#But who knows maybe his isolation will chip away at him hmm

[sysig]

Hey there! Here to make my second request!

Naga Scri and Cleric Edgar. The prompt is Conversion. It's said that some Naga's are worshipped as deities and that definitely seems like something Scriabin would be into, specifically of Edgar. And it always seems to be a point of contention between them. Scriabin just wants Edgar to rely on him alone. lol The perks of worship are a secondary benefit.

Anyways, good luck! I'm excited to see what you come up with.

Day 10 - Allegiance

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[seraphdarlimg]

wish I were (pt3)

 harry appreciates reader in his speech but finally talks to her when she runs off crying

part 1

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST, swearing WORDCOUNT - 3,501

_________________________________________________________

   My head was empty while I appreciated the company of a glass of wine and city view of the venue. I leaned against the railing of the small balcony nook I found, away from the crowd of people as Bowie was played faintly through the speakers.

I arrived to the party alone. Even if our relationship is awkward at the moment, I couldn't miss his birthday. Especially if it feels like it would be the last one I attend for a while. It took me only a few seconds to find him talking to his management team, a conversation that I didn't want to interrupt. And for the next twenty minutes I find myself isolated from everyone. Maybe because I know the relationship topic would inevitably come up at one point during any conversation I join into. But also because I didn't know how to approach Harry himself anymore. I can't bring myself to start the conversation, but for him, it seems like everything is good and normal.

I promised myself to only one glass of wine, so when I finished that rather quickly then intended, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. As much as I've been trying to think like Harry and feel completely normal again, I hated how much our relationship has effected me. No matter how many times I've told myself that it's better this way, I've avoided hanging out with mutual friends to keep away from a conversation about Heather.

I took a deep breath and turned around, looking into the venue to catch Harry smiling and nodding to Gemma. One arm across his chest while his cheek rested against the other. He looked too good this evening, wearing a worn vest and matching bell bottom pants. I allowed myself to stare till his eyes glanced in my direction and catch mine.

I soften when his smile grows wider and he excuses himself away from the conversation. "For some reason, I'd knew you'd come here when we checked out the space." He says as he walks out into the balcony. "Almost had a reservation sign put up with your name on it."

He engulfs me in a hug, nuzzling his face into my neck. I slowly wrapped my arms around him and find myself resting my head on his broad shoulder when I realize this was our first hug in weeks. Oh how much I missed this feeling.

"I appreciate the thought but damn, am I thought obvious?"

"Oh I just know you too well and you love me for it."

I feel goosebumps, finding ourselves though pulled away, still in each other's arms while I smile up at him. I hummed In response before holding up a finger and turning to get the small box in my purse. When I turn back around he has a sly smirk on his face as he looks at the box wrapped with a yellow bow I hold out to him.

"Happy birthday Harry. I wanted to give this to you in person." He takes the box and unwraps the ribbon and opens it. I hold my breath, watching his reaction as he stares at a familiar string of pearls. He runs his fingers through them, a look of admiration set on his face as I twiddled my fingers.

"I always let you wear mine so I just thought you'd like a pair of your own."

"You know me well too."

"And you love me for it." I chuckled, immediately turning around and looking out onto the view as he situates himself next to me, the box once again closed and held tightly in his hands. "I'll wear these till I wear them out. Oh! We'll wear them at the same time like friendship necklaces." He tells me, giving me a side hug and squeezing my arm.

I laughed at the thought, "Only we could make friendship necklaces out of pearls worth hundreds of dollars."

We stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's company. The elephant in the room knows it's been a few weeks since the last time we shared a moment alone. I'm just not sure how he feels about the reason why.

"Shouldn't you go back out there? Supposed to be a good host." I nudged his shoulder with mine, not wanting to take him away from his party and not knowing how much I could take how hard my chest is beating at the same time.

"Well you're here. Almost thought you wouldn't show since you're weren't early."

"Can't I be fashionably late for once?"

"Glad you are though, bubs. Honestly was about to spend the night a sad man when Heather canceled."

Here we go, the one topic I dreaded would come up. Of course it would be with him when it does. "Oh. Uh she isn't here?"

"No yeah she ehm. She left yesterday for Paris. Last minute gig she booked." He shrugged it off like it was not a big deal, but he's playing with the yellow ribbon in a way that tells me otherwise.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure she'll make it up when she get's back." He scoffs, undoing the bow he just made with the ribbon. "If by 'make up' you mean a few hours in bed before she jet sets to Milan for a few months then yeah."

"Harry, you should tell her that you want her here."

"No, no it's fine. She can do whatever she wants, it's her career."

"It's also your birthday. Shouldn't girlfriends or whatever you two are right now care about that stuff?" I sighed, gently taking away the ribbon and box from him, wrapping it back while he turns and rests his back on the railing, crossing his arms and facing the entrance back into the venue. "That's the thing, I don't know what she wants out of this. I never did even when we were really together. When we were, it's so picture perfect and then when we'd get busy with our own lives, it's just so on and off. We blamed it on bad timing and long distance in the end but now that I think about it, we didn't know where to go from there."

"Do you know what you want now?"

"I think I do."

I tilted my head, growing frustrated but kept my tone calm. "Then why don't you just talk?"

"Ugh you know I'm not a confrontational person bubs." He finally looks at me, seeing me roll my eyes while he laughs it off. I shake my head, tapping on the box as he reaches out to rub my arm. "You're a dummy, Harry."

"Why do you call me that?"

I glanced at him, shrugging. "What do you mean?"

"What happened to 'H' hmm? Been calling me Harry for a while." Though his tone was lighthearted, his brows are furrowed and I can feel his intense stare.

"It's your name isn't it?"

"Obviously, but...I don't know, never mind-"

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." We suddenly hear from inside, making us both turn at the same time to see Jeff holding a cake and a crowd gathered around him, slowly walking towards the balcony where the birthday boy was. His smile grows back and we exchange a look before I hand him back my present and walk back in towards the celebration.

                                                           ***

"Well, I am a man of a few words... but a good comedian doesn't repeat the same joke two years in a row. Ehm, I'm gonna do what I know best which is to spew whatever I feel from in here and hope it sounds somewhat poetic." He laughs a little at his own joke, making little hand gestures and smiling when he gets the laughs and smiles back from his words. His eyes stray to the people in front of him and to the side in thought at times, but he makes the effort to look at his friends, family members and co-workers who he is ultimately grateful for. My eyes soften at his toothy grin, knowing I look like a complete fool as I stare at him in complete adoration despite it being completely obvious how enamored I am for this man.

He gives short thank you's to the his band members and relatives he's grown close too. I laugh at his awkward jokes but also the narcissistic ones he makes that boost his confidence a bit. He has one thing prepared to say for everyone that makes them melt. "Thank you Jeff for having to deal with me another year as well, while you do look after me I am always appreciative of how you act more as an old grandpa than a dude in a business suit."

"I also want to thank Heather..."

My smile dies down a bit, knowing he would want to say something about her even when she isn't here. What made my chest hurt once again was the realization that he hadn't said anything about me yet. I had anticipated it, wondering what he would say but he had skipped right over me. I placed my hand on my knee to keep it from shaking as Harry said her name instead.

"I'll just text her later but I wanted to thank her for allowing me to write about her and being an overall beautiful person."

Thinking his speech was over and accepting how little I meant to him, he finally calls my name. I froze for a bit, looking up at him to see him already looking at me. He paused a bit, an amused look on his face when he sees how caught off guard I was.

"I saved the best for last for two reasons, one because she looks adorably silly right now..." He chuckles when I save myself with an eye roll and stuck my tongue out at him.

"And two, because I knew it'll be harder for me to come up with the words to describe how important of a person you are to me."

The curiosity and need to know what he would say about me, as well as the internalized emotional stress grew. His tone was softer and he seemed more calmer than he was a few minutes ago. The sentence already began making my heart pump and ache, and the recent events that had shaken up our relationship almost thrown out the window when he continued.

"You're so good to me and I can't thank you endlessly enough for everything you've done for the past year since I hired you. Not only was it the best decision I ever made because of how talented you are, but it also gave me the opportunity to really know someone like you. I was in a bad place when you met me and I'll never forget the kindness and patience you showed me even then. And though you call me a 'boomer' so many times and constantly come up with better melodies than me, it's worth every witty joke and bad pun just to see a smile that lights up the room. Your friendship is worth every time you complain about my kale chips."

His eyes were caught on mine from the beginning, both his hands are holding his wine glass though he held confidence in his speech. It felt like just us two in the room, his words giving tone of a very intimate moment shared between two bestfriends. I bit my bottom lip, can't seeming to stop smiling.

"And though you'll be off writing more amazing music with different amazing artists - only temporarily - know that I'll always be rooting for you and always will be -"

He breaks eye contact for a moment, but that moment was enough. "- will be uhm, proud of you." His smile grows ten times wider and he sounds relieved when he looks off onto the entrance of the venue as someone arrives. His eyes go back and forth, distracted but wanting to finish what he had left to say.

"Through thick and thin, love, you always were able to be there for me."

At that point he was fully looking at the person who arrived and I didn't have the guts to turn around to see who it was. My smile instantly dies and the warmth in my chest was just filled with a familiar pang that hasn't left all this time.

Because there she was, though out of breath and all over the place, just looked perfect as she grins and mouths 'happy birthday' to him while he haphazardly continues empty compliments that are now meant for her. My vision is blurry but my eyes are stuck on the actual person he deems important in his life. This lovely being who canceled last minute but makes it in time so he'd be truly happy.

He meant to say all of it to her. You just happened to be here when she wasn't. He doesn't love you like he loves her and he never will. He never had.

It was hard looking back at him, already knowing the way he looks at her. It was deja vu. She shows up and he's instantly mesmerized.

But I did and it suddenly was all too much. Because he glanced at me when he was saying his last words, seeing me silently cry in the middle of the crowd and looking distraught. And it all grew too claustrophobic, needing to get away and leave because all I felt now was anger.

"Hey, you okay?" Gemma asks, her brows furrowed in concern. I force a smile and nodded before excusing myself. "Yeah, just fine."

                                                         ***

 I pushed open the door and quickly walked out of the lobby and onto the parking lot, ignoring the distant calls of my name that grew louder and louder. I hugged my coat, trying to breathe but grew more frustrated with the growing ache in my chest. I sobbed, knowing he was catching up and didn't have the energy to deal with him right now.

"Hey, what happened - are you okay?" Harry had took hold of my arm, turning me around and all I could do was push him away. "Bubs, talk to me please."

"Stop, please I'm so tired and I physically can't be near you." I softly said, not bothering to wipe away tears anymore. He looks confused and I only scoffed at him, crossing my arms and moving back when he stepped closer, holding out his.

"What do you mean? Please let me- you're crying." He tries coming closer but I shake my head, dodging his embrace because I knew I would instantly melt.

"Yes, I'm crying! I've been crying and hurting all month because of you Harry!" I cried and he instantly freezes. "You keep doing this shit and all this time I've been coming up with excuses for it. That- I don't know, maybe that you can't help what you're feeling or that I really can't blame you- but now I do! Because you know exactly what you're doing and it's so shitty that I had to realize it this late."

"W-what are you talking about?" He's nervous.

"Oh shut the fuck up you know exactly what I'm talking about. You've avoided actually talking ever since we kissed, even before Heather came back into the picture. You completely pushed me to the side the second she gave you her attention and ever since then our whole relationship has changed Harry! And either you're so fucking oblivious or too much of a coward to face it because you just acting like everything was fine and normal broke my fucking heart even more. It obviously meant so little to you but fuck, it-"

I took a deep breathe only resorting to another sob as I placed a hand over my heart. "It meant so much to me."

I see him crying too, fumbling with his fingers and trying to hold those tears in only to lose some as he's stood still, not knowing what to do. He's guilty, his need to hold me and cry gives it away but I couldn't allow him that. And he knows it's something he doesn't deserve.

"I would of understood Harry. That you didn't feel the same fireworks and butterflies like I did when we kissed - as cliché as it fucking is. That you've fallen in love with Heather when she came back because I honestly still can't blame you for that, she's an angel. That you can't control who you love, but you never said anything. You just lead me on and didn't talk to me - why didn't you just fucking talked to me Harry, aren't we supposed to be best friends?"

He's now only inches away from me, taking hold of my hands because I was too worn out to even pull them back. "Yes! Yes, we are and I'm a stupid idiot. I'm sorry I- I should of just been upfront with you but I was so confused- and I still am. I just- I meant everything I said earlier and more because I'm always thinking about you bubs-"

I laugh at this shaking my head, not allowing anymore hope to built up. "I am! Mitch and Jeff are so fucking tired of hearing about it, but honestly so was I. But only because Heather was still in my heart and I just didn't know what to do or wanted and please believe me, I never ever wanted to hurt you."

"Why did you kiss me then?" I broke out of his hold, stepping back once again.

"I don't know darling, It just felt right and I didn't think. I-I just thought you'd leave if you knew I wasn't sure."

"Being honest about it with your supposed best friend was going to make it worse?"

"I just...I didn't want to lose you."

"But what now? you got her back, so what am I to you now? Was I supposed to be your distraction, the only option left for you to turn to? Because you fully well know that I'd drop everything I was doing just to comfort you when you were low Harry. I canceled set plans and promises because you simply asked me too, and I did since I'd always foolishly put you first because I thought you'd genuinely liked me."

"Bubs-"

"Don't. Harry you can't just put me on the side and come back to me later on if your relationships don't work out, that's not fucking fair! Ever since we met all I've been getting from you are mixed signals and I couldn't confront you about it because you'd always avoid the topic, making me feel damn silly for even thinking that way. It's just-  you can't build up expectation of something between us simply because I'm the safe second option - fuck that hurts saying that."

"I- I didn't mean to make you feel that way-"

"Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing Harry. You're just to arrogant to own up to it. So fucking immature, all you had to do was talk!"

"Okay, okay I'm sorry let's talk, please! Don't walk away like this, we can talk now and fix this."

"No. You only want to talk now because it's convenient for you. That's the thing Harry."

"Stop-"

"You say you didn't want to hurt me, but you didn't want to hurt yourself first. And I just- I just hate how long it took me to realize how mean you are Harry."

"Don't call me Ha- you don't mean that."

"I do! and you know it too." He's struck by it and I'm giving up. Hurt is evident in his face and it doesn't feel good to make him sad, but now all I feel is disappointment and pity for myself.  

"Since you couldn't have the balls to talk to me, I just always really wanted to tell you that I love you. Really fucking love you. As if you didn't already know, but... I guess it never really even mattered."

He calls my name deflatingly when I turn around, walking away. His last attempts of apologizing and begging for me to come back to him drift off into empty words that I block out as I stepped into my car and drove away. The time it takes for me to drive felt like days pass, but now turned to seconds when I turned off the engine and idled inside. I was still crying, still processing, all while replaying our last moment together. The one spent on the floor of the recording studio with a makeshift picnic before I spend the next days erasing it from my memory.

I sent him a text before going inside, turning off my phone right afterwards to avoid the rest of the incoming calls and text messages begging to fix what was left of us.

'I'll email you the lyrics to the last song tomorrow. Then I'm done.'

____________________________________________________________

A/N: i’m hurting. but this is the second to last chapter of this mini-series, pt4 is the finale and will be out soon :)

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

immortal soul:black survival characters as john mulaney

dunno how i didn’t think of that before but

Adela: Hmm, we’re not so different, you and I. You have your law practice, and me, I have all these fuckin’ markers.

Adriana: Well here goes nothing. You ever seen a ghost?

Alex: A lot of people think that you like bulls, and if you just buh- They assume it! When you search your name, the third thing to come up is like “John Mulaney bull?”

Arda: Or if it’s one of those true or false questions, you should be able to add a third option which is “who’s to say?”.

Aya: “So you saw what happened and you did nothing?” “Yeah, ‘cause I was sitting over on the bench.” “Let me ask you this. In Nazi Germany....”

Barbara:It’s just dads, singing so loud, thinking that’ll somehow get their kids to sing.

Bernice: Let’s change the subject! Why are we even talking about Penelope, or whatever her name was? I didn’t kill her! Whoever did kill her only did it to protect her from this world!

Bianca: Remember the Psalms? They’re not songs, ‘cause they don’t rhyme and they’re not good. They’re perfectly named.

Camilo:He’s played for stadiums of 20000 people cheering to him like he’s a god, for fifty years. That must change you as a person. If you do that for fifty years you’re never again going to be like “Uhmmm, does anyone have a laptop charger I could borrow...?”

Cathy:That guy will get up there and sing into the microphone. He’s not a singer, ‘cause he’s not good at it, but he tries.

Chiara: Now I was raised Catholic. I don’t know if you can tell that from the everything about me.

Chloe: Every room she walked into, she’d be like, “So this could be an office. (shakes shoulders) Or maybe a nursery.”

Daniel: I think he was just doing that dad thing of like, “This is a weird topic and I want to talk about a book I read about World War II”. But the way it came off was that he definitely killed that little girl!

Echion:Sometimes babies will point at me, and I don’t care for that shit at all.

Eleven:Famous people are weird as shit. They’re all weird, your suspicions are correct.

Eva:Marty McFly is a 17-year-old student, whose best friend is a disgraced nuclear physicist. And, I shit you not, they never explain how they became friends. They never explain it. Not even in a lazy way like, “Hey, remember when we met in that science building?”. They don’t even do that.

Emma:My dad was so weird, I’d love to meet him someday.

Fiora:I didn’t mean to make it sound like we don’t want children. We don’t, but I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.

Hart: I love to play venues where if the guy that built the venue could see me on the stage, he would be a little bit bummed about it.

Hyejin: “All right, Petunia, wish me luck.” “(french chainsmoker voice) You will die on August 7th, 2037.” “(shrugs) That’s pretty good.”

Hyunwoo:No one cared about my opinion when I was a little kid. No one cared what I thought. Sometimes, people would say “What do you think you’re doing?”. But that just meant “stop”.

Isol: In high school people were like, “What are your top three colleges?” I was like “top three colleges? I thought I’d be dead in a trunk with my hand hanging out of the taillight by now.”

Jackie: He could look at a child and guess the price of their coffin.

If you left your baby with your mother tonight, you’re not gonna race home and check the nanny cam. But if you left your baby with Gary Busey....!

Jan:My wife and I walk around New York city, pushing Petunia the french bulldog in a stroller, and it’s a big stroller, and it has a big black hood. And people lean in to see the baby.

Jenny:Let’s say a kidnapper throws you in the back of a trunk. Don’t panic.

Johann: “Wait, so they forced you to go?” Yeah, I was five. I was forced to go everywhere. No kid is just going to church, like, riding by on his Huffy, like “Woah! What’s this place! Weird byzantine temple with green carpeting where everyone has bad breath and I wear clothes that I hate on one of my mornings of my two days off? Let’s do this!”

JP: “Okay, I think I see where you’re going here. They go back in time, and they stop the Kennedy assassination!” “Oooaaoh. That’s a really good idea. We didn’t even think of that.” “All right, well what do they do with the time machine?” “Well now I’m embarassed to say.”

Laura: My friends were all like, “Is he nice?” No! Or maybe he is, for his version of life! ‘Cause he has a very different life!

Lenox: You just showed up at 8 AM, and they were like, “Put down your stuff. Go to the gym.” And you’re like, “god, I guess they’re finally gonna kill us all, alright. This is younger than I thought I would be but we are pretty big assholes.”

Leon:I was like twelve years old and my dad walked up to me and he said, “Hello... (chuckes) Hello, I’m Chip Mulaney, I’m your father.” And then he said the following. “You know, Leonard Bernstein. Was one of the great composers and conductors of the 20th century, but sometimes he would be gay. And according to a biography I read of him, when he was holding back the gay part, he did some of his best work.”

Li Dailin: I asked my mom if she’d ever seen a ghost. That’s where we’re at conversation-wise in our relationship as a mother and son, because I’m 35 and I don’t have any children to talk about, and she doesn’t understand my career.

Luke: None of us really know our fathers. Anyway...

Magnus: She came in and she picked up the baby, and she was like “It’s okay, she’s just going through that phase where she says penis and vagina a lot”. Aren’t we all.

Mai: Why don’t you give me a candle for looking in the mirror? And a floppy hat, and I’ll tremble off to bed in my Victorian nightgown!

Nadine: Every time I go to the zoo I’m like “Hey, where’s the jaguar?”, and the zoo guy is like “oh, he must be in the inside part”. The inside part? Tell him we’re here.

Nathapon: You are gathered together as a school and you are told never to talk to an adult that you don’t know. And you are told this by an adult that you don’t know.

Nicky:That’s right- there was always assembly, and then, like, that second assembly to yell at you for how you behaved at the first assembly.

Rio:I”ll be at a wedding reception and someone’ll be like, “Heyy, you coming to the hotel bar after? We’re all gonna get drinks and keep the party going”, and I’m like “Nah nah nah sister, you’re not getting me to no secondary location!”

Rosalio: People walk around on the phone now like, “Hello hello? You still there- ugh, lost him”. And that’s it! No follow-through with that guy!

Rozzi:Yeah, he was not a “spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” kind of guy. He was more like “brush your teeth. Now boom! Orange juice! That’s life.”

Shoichi: By the way, Detective J. J. Bittenbinder wore three-piece suits. He also wore a pocket watch. Two years in a row, he wore a cowboy hat. He also had a huge handlebar mustache. None of that matters, but it’s important to me that you know that.

Silvia: Children, rather than continuing to teach you how to read, we have cleared the entire day for this random guy!

Sissela: You should be able to write in, “I don’t know. I know you told me. But I have had a very long day. I am very small, and I have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that I am under.”

Sua: Some people give off a vibe of, like, right away they’re like “Do not fuck with me”. My vibe is more like “Hey, you could pour soup in my lap and I’ll probably apologize to you!”

William: There are those guys who, they buy the cow, and then on the side, total matador, but...

Xiukai: “And when one feels like a duck, one is happy!” Now that’s debatable.

Yuki: And I have friends I went to college with, and they’re like “oh, you should donate and be a good alumnus”. And they wear shirts that say ‘school’ and it’s like, look....

Zahir: She said, “Okay, I know I don’t get this shit because I wasn’t raised Catholic, and I’m fucking glad I wasn’t because it’s a fucked up organization”, I said “nonononoo, we all know that.”

[skygirl5]

12 Prompts of Christmas - #9 Eggnog

This is a continuation of the previous chapter’s universe (behind the jump due to length) 

NINE - Eggnog

On his first morning waking up in the isolated cabin, Rick wished to sleep late, but he couldn’t because he woke up before dawn absolutely, positively freezing. His normal sleeping attire for winter was boxers and a t-shirt because he generally kept his apartment fairly warm. He’d thought the blankets on the cabin’s bed would keep him warm enough, but evidently that was not the case; all his extremities felt like ice. Rick shivered so bad he could hardly pull on his jeans and button-down from the prior day before hobbling to the potbelly stove in the main room of the cabin and fiddling with it for ten minutes before he could figure out how to get a fire going inside of it once more.

Knowing warmth would soon come, Rick grabbed a blanket and tried to lay on the couch, which was the closest place to the stove on which to lay, but he was too miserably cold to fall back to sleep. Figuring maybe an afternoon nap would be more productive, he made coffee and sat with it cradled in his hand while wearing a blanket as a cape as he tried to warm up.

Though it took an hour, the cabin soon almost became too warm, but given how cold he had been Rick chose not to mind that too much and did his best to get some writing done. He wrote a few pages, but soon found it difficult to focus, and decided to go on a walk around the lake for a distraction. He also thought perhaps he might run into Kate, the intriguing woman whose mitten he found the day before, but he sadly did not. He did bump into an older couple who had a very friendly yellow lab and chatted with them for about ten minutes, but that was all the human interaction he had.

Back in his cabin, he called Alexis once it was a reasonable hour on the west coast. Unfortunately, their conversation was quite jumbled due to very poor reception, but he was at least able to confirm that Meredith had picked her up from the airport and was taking her shopping that day.

Since speaking with his daughter reminded him once again that she was not going to be with him for Christmas, Rick distracted himself by eating the pre-made salad he’d purchased for lunch and turned back to his writing, which was actually successful that round. He found himself so “in the zone” that he didn’t even notice how late it was getting until he got out of his chair to go to the bathroom and realized most of the cabin was completely dark.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d done, Rick decided it was time to make himself dinner. He’d purchased some chicken cutlets which he planned on stir-frying and with some vegetables he purchased and so he began rummaging in the kitchen cabinets for the tools he’d need. He found a cast iron skillet and cutting board to use to prep his food. He’d purchased oil just in case the cabin didn’t have any, which ended up being a good call because he didn’t find any in the small pantry.

After pouring the oil into the skillet, he set it on the two burner stove so that it could heat up, but when he turned the knob to ignite the burner, he heard a click, but no flames appeared. Twisting his lips to the side in concentration, he crouched down and proceeded to fiddle with the knobs and burner for several more minutes to no avail; he could not get the stove to turn on.

Not too worried at that point, Rick decided that the best thing to do would be to call the cabin’s owner, Chip. He was a friendly older gentleman who had talked to Rick for nearly an hour when the cabin booking was made. Evidently the cabin belonged to Chip’s father, who was an avid fisherman. After his father passed, Chip inherited the place, but didn’t enjoy fishing as much, so he mostly rented it out. He’d told Rick not to hesitate to call if an issue arose, and Rick decided to do just that—even though it was technically Christmas Eve.

Rick walked over to where he’d left his laptop at the table. There, he’d left his phone as well as the contact information for Chip. Before he’d even begun to dial, Rick frustratingly realized his phone displayed a “No Signal” error. It hadn’t been that long since he’d spoken to Alexis, though admittedly the call had been cutting in and out at that time.

Figuring the reception had to be better outside, he put on his heavy coat and then dialed Chips number on the phone but didn’t hit the “send” button. Then, he stepped outside the cabin and was immediately knocked back by a wall of bone-chilling cold. The stinging temperature of the air was so great that he actually yelped, but then tried to recover as quickly as he could so he could get his phone call over with. Rick wandered around the area in front of the cabin for several minutes with his phone above his head waiting for the “No Signal” to vanish and bars to appear, but they never did.

Frustrated, Rick stomped out further into the yard, chasing an elusive signal. Just one bar!! He only needed one bar!!

He was about fifteen feet away from the house when he realized that small snowflakes had begun to fall from the sky above. He glanced up briefly, but that far after dusk it was almost pitch black outside. He was stumbling around only from the ambient light of the cabin’s exterior lighting, which at that distance was minimal at best. Yet, Rick remained determined to get a cell signal.

“Uhh Rick? Are you okay?” Rick heard after about seven minutes of wanting around in the freezing cold darkness.

“Wha—huh?” Startled he spun around until he saw the beam of a flashlight approaching, though due to the darkness he could not see the face of the person speaking to him.

“Are you okay?”

“I—who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman moved the flashlight beam from the ground to point straight upwards. It barely illuminated her face, but he recognized her immediately. “You found my glove yesterday; I’m-”

“Kate,” he breathed, still a bit shocked to have met up with her by the lake near his cabin. “Yeah, I remember.”

“So…are you alright? You don’t have a flashlight…”

He grumbled. “I didn’t mean to walk this far from my cabin I just—I’m trying to get some cell reception.”

She hummed. “Well, you might not have too much luck with that, especially with this snowstorm coming in.”

Rick frowned. “Oh…I…hmm…sorry,” he added quickly when he could see Kate’s brow tightening in confusion. “The stove in the cabin stopped working and I tried to fix it, but, frankly, I have no idea what could be wrong, so I thought I’d call the cabin’s owner but…”

“Right.” Kate nodded. Then, after a beat added, “I can take a look if you want. I was just taking a little walk so it’s not big deal.”

“Oh—oh!” his tone elevated with surprise when he realized she was offering to help him, a total stranger, without being asked. Then again, he had found her glove earlier, so they weren’t total strangers, just mostly strangers. “Sure. That would be—that’d be great, thank you. Thank you so much.”

She shrugged and the followed him across the crisp ground towards the cabin. “It’s not a problem. The stove my parents had for years was…something. Probably a terrible fire hazard, to be honest. I finally made my father replace it a few years ago, because I was convinced one of the times he tried to fry up one of the fish he caught the whole place would go up in smoke.”

“Fair enough,” Rick chuckled as they reached the cabin’s porch.

He led the way inside where Kate scuffed her boots against the welcome mat and unzipped her coat as she slipped through the narrow doorway. She gazed around for a moment, but then immediately walked into the kitchen on the left. “Oh, yeah, this one is just like ours—only smaller,” she proclaimed upon looking at the stove.

“So you know all its secrets,” he concluded, hopeful.

“Let’s hope so,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder before setting to work. Rick tried to ignore the tingles that smile sent down his spine as he leaned against the kitchen table, wanting to stay out of her way and feeling a bit awkward that he was unable to assist.

Rick watched as Kate checked dials and plugs and arched her body over the top of the range unit so she could presumably check the wall connection. Then with a quick, “Be right back,” she walked outside the cabin once more and he could see her walking around the house through the small window above the kitchen sink. She was outside about five minutes before she returned with a frown.

“Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Suspecting he knew the bad news, Rick concluded, “You know what’s wrong, but can’t fix it.”

Giving him a sad smile, she said, “No, I can’t. For whatever reason this stove uses a different fuel tank than the one hooked up to the water heater and furnace and that fuel tank is very empty. The owner must have forgotten to have it refilled; I’m sorry.”

Rick huffed out a breath. “Well considering its Christmas Eve I don’t think I’m going to get a fuel delivery

“No, I don’t think so.” After a moment she suggested, “You could make a fire?”

His immediate reaction was to cringe. “Ah… at the risk of sounding unmanly: I don’t know that I could successfully cook chicken that way without either burning it or giving myself food poisoning.”

She laughed and nodded, “Yeah, I guess I couldn’t either.”

They stood side by side in the tight kitchen silently for a moment before Rick said, “Well, that’s okay. I’ll just cut my trip a little short and go home first thing tomorrow morning, but I really appreciate your help, Kate.”

She stared at him for a few seconds before trapping her bottom lip between her teeth and glancing over to the kitchen counter, where his packet of chicken and vegetables were sitting beside the stove, waiting patiently for him to finish prepping them. After nearly twenty seconds of silence she finally concluded, “C’mon—grab your food; you can use my stove.”

Now taken completely aback, he held his one hand up defensively and stammered, “Oh—I—I wasn’t-”

“I know, but it’s Christmas, right? C’mon.”

Nodding, he hurried to the counter and began gathering what he could and shoving it back into the shopping bag it came from. “Thanks—thanks so much. Should we drive to your place, or…?”

She nodded. “Might as well. It’s only going to snow harder as the night goes on.”

Ten minutes later, after grabbing his food, other necessary cooking items, and his coat, Rick was following Kate’s directions to navigate his Mercedes towards her family’s cabin. The journey was short and she soon was leading the way into the warm, rustic space. Her cabin was significantly larger than the one he was renting. The living space was more expansive and from the length of the hall he could see in the rear, he guessed it had three bedrooms not just two. Unlike his cabin, which was decorated with mostly generic fishing or rustic décor, this was clearly a family cabin with knickknacks and family photos adding to the warmth.

“Oh, wow this is really nice.”

Kate shrugged as she took off her coat, “It isn’t much…mostly just a little escape.”

“Yeah, but it’s still great—homey.” He smiled at her for a few seconds then put his grocery bags down while he took off his coat, too. “Well, uh, I won’t take up too much of your time. Can I make you something, too? As a thank you.”

“Oh, um…” she hesitated for a moment then threw her hands out to the side in a ‘giving up’ gesture. “Sure, why not. I saw you had chicken and vegetables…”

“Yeah, I was going to put them all together in a stir fry.”

“I have some rice to make.”

“Perfect!”

For the next few minutes they both busied themselves in the tight kitchen. It was a delicate dance as there was not too much counter space around the stove, even though it did seem, as Kate had implied, that the space had been renovated recently. They managed it well enough, and after Kate started the rice, Rick chopped the vegetables and dumped them into the skillet before turning to the chicken cutlets and slicing them as well.

“So, tell me Kate, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a police officer.”

His brow arched as he pushed the chicken off the cutting board and into the pan. “Really? So you’re used to saving people in distress?”

She laughed airily. “Something like that.”

He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and then, after turning off the water, he told her. “I’m an author.”

“I know.”

Startled by her words, he did a double-take in her direction and nearly dropped the towel he was using to dry his hands. “You…do you read my books?”

Kate’s cheeks turned slightly pink as she confessed, “I might have skimmed through one or two.”

Assuming her dismissive comment was just meant to be a way to avoid some embarrassment, Rick smiled as he turned to their skillet meal, picked up a spatula, and began pushing around chicken and vegetable pieces so nothing burned.

So, Kate was, presumably, a fan of his books. How else would she have recognized him from just his first name? That also made sense. Since she was saving him from going hungry that evening he hadn’t wanted to question it, but he did find it slightly odd that a young woman such as herself would invite a strange man back to her cabin, which was isolated in the middle of nowhere. Maybe that was just his writer’s mind used to spinning dark scenarios but…well, thinking about his daughter, he hoped that she would not make the same decision in a similar circumstance for the sake of her safety. Finding out she was a police officer made a bit more sense; her training presumably made her feel more comfortable with self-defense, but if she knew him as a public figure, she would have been more likely to feel safe around him—not that he would have ever thought of hurting a woman, but sadly he knew that was not always the case with others.

Feeling in the mood to tease her a little bit more, he said, “So that’s why you wanted to have dinner with me? Because I’m one of your favorite authors?”

When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that she eyed him skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s what I said.”

“It was implied.”

She laughed. “I see.”

Silence hung in the air for several moments before he changed the subject with, “So you live around here?”

“No, Manhattan.”

Now even more pleasantly surprised he proclaimed, “Oh! You’re NYPD?” After she confirmed with a nod, he said, “That’s amazing. How long have you been on the force?”

“Oh, not long. I graduated the academy in August.”

“Ahh well if you’re willing, I’d be all too happy to hear all your rookie stories as we eat.”

Ignoring his question, she instead offered, “Do you need help with anything? I feel bad I’m just standing here.”

“Nonsense,” he said casually. There really wouldn’t have been room for her to join him at the stove; the space was too tight. Besides, he didn’t mind. “I really enjoy cooking; it helps me think and plan my writing usually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because it keeps my hands busy, but my mind free to wander.”

“Hmm…makes sense.”

A few minutes later their meal was complete. Rick divided the stir fry and rice between two plates and then carried them over to the small dining table tucked in the corner of the room. As he set the plates down, he noticed a photo hung on the wall of a family: a man and a woman with a young girl about seven or eight standing in between them. The photo was clearly older and faded, and both adults wore sunglasses, but the woman had long dark hair and distinctive jawline and the man lighter brown hair and a soft smile. All three wore lifejackets and the lake—presumably the one located just a few feet away—could be seen behind them.

“This is you and your parents, I assume?” he asked, thumbing towards the photo.

“Yeah.”

“Where are they at? Don’t tell me they took a tropical vacation without you?”

She gave a soft smile as she picked up her fork and began to eat. “No, nothing like that.”

“You’re lucky, though—getting Christmas off,” Rick said in between bites. He didn’t imagine that was common for a rookie officer.

“I have to work Christmas day in the evening. And…I’ll be in Times’ Square on New Year’s Eve,” she explained.

“Oh! And you’re…not excited about that?” he guessed based on her tone. She gave him a look and he let out a small laugh. “Ah, right, I suppose not.”

“It’s only supposed to be fifteen degrees out!”

He nodded, sympathetic. “I know, I know; I don’t envy you at all. I’ve done it a few times as a spectator and it was never too bad as long as I’d had plenty of alcohol to warm me up.”

“I’m sure.”

They ate quietly for several minutes before Rick asked, “Did you spend your Christmases up here when you were little?”

“Mmm no. This place was usually my dad’s escape. His father and uncles purchased it when they were all young men. Now, they’ve all passed, and the cabin became my father’s, so he’s the one with the most connection to it. We used to come up here at least one week every summer to do things with the lake and just get out of the city, but almost never in the winter.”

Rick considered her comments as he slowly chewed his meal. He wondered why, if Kate’s father was so connected to the cabin, the elder man hadn’t joined her for the holiday? Furthermore, why hadn’t her mother? Sensing the question may have been a bit too personal to ask with that moment, he decided on a slight change of subject.

“I, um, I think I need to come up with some good holiday traditions for my daughter. I used to make sure I got her picture sitting on Santa’s lap every year, but this year she outright refused because she’s figured out that Santa isn’t real, so she’s a little salty about the whole ritual and refused to humor me. That’s literally what she said to—‘Dad, don’t expect me to humor you.’”

Kate laughed. “How old is she?”

“Six.”

Kate laughed again, harder that time. “Six?!”

“Yeah: six going on twenty. I think she’s already too smart for me and I fear that will soon be a pretty big problem.”

Kate nodded. “Yeah, it might be. Where is she spending Christmas?”

Sighing, Rick set down his fork and said, “With her mother. Last year, we’d just separated, so we tried to have a joint Christmas and it…didn’t go so well.” He involuntarily shivered at the memory of the wildly inappropriate phone conversation Meredith had with her new lover during their shared meal and their fight thereafter. “So, this year we decided to split the winter holidays: I got Thanksgiving and Meredith got Christmas.”

She nodded and said, “That must be hard.”

Unable to verbalize just how much his heart was breaking, Rick tried to stay positive. “I suppose it’s unfair of me to complain. I have primary custody, so I have Alexis nearly all the time, but Christmas…it’s my favorite holiday. My favorite time of the year. What’s worse is I had to send her to California by herself. I did get to take her through security to the gate and the assigned chaperone was extremely nice and gave her a candy cane but… it was still really hard to walk away.”

“I can’t imagine,” Kate said. When he met her sympathetic gaze, Rick did have to admit to feeling slightly better. Still, his heart was heavy.

“Sorry to bring the mood down.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Finishing his glass of water, Rick continued with, “It’s, ah, why I came out here. Being in my apartment without her just felt like something that was too sad to bear.”

“I get that. It’s one of the reasons I’m not doing Christmas in the city this year.”

Surprised, his brow rose sharply. “You have a child?”

“What? No—sorry. Sorry. My mother…died.”

His eyes widened and his chest constricted with sorrow. Though he knew he didn’t do it directly, Rick did feel bad about bringing up a subject that was sensitive. “Oh—oh Kate I’m so sorry.”

One corner of her lip tugged upwards in a sad half-smile in acknowledgement of his comment. “This is the fourth Christmas without her. She, ah, died in January. Just after the holidays and…and my dad and I haven’t really celebrated since. He…we don’t even talk about it. We just don’t celebrate, which is…well, it is what it is, but being in the city makes it harder—walking past all the places where we made memories together as a family. And then this year…” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, almost as though she needed to reset herself. “The reason I even got to take off work at all was because I had to take him to rehab.”

“Oh god,” Rick sighed, now feeling even worse. There he was complaining about not getting to spend a few days with his kid, who would be back before New Years’, and poor Kate had lost one parent forever and the other was struggling to the point where he was unavailable to her as well. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Kate.”

She gave him an appreciative smile. “It’s been bad for a while. I knew it. We both knew it. He’s been trying to get a handle on it on his own and been insisting he didn’t need an in-patient program, but it just wasn’t working, you know? Finally, I got him to agree to go as a Christmas present to me. Some present,” she added wryly.

“It will be if it helps him,” Rick pointed out in a soft tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that. It’s just…hard.” She sat for another moment before pushing herself up out of her chair suddenly, walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out a cardboard carton, which she held up to him. “Want some?”

Even from that distance, Rick could clearly read the word “Eggnog” printed on the side and said, “Sure. Why not? It’s Christmas Eve.”

Kate poured two small glasses and handed him one. At the first sip he choked, his palate shocked by the alcohol, which he hadn’t expected since she poured it from a store-bought container and to his knowledge the store-bought kind was alcohol free. “Wow,” he croaked. “Your recipe could give my mother’s a run for her money.”

“Sorry—I should have warned you. I, uh, got a little heavy handed last night when I poured the whisky in the container.”

He shook his head in as an indication he didn’t mind, but he did make sure to take a more delicate sip the next time.

“So, your mother—will you see her for Christmas?” Kate asked.

“Ah, no, actually. She’s an actress and she’s touring with a holiday production. Their shows run through January second and she’ll come back home after that.”

“And your father?”

“Never met him,” Rick replied casually, taking another sip of eggnog.

Kate’s eyes widened. “Really? Never?”

Rick bobbed his head, knowing his untraditional backstory was a bit hard to process for most people. “Yeah; I don’t even know who he is. I was the, ah, product of a one-night stand.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Rick shook his head. “’s okay. I’ve had over thirty years to process it.”

“Still…to never know a parent…I can’t imagine.”

He nodded. “Most can’t—and I’m glad. It’s certainly not something I would wish on anyone, but yet it’s also something that made me who I am.”

She nodded approvingly. “That’s a very healthy attitude, Rick.”

He raised his glass in salute. “Well, thank you.”

For the next three hours they drank the remainder of the quart of eggnog and chatted about an amalgamation of subjects: their jobs, the holiday season, life. Though he didn’t exactly acknowledge it at the time, looking back Rick was almost stunned how easy it seemed to talk to her about anything. Over the course of his life, he’d found himself having quick and easy connections to people he met several times, but each one was unique in its own way. With Kate, their conversation flowed effortlessly. They bounced around to a variety of topics and then back again without feeling like the conversation was too disjointed or nonsensical. It was all smooth and connected, like she was one of his oldest friends in the world instead of a woman he’d met by pure chance the day before.

Once the eggnog was finished, Kate offered Rick some water since he was driving, but he declined when he realized how long they’d been talking. By traditional standards it wasn’t that late, but he felt as though a holiday such as Christmas Eve had an exception. He didn’t want to displace whatever existing holiday plans she had for herself that night, particularly since she was returning to work the following day.

“I appreciate it, but I really should get out of your hair.”

“Ahh, yeah okay. I…I don’t think I realized what time it was,” she said with a light laugh.

“Yeah me neither. I, um, I really appreciate you letting me use your stove.”

She nodded. “Of course. Thanks for making dinner. It was…nice to have someone to eat with.”

Smiling, he agreed with, “Same,” and then stared at her for a moment, unsure of the proper way to say goodbye. A handshake seemed far too impersonal, but would a hug be too much? Deciding he shouldn’t over think it and that it was probably okay considering the intimacy of their conversation, he stepped up and gave her a brief one-armed hug, which she thankfully reciprocated. “Merry Christmas,” he said as he backed his way to the door, where he’d left his coat.

“Yes, Merry Christmas.”

Now zipping his coat, he reached for the door handle and smiled back over his shoulder at her, “Goodnight Kate.”

“Goodnight, Rick,” she echoed. Then, with a nod of his head, he disappeared out into the freezing snow-covered night.

[reidingandwriting]

Sunflower

Word Count: ~1700 words

Ship: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mention of alcohol. Besides that, complete FLUFF

Summary: you had the power to control nature, and you were especially connected to all the trees, plants, and flowers. what happens when loki meets the girl with a crown of daisies?

It was no secret Loki had a problem trusting anyone. His own insecurities, mixed with the feelings of mistrust from his father, he wasn’t one to trust easy. His back was never to anyone, and he always preferred to sit or stand where he could see everyone in the room. At Tony’s parties, you would find him upstairs, eyes watching the crowd, lightly swirling his drink in the glass, never taking a sip. Midgardian alcohol didn’t have much of an effect on him, but he refused to put himself in a situation where his senses were altered.

Loki often found himself in the woods behind the Avengers compound. It was peaceful, with the Avengers seldom coming out that far. It was the one place Loki found complete silence and could be entirely alone- until he saw you.

You were sitting cross-legged in the grass, barefoot, clad in a sage green dress that hung loosely off your body. On top of your head was a crown made of flowers, daisies, Loki noticed. Your hands laid flat against the grass, and dozens of tiny wildflowers sprung up where your fingers were. You looked up when you saw a hint of a shadow, and jumped when you heard a voice.

“Who the hell are you?” A bush suddenly shot out of the ground in front of you, shielding you from Loki’s sight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here. Particularly someone I’ve never met before. I must ask, how did you get here? Stark’s security around this place is nearly impossible to bypass.”

“I was invited. Mr. Stark brought me here this morning. I, I wasn’t ready to meet everyone yet. So he showed me the woods, where I’d be more comfortable.” You slowly stood up and Loki watched as the bush parted so you could walk towards him. “It’s nice to meet you. Loki, right?”

“How did you..?”

“You’re more well known than you thought, Loki.” You walked past him, flowers blooming where your feet met the grass. “You caused some pretty strong earthly damage, entire ecosystems destroyed in some parts. Not just you, of course, you’ve all done your share. And that’s where I come in, for correction.” Loki couldn’t help but watch you, entranced.

“So, what? You’re like Mother Nature?” You spun around when you heard the patronizing tone in Loki’s voice, and your eyes narrowed. Loki felt something wrapped around his ankle and suddenly, there was a sharp tug and Loki dangled upside down from a tree, the branch wrapped like a whip around his ankle.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You turned back around and walked towards the compound.

“Are you not going to help me down?” Loki called out to you. You continued walking and raised your hand, sending Loki to the ground with a loud thud.

“You’re welcome!” You smirked to yourself as you walked to the compound, leaving Loki laying on the ground.

———

After your introduction to the team, Loki learned your name was Y/N. His little jab at you being Mother Nature turned out to hold some truth to it. You had the power to manipulate the Earth and its weather, but your strongest points were plants- this covered everything from the smallest blade of grass to the largest tree. You had apologized to Loki, surprising him and yourself.

“I apologize for our meeting earlier, Loki. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I shouldn’t have. However, maybe next time you won’t doubt my powers.” And with a smile, you were off, following Tony as he gave you the tour of the compound. Loki watched as you walked away, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Loki often found himself in the wooded spot you first met. While Loki used to prefer being alone (and still preferred it with most of the team), he enjoyed your company greatly. During the next few weeks, the god had grown rather fond of you.

~~~

“Hello, Loki.” You walked up to the raven haired man, standing beside him as he observed the crowd below him. “You know, it’s pretty hard to socialize from up here.” Loki rolled his eyes, but you saw the amused glint in his eyes.

“It’s kind of the purpose, Y/N.” Loki hummed and you took the glass from his hand, setting it on a nearby table. “What are you doing?”

“Do you trust me?” Your e/c eyes locked with his.

“Much more than I should.” You smiled and took Loki’s hand, leading him out of the compound.

~~~

That night, you had lead Loki to the woods, the moon shining bright and lighting up the way. You both sat in the grass, exchanging conversation and enjoying each other’s company. Loki could feel you chipping away at the walls he’s been building his entire life- and he found he didn’t mind it.

———

“What on Earth are you doing?” Loki asked, glancing up from his book. You two were in your spot, Loki leaning against a tree and you in the middle of the sunny patch of grass, surrounded by sunflowers. He was trying to focus on a book you insisted he read, but each time he caught your gaze on him, his focus was slipping.

“I made you something.” You smiled as you held your hands behind your back. “Close your eyes, please.”

“Absolutely not.” Loki returned to his book and you huffed.

“Don’t you trust me?” And with a sigh, Loki closed his book.

“Unfortunately.” You grinned when Loki closed his eyes, and you crawled forward, stopping as you kneeled between his legs. You took the sunflower crown from behind your back and gently rested it up on his head.

“Beautiful.” You smiled. Loki opened his eyes as he felt the slight weight on his head. “I made you a crown. Like mine.” You explained when you saw the confused look Loki gave you. “It’s not as luxurious or glamorous as anything you could have on Asgard, but I made it with sunflowers. Your favorite.“

“Don’t be silly. I’ll treasure it forever, darling.” Loki blushed from the nickname he gave you, and you grinned, the sun becoming brighter. As you two stayed out in the sun, you had shifted to where you were leaned against a tree, Loki’s head in your lap as he read his book. Your fingers worked braids through his hair as you weaved flowers into the braids, the baby blue and purple wildflowers a stark contrast against his black hair. The steady rhythm of your fingers put Loki at ease, and the gentle breeze mixed with the setting sun relaxed you. You two stayed outside, enjoying each other’s company until the sun in the sky had been replaced by the moon.

“Loki?” Your voice was soft and tired, interrupting the silence of the woods.

“Yes, Y/N?” Loki asked, moon shining in his beautifully blue eyes.

“I really like spending time with you.” Loki’s heart swelled at your sleepy confession.

“I’m quite fond of our times together too, Sunflower.” You smiled from the nickname, cheeks pink from blushing.

“Sunflower, hmm? I believe that name’s more fitting for you, with your crown.” Loki’s hand twitched and you felt a light weight on your head.

“I believe the name fits both of us now.” You brought one of your hands to your head, smiling when you felt the petals. Loki couldn’t help but smile as he looked up at you. Every little thing made you so happy. You were like a young child, in awe of everything the world had to offer. And Loki did his best not to let anyone dull the light in your eyes. You both sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke again.

“When I got my powers, I isolated myself. I constantly focused on my work and I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. And when Tony brought me in, I felt like an outsider.” You paused, gently twirling the ends of Loki’s hair around your fingers. “You made me feel safe and welcome, I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was my pleasure, Y/N.” Loki stood up, a few wildflowers falling from his hair as he offered his hand to you. “We should head inside before it gets much later. May I walk you to your room?” You took Loki’s hand with a smile, standing up.

“You may.” Loki walked you to your room, neither of you paying the rest of the team any attention as you made conversation.

“Were they wearing flower crowns?” Tony asked, looking at Steve who nodded.

“And Loki had flowers braided in his hair.” Thor watched the two of you until he could see you no longer. “It looks like Lady Y/N has made a friend out of him.”

“I think I preferred when Y/N was dangling Loki from a tree.” Bucky spoke and the men in the room agreed before focusing on the television again.

In your room, Loki was seated beside you as you laid down. Loki took the flower crown off your head, setting it on the nightstand.

“You’re tired, Y/N. Sleep.” Loki started to stand up and you grabbed his hand.

“Wait.” You pulled Loki to you, motioning for him to come closer. Loki bent down to your level, freezing as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Loki.”

“Goodnight, Sunflower.” And with that, Loki left your room and returned to his own room. Unbeknownst to you both, Loki was in your dreams and you in his. The next morning Loki woke up, surprised to see a vase of sunflowers beside his bed. A note was tucked into the flowers and Loki carefully took it, smiling as he was greeted by your delicate handwriting.

‘I apologize if I’m overstepping, but I’d love to take you on a proper date. Meet me outside once you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.

-Sunflower’

This one date lead to another, followed by many more dates planned by you and Loki. As you laid asleep beside him, Loki couldn’t believe he had been fortunate enough to meet you. Mere months ago, you had met each other and neither of you thought you’d end in this position. But as you curled into Loki’s chest and the steady pattern of your breathing lulled him to sleep, there was nowhere you’d rather be. When sunflowers can’t find the sun, they’ll often turn towards each other as they grow. When you couldn’t find your sun, you found Loki. And he found you. His sunflower. And he’d be facing you every step of the way, for the rest of your lives.

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 @ditttiii ❤️ Taglist is OPEN and so are requests. If you have any requests or would like to be on the taglist, please let me know ✨

[blueroseblaze]

Social Distancing

Wordcount: 1697

WARNINGS: none

A little something to tide you guys over during this global crisis

You sat on one side of the couch; cheek pressed into your palm as you sighed annoyedly. The fingers on your other hand drummed against your folded legs. You looked over to the devil hunted on the opposite side of the couch, a full at least 4 feet between you. Nero’s blue eyes met yours and he smiled at you, taking his attention away from the movie you were watching.

It had been a boring week so far. No jobs waiting, no one needed help. Even the demons seemed to be taking a break from terrorizing the locals. Nico stayed home with the van, so you were stranded in your apartment, and even Dante finally decided to actually think for once and stayed home, so you couldn’t even rely on his particular brand on annoying comedy. Leaving you and Nero to entertain yourselves.

You turned your attention back to the movie; you weren’t even paying attention to. Boredom continued to chip away at your soul, until you felt a strange sensation in your scalp. Your hairs was being pulled up gently from your head and then let back down. The sensation repeated and you reached up to inspect the phantom playing with your hair. Your hands gripped the rough yet light material of massive claws.

You looked over to your partner. Nero still sat on his end of the couch, pretending to innocently watch the movie, paying you not even a glance. It was impossible to miss the giant blue luminescent wings that emerged from his back, basking him and you in a faint blue glow. One ethereal clawed hand still gripped his shoulder while the other outstretched towards you, still running the long talons across your scalp.

“What are you doing?” you asked, unable to contain the giggle in your chest.

“Social distancing,” he said simply.

He turned to you, a sweet smile painted across his face as the clawed wing moved to your shoulder, gingerly wrapping the fingers around you and holding you securely. Maybe the next while won’t be so bad after all.

 You and Nero stood a decent meter apart as you walked down the empty streets. In your arms was a large basket filled with freshly baked treats. You were both simply too cooped up in your own home and where desperate from just a little bit of human interaction, however you still respected the rules of isolation. You and Nero both washed your hands and you each carried a mask in your pockets just in case.

Footsteps kept echoing on the cobblestone streets as you continued down the block, occasionally stealing a wave towards a lone dog walker. It was peaceful, and the fresh air was a much-welcomed change.

Your journey started at Kyrie’s place. She had been stuck taking care of the kids all alone with little help. You knew she was capable of handling it, but it was still no doubt troublesome. She was thrilled with your gift of sweets and was not afraid to hug you both before ushering the little ones back inside. She offered you something in return, or to come inside but you politely declined. One because you just wanted to be safe and two because you still had a few more deliveries to make.

Next was Nico, who was more than willing to take your other platter of goodies off your hands, but you kept them out of her grasps long enough for you to wish her good health and be on your way.

“Okay,” you said inspecting your inventory, “One more to go.”

The last stretch of your walk brought you to the stone steps of a building. You climbed the stairs, stopping about two steps away from the top. You briefly pondered how you would ring the doorbell, but a long blue spectral claw answered your inquiry. Nero looked to you and smiled as his winged talons returned to his shoulder.

You tapped your foot eagerly as the door slowly opened inward. You nearly dropped everything in your arms as a dark loud force came at you, nearly knocking you on your ass.

“HEY! No visitors you hear?! We got someone immune comp-. Oh, it’s you.”

Griffon perched himself on the stone railing near the door, ruffling his feathers as the falls of a cane reached your ears.

Long slender fingers curled around the door and a head of raven hair could be seen poking out.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” V asked from behind the door.

“Nothing’s wrong V,” Nero said, “We just wanted to pay you a visit.”

“We know we can’t really hang out with you, so we brought you something to lighten things up. You know, since you’re hear all by yourself.”

“HEY!” the bird cried.

The poet opened the door a little further taking a slight step out, balancing on his sliver cane.

“Don’t come any closer,” Nero demanded.

Suddenly the platter was out of your hands and in Nero’s large ethereal claws. He stretched them out and placed the gently in V’s hands. V pulled the foil away from the top and smiled, inhaling the sweet scent of your baking.

“This is,” he began, “Just what I needed.”

 It was an essential visit to the store. You had run out of toiletries and a few essential foods, and Nero was itching for more of his energy drinks.

“I told you to ration them,” you scolded as you pulled your cart from the que.

He just scoffed and continued to walk in front of you. The store shelves were mostly empty. The poor staff probably had no time to restock. You had planned to be in and out in no time, just grabbing what you needed and keeping out of people’s way. Eventually you lost Nero but didn’t think much of it.

You parked your cart next to a shelf of shampoo, eyeing the stock for your preferred brand. Behind you, you heard a faint impact in your cart, and you turned to see a box of cereal sitting there that you hadn’t picked up. Looking around, you were completely alone in the aisle.

You cocked an eyebrow incredulously and slowly turned back to what you were doing, but only for a few seconds before you heard another item be placed in your cart. You turned and scowled at the family sized bag of chips slumped over in your cart.

“Hmph,” you said, now diverting your gaze to above you. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar faint blue glow peaking out from behind the shelves. You played coy, and slowly turned your back to your cart again, listening carefully for the sound of rustled feathers and stress of the metal cart.

You quickly spun around and reached out, catching the massive clawed hand in both of yours. You yanked on the limb causing it to drop the tub of chocolate brownie ice cream into your cart.

“Nero,” you warned your voice loud enough to carry into the other aisles, “None of this is on the list.”

“Come on,” he whined from behind the shelves,

“We should only grab what we need.”

“I grabbed your favorite.”

You glanced at the tub in the cart and couldn’t deny your instant sugar craving. You relented and released his wing and giving him a defeated sigh.

“Fine,” you said.

The clawed hand of the wing lingered in front of you, gently caressing your cheek before disappearing.

“Thanks, baby,” Nero said as he stepped out from behind the shelf.

“Oh, shut up and help me pay for and carry this stuff.

 You had been slaving in the kitchen for about an hour now. You wanted to make a nice meal for you and Nero since you were able to snag some good food at the supermarket before everyone else got to it. Funny how all the canned soup was gone, but all the ingredients to make soup were still on the shelves. Nero had offered to help but you wanted to do it yourself. Even though you loved him to death, being cooped up in your home made you yearn for a little personal time. Currently he left you alone to work on his own projects out in the garage.

As you set the table you heard the faint sound of the garage door opening, followed by familiarly heavy footfalls. Your snowy headed lover turned the corner and smiled at you. He approached you, arms outstretched for a hug and you could see the dirt and grime on his hands, you quickly dodged it, ducking under his arm and spinning around to his backside.

“Oh no you don’t,” you said, “Not until you wash your hands, mister.”

He pouted and attempted to argue but was quickly shot down by the look you were giving him. He dramatically slumped his shoulders and sulked to the kitchen. You stood by patiently waiting for the squeak of the faucet.

Dinner was simple and enjoyable. Quiet above all else. You learned quickly that talking wasn’t necessary between you two. You didn’t need words you just needed each other’s presence. You would giggle as you caught Nero’s eyes while he scarfed down his food. And he would only give that dopey smile in return with sauce still on his chin.

The night went on without much fanfare. Clean up after dinner, a couple movies, showers, and bed. Nero was in bed before you, waiting under the covers. You washed your hands for the final time that night and shut off your bathroom light.

You climbed onto your side of the bed, noting the pillow in between you two. You sneered at it before picking it up and flinging it over your shoulder and regaining your rightful place under Nero’s arm, head on his chest, reveling in his heartbeat.

“You’re not worried about getting sick?” he chuckled.

“Only thing I need to be worried about is being lovesick.” You joked tiredly.

“Dork.” He rolled his eyes, squeezing you closer to his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Hmm, I love you,” he hummed as he turned off the light, “Virus be damned.”

[iovnyu]

happy ending (6/?)

summary: being cinderella’s daughter has many pros and cons but on top of that you are soon becoming responsible for the citizens of auradon. the first thing you do to show the citizens of your worthiness is by creating a program to bring kids from the isle of the lost, a isolated island where villains and their kids are held, onto auradon. with this new program, you undergo harsh realities and maybe a little bit of love and drama along the way, who knows?

a/n: hello im very inconsistent on updates,, im sorry lol. ill try to be better at it in the future. also im making things go a little faster so enjoy !!!

y/n knew that there would be many opinions regarding her orders, but she never knew it would be like this. she had never felt that scared for her life that  much. when she had walked out of the meeting hall, it almost looked like something out of a movie -- people were yelling and threatening her life. in other words, the citizens of auradon were raining hell on her right now.

y/n was currently positioned in an awkward pose as she watched the news. flipping through the channels, she noticed that most of the news anchors all had said the same thing about the statement. not a single one mentioned a positive effect that came out of the meeting.  

“princess y/n.” a guard came into her room and bowed. she now had to have double the amount of protection considering the anger of the citizens.

“prince seokmin, prince jun and prince mingyu are here to see you. do you want their presence?” the guard asked.

“uhm... sure! why not?” she leaned closer to see his nametag, “mr. mark lee.”

mark bowed and opened the door for y/n to see jun, mingyu and seokmin with her favorite snacks piled in their hands. “princess y/n you can not be sulking right now because guess what? your favorite princes are here to get your mind off of the previous hours and replace that time with happiness!!” seokmin announced, dumping a series of spicy chip bags onto your bed.

“yes! we cannot have our princess be sad, otherwise we will be sad and then all of eternity will be sad. do you want that prince jun?” mingyu pointed to jun.

“no! i certainly do not! princess y/n?” jun said looking at y/n.

“fine! but it is only because i am dying of boredom right now.” y/n smiled at her friends, mentally thanking ariel, mulan and aurora for having the best children and being best friends with her mother.

they all cheered and started opening each bag of chips so they don’t have to stick to one. they all had their designated chips, but the production of spicer chips gets better everyday thus having way too many bags for the night.

“should we watch a movie or a show? oh my god, i heard that the british baking show released a new season!!” mingyu squealed.

“what? really?” jun asked. mingyu nodded his head and turned on the tv that was bigger than his bed. he quickly found fairyflick and searched up the show.

“guys, we have already discussed that my bed is big, why are you guys so close to me?” y/n rolled her eyes, making sure that the two boys who were almost cuddling her sees.

seokmin looks at her and gasps, “do you not like it when we cuddle you? you have never complained before!”

“hmm maybe it is because all of your weight is on me causing me two lungs to merge into one!!” y/n exclaimed. even if she did try to move away, she would be faced with laying on the carpet floor.

“i dont know about jun or mingyu, but i do not lean on you with all my weight. i gently snuggle into the warmth.” seokmin argued with y/n.

“shut up! watch the show you flounders.” mingyu said as he jumped onto the bed following with a series of complaints from seokmin. everyone adjusted their posture to be spaced evenly apart with not a single limb touching.

“god this show is one of the most boring shows to ever exist!” seokmin whined, kicking underneath the blanket.

the rest of them ignored his whines as he eventually quieted down and got interested in what they were baking. y/n was thankful to lay next to jun since he   wasn’t boney to lean on.

it was not long after the show started when the “cuddling” started to happen. everyone slowly found themselves closer to each other, wanting more body warmth. jun had his arm around y/n as she laid against his chest, eating whatever that was in front of her. seokmin was leaning on mingyu since his biceps felt like fluffy clouds.

jun looked down at y/n as she started to speak. “i hope one day my future prince will make that cheese puff pastry thing.”

“do you even like cheese pastry?” jun questioned, fingers combing through her hair.

y/n shrugged, “if it looks good then it tastes good.” a laugh emitted from jun,  making y/n smile.

y/n looked over to her left to see seokmin passed out hugging mingyu and mingyu watching the show intently. she quietly chuckled knowing that sooner or later seokmin will kick mingyu off of the bed.

“hey, y/n?” jun whispered, “do you already know who you are going to take off the isle?”

“isn’t it obvious?” y/n replied.

“maybe. but are you just going to bring them only? or have other isle kids?”

“just them. the limit is 10 kids, i want to make sure they are the first ones here.” y/n had stopped eating and grabbed a can of coke to down the spiciness of the chips.

“when are they coming?” jun played with his fingers. he knew that when soonyoung comes over, he won’t be the only one to try to capture y/n’s heart. he needs to start upping his game, he just can’t lose y/n.

“uhh... i think it is the end of this week. we want them to come over as soon as possible. we already have the welcoming ceremony ready and everything.”

jun nodded and sensed someone looking at him. turning to his left he found mingyu staring at him intently, making jun confused. he shrugged it off and turned towards the tv. one by one, each of them fell asleep with the sound of  bakers talking about the making of the beast’s famous grey stuff.

*

y/n woke up to being violently shaken by mingyu and seokmin. “y/n!!! wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!!”

groaning, y/n got up and groggily looked at the loud boys. “dude. no one says that.” she rubbed her eyes and looked for her phone.

“if you are wondering what time it is, it is 8 o’clock.” jun said, looking back at her through her mirror. he smiled at how she can look messy but still so adorable in the morning. “get ready before you’re late to your favorite class.”

“i would be glad to not go to mr. hyunh’s class.” y/n rolled her eyes. she knew that either way she needed to get up before fairy god mother barges in and yell at her. she shooed the boys out of her room so they can get ready and have some privacy to herself.

after y/n had gotten ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. “okay, y/n you got this. we got this. just ignore the stares. let’s just not make eye contact with anyone.”

giving herself a final look in the mirror, she grabbed her bag and went out the door.

*

“y/n! please go see fairy god mother in her office. she said it is important.” mr. lin, her history teacher, spoke from the sea shell phone.

nodding, y/n quickly put all of her supplies in her bag and got up from the seat. she stole a quick glance at seokmin and shrugged. usually fairy god mother only talked to her after school, never during school. she always raved about how important school is and there is no reason to lose “education time”.

she walked pretty fast to fairy god mother’s office and knocked on her door. “please come in!”

opening her door, y/n walked in and waved. “hi fairy god mother, if you don’t mind me asking -- why did you call me up?”

“oh! i just got some good news for you, i just couldn’t wait until after school.” fairy god mother smiled, “the counsel just called me and told me that they can move the day that the isle kids come. they said it is ideal if they can come the day after tomorrow. if not, then it is fine!”

y/n couldn’t handle her excitement, “wait, really? is the welcoming ceremony ready? if so then the day after tomorrow is fine!”

“yep! everything is ready, they just need your word and then we can move it.”

“then sure! i can’t wait! thank you for telling me this fairy god mother.” y/n hugged her.

“no problem kid. now, go. get to class.” fairy god mother shooed her away. y/n couldn’t wait to tell jun, mingyu and seokmin. she practically bounced down the halls wanting to get to seokmin as fast as she can.

*

“no, you’re kidding right? tell me you’re kidding!” mingyu said, looking back and forth between y/n and seokmin.

seokmin shook his head, “no we aren’t. they are literally coming in like two days.”

mingyu squealed and jumped around y/n’s room, bumping into jun in the process. jun pushed mingyu away from him and looked towards y/n. “why did they move the date closer suddenly?”

“fairy god mother said it’s ideal to have it closer or something like that.” y/n shrugged. jun nodded grabbing his homework, “okay well let’s get to work now. homework isn’t going to do itself.”

mingyu gave jun a skeptical look before taking his homework out of his backpack and setting it on the coffee table, far away from y/n. mingyu knew that jun and soonyoung will fight for y/n no matter what. although jun tried to ignore his thoughts, he decided that whatever happens, y/n has to be happy -- even if that means his heart will be broken.

previous // next

masterlist

[myinnerroomie]

              Today I want to write for pleasure instead of business. I want my mind to be productive, but I am sick of work.  I am sick of all the grad school papers and the stress of getting everything in on time, the stress of applying for this test, and studying for that test. The stress of pretending I care about the Air Force. And for what?  I feel as if I am not doing something to better myself, then I am failing.  In all aspects of life. And for what? What am I trying to accomplish?  What do I want out of life?  The answer is everything.  More than I’m getting.  So I fill the void with military and homework and physical activities.  All of which are healthy right?  What’s the problem?  I can do more.  I am so capable.  I see that. I know that I’m not meant for this.   However, I signed up for it, right?  I’ll finish what I signed up for and move on and appreciate what I learned.  In the meantime, I feel it necessary to point out that I may be jobless in 2 months, maybe not.  The stress of never knowing what is going to happen is real.  And I’m sick of it.  However, it pays the bills (quite nicely), I’m staying in a condo by the beach (where I’m sitting on the balcony typing), and it’s frankly beautiful weather and I’ll go for a run later. It’s really my fault that I haven’t found a job yet.  I should never have relied on reserve like this anyway.  I have no fear that I’ll figure something out when the time comes.  Actually, life is way better than it really has ever been.  

I’m so free (aside from the military which ironically is the thing that saved me). Oooh.  Let’s get into my early adulthood.  That should be fun.  So, embarrassingly enough, until this past year, I have always had a boyfriend.  We can get into my childhood later, but it probably stemmed from somewhere back then.  I have never thought much of myself.  Figured I’d go to community college like everybody else, then I went to a university like everybody else.  Majored in a stupid (fun) degree.  No real regrets about that though.  My self-worth was based on if people liked me, if I felt I looked good.  I do regret a lot of the actions of that sad, desperate girl.  Nobody understood, and I was good at faking it.  I did things that I have never admitted to anybody.  I literally could have been diagnosed with the same disorders as the other kids in the behavioral hospital where I worked.  Only mine weren’t for attention and I was deeply ashamed, so nobody knew.  I educated myself on the consequences of what would happen if I continued on that path, and slowly but surely, I got better.  And sadly, I can’t even celebrate that with anyone.  Shame, guilt, fear, worthlessness, pain – what I used to always feel.  Pride and confusion with all this freedom I have is what I feel now.

I used to think emotions were embarrassing.  I knew I hurt all the time, but I was never taught how to deal with it, so I would isolate myself and feel stupid.  Actually, that’s what I was taught.  Everybody has issues, and I’m not special. Get over it.  Why did it hurt so much?  Why can’t I get over it?  Why am I so miserable?  Why am I even alive?  Everybody dies anyway.  Oh, I know how I can deal with this: weed.  Ahh, there so much better.  Now all I’m thinking about is how I can’t remember what I’m thinking about. Yeah, I should probably go to class now.  Wonder if they’ll know I’m stoned. (turns out that they did).  But I was really enjoying class then. Very intrigued with Maslow’s hierarchy of need.  Hmm self-actualization.  Will I ever know my purpose and get to the point in life where I can fulfill that need??? Nah bro I’m starving…  You think everybody is staring at me eating these chips? -- Anyway, this is only the middle of the story.  I’m not even going to go back to my first boyfriend.  Let’s skip to the second one that cheated on me after 2 years.  Looking back now, he’s gross and bigoted. He was mean to me.  He lied to me.  He cheated.  Everything was an ordeal.  I just constantly lowered myself and made myself small for him.  He, of course, never reciprocated.  I wasn’t worth it.  Because I never showed any self-worth.  One good decision I made was to further my education and move to Hattiesburg for school which he actually made fun of me for doing. Anyway, I remember one time he had just come from the boat or whatever he was doing for work and invited his friend to our apartment.  I went to sit on his lap and he pushed me off and laughed.  I just went to my room and cried while he spent the night with his friend. That’s not me.  I hate I did that.  I hate that’s their memory of me.  Oh well.  I know they still talk shit about me back home.  That’s fine and that’s their problem.

Another reoccurring theme with boyfriends is my lack of any other friends and/or support. This takes me to my second boyfriend. I had been single for less than a year, and I met him.  It was so much nicer at first.  I felt like he cared about me.  He was so sweet.  Finally, everything was reciprocated to me, and I was happy.  I was happy to make him happy.  Again, with my screwed up priorities, man.  But I had grown up a little.  I just had this baseless fear that I would be alone forever.  But, I’m not necessarily the victim.  I did have this notion that I should be taken care of. I never expected to pay.  I expected some sort of money and to pay to go out and about.  That didn’t happen with this guy.  This honestly helped me become independent.  However, over time, he became more and more controlling. He threw me down and hit me in a NOLA hotel and the police were called.  He tore up my purse and a jacket. I remember feeling so much stress because he said he was going to leave me there, and I didn’t know how to get home.  Nor did I want to tell anybody why I was in that predicament anyway.  I thought it was all my fault and apologized and he stayed. How lucky am I? To stay with a guy that hits me and breaks my belongings (He also broke my tent.  If I ever went anywhere, he would be calling and obsessed. I couldn’t enjoy anything because I knew there would always be repercussions for having fun.   I literally broke out in hives at my friend’s house in Jackson one time because I told him no I wouldn’t come back to his place that night and it gave me so much grief.  He said he was going to break up with me if I did not drive back.  But I sure enough stayed my ass up there though. It was still embarrassing.  He threw a boot at me once because I was mad and didn’t want to sleep in the same room as him.  When I told him that hurt and showed him the bruise, he blamed me for acting that way. A few times, I tried to leave to go home, and he would grab me and not let me go.  I would be like if you don’t get your hands off me, I have every right to defend myself.  So I would straight up try to fist fight him to let go of me. He would laugh. Sounds healthy right?  Oh yeah, one time I did not do what he wanted and he threatened to get rid of my cat and locked all the doors to the house so I could not get to MY fucking cat.  So I waited until he got home and he just acted like he didn’t care at all about the strife he caused.  I think I may have even stayed that night at his house.  I hated him but I didn’t know what else to do.              

In the middle of all of this, I joined the military.  So yeah he came to visit me in Texas for graduation then said this was his vacation and that he was going to do what he wanted.  I’m like dude no.  I’ve been locked up for weeks.  It’s my vacation.  Another argument, more crying.  You’re a bitch if you stand up for yourself.  Okay months go on, we break up in tech school.  But I know he has my cat.  I also know he has a place to live.  Again, my fault.  I’m using him cause I don’t really know what else to do.  So I live at his house.  Then move to out of town.  He threatens to leave me again and tells me I’m shitty for moving away.  I move back to his place.  Back and forth, but he just stays and does whatever the fuck he wants with no consideration for me.  Eventually, I just started to dislike him.  I can take care of myself.  I got another place with a room mate.  His presence annoyed me.  I thought he was ugly.  I think that was mutual, and I was like dude:  Let’s end it. It’s miserable.  He agreed.  Easiest break-up ever.  Now did I do dumb things, and normal post-breakup things? Absolutely. Did I still text him a couple times afterwards? Yeahhh.  Also,  I made out with a 20 year old army kid at a bar. And I also slept with a married man.  That was a whole thing.  But most of last year, I have just grown.

I have nobody grabbing my arm now.  If I want to pack up and go hiking somewhere across the country, I’ll buy a plane ticket and go. If I want to hang out with friends, its fun again.  I do not rely on anybody for my self-worth.  2020 was extremely rough for me. I lost my house and all my belongings.  My car flooded in a hurricane (and of course I only had liability insurance).  It has all worked out anyway.  I didn’t even need any of that stuff.  Honestly, I never had the worst life.  That wasn’t the goal of this. You know, to complain.  It’s just that everything has gotten better. Losing everything helps put your life into perspective.  I’m so much more appreciative now.  I look at what I have accomplished and where I came from.  I used to think that everybody was more important than me, and that I needed them to like me and see me as worthy to be around.  Well, that has changed completely.  I don’t have to like you and you don’t have to like me.  That doesn’t make me less of a valuable person.  Everybody is not better than me and I have just as much a chance of being successful as everybody else.  I’m not a “bitch”.  Maybe some folks find me “annoying”, but you’re crazy if you think I will ever make myself small to fit inside anybody’s box that doesn’t like me.  I don’t “deserve it” to be living a miserable life. Life is hard.  Life is beautiful. It’s all about learning, and that’s what I have done. I win.  I’m free.  I can do anything.  While I do regret some of my past, all this has given me the drive to me who I am today and who I will be tomorrow.  Still gotta figure that one out.

[theheartsmirror]

𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃. ▹ ❝𝑏𝑖𝑑❞

➝ 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x 𝐰𝐨𝐜!𝐨𝐜 

➝ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 2/? 

→ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

❛this is a woc!fem!reader fic now, but characters refer to her by a name. also, this doesn’t go in chronological order. there’s a time jump between this part and the first part❜

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 ⇠

He’d abandoned you.

Well. In his defense, it wasn’t necessarily abandonment. 

He just....couldn’t have you there for the deal, something he’d informed you of once you’d successfully recruited Cara.

That was when he informed you that you’d remain on Sargon, with the same villagers who’d wished for you to never leave in the first place. 

Now you were returning, just not how you imagined your visit would be. 

You’d started the trek toward the abode where you’d be staying in the beautiful but barren planet. It wasn’t the place that earned your disdain but rather the circumstances of you having to stay. At least they were affable, that much you were grateful for. 

Omera was the kind of woman whose warm smile beckoned you to share the darkest of your secrets because you just knew that she would share them with no one. And Winta, oh, children always did capture your soul with nothing more than a gapped smile, and Omera’s pride and joy was no different.

And all of that was nice, yes, but it failed to outweigh the throbbing pain in your chest that increased in intensity as you traveled toward the farm, silence thick and heavy between the two of you.

The child remained in your lap, sleeping soundly against your beating chest while The Mandalorian kept his gaze on you, the entire time.

You refused to look at him.

Even once you reached the village, as he spoke with Omera about the reason for your return, beseeching her for her blessing in having you stay there (something you both knew she’d have no objections toward), you couldn’t focus on anything else other than the fact that three had come to the small village, but only two would leave.

He was leaving you behind, and this was the source of the tangible animosity between the two of you. It weighed heavy on you to plaster a smile as the excited villagers, especially the children, greeted you.

They’d gravitate to you, naturally, and really, you to them.

Children just had a special place in your heart.

But even their innocence failed to lift your spirits.

You stood in the woods, on the elevated plains so that you could observe the children happily playing with the Child, Floppy, as you’d nicknamed him.

The leaves crunched under the heavy weight of his boots. He wanted you to hear him, if he didn’t, he’d have easily kept his presence a secret.

“You’re leaving.” You stretched your legs, the heel of your shoes pressing into the dirt.

More crunching. “Yes.”

You dropped your head and nodded slowly. “Well, you better get going.” Pressing your palms against your thighs, you stood up and turned around, eyes landing on shiny beskar. “The sun’s getting low.”

A reply wasn’t necessary, or maybe it was. Either way, you didn’t want to hear it.

But that didn’t stop him from speaking or grabbing onto your arm as you tried to walk past him.

“Aayla–”

“Don’t.” Goddess, even your name on his modulated filtered mouth caused your stomach to flip and your jaw to clench. “You’ve said what you had to say.”

“No. You’ve chosen to hear what you want to hear.”

“Like you’ve chosen my having to be left behind?”

He stepped forward, and you could almost see the scowl on his face. “I am not leaving you behind.”

You too made that step, chin jutted in the air, symbolizing your defiance. “Then why am I here? Why am I not coming with you? I can help, and you know it.”

“Aayla—”

“This whole plan of yours is dangerous.”

“Why do you think I’m leaving you here?” His hand fisted at his side. “I can’t do my job if I have to worry about the kid and you.”

The bass in his voice lessened, his shoulders relaxing, the volume of his voice decreasing with each word. Sighing with defeat—you never could stay upset with him for too long—you placed your hand on his covered forearm.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Mando,” you admitted, eyes falling down to his armor. His hand lifted to the indenture of your waist, tugging you closer to him. Naturally, your other hand rested on his forearm, gliding down to his wrists. “Something is not right. I-I can feel it.”

“I know,” he whispered. You looked at him. The metal between you melted into oblivion as you his eyes seared into your furrowed brows. You could feel his sympathy, but you also felt his determination. “But I don’t have a choice. They’ll keep coming for him.”

His touch, metal filtered at all, was your anodyne. It beckoned you. “We can protect him.” You moved against him, your body pressed against his, his warmth swimming over.

“At what cost?” He questioned. His other hand moved to the small of your back, applying just the slightest of pressure as gloved fingers danced against your clothing. “We can’t keep running.”

“So we surrender?”

“It’s not a surrender. It’s a compromise.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Aayla….” The sigh that accompanied his saying your name, you hated it, you hated how it guilted you into regretting how you’d been treating treating him. Not having you around for this exchange was for the best, he was just trying to keep everybody safe. Floppy was the priority, and he couldn’t have any distractions.

“I know.” Neither of you moved sans his fingers gliding against your back. If you could, you’d freeze this moment, store it away for safekeeping. This was comfort. It was isolation that allowed for defensive molting. There was no concern for onlookers, no consideration of others opinions, just the two of you.

“I still hate this.”

“I’ve noticed.”

A smile broke the walls of your dismay. You loved this side of him, the side that unintentionally revealed small facets of his personality. His sarcasm always secured a grin, chuckle, or laugh. Even if he failed to see the comical connotation.

“I suppose I should be thankful you at least have enough sense to not go alone.”

He remained still while your fingers moved against the fabric that barely registered. You’d gotten used to the physical barriers, if you could even still call them that. They were just there. But they didn’t stop the flow.

“Cara is a good soldier. Her presence could be beneficial.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down. “What?”

“Is that your way of saying you trust her?”

“I trust her desire to strike down anyone who still remains from the Empire.”

There was a benefit that stemmed from assisting him, that’s what you interpreted from his roundabout reply.

“Just, let her help you, okay?” Whether he was listening to you or not, you couldn’t really say. His body language, the close proximity, the affection, you knew it was all attributed to the fact that he too felt uneasy about this whole thing. It was why he hadn’t outright fully rebuffed your concerns.

But you also knew that he was stubborn, he’d probably attempt to engage in the transaction without assistance if not for the child. He could handle himself, but factor in another person, a kid at that, and it complicated things.

Which is why he’s asking you to sit this one out...

“It won’t take long.”

“It shouldn’t.”

Even with the helmet, you felt it, his gaze burning into you, peeling back every layer of defense.

“You’re still worried.”

“Yes, and I will remain so until you return. Both of you. Whatever it takes.” You flicked your fingers against the beskar. “And don’t let him eat anymore frogs. They upset his stomach.”

“It’ll be at the top of my priority list.”

Your eyes betrayed you, vision fogging, even as you smiled and pushed on his chest. “Bastard.”

The pending departure and acceptance of the fact that this was really happening, he was going to do this, leaving you behind in the process, it triggered something.

This would be the first time you’d been away from him and the child since your meeting months prior. Sure, he’d leave the two of you in the ship or at the lodging while he carried out various jobs, but they always carried the promise of a return.

You knew he’d march in eventually, irritated, tired, even if he never voiced it, and sometimes with an additional battle scar that you’d end up helping him tend to by the end of the evening.

It was a routine, something you’d welcomed and accepted.

But now…..

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Your plea was whispered and light, marred by the intensity of your anxiety. Body firmly pressed against his, you allowed your arms to rest between your conjoined chests. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, cheek flushed against his chest.

For a second, you thought you heard his heartbeat, steady and calm, a stark contrast to your own.

Your eyes shut as his hand moved up your back. You inched even closer. “Aren’t I always?”

His unintentional humor failed to evoke a smile this time around. “I’m serious.” You craned your head to meet his gaze. “Promise me.”

He took a deep breath and removed his right hand from your back. Eyes closing once more, you leaned into the gloved palm pressed gently against your right cheek.

You could just feel how just that gesture required caution. He was always so gentle when it was just the two of you. It sometimes perturbed you how different he was out in the field: stoic, ruthless, strategic, a mercenary.

But in an equally strange sort of way, you prided yourself on that. You liked how comfortable he felt with you, like he didn’t have to have his guard up all the time. Like the risk of an attack or betrayal didn’t exist.

You liked being his safe space, just as he was yours.

“I promise.”

Low and firm, the acknowledgment managed to chip away some of your fear, not much, but you’d take it.

Your eyelids lifted and your lips pressed together. You nodded. “Okay.” A thousand and one unpleasant activities ranked higher on the list of things you’d rather do than to have to separate from him. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want him to leave.

And he saw that, he felt it.

“It’s getting late.” You fully recognized that was his way of informing you that it was time for him to go. You already knew it, but hearing him confirm it brought you right back to square one.

But this time, time really wasn’t on your side.

You swallowed deeply and suppressed the urge to force him to pry you off as you stepped back only to stiffen when you realized he’d grabbed your hand.

You stared at him, frown deepening. His grip tightened ever so slightly.

And then you got it. It misted over you like the first rain of spring.

He would miss you too.

It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. You’d learned by now that he was a man of few words when it came to these sort of things. To feelings.

His non-verbals relayed the story few were privy to read, the one he kept stored away at the highest and most obscure spot on the shelf.

And somehow, someway, you’d managed to climb your way up there.

You offered a small smile and turned toward the village where you could see the children hovered around Floppy.

“He’s not going to be happy when he finds out he has to leave again.”

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

The pause in his reply, the decrease in volume, it all made you wonder if you were still talking about the Child.

“Come.” You gave your conjoined hands one last squeeze before pulling away and moving toward the path you’d followed to come here. “We cannot delay the inevitable.”

A small part of you wished that he would grab your hand again, that he would drag you to the same spot a few feet away where you’d first been intimate. Even if only to relive hushed memories and whispered sentiments, you’d take anything. As long as it involved him.

“No.” He never reached for you. “We can’t.”

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 020 [Living Valley Online]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Author’s Note: So, this was obviously inspired by the third ending, “Datte Atashi no Hiro” by LiSA. I love that ending and I thought it would be cool to explore that RPG side for a couple chapters! You can watch the clean version at the bottom of this page~

Word Count: 2,344

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“If you don’t like the way I talk, then why am I on your mind? If you don’t like the way I rock, then finish your glass of wine. We fight and we argue, you’ll still love me blind.” Dua Lipa, “Blow Your Mind (Mwah)”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“She was… a villain?”

Toshi nodded, hanging his head. “Alissa grew up as an orphan on the streets. She became a mercenary at a young age in order to survive. As she grew up, she came to care less and less for the rules society tried to force upon her and so… she became a contract killer.”

“A mother fucking assassin…”

“Yes. Her quirk, ‘rogue’, made it an easy profession for her. She could use stealth at will, and she was well versed in all manner of poison and venom.”

“Holy fucknuggets,”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to hate her. Alissa’s rough childhood shaped her into who she became because she had no one to guide her, to show her love. She was utterly alone in life, and she did the very best she could with the cards she had been given.”

“Her past was pretty bad, that’s true,” Aizawa interjected. “But everything she did was her own choice. She understood that better than anyone and she didn’t go around making excuses for her actions. She took responsibility for her poor life choices.”

“Alissa had already begun to turn her life around when I met her. Rather than continuing on as an assassin, she chose to become a bounty hunter instead.”

“Ain’t they the same thing?” I raised a brow.

“No, they’re not. Bounty hunters don’t kill their targets, they incapacitate them and hand them over to the police.” Toshi held up a finger as he explained. “She stopped killing people and started to attack only criminals that had done terrible acts of violence. Actually, that’s how we met. She saved my life from a group of villains when I was in my last year of middle school. Of course, I had heard all of the rumors surrounding Alissasears, but she was surprisingly kind to me. She made sure I was unharmed and safe before taking off. After that day, it was like fate had decided that we would continue to cross paths. And then…”

“She turned herself into the police,” Aizawa muttered. “It was all over the news for months how the police had finally apprehended the famed assassin.”

“But she became a hero, right?” My brow furrowed. “How’d that work?”

“She made a deal with the police commissioner. In exchange for her cooperation and testimony against several top villains that she had done jobs for, they would let her go free. She agreed to this, giving up multiple associates and old clients. Because of her actions, twenty-five top villains of the time were taken into custody, but… she was never free again after that. She was under constant surveillance by both cops and villains. No one trusted her. Just like that, she was completely isolated again.”

“So you weren’t kidding when you said she had a lot of enemies, huh?” I swallowed, leaning back a bit.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Toshi heaved a heavy sigh. “As far as most people are concerned, Alissasears ‘retired’ from being a hero because of the target on her back, but there are a few people that know the real reason behind it.”

“Which is?”

He lifted his hand, pointing a bony finger at my heart. “You, young Jen. When she became pregnant with you, her whole world took on a new meaning. She did her best to avoid the public eye, but with so many people watching her so intently, she knew that that could never happen. Not here, anyway.”

Aizawa humphed. “She kept what she was planning a secret from all of us. She didn’t trust anyone… except for this idiot.”

“Even then, she didn’t tell me everything. The day she tried to leave, for example. Alissa kept telling me that she was planning to make a break for a different world, but she never told me when she was going to leave. And then she tried to run.”

I scratched my cheek, my brain trying to process all of this new information. My head is really starting to hurt… “You told me before that she… uh, died in your arms… How’d you find her?”

“When she was heading for the meeting spot, she realized that the hero killer, Stain, was following her. She panicked… I’ll never forget getting that message from her. I was on the other side of town at the time, attempting to help save a group of women being held hostage. Maybe if I had left immediately instead of waiting, she…”

“Tch,” I leaned forward, flicking him hard between the eyes. He winced, blue eyes snapping to meet mine. “All these years and you’re blamin’ yourself, aye? Not cool, Toshi.”

He gave me a sad smile, nodding his head. “I have many regrets when it comes to her, but… the past is the past. There’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“Hmm, and you’re trying to make amends by taking care of me, huh?” I cocked a brow, folding my arms over my chest.

He jumped out of his seat in surprise, blood spurting from his mouth and onto the white blanket draped over Aizawa, who glared at him. “Of course not! I mean, in a way, I hope it makes up for my failures, but I genuinely do care about you, young Jen!”

“Calm your man tits, I was kidding.” I grinned.

Aizawa continued to glare at him, not that he noticed.

Toshi took me by the shoulders, his expression dead serious. “No matter what happens from here on out, I promise you, Jen, I won’t let the league of villains take you. I don’t know what they want from you, if it’s some sort of revenge or if they have other plans, but I won’t give them the chance.”

His sincerity caught me off guard. My grin softened to a smile as I pulled his hands from my shoulders. “I don’t need you to defend me ’cause I’m gonna get stronger. I’ll defend myself and everyone I care about. Let that blue-haired freak come for me. I’ll make him regret the day he was fucking born!”

Toshi smiled proudly, giving me a nod.

“You can both leave now,” Aizawa grunted. “And get me a clean blanket.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me.” I rubbed the back of my head, giving them a blank look. “Apparently I can teleport,”

“…what?!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Are you fucking serious?!”

I winced, pulling the phone back away from my ear. “Do you have to be so goddamn loud?”

Bakugo scoffed from the other end of the line. “Bitch, you just told me your mom is Alissa-fucking-sears!”

I scratched my cheek. “She’s that popular, huh?”

He was silent for a moment. “Oi, have you told anyone else?”

“No, you’re the only person I really talk to, bro.”

“Good. Don’t fucking mention that to anyone else, got it?”

“D’aww, are you worried about me, Bakuhoe~?” I grinned.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!! And no I ain’t worried about your dumbass! Are you gonna fuckin’ log in or not?!”

“Yeah, yeah, geez.” I put the phone on speaker, setting it on the coffee table beside me before picking up the controller and booting up my game system. “What’s this game about anyway?”

“It’s an RPG,”

I hummed. “Doesn’t seem like your kinda game,”

He scoffed. “It’s currently one of the hardest games to fucking beat. I’m gonna destroy this fucking game and leave all those losers in the dust!”

“‘Kay… but why do I have to play?”

Silence.

“Bakuh -”

“Shut up,” he grunted. “This stupid game doesn’t let you play alone.”

“And you have no friends, huh?”

“S-Shut up, bitch! You don’t, either!!”

Yeah, but I’m not the one trying to play a multi-player game. I rolled my eyes as the game loaded.

“Hurry up and make your damn character!”

“Don’t fucking rush me,” I scowled, selecting the swordmaster class. “Fuck, there’s so many options. Why are there so many options? This is hella detailed for a free game.”

“Che, I’m gonna go get food. You better be done by the time I get back!”

Hm, should I make her look like myself or a completely different person? Making a cute ass guy is also an option. Meh, I’ll just make her look like me with a few subtle changes. Let’s try… green hair? Ooh, girl, green is not your color, fam. Blonde maybe? Oh, that actually looks pretty dope, but it’s too normal. Red? Not nearly as cool as Erza Scarlet. Damn, that blue looks amazing, though. Maybe I’ll dye my real hair that color for a while.

Now for the clothes. I’ll just choose some pants and a basic, plain shirt with boots. I confirmed her looks and the game started to load. I heard a door opening and slamming over the phone, followed by the obnoxious sound of someone munching loudly on chips.

“Are you done yet?”

“Just loaded in.”

“Ignore the fuckin’ NPC and come outside.”

“No can no, chief. Gotta do the tutorial before I can leave.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

I chuckled at his impatience. “Tuts usually aren’t too long, keep your thong on.”

And I was right. Five minutes passed and the tutorial ended. I left the building, a blinding white light filling the screen.

それ以上に上昇 ☆ Living Valley Online

Bakugo was waiting outside the building, leaning against the wooden support beam. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but he was wearing an open vest, the top rimmed with thick white fur. Red fangs hung from his ears, and various necklaces and beads hung around his neck. His pants were blue, white fur between the hem and the top of his black boots. Red cloth was pulled over his elbows and a cutlass was strapped to his waist.

“Fucking finally!” he scowled, holding his palm up. A blue screen projected in front of him and he glanced at me. “Swordmaster, right?”

“Yeah,”

He pressed on the screen a couple times before a sword materialized in his hand. “It’s only a rank twenty, but it’s better than that shitty rank one on your back. Trade me.”

A blue screen popped up in front of me: ‘LordXplosionMurder has requested to trade with you.’ I accepted and selected my sword, while he added the higher level sword and some potions. We both confirmed the trade and I took the sword out to examine it. The metal was dark grey with a faint sapphire-blue glow around the blade. The handle was wrapped in leather with wolves stitched into it with black thread. The game said it was a blue item – rare.

“Let’s go! We need to power level your ass!”

I hummed as I followed behind him, strapping the sword to my back. The fantasy city we were in was called Rune Province. According to the information popping up beside me, this is the main city in the game, but it was only medium-large in size. The buildings were made from white brick and dark oak wood. Lanterns hung beside the doors, a cream-colored candle unlit inside.

Hmm, so it’s a fantasy middle-age type game without electricity.

“Hey, what’s the max level in this game?” I asked, glancing at his back.

“One hundred eighteen.”

“And what level are you?”

“One hundred.” He growled, clenching his fists. “You have to pass through the fuckin’ Jade Forest to get to the level one hundred one area, but you have to have at least one level eighty in your party to enter the fucking place.”

“Sheesh. How long you been playin’ this shit?”

He mumbled under his breath.

“You’re walking in front of me, Bakuhoe, I can’t hear you.”

“Since it came out!” he yelled, earning weird looks from the citizens and other players. “And stop fucking calling me that, bitch!”

If I remember correctly, the download page said this game came out a little under a year ago. Has he been playing alone this whole time? I sped up so I could walk beside him. “So, how are we gonna power level?”

“We’re going to Moonbrick Manor,”

I hummed, folding my hands behind my head. “Sounds interesting. And I just gotta let you fight, right?” He grunted and a screen popped up in front of my face: ‘LordXplosionMurder has invited you to a party!’ I accepted and he stopped in front of a wooden post, atop which was a whitish blue stone with a teal swirl in the center. He put his hand on the stone, grabbing my wrist with the other. A bright blue light surrounded us, blinding me.

When the light faded, we were standing in front of a large wooden door, standing at least twenty feet tall. We were on a stone bridge surrounded by spruce forests as far as the eye could see. I glanced over the side of the bridge and whistled. This shit is hella high off the ground, so much so that I can barely see the river flowing underneath it. The fog hanging in the air didn’t help my visibility, either.

“Stop gawking and let’s go, bitch!” Bakugo barked.

I approached the gate, lifting my hand to the wood. A red screen popped in front of my face: ‘Warning! You are about to enter a level one hundred dungeon. Your current level is one. You will definitely die. Proceed?’

I sweatdropped. No pulling punches, huh? “Uhh, Bakuhoe. Don’t think this area is just a bit too high?”

“Hah? Are you scared, tiger?” He smirked, folding his arms over his bare chest.

The fuck is with that nickname, brah? I scowled, “No, I’m not scared, but it’ll take ten times as long to level up if I keep getting one shot when an enemy so much as looks at me.”

He rolled his eyes, approaching the door. “Just stay the fuck behind me and you’ll be fine, dumbass. I’m not weak like you are!” His body walked through the door as if it were made of water.

I have a bad feeling about this, man.

With a sigh, I accepted the warning and stepped through the door.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

▸ Forward

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[bapha]

Collaboration work with @reluctantlyback for @yoihomezine from last year. We are free to post now, so enjoy! Please read Aza work, it’s a pretty domestic day for the gang. You can read read the fic here or go to Ao3: His Gold by Aza. T, 2.501 words. Canon compliant, post-series, Victuri, russian family.

Yuuri can’t help feeling nervous and awkward during around the Russian skaters his first few days in St. Petersburg. Thankfully, McDonald’s is an international favorite for cheat day meals. And besides, Viktor is there too.

As he laced up his skates and stepped onto the ice, Yuuri marveled at the grand Sports Champions Club rink. Even though he’d already been training there for a couple of days, the sheer enormity of it still stunned him. And of course, the fact that he was practicing in Viktor’s home rink never failed to make his inner fanboy light up with joy.

               Once he finished his warm-ups, he skated to the section of rail where Viktor stood, one finger tapping gently against his lip. “Well? Where should I start, coach?” Yuuri let himself purr the last word, knowing exactly how much Viktor loved to hear it. A faint blush rushed to his fiancé’s cheeks.

               Viktor leaned over the railing. He put his hands around Yuuri’s shoulders and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “One of these days, you’re going to say that, and I won’t be able to stop myself, dorogoy.”

               This time, it was Yuuri who turned pink. He jerked back a little—just enough so that he wasn’t quite so close, but still within Viktor’s arms. “Not here,” he hissed, feeling his cheeks warm further. His coach pouted.

               “We’re alone though,” Viktor pointed out. “The others won’t be here for another hour and a half.”

               “That—that’s not the point!” Yuuri pulled back a little more, trying his best to ignore Viktor’s pout. “Coach Feltsman trusted us enough to arrange for us to use the rink for a couple hours before he comes in. We shouldn’t abuse that trust.”

               Viktor smiled slightly. “I guess… Okay! Let’s work on your short program step sequence. It was absolutely, what’s the English word—stilted! —at the Grand Prix. I want you to keep running through it until I say you can stop.”

               Yuuri nodded. Now that he’d memorized his routines and mastered most of his jumps, he rarely needed Viktor on the ice. Besides, Yuuri thought as he skated out to the center, it was probably for the best that his fiancé conserves more energy now that Viktor was competing as well.

               The familiar strums of the guitar echoed through the near-empty rink as Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself. He took only a moment to become immersed in the music. Only Viktor’s occasional shouted criticism alerted him to the passage of time. Yuuri danced and spun on the ice, taking full advantage of his high stamina to run through the Eros step sequence over and over. He imagined the endless haze of a night spent getting drunk, every pole dancing class, the heat of a night spent with Viktor. That, he knew, was his true eros, his ultimate performance by which he’d finally win a gold medal. By the time his coach called him over for a break, nearly an hour had passed.

               “Very good, very sexy.” Viktor leaned over the barrier again. “I really felt that performance,” he murmured, one hand tracing Yuuri’s collarbone, the other cupping his own chin.

               Yuuri gulped. “W-what next?”

               Viktor sighed and withdrew his hand. “So devoted. Hmm…quad flips. Land three or four in a row, then skate a few laps and try again. Let’s aim for…three rounds.”

               “Yes, coach!” Yuuri pushed off the rail and gathered speed, thinking only of the magnificent jump’s incredible height and power, imagining ice chips flying with the force of his takeoff. He began entry, and with a final push—

               He spun in midair once, twice, three times—four! He landed neatly on one foot, and immediately collected more speed for another jump. Yuuri finished the round and began skating laps, allowing himself to cool down a bit before attempting a second sequence.

               As he entered the next cycle of three jumps, the doors to the rink opened with a bang and a groan and a general clamor of voices and gear rustling in bags. Yuuri recognized Yurio’s shouts and what sounded like Georgi whimpering in pain. A distinctly feminine laugh—Mila, maybe—echoed over the two.

               Yuuri tried to mentally refocus. Now was not the time to lose concentration and flub a jump, not when the rest of the rink’s skaters had just arrived. He skated faster. He moved into the entry position, and out of the corner of his eye, spotted Coach Feltsman moving towards the rail. Pushing for liftoff, he pulled his arms in and jumped.

               Four tight rotations later, he came down hard, double-footing the landing in an effort to stay upright. Frowning, he gathered speed again, catching a glimpse of Viktor’s silvery hair as his fiancé turned to face his own coach. Coach Feltsman gestured wildly toward the ice. Yuuri flinched instinctively and managed only a triple before slamming onto the ice.

               “Yuuri!” Viktor’s voice wasn’t disappointed by any means, but Yuuri couldn’t help feeling wary as he skated towards his fiancé and Coach Feltsman.

               “Yes, Vitya?” He wrung his hands out of Viktor’s view.

               Coach Feltsman grunted, catching Yuuri’s attention, and in his heavy accent instructed him to get off the ice. Yuuri nodded quickly and moved to follow the order.

               As he cleaned off his skates and placed them in his bag, Yuuri noticed that nobody had taken his place on the ice. In fact, Yurio seemed to be engaged in a rather vicious shouting match with his coach, Mila and Georgi standing nearby, mouths agape. Viktor, on the other hand, was watching the confrontation with an amused look on his face.

               Yuuri shouldered his bag, prepared to relocate to the gym or dance studio. He caught Viktor’s eye, and moved to his side. “Where to, coach?”

               Viktor smiled. “Lunch!”

               The arguing between Coach Feltsman and Yurio came to an abrupt halt. Yuuri frowned. “It’s not even noon.”

               “No arguing, Yuuri!”

               “But—”

               “Later tonight, darling!”

               Yuuri felt his face turn bright red. He stammered something out, but it was drowned out by Yurio’s gagging noise.

               “Shut up, old man! There are other people around you two morons! Gross! I’m even a fucking minor!”

               Viktor smiled pleasantly, and it grew to a full-on heart-shaped grin as he spoke. “I should hope not; even if you’re at the age of consent, you’re our kotyonok, so no.”

               “I’LL MURDER YOU, YOU GODDAMN PERVERT—!”

               Yuuri and Viktor made a quick escape, leaving Mila, Georgi, and an exasperated and somewhat terrified Coach Feltsman to deal with Yurio’s sudden, violent rage.

                 By the time they had gathered outside the rink, Viktor had queued at least six restaurant websites on his phone. Yuuri watched with some amusement as his fiancé flicked through another food blog with sparkles in his eyes.

               “Yuuri, what do you think of this place? It’s a Korean place, Makko Li, and it’s got great reviews—here, look.” Viktor extended his phone long enough for Yuuri to catch a glimpse of a cozy brick interior before snatching it back to flip to a picture of a warm but sleek restaurant. “Or we could go to here, Phali Hinkali; it has nearly four hundred five-star reviews. But it is a cheat day, so maybe Italian? A plate full of carbs is a cheat day classic…”

               The sound of doors squeaking open caused Yuuri to glance up. Mila, Georgi, and a reluctant (and stomping) Yurio exited the rink, bags slung over their shoulders. The two older skaters stopped a few feet away from Yuuri and Viktor, allowing Yurio to come to a screeching halt only a couple inches from Viktor’s phone.

               “What are you doing, standing around like that, old man?” Yurio wasn’t yelling, but his harshness was still present. Yuuri noticed distantly that his face was still red from shouting. “You’re blocking traffic. Get out of my way.”

               Viktor looked up, the picture of innocence. “But Yurio—”

               “That’s not my name, damn it!”

               “—we’re all going to eat together! All five of us!” Viktor smiled brightly and walked past Yurio to put an arm around Georgi and Mila’s shoulders.

               Yurio bristled. Yuuri thought about taking a small step back from the blond ball of anger, but one glare from Yurio had him frozen.

               Viktor dragged Mila and Georgi over, nearly barreling into Yurio. “I’ll pay! Join us!”

               Yurio’s frown eased a bit. “Fine, but only because you’re paying. I still hate you all.”                “Perfect!” Viktor smiled, but then frowned. “Where should we go, moy dorogoy?”

               Yuuri thought for only a moment. “McDonald’s. I haven’t had any since I left Detroit, and nothing comes close in unhealthy-cheat-day content.”

               Mila grinned. “…McDonald’s? As in the American burger chain? I’m in!”

               “Oh, I went there after Anya—” Georgi’s eyes began to water, but he quickly choked out assent to eating there. Yurio glared, but didn’t object, so they all began walking down the sidewalk. Mila and Yurio exchanged scathing insults, while Georgi and Viktor made pleasant small talk.

               Despite holding his Vitya’s hand, Yuuri felt isolated. Though Viktor and Georgi made the effort to speak in English, the overwhelming sound of Russian gnawed on his anxieties. At least when he’d moved to Detroit, he’d had a passable grasp of English. All the Russian he knew were pet names and a few choice curses. Before he could worry too much, Viktor squeezed his hand, and Yuuri refocused on Georgi’s somewhat animated tale of his first date with Katya, another woman unsuspecting of the skater’s flair for dramatics.

               By the time they reached McDonald’s, the lunch rush hadn’t quite started, so Yuuri walked right up to the counter. While menus varied slightly between countries, McDonald’s had a fairly standardized selection. Yuuri knew exactly what he wanted: a Big Mac easy on the mayo and liberal with the onions, a medium fry, and a large sweet tea. Viktor, to his credit, didn’t even blink as he placed the order, pausing for a moment after finishing.

               “Pick out my meal, Yuuri? I’m starving.”

               “Uh…I think you’ll like the mushroom and swiss.”

               Viktor pouted. “That’s it?”

               “You and your insanely fast metabolism,” Yuuri muttered. Clearing his throat, he added “Large fry and a small McFlurry, plus a cup for water.”

               “Sounds amazing!” They stepped aside for the others to order, and once Viktor swiped his card to pay, went in search of a table. Georgi and Mila slid into one side of a booth, leaving Viktor, Yurio, and Yuuri to split the other side of the booth.

               Yurio glared. “Idite vy,” he hissed, but after a quick frown from Viktor, stalked off to retrieve their food. Viktor scooched all the way to the window, leaving Yuuri to plant himself solidly in the middle. The table was silent. Mila twisted to check on their order. Georgi tapped out a text.

               Viktor attempted to make small talk, but Yuuri couldn’t manage anything more than noncommittal mumbles. With the Russian skaters listening, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Even though he knew they didn’t hate him, his mind kept going back to his failed quad flips, insisting they resented him for wasting ice time. And, his mind supplied unhelpfully, they had to hate him for bringing disgrace to the rink’s flawless and pristine image. Who was he, his brain mocked, to think he was good enough to practice at Russia’s premier rink—?

               Yurio slammed their trays down. A couple of fries on the top went flying in the air and skittered across the table. “Here’s the stupid food.” He flopped down next to Yuuri, grabbed his burger and drink, and began eating with fervor. The others blinked, and as if electrified by Yurio’s actions, began a mad scramble to properly identify which items were whose.

               Yuuri bit into his Big Mac and had to keep himself from moaning. Good old-fashioned American grease, Viktor by his side plowing through his fries…it was the subject of many a Detroit dream. The pleasant silence brought on by everybody eating calmed Yuuri’s nerves. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was back in America, in the McDonald’s just off campus, sinking his teeth into a meal Celestino would murder him for.

               Almost. Yuuri could not ignore Viktor’s knee against his, or the way his fiancé’s arm brushed against his own as Viktor reached for his McFlurry, or the twin glint of their rings as they caught the noon sun. It made an idyllic if somewhat bizarre scene, and as Viktor reached for another fry, Yuuri grabbed his hand.

               “Hmm? Is something the matter, my Yuuri?” Viktor frowned slightly in concern.

               Yuuri smiled softly. “I just feel so happy right now, Vitya.”

               Viktor blushed, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. His blue, blue eyes narrowed somewhat as he smiled. “I love you too, zolotse.”

               A muffled thump caught Yuuri’s attention. Mila had dropped her chicken tender, mouth still open. Georgi’s eyes became suspiciously bright, and sure enough, he began to cry.

               “Is something wrong?” Yuuri asked.

               “It’s just—” Georgi sniffled. “Such p-pure love!” He began to sob in earnest, fries long forgotten.

               Yurio made a gagging noise. “Blin, keep that romance shit at home, Viktor! Nobody wants to see that out in public.”

               “Mind your language, Yurio,” Viktor singsonged, narrowly dodging a fry flying towards his head.

               Yurio settled for making a rude gesture and refocusing on plowing through his remaining fries.

               “Um, Mila?” Yuuri asked, hyperaware of Georgi’s tears and Yurio’s volatile temper. “What does that mean, ‘zolotse’? Vikor won’t translate it for me.”

               She stared for a moment, mouth still agape. “…gold. It means ‘my gold.’”

               Yuuri flushed, feeling his face turn red as the linoleum seats. “Really?” he asked, turning toward his fiancé. “But I haven’t won a gold yet.”

               Viktor flipped his hair, doing his best to act nonchalant. “Well, you know. I guess you at least got me a gold ring, so.”

               Yuuri smirked slightly, forgetting completely about their company. “Of course, Vitya. I love you too.”

                  By the time everyone had finished their meal, Yurio, Mila, and Georgi were adamant about returning to the rink. Viktor, on the other hand, dragged Yuuri back toward their shared apartment. “I need a little ‘Yuuri’ time,” he’d said, drawing said man into a kiss.

As they walked hand-in-hand down the St. Petersburg streets, Yuuri thought about how nervous he’d been to move to Russia: how he’d worried Viktor’s rinkmates would hate him; that he’d miss Hasetsu excessively like he had in Detroit; that the language would be too hard to grasp; that despite Viktor’s presence, it wouldn’t feel like home.

But Mila and Georgi were openly welcoming (Yurio wasn’t even too hostile), he was slowly but surely picking up bits of Russian, and he didn’t miss Hasetsu the way he once had. His hometown would always be part of his heart, but now...

Yuuri gathered the courage to very quietly say, “Moy dom tam, gde ty.” He burrowed his face into his coat, unable to look up thanks to his blush.

               Viktor’s step faltered for a beat but resumed its steady pace quickly. “I feel exactly the same way, my Yuuri. My life, my love.”

[finalhxaven]

🎵

Send me ♫ and I will make a 5-10 SONG PLAYLIST for our muses! (Still Accepting)

Special Edition: Break Up Cloti and Feel Good Cloti (I’m here to break your heart and then piece it together again lol)

Break Up Cloti

1. Good For You (from “Dear Evan Hansen”)

And you say what you need to say So that you get to walk away It would kill you to have to stay trapped When you've got something new Well I'm sorry you had it rough And I'm sorry I'm not enough Thank God they rescued you

Tifa to Cloud. An angry Tifa upon realizing he would rather be at the church than at home has a few words to say regarding their relationship. She doesn’t tend to be angry much, but at some point with Cloud’s lack of communication reaches all time levels, she would reach a breaking point and say something much like she did in AC. It sounds almost like she’s hurting him on purpose, but there’s another poignant line that sounds very Tifa in this song, being: 

I'll shut my mouth and I'll let you go Is that good for you? Would that be good for you, you, you?

Where she would be openly saying that she really doesn’t know what she could do to make him happy. 

2. Explosions by Ellie Goulding

And as the floods move in And your body starts to sink I was the last thing on your mind I know you better than you think 'Cause it's simple darling, I gave you a warning Now everything you own is falling from the sky in pieces So watch them fall with you, in slow motion I pray that you will find peace of mind And I'll find you another time I'll love you, another time

Tifa to Cloud, and I KNOW I’ve sent this to you before ;) She spends so much time trying to make sure he is okay that she loses self confidence that she as a romantic partner can BE that for him. That if she is always attempting to help keep him together, she gets consumed in it too. And she leaves, even if it might mean someone’s not going to be there to help him pick the pieces up. It’s so bittersweet because he does love her, but his mind is so scattered and still making the effort just to gather itself up, but due to those efforts, it doesn’t leave much for her to have someone. 

Even so though, maybe another time... If things were different...

3. Honest by The Neighborhood

Patience, test my patience. If I made it too hard for you maybe you should've changed it. Say it, you should say it, 'Cause I'd say I was wrong just to make it fill all the spaces. Waiting, always waiting. If I gave you control would you say that (We could've saved it?)

Cloud to Tifa. As much as I love Tifa, if they were to end their relationship this would NOT be all on Cloud. Girl is never honest with him, she always hesitates and almost handles him with kid gloves because she doesn’t want him to break. To not treat him with honesty is painful, and it would make Cloud doubt himself too. 

4. Recover by Chvrches

I'll give you one more chance To say we can change our old ways And you take what you need And you know you don't need me Blow by blow Honest in every way I know You appear To face a decision I know you fear

Tifa to Cloud. But what if she DID be honest? At the culmination of their incapable asses to say ANYTHING, she explodes and tells him he has to be the one to do it. To end it, or to change things. But one thing she DOES want to have affirmed or denied, is whether he feels he even needs her. 

5. Terrified by Among Savages

Yeah, it has been such a long, long time I've been asleep trying to sleep away my life Cause I'm terrified and I'm ruined by this mess Cause I needed you more than I needed to be blessed

I swear I’m not TRYING TO REGURGITATE SONGS FFFF. Cloud to Tifa. The guys been through so much and having uncertainty in a relationship doesn’t help when he’s over here still trying to figure out who he is as a person. He DOES say he needs Tifa, that she helps make him whole, but to see her have doubts also UNDOES him rather than helps.

6. I Hope by Rebecca Ferguson

Loving ourselves comes so easily Forgiveness was like the biggest sin to me And where there was war I wouldn't walk away But after a time I realized that for me to grow I've got to let go

This one is really rough and really particular, if he was interested in Tifa but fell in love with Aerith. The whole song is pretty self explanatory, it’s about Tifa moving on. 

7. Miracle by Madeon

I've been trying to be every man you saw in me But in my eyes I just flicker out And blur like ghosts Before I go, I know Can you show me a miracle? I wish I'd stay the night, but I've got to go to America And this could take a while (mm-hmm) Isn't it time that I come alive? Endless in this life but I don't know how And so I'll go So I'll go

I give up, I’m giving you all the songs I’ve talked to you about I’m just SO SORRY REALLY I AM. Cloud to Tifa. 

So many expectations on a single person’s shoulders makes them crumble rather than thrive. He leaves to find who he really is, and yet. At the same time... 

Can’t you show him a miracle, Tifa?

And what you actually came for: Feel Good Cloti

1. Sway (Chainsmokers Remix) (I’m not linking this one you KNOW IT ALREADY)

Stop! Take it slowly, darling This time I'm feeling a change Stop thinking too much about it Love's gonna heal us again and again Sway! Just move with me, darling And I'm going to move with you too Can't stop, now you got me started On top, such a beautiful view

Words aren’t the only way, right?

2. Mountains by Emeli Sande

He said I'm going to have a bed with lots of pillows And that we're going to build a house with lots of windows And when we have the kids we'll tell them to remind we Of where we were now so we never get lazy

Tifa to Cloud. This is a visceral understanding on how Tifa feels towards him, that even if everything isn’t perfect or luxurious or grand, she really doesn’t care so long as they build something together. But more so than that, they will have a future together based on the dreams and wishes they make now. Also the mountain metaphor and them being from Nibelheim, a mountain town is...

I’m clever okay??? Tell me I’m clever!

3. You and Beautiful World A vocaloid song by Yuyoyuppe

There is something I need to tell you, and though I look for the words I cannot find them. Even though the things to say Are overflowing, I still can't do it. Look at me... Repeating this... All over again...

These words have no heart behind them, just a closed mind; Unconcerned actions are becoming bright. I don't need love like in dramas and such. Just to be by your side That alone is enough for me That alone is enough for me... That's all...

A love confession is hard for Tifa, she was never so good with words and especially when it comes to Cloud. But she’ll try again until she gets it right. For the one she loves, she’ll do anything, even if it scares her. 

4. You Can Be King Again by Lauren Aquilina

You've got it all You lost your mind in the sound There's so much more You can reclaim your crown You're in control Rid of the monsters inside your head Put all your faults to bed You can be king again

Tifa to Cloud. There’s a reason she stays by his side the entire time, and it isn’t for shits and giggles. The love she has or him as pure, and is inspired by the true belief she has in him that he can be more than what he is right now when losing his mind. In OG, she stays by him because she still BELIEVES in him. And that’s some true kind of love right there.

5. Break The Silence by Richard Haddock

I can feel it coming and it's falling down on me I've been losing all control of everything I see Am I losing all my mind on my own? You have been here all along, I know Trying to break the silence My mind speaks in between Feeling trapped and isolated Like it was only just a dream

Cloud to Tifa. Plotwist he knows she’s been by his side the entire time and it motivates him to keep going until he breaks free to the real him.

6. Ultimately by Khai Dreams

Ultimately I don't understand a thing I try to do the best I can I know you try to do the same We're just so bound to make mistakes You could call it a disposition I apologize for all your tears I wish I could be different But I'm still growing up Into the one you can call your love I don't know if I'll ever be enough I'm throwing in my chips I guess I tend to push my luck

Cloud to Tifa. He’s loved her for a long time, but from the very beginning felt he needed to earn you. Grow to become someone worthy of her. Because for all his self loathing and unusual way of going about things, he never stopped going AFTER her. And Tifa finds that so damn charming that he’s always fighting for her, despite the fact she never needed him to. She just wanted HIM. 

7. Omoide Kakera by Nano

I hear the sound of your voice, I hear it echo inside my dreams Turning into memories as they start to fall away And the tears that I cry, washed away by the rain I promise this is where I'll be, Waiting for you

Tifa to Cloud. She’s always waiting for him, to come back. To her, to home, to who he is. But the one constant he will always have, no matter what. 

She’ll always be there. No matter what.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

OMG HOEE YOURE BACK -tears of happiness- I cant wait till chapter 32!!!!!! Cpuld we pretty please have a lil teaser? No pressure. I just need to a taste of your goodness 😇 Luv yaa gurl 😉

I’M BACK BITCCHESS 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

LOOL - of course, you can sweetie! I love dropping teasers, it keeps me motivated 🥰

Here is the teaser! It’s the start, a nice lil’ taste of this crazy chapter because boooooyyy does shit hit the fan in this chapter. Enjoy~!

Rating: SFW

Words: 2000 (a tiny tease, I gotta save some content for when I post 😅)

Notes: WIP; not edited and subject to change, my loves :) Also, I noticed that the start of this chapter is decepitvely sweet for the shit that is about to happen lol - I’m evil.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            “You know…you have beautiful eyes, Princess.”

           “Awe, thanks, Sokka.”

           “Too bad your face is ugly.”

           “I swear-”

           The immature hoots that erupted from Sokka were loud and clear. His belly rumbled in amusement, entertained at my exasperated expression as I rested over his stomach.

           We were lounging in Zuko’s and I bedroom, munching on cookies on our bed, despite it being early in the morning. Zuko already rose and went for a morning jog – and I would be lying if I said I didn’t use the excuse of me being under the weather to avoid that run.

           It was as Zuko was leaving that Sokka busted through the grand doors, still in his polar bear pyjamas, with a plate of cookies in hand – “I wanted to check up on Princess, see how she’s feeling.”

           And that leads us to where we were now.

           I grumbled under my breath, stuffing another fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookie into my mouth as Sokka beamed down at me. Despite the pointless banter and teasing, Sokka and I were venting to each other; I was beyond happy. I never realized how much I missed spending time with him – he was my partner in crime, the person who helped me learn to laugh again.

           And while Sokka has been my side from the beginning – we never got a chance to hang out as much as I would’ve wanted. Appreciate the presence of each other, even though ‘sibling time’ means tons of teasing and humiliation.

           A hand rested behind his head as he leaned against the bedframe, stuffing another cookie in his mouth. His hair has grown so much already.

           Usually, it was up in a messy top knot, but today, he let his hair down. Zuko still had the lengthiest hair out of the guys, but Sokka was starting to prove himself to be a worthy competitor. I was always jealous of how attractive Katara’s and Sokka’s brown hair was. There were natural blond highlights, and it complimented their baby blue eyes.

           “Hey…did Aang bring Momo?” I pondered out loud; brows pinched as I tried to recall the last time I saw that mischievous creature. He was already so infuriatingly elusive, but now that we were in the Kingdom, it was like he vanished.

           “Yeah, but you know how Momo is…” Sokka mumbled under his breath, more focused on chewing the cookie stuffed in his mouth than answering my question.

           “I haven’t seen him once!” I exclaimed, and Sokka snorted, “Join the club. I asked Aang the other day, told me Momo is hiding out in the kitchen.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes hearing that – of course, Momo is there. Appa would’ve joined Momo if he were here and could fit.

           “Explains why the kitchen staff is panicking. They keep complaining that the food keeps disappearing – scared it could be a ghost.”

           “You know what would be really funny…” Sokka mused, and based off the tone alone – I knew he was thinking of something evil. My mouth opened and closed, fighting the temptation to ask because I knew better. There was a reason why Sokka and I got along; we were the definition of dumb and dumber.

           My lips puckered, and the next thing I knew, I turned on my side, facing Sokka eagerly.

           “What’s your plan?”

           Right away, Sokka grinned, sitting upright. I yelped, body rolling onto his lap, and in a bold move – he put down the plate of sweets on the bed. He means business.

           “What if we covered Momo in flour – make him look like a ghost? The kitchen staff would lose their minds.”

           “Sokka~! I can already imagine the mess.”

           “And I can already imagine the looks on their faces when they see a ghost.”

           I huffed, crossing my arms. “No, Zuko will kill me if he finds out it was us.”

           “Keyword, if.”

           “Where is Katara when you need her?!” I groaned to myself. If Katara were here, she would’ve shut down this plan before Sokka could even think of it. She was the mother of the group for a reason – she kept us all in check.

           I grabbed a cookie from the plate that Sokka set aside, shoving it against Sokka’s lips. “Lie back down and eat a cookie.” I pestered, the only way I knew how to distract him. Sokka laughed against the cookie I practically stuffed, trying to chew the whole thing in one go.

           “Aren’t you excited? She’s arriving tonight.” He mumbled between chomps. An enormous smile appeared on my lips, brushing my bedhead hair away from my face. “I can’t wait!” I gushed, body sprawling across the bed as I hugged my teddy bear close to my chest.

           My gaze shifted upwards, staring at the wooden lined ceiling above us, with a silly look. It’s been how long since I’ve last seen Katara? It felt like forever, but I knew it was only a few months. Woah…me and Zuko haven’t been dating for that long, have we?

           It felt like Zuko, and I have been together for years – but not in a bad way. I just felt so comfortable with him. Our routines, how open we are with each other, it was surprising to think that we haven’t been together for that long. But also look at everything that happened, everything we have gone through together…

           It’s no surprise we’re as close as we are. We practically went through everything a couple may experience over their lifetime in a span of a few months. Add in the fact that he’s the ruler of a nation – things get a bit complicated.

           “She’s going to freak out when she hears everything that is going on.”

           I pouted, snapping my head towards Sokka, “She doesn’t know?”

           He frowned, his silliness gone and face stern, “No. We didn’t want to give too much information via messenger bird or attached to Appa. It could get intercepted. It’s not worth the risk.”

           A blue silence fell between us; my gaze returned to the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. Despite all the smiles, the giggles, the sweet moments of bliss – that didn’t change the current chaos around us. Mai is a traitor, Azula is back, and Yakone-

           It was like someone punched me.

           The mere mention of Yakone had a shiver running up my spine, the hairs on my arms rising in terror. Zuko didn’t mention his name once around me, and I wonder if it was because he knew how shaken up I was after the incident.

           And the worst part of it all was I still had the handkerchief Yakone gave me that night when he comforted me, hidden away in my vanity. Gosh, I should’ve thrown it out, burnt it –anything, but keeping it. I didn’t know why I even kept the stupid thing. Maybe it was to remind me that he wasn’t that evil as a man?

           That there was still a little bit of good left in him.

           Yakone knew my family’s crane story. Dumb luck? He’s also a Bloodbender. But Aang told me that-

           “Princess…how is your ‘Fire Nation Politics’ lessons going?” Sokka asked, his voice cutting my thoughts in half. I couldn’t help but jump slightly in surprise, and right away, Sokka’s hand fell over my forehead, a soothing gesture spotting my uneasiness.

           “Hmm? S-sorry, I didn’t hear properly.” I mumbled quickly, looking up at Sokka. He rolled his eyes at my aloofness, flicking my head before speaking again, “You’re lessons involving politics. Zuko told me you’ve been learning a few things.”

           I groaned loudly.

           Gosh, bloody Fire Nation politics.

           The moment I accepted that stupid Imperial Consort seal, I’ve had to brush up on my Fire Nation knowledge. From previous Fire Lords, customs, family trees, and laws – I wanted to cry. It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting, it was just so much information thrown at me at once.

           My hands fell over my face as I internally sobbed.

           “It’s so difficult. I understand the basics, but the system here seems so backwards at times.” I whined into my hands, venting all the annoyance I had bottled up. There were so many things going on; at this point, I felt like I was memorizing words rather than understanding.

           But knowing the rules did help out and gave me the chance to fire that meanie of a councilmember…Maybe I did understand more than I was giving myself credit for. But with everything else going on at the moment, my head hurt tons.

           “Why don’t you ask Zuko to help you out, Princess? He is kind of like, the Fire Lord.” My hands dropped from my face, opting to throw my arms into the air in defeat. “I don’t want to bother Zuko. He has so much on his plate. I want to do this on my own.”

           “But Princess, this is his job. He’ll help if you ask– he wants to help.”

           I huffed to myself, biting my lips in frustration, “I know, but…I-uhh-I don’t know. I don’t want to. Have you seen the book I had to read for this week?”

           Sokka shook his head, and I grumbled to myself, “On my nightstand. See that ridiculously thick book? Yeah, try reading a page and not fall asleep.” Sokka laughed at the evident disgust in my voice, grinning madly as he reached to his side. Just thinking about the book had me shivering in fear.

           But I was trying.

           Watching the way Zuko worked on a daily, it made me want to work just as hard. I wanted the prove everyone wrong – that I wasn’t some arm candy for Zuko. That I knew what I was doing…

           Sometimes; it felt like Zuko was the only one who believed in me in this kingdom. I won the people’s hearts – now I had to prove to the council that I can do this.

           I closed my eyes, letting my arm rest over my eyes, the migraine that I’ve had still dully throbbing.

           It was strange, for the past five or so days, I kept fluctuating from feeling better to isolating myself in bed. My body was hurting; my head felt like a hot mix of heavy and aching. Was having a cold always this annoying? I usually had Katara heal me; I haven’t experienced a full-blown illness in years.

           “I’m gonna read where you have your bookmark,” Sokka spoke, and I merely nodded.

           Although…I don’t remember having a bookmark in my book…I didn’t make it far enough to bother putting one. I could hear Sokka snort as if he was trying to sniffle in a laugh-

           “Yesterday, Zuko used the lounging area after our bath, and I couldn’t be happier! He looked sooooo cute sitting there, reading. He almost fell asleep-”

           “OH MY GOSH SOKKA STOP!” I screamed. This asshole was reading my bloody journal!

[barnesnmrnoble]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Read on ao3!

Word Count: 2000

Summary: Bucky is moving from the couch, carefully detangling himself from the pile of limbs him, Clint, and Tasha had become, before he really registers the soft knock on the door. Clint is half asleep, curled around Tasha like a koala bear relishing in the feeling of her hand carding through his freshly washed hair, while old Christmas reruns of dog cops play on the big living room tv.

A/n: Merry Christmas to the wonderful and darling @cuddlememerrick​! I hope you enjoy dear! Much love from your no so secret santa! 

The pairings in this are pretty vague, its open to interpretation for whoever you want to be together.Or if you want them all to platonic, there is no real mentions of romantic relationships. I tried to keep the reader gender neutral but I may have missed some pronouns or descriptions so if you see any let me know! anyways!

HAPPY READING!

________

Bucky is moving from the couch, carefully detangling himself from the pile of limbs him, Clint, and Tasha had become, before he really registers the soft knock on the door. Clint is half asleep, curled around Tasha like a koala bear relishing in the feeling of her hand carding through his freshly washed hair, while old Christmas reruns of dog cops play on the big living room tv. He grunts softly when Bucky moves him over, but doesn’t give anymore than the grunt and nuzzles back into the brushing fingers over his scalp. Bucky understands, he feels all soft and cuddly in the god awfully ugly Christmas sweater Clint had brought over and made him wear. He isn’t complaining too much, it’s really soft. 

The door swings open with a loud jingle, damn bells Clint had put on every door as “decoration”. Why does it need to be made known that he is opening literally any door in the house, including the bathroom door. Clint really gets into the Christmas spirit and Bucky may glare at him every time he ends up underneath a doorway, because yeah, every doorway also has mistletoe hanging from it and Clint always catches him and kisses his cheek. It makes it really hard for Bucky to keep up with his grinch-y attitude when Clint does nothing but make him smile all day long. 

 “Hey, I didn’t think you got back until next week?” Bucky doesn’t hide his surprise when he opens the door to see you, and he is clearly happy to see you home finally. It’s been two months since you left on a minimal communication op. Nobody had heard from you in the last two weeks, and there had been no mention of you coming home early. Nevertheless, he is happy to see you and knows that Clint and Nat will be too. The four of you are nearly inseparable. 

You look a little worse for wear, a bruise or two forming on your cheek and around your eye, favoring your left leg and heavily leaning against the doorway. You leaning, seems less out of pain and more out of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The question he asked nearly a minute ago finally reaches your brain, and you nod. It’s about all you have the energy to muster up as a response. Really you should've just gone to your own place, taken a quick shower and crashed for the next four days but you couldn’t override the part of you that needed to see them, that needed to have company after two very long months being completely alone and isolated. 

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate, he knows just what you need. He bends over and scoops you into his arms, bringing you over to the couch and plopping you down between Clint and Nat. He disappears for a minute and comes back with another one of Clint’s ugly sweaters, strips you of your tac vest, and carefully replaces it with the soft fabric of the sweater. He throws another look to Nat and they do their freaky “silent conversation with their eyes” thing and she kisses your cheek before she runs off down the hallway. With Nat’s departure and Bucky off doing other things again, Clint attaches to you like a sleepy, happy parasite, and you can’t help but join him. 

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you start to wake up to Clint hovering over you with a washcloth, carefully wiping away the dirt and grime on your face. Apparently while you were out, he took the liberty of brushing your hair out and twisting it into a neat braid that pulled everything from your face. You have no idea how he manages, but anytime Clint plays with your hair, it becomes so soft and all you want to do is run your fingers through it. 

The apartment smells different than when you fell asleep, like chocolate. It smells like Bucky’s amazing chocolate chip cookies, and when you see him appear from the kitchen with a plate freshly baked cookies you can’t help the grabby hands you make at him. “Are those…?” There isn’t much need to finish the sentence, by the smile on his face Bucky knows what your about to ask and his dopey grin answers the question. He nods, before he goes back to grab drinks. 

Tasha glides into the room a moment later, three large pizzas and what looks like little jars of black and grey goop balancing precariously on top. With one hand, she grabs onto the jars and blindly throws them your direction and Clint barely moves to catch them both easily.  Nat drops the pizza onto the coffee table, opening the first box and grabbing a piece. She holds it out for Clint and he cranes his neck to take a bite before grabbing one of the jars (of what, you haven’t figured that out yet but you’re too tired to try.) “Bucky, come on, hurry!” You snort quietly when you hear Bucky huff his way back into the room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.” 

“What's going on? I think I missed a lot in my impromptu nap.” Clint beams with his blindingly bright smile. “You did. Face masks, comfort food, a good christmas movie,” He puts his hand by his mouth and whispers not so quietly, “and a little alcohol.” You hum happily and make grabby hands in the direction of the alcohol and cookies Bucky brought in pointing at him and saying “You. Are my favorite.”

“Hey! What the hell! This was all my idea.” You raise an eyebrow at Clint and he squawks indignantly. “It was!” You can’t help but laugh, pulling your legs from where they were folded underneath you and wrapping them around Clint like he’d been doing earlier. “You’ll always be my favorite, hun.” He winks at you, placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek. Bucky is now grabbing Nat and plopping them both down on the couch at your back, forming a similar cuddle pile to earlier, now just with the addition of you. 

It’s been two long months of being alone with no one to talk to, none of Clint’s big smiles and dumb dad jokes (and most importantly, no Lucky.), none of Tasha’s softness that’s reserved only for the people she loves, none of Bucky’s giant hoodies and his amazing cooking. And maybe two months isn’t that long but it felt like it, and you want nothing more than to be a little buzzed and curled up in between all of them. 

Your peaceful train of thought is interrupted when Clint drops a glob of freezing cold black gel onto your face and starts to spread it around. “God, Clint! That’s freezing!” He just shrugs and smooths it out across your face. Behind you, Tasha is spreading the grey gel on Bucky, who is complaining just as much as you are. This stuff is really really cold.

 Luckily for you, once Clint and Nat finish lathering your faces in the masks, they turn to do it to themselves and Clint spends the entire time complaining much louder than you had. It’s karmic justice, and really, it’s the little things in life that make you happy. 

Clint has yet to tell you what the movie is but when he gets up to get it started, you realize why. He picked Die Hard. You and Tasha have been arguing with Clint and Bucky for months that Die Hard is not a Christmas movie, going as far to tweet Bruce Willis about it. The boys still refuse to believe that it’s not a christmas, even after Bruce Willis replied with “It’s a goddamn Bruce Willis movie, boys. Not Christmas.”

“Really Clint?” He nods, a mischievous smile on his lips before pulling you tight against him again. “Hmm, hand me a piece of pizza?” 

______________

The four of you watch the movie in relative peace, Bucky, -weirdly enough- is the one to cause the ruckus. When the timer you’d set for the face masks goes off, well, let’s just say taking Bucky’s off was a bit more painful than the others.

 “Tash?” She looks up at him, immediately realizes her mistake. Her eyes are wide and a bit sympathetic but she is doing a poor job at hiding her amusement. Bucky sighs. “This stuff isn’t supposed to go in my beard is it?” Nat sputters and shakes her head and Bucky is whining again because they have to peel it off and that shit hurts when it’s not stuck in facial hair. Beyond your laughter, you do sympathize.

But it’s an odd picture to see the fearsome Winter Soldier tearing up while pulling off his face mask.

It takes him almost 20 minutes to finally pull it off, and by the end, it hurts so bad, he makes Nat just rip off the last of it around his eyes. Which of course, was a big mistake. The moment it came off Bucky threw his face into Tasha’s chest and you could hear the litany of curses that bled from his mouth. Clint couldn’t hear it, he’d taken his aids out a while ago, but he could relate, he’d done it the first time him and Tash had done face masks. 

____________

It’s nearly midnight when you start to drift to sleep again, Tasha is asleep, her head in your lap. You’ve bashed through four Christmas movies.  Well three, and Die Hard. Your entirely too full on pizza and cookies. You’re sure you ate through 3/4 of Bucky’s cookies. But it’s nice, it leaves you with this warm and fuzzy feeling that’s entirely too ironic with the holiday cheer surrounding you. 

Clint took your hair out from the braid after you pulled off the face masks and was now running one hand through the hair again, carefully pulling out the flecks of the mask that had gotten in your hairline. It was probably what was lulling you to sleep. You fight the strong pull and press your lips to the calloused skin of his palm, at least where you can reach. You pull your hands from Natasha’s grip and sign as best you can to Clint, Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. He only hums deep in his chest and presses his lips to your forehead. You reach across Tash and poke Bucky’s shoulder, who is clearly about to crash hard, his eyes flutter close only to spring back open every few seconds and you know the only reason he is staying awake is the bet he made with you and Clint that he would be the last to fall asleep. He is pretty notorious for being the first to fall asleep during team movie nights. 

He won’t ever admit it, but it’s easier for him to fall asleep surrounded by the team and people he trusts then when he is alone with himself. Though it’s extremely rare to find any of the four of you without each other. Whoever is out on an op, it is guaranteed to see the others in together, cuddling or sleeping, or really just spending time together. If the boys are out, its you and Nat, if it’s you and Tash, the boys find comfort in each other. It’s a nice balance for a group of touch starved assassins.

You sign to him as well, unwilling to break the air of comfort by using your voice, thank you. Now, sleep. He gives you an incredulous look, silently telling you he won’t lose the bet. I don’t care about the bet. Sleep. 

You should get everyone at least to the bed or somewhere more comfortable than the couch, you know you are going to wake up with a kink in your neck and most of your body sore but you don’t care, it’s just how it is and you know none of you would ever change it for anything.

[winterysomnium]

What’s left (is you) [2/3]; ; Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku;BNHA; word count: 4,900+ words; rated: PG-15; warnings: slight gore, violence,full tags on AO3; 

notes:  hii decided to update since I edited the parts I wanted for this chapter and the more I read it over the more I doubt myself so it might be better to just post it. Thank you for all the support on AO3! ♥

summary: After the pro hero Deku loses his memory as a result of an assassination attempt, Shouto is struggling to cope with everything his boyfriend’s recovery entails: from the threat of another attack to the possibility of Izuku’s memories never coming back.

 (Oh, and did Shouto forget to mention that he’s 90% sure Izuku was trying to break up with him before the attack, on top of everything?) 

read the story on AO3

The first week Izuku’s back home is the easiest by far.

Shouto has a lot of paperwork to sort out and Izuku’s mostly spending time with his Mom; he can’t really watch too much TV or be active on his social media at all, so they chat to each other all day and Shouto gives them privacy, as much as he can. Their apartment came with an extra room they didn’t have any particular use for so Shouto put in tatami and essentially turned it into a copy of his dorm room: he keeps a spare futon rolled out in there most of the time anyway.

(As nice as beds with mattresses and thick covers were, some nights Shouto preferred the simplicity and comfort of the soft futon and the feel of tatami under his feet and Izuku respected that, indiscriminately.)

Whenever Izuku was on a long mission out of town, Shouto tended to sleep there rather than alone in their bed, the space too vast without the other, somehow. It was also where Izuku would surprise him sometimes by arriving early, pressing Shouto into the sleepy futon and they’d fuck, sweetly, heatedly; they missed each other enough to just stay there all day, soak in the soft, tender affection.

It’s been a while since Izuku has lost to his want and desire completely, loving Shouto to the core like that.

It all adds to the situation: Izuku’s in their bed thinking it’s solely his own, he has been keeping something from Shouto that neither of them know now and they hadn’t had proper time to be with each other for about two weeks before the attack.

It strengthens Shouto’s resolve not to say anything, to keep lying about their relationship, by omission.

(He doesn’t want to have to explain all that to Izuku, anytime soon.)

Shouto can hear Izuku’s Mom talking with him softly through the door and Shouto feels like he’s eavesdropping, listening in on something sacred and raw.

The first night they’re all home, he lets his frustration and fear slide down his nose and drip into the pillow: it needed airing and the covers a wash, anyway, so he does nothing to stop the tears. All the pictures of him and Izuku were hidden away and it almost felt like Shouto was a spirit: he’s stumbled into a future he fears, an intruder of an incomplete home, of a frightening possibility. It’s almost like they’ve really broken up, like his thoughts have created a universe of their own, throwing him in.

And yet it doesn’t compare to the feeling of accompanying Inko to her train and driving the two of them home, alone for the first time in weeks and as Izuku hums along to a new pop song he’s had the opportunity to memorize already, Shouto’s glad he doesn’t have to talk.

In twenty minutes, they’re alone in the apartment and Shouto’s reheating yesterday’s leftovers, the atmosphere between them thin but sluggish, awkward in a strange, unfamiliar way.

It reminds him of the first time they’ve had a fight, when Shouto was 18 and the notion of being loved hasn’t sunken in yet properly, a weekend away at his family home was enough for him to return moody, shaken and torn between setting himself or everything around him on fire; closing himself off from anyone he could hurt the only option left. The thought scared -- no, terrified -- him and he got overwhelmed, he’d pushed Izuku away and he yelled something dumb and hurtful and he made Izuku cry, Izuku didn’t let it show but Shouto saw him rub his sleeve across his cheeks forcefully.

They were shipped off to a field day together the next morning in class and Izuku was upset and angry and didn’t even want to look Shouto’s way and Shouto was sure he had destroyed everything, everything that truly mattered in his life (his heart).

(Perhaps there was a curse, after all, to become his father, to become his hated half, to become the person who hurt Izuku the most.)

Shouto apologized after their class had ended; resting his forehead against Izuku’s tense back, his shoulders so guarded he felt unreachable, like a pretty sea shell at the bottom of the waves.

Shouto apologized, said he’d understand if Izuku wanted to break up but that he didn’t want to, really, really didn’t want to and the spot where he rested his face against Izuku’s costume was damp and heavy with salt, with his unspoken apology. It was then that Izuku’s defenses seemed to thaw, just enough for him to open up his arms, his warm self to Shouto’s lost hopes.

Izuku probably realized just how scattered Shouto was that day.

(Shouto wasn’t a cracked pane of glass or a cup with a chip on the rim; he was a fully crushed human being, a plate shattered against the far wall.)

He has just started to meld some of his pieces together.

If Izuku held him in his palms, he’d get cut.

The atmosphere now feels tentative in the same way but he tries not to mind it: he puts their plates onto their usual spots while Izuku pours them hot tea.

They exchange a soft, quiet itadakimasu and start eating; Izuku keeps looking up at him across the table and Shouto tries not to see.

“Todoroki-kun?” Izuku asks as Shouto puts down his chopsticks to place his cup to his lips, he’s trying to swallow down the dry, irritating lump in his throat. Izuku still holds his chopsticks and fumbles around with a piece of chicken between them on his plate.

“Hmm?” Shouto hums rather than answers and he drinks his tea too fast; the liquid still a touch scalding on the roof of his mouth. “What is it?”

“What’s your favourite food? It feels kind of stupid to ask now but I’ve been trying to remember what it was all evening but -- couldn’t. So, will you tell me again?” The question is innocent and so is Izuku’s expression: he’s genuinely curious and yet it confuses Shouto’s heart.

(He’s happy about his favourite food being something important, he’s saddened about it being something Izuku doesn’t know.)

He smiles softly, hoping his flush can be blamed on the tea.

“Zarusoba. Iida tended to scold me for never eating anything else in high school.”

Izuku snorts, likes he’s relieved, finally putting the chicken bite into his mouth. “He seems like the type. Do we usually eat dinner together, the two of us?” He gestures and Shouto picks up his chopsticks again, too.

“When we can. Our schedules don’t always match up, though.”

“Who’s the better cook?”

“Your Mom.”

Izuku snorts once more, his grin matching Shouto’s own amused look.

This is nice, Shouto concludes, in its simplicity, its given rules.

Shouto feels … nice.

“And here I thought you’d be a chef supreme, given your quirk,” Izuku notes, amused and Shouto shakes his head, regretfully.

“The only thing I’ve ever successfully made was rice porridge.”

“Am I good at cooking?”

“Not particularly. Bakugou’s been teaching you though. He gave up on me, if that’s any consolation.”

“Huh, Kacchan didn’t say.”

“He’s probably mortified by the thought of you calling him out on doing something nice and helpful for once and someone overhearing.”

“Ah, yeah, probably. He kept insisting he only visited me because Ochako kept pestering him and it was annoying. He’s … kind of a bad liar, isn’t he?”

“And he’s even worse at being honest. Just watching him sometimes is exhausting,” Shouto agrees and it’s as if that word -- exhausting -- has unlocked all of the fatigue trapped within his bones, all at once.

An early night sounds like the best kind of plan for tonight.

They finish dinner and leave the dirty plates in the sink; they wish each other goodnight at the thresholds of their neighboring rooms.

If he tries hard enough, Shouto could pretend that Izuku’s just going to his night shift and he’ll find Shouto in the morning, cuddling up sleepily into his back.

If he tries hard enough, he’ll remember the feeling of Izuku’s kisses on his temple.

If he tries hard enough, maybe his chest will stop aching, so tirelessly.

---

Shouto’s Wednesday isn’t really going well as is, the attack investigation not progressing beyond what they already know: the incident was a coordinated effort to take down and favorably assassinate -- that word still makes Shouto’s heart stop, every damn time -- the hero Deku, attacking all of the bigger agencies in the area in order to isolate him and complicate any backup attempts, with the ultimate goal of rendering him unable to continue his hero duties any further.

But they still don’t know who instigated it or if there are more factions than the cluster of villains they’ve caught and as much as Shouto’s glad that he’s gotten leave to unofficially guard Deku 24/7, not being able to take part in the interrogations is frustrating in itself and it leaves him restless, hyper aware of how inactive he is.  

What he needs is a good, long, proper sparring session.

What he gets is a call from his Father.

Despite them being -- reconciled, of sorts, a decade of stored anger and resentment isn’t something you can simply wish away and Shouto’s been working on it, he has and his therapist would probably tell him not to answer the phone if he’s already in the middle of a constant low grade anxiety attack but here he is, answering the phone like an idiot, snapping at every question and riling up both of their tempers, needlessly.

The call is short, shorter than his Father intended and Shouto knows Endeavor just wanted to comfort him, in his own way, that he just wanted to be the soothing parent to his son that he’d never truly been when Shouto was a child but … it feels misplaced.

(Why couldn’t he have tried sooner?)

On top of that, Shouto’s Mother is away on her planned spa treatment and her cell phone access is limited, which has probably fuelled Endeavor’s check up call further, and that’s partly on Shouto as well. Shouto told her to absolutely not come back when everything happened, that they’re fine, Mom please, please but right now Shouto just wants to curl up and beg his Mother to hold him until he forgets he’s no longer five.

That or break his Father’s nose.

Calm down, he tells himself, his quirks buzzing louder than his heartbeat through his head; he can feel how drastically different his opposing fingers feel to touch.

Man, today really sucked.

Shouto didn’t notice Izuku was sitting on the couch until he stands up, putting the book he’s been reading away.

“Todoroki-kun? Are you alright?” Izuku asks carefully, the concern so obvious on his face it’s almost painfully endearing.

Almost.

Shouto sighs. Rather than a spar, maybe he just needs a nap.

“I’m fine, Midoriya,” he says, trying to convince himself alongside Izuku and if that name -- Midoriya -- isn’t just another layer of messed up twisting his skin tighter and tighter, he doesn’t know what is.

Breathe. Don’t think about your Father. Think about something you have to do.

(You have to stop getting so angry about stupid things, first of all.)

Izuku draws him out of his thoughts, effortlessly.

“I know this might not be the best time to say this but -- I’m sorry, Todoroki-kun. For what I said.” Izuku fidgets and Shouto blinks, trying to remember when Izuku said anything that he’d need to apologize for -- his mind is unhelpfully blank.

“Sorry for what?”

“For what I said about getting to meet your Father, the first time we talked about him. How I said how excited I must have been to meet him and all that. I’ve noticed your reaction was sort of -- off at the time but I couldn’t tell why and I still don’t know what happened between you but I think -- I think he hurt you somehow, has been hurting you and I didn’t even consider thinking about your family situation and that not everyone even has a family and -- I. I just. I’m sorry, for not noticing sooner. For not apologizing sooner.” Izuku’s eyebrows center his expression into a frown and he’s wringing his hands, like he’s trying to iron out all the scars and crooked fractures, like they’re physical marks of his mistakes --

Shouto’s been thoroughly disarmed.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s not your fault,” he insists, sort of bewildered that it’s an issue at all.

That Izuku’s been weighted down by something like this.

Izuku wring his hands harder. “It kind of is.”

“Midoriya --” Shouto tries but he knows there’s no arguing that look Izuku gives him, that look of not backing down, of doing whatever he’s set his mind on doing --

It’s your power!

Shouto slumps in his shoulders.

He’s so, so tired and yet Izuku just existing gives him something akin to hope.

“You were the first person I’ve ever told about it,” Shouto confesses, quietly and he hears Izuku’s weight shifting on the couch, he’s watching him over its back, resting his knees on the cushions.

He’s still supposed to be on bed rest, technically.

“So we were close?” Izuku asks and Shouto lets out a breathy laugh at the memory.

Are you All Might’s secret love child or something?

“No, not really. We’ve barely talked when I approached you. I guess I just thought you could relate, somehow.”

There’s a pause, like the world’s stopped to take in a lungful of air, giving Izuku a moment to recreate the unknown memory.

“Not many people know, do they?”

“No.”

“Why… why haven’t I told anyone? Everyone?”

“Because you knew that’s not what I wanted.”

Izuku looks down onto his own clasped hands, a little less high strung. He looks oddly regretful, like he’s realizing he’s made a mistake on a test he’s just handed over, like he’s forgotten something important at home. “I guess I can understand that. He was already the number two hero when I was in middle school and something like that would surely cause uproar, whatever it is. And more than anything, I probably wanted to protect you…” he trails off and there’s warmth spreading throughout Shouto’s limbs, despite how bone weary the rest of him feels.

“You’re the same as always, aren’t you, Midoriya? You still want to help everyone, memories or not.”

“Ah, do I?” Now Izuku’s the one who looks a little bewildered, a little sheepish, eyes and mouth shy.

Shouto smiles; he’s surprised how easy the expression comes. “I admire that about you,” he says.

And oh, Shouto must be imagining the slight flush on Izuku’s face, the way he ducks his head, away from Shouto’s face.

It must be just another illusion of the sun.

---

[ 2:57pm; from: Yaoyorozu]

How are you two holding up? Please greet Izuku-san for me.

[3:01pm; to: Yaoyorozu]

we’re fine. will do.

[3:03pm; from: Yaoyorozu]

Has he remembered anything yet?

[3:07 pm; to: Yaoyorozu]

not yet.

I’ve got some files on Point Blank and the others involved in the attack from the Endeavor agency

I’ll send them over.

[3:10pm; from: Yaoyorozu]

That would be most helpful! It would be good to finally find more clues in there. Hopefully Izuku-san will recover soon as well.

[3:11pm; to: Yaoyorozu]

thank you.

 [3:47pm; from: Yaoyorozu]

Just for the record, you can count on me, Shouto. Call me if there’s anything I can do. Okay?

Shouto doesn’t answer, but he knows.

He knows.

---

There were times when Shouto regretted giving Fuyumi a key to their apartment.

Right now is definitely, hundred percent one of those times.

“Shouto! You weren’t answering my calls this morning so I came in to check if everything was okay!” Fuyumi enters the apartment with the confidence of a winter storm on the first day of holidays and she slips out of her boots and into her designated slippers with surprising agility; Shouto swears he barely blinks before she pulls him into a heartfelt hug, leaping through the living room.

“Hey, little bro. Long time no see,” Natsuo greets him as well, thoroughly ruffling Shouto’s hair a minute later and messing it up with a delighted smile.

He’s always been oddly entertained by leaving Shouto’s hair a convoluted mess.

“Fuyumi, Natsuo,” Shouto addresses them, too frazzled to say anything more.

Fuyumi gives him one more good squeeze and spots Izuku walking out of the kitchen, lured out by all the noise and aims her fond, welcoming energy towards him, too, just a touch softer, a touch more reserved.

“Izuku-kun,” she calls out and Shouto’s face gets red simultaneously with Izuku’s; Fuyumi holds Izuku’s shoulders gently before she wraps him in a loose hug, careful of his lingering aches.

“I’m happy to see you look so well!” she lets out a relieved sigh against his shoulder and Shouto definitely prefers Natsuo’s subtler methods: he just waves at Izuku from where he’s leaning on Shouto’s shoulder; he’s never been one for hugs.

“Ah, um, thank you --” Izuku’s eyes slide over to Shouto, taking in the appearance of the siblings, the resemblance is unmistakable. “--um, Todoroki-san?” he tests out and Fuyumi steps away, there’s a somber undercurrent to her smile.

She hasn’t really been a person Izuku could recognize from his middle school days and it sinks in that it’s still the case; Izuku’s memories still lost at sea.

“Just Fuyumi works just fine, Izuku-kun! I’m Shouto’s older sister. That’s Natsuo, Shouto’s older brother. We helped the two of you move in way back so I still have the spare key Shouto gave me!”

“That was for emergencies only, Fuyumi,” Shouto complains, rubbing at his cheek, suddenly itchy and a little too warm, not entirely from Natsuo’s added weight at his side.

“Well you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried.”

“I forgot it in my room. I’m fine.”

“I’ve also missed you, you know. Natsuo did too,” Fuyumi points out and Natsuo glances away with a look that says he wants to protest but knows it would be an embarrassingly see-through lie: they’ve gotten fairly close over the past several years.

“I was thinking we could all go out for lunch together! Our treat,” Fuyumi continues, her disarming smile fully equipped to defeat any and all half assed excuses Shouto could come up with, Izuku’s feeble attempts to decline just as ineffective against her charm.

Shouto won’t even try to fight her on it, not with the way she steers the group to the door.

“You don’t have to do that, Todoroki-san,” Izuku tries, nonetheless and Shouto gives him points for doing so but Fuyumi just waves her hand dismissively.

“Please? I don’t get many opportunities to spoil my little brother and he’s definitely not going to go without you. Also, I can share all the good Shouto stories. What do you say? You won’t deprive me of the rare opportunity to mildly embarrass my brother in front of his friends, will you?” she pleads and Shouto’s not sure he likes the curious, conspiratorial grin Fuyumi and Izuku exchange between them but on the other hand, he’s willing to sacrifice a bit of dignity to see Izuku smile like this.

Relaxed, eager, interested in stories about Shouto like Shouto matters, like he’s important in Izuku’s life.

Natsuo snorts at Shouto’s face knowingly and messes his hair up some more.

(Shouto doesn’t bat his hand away.)

He doesn’t regret giving Fuyumi the key, anymore either.

(He fully regrets it again two hours later after his sister’s told yet another story about him that startles a laugh out of Izuku and it would be so much better if it wasn’t about five year old Shouto’s misconception of where babies come from.

Oh, well.

Izuku’s laugh still might be worth it, in the end.)

---

[group chat]

Midoriya: guys!! why didn’t you tell me we have movie nights on Thursdays!!

Uraraka: aah, you found out about that huh >>;;;. did Todoroki tell you?

Bakugou: wtf Deku it’s not even Thursday for like three more days. shut up some of us have work to do

Midoriya:  well SOME of us have been betrayed by their own classmates??

Midoriya: and roommate??  

Midoriya: it was my turn to choose the movie too! and I had to find out because of an alert on the TV

Midoriya: of all things!

Iida: Izuku-kun, I take it you’re doing alright? Also, we always cancel our weekly cinema viewing when someone’s badly injured, so I was going to send out an official cancelation message tomorrow as well.

Jirou: fr once im with Bakugou … as much as I am happy yurr ok Midoriya, Ive gotten home from my shift like two hours ago.I havent slept in like two days. imma be gone now, bye

Ashido: oh hey guys! and I’m sorryyyy Midoriya-chaaaan, but that’s the law of 1-A! Also honestly I’ve forgotten that you’ve forgotten@@

Uraraka: yeah yeah! and if you want we can have one this week!

Uraraka: also you didn’t kill Todoroki right he hasn’t said anything yet

Todoroki: I was in the shower.

Tokoyami: is it wise to have one when Midoriya still hasn’t recovered

Tokoyami: it might be a lot to take in

Midoriya: I think it’ll be fine! I’ve been talking here more often over the past few days so movie banter should be fine as well, right?

Uraraka: do you even know that many movies, with your memories?

Midoriya: hmmm I think so?

Midoriya: I can get help from Todoroki, too

Todoroki: sure thing, Midoriya. but tell me if you get a headache.

Ashido: aren’t you both at home?

Ashido: why are you texting each other on here ;;; weirdos

Kaminari: speaking of movies!! have you guys heard about the new All Might movie documentary???!!!

Midoriya: oh my god

Midoriya: OH MY GOD THERE MUST BE SO MANY NEW HERO DOCUS

Uraraka: Izuku-kun?

Uraraka: …

Uraraka: I think we lost him orz

Todoroki: is it a good time to show him his hero DVD collection

Midoriya: MY WHAT

Midoriya: TODOROKI

Uraraka: oh he was still here!!

Ashido: also did Kaminari just come in here to say that

Uraraka: looks like it

Ashido: guess we’ll talk about the movie night later then? have a good day everyone! It’s really sunny out here in Sapporo!

Uraraka: yeah, for sure! to you too, Mina-chan!!

Uraraka: it was nice to catch up! ^^

Bakugou: I’m muting you all

Bakugou: jsyk

---

Cold, clammy dread sets in Shouto’s chest two seconds after he tells Izuku where to find his extensive hero documentary collection -- there’s a panicked, unwelcome thought stirring at the back of his mind.

Shouto … Shouto thinks he put something in there he didn’t want Izuku to see.

It might not be anything revealing, he tells himself, trying to bring his heart back to its proper place, back to the tight press of his chest. It’s probably a latest hero magazine issue or the various little memories of some trips they’ve taken together or maybe it’s one of the many pictures Izuku has with All Might that Shouto has hidden to avoid some too close questions … it’s probably just the magazine. It’s probably something hero related.

(It’s nothing about them, right?)

Izuku brings the answer with him ten minutes later, carries it in his arms and inside of his shoulders, just when the nervous churning inside of Shouto has subsided, swept away by the quiet lull of sounds.

He should’ve gone with him, shouldn’t he?

“When were you going to tell me?” Izuku asks from the doorway, tone level and low; there’s an odd, wiry stiffness to his shape.

He’s not wringing his hands or moving his feet when Shouto looks up at him, but his voice, his fingers, are trembling against each other.

Izuku’s clutching one of their photo albums in his hands, so tightly the points of contact dip like there’s gravity collapsing around his fingertips and he looks, he looks -- shell shocked. Disappointed. Livid. Hurt.

The dread explodes inside of Shouto’s gut.

Izuku’s anger looks pained, painful.

(Shouto can’t even find words anywhere close to his mouth, lost between his skull and his throat.)

“Were you going to tell me?” Izuku asks once more; he’s subdued, he’s monotone, he’s looking at Shouto like he’s never seen him before, like he’s been replaced.

Shouto’s heart burns in his chest.

“Midoriya --”

“It’s Izuku, isn’t it? It’s probably been Izuku for a while,” Izuku cuts in, something derisive, self-conscious in the tone, like he’s been the punch line of a joke and he’s just found out publicly; like he’s waiting for someone to laugh.

Like he’s looking for someone to blame.

Izuku looks at Shouto.

Shouto feels oddly blank.

“I wasn’t,” he answers, the words slow, sticking to his lips. He’s looking down at his lap and his words feel loud, too loud, too sharp.

(He doesn’t want to look at Izuku, not when he’s saying things like this.

He doesn’t want to see.)

“I wasn’t going to tell you, no.”

Izuku slams the photo book against the table, hard.

(Shouto flinches.)

“Why?” Izuku demands, like he’s the echo of his own voice, like he’s pulling back to throw a punch, stronger, louder, the longer he screams. “There must be a reason, right? I mean -- we still haven’t figured out -- we don’t even know if I’ll ever get my memories back! I might never get them back, Shouto!” he shouts and Shouto’s name feels like a slap, a flicker of burning.

“So tell me! There must be a reason! Were you hoping I wouldn’t remember? Were you trying to end things like this? Like a damn coward? Was it something else? Shouto! Why weren’t you going to tell me? Look at me and tell me!”  and Izuku’s -- Izuku’s started to cry.

Shouto’s earlier conviction of his motives, his infallible logic and unshakable decision all feel minuscule: they feel pitiful and selfish when faced with the sense of grief on Izuku’s face, faced with the thick lilt of Izuku’s voice, the starry, wet constellations spilling across the map of his cheeks.

(Shouto feels ashamed.

So, so deeply ashamed.)

He had managed to hurt him, again.

They resonate, Izuku’s feelings, they catch on the hidden depths of Shouto’s fears and wishes and ground-down emotions and they amplify, they amplify, they amplify; Shouto looks at Izuku and he’s trying not to cry, too.

His voice is shaking when he speaks.

(His feelings burst.)

“I didn’t know what I was supposed to say! Was I supposed to say that I love you but don’t know if you still love me the same way? That there was something wrong before you were attacked and that you were lying to me and that I’ve realized you were trying to break up with me? Was I supposed to lie to you back and pretend nothing was wrong? Was I supposed to explain all of this to you two days after you’d woken up from a state so bad we thought you would die?” There’s a tear on Shouto’s lip, a tear that slips down the slope of his chin, a falling star.

It’s okay to cry, he’d been told.

It still feels like he’s stealing Izuku’s sadness, Izuku’s place of hurt, for himself.

Shouto drags his knuckles across his cheek, angrily.

There’s more he wants to say.

“I didn’t want you to think I’ve used your memory loss to -- to make you love me again. How was I -- I didn’t know what to do with all of this. I still don’t know what to do with all of this! I’m no good and you’re too good, Izuku. You’re too kind and you’d feel guilty, you’d feel obligated to return my feelings, you’d be the selfless you that you are and pretend to love me and Izuku, you’d just -- you’d hurt us both, that way. I -- I didn’t want that.”

Shouto touches his lip, tries to swallow the dry feel of his throat and he wonders if this is how bombs feel after they detonate: scattered, light, earth bound, gone.

Destructive.

Bad.

“Shouto,” Izuku breathes, sown into the spot by the thread of Shouto’s pain, his honesty; he feels woven into time.

He kneels in front of Shouto after a beat, his drum of a heart leading his feet; he kneels in front of the man he barely knows yet knows the most of all, the man he wants to comfort and his palms take hold of Shouto’s face, hesitant.

Izuku’s never been faced with a love like this: with someone’s heartbreak unfolding in his palms.

His smile is a seismic curve.

“Damnit, I can’t believe Kacchan was right. We are as bad as each other.” Izuku’s fingers tighten, press, he’s holding onto Shouto as much as Shouto’s holding him, the affection shoved into his gut known and unknown at the same time: he wonders if this is how he feels every day, every time he sees Shouto’s face.

(He thinks he does.)

“Shouto… I -- I’m sorry. I should’ve known you had a reason, but. But I still wish you’d told me.”

“I didn’t know how.” Shouto’s reply barely registers and Izuku bites his mouth, more frustrated than ever by his lack of progress, by the things he’s missing so effortlessly, like they’ve never been part of him in the first place, like they’ve never even been there.

He’s frustrated, he’s tired, he’s scared.

He’s scared this is all it’s ever going to be.

(He can’t let it be just this.)

“I still don’t remember us,” he admits, quietly, something brave and firm rising in his chest, something that pushes every doubt into a place he won’t wander into, anymore.

He’ll remember.

And if he doesn’t, if he doesn’t --  he’ll just relearn Shouto all over again.

“But I will. I’ll remember. And if not then -- then you’ll have to be patient with me. And I might make you wait for me, for a little bit, because I’ll have a lot of things to catch up on and a lot of things to rediscover but -- but, Shouto. From the moment I woke up, you were there for me. And I thought -- I thought you were most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And you were so kind. I felt -- protected. I felt important.” Izuku laughs, a sound almost kissed upon Shouto’s mouth itself. “I was so disappointed when you said we were just roommates. I was so bummed out because I knew you were someone I could see myself falling in love with. Maybe I already am, all over again. So just … bear with me, for a little while longer?” Izuku lifts his lashes, he’s hopeful and determined and brave, so so brave, even with his pulse sprinting ahead, a gated flood.

(Shouto drowns.)

“Okay.”

He presses his face into Izuku’s shoulder and stays.

“I will.”