing Roope was right up there at the top. 

Roope quickly pulls you back into a hug. “Never.”

You sniffle quietly, nodding. “You’re just going to go home?”

Roope pulls back and you notice his eyes are no longer on you, looking over you down the hallway. Slowly you turn around, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jamie. He looked hesitant, uncertain. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You look back at Roope, eyes pleading for him to reassure you that he wasn’t upset. But he doesn’t. He simply pulls away from you, turning around and heading out through the door, leaving you alone. 

You bring your arms around you, hands clutching at your arms. A few minutes later Jamie is in front of you, quickly pulling you into a hug. “It’ll be okay. You said yourself you’re never going to lose him.”

You nod, letting yourself relax into him. 

“Don’t know if he’ll be my biggest fan from now on though,” Jamie jokes. 

You let out a relieved breath of laughter, glad that he was breaking the intensity. “As long as you don’t hurt me you have nothing to worry about,” you tease, pulling back to look up at him. 

“I could never.”

His answer doesn’t feel like a joke and your breath catches in your throat at the sincerity of it. You had been trying to lighten the conversation but you didn’t know if you could make another joke after that. “Should we…”

“Get out of here?” 

“Yes,” you answer, eagerly. 

You kick off your shoes when you’re in Jamie’s apartment, pressing your back to the wall as you watch Jamie take off his own. “You think he’s going to be okay…with this?”

Jamie looks up from where he had focused his attention on his shoes. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. Stepping in front of you Jamie places his hands on your hips. “If he doesn’t…”

You swallow heavily, your hands sliding up Jamie’s arms. “Jamie,” you whisper. 

He nods and you know the smile on his lips is forced. “I know.”

“It’s not that I don’t care about you. I really, really like you. But he’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember and I can’t…I don’t think I could handle losing him.”

Jamie pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I understand.” 

“I’m sorry,” you croak. You wished it didn’t have to be like this and you really wished you didn’t have to say it out loud, didn’t have to tell Jamie that he would always come second to your friendship with Roope. 

“Don’t be.” Jamie’s voice is gentle and genuine. You know he’s not lying, that he truly doesn’t want you to be sorry. He’s not upset, it was no no surprise. Anyone who knew you, knew you and Roope’s relationship would know that nobody would, or could, ever come between you two. But it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you look back up at Jamie your eyes are watery, vision blurry. “Come here,” Jamie whisper, pulling you into his chest, large arms wrapped firmly around your body. “Let’s go watch a movie,” Jamie suggests, hands sliding down from your back to the backs of your thighs, leaning down and scooping you off the ground. 

“Jamie,” you giggle, legs wrapping around his torso as you clutch onto him. “Put me down.”

“No,” Jamie chuckles, turning around with you in his arms. 

While you felt that it was entirely unnecessary for him to be carrying you around you were pretty grateful that he had done something, anything, to break the tension, to make you laugh. “What are we going to watch?” You ask as Jamie carries you the short distance to his living room, leaning down and setting you down on the couch. 

“Your choice,” Jamie tells you, handing you the remote. “What do you want for snacks?”

Smiling softly you feel your eyes fill with tears again. You knew you hadn’t been with Jamie long enough to let it get between you and Roope. But things were going so well between you two. He was so considerate, so kind. But he was also fun and he was constantly making you laugh. 

“What are you thinking?” Jamie enquires, giving up on the movie and snacks for the time being as he sits beside you. Jamie reaches over, taking your hand and gently running his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“It doesn’t matter. I just really like you. There’s nothing we can do about it right now,” you say quietly, blinking rapidly. 

Jamie slides his arm around you, tugging you onto his lap. “We’ll figure it out.” You knew it was a lie. It was Roope who was going to figure it out. But you liked the reassurance regardless. 

Sliding one of your legs over Jamie’s lap you pull back slightly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Jamie kisses you back but you can feel that he’s hesitant. Everything feels slower than normal that night.

Jamie slides his warm hands underneath your shirt, his skin rough in contrast to your soft skin. He pulls gently on your lower back, bringing your body closer to his. You don’t think it’s possible to get any closer as your hands grasp at him, his biceps, shoulders, sliding up to the back of his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Please, Jamie, I need you,” you whisper against his lips, hips grinding down into his. 

And that’s all it takes. He has his hands behind your knees, gently sliding you off his lap. Before you know it Jamie is guiding you to his bedroom. 

“You’re sure?” Jamie whispers when you’re in the bedroom, his hands on your waist as he guides you over to the bed. “Tonight?” He clarifies, wanting you to consider the ramifications of this. Given everything that happened that night, given the fact that you had already admitted that you would end things with him if Roope couldn’t accept it. 

“Yes.”

The next morning you wake up tucked beneath Jamie’s arm, your head on his chest, leg over top of his. For a split second you forget. You forget about the night before. You forget that your relationship could potentially be coming to an end very soon. But it all comes back to you and you roll over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. 

Your movement causes Jamie to stir and he follows your direction, rolling onto his side and wrapping his free arm around you. “Good morning,” Jamie whispers, his voice filled with a sombreness that makes it evident that he hadn’t for a moment forgotten. 

“‘Morning,” you whisper, turning your head to look at Jamie. “What do we do now?”

Jamie takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. He seems to be thinking for awhile. “Go out for breakfast, probably.”

You stare at him blankly for a couple minutes. It was such a simple answer. So simple and yet so surprising. “Okay,” you eventually say. 

Shortly after you’re sitting across from Jamie at a small cafe, a cup of coffee in front of you and your breakfast orders already taken by the waitress. “Roope texted me,” you say, hesitantly. You didn’t want to ruin the morning, but it was something that needed to be addressed. 

“What did he say?” Jamie is fidgeting with the edge of the napkin wrapped around his cutlery. 

“Just that he wants to talk.” Before you even think through what you’re doing you reach across the table, grabbing Jamie’s hand. “I’ll go over to his apartment after breakfast.”

Jamie nods, squeezing your hand gently. “Whatever you decide, I’ll understand,” Jamie tells you.

And after that you leave any talk about Roope about the potential end of the relationship behind. You move on, to other topics. You talk about work and hockey and you tell him about the drama in your workplace and he listens intently. He cracks jokes and makes you laugh. And it’s three hours before you actually leave the cafe. 

Jamie drives you to the arena where your car was from the night before and you head to Roope’s apartment. The drive seems to go on forever, your nerves building with each passing minute. 

Half an hour later you’re sitting on Roope’s couch, legs pulled up to your chest as you stare at him. “I’m sorry, Roope. I’m sorry I lied to you but I’m not sorry that I’ve been seeing Jamie,” you begin. 

Roope is quiet, elbows on his knees as he leans forward, eyes on the ground. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Once he looks up you shrug. There was no easy answer. You were confused, conflicted. You were scared. Scared that Roope wouldn’t approve. Scared that you would end up in this exact situation. “I knew you would tell me it couldn’t happen.”

“You don’t know that-.”

“Yes, I do,” you exclaim. You weren’t about to let him sit there and tell you he would have just let it happen. “You’ve never approved of a single guy I was seeing. You made me promise and now I wished I had never agreed. I wish I could go back to that day and tell you the truth, Roope. Tell you that you have no right, you have no right to tell me who I can and can’t see. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I love you. I trust you. But none of that means you get to tell me who I’m not allowed to date.” Even you’re shocked by the outburst but the way Roope physically recoils in his chair tells you that it was the last thing he was expecting. 

“I-,” Roope begins, falling speechless. “You’re right,” he eventually mutters. “I just, I don’t want you to get hurt. What if something happens? How am I supposed to deal with that?”

“You don’t need to deal with it,” you tell him. “If something happens then that’s between Jamie and I, you won’t be involved. We’re adults, we’ll figure it out ourselves.”

Roope groans, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Why him? Of all people…why him?” Roope whines, making you giggle. 

“Because he’s sweet and funny and so hot.”

“Gross,” Roope mutters, turning his head to look at you. “Will you promise me something?”

“What is it?” The last promise he had you make regarding Jamie didn’t go so well. 

“You won’t talk about how hot he is again.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” you laugh. 

Roope chuckles and you can feel the tension in the room dissipating. You weren’t naive enough to think that he was completely okay with it. But you were okay with that. You were okay with him needing time as long as it meant that he wasn’t giving you an ultimatum to end things with Jamie. You knew it was all you could ask for right now and you were happy enough just with that. 

[sabraeal]

Age of Reason, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Supernatural AU

The looming wrought-iron glares down at him; even choked with briars, it stands as proud as any guard, denying him entrance with a glance. She’d gotten in, she said, and out again even quicker. It’s possible. He just has to find the way.

His shoulders twitch, unimpressed.There’s a reason he wears gloves.

One hand wraps around a twisted bar, and a briar pierces through the leather like it’s paper. He recoils with a hiss, and to his extreme displeasure, the needle comes with him, broken right off near the glove.

He’s had worse splinters-- hell, he’s had worse stabs, but the thing’s hard to find even with the moonlight behind him. His head and shoulders keep falling into the worst angle, casting shadows shadows no matter which way he turns, leaving him to work half blind as he tries to pull it out. It makes it worse of course, each movement of his muscles sends the thing dancing around his palm, probing deeper into his flesh until he tears it out.

These damned gloves are supposed to protect him, but blood coats them still, shimmering black in the moonlight. He gives them a real contemplative look, some real consideration, and then cusses a streak so blue fire would be jealous. Damn that woman. If she’d gotten in, she owes him the professional courtesy of telling him how. He has half a mind to stomp right back to that tavern and shake her till she spills her secrets.

He takes a breath, holds it. It’s fine. This is far from the worst job he’s ever done.

The thing slides across the packed dirt, sand and scree skittering beneath its bare skin. It’s a woman in shape, diaphanous nightrail clinging so scandalously to its curves that wives clap hands over wandering eyes. She would have been a pretty girl in life, but in her undeath, she makes more than a convincing monster.

He stands in the holy circle of the Heavenly Maiden, salt staining his hands, and it hisses at him, back arched like a cat’s. Red stains its front, dribbling from full lips down to soak her gown.

“Kurei!” The name catches on the wind, already torn away. The mayor clutches at his door, lifting a hand to point through his wards. “It’s her-- the demon--”

“I know.” It’s an effort to lift the words out of a deadpan. “She’s no match for me.”

The spirit cocks its head; he knows that angle too well, the one that says, oh you think so? He lifts his shoulders, a subtle shrug. No hard feelings.

Her claws clench in the dirt. Ah, he’ll pay for that little line later. Already he’s at a disadvantage-- a full moon might have shone through, but with a chunk shaved from one side he’s stuck waiting for the wind to hurry it all along while he stands here, stalling.

His breath mists in the night air. Just one of the hazards of the job.

“You’re trapped in here with me, spirit.” In the dark, its hair is coarse, thick and black, rippling with each breath. The perfect hand-hold, should it dare tread close enough. “Your fight is with me!”

He grins as it growls, edging around his circle of salt. It follows, mimicking his movements, it on all fours and him on the balls of his feet. Already his cheek stings-- its limbs are long and strong but he didn’t expect the elbow to be so sharp-- but he doesn’t lift a hand to rub at it. Each moment here is the space between victory and condemnation, and he has none of them to spare.

Finally, the clouds part.

“I have you, beast!” Around him, the circle flares to life, the pure light of the heavens infusing it, glowing with an intensity would blind to those outside it. “Tempus fugit! Sapere aude! Ad meliora!”

For a moment its body leaps into the air, lunging for him, trying to tear his throat, but in the next it’s thrown to the ground, as if grabbed by heaven’s hand itself. With his last words still echoing in the square, the spirit spasms, voice railing to an unholy keen.

“Erat ergo sum! Quid pro quo!” He calls out, shaking holy water over it, black and red spotting her as he washes away its monstrous desires. “Non ducor duco!”

It gives a single, great heave of its body, and suddenly she’s limp, no longer a vengeful spirit but a girl once more. A mere husk that once held life. Mist rises from the circle as he lifts her body, curling coolly around his fingers.

“Caveat.” The night carrying his voice further than any earthy words should-- “Emptor.”

The villagers all peer out their windows, the more daring of them peeking out doors. Now that the danger’s over, everyone wants to see the monster hunter and his prey. He’s heard plenty talk about the noble nature of man, but none of them know the truth-- when fear strips away all else, it’s only cowardice and curiosity that remain.

“Kurei,” creaks the mayor. “What--?”

“It’s over,” he announces. “I must bring the corpse away from here, and bury it.” With a dark look, he adds, “Alone.”

He turns his back on them, letting the moon burn away the mist he leaves behind.

The barmaid here is all curves, coarse tawny hair tumbling down her back, meant to draw the eye straight to her swinging hips. A tempting morsel; at least by the way the men here follow her with their gaze, hungry for more than ale. The barman must have tripled his profits having a girl like her on; there’s no limit to drink a man can have while he’s thirsting with his eyes.

But not Shuuka. His stare is fixed right across the table, brows drawn tight in thought. “That’s some story, mister.”

“And all true.” He waits until the man takes a good, long draught from his cup to add, “I earn my keep traveling, finding spirits to soothe and monsters to cull. Or maidens to save, when the situation demands it.”

“Just maidens?” The barmaid sidles up to him, a frothing mug in hand, and already his mouth is watering. “Or are you looking to expand your repertoire?”

He lets his lips lilt into a leer. “I’m willing to help with any problem that needs solving, maiden or--” he lets his gaze rake up her-- “otherwise. Provided I’m welcome.”

Her own mouth is a mirror of his own. “You seem the sort to always be finding doors open, if you don’t mind me saying, mister.”

“Ah.” He hums, leaning close. The other men in the pub lean in too, faces ripe with envy. “That’s the trick of it-- I wait to be asked.”

Amusement flickers through her eyes, as amber as his own. She sets the mug in front of him, its thick head sloshing over the rim. “Here you are, on the house.”

The maid casts one last, linger look over at him, all hooded. The sort that says he could find more than a drink on the house if he played his cards right. And here’s him, a man who never lost a hand.

“So that’s what brings you here?” Shuuka says, voice tight. Nerves, he thinks, the sort a rational man might have in the face of the unknown. “Sh-- the prince’s mistress?”

Ah, or maybe that’s guilt, he’s hearing. “So it’s true, then? There’s a girl sleeping in that manor house?”

Shuuka’s fingers clench, knuckles white where they lay on the table. “If it was...?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, just waits.

Dark eyes lift, glimmering as they meet his. “You could do something about it?”

He lets his mouth ease, swallowing down the victory in his throat. “I can’t do anything that would hurt.”

For a long moment, Shuuka sits still. Not the sort that comes from fear or hope but indecision. A man on a precipice.

And oh, how easy it is to see when they jump. “What’s your name? What do they...” He hesitates, swallowing. “What do they call you?”

“Lots of things. Jack of all trades, for one,” he hums, settling back in his seat. “Monster Hunter. Miracle Man. Savior.”

Shuuka’s brow draws tight. “You’re some kind of...priest?”

“Oh, no.” He lets his eyes linger when the barmaid bends at the waist, leaning over the counter to talk to the barman. “Not that. But you can call me...Nanaki.”

There’s a tree.

He surveys the old gnarled grandfather, its thinning leaves rustling in the wind, a single branch hunched over the briars. He should have guessed; it wasn’t like she was going to get her hands dirty and bleeding to take a look at a dead girl.

His hands flex, the leather around them creaking. His palm aches when he presses it to the trunk-- that’ll teach him to get impatient-- but he knows how to climb without relying on his grip. It’s nothing to shimmy right up, soles planted solid on grandfather’s inquisitive arm. He’d call this sloppy-- nobles often were, thinking that guards and dogs and a lady’s scream could keep them safe-- but...

Ten years. Plenty of time for even a well-trimmed tree to insinuate an elbow where it didn’t belong. Especially one that looked as nosy as this old grandfather did.

He edges out, the branch solid beneath his feet. Each step is inquisitive; impatient he may be, but enough tumbles from too high had taught him the value of respecting nature’s limit. The last thing he needs is for this to break over one of those fleur-tipped spears. Career limiting, his old master used to tell him, followed by one of those hideous braying laughs.

Dead was his preference. He might make his money putting on a show, but it didn’t serve to forget that some finales were final.

The branch bows beneath his feet, those iron-tips scraping at its bottom. Looks like he’s ridden this particular pony as far as it’ll go. With a breath and a wish, he leapt from the tree, tumbling down, down--

His feet catch, hard earth beneath them. No, stone, since his foot slips, nearly spilling him straight into a knot of brambles. Pretty ones, at least, dripping with roses as bright as an apple’s skin.

He whistles, plucking a petal off one. “Well now,” he breathes, letting it flutter away in the wind. “Isn’t that lucky.”

Cat calls and wolf whistles cleave through the din when the barmaid wraps her fingers around his wrist, leading him away from the table. There’s glares too, envy making eyes dark as he passes. There will be men who hate him in the morning for no other reason than he had what they couldn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Fine by him, anyway. Angry men are easy to predict-- they only want to do what will cause the most pain. It’s the ones that cheer him on that are dangerous; they need to be courted, molded.

Shuuka is neither. Curious.

“Hey, hero,” the barmaid purrs, pressing her body against his. “Keep your eyes where they belong.”

By the swing of her hips, she means on her. Well, it’s certainly not a bad view.

She sashays up those last few steps, shoving him into a room--

Torou’s smile is gone the moment the latch catches. “You are on your own with this one. I am out.”

Leaving Oberwald takes an extra day; the villagers keep him plied with ale until he tumbles into bed. When he wakes while the sky’s still moonless and dark, two sets of hands rubbing down his chest. Who is he to deny himself a reward so justly earned?

Still, waiting makes the spirits restless.

“Serves you right,” he grouses, rubbing at the new lump dulling the sharp edge of his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to make it look good, not actually hit me!”

The spirit folds her arms across her chest-- or under it, rather, framing their best asset when it comes to fooling these bumpkins. A barmaid with big tits never fails to turn heads, and should someone get suspicious of the girl who disappears when the evil spirit does, well-- no one can pick her face from a crowd.

“Oh, complain, complain.” The huff she lets out doesn’t even have a hint of remorse. “I’m sure you got those village girls to kiss it all better.”

He can’t help his grin. “Two of ‘em.”

“Ugh.” Her eyes roll, the kohl still clinging to the corner of them. It’s the most stubborn part of the makeup, but Torou makes do; by the next town she’ll have wings drawn on so sharp they could cut a man’s throat. “How is it you get to bed down with every miss looking for a good time, but I can only look at all those strapping young farm boys?”

“Pitchforks. Torches,” he reminds her. “Us, running away in the middle of the night...”

No one remembers the barmaid, except for an angry wife. And they know how to drum up some bloody-minded friends once night falls. That’s another thing that makes the spirits angry, but well, that’s not his problem. Maybe if they were more circumspect, they could tumble a few village boys-- or girls-- if they liked.

“Fine,” she mutters, itching at her neck. Some red flakes off, falling to the dirt below, lost beneath the tread of their boots. “Where to next?”

He’d thought he’d been mulling it over still, but the second she asks, it’s the answer at the tip of his tongue. The only one.

“Nowhere that needs a drowned girl!” Torou warns him, pitch raising to one that would make dogs howl. “My ears still don’t feel right after the last one...”

“Clarines.”

She scuffs to a halt. “Clarines? The ‘realm of reason?’ That Clarines?”

He doesn’t stop, just shortens his stride as he puts a jaunty skip in his step. “The very same.”

Her steps start again, hurrying to keep pace with his. “Why? I thought they were enlightened out there. Above all this folk talk.”

“No one is, if we play them well enough.” He slides her a sly smile. “And we will.”

“Best of the best,” she agrees. “So what’s the score?”

His grin pulls wide. “I hope you have your kissing lips ready. We have a princess to awaken.”

His hands fly up between them, trying to ward off her waggling finger. She’s carrying five knives at minimum, but of all the weapons on her body, that finger scares him the most. “Torou, come on--”

“Don’t you ‘come on’ me, Nanaki.” She doesn’t need a steel when her tone’s already so pointed. “I’m not going back there, not even if you beg me. Not even if you drag me. I’ll gnaw off my own leg if you try.”

“Torou, what--?” She shifts, just enough for him to see the wide stretch of her eyes, pupils blown and white all around the rim. “Are you...scared?”

“Scared? Scared?” Torou laughs, wild. “I’m terrified. We’ve played a lot of games, but this, this-- this curse thing, it’s real.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he huffs, leaning against a bedpost. “You know that’s not true. We’ve been running this grift for how long now, and the only supernatural thing out there is how easily everyone will believe it.”

“Listen, that’s what I thought. That’s what I always thought, you know that.” Her voice trembles, shoulders hunching around her chest. “But I went there. I went right into that manor to case the joint-- I knew there’d be stuff in there, stuff we could sell and get out of this rat race.”

His jaw slackens. They’d never talked about that, about what could lie at the end of a real good grift, of what they would do if they had enough coin to stop. He hadn’t even known she’d wanted to, let alone that she--

“I went in there,” she murmurs, rounding into herself. “And someone-- someone screamed.”

He licks his lips, brain jittering with the thought of this ending, or having somewhere to stop. “Screamed?”

“Don’t laugh.” Torou’s voice barely wavers above a whisper. “Someone screamed, and I-- I went to find them. Maybe some kid got in there and broke a leg. I could get some credit you know, really get those bumpkins eating out of my palm. But I walked in and--” she chokes, fingers clawing at her throat-- “there was blood, so much blood, just covering the floor, and then--”

Her breath fills his ears, so harsh, so pained. He’s only heard her like this once, back before, and his blood runs cold.

“And then.” Her hand comes out to grip his wrist, drawing him into her terrified gaze. “It sounded like someone was dying.”