#I just needed to like…put it somewhere that’s not just my head

[keferon]

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

___________________

Magical Golem Prowl anyone? ‘,:) This story exists in the same universe as Spellbound au. and Monster hunter au and ties them together so I highly recommend you read all of them.

The fic under the cut⤵️

He seemed to be nothing.

The emptiness that infinitely defined his nonexistent self bounced off the metal plates and glinted in the droplets of still-warm energon. He was nothing, but there was so much around him that the space was like an infinite buzz of cluttered noise. The voices above him sounded excited. The metal slab beneath him was cold and hard.

“Good. Now you need to put a piece of your armor on this. Somewhere it will be in plain sight and easily reachable.”

“Oh...wouldn't it make more sense to hide it under the armor? I mean, it's an obvious weak point.”

He idly thought, his hands felt numb.

“No no, that's the whole point. You're using an artifact you haven't fully studied and you don't know exactly how it's going to turn out. If it goes crazy and becomes dangerous, you should have an easy way to destroy it. Where's the artifact by the way?”

The tinkling of metal.

The sound of a crystal clattering against armor.

Warm hands on his head.

“Here.”

“Excellent. Now. This will be the base on which the entire spell will be held, so you want to hide this artifact very well and secure it carefully so it doesn't break by mistake.”

Did he have hands too? He was nothing, why did he have hands? It didn't make sense.

Orion took a couple steps away from the table and stood pensively.

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave, hitherto distracted by an almost invisible spot on his shoulderplate, glanced leisurely over Orion's shoulder

“Golems don't need much to function. You made a good shell. The magical structure is strong as well, I see.”

Orion hesitantly pointed to the golem's forehead, decorated with a neat sharp chevron.

“I added some things that weren't in your instructions and I think I made a mistake somewhere.”

“Golem making is a complex skill, don't give up if it doesn't work right awa...you know what, actually no, you did everything right.”

Orion shrugged in frustration.

“Then why won't it move?”

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“ Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion walked back over to the table with a quiet “oh” and nervously clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

The emptiness that forever defined his nonexistent self stammered. He wasn't nothing. He had a purpose and that purpose shaped him, put strength into his numb limbs and molded his lack of thought into naked intent.

He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded.

He stopped being just nothing. He became his purpose. And it felt so right that it was unclear how he could ever have been anything else before.

He opened his optics.

Orion, who apparently hadn't expected that the thing he'd made specifically for it to move would move, jerked back with a funny sound.

On the opposite side, Shockwave nodded proudly, returning to the spot on his armor that even in the bright lights of the workshop only he could see.

“I believed in you.”

_________

“Oh my god! How do you sneak up on me so quietly every time?”

He wasn't nothing anymore. He was a whole long list of instructions and rules. His creator sat him down at a table and meticulously listed everything he could and could not do. Handed him many books and ordered him to attend a huge number of lectures. He now knew who to bow to if he passed them in the hallway and who to avoid. He had learned hundreds of names and thousands of titles. Learned how to pretend to be a real Mech, even though he wasn't.

The world around him was complex and confusing, but he found that this complexity had its own patterns, linked together in a bizarre web of systems and sequences. It was worth pulling on the right end, and the meaningless facts organized themselves into something much more manageable.

Everything made sense. The planet revolved around a star. Mechs rejoiced when they got something that improved their quality of life. Energon burned, producing energy. Big things tended to be heavier than small things.

The world was divided into Mechs and monsters...and him.

He was inclined to be...quiet.

His creator - he'd asked to be called Orion - twitched when he found his creation standing right behind him.

He was very talented at finding Orion wherever he was. And very light compared to most things his size. Like everything else it made sense. He wasn't a Mech, he was just an empty shell. An armor summoned to life by magic. His footsteps were as quiet as a mini bot's. Whatever Orion called it, he wasn't 'sneaking' on purpose.

A few cycles later, Orion accidentally bent one of its finals when he turned around too quickly, startled by the quiet footsteps behind him.

He named him Prowl. It was...not exactly logical, but there was a certain sense to it. Prowl nodded and agreed. He always agreed with everything Orion said, even if it didn't make sense at all. Orion's opinion took a higher priority than anything else.

Until it didn't.

Until Orion gave him a focused look and told him that he should argue if he thought it was necessary.

Until Orion put the servo on his shoulder and said something along the lines of....

“You can disagree with me if you think my opinion is wrong. I'm not asking you to go against me. I'm not perfect and I can't be the one absolute point of reference for everything. You can and I'm sure will be smarter than me about many things. I want you to tell me if I'm wrong and what I should do about it.”

Like…well….like an absolute fool.

This concept was new. Prowl wasn't built to argue. He was made to obey orders and to serve a function.

Orion smiled slyly. At least it was probably a smile behind his mask that made the corners of his optics lift.

“It wouldn't be considered a disobedience of my order if I ordered you to disobey it. Don't you think?”

Prowl opened his mouth to agree out of habit, but then changed his mind mid-motion and closed it back. It...it didn't make sense. It made sense that was breaking under its own weight. It was mercilessly mixing up all of his pre-learned patterns for talking to Orion. If he agreed with that logic now, it would mean accepting its use. If he protested, it would also mean accepting it, but in a bit more embarrassing way. Just when he was thinking of simply retreating silently to the nearest shadow and banging his head against the wall, he heard a quiet chuckle and realized that Orion had been amusing himself for some time now, watching him struggle.

Prowl decided that verbal responses might be overrated and frowned his face in the most believable expression of displeasure he could portray.

Orion broke out into laughter.

________

“What exactly is my goal?”

Orion looks. Curious. He stops talking to Shockwave and leans back on the bench.

“Right now, to study these journals. I already told you.”

Prowl nods to indicate he heard him and continues

“Studying serves a future purpose. Studying for the sake of studying would be meaningless to me. What is my final goal?”

“To assist me” Orion says slightly confused. ”Within the best of your ability of course.“”

“Аh. Assist in the fulfillment of your goal.”

“Well. I'd say so, yes.”

Prowl nods

“And what is your goal?”

Shockwave, who has been sitting next to them the whole time looks like they're a couple of previously unknown to science species he's just personally discovered.

Prowl ignores him.

“I...you remember the separation between Mechs and monsters, right?” asks Orion cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Mechs...are unfair to monsters. Monsters are cruel to Mechs. It's a needlessly violent situation that I want to...try to. Fix.”

Prowl frowns to indicate that the information isn't completely clear.

“You're a member of the order of hunters. And...” he shakes his head toward the nearest window ”...you have a considerable number of hunters under your command. Your job involves destroying monsters.”

Shockwave makes some sort of quiet amused sound and props his chin up with his hand.

Prowl ignores him harder.

“My job is to bring peace.” says Orion “You don't have to kill monsters to do that. You can negotiate with them. Find a compromise. Coexist. I...I guess basically, I'm trying to make the world a little better?”

Prowl doesn't look impressed. He's actually making a special effort to not let Orion think in any way that he might be intrigued by the whole endeavor.

“You do realize that's a disproportionately large goal for just one Mech, right?”

Orion shrugs awkwardly

“That's why I made you.”

__________

Ratchet puts aside his tools and critically examines his work.

“Don't touch that and it will heal normally.”

Orion smiles gratefully

“Thank you.”

Ratchet is important to Orion. They are close and very valuable friends to each other. The two of them look peaceful now, despite the fact that Ratchet threatened Orion when he first showed up in Sick Bay, so Prowl decides it would be a socially acceptable moment to start talking

“Orion, you're wanted at the Council.”

The second half of his line is drowned helplessly in two startled exclamations at once. Orion, to his honor, calms down almost immediately, but Ratchet continues cursing for a while.

Prowl doesn't wait for him to finish. The Council meeting is earlier than usual today and Orion has already had a few occasions of misbehavior. It's in his best interest to at least show up on time this time.

“Shockwave asked me to tell you to hurry. I will add that showing up at the last minute will not be good for your reputation if you are still hoping to convince the council to let you take more units.”

Ratchet .....stares.

“Primus' rusty hinges, Orion, who's that? Did they assign a nanny to you?”

Orion twitches his finals playfully and immediately crinkles in pain, remembering that one of them should have been left to heal.

“Remember when I wanted to find an assistant? Well...”

Ratchet casts an increasingly more suspicious look at Prowl. Prowl decides that friendliness is overrated and limits his expression to a barely perceptible tilt of his head in response.

“...Shockwave recently helped me figure out how to create golems and I figured if I couldn't find anyone I could trust, I might as well...make one. So. Ratchet meet Prowl.” finishes Orion awkwardly.

Ratchet glares at Prowl for a while longer. Then he turns away and starts tidying up Sick Bay.

“I'm not buying it. I don't know where you found this guy, but you're not playing me. Nice poker face by the way.”

One of Prowl's wings twitches

“He wasn't lying.”

Ratchet snorts grumpily.

“Those...” he waves toward the next room ”...are golems.

There, behind the wall, several golems scurry around. They have medical staff symbols painted on their shoulders, and there is not a trace of thought in their eyes. Two are scrubbing the floors, another wiping the shelves and window sills clean of dust. They occasionally mumble softly under their noses or utter an inane “excuse me” every time they accidentally bump into each other. Prowl knows that if you ask any of them a question with more than one variable, they start babbling guiltily and shrugging their shoulders. They're stupid, but they themselves don't seem to care about that at all. They are their purpose. And their purpose is to keep things clean. They are pride because they are good at their job.

Prowl frowns. He's a headache. Because his "purpose" has been distracted by his conversation with Ratchet and will probably add another tardy to his list in the near future.

Orion begins (thank goodness) to move toward the door

“I've made improvements. There might have been...some not exactly allowed artifacts.”

Ratchet rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. Prowl can see that his face is already starting to wrinkle in that spot. Patient antics probably age Ratchet far more effectively than the passage of time itself.

“I...you know what...go before the Council sends a search party to look for you.”

Orion sighs and without further distraction finally walks out the door.

Prowl decides that Ratchet might be a good ally when it comes to managing Orion.

He nods politely goodbye before leaving.

______________

“I am different from them. Why?”

Orion puts down the document he's been working on and looks first at Prowl and then, over his head, at the other golems scurrying down the hallway with brooms and rags. He doesn't need to interject exactly who he thinks Prowl is different from.

“Do you want a philosophical answer or a technical one?”

Prowl reaches out and pokes somewhere in Orion's document

“ You missed a comma. Both.”

Orion obediently puts the comma in and folds up the document. His finals are twitching faintly. It could be a sign of concentration as well as distraction. Prowl has already figured out that Orion's body language is a double-bottom trap. For a Mech with this level of expressiveness, Orion is surprisingly difficult to read.

“Sometime quite a while ago during one of my expeditions, I found a unique artifact. A fascinating item, granting wisdom to anyone brave enough to use it.”

“I have a feeling a ‘but’ is coming.”

“You're right. The artifact's unique gift was also its curse. It fed so much information through the Mech's heads that it literally caused the processors of its owners to melt.”

“Oh. Good thing I don't have a processor then.”

Orion laughs quietly

“Indeed. You won't have that problem. And about the other part....Think of all the Mechs you know who are savvy enough about politics and available to work together at the moment.”

Orion gives him a moment before continuing.

“ What is the likelihood that the most trustworthy of them would betray me, for their own gain or out of fear?”

“ Twenty-eight percent,” Prowl informs.

And then hesitates a moment.

Orion is obviously a smart Mech. Not smart enough to single-handedly dominate the political arena, definitely not with his ideals and ideas of what's right. But smart enough to realize it. He knows what he wants and he also knows he can't achieve it alone.

Prowl looks at Orion, who just stands there, eyeing him, without in any way trying to continue the conversation.

Orion is idealistic, and therefore often mistaken for stupid. He isn't. Orion doesn't just know that he can't succeed alone, he knows that everyone else knows it too. He thinks this knowledge will be used against him when the opportunity arises. He's right. By Prowl's count, at least three suspiciously clever Mechs were going to sweet-talk their way into becoming Orion's assistant one way or another before... he appeared.

One of the janitor golems runs past them down the corridor. He doesn't turn around, doesn't even slow down or cast a curious glance. His only goal, his only interest is cleaning. The rest of the world might as well not exist at all.

Prowl thinks he's not that different.

Orion apparently reads the understanding from his face, because he nods contentedly and starts walking further down the hall.

“You didn't take yourself into account when you made the statistics, did you?”

Prowl follows him silently on his heels. Not close enough to be familiar, but not so far away that the conversation stops being private.

“The sampling condition was all mechs. I am not one.”

“That's true” Orion shrugs “You have no loved ones that the Council could use to influence you. You have no desires to be bought by their fulfillment. And while I cannot say with absolute certainty that you will never be capable of going against me...” Prowl starts to open his mouth to object but Orion gestures him to stop, “...no no no no, let me finish. And while I can't be sure you'll never betray me, I at least know for sure that before you met me you had no reason to do so. Do you understand?”

Prowl understands. It makes sense. He still feels the need to argue back, because it is part of his function to do that.

“I would never betray you. I'm not capable of it.”

Orion twitches his finals. Without seeing his face Prowl assumes it is a sign of doubt.

“You are a creature of intellect, Prowl. I am a Mech of ideals. Those two things don't always combine well.”

______

“Foolish and presumptuous.”

Prowl ponders that his function could be much easier if he didn't have to constantly try to balance what is right and what is right in Orion's eyes.

“If you were spotted, the Council would have good reason to assume this isn't the first time you've done something like this.”

“No one noticed,” Orion tries, but Prowl doesn't let him finish that thought

“No one has seen you, because you're lucky. You can't count on it being a permanent occurrence! You undermine your own position by giving the Council grounds for suspicion, you...”

Prowl stops, still pointing his finger accusingly somewhere on Orion's chin. Shockwave, who has witnessed the scene, makes an impressed face and steps closer.

“I swear, you're probably the most capable golem maker I've ever had the pleasure of teaching, Orion. If I hadn't seen that guy on your assembly table, I would never know.”

Prowl takes the statement as a compliment, but doesn't feel the need to show it outwardly. Shockwave, as one of the few who knows about him not being a real Mech, doesn't take offense to it in any way.

“Did I interrupt something dramatic?”

Prowl snorts, because the gesture maintains just the right amount of judgment for his situation.

“Orion is once again harboring a monster instead of killing it or letting it escape.”

This news immediately enlivens Shockwave's posture. Prowl knows he's an even bigger fan of collecting suspicious side projects than Orion. Their friendship, frankly, will one day bury either one or both of them. Prowl just hopes his presence will be enough to sway the percentages when that happens.

Orion doesn't try to deny anything.

“One of my squads encountered a ghost near the northern border. I couldn't... listen Shockwave, he's a good guy. He just needs to be given a chance to show it.”

“Can he talk?” there's almost visible stars in Shockwave's eyes..

Prowl slumps his shoulders helplessly, already knowing what's coming next. These two have done this dance a hundred times before. One of Shockwave's favorite side projects was a school for, as they called them, magically gifted and extraordinary Mechs. In fact, it was the largest den of various monsters that Prowl had ever seen. Every time Orion's hunting squads found a monster that could even remotely resemble a normal Mech, Orion would rush with happy optics to hand it over to Shockwave for care. There, the monsters were taught everything they needed to fit into the society of normal Mechs, but more importantly, they were given documents. Precious pieces of paper that granted their holders rights, freedoms, and protections as Shockwave's apprentices.

Prowl could appreciate the noble endeavor. He could also see clearly that with each addition, this school would become more and more of an inconvenient thorn in the Council's side. Just like Orion, Shockwave was happy to paint a brighter and brighter target on his own back for many cycles.

Orion, insensitive to danger that is not immediate, cheerfully begins to recite

“Can read, write, speak, even makes music.”

Shockwave nods happily

“Introduce us?”

Prowl wonders how far Shockwave can stretch the definition of “magically gifted Mech”. One day Orion will pick up a Kraken on the street and then they'll both probably have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to make it's documents. Ugh.

When Orion had asked him to calculate the probability of betrayal, the most reliable mech he was evaluating at the time was Shockwave.

Twenty-eight percent...

Prowl wonders how many students must be on the opposite side of the scale from Orion for Shockwave to choose in their favor. Speculation is actually useless. If the Council decides to nail Shockwave, they will of course use his entire school at once.

In fact, they probably won't even have to force Shockwave to choose between the school and Orion, because Orion himself will choose a bunch of monsters over himself.

This ridiculously dangerous social construct they call friendship rests entirely on their reputation as honest and honorable mechs. Prowl stares at Shockwave's back and wonders how one mech could have so much charisma, that he gets away with keeping a huge number of Council enemies right under the noses of that same Council.

_________________

Orion gently lifts the now graying shell of what was once a monster from the ground

He doesn't even turn toward Prowl.

"Did you kill him?"

Killing...it's a stretch. Does the act of helping a murderer qualify as murder? Or the lack of action that could have saved the now murdered person? In most cultures and languages, “murder” refers to the act of ending someone else's life, but the context implies a physical act. Did you put a knife in his back? Did you push him off a cliff? Did you cut him with a sword?

By those criteria. Well. Prowl never killed anyone. Nor is he likely to, for he has neither the skill nor the strength to do so.

Did he cause death? Absolutely.

Orion's always had this heroic streak that wouldn't let him just pass by the distressed and disadvantaged. Orion has always had a great spark of kindness and principles as strong as titanium alloy as to what is right and what is wrong.

In Orion's world view, murder is wrong. And murder in conditions where it was possible to solve everything by peace is immoral and unacceptable.

Prowl's worldview tells him that Orion could do much better if he stopped wasting his potential on helping those who will only drag him down in the long run. Orion's life depends entirely on the Council's opinion of him. A Council that has been watching him closely lately. Even if Orion doesn't like it, it's Prowl's job to make sure they like what they see.

Orion turns to him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Prowl. That mech tried to escape. Past you. And now he's dead. Were you the one who killed him?"

"No," says Prowl, "he ran into one of the patrols."

That statement is missing a good half of the details. Like mentioning that the patrol wouldn't have been there in the first place if Prowl hadn't sent them an anonymous lead.

Orion doesn't need to know that. Orion lives under the idea that every life is precious and, even more inconveniently, equal.

Prowl sometimes feels like yelling at him for it. Because that shiny perfect picture is simply unsustainable outside of Orion's head. The monster, whose graying body now lies on the ground, would be of little use to society. Likely left free, he would have simply continued to attack and kill travelers.

Whereas Orion spends his life making the world a better place. This is an objective fact confirmed by numerous observations.

They are not equals. And they probably never will be. Orion's life is much. Much heavier on the imaginary scales of statistics.

Orion squints at him suspiciously. He's clearly hesitant.

"You could have just let him go instead of killing him."

The trap is honestly too obvious.

"I didn't kill him" Prowl repeats "he ran into a patrol. You can't blame the hunters for doing their job."

Orion places a hand on the dead creature's forehead in a respectful gesture of regret while simultaneously averting his gaze. It's a habit by now.

Look the other way, don't let the council know what you're doing. Sympathize but not in plain sight, help but in secret.

"They had no right to attack him.This is neutral territory. He has the right to run wherever he wants."

Prowl's mouth is twisting with the urge to argue. To say that according to existing information, this monster would have just continued the attacks if he'd stayed free.

He says nothing. Orion is clearly in no mood to argue right now, and he's already questioning Prowl's claim. It's not worth pushing any further.

Prowl only nods, showing that he's heard Orion's point of view.

__________________

He is surprisingly good at lying.

Of course the skill doesn't just come naturally, but he's been known for his straightforwardness. Mechs automatically expect him to either remain silent or tell the unpleasant truth.

All he has to do is give only certain bits and pieces instead of coherent information without changing his usual behavior in any way and the mechs won't be inclined to verify it, filling in the gaps themselves. As a golem, he can't lie, but he can get others to lie to themselves.

He exploits this a lot. Probably more often than Orion would approve, but Prowl doesn't ask him to confirm. Conversations with Orion tend to narrow down his list of options. Because Orion is a real living mech. With a spark. With feelings. And his complex moral code revolves entirely around what he feels to be right.

Prowl has no spark. Prowl has an empty armor that he considers his body and a wisdom artifact that he considers his worth. Both his and Orion's understandings of what is right...overlap...sometimes.

Not always.

______________

"I saw a demon in person for the first time today."

Prowl politely shifts his posture to show he's listening

"A …demon?"

"Demon" Orion repeats "When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like."

Prowl remains silent, waiting for a continuation that never comes. Orion seems gone in his thoughts....

"And what does it look like?" prompts Prowl.

"Creepy. It looks creepy and unnatural and terrifying. Primus' wrath has a very ugly shape..."

"Ah...I see...what did that mech do to be met with such punishment?"

Orion frowns

"I'm not sure. But what we're doing can't go against Primus' will, right? I mean, all beings are his creations! He can't condemn us for trying to make peace between mechs and monsters..."

Prowl is familiar with the concept of punishment for wrongdoing. But something about the very idea...the idea that punishment will find you no matter how well you hide because you can’t run away from your own spark...he has to admit it's disturbing.

"I hope he doesn't."

——————————

Thoughts?👁

Ahsjfjfj

This is the first half of the fic btw because I don’t have enough time to translate the whole thing in one day. I’ll try to post the second half tomorrow🤞

[flowermist7432]

Taking the "Fix" outta the equation what I am gonna say is deliberately a scoffer, and generally coined as Unhelpful; because the ones saying it are often misunderstanding parents or masses of "Arm-Chair Girlies" who think being condesending about therapy and medications is all anyone ever needs.

But, sincerely start trying to go outside. Put time out of your day to find a specific spot that you feel most comfortable and make it a habit. Make it a time that you can look forward to! Walking the dog, Biking, exercise, reading, gardening, bird watching. If you disabled and just find it hard for whatever reason- maybe open a window or sit in the backyard, porch. Open your bedroom curtains for all thats heavens.

And always, ALWAYS get dressed before you head out. I think its best to put on an outfit you really like and can be comfortable in! Im not saying you HAVE to get dressed to the nines, but I am saying dont go out looking like a bum. I dont care what your top shirt is or make up or any o' that, but you gotta brush your hair and put on some sorta pants. This also helps you get into the mindset of "I am going somewhere". I even use this trick for when I am not even going anywhere! I just put on my clothes and shoes and It immediately makes me concious and alert and even start thinking "hm well I am dressed i COULD go outside..."

In the words of Jake the dog;

"Yeah? Dont you always call sweatpants 'give up on life' pants Jake?"

"I do because peeps need to respect themselves when they leave the house, even if its just for ice cream or TP or whatevs."

[inkedinshadows]

In the Arms of Dawn

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

A/N: aaa I'm finally sharing these eheh! Thank you @anarchiii for this request, I loved writing it (and hopefully it's enough to be forgiven for my last fic?🥺) As usual, I yapped lol

Prompts: "Get up. This is not place to die." + "I don't know how to do this without you." + "Don't tempt me." + angst + smut

Warnings: blood, injuries, nightmares, oral (f receiving), p in v

Word count: 2.3k

Cassian lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a gash in his stomach.

His hands pressed down on the wound, but blood seeped through his fingers and pooled beneath him, staining the dusty ground.

Your own hands were covered in red from trying to help him, but to no avail. You didn't have healing magic and you couldn't even winnow. The battle still raged not too far from where you had managed to drag him, and you had no idea where Rhys, Azriel, or even Mor were. No one was coming to help you save your mate.

“You can't die,” you pleaded, cradling his face between your hands, not caring that you were smearing his cheeks with blood.

His eyes fluttered open, but all that escaped his lips was a groan.

“You can't die,” you repeated. “Cass, please…”

The tears you had been trying to hold back finally spilled over and rolled down your cheeks, but you refused to let that stop you. You would find a way to save him. You had no idea how, but begging and pleading wouldn't get you anywhere.

“You have to leave,” Cassian rasped, his pained gaze meeting your desperate one. His breaths came in sharp pants, but he still forced the words out. “Get somewhere… somewhere safe.”

A flicker of anger sparked in your chest. “Don't start,” you snapped. “I'm not abandoning you.”

“Y/N…” he tried again, but you shook your head before he could say another word.

“No.”

A new determination took hold of you. Cassian wasn't going to die—not on your watch. But you had to be strong for both of you before the situation became even worse.

“Get up,” you ordered, your voice now steady and firm. You wiped away your tears, probably smearing some of his blood on your face, but you didn't care. “This is no place to die. Now get up.”

Cassian blinked once in confusion at your sudden change of approach before attempting to move, pushing himself up on one elbow. It was all he could manage with one hand still pressed tightly to his stomach.

“I… I can't,” he groaned. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if that small movement had drained what little strength he had left. “I'm sorry…”

Fine, then. If he couldn't get up on his own, you would carry him back to camp. He was too tall and heavy for you to make it on your own, and it would have been a struggle even without the broken wing dragging behind him, but you'd be damned if you gave up on him.

“Alright,” you breathed. “We'll find another way.”

You studied him—the larger wounds, the smaller ones, the right place to put your hands so you could lift him. In the end, you settled on placing one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapping one of yours around his waist.

“I need you to help me with this, okay?” you urged him. You waited for him to nod before continuing. “On three, we stand up. Can you do that?”

Cassian nodded again, though weakly. “I'll try.”

You counted slowly, giving him time to gather a little more strength, and then you both pushed up with your legs. Cassian let out an agonized scream and you stumbled under his weight, but you held on. Your arm tightened around his waist while your other hand gripped the arm he'd draped around your shoulders.

But you were shorter than him and carrying the full weight of a grown Illyrian warrior all the way back to camp seemed impossible.

“One step at a time,” you decided. “But we have to move fast. You just keep your hand on that wound, alright?”

You had no idea how you kept your voice so steady as you took charge of the situation. Maybe it was desperation pushing you to act—to use your brain instead of simply crying like you wanted to do.

To his credit, Cassian tried. He was struggling, you knew that. Each step drew a pained groan from his throat and his wings dragged through the dirt. Blood still spilled from his stomach like water from a leaking faucet. But you both pushed on.

You didn't make it far.

Cassian's steps faltered after only a few feet. “My love…” he croaked, and then he was slumping forward—so suddenly that you didn't have time to steady him.

He collapsed to the ground with a thud and a whimper. You dropped to your knees beside him, turning him onto his back so you could help him up again.

But his eyes were closed and he was panting. You placed your hands over his, pressing down on the gash. His warm, sticky blood coated your fingers once more.

“Cassian,” you called, somehow managing to not lose control—yet. “Cassian, c'mon, open your eyes.”

His lids fluttered, but they didn't open. He didn't say a word. And as the gravity of the situation sank in, so did the despair.

You couldn't get him back on his feet without his help. And even if you did, the camp was half a mile away. You wouldn't get there in time to make a difference. You probably wouldn't get there at all.

“Open your eyes, Cassian,” you tried again, your voice now carrying a hint of the desperation twisting your gut. “Just open your eyes…”

Nothing. No movement, no response. And then you realized—he had passed out from blood loss.

At least he was still breathing. At least you had that.

But what could you do now?

“Please don't die,” you whispered, tears spilling over once more. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the faint, unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Please, I… I don't know how to do this without you…”

Cassian's voice rang in your head like an echo. “Open your eyes.”

You shook your head, eyes still shut as you held him close. His voice sounded so far away, like he was already slipping away from your grasp. And why was he asking you to open your eyes when he was the one who wouldn't?

Then you heard it again, but this time it was all around you, as if he were whispering in your ear but also shouting from afar.

He was repeating your name. Over and over, like a plea.

And then, two more words.

“Y/N, wake up!”

With a jolt, your eyes snapped open. Cassian hovered over you in the faint morning light, his hands on your shoulders as he tried to shake you awake. A wave of relief washed over his concerned expression when he realized he had finally pulled you from your sleep.

“You're alright, sweetheart,” he reassured you. His thumbs brushed your cheeks and you realized only then that you were crying. “It was just a nightmare.”

You threw your arms around him, pulling him back down next to you. You curled up against his chest and buried your face in the crook of his neck while he wrapped you in his arms. His warmth and familiar scent seeped into your senses, soothing you just a little.

For the past ten days, you hadn't been able to shake the feeling that this was the dream: being here with him, both of you alive and well. It had taken him a whole week to heal and you'd spent the entire time next to his bed. But he had been barely conscious, and the nightmares had come to haunt your sleep. It was always the same memory, over and over again.

As soon as he was back on his feet, Cassian had taken you to the secluded cabin in the woods you'd bought together years ago. But even spending the last few nights snuggled up with him had done little to help—to the point that you didn't need to say a single word for him to know what the nightmare was about.

“I'm right here,” he murmured into your hair. “Az found us in time, remember? I didn't die.”

You could feel his pulse from where your head rested against his neck. You let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat envelop you like a reassuring reminder of the life still thrumming inside him, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

Cassian stroked your hair and your back, leaving gentle kisses on the crown of your head and whispering tender words in your ear. He gave you time to sort your thoughts out on your own, but he was still there for you, whatever you needed. Just like he always was.

“I guess I’m still scared sometimes,” you whispered after a few minutes. “That the nightmare is real and that this…” You gestured to your entangled bodies. “This is the dream.”

His hands cupped your cheek, lifting your head from the crook of his neck. His eyes were soft when they met yours.

“This isn’t a dream, sweetheart. It’s real.” He peppered your face with kisses, from your temple to your lips. “And I can prove it to you.”

Despite the small smile his onslaught of kisses brought to your face, you frowned. “How?”

Cassian just smirked, and you had to hold back a laugh as you shook your head. “Don’t tempt me, Cass.”

He looked surprised at your response. Pulling back slightly, he raised his brows. “Wait,” he said, “you would be up for it?”

He had been clearly joking then, if your reply had caught him off guard. But as you thought it over, you wouldn’t say no to some intimate time with him. Cuddling was nice, but maybe this was what you needed to stop the memories from haunting you. Cauldron knew how long it had been since the last time you had slept together.

“As you said,” you replied with a smile, “it’s a good way to prove that this is real. And I also miss it.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up and he pulled you closer. “Then let me prove just how real and alive I am,” he murmured against your lips before claiming them in a deep kiss.

He pushed off the sheets and rolled onto you, caging you between his body and the mattress. His mouth moved to your collarbone and you let it ground you in the present, in this very moment. Your mate was here, kissing you, touching you, slowly pushing your nightgown up.

You lifted your arms to help him take it off and his hands caressed your body as he leaned back to kneel between your legs. You watched him pull off his shirt, but your eyes immediately settled on the new scar on his stomach. You had seen it before, but something twisted in your gut anyway.

Cassian noticed the direction of your gaze and covered it with a broad hand. “Hey,” he said quietly, waiting for you to look up at him before he went on. “Don’t think about it, sweetheart. I promise I’m fine.”

He dipped his head between your parted legs, leaving a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, each one sending a shiver through you. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You nodded, trying to relax more. You knew he was right. He was fine now. Yet clearing your mind was easier said than done.

Until Cassian’s tongue flicked out.

He took his time, pleasuring you with slow, deliberate strokes. His hands caressed up and down your thighs before they settled on your hips, his touch firm yet reverent. The lingering tension in your body melted away with every lick, every brush of his fingers, until quiet moans filled the room and the only thing you could think of was his skilled mouth working you toward release.

But Cassian pulled away too soon.

He crawled back up your body, bracing himself on his elbows at the sides of your head, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Have I proven it yet?”

You hummed, brows knitted together as you pretended to think about it. “No, not really,” you answered with a teasing smile. “I think I need more evidence before I make my decision.”

“Do you now?” he countered, his smirk only growing. He shifted slightly, and then you felt him—his cock, hard and ready, pressing against your core. With a shallow thrust, he pushed inside, drawing a little whimper from you. “Is this what you were thinking?”

“Exactly this,” you murmured. You pulled him down for a kiss and when your lips touched, Cassian began to move.

It was slow, as if you were both trying to reconnect with each other. His hands caressed your face, your hair, while yours roamed his back, pulling him close like you never wanted to let go. His wings cast deep shadows across the room, blocking out most of the shy rays of the rising sun, and an ethereal golden light danced across his beautiful features.

If it weren't for the pleasure rising inside you as you moved together, you would have sworn this was just another dream. But now you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was real.

“I love you,” you breathed in between kisses.

Cassian pulled back enough to look into your eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

You moaned, but the sound was swallowed by another kiss. And as Cassian made love to you, you knew the memories would finally remain where they belonged.

Not in the present, waking you in the middle of the night.

But in the past.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[dualityvn]

Keith would turn to hypnosis or brainwashing to make us love him if he’s fully snapped…?

Could I maybe please request a drabble about that por favor 🥹

Sweet Vacation

CW: kidnapping, brainwashing, fork harassment

Word count: 1345

You ignored the first signs that Keith wasn’t doing well mentally. When he’d turn his back to you at night and sob silently, you’d pretend not to hear it. When he’d spend his evenings staring out the window for hours on end, eyes glazed over, you’d find things to busy yourself with. 

It did annoy you when he put a tracker on you. The fight that followed only made things worse. He became constantly paranoid, asking to hear your voice every hour you weren’t home, having breakdowns when you so much as left the room he was in. 

There was no doubt that he wouldn’t accept it if you tried to break up with him. You never bothered to start the conversation. You simply packed your things one day, blocked his number and left. 

Unfortunately, he’d used more than one tracker. 

- - -

You awaken to an unfamiliar hardwood floor, head pounding and limbs stiff. So stiff, in fact, that you aren’t able to move them. Your eyes shoot open as you tug on the ropes tying your limbs to the chair you're sitting in. 

The room you’re in is unfamiliar, a lavish living room with wooden walls and a large fireplace. A sweet, mind-numbing fragrance catches your attention. Possibly, the herbs burning in a bowl on the coffee table before you. All the curtains are drawn, so you fail to see anything outside. You can’t remember how or when you got here. 

The sound of footsteps approaching brings your attention to the closed door. Keith appears from behind it, looking much more frazzled and unkept than usual. His hair is a bit messy, he’s not wearing the usual concealer under his eyes and his collar is askew. 

“My love! You're awake!” He rushes over to you. 

“Keith! What the hell did you do to me? Where am I?!” 

He shushes you as he caresses your cheek. You want to scream at him, fight against your restraints, yank yourself away from his touch. But for some reason, as soon as those thoughts enter your mind, they fade away. 

“Everything's alright, dear. You're safe now. I'm sorry about the ropes, but there was no other way. I'll take them off once they're not needed anymore.” 

There is nothing sane in his gaze. His eyes are big and alert and his smile is too wide for comfort. 

“Where are we?” you ask, much calmer than you'd like. 

“Somewhere where nobody will bother us! Don't worry, it's just the two of us.” 

You don't know what he's done to you, but your fear, anger and alarm are all much too mild. 

“Oh! I've made you lunch! Let me grab it for you before it gets cold.” 

He rushes off through the door, then returns with a plate of food and a fork. The sight and smell of it makes your stomach grumble. For how long were you out? 

“I hope you like it! Open wide!” Keith holds some of it out in front of you. 

Thoughts of turning away or refusing the food pass through your mind, then leave just as fast. You reluctantly open your mouth. 

Even when he's crazy, he manages to make infuriatingly good food. You do not complain about being fed the entire plate. If you want to try to get out of this situation, you'll need the energy anyway.

“You ate everything! Good job!” he praises you cheerfully. 

Then, he looks down at the fork in his hand. His eyes flicker between it and your mouth for a moment. Until they eventually settle on you as he brings the fork near his face and licks the part that's been in your mouth. Once his tongue reaches the tips of the tines, he sticks them entirely in his mouth. 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Before you can say anything about it, he sets the fork back on the plate and turns to leave. 

“I'll bring you a glass of water! Can't let you get dehydrated!” 

What the hell was that? How far gone is he? 

You finally get your brain to cooperate and attempt to struggle against your bindings. Unfortunately, they're tight and secure. Looking around, you can't spot anything sharp enough to cut them. 

When Keith returns, he's brought back not only your glass of water but also a small satchel. You eye it curiously as he helps you drink. 

And once it's done, he sets down the glass and opens up the satchel. It's full of herbs, some of which he places in the bowl with the others. That mind number scent hits you again. Any thought you'd had of escaping is beginning to blur.

As if reading your thoughts, Keith answers. “Just a little something to help you relax! I know you're probably quite stressed.” 

He puts the satchel away and picks up a book instead. “How about I read you something? That way you won't be bored!” 

You want to say no, you want to reason with him, ask him to let you go, convince him none of this is necessary. But none of it leaves your lips. 

“Okay,” you say instead. 

- - -

It's been two days since Keith locked you up in this house. He's fed you and kept you hydrated. When he's not been taking care of you, he's been keeping you entertained or simply chatted with you. 

Perhaps it's your fault you've ended up this way. You ignored the signs that he wasn't doing well. You weren't a very good partner overall. 

This morning he made you heart shaped pancakes with strawberries. It was kind of cute. 

Perhaps you don't need to escape, perhaps he will snap back to reality and release you himself. The two of you aren't good for each other. 

- - -

Four days have passed since Keith brought you here. He untied you from the chair but kept your wrist handcuffed to his to make sure you don't run away. 

It's a pretty nice vacation home. Apparently you're in the mountains. The view from the balcony is stunning. Although it gave you a bit of a fright when you woke up here four days ago, it isn't so bad. 

Keith still insists that you let him prepare meals, despite you being able to help now. You can't believe you treated him so coldly before. When he discovered you had bruises on your wrists from the rope, he cried and kissed them better. 

At night, when you get ready for bed, he asks if he can cuddle you. If you say no, he keeps his distance. When you do give him permission, he holds you tight and whispers that he loves you. He smells sweet, a bit like burnt herbs. 

- - -

It's been a week since the start of your little vacation. You took a walk through the forest this morning, hand in hand with your beloved boyfriend. He told you about the plants that grow here and which ones are safe to eat. He's so smart! 

When you got back, you made lunch together. He’s been a bit down and anxious the past few days, but today he was in good spirits. Though he still won't tell you where he got the new perfume he's been wearing. It's so sweet, it makes you want to hold him close constantly. 

Now that it's evening, you're both sitting on the couch, cuddling as you watch TV. Keith holds you against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You feel safe here. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

He stiffens at once. Thinking there must be something wrong, you pull away to look at him. A mixture of shock and joy battles on his features. 

“I love you too!” Tears are spilling from his eyes. 

You laugh and cup his face, holding it still so you can kiss away his tears. Your boyfriend is so sentimental. His hand brushes over your chin, silently asking you to lean down. His lips quiver against yours, soft and uncertain. You press in lovingly. 

Even the taste of his lips is sweet.

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Kiss Hunt

Roman Reigns x Reader

****

It was an unspoken rule by now—before every match, Roman needed his kiss.

No one knew exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way, it became part of his routine. Just like taping his wrists or putting on his vest, he wouldn’t step through that curtain without it. If you were nearby, it was easy—he’d find you, pull you in by the waist, steal a kiss, and head off to dominate in the ring.

But sometimes, you weren’t so easy to find.

Which meant he had to go on the hunt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Where is she?” Roman grumbled, already growing impatient as he stormed through the backstage halls.

Jimmy and Jey, sitting on a crate nearby, exchanged looks before Jey smirked. “Damn, Uce. You that desperate for your good luck kiss?”

Roman shot him a look. “You got a problem with it?”

Jimmy raised his hands in defense. “Nope, just funny watching the big uce go on a scavenger hunt for his woman.”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, moving past them.

Jey laughed. “Whipped.”

Roman ignored them.

He checked catering.

Nothing.

The women’s locker room?

Naomi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amused as hell. “She left a few minutes ago. You really out here chasing her down, huh?”

“Where’d she go?” he asked, exasperated.

“Somewhere near the production area, I think.”

Roman groaned. He was already supposed to be at Gorilla in five minutes, but he was not stepping out there without that damn kiss.

Meanwhile, you were completely oblivious to the search party forming for you. You had stopped by the production area to chat with Bayley and Rhea when suddenly—

“There you are.”

You barely had time to turn before Roman was right in front of you, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you in.

You blinked. “Uh… hey?”

“I got a match,” he muttered, like that explained everything.

And for him, it did.

A knowing smile spread across your lips. “And what do you need before your match?”

He arched a brow. “You know.”

Bayley, standing off to the side, smirked. “God, you two are disgustingly cute.”

Rhea snorted. “Nah, this is next-level. My man’s been hunting you down like a bloodhound.”

Roman ignored them completely, his focus solely on you. “C’mon, baby. Don’t make me beg.”

Your heart flipped at the way his voice dropped, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Beg? Now that I’d like to see.”

He huffed. “I swear to God—”

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He instantly melted into it, his grip tightening on your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

The moment should have been sweet, romantic even—if it weren’t for the round of cheers that suddenly erupted around you.

“WOOOO! GET IT, TRIBAL CHIEF!”

You pulled back to see The Usos, Solo, Seth, and even Dean standing there, all of them grinning like they just walked in on a damn rom-com.

Seth cackled. “Man, he really couldn’t go out there without it, huh?”

Dean smirked. “You got this man acting like an addict.”

Jey nudged Jimmy. “I told you, Uce. Whipped.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up, all of you.”

Roman, however, was completely unbothered. He smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

He chuckled, then leaned in to whisper, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Your face heated instantly.

The guys lost it.

“OH, HELL NO—”

“TOO MUCH INFO, MAN—”

“DAMN, UCE—”

Bayley covered her ears. “I did not need to hear that!”

Rhea just nodded in approval. “Respect.”

Meanwhile, Roman smirked in victory, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before finally backing away. “Alright, I’m good now.”

Jey threw his hands up. “Oh, now you good?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Man, if y’all ever break up, we’re done for.”

You crossed your arms. “Not happening.”

Roman smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, he walked off toward Gorilla, leaving everyone behind to recover from the overwhelming amount of PDA.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean shook his head with a grin. “Man, y’all are something else.”

You just shrugged, smiling to yourself. Because honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

[utopiastri]

25. Showing up injured at their enemy's house for Osc/Charles, please? 🙏

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt dear! i've never written choscar before and this was an absolute delight to put together!!! (cw for descriptions of major injury)

(prompt list here)

Oscar’s doing his best not to yawn through Ryan’s work story when the doorbell rings.

He smiles apologetically, standing up from the table. “Sorry, let me just get that.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Ryan says, smiling politely. Oscar inwardly grimaces at the pet name but smiles back.

A horrible feeling in his gut makes Oscar close the door to the dining room on his way to the front of the house. This gut feeling is proven correct when he opens the door to find Charles Leclerc on his front doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses.

Charles gives him a pained smile. “Oh, believe me, I wish I were anywhere else but here currently.”

“Then, why are you here? Go somewhere else!”

Charles gives Oscar a pleading look. “I need your help.”

“Charles,” he says exasperatedly, scrubbing his hands over his face, “I am literally the last person you should expect to help you.”

“Please.”

Oscar swallows. He hears a sound from behind him.

“Uh,” Ryan calls from a few rooms away, “Everything ok, sweetheart?”

Charles shoots him a look. “Sweetheart?” he mouths.

“Shut up. I was on a date before you came barging in here,” he whispers.

“A first date?" Charles asks, eyebrows raised, before correcting himself. "Ah, no, a second date but the first one was already pretty shit, hm?”

Oscar hates how perceptive he is.

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“So second date. And you are letting him call you ‘sweetheart’?”

Oscar glares at Charles, but doesn’t get a chance to retaliate before Ryan’s made it to the front door.

“Oh. Ah. Who’s this, Oscar?” he asks.

“Pierre Gasly,” Charles lies smoothly, extending a hand to shake, “I’m a friend of Oscar’s from work." He shoots Oscar a defeated look. "I was just stopping by to drop something off, I won’t take up any more of your evening.”

“Wait,” Oscar says, before Charles can even start to run off. He hates himself for what he's about to do but his decision was made the second Charles said ‘please’. He turns to Ryan: “I’m so sorry, Charles actually came to tell me there’s a problem at work we’ll need to sort out – he offered to deal with it himself but I think I’ll have to lend a hand.”

Ryan shakes his head. “No, that’s ok, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it?”

“If you would,” Charles answers, smiling in a way that would alarm anyone who knows him, but tends to charm complete strangers.

After a couple of minutes of Oscar saying his goodbyes to Ryan (and suffering through the worst goodnight kiss of his life), Oscar turns his focus to Charles, who is…

No longer in the hallway.

“Charles?” he calls.

“Kitchen!” is the response he gets.

“You know, when I offered to help you, that wasn’t me offering you to give yourself a…tour.” Oscar freezes in the doorway of his kitchen staring at the mess of wounds that was once Charles’ chest. “Charles,” he says hoarsely.

Charles smiles wanly, even as he continues to try to clean out his injuries a little. “Like I said,” he hisses as he pokes at a particularly nasty-looking wound, “I need your help.”

“You didn’t think to maybe mention the fucking life-threatening injuries you had, rather than standing on my doorstep teasing me about my date,” Oscar chastises, kneeling down on the tiles and swiping the first aid supplies from Charles’ hands.

“Oh come on, Oscar. You deserve better than a man who,” Charles cuts himself off to groan as Oscar starts methodically trying to close up Charles’ worst injuries, but he swiftly continues speaking, “A man who calls you a pet name on the second date. And god, the least he could do is call you ‘baby’.”

“Do you think teasing me about pet names whilst I literally hold your life in my hands is the way to go?”

Charles smiles lazily, even as his eyes squeeze tight with pain. “Perhaps not, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Oscar says, taking a grim delight in the sharp inhale Charles takes as he starts stitching a large cut together, “You lost the right to call me ‘baby’ three years ago.”

“Was that when I tried to kill you in San Diego or when you tried to kill me in Beijing?”

Oscar gives him a wry look. “That was when you decided to skip our wedding to go meet with an arms dealer.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake. I promise he was an ugly arms dealer, if that makes you feel any better.”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is Oscar trying to deal with Charles’ injuries as best he can. Oscar wants to say something. He wants to ask so badly what Charles is doing here, but he knows Charles knows he wants to ask and he refuses to give him the satisfaction.

He gives in in the end though.

He always does with Charles.

“Why did you come here? Why come to me?”

Charles looks at him and, for the first time tonight, Oscar truly registers the deep devastation in his eyes.

“You were the only one I trusted not to hurt me,” he whispers.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Getting deep into the aus in my head rn. Ok so you know that genre of arranged marriage webtoons/novels that's like, "the crazy princess is forced to marry the brave knight by the king, who wants to punish the knight for some reason" and then the princess turns out to either not be crazy or to be amping up the crazy on purpose, probably in order to survive some dark shit happening in the palace?

Ok so like. That. Now make it obkk.

(I'm tempted to say mdtb but obkk just fit better, I think. But also like, shit make it mdtb too, I love this trope)

Now here's the thing; I think there's a super fun argument to be made on both sides for who gets what role.

Crazy prince Obito could totally play into his Tobi persona, which would just be cool symmetry. But also knight Obito could be so cool, just objectively. And it could be interesting to play with a crazy prince Kakashi who like, saw his whole family murdered in front of him and then played up the crazy act to avoid becoming next on the chopping block.

Im going to settle with a prince Obito, so now please buckle up for todays au:

"Crazy" prince Obito who isn't quite as crazy as he seems being forcefully married to war hero general Kakashi of the Hatake dukedom in order to humiliate the Hatake's,,

(this one is nearly 4k words, so we're putting a cut on it)

SO! Starting from the top!

The Hatake dukedom is basically the only power to rival our beloved evil king Madara's throne. Other than them, Madara is pretty much untouchable, so his paranoid ass tries to keep a pretty firm eye and thumb on them. Gotta make sure they remember to stay the hell in line, you know?

So Kakashi is ordered to go to war pretty young, possibly in an attempt to get the young heir killed and cut off the Hatake's at the knees. Only for some years later, Kakashi to pretty much singlehandedly win that war and return this super big war hero. Which is a big problem for Madara, because now the Hatake's have even more political capital. And again, his paranoid ass does not like the possibility of there being someone to rival him in power.

As it is, there are only 3 (living, conscious) Uchiha left.

Madara, who is king.

Obito, a bastard nephew of Madara, who is absolutely fucking insane and only ever let out a tight leash when his insanity amuses Madara. He's only lived this long because his stupidity amuses Madara sometimes, and because he's very clearly no threat to him

And Sasuke, Madara's.... technical spare, who is only allowed to live because of his resemblance to Izuna.

(And somewhere deep in the castle, there sleeps on one Uchiha Izuna, trapped in some sort of coma Madara can not wake him from)

All the other Uchiha were killed (we will return to this) including Itachi and Shisui

(Incidentally, among Kakashi's loyal companions he collected during his years at war, there are two dark haired boys who are so careful to hide their faces when in public. I'm sure there's no relation there.)

So! Kakashi returns from war and Madara is like 'shit, I need to stop this train before it gets too far off the tracks' and invites Kakashi to the palace to "reward" him for his service.

Only when Kakashi gets there, the "reward" he's given is that Madara has arranged a spouse for him— his famously insane bastard nephew.

Getting into the politics of this: Giving him Obito humiliates him in public + gives him a ticking time bomb for a wife + reminds him of his place + gets rid of Obito too, who Madara is probably sick of seeing at this point.

Plus if we like, lean into period typical homophobia or whatever, Madara giving him a husband instead of a wife has implications too. Madara says you will NOT procreate, the Hatake house will NOT have a heir, and if they do then they'll automatically be a bastard who will never have a mother.

Take this crazy guy as ur wife lmao get fucked have fun <3

He's ending the Hatake's and Obito's bloodline in one move, 2 birds with one stone!! He's so smug about this solution he's worked out.

Kakashi, obviously yk, is super offended and panicked and also doesn't even want to get married, especially not to the goddamn famously insane prince, but he cant say no to the king! So he's kind of just forced to bow his head and grit his teeth and say thanks as Madara is all smug and happy on his throne saying some shit about he can't wait for the wedding.

So yk, Kakashi brings Obito home and it's this whole fucking spectacle because Obito is freaking the hell out and acting like a total lunatic

The whole rug pool is that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting. To be clear, Obito does have just a whole list of mental issues, and is genuinely incredibly unstable— he's just also playing it way, way up in order to protect himself from being looked at too hard by Madara.

And obviously, yk, he's suddenly thrown at Kakashi with pretty much no warning for either of them, and he doesn't know who the fuck Kakashi is, other than his reputation for being at war for years now. So he's gonna really crank up the crazy factor because it's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe— at least until he's gotten a better handle of Kakashi what the hell he's all about

Anyways just, Kakashi and his crazy wife Obito,,

Kakashi ofc eventually sniffs out that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting, and Obito is able to act a little more genuine to what he's really like.

Meanwhile we also get lots of Sakumo content, who is around btw and acting Duke Hatake. Also Rin is around, probably as Kakashi's second in command. We also get team ro, who Kakashi collected while he was at war and act as his lill team and trusted confidants

I want to see Obito and Sakumo in particular interacting tbh.

The differences between Madara as Obito's hella abusive shitty uncle who would purposefully provoke and feed into his fits, and his new so much kinder father in law who takes even his best attempts of causing a scene and making a fool of himself with a slow blink and a calm demeanor,,,,,, ough,,

Obito experiences fatherly love for the first time in his life and promptly has several crisis's about it

Now! Rewinding a bit to focus back on Madara / Uchiha situations ->

Madara doesn't really have an official heir. Or he does, but it's Izuna. Who, if you remember, is in that coma.

Madara is deep in denial about the fact that his brother is NOT going to wake up. Get over it Madara, it's been 10 fucking years !!!

Like I mentioned before, Sasuke only got to survive because he looks so much like Izuna. Madara probably straight up calls him Izuna and makes him dress and act like his younger brother sometimes when he's in his worst mental states (it flip flops a lot)

Sasuke can't be around Madara when he drinks bc Madara mistakes him for Izuna and starts alternatively yelling at him for daring to leave him and crying messily all over him

Sasuke is technically heir, but not really. Madara will only ever refer to him as the spare— because obviously, Izuna is going to wake up some day. Obviously. Any day now.

Now obviously, Sasuke already has a big brother! Which Madara does not like. How is he supposed to project all his issues onto Sasuke as a younger brother if Sasuke already has an elder brother?

So like, Madara gets rid of Itachi because he doesn't want Sasuke to have a big brother figure in his life other than him, bc yk, Sasuke is his Izuna shaped stress toy to cope with the loss of his own brother.

Madara sends Itachi to the front lines of the war at like 13 to have him killed. But then Kakashi saves him (team Ro noises,,)

Itachi quietly disappears from the playing field and is written off w the countless unnamed dead, and Madara is satisfied. Meanwhile, a masked assassin joins Kakashi's inner circle,,

(In the castle, in the middle of his grief, an 8 year old Sasuke is told he can address Madara as elder brother)

"How did Izuna even fall into that coma?", I hear you asking. Well!

I am now sliding to u a doctor/mage/saint Tobirama who is somehow the reason Izuna is in his coma (maybe on purpose, maybe by accident)

But Madara can't kill him bc hes like. The best doctor he has. And he needs him to keep Izuna alive in his coma.

"Damn, well how did Tobirama get to be working for Madara?" I now hear you asking

Well! x2, We will now rewind even further, to Madara's childhood ->

Starting it off with: is it even a naruto au without a dash of "childhood friends gone wrong?"

Basically, when Madara was a kid, he got to be close friends with Hashirama. Only for Hashirama to be unwittingly used as a tool by his father, for Butsama to try and overthrow the king of the time, Tajima.

A ploy that nearly worked, Butsama managing to kill Tajima + all of Madara and Izuna's other siblings + most of the other Uchiha right in front of the boys.

At the last second, Madara, with the help of the family's advisor, Zetsu, managed to kill Tajima and divert his plans. But now most of the Uchiha were dead and they had a crisis on their hands.

Madara is put on the throne at like, 13 years old, with only Zetsu to really rely on because everyone else is fucking dead, defected, or suspicious as hell. (Which is why, even decades later, he remains so consistently paranoid of anyone who might have the power to rival the throne; ie, the Hatake)

Anyways. Boy king Madara with his spooky advisor Zetsu at his side.

Zetsu is that trope of a a super obviously creepy and evil royal advisors, you guys know the trope. He is hunched behind Madara's throne whispering into his ear

"Kill them sire,,, they disrespect you,,,"

He like helped raise Madara when he was a young so Madara is DEEP in his pockets. After all, after the Uchiha were nearly overthrown, he was the only adult figure Madara had to depend on.

(To be clear, Madara himself is a shitty person. Zetsu is his own brand of spooky evil guy, and yeah he's a terrible influence on Madara, but Madara has made his own shitty evil choices in this too.)

After everything settled down, Madara had to decide what the hell to do with the remaining Senju— including Hashirama and Tobirama, who were also now among the only survivors of their clan.

Hashirama never meant to betray Madara, but he still did, and for that Madara can bear to look at him or he'll begin to feel sick.

Madara ends up being unable to kill his old best friend (even as Zetsu urges him to do it), and instead just sends him off to some temple deep on the edge of the kingdom, under heavy guard, basically banished from everywhere else in the kingdom. Hashirama goes quietly.

Tobirama, however, he keeps. Forced to serve in the palace as a sort of doctor.

Put him in some sort of magic collar that means he can't disobey a member of Uchiha royalty or smthn fun and fucked up like that, it could be fun. Collar that man !!!!!

Its enchanted w an order like, "you must follow every order given to you by the king" and then later down the line (when Madara is inevitably overthrown) Madara tries to order Tobirama to do smthn, Tobirama just looks at him coldly and goes "you are king no more."

I think whether Tobirama put Izuna in a coma or not would be left intentionally vague. We never know. Not even I know.

Maybe it was an accident, and Madara can only assume the worst because of who his father was and his clear hatred of the Uchiha.

Or maybe it was on purpose, his intrusive thoughts finally winning out. He certainly doesn't seem to have much sympathy or regret for the fact Izuna's been asleep for a decade now

Now, pointing back at Zetsu and Madara

Zetsu is sort of just a generic shadowy advisor for Madara in this. He's running the kingdom behind Madara's shoulder, he just kinda gets to do whatever and thrives bc of it. Zetsu living his best life!!!

Everyone is suffering in some way EXCEPT for Zetsu, who is having a wonderful time

So like. Madara seeming convinced he'll never die. Bc Zetsu has been whispering in his ear ab ideas of eternal life and necromancy, telling him he can rule forever and use this newfound power to wake Izuna. (Which is also ofc why he has no real heir and doesn't seem too worried about it)

(Meanwhile in the bg Tobirama is being used for his research. He's… happy about this, actually. He's thriving, just a little bit. Madara lets him play with dead bodies. And yeah, it sucks he has to obey the bastards commands, he's given p much unlimited funds and just kinda makes cool taboo shit as he researches immortality. He still bitches ab it tho.

Maybe in the end, he'll drag Madara out from the dungeons by the scruff like hes a wet cat and says smthn vague ab how hes going to be calling the shots from now on, and they disappear into the night)

So anyways. Inhuman somehow vaguely immortal Zetsu— who's been running out on his immortality juice.

Maybe we can play w Kaguya and the Hatake clans involvement? Zetsu gets his power from siphoning off of Kaguya, but the Hatake's of these past few generations have been worshipping her too, so she no longer has eyes only for Zetsu— meaning he no longer gets as much power from her.

Which is also why he's pushing Madara to hit the Hatake's w the ban hammer, because he wants them out of the way so Kaguya will look his way again.

(Or at the very least, Tobirama can hurry up and inventory human immortality already so Zetsu can try out a new method)

If you wanna get extra fucky with it, we can go with a 'son of Kaguya' Kakashi au, and throw in even more fucked up moon goddess family drama. Kakashi has no idea he's even related to the moon goddess, but Zetsu is losing his fucking mind because he's no longer his mothers number one special little boy anymore

What even is an obkk au without heaps of family drama in all directions?

Ok so, rewinding back to where we were, with newly wed Obito and Kakashi ->

So, Kakashi has been at war for some years now and has a lot of shit to do and catch up on now that he's back. Including catching back up with his dad, who he hasn't been able to see for any longer than a week tops in years. Very emotional! Very fun! Madara is a bastard for keeping them apart

But specifically tho. Kakashi helping Itachi to reunite with Sasuke.

I mentioned before that Kakashi collected team ro while he was out at war, and each of them probably has some sort of mini quest to fulfil,,

Senju bastard Tenzo who maybe grew up in the same church Hashirama was banished to, but was eventually sent away by Hashirama who couldn't bear to see him live the same isolated life as him (and maybe feared that Tenzo would be killed if Madara heard there was a new mokuton user)

Itachi and Shisui, Itachi being sent away to die and Shisui being an Uchiha bastard who either Madara thought he managed to kill (but escaped the massacre of his own remaining family Madara would eventually pull) or who got sent away with itachi to die at war. And just them wanting to reunite with Sasuke, their only remaining family left, who they worry for every day that he's left alone with Madara.

Im thinking tho. Sasuke eventually somehow escaping on his own (before team ro can even try to sae him) and managing to get to the Hatake dukedom,,,, Kakashi and Obito end up basically adopting him, pass it on

Super emotional Sasuke and Itachi reunion my beloved,,, I want Sakumo to try and dad them both, it'd be fun. Sakumo is just dad-ing everyone in this au, he's so father shaped

Sasuke spending so many years alone w only Madara as his family and maybe a weirdly fucked up and distant uncle-ish energy Tobirama who he regularly sees Madara going out of his way to make his life miserable.

But also like, obviously: Sakura and Naruto. I bet those two helped him escape tbh

Uhh knights in training Naruto and Sakura who are so determined to protect their prince Sasuke (even as Sasuke tells them he doesnt need his protection)

What if Sakura is training under Tobirama in place of Tsunade? Could be fun, idk.

Where is Tsunade in this, is she dead? Was she ever born? Did Madara steal her from Hashirama to make her work in the castle? Could be fun,, on that note too, Orochimaru might be somewhere around here, working with Tobirama to unlock immortality for Zetsu/Madara (*cough* himself *cough*)

Anyways, knights Sakura and Naruto who enter the palace so starry eyed for their beloved king Madara and prince Sasuke,,, only to slowly realize this is NOT the fluffy sparkly fairytale they thought this was going to be.

Im thinking narusasusaku energy where Sakura and Naruto are being silly and competing for their beloved, closed off ice prince's attention, alternating between fighting each other for Sasuke to look at them and teaming up to get rid of potential rivals

Meanwhile Sasuke is looking on at these fucking idiots blatant attempt to throw themselves at him in that way that only kids can, alternating between being annoyed and exasperated and trying to hide how amused he is. They are one of the only bright spots in his life ,,,

Madara doesn't even really have a reason to fuck Sasuke over w them tbh, honestly he might even encourage it just bc they're knights in training and he wants his spare to be well protected (against everyone but him lmao)

Madara is shitty but Sasuke is in this really weird position where he's probably the safest from him. Beccause, you know, Izuna. There's a lot of emotional abuse there and incredibly unhealthy dependency from Madara's end, projecting Izuna onto Sasuke. But for the most part, Madara dotes on him. Because, again, Izuna. Though there's also probably a certain amount of genuine fondness Madara has grown for him

He only really gets violent if it looks like someone will try and take Sasuke away from him (particularly in a familial way, which is what got Itachi (almost) killed)

Naruto and Sakura are deemed safe by Madara because they too are under his control, and every prince does need a good knight.

He might even think their not so well hidden crushes would be good for him, because that way he can count on them to ruin any of Sasuke's future romantic prospects for him. And if Sasuke ends up getting with his knights, he will never have a reason to leave the castle, even once he's an adult. A win win for Madara!

Madara approaching Sakura and Naruto both, telling them he thinks theyre just soooo good at being knights and, obviously you know, as their king he will hope they give him lots of updates about Sasuke.

Both Sakura and Naruto are super starry eyed and all for it at first, but Sakura quickly realizes that Madara is asking them to spy on Sasuke for him.

Sasuke himself is not surprised and probable expects it. This is what Madara has done with every single other person that he's ever looked at longer than 3 seconds.

There is a reason Sasuke has no friends, and it's not just because he doesn't want any. That one time when he was 9 and he told his playmate that he missed his big brother and hoped he would come back soon, only for Madara to later drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, scream at him and threaten to send him to die on the front lines with his brother if he really wanted to be with him so bad— well, that kind of gave him trust issues. Understandably.

Thinking also that over the years, while Kakashi was at war, Madara was keeping Sakumo from going to see his son by claiming he needed him close to the palace. So, like, Sakumo interacting with Sasuke on and off over the years,,, just this occasional figure of stability Sasuke is never supposed to talk to for too long,, this man he knows Madara is scared of, who feels so warm to him.

And Sakumo, missing Kakashi so much, interacting with Sasuke thinking about how 'my son was this small, when your uncle sent him to die' and nearly crying about it later.

Anyways just sasusakunaru,,, prince sasuke and his two knights who enter the castle at like 12, starry eyed and fulled of hope— but slowly becoming disillusioned as they realize what kind of life Sasuke is really living.

Them going from swearing to protect their prince with all the strength and surety of a couple of hopeful kids with big dreams— to really, genuinely meaning it, and eventually helping him escape from Madara's hands.

And then ofc them fleeing to the Hatake dukedom, where Sakumo and Kakashi give him sanctuary and he gets to see Itachi again. Who, by the way, he thought was dead and had NO idea was here. Yayy!

Anyways!

Endgame of Kakashi and Obito overthrowing Madara and tossing him into the dungeons. Tobirama ends up dragging Madara out of the dungeons and they disappear into the night together, never to be seen again. (with the implications of a sudden very sharp shift in power between them something to think about off screen)

Sasuke becomes king bc neither Kakashi or Obito wants the throne, and rules with his trusty knights (and partners) Naruto and Sakura.

Obito is happy being a trophy wife for Kakashi, this is actually his ideal ending (after the horror and stress of adjusting to this new unknown life)

Sakumo meanwhile gets to be godfather of the first sasusakunaru kids and swears to protect the Uchiha family for as long as he can

The end, or something

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[letsgoravendors]

I haven’t watched agents of shield really but I do know that scene between Daisy and Simmons during the LMD episode where they aren’t sure who’s real or not (go Skimmons!) and they have that sweet hug at the end of. THAT but make it with Kate and Yelena, here’s my vision-

They both have their weapons draw on each other (a gun for Yelena and and bow and arrow for Kate cause obviously) and they’re both pretty on edge and scared (just like Simmons and Daisy in that episode) and they’re trying to determine if the other is an LMD or not and say something only the real person would know, at Kate says-

“Your vest. It has pockets.” (Because of course Yelena told her about the vest and what it meant to her)

And Yelena’s gun drops and little bit before she says-

“You need more cutlery.” (It sounded more emotional in my head but yeah)

And they both drop their weapons and hug and it’s all cute and shit and that’s all, I just wanted to put that thought somewhere :)

[romanhughesy]

GRAVITY - andrei svechnikov x fem!reader

summary: you meet in spring. andrei is confident, easy-going. deeply casual. summer’s long, but you’re around again when andrei comes back in the fall and ‘casual’ shifts into something fonder, something taking shape around the edges. a mid-season injury brings things to a breaking point, but the longest night only comes once a year.

wc: 3k

warnings: suggestive (like pg13), angsty?, emotionally unavailable!reader<3

a/n: im so sorry it’s late, but this is my fic for @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, written for @sydnikov !! i LOVE your writing and was so inspired by your preferred tropes/figure skating background, so i hope you love it!! ive never wrote anything quite like this before, so feedback is 10000% encouraged bc this is also my first fic in awhile :’) title is from ‘gravity’ by my queen tinashe, that song and her other song ‘cross that line’ PERFECTLY describe the relationship i was trying to capture here.

-

somewhere along the way– far too late– it becomes apparent you and andrei misunderstood each other. maybe even from the very first moment.

on an unseasonably humid early spring night, in a dark gritty bar with shitty lighting and shittier beer, a spark ignited between the both of you. he approached you, half-drunk and put up to it by the rowdy teammates commandeering a booth with a great view of the bar. of you and your friends. he offered to buy a round of shots for everyone– if your friends would take them back to the booth and leave the two of you at the bar. your girls, who absolutely did not need anymore shots, practically ran across the bar with the tray; not before elbowing you and patting your shoulder, of course. maybe one hockey player could fly under the radar, but certainly not this one, and the table full that were now hosting your friends were the talk of the little bar. even some of the other girls nearby looked at you enviously; like you’d been chosen, or won some sort of prize. it was an unpleasant kind of feeling that you tried to shove aside in favor of easy, tipsy conversation. after talking around the elephant in the room for a minute, the liquid courage helped you decide to name it. you praised his performance in their game earlier that evening. months later, you can still remember how his smile took over his face, wide and prideful.

“thank you, pretty,” he slurred, shuffling a bit closer, “i can teach you how to skate good like me.”

you also remember your own prideful scoff, rolling your eyes on pure instinct. that unpleasant feeling sharpened. “i could carve you up, svech.”

his jaw dropped, the disbelief seeming more honest than his boastful smile, somehow. “you play? you are… small.”

“i’m a figure skater. i coach, too. maybe i should teach you to skate better.”

andrei’s wolfish smile came back in full force then, large hand draping over yours on the sticky bar. “perfect figure skater– pretty and small. i’m sure you skate well, but not like me.”

he raised his drink to signal the bartender, but you slid your hand from underneath the bar to rest on top of his and tapped the back of his palm lightly, stealing his attention with a head tilt.

“should we go and check out each other’s skills?”

one night set the stage for a loose kind of routine, spring nights slipping away in the back of seedy bars, in andrei’s bland luxury apartment; bodies coming to an understanding on rumpled grey sheets in his california king bed. your friends wouldn’t shut up about him, but you insisted there was nothing to tell. and there wasn’t. neither of your lives had room for anything more than what you already had. when he was gone, or just not around, your life passed by more or less the same as when he was there. you weren’t going through the motions to pretend there was anyone else, to him or to your friends, but you knew where you stood. and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. what you and andrei had was good, easy. you didn’t want a boyfriend anyway, so why would you complain about a steady hookup who wasn’t getting attached?

as the days got warmer, the nights got shorter, and andrei’s games became more meaningful. he slipped away— as much as you can really slip away when you aren’t being held at all. he more or less disappeared from your life once their second playoff series went south, and you refused to give chase.

-

summer was a blur. long days full of early morning practice, the smell of the ice invigorating your senses and bringing relief from the oppressive heat. it was a year too hot to be outdoors much, so you holed up, binging reality tv and redecorating your bedroom. your friends brought you out of your shell every now and then with a couple of weekend beach trips and many more coerced nights out. they’d switched from seedy sports bars to cocktail lounges, or dance clubs, and were good enough to not mention why, at least to your face. things felt simpler this way, dancing into the night with a rotating cast of strangers and cutting out early with the excuse of your sunrise rink time. you started landing a new trick, and even the heat couldn’t dull your mood about that.

seemingly in the blink of an eye, the dog days of summer had passed, and banners started cropping up around downtown boasting the shiny newcomers and fan favorites returning to town for training camp. you saw andrei’s face on the house-sized poster hanging on the outside of the arena and pretended to yourself that you’d never met him, because, really, what else were you supposed to do? go back to that same bar, with your same friends, and pretend you knew him at all?

-

well, you did do that– not of your own volition, to be sure– and he was there, because of course he was. you saw him the second you walked in, tall, broad and smiling, just like you remembered. you pointedly looked away, sharp eyes almost daring your friends to say something, but they didn’t have to.

you were fumbling through your purse to pay for your drink when he approached from behind, resting his hand on the bar. your bodies weren’t quite touching, but you were enveloped by his stature.

“you can put all of their drinks on my tab,” you could almost feel the vibrations of his deep voice through your chest. your friends raised their eyebrows, but said nothing, taking their drinks and deserting the bar. that deja vu, memory-on-the-tip-of-your-tongue feeling washed over you, heightened by his next words.

“how was your summer, pretty girl? mine was long, without seeing you.”

you sidestepped his hold to be able to look up at him, to take his features in for the first time in awhile. in person, that is. there was a boyishness, an almost clumsiness, about him like this that never came across in his media. you tried not to let it persuade you.

“i landed my axel for the first time.” you answered, not bothering to address his flattery.

“triple?” andrei asked, eyebrows raised.

you rolled your eyes. “i’m an amateur, andrei. not all professionals can land a triple.”

his eyes flashed, that challenging look that always dragged you in, “i’m a professional. i bet i could. i do lots of hard things.”

“i doubt you could even stand on figure skates, much less jump.”

he tilted his head, and you felt pulled back in time, “can i show you my skill?”

“andrei…” you tried to pull your gaze away from him, but he grabbed your hand, gentle as can be, and you locked eyes with him again.

“please, pretty girl. i missed you.”

looking back, you still aren’t sure what you thought he’d say, but it wasn’t that. the shock stirred up some of the unpleasant feelings of the past few months, the severed connection that was barely tangible to begin with. you lightly scoffed, “yeah, right.”

“i did. i’m glad to be back, to see you tonight. let me show you.”

what else could you say to that?

so you let andrei take you home, and tried to tell yourself you were just imagining the difference in his behavior, projecting softness, maybe even fondness, where there was only lust. tried to explain away his gentle hands on your cheeks, your hips, his quiet praise and adoration. you slept over, that night, and tried to turn a blind eye again in the morning. and again a few days later.

as fall crept in, the two of you start texting more often, meaningless chatter and jokes, and began foregoing the pretense of having to go out to the bars to “coincidentally” meet up. he’d ask to pick you up after leaving the stadium most nights he was in town, and more often than not you’d stay over. andrei didn’t seem to mind that you were often gone before he woke up; flying across the ice to try and leave your emotions behind, heart crawling a little further up into your throat every day. you knew it was unnatural, yet you couldn’t help but try to build your walls a little higher with every step you took forward towards something different with andrei. you just couldn’t help but feel like letting your guard down would be a fatal mistake.

his time on the road helped, in a lot of ways. it gave you a sense of normalcy, you went out with your friends and didn’t look over your shoulder. you could give andrei a bit of a cold shoulder over text and pretend he was the busy one, the one not responding. until he came back to town and kissed you breathless in his sports car, taking off your jacket with his big but deft hands and mumbling into your neck about missing you while he was gone.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like him— certainly not that— but it was hard to feel like you stood on solid ground when his life moved at such a fast pace. he never intentionally made you feel small, but his world, spanning millions of miles and millions more dollars, was dizzying, and so entirely divorced from whatever you two had that you still felt as though you didn’t know him, really, even though you held all of these small pieces of him close to your heart. you felt constantly at a loss, not sure how to best express yourself in any given moment, caught between honesty and protecting your feelings, unsure how to do both at once. the leaves turned, then fell, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were also waiting for the other shoe to drop.

andrei, apparently, had none of the same hangups. he was simple, straightforward and never shy to go after what he wanted. his interest was more than clear, but you could never bring yourself to ask just how far it went. he never asked you to go to dinner, or one of his games, and even though you guys weren’t just hooking up, in fact there were a couple of hangouts late fall without having sex at all, you couldn’t find any other name to call whatever you two were doing. so you stopped trying.

-

somewhere around the first frost, things changed. andrei had his first injury of the season, having to sit out a short road trip, and you found yourself out of your depth with the version of andrei that reminded you of unpleasant early-summer heat. you didn’t know how to comfort him, scared to cling or insert yourself unnecessarily into his personal life, so you thought you should just mirror his attitude. maybe that’s what brought things down.

one late november night, you started shrugging back on your clothes after leaving the bathroom until andrei’s voice, thick with sleep, gave you a momentary pause.

“where are you going?”

you looked up at him, and immediately regretted it. his high, strong cheekbones were softened in the dim light, eyes dark and confused, but you refused to believe the furrow of his brow held any traces of disappointment

“home. i have an extra-early skate tomorrow.”

“you know you can stay here,” andrei assured in a low voice, but you just shook your head and sat at the edge of the bed to put your socks back on.

“it’s fine, andrei. it’s not that late.”

he sat up fully, then, long arm reaching across the bed to try and touch you, but you were too far away.

“what’s going on?” andrei asked, not letting you answer before another question sprung from his lips. “why are you not comfortable with me?”

you froze, looking up slowly but deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“it’s nothing. i’d just rather be at my place tonight.”

“it is something,” he insisted, voice still quiet, but more firm than you’d ever heard him speak to you. “you don’t want to be honest with me. why?”

“i’m being honest with you,” you argued, even though you knew it wasn’t true. “why are you upset? it doesn’t matter.”

“i like spending time with you. i’m alone, i’m hurt, and you make things better.”

it somehow stung, the sweet words only serving to remind you what he could say instead, what you wished he’d say.

“we spend plenty of time together, svech. i can’t put my plans aside for you just because you couldn’t travel with the team.”

you didn’t have to read a different emotion into his furrowed brow any longer, it was set in a very clear frustration, now.

“don’t say that, don’t call me that,” he insisted, “what did i do? why are you angry?”

you stood, at that, pulling your sweater over your head hastily. “i’m not angry. you’re the one making this a big deal.”

“you are leaving and trying to hurt my feelings. i am just trying to figure out why.” he rose from the bed, trying to catch your wrist as you went to button your jeans, but you took a step back.

“we already fucked, andrei. you had plenty of my ‘quality time’ for tonight. i’m leaving, now.”

he stepped into your space, shaking his head and grabbing both of your wrists, not forceful, but firm.

“this is not about sex, pretty. you know it’s not. why are you saying this?”

“well, that’s all we have. we’re not dating, i’m not your girlfriend, so you should call someone else if you need comfort.”

it was his turn to take a step back, then. dropping your wrists, hurt clear as day across his face.

“that is not true. we cook together, work out together, watch movies together, talk on the phone while i am gone. is it all just about sex, to you?”

your insides twisted, hurt and anger shifting into a kind of guilt, a panic. you’d been so painstakingly, yet fruitlessly, trying to protect your own heart, trying to push yourself away. blind to the fact that the whole time, he was reaching out to you.

“i… didn’t want to ask for something you couldn’t give,” you hedged, eyes down and picking at your nail beds.

andrei shook his head again, but his expression softened, closing the gap between you.

“i have been trying to date you since i came back, beautiful. but you have been hiding from me, even when you’re this close. i’ve been waiting on you.”

you stared up at him, eyes wide, hands dwarfed in his grasp. you couldn’t even begin to find the right words to say.

“let me show you, gorgeous,” he continued, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek. “let me cherish you how you deserve.”

“andrei…” you breathe. he bends down, captures your lips in a kiss so tender it makes tears well up in your eyes.

“it’s okay, pretty. we’re okay.” he kept mumbling assurances to you in between soft kisses all over your face, across your jaw and down your neck. you couldn’t contain your sigh as his faint stubble brushed against your neck, hands finding a gentle perch on his broad back. andrei pulled back the slightest bit, soft smile and mischievous eyes making your heart flutter.

“can i show you, my darling? or do you need to go home?” he teased, hands absentmindedly trailing up and down your sides.

“please, drei,” you plead, hand stretching up to the back of his neck to pull him back down to you. andrei doesn’t move a muscle, his own strength so much greater than yours, but you couldn’t complain because you got to watch his soft smile grow, eyes alight like he just scored the greatest goal of his career. he lifted you with seemingly no effort at all, laying you back down on his grey sheets, hovering above you, bicep bulging next to your head. it was distracting, but you couldn’t look away from those gorgeous eyes, locked on yours.

“can i come to the rink with you in the morning? want to finally see how my pretty girl skates. probably puts me to shame.”

you were pulled from your daze at that, searching his face and finding nothing but openness, happiness, satisfaction. but you still can’t help but ask, “are you sure? it’s an open skate. people will see.”

“see you ‘carve me up’?” andrei joked, caressing your face. that spring night felt so far away, a version of you that could never conceive of where you would end up. “i don’t care. just want to see you.”

you couldn’t hide the shock on your face. the pit in your stomach hadn’t exactly subsided, the heaviness of wasted time and self-admonishment lingering, but you tried to push it aside, letting yourself reveal a gap in the armor you’d woven so tightly around your heart. you wouldn’t be able to just let yourself fall overnight, but you could do this. you could give him an opening, a glimmer of warm sunshine on a cold winter’s night.

“sure, but we’ll need to go to bed soon. it really is extra early,” you conceded, hand raising to brush some of his hair back from his forehead.

his sweet smile turned that wolfish, boastful grin you knew too well, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“soon? maybe not, pretty girl. i have been waiting for this. might take awhile. but don’t worry, i know great stretches for sore muscles we can try in the morning, too.”

and, well, what else could you say to that?

———

[ask-the-golden-god]

@askstormscall

A bottle drifts to a soft fall in the library. Its weight is heavier than normal as if it was carrying something other than letter. Inside was a letter and a warm iridescent feather, its rainbow hue bright beneath the light.

"Dear Goomy, I am... not good at this! I have never made a letter before. You will be my first! I'm so glad I have met you at the party. You helped me in a way I would have never thought about. Mo'o says this was a best way to maybe reach you. I hope me and my brother will keep to work things out and I hope your days will flourish after helping me!"

*Cepheus was awfully confused by the bottle that had drifted in through the sky light in the library. Where has it come from? Why was it here? He gave a looked to Kel who shared the same expression. Seems they were not expecting anything like this to happen. The duo slowly approached it, getting a much clearer look at the contents contained within. When Cepheus saw the delicately iridescent feather in the bottle, his face immediately lit up. There was only one Pokémon who had that stunning colouring - the unique lugia he had met at the beach event! Seems she had sent him something.*

Cepheus: Yo Kel, seems things are chill with this. It’s from that Lugia I’d met.

*Kel was still confused but trusted Cepheus. They immediately floated to the bottle, carefully levitated it with their psychic powers and took both the feather and letter out of the glass container. The subtle rainbow shine on it was truly beautiful. Not something Kel had ever seen before. Ah, of course, that Lugia with the dazzling feathers. How kind of her to leave something for Cepheus. They began reading the contents of the letter to the arceus.*

Kel: What a lovely way to be thanked. See? You helped someone on that beach.

Cepheus: Yeah yeah. It is nice she gave me one of her feathers. I mean, just seeing her in real life. Wow. Most radiant, I’m telling you.

Kel: I’m sure she was.

Cepheus: Would you be able to put the feather in the treasury please? Something like this can’t just be left out in the open. Gotta store it in the right place, you dig?

Kel: Of course.

*With a quick wave of their hand, Kel teleported the feather into the safest area of the treasury - somewhere where it would rest without fear of being damaged. They grabbed a small ballpoint pen and a sheet of paper from one of the shelves nearby.*

Kel: I am to assume you want to write a letter back?

Cepheus: It’s like you can read my mind or something! Of course I do. And maybe I should add a little something in it too from me. Could you do the writing?

Kel: Sure Ceph.

“Dear most unique lugia,

Thank you for your letter. It is most kind of you to write to me! It’s been ages since I’ve had one but I dig the vibes of it! There’s just something most excellent about writing letters. Just has this vibe, you get me?

I am glad to have met you too! It’s not often you get to see a lugia of your colouration out in the open! Truly a most radical sight to see. I am also thrilled that my words were able to help you out. That’s just what I like doing, helping others who need it. I’m sure things will go well with you and your bro but remember that it’s ok if it’s not a completely smooth journey. Sometimes these things take time, you dig? Definitely wishing you luck on everything.

Absolutely dig the gift you left me. That feather? Wow. I am going to treasure it forever. So, I’m leaving you a little something from my personal collection. I’m not sure what size you are but-“

*Kel had to pause because they knew exactly what Cepheus was going to give to the lugia. They turned to look at the arceus who had already got the item next to him. A pair of lugia-shaped crocs. Oh, why did it have to be crocs? It could have been any gift. Cepheus was obsessed with them. Kel just could not understand the obsession and shook their head when they spotted them. Cepheus looked at them with his usual chill smile, ushering them on to continue with the letter. Kel rolled their eyes, adjusted their round glasses and continued writing what Cepheus wanted them to write.*

“here’s some of the most excellent footwear you’ll ever have. You see, I just so happen to own the largest collection of crocs ever. I just love them and figured you could do with a pair for your own. And look, they’re lugia-shaped! Isn’t that just the most radical thing you’ve ever seen in your life? You can do what you like with them!

Hope to meet you sometime again soon,

The most radical goomy ever.”

Cepheus: Yeah! That sounds like a most excellent letter! Thanks for writing it!

Kel: You’re welcome. I know you struggle with spelling so I’m glad to help. Though, I have to question how you’re going to see her again. Are you going to visit her?

Cepheus: I was thinking she could come here. She’d get along with Genera I think and it’d be nice to see what progress she’s made with her brother, if you get me?

Kel: But she doesn’t know where here is. That’s why she sent the letter.

Cepheus: Oh, you are most right. Yeah, ok. Just hold the letter close to me.

*Kel did as instructed, holding the letter close to Cepheus. Using one of his levitating arc pieces, he touched the letter and it immediately began to glow a soft golden light with small sparkles lining the edges of the paper.*

Cepheus: Ok, could you add a PS to it?

Kel: Sure.

“PS I’ve been able to, through mysterious, magical means, give you a way to find me through this letter if you wanna speak to me face to face again. Like, the letter will, if you request it, become a magic portal that’ll lead you to me if you want to. I know it seems completely wild but the power of goo is strong. I’m chill with keeping up with letters but just wanted to give you the option just in case you needed someone to talk to or whatever.”

*As Kel had finished scribbling away, Cepheus was looking over their shoulder, making sure everything came out ok. He seemed very satisfied by what was written. Kel rolled up the letter and gathered the rather large (well, large in comparison to them) crocs from near Cepheus’ feet. They proceeded to attach a bow to the crocs which held the letter firmly attached to the odd footwear before giving them a tap. They disappeared, leaving no trace of ever being there in the library.*

Kel: Ok, I’ve been able to send the letter and your…lovely…pair of crocs to the location where this lugia wrote her letter. The letter should adjust to being the right size for her to be able to read.

Cepheus: Excellent work my most excellent friend. Hopefully they’ll arrive without getting damaged or anything.

[love-marimo]

The Strawhats x Model!Reader (Modern AU)

Lolita's Note: these are really short. just a few (some are platonic and some are romantic) headcanons for the strawhats with a model (gender neutral) reader! a bir of suggestive stuff (mostly crack) on sanji, zoro and brook's. enjoy ♡

cw: mentions of smoking and drinking.

Franky

he's going to be SUUUUUPER supportive about your career.

i imagine him to be a mechanic/engineer in the modern au so your pairing is definitely unconventional

will develop an app that detects nearby castings when you're on the go.

and if he can sit somewhere in the audience during one of your shows, he's gonna put up a sign that says something like "I LOVE YOU MY SUPER HOT PARTNER"

will might get kicked out for obnoxiously cheering for you.

Usopp

he'll definitely think you're cool and will brag about you a lot to his peers.

so much so that he'll make up lies like you're also secretly the designer, or you're the highest paid model (even if you aren't).

he gets so mesmerized when he sees you walk in those pretty clothes and he will definitely take photos of you.

like a lot

will run a secret fan account that you will never find out and he'll brag about you lots on there.

Robin

this woman has connections. a LOT of it. she's the most likely out of all the strawhats to sit front row because of how many people she knows and she's affiliated with.

you both follow each other on instagram and people love to see what you two post. you're definitely a power couple, both online and offline.

your stories and feed will scream quiet luxury and glamour, and everyone is here for it.

she'll help you grow in your career and you might even rise to the top because of her.

she's like your manager and she'll do it for free just because she loves you so much.

Nami

you will be models together. period. no questions asked.

absolutely goes crazy during fashion week. she'll plan all your outfits a year ahead and she's very good at predicting trendy pieces in every. season.

will go with you to every casting and will not settle if the directors don't hire the both of you.

like robin, your online presence will scream power couple.

but the difference is you'll post a variety of things online.

one moment there's the baddest, coolest, and most amazing runway photos of you both and the next there is a video of you having the worst jet lag ever.

Jinbe (if he was human)

need a bouncer? say no more. he's got you covered.

this man will immediately know if there are sketchy people who pretend to do castings.

so you will go to him for advice about it especially when you're just starting out.

if you have an international gig, he'll pack you a lot of essentials (toiletries, medicine, staple clothes, you name it) and he'll be your personal body guard until you reach the airport.

make sure to send him photos, he'll definitely collect those and all the magazines that has you in it.

Luffy

do not bring him to an hour long fashion show, or his restless ass won't take it.

that said, he's also going to be very supportive even if he doesn't understand and relate to your kind of work.

he's the type to wait for your turn and then leave once he knows you're not gonna show up anymore.

will go 0o0 every time he sees you in designer clothing. and he will ask for a photo before you set out to stage.

he's so oblivious that there was one time where he innocently and confidently asked the designer themselves to take a photo of you.

you were definitely scared of being reprimanded and black listed.

luckily his child like charm lets the both of you get away with it.

Chopper (if he was human)

poor baby, he's going to be so confused.

he has no idea how the modeling industry works but he tries his best!!

will get lost in thought, admiring all the models (especially you) who wear the most unbelievable and extraordinary (to his eyes) pieces he's ever seen.

he's that little brother who claps and goes starry-eyed even if he doesn't know what's going on.

in his head he's like "cool cool cool cool!!!"

if he catches you smoking backstage he gets angry, and the other models will find that cute.

the thing is though, he's so well versed in medicine that he convinces all of you to stop smoking.

Sanji

oh boy.

this man is even worse than franky

he's not gonna scream or whistle or do loud things in a regular show (rtw or haute couture)

but! BUT

do not invite him to a bikini show like the VS Angels.

this man will get a sensory overload and will collapse.

also runs a fan account about you and is SHAMELESS about it.

he will post the most out of pocket captions that you have to take his phone away for a week.

Zoro

this man is so fine that underwear and fitness companies want to hire him.

he is not interested. he'd rather see you model for a bikini calendar (which he'll definitely buy)

will also be your personal bodyguard. and he'll be secretly happy about it.

prefers to watch you model for photoshoots than walk the runway. he doesn't like waiting and he wants to focus on only you.

will be your personal errand boy and will take you out drinking after shows.

Brook (if he was still alive as a human)

this old man will either be the sound engineer, or the performer in one of your shows.

do not also take him to bikini shows or he will go around backstage reveling in all the panties he sees.

otherwise, he's pretty chill. he will socialize with other guests and talk about how pretty all the clothes are.

will also go to fashion week with you and get the attention of a lot of street photographers.

ー Lolita

[egcdeath]

just what the doctor ordered - chapter 2

pairing: harvey (sdv) x reader

summary: as a successful lawyer in the city, you’re almost certain that nothing can throw you for a loop. that is, until a visit to your sister’s farm brings you to the small town’s doctor. 

chapter summary: you have your first feast of the winter star in the valley. it’s not at all what you expect it to be.

words: 8.9k

warnings: IDIOTS to lovers, slow burn, yearning, fluff, lots of nerves, your sister is kinda an annoying younger sibling, mentions of drinking/being drunk, no use of y/n, harvey AND you are bad at feelings, trivia night, almost a ‘there was only one bed’ moment, lots of love life meddling, cursing, feast of the winter star celebrations

author’s note: i hope you enjoy the Grade A yearning in this chapter!

previous chapter | next chapter

You weren’t sure what exactly you expected when you decided to visit your sister in Stardew Valley for the holiday, but it certainly wasn’t this. In fact, if you’d known that you would be dragging your suitcase and feet through inches of snow just to attempt to get from the train station to her farmhouse, you probably would’ve just stayed home. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you huffed as the two of you approached a vacant-looking spa. You’d barely made it twenty paces away from the train station and your luggage was already soaked and getting more and more difficult to push with every step you took. “Does no one in this place drive a car? Do you have a tractor? A bike? A scooter? I mean, I’ll literally take anything at this point.”

“Okay, Ms. Walkable Cities. This community is walkable. I thought you liked that!”

“I like them when there isn’t snow up to my shins to walk through! Trust me when I say that this,” you gestured to the snow around you, “is not walkable.”

“Fine,” she was clearly fed up with your complaining, but who wouldn’t be? “The mayor has a truck and he owes me a favor. I’ll just ask him to pick us up.”

You shivered as she dialed, hugging your thick coat to yourself and hoping that whoever came to pick you up did so swiftly. That, or death from hypothermia would take you out quickly. Whichever came more expeditiously and relieved you from the neverending suffering that was bitter cold.

“Hey Lewis. I just need a quick favor… No, you definitely owe me one. Remember the-... Yeah, any way I could borrow the truck?… Oh. Oh… Wait, who has it?…. Oh! Well, thanks for letting me know,” your sister hung up on him but remained on her phone, seemingly dialing another number with a newfound smile on her face. 

You weren’t so sure what she was so pleased about. “So he’s not coming? Are you getting us an Uber, or something? Do they have those out here?” you were growing impatient with your situation and would do just about anything to be somewhere with heat and without snow on the ground. 

“Please. Shh,” she hushed you before lifting her phone to her ear once more. You were unsatisfied with this non-answer. 

“Hey! I heard you have Lewis’ truck right now. Any way that you could help me out and give me a ride back to the farm? I think standing out in the cold is giving me a cold…” she forced a cough before continuing. “Ugh, amazing. You’re the best. I’m by the train station, over by the spa… Okay, five minutes. Sounds good. Thanks!”

Your sister looked oddly smug as she put her phone back into her pocket. “Now you owe me one too.”

“Can we just say that I’ve repaid my debt in taking the fall for the billions of broken vases in our childhood? Or all the bottles I donated to your underage wine nights?”

“Fine,” she conceded, clearly more fed up with your incessant complaining than anything else.

“Who’s picking us up?” you asked, as if you really knew anyone in the first place. 

“Oh, you don’t know him.”

You sighed and shook your head. As if the cold temperature and the sensory nightmare of wet pants from the snow weren’t enough, now your sister was cryptically answering your questions. “Okay.”

When the truck pulled up, you were shocked to find none other than Dr. Harvey himself manning the vehicle. So much for not knowing who the driver was. So much for not meddling in each other’s love lives. Although, you supposed that this was accidental. Somehow, you just knew that you would be hearing the word ‘fate’ all weekend. 

Before you could even approach the backseat, your sister took it upon herself to launch herself into the back of the truck, giving you no other option but to sit beside Harvey in the front. 

You took your time throwing your luggage in the bed of the trunk, doing your best to mentally hype yourself up for the encounter. You’d stared down hundreds of men far more intimidating than Harvey in settings far more nerve wracking than the passenger seat of a car. Logically, you knew there was nothing to be concerned about, but in practice, you couldn’t help but feel a massive pit in your stomach. Why was it so debilitating for you to have a little crush? You barely even knew the guy. 

Hesitantly, you opened the door to the vehicle and did your best to avoid eye contact as you sat down in the seat next to the man. You scolded yourself internally for acting so out of character already. “Thanks for picking us up.”

There. That was neutral enough and inoffensive enough that it didn’t give any indication that your heart was currently beating like a hummingbird’s after eight shots of espresso. Not that you should be feeling that way anyway, when your only interaction with him was of him doing his job. Distantly, you wondered how many of his clients had developed crushes on him after a particularly emotionally-loaded physical or minor injury. You tried not to get too carried away, but you couldn’t help but imagine someone waiting for him back in the Valley bringing him a flirty cup of coffee in the morning and batting their lashes incessantly waiting for him to notice their beauty. 

“No problem at all. I had no idea you were coming to town,” He seemed genuinely excited to see you, your imaginary townsperson with long, luscious lashes and great coffee taste be damned. It wasn’t lost on you that he skipped right past your smug sibling in the backseat to talk with you. “How’s the hand?”

“Fully recovered,” you lifted your hand to illustrate your words. You wondered if he noticed your freshly manicured nails as he briefly glanced at your hands, before fixing his eyes on the windshield once more. Man, was he focused on getting you two home safely. There was something so attractive about a responsible driver. You scolded yourself once more on how easy it was for you to swoon over ridiculous things when you had a crush. 

“That’s what I like to hear. What brings you to town?” Despite the fact that his vision was trained ahead of you, you were sure that he would feel your eyes watching him if you admired his side profile a bit too hard, so you decided to force your gaze away—turning to watch the slowly moving scenery and attempting to calm your climbing nerves. 

“Oh, just visiting to celebrate the holiday. We usually spend it at my place, but I thought it might be fun to switch it up this year. The Winter Star festivities in the city can get a little repetitive.”

“Really? I’ve always wanted to visit the Zuzu Holiday Market. It seems like a lot of fun,” Harvey responded.

“It is fun, don’t get me wrong, but there are only so many times that you can drink extra chocolatey hot chocolate and go ice skating ‘til your sister vomits in a bush before you get bored,” you laughed as you recalled the event, though you were mortified at the time.

“Are you serious? That was one time! And I had food poisoning!” your sibling finally spoke up. 

You did little to hide your amusement. Since she got you into this predicament in the first place, the least you could do was embarrass her a little bit too. 

“Anyway, you’re free to stay with me if you’d ever like to go,” you paused, wondering if your words were too suggestive or overly friendly for someone you’d only met once. “I also know a few good hotels nearby, so…”

It wasn’t the best save, but it was certainly better than nothing. 

“That’s so kind of you to offer! I don’t know if I’ll be going any time soon, but I appreciate it.” You cringed internally as he spoke, knowing you shouldn’t have been so overzealous. You reminded yourself that you had only met once before this point, and it was in a fully professional capacity, but in the corner of your eye, you caught Harvey looking at you for a split second and… was he blushing?

Though you’d only made it to square one-and-a-quarter, with one little glance, you were suddenly back at square one, butterflies dancing in your stomach and heat crawling up your neck.

“Well, it’s the least I can do after you fixed my hand,” you laughed awkwardly, once again rendered useless by your feelings. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as both of you attempted to gather yourselves and you began to fantasize about melting into the passenger seat of the truck. Somehow, the goopy puddle of yourself would be less embarrassing than you now.

“Anyway, we’re going to trivia tonight,” your sister interjected, clearly fed up with getting second hand embarrassment from you. “Are you coming too?”

“I was kinda on the fence. I need to do a few things to prepare for flu season and-” Harvey began to explain before being abruptly cut off.

“Oh, come on, Harvo. The town isn’t gonna collapse if you take one night off. Besides, it’s a tradition to do Winter Star Eve trivia! We missed you last year. Although, Maru and I still kicked ass.”

Harvey looked to your sister in the rearview mirror, then to you, then back at the road. “Alright, I’ll come. But only because I need to see if you and Maru are who you claim to be.”

“I knew you had it in you. Cold and flu season can wait,” she seemed oddly satisfied with herself in the same way she seemed a little proud of herself after she got off the phone with Harvey. You couldn’t help but feel like the woman had something up her sleeve.

You somehow made it through the rest of the short drive without embarrassing yourself too badly, though you might’ve been slightly too enthusiastic as you thanked Harvey for the ride and bid him farewell. As if you hadn’t had enough humiliation for one lifetime in the span of ten minutes, your sister felt no need to give you any sort of break.

“That was an accident, by the way. But… Harvey’s been asking me about you,” your sister wasted no time addressing the elephant in the room as the two of you dragged your luggage up to where you’d be staying. Part of you wanted to whack her with your suitcase. The other part of you wanted to ask for more information–to hear every single detail about what he said and how he said it. Did he blush as he asked? Did he look really interested? Did he say anything about wanting to see you again?

None of those questions made it past your lips. “Shut up,” was all you could respond with as your cheeks heated up enough to melt the snowy ground outside.

“I’m serious! Whenever I stop by the clinic he asks me what you’re up to, how your health is, how you’re healing from your injury,” she went on as she walked you to your room. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s just small talk,” you dismissed as you sat down on the foot of the bed which had been neatly made in anticipation of your arrival. Deep down, you hoped that him asking about you meant something. Realistically, you knew he was just being a considerate friend.

“Eh, you should hear the way he says it. Like you hung the moon and he’s asking for updates on the moon,” she lingered in the doorway, watching you collapse flat on your back.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” you spoke up to the ceiling. It almost felt like if she saw your face, she might be able to read your mind. Not like that would make much difference anyway, as she already saw straight through you and your little crush on the doctor. 

“Whatever,” she somehow made the one word sound like the most exasperated expression ever uttered. You almost wanted to tell her that she sounded like your mother. “The point is, he liked you a lot too. One might even argue that you’re always on his mind.”

“Who said I liked him a lot?” you could feel her skeptical look without even seeing it. 

“Whatever,” she repeated, this time sounding even more fed up. “He liked you a lot, even if it’s completely unreciprocated. We personally think that you two would be cute together.”

“You got that from one interaction you watched? And who is this we?” you asked, though you already had a pretty good idea of who was making up this other mythical person. 

“That’s my cue to leave,” she sidestepped into the hallway. “Be ready to go by seven. And don’t fight fate!” she sing-songed as she disappeared further into the house.

You sighed hard enough to shake the foundations of the building you were in. 

The two of you made it to the saloon early enough to get a booth, your sister looking at the door every few minutes as she very obviously waited for your guests to arrive. She asked you a few questions about how your life was going, but her heart clearly wasn’t really in it. Finally, Maru walked through the door and it was like a switch flicked in her. She was filled with enthusiasm as she waved the other woman down, a toothy grin plastered on her face. The enthusiasm seemed very mutual, as Maru couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face as she excitedly talked to your sister about the techy project she was working on. 

Though you didn’t particularly mind observing your sibling act like a lovesick puppy, you didn’t have to third wheel for too long, as shortly after Maru sat down, Harvey joined you at the table. As if you were playing Whac-A-Mole, his arrival prompted your sister to get up, announce she was going to get everyone drinks, and leave. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave, as the only thing keeping you feeling somewhat normal in Harvey’s presence was the comfort blanket of other people.

You watched as she talked to the bartender for a particularly long stretch of time, before returning to your booth looking like the cat who caught the cream. For the second time that day, you were struck with the feeling that she had meddled somewhere she knew she shouldn’t have.

“Everything okay?” you asked though you were almost scared to know what she had up her sleeve. 

“Mhm. I’ve just never seen someone so proud to ask for wine at a tavern,” she replied as she distributed your drinks, shamelessly taking a dig at Harvey. Neither Harvey nor Maru seemed particularly phased by the words. If anything, it looked like Maru was holding back a giggle. 

“Is it not your wine?” Harvey asked once she passed him he received his glass. 

“It is. That doesn’t make it any less uncouth,” she replied.

“Just be happy he’s supporting your small, local business,” you chimed in before taking a sip of your own drink. It was much stronger than you expected. Something told you that for the evening you were about to have, you might need that.

Before you could give your sister more shit, the man behind the bar began to make an announcement. 

“Thank you all for coming out tonight. At the request of some of our guests, we’ll only be doing duos trivia tonight. We’ll get started in a bit,” his voice was loud and easily reverberated through the bar, only to be met with a few murmurs and groans from the townspeople at the thought of splitting up their carefully curated team. 

Surely, this was not what your sister was scheming with the bartender to do. After all, she included the idea of doing trivia together as one of the many benefits of spending your Winter Star celebration in Stardew Valley. You looked at the woman in question, who was pointedly making an effort not to look back at you. You’d seen enough guilty people in your lifetime to know when you were looking at one–and you most certainly were. 

“Team sisters vs. team doctors?” you suggested, partially to confirm your suspicions, partially to see if you could get out of an evening of embarrassment with Harvey. As you should’ve anticipated, your sister immediately shot the offer down.

“No, I think Maru and I are gonna work together. Right?” she continued to avoid eye contact with both you and Harvey, deciding to look at her partner in crime instead.

“That works with me,” the two of them shared a knowing stare. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being left out of some sort of inside joke. You glanced at Harvey to see if he was in on it too, but he looked just as deer-in-headlights as you were sure you did. 

“Bye, old-timers,” your sister bade you farewell as she and Maru quickly got out of the booth and easily found somewhere new to sit. 

“Old timers?” Harvey sputtered. “Thirties is not old!”

You laughed at his indignance. At the very least, your laughter helped to keep some of the nerves that were quickly creeping in at bay.  “You see what I have to put up with? She’s been like this forever.”

“I can only imagine what you two put your parents through,” Harvey laughed right along with you. You wondered if he was feeling even a fraction of the nerves that you currently were. 

“To this day, our family dinners are always a little intense,” you replied, trying to ignore the vision that arose of Harvey being at one of those very family dinners. Would he argue like the rest of you? Or would he sit quietly, only entering the conversation when someone said something particularly shady towards you? Something told you he would do more of the latter than the former. Not that he would ever end up with your family in the first place.

The two of you wordlessly sipped your drinks, the silence awkward and almost unbearable. After a series of awkward, chemistry-less dates, you’d forgotten how socially clumsy having a crush made you feel. Usually, small talk came easy to you—in fact, you could probably speak uninterrupted for a whole hour if given the chance, but when it came to socializing with the man in front of you, you struggled. 

“So, you already know why I’m here, but what brought you here?” you finally spoke up, opting to look down at your drink rather than at the man across the table from you. If only your boss could see you now–you were sure you’d be fired in a heartbeat. But you didn’t want to be a hotshot attorney around Harvey, you just wanted to be… you. And if that meant you were an awkward pool of nerves around him, then so be it. 

“I mean, you were there. Your sister invited me,” he looked slightly confused by your question. 

“No, I mean,” you laughed, feeling even more of the tension in your body melt away with the action. “What brought you to the valley?”

“Oh,” the man in front of you looked more like a tomato than a human. At least you had some confirmation that you weren’t the only one feeling incredibly awkward. “Sorry. I tried out the city for a bit, went to school there, did my residency there, but it was… a lot. I wanted to settle somewhere a little more quiet, so…”

“So you picked the most quiet place possible?” you finished his sentence for him. 

“Well, yeah. I guess I did. It wasn’t fully on purpose, but I saw a job posting that said the previous owner was set to retire, and the timing just worked out well. I finished up my residency, came here and shadowed her for a few months, and the rest is history.”

“But you like it here?” you asked, finally making eye contact with the man—which proved to be a mistake, as the butterflies in your stomach took that as their cue to take flight. 

“I do. I feel like I get to know my patients a lot better than if I were a doctor elsewhere. Although, it feels like most people here view me as only the doctor and nothing else. I’m sure it’s similar for you, being an attorney.”

“I can’t exactly say I relate. A lot of our clients are corporations, and despite what the government might say, they are very much not people. But it definitely comes with its own set of issues. There’s a level of anonymity you get being in the city. I’m sure you remember. It’s oddly… lonely? Sometimes. I almost wonder if I’d feel it less if I lived somewhere like this.”

“Would you?” he paused to take a sip of his drink. As he lifted it up to his mouth, you noticed the slight shake of his hands. If you weren’t sure before that he was nervous, you were absolutely certain now. That had to be a good sign, right? Unless he was anxious about being left alone with someone like you, who obviously had a crush on him and was doing a terrible job at concealing it. The thought of making Harvey uncomfortable immediately made you nauseous. 

“Hmm?” you were so lost in your thoughts that you could barely process his words.

“Would you ever live in a place like this?” he clarified.

You glanced around the buzzing bar, watching friends double over with laughter as they talked, and patrons who were surely regulars giving the bartenders a hard time. There was no doubt that the Valley was charming, with its picturesque landscape and interesting inhabitants. You thought about your sister, who easily made a life for herself there in only a matter of years, then yourself, who spent what felt like a lifetime making the version of your life that you always thought you wanted. You felt a lump grow in your throat. 

“I don’t know. I think I’d get bored. It doesn’t really seem like anyone here needs legal assistance, so I don’t know what I’d be doing all day other than twirling my thumbs and bothering my sister.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” on his face, you read what almost looked like disappointment. Maybe you were just projecting onto him, but more than anything, it seemed like he just needed a friend. It had to be difficult to only be seen as just your career, not as a whole person. Maybe that was why he’d taken such a liking to you right off the bat, if your sister’s words had any credence. 

“I guess I could follow her footsteps and be a farmer. But I’d really be no good at it. I mean, you saw how that worked out for me,” you openly referenced your accident with the jar.

Your conversation was interrupted by a blue-haired woman dropping off a white board and marker at your table. 

“Good luck!” she said enthusiastically, her gaze lingering on you for an extra moment. You guessed you shouldn’t be so shocked that the town was intrigued by outsiders when they probably had very few visitors. 

At any rate, you were slightly thankful that her interruption gave you an opportunity to take the conversation in a different direction. You didn’t exactly want to dump all of your problems on Harvey during your first non-work related outing. 

“Are you any good at trivia?” you asked once you finished off your drink. 

“I’m alright,” he shrugged. “I enjoy reading and learning in general, so I’d like to think that I know some stuff.”

“Good, because I’m absolutely useless,” you flashed him a smile, working some of that courtroom charm. Internally, you reprimanded yourself for not being yourself, but it was sometimes easier to put on a mask of confidence, than to be your boring, true self.

“I doubt that,” he reassured you. You tried to ignore the way that he consistently spoke so highly of you made you feel. You weren’t sure why or how someone who knew you so little was so willing to compliment you.

“Oh trust me, you’ll see.”

The first few questions weren’t too bad, with most groups having the correct answer on their shared white board. With Harvey as your scribe—his penmanship surprisingly legible for a doctor—the two of you quickly made your way up the leaderboard. 

Though you both knew a good share of the answers, there was something about the way Harvey looked at you after you answered a particularly difficult question that left the rest of the room stumped. In fact, he looked at you like there wasn’t a single other soul in the room. It both excited and terrified you. While you couldn’t pinpoint the exact way it made you feel, the one thing that you were sure about was wanting to climb over the table and kiss him until your lips went numb. But maybe that was just the two extra glasses of wine speaking–although you weren’t totally sure it was.

As the game came to a close, your score was tied with two other groups. It was just your luck that the final question was one about an obscure television program that just happened to be one of your favorites growing up. You leaned across the table to whisper the answer in Harvey’s ear, paranoid that another group might overhear, but finding yourself feeling mildly intoxicated by your proximity to him. You barely kept your composure enough to not let on to the burning feeling deep inside of you. 

You watched nervously as Harvey lifted the whiteboard with your answer, and somehow, you two managed to be the only team to get it right. The man behind the bar announced the two of you as the winners, leading you to cheer amongst the collective groan in the tavern. 

“How did you know that?” he asked in awe, green eyes practically sparkling at you. You recalled what your sister said about him earlier, and how he spoke about you like you hung the moon. Right now, he was looking at you as if you’d done just that. 

“I don’t know, I just did,” you shrugged and laughed, doing your best to push down the butterflies that were aggressively flapping their wings in your stomach. 

“I can’t believe you tried to tell me you’re bad at this! You’re amazing! Is there anything you can’t do?” he began to gush, and you couldn’t lie, the way he was speaking about you was definitely doing something for you. 

“Oh please. You should see me attempt anything that requires any sort of hand-eye coordination,” you dismissed, though you were quite pleased with his praise. 

“I don’t believe you,” he laughed, clearly feeling more loose from the few glasses of wine you shared. “I don’t believe you at all. You’re just trying to be humble. I mean, smart, beautiful, charismatic... What don’t you have? No wonder you would wanna understate your talents.”

Did he just call you beautiful?

The two of you seemed to have this realization at the same time, both of your brows shooting up in surprise as the tomato made a return for what must’ve been the third time that night. 

“I’m sorry, I-“

Your lips were loose with alcohol, which became abundantly clear as you spoke. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’re not too hard on the eyes either. In fact, when we were in the clinic and my heart was racing, it was because-”

“Hey!” your sister announced her presence with her booming voice. From the one word and the way she was leaning on Maru, you could tell that the two of them certainly had more to drink than you and Harvey. “I declare foul play. I wanna rematch.”

“I don’t think you’re in any state for a rematch,” you commented as you took in her slightly disheveled appearance. 

“Whatever, cheaters,” you giggled at the vitriol in her voice. “Oh please. This is not a laughing matter.”

“I think that means it’s time to go home?” you suggested. 

Your sister sat down next to you in the booth. “It means the opposite, actually. The night’s just beginning!”

“Speak for yourself, I’m going home,” Maru yawned and stretched her arms to portray just how tired she was.

“Let me walk you home,” Harvey offered, ever the kind-hearted man. In a split second, you wrote a narrative in your head that he wanted to stay and talk to you until the sun came up, but prioritized the safety of his friend and co-worker. You couldn’t think of one person you’d seen in the past three years who would do the same. As quickly as the thought came up, you reminded yourself that you and Harvey were not seeing each other. In fact, you were basically still strangers. Strangers who complimented each other’s appearance after winning the town’s trivia night.

Moments after the two of them left, you suggested to your sister that the two of you follow suit. It seemed like most people were on their way out, and you didn’t want to draw any more attention to yourself by being labeled: The Sister from the City Who Stays Out Way Too Long.

Luckily, your sister was on the same page for the most part, before she had a sudden realization, “Wait, I need to walk Maru home first.”

“Harvey’s walking her back already,” you reminded her, but that did little to stop her from shooting up from the booth and heading right out of the tavern. You quietly cursed to yourself as you grabbed your belongings and ran after your sister.

Much to your chagrin, when you stepped outside, you discovered your sister chasing after a set of footsteps imprinted in freshly fallen snow. You sighed and followed her briskly, not pleased by the snow landing on your skin and the flashbacks of trying to collect your high schooler sibling after she called you begging to stay the night at your apartment, claiming that your parents would kill her if they found out she snuck out.

After even more cursing under your breath, you finally caught up with your sister, who was absolutely delighted to now be walking with her friends. 

“Oh Maru, I thought you were gone for good,” she blubbered as she hugged her tightly. “Never do that to me again.”

What she was requesting she never do again, you weren’t quite sure. 

“Never again,” she promised, embracing your sister securely. It was surprisingly earnest, despite the fact that you had absolutely no idea what the two of them were on about.

You looked at Harvey, whose foggy glasses prevented you from fully reading his expression. You would have to ask him about this later. 

After all of the theatrics, Maru made it home safely, with the two women embracing once more on her doorstep. Now, you’d had your fair share of drunken, overenthusiastic platonic affection, and from your reading of the situation, this was nothing of the sort. You looked to Harvey again to see if he was seeing this too, and he looked almost as puzzled as you. 

The two finally broke apart once Maru announced that she was cold and going inside, leaving you to trek all the way back to your farm. That, you were not all that excited about. 

“Now that she mentioned it, I’m cold too,” your sister stated. It seemed like the alcohol coat only lasted so long before the fact that she left her actual coat in the saloon caught up to her. While in any other situation you would’ve grabbed it for her, you were far more focused on actually catching your sibling on the run than checking what she did or didn’t leave behind. Besides, it was a small town. Surely, the owner of the tavern would have it safely inside for her. He might even throw it in the washer and dryer for her, leaving it folded and clean for when she picked it up.

“I’m honestly surprised that you lasted this long without it,” you chuckled as you slipped your coat off your own shoulders and onto hers, hoping that your hefty sweater would be sufficient enough to keep you warm on your way back home. You only made it a few steps in the direction you were going before you realized that would unfortunately not be the case.

Your sister spoke up yet again, somehow even more chatty drunk than she was sober. “Can we just stay in the clinic? It’s so much closer. And there are beds,” she seemed to be asking you more than she was asking Harvey, which confused you a little bit—but you simply added that to the long list of things that left you slightly confused that night. 

You didn’t dwell on it for too long, as it turned out that you were absolutely freezing without a coat. In fact, your teeth were beginning to chatter. Luckily for you, the game of Musical Coats continued when the doctor standing next to you offered his own coat to you. 

You didn’t even have to say a word and he noticed.

You looked over at Harvey as if to say, “Seriously?” and he smiled and nodded back to you. You tried your best not to swoon too hard, though every interaction with him was making that more and more of an uphill battle. You attempted to write it off as a considerate doctor looking out for someone who might get sick from the cold, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“That’s fine with me. The clinic’s not too far from us,” he explained to you as you snuggled into his blue overcoat. It was still quite warm from his body heat and smelled exactly like the cologne you’d gotten a whiff of during your exam. You wanted no more than to drown in the masculine scent. 

It didn’t take too much more trudging to get to his place, and after Harvey unlocked the door to the clinic, your sister wasted no time disappearing into an exam room and making herself right at home on a cot. 

“Thanks for letting us stay the night. I had no clue she was just gonna invite us to your place like this,” you attempted to apologize. As you looked up at Harvey, the difference in your heights caught you a bit off guard. You would have to store that information in your mind for a later date. 

“It’s not a problem at all. I told you, you’re welcome any time here. The beds are just around the corner to your right, if you’d like to lay down too,” he explained as he turned the lights to the clinic on. 

“You know, I’m not all that tired,” you weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, other than trying to extend your time with Harvey. You were emboldened by the evening you’d had, feeling far less unsure about the feelings of the man in front of you than you did just a few hours ago. 

“Oh? I can walk you to the farm, if you want,” he offered, looking at you very sweetly.

He was so kind and so clueless. You were pretty sure that you’d let him do whatever he wanted to you—but you were getting way ahead of yourself there. 

“No, you’ve already done more than enough for us tonight,” you glanced at the coat you were still donning as if to remind him of his sweet gesture. You did your best to allow him to take control of the situation, not wanting to impede further on him than you already had. 

“Hmm. Could I interest you in a cup of coffee? It’s decaf, but-“

“Absolutely,” you wasted no time answering.

That was how you ended up in Harvey’s apartment, nosily looking through the decor in the room as you attempted to put the pieces together of who he really was when he wasn’t working with patients.

“What’s this?” you asked as you bent over the display, careful not to touch anything and possibly mess something up.

“Oh, um… these are some model planes I built… do you like them?” he asked, the nerves in his voice not at all lost on you. 

“These are cool as hell,” you affirmed, sitting down at the desk and leaning over so you could get a closer look. You pointed at a contraption with a pair of bulky headphones attached to it. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s kinda like a radio, but for flights. You can talk to pilots through it,” Harvey explained, using the hand not occupied by mugs of coffee to pull over a chair. 

“Can I try it?” you asked, unsure of what possessed you to do so. 

“I can’t guarantee we’ll make contact with anyone, but of course.”

He gently sat the headphones on your head, careful not to mess with your hair, and began to fidget with the radio until static stopped coming through the device. 

“Are you sure your true calling in life wasn’t to be a pilot?” you asked jokingly, gazing at him with as much adoration as he gave you at the saloon. He was simply too cute with his hobby he knew so much about and his inebriating proximity to you. 

“It kinda was, before I realized that the world isn’t always supposed to be blurry and that I have a crippling fear of heights,” he responded, still focused on the device in front of him and not on you.

“Oh no! Are you serious?” you frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to joke about something that-“

“Please don’t feel bad. You couldn’t have known. Besides, I still found a way to enjoy it,” he looked at you again, a soft twinkle in his eye despite discussing something that couldn’t have been pleasant to experience.

You took the headphone set off and softly set it back down on the table. 

“And if I never became a doctor, I never would’ve come to this town, or met you-or uh, any of the other great people here.”

Your expression softened. He was sitting so close to you, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch his pink cheek before pulling him in for a-

“I’m glad you were still able to find work that was meaningful for you,” you looked at him and a strand of curled hair in his face that you desperately wanted to push back. “You know, I used to want to be a baker more than anything else in the world.”

“What happened?” Harvey asked, looking at you a little anxiously–although, you couldn’t be too sure that it wasn’t just his default expression. 

“Nothing too tragic. I just realized how unrealistic it all was. The good thing for me was that I was booksmart and liked to argue, so I had that to fall back on. I just settle for sending my friends a loaf of bread, or leaving anonymous cookies in the office every now and then.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that. I know I wouldn’t mind some surprise sourdough every now and then.”

“Next time I come to town, I’ll bring you some,” you promised. 

“If it’s not too much of a hassle, I would love that,” he smiled softly at you. Were you crazy, or had the two of you leaned in closer and closer since your conversation began?

You yawned, catching yourself by surprise. Running on the fuel of adrenaline that you got from being around the first man in a long time to make you feel anything, you hadn’t realized just how tired you were. 

“My offer still stands to walk you home,” Harvey reiterated before leaning back in his chair. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just sleep on one of the cots,” you insisted, though the thought of getting poor sleep on a stiff, sterilized cot seemed extraordinarily unappealing.

“They’re really uncomfortable,” he commented, looking down at his model planes and not at you. 

“I mean, if you want me to go home, I can go home,” you offered, though the rejection slightly stung, especially after the night the two of you just had. 

“No! I meant, you can sleep in my bed,” his eyes met yours, then were pulled back to the table. “If you’d like.”

“Oh!” your cheeks heated, as did the man across from you.

“I’m so sorry, I meant, you can have my bed. I’ll just sleep on my couch tonight.”

“Oh,” you laughed at the misunderstanding, though you certainly wouldn’t have minded sharing a bed with Harvey in any capacity. “Are you sure?”

“No worries at all.”

After declining an offer to borrow some of his pajamas (your heart could only handle so much in one evening), you settled in Harvey’s bed, impressed by how soft the mattress was. You were grateful that the lights were off and that he was on the other side of the room, as you wasted no time grabbing one of his pillows and inhaling deeply. Unsurprisingly, it smelled just like him, and it quickly lulled you right to sleep. 

In the morning, you woke up to the familiar scent of more coffee and the sound of your sister and Harvey conversing in the nearby kitchen. You sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, squinting as you looked into the room to confirm what you thought you’d heard and smelled. The two of them stood in the kitchen, alternating between washing dishes and sipping something from mugs. They must’ve had breakfast while you slept. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” your sister announced as soon as she caught sight of you and your bed-head. “You look like you slept well.”

“What can I say? This is a very comfortable mattress,” you leaned over the side of the bed to gather a few of your belongings. 

“Would you like to stay for breakfast? We made you a plate,” Harvey offered kindly. You felt your heart bang against your ribcage as you recalled your evening, and you worried that the organ might actually explode in your chest. 

“Thank you, but I’m not super hungry,” you threw your legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a slight urgency. “Well, thanks for letting us stay over, Harvey. We’ll see you tonight.”

“Harvey told me all about the night you two had,” your sister boasted, clearly trying to get you to admit to something that didn’t happen. 

This was a familiar song and dance to you. For the longest time, your younger sibling was a master at manipulation, getting you to confess to things you didn’t do to cover her ass or make her look better to your family. That was before you went to law school. Now, your days of being manipulated were far in the past.

“So he must’ve told you how his back hurt from sleeping on the couch last night,” you easily retorted, not falling for her antics. 

“You made him sleep on the couch? That’s cold. Even for you,” she sucked her teeth to emphasize her facetious disappointment in you. 

“He offered to sleep there, thank you very much,” you corrected, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of annoyance at the friendly interrogation. It had been so long since you felt anything real for someone romantically, and you didn’t want your connection to be reduced to just a punchline for your sister to tease you with.

“Are you kidding? Have you never picked up a romance novel? That’s when you’re supposed to offer that you share the bed anyway and wake up cuddling.”

“Do you hear yourself? My life is not a corny, pulp fiction romance novel.” At this point, your annoyance now began to fully boil over. Maybe it was misplaced anger at yourself for falling for someone so easily, or frustration over the antics your sister put you through the night prior. Regardless of the cause, the outcome was the same. 

“I’m starting to really question if you even like this guy,” If your sister caught on to your genuine annoyance, she clearly didn’t show it as she continued with her joke. “You shouldn’t lead him on. He’s a sensitive guy, you know?”

“Okay, seriously, enough. I don’t want to talk about this right now with you,” your tone was stern and serious, a far cry from the one your sibling equipped.

“Sorry,” she looked and sounded genuinely remorseful, with guilt quickly taking over her features. “I’m so hungover right now,” she deflected, as if that would absolve her of her sins. You’d never seen anything more encapsulating of her behavior as your younger sibling. 

“Do you remember me having to chase you down in the cold?” you asked, partially to shame her, partially to change the subject.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she kicked a pile of snow. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” you sighed, figuring that maybe you reacted out of proportion for reasons unbeknownst to her. Usually, the two of you were fine with banter, even when it dealt with touchier subjects. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

You both knew you weren’t just referring to her whiskey-fueled shenanigans. 

“I won’t,” she promised, looking a little bit like the guilty kid who took an extra cookie out of the jar and blamed it on you all over again. “Happy Feast of the Winter Star?” she offered.

“Happy Feast of the Winter Star,” you replied, pulling her in for a side hug. You could never stay mad at her for too long–not when she made you take the fall for her bad behavior as children, and not when she poked fun at your love life now.

There was only so much tagging along with your sister as she made small talk with the people in her town that you could do before you found yourself feeling a terrible combination of awkward, uncomfortable, and unwelcome. Luckily for you, your sister picked up on this rather quickly and suggested that you take a seat where you’d be sitting for the actual feast.

You watched with envy as your sister mingled with the townspeople. It was never particularly pleasant to be singled out, but you would’ve preferred if you weren’t the only person easily labeled an outsider and excluded from the gathering. You wished you were back in your warm apartment, a cinnamon-scented candle wafting into the air as you decorated your tree and watched Winter Star movies from your peripheral vision. Instead, you were left feeling like the awkward, brace-faced girl you were in your adolescence. 

“Happy Feast of the Winter Star,” the words stated behind you caught your attention. After you turned, you were unsurprised to find the voice belonged to Harvey and that he had taken a seat next to you. 

“Happy Feast of the Winter Star to you, too,” you replied, hoping you didn’t sound as pleased as you truly were to see him.

“Did you come here alone?” he sounded genuinely concerned as he asked, as if the mere concept of you celebrating the holiday alone was unacceptable.

“No, my sister and I came together. She was just doing her rounds talking to everyone and I just needed a second to be on my own,” you explained, figuring if anyone would understand needing a break to recharge on your own, it would be Harvey.

“Oh, then I could leave, if you’d like,” he offered. Was he always this polite and considerate of everyone else’s feelings?”

“No, you’re perfectly fine,” you assured him. “It’s always nice chatting with you. Have you exchanged gifts with your person yet?”

“Yeah, Pierre got me a new stethoscope. This might be my fourth new, gifted stethoscope I’ve been gifted since moving here,” he lamented. “Sorry, not to sound ungrateful. Did you get anything?”

You frowned at Harvey’s words. You had an idea that the people in the town struggled to see him as anything other than the town's doctor, but having several separate people all get you the same stereotypical medical gift had to hurt. Distantly, you promised yourself that if you came back next year, you would get him a far better gift. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being disappointed about that,” you affirmed, reaching out to place what you hoped to be a comforting hand on his arm. “My sister and I are swapping gifts tonight. Do you have any idea who she got? She wouldn’t tell me. Not like I know anyone here.”

“I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions,” he pointedly looked over to where she was talking enthusiastically with Maru and a man who almost looked related to her. 

“Oh my,” you laughed aloud. “Do you think there’s anything going on with Maru and my sister? I mean, after last night I’m almost certain she has a thing for her. Are they seeing each other?” you questioned.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. Not to be nosy, but it is a small town and people talk,” he leaned in slightly and lowered his voice as if someone might overhear and do the very same gossiping that the two of you were partaking in now. 

“Tell me more,” you matched his motion by leaning in, excited to finally have the information your sister was depriving you of. 

“Well, at first your sister came by all the time because she genuinely needed medical assistance. I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but she spent a lot of her first year here passing out. Sometimes from exhaustion, sometimes from fighting things off in the mines. I mean, she pays the clinic more than probably everyone else in this town combined.”

“Seriously? What could she possibly be doing?”

“She’s never told me. Maybe she’s told Maru? That’s the thing. She started coming for medical assistance, then I wasn’t sure if she was getting hurt on purpose just to see Maru. Whenever they’re together it’s all laughs and smiles. You know, one time she woke up after being in the mines, saw me, then asked where Maru was. When I said she had the day off, she declared she was fine and left.”

“Wow. I want to be shocked, but knowing her, it doesn’t seem all that far fetched,” you pulled your gaze away from the two of them to look back at Harvey. “So are they together?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Every time I bring it up to either of them, it’s like they’ve taken an oath of silence.”

“So what’s your diagnosis, Doctor? If you had to guess.”

“If I had to guess? Based on the serious, grade A yearning I’ve observed and the sheer amount of flirting they do in the clinic, I would say they are absolutely lovesick. I’ve never seen two people more infatuated with each other and in denial about it.”

“Hmm…” you hummed as you thought. “I guess I’m glad that she’s got friends here. I’m less glad that her social skills haven’t improved since she was a middle schooler.” you paused once more. “What if we set them up together?”

The words you’d said to your sister the last time you came to visit reverberated in your head. Something about not interfering with each other’s love lives anymore. A counterargument immediately came to mind–your sister already forfeited this agreement when she decided to pull that little stunt at the Saloon. Not that you were particularly mad at it, but the game seemed to already be afoot. It was only fair that you got to play, too. 

“I mean, a friendly nudge couldn’t hurt…” he trailed off. 

“And that’s really all they need,” you agreed. “I would love to help you with this operation, but I don’t see me being very useful with this while I’m in the city.”

Harvey thought for a moment, then seemingly hesitated before he spoke. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way we can brainstorm and I can keep you updated if I find anything else out about their status.”

You couldn’t exactly say that was what you were expecting to hear from him, but you certainly couldn’t say that you were mad about his offer either. In fact, getting his number was probably one of the best outcomes you could’ve hoped to accomplish the entire trip–outside of bonding and spending quality time with your sibling. 

You took his device and entered your contact information, feeling like you were on a cloud higher than cloud nine.  

For the rest of the feast, you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. You could chalk it up to the collective joy of the community as a young girl set the star-shaped topper on the tree, or the laughter that bounced around the table throughout the meal, but deep down, you knew what it really was. For so long, you’d been happy with your life, but missing and craving one thing—and you finally felt like you had some semblance of a shot at getting it. 

Despite all the less-than-ideal temperatures and the histrionics of your sister after a few drinks, you found that you weren’t so mad that you came to spend the holiday in Stardew Valley after all.

[mouserthefirst]

sevika fluff for @sapph0ediva! if this isn't quite what you wanted, feel free to lmk :) this is my first time writing sevika so i hope you enjoy <3

word count: 819 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

When Sevika woke up from losing her fucking arm, she was expecting…well, maybe not an apology from Silco, but maybe a few day’s leave or something. Maybe a get well soon card from one of Silco’s henchmen which they would be predictably too scared to give to Sevika. She was certainly not expecting the Eye of Zaun himself to have adopted a goddamn child.

     But a child is what she finds sitting in Silco’s office, face covered in snot, hair in a ratty braid. Sevika’s still a little off-balance – losing an arm will do that to you, asshole – but she feels like falling over when she sees this snotty, raggedy little kid wearing Silco’s jacket around her thin shoulders, sniffling into the collar.  

     “The hell is this?” she rasps. God, she needs a cigarette. It’s too early in the day to deal with more of Silco’s bullshit.

     The kid looks up, eyes giant and glassy with tears. “I-I—”

     Sevika moves to put her hands on her hips, and when only one actually does so, she feels a pang of annoyance. It’s going to take a while to get used to this. “I just lost my arm, kid. Don’t make me lose my patience too.”    

     That seems to make the kid even worse. “I’m, sniff, sorry.”

     Sevika rolls her eyes and stalks past the kid to the cigar box on the desk. She intends to ignore it until the kid’s watery eyes on her back get too annoying to overlook. “Look, if you want to stare at someone, go bother somebody else.”   

     The kid just lets out a little sob.

     Sevika’s fingers tighten around her cigar. She’s been on her last straw for a while now, but this takes the cake in terms of the shit she lets Silco get up to. Still, there’s something in her, something she’d never admit exists, that wants to comfort the kid. She’s sure it’s nothing. “What’s your name then, kid?”

     “Pow – Jinx,” the kid says quietly, then repeats a little firmer, “it’s Jinx.”

     “’Kay then,” says Sevika. Weird ass name, but who’s she to judge? “Jinx. What’re you doing here?” 

     “S-Silco found me,” Jinx sniffles. “He said I could stay.”

     Sevika scoffs and shakes her head as she lights up. “Of course.”

     “Did I say something wrong?” Jinx asks, eyes big.

     “Nah, it’s not you,” Sevika says. “Just…fucking bosses, y’know?”

     “Not really,” Jinx snivels.

     Sevika shrugs – the kid’s probably got a point, what would she know about bosses? – but before she can think of what to say next, Jinx is back to crying.  

     The kid’s covered in snot and looks like she hasn’t slept or washed up in a few days. Sevika’s seen some nasty stuff in her time, but seeing a kid like this never brings her pleasure. “Listen, I’m sure everything’s gonna be fine. Always is.”

     Jinx lets out a muffled sob and before Sevika can blink, the kid’s throwing her small body across the room at her. Thin arms wrap around her waist and Jinx’s head leans against Sevika’s stomach as she cries. Sevika awkwardly reaches up to pat the kid’s blue hair, hand running over her short, stubby little braid. Her sobs make Sevika feel a flash of pity, just for a second.

     “Hey, what did I say?” she says gruffly. “Everything’s good. I’ve just gotta clean up Silco’s messes like always. And you’ll, uh, do whatever you do. Just like always, yeah?”

     The kid’s arms tighten around her waist. She can’t be older than twelve, but she’s got some strength in her, somewhere in that little body.

     They stay like that for a while, and Sevika swears she’s gonna rip Silco a new one for this. But when Jinx falls asleep on the couch, some ratty toy bunny in her thin arms, Sevika can’t help but let a bit of her anger go. It’s not that she likes the kid – in fact, Jinx is really goddamn annoying – but a part of her feels sort of bad for her. She hates to see it, but she can see why Silco decided to keep her. He probably sees a piece of himself in the girl or something dramatic like that. 

     After that, Sevika sort of takes care of Jinx. She swears she’s just doing her job, and they both hate each other equally, but she’d be lying if she said a part of her doesn’t feel like the kid is someone she’s supposed to protect. She’s fought out of obligation her whole life – it feels sort of nice to be fighting for someone just because she wants to.

     And sure, they don’t have anything in common. Sevika’d rather turn bluebelly than spend an hour with Jinx, and she’s pretty sure the kid feels the same way. But that doesn’t mean Sevika privately thinks Jinx isn’t too bad at all – it’s just that she’d never tell a soul about it.

[charcoalhawk]

Thanks for the memories (even though they weren’t so great)

Backup truce gift for @ecto-stone , I had a lot of fun with this, and I’m putting your prompt at the bottom so as not to spoil the fic.

Right now Jack and Danny are moving boxes out of the attic, appliances and other gifts he and Maddie had bought to help the kids get their legs underneath them for their first place.

But of course both of them have the bad habit of getting distracted easily so it’s taking them three times as long as it probably should. Jack is currently distracted by a book of the kids' baby pictures while Danny is sifting through a box of Jack’s old college junk.

Title is from Thnks fr th Mmrs (Thanks for the memories) by Fall Out Boy

Warnings: none

The days leading up to Danny moving out are bittersweet.

Jasmine had left in a whirlwind of boxes two years prior, her car stuffed to the brim as she insisted she could make the drive on her own. In the end she had let Danny tag along in his own beat up car to help with moving in, but had insisted that Maddie and Jack wouldn’t need to come.

Danny’s not moving nearly as far, only the next city over to go to their community college, but he and his friends had begged to be able to rent their own place rather than make the hour-long drive every day to classes.

Right now Jack and Danny are moving boxes out of the attic, appliances and other gifts he and Maddie had bought to help the kids get their legs underneath them for their first place.

But of course both of them have the bad habit of getting distracted easily so it’s taking them three times as long as it probably should. Jack is currently distracted by a book of the kids' baby pictures while Danny is sifting through a box of Jack’s old college junk.

“Oh I remember this one!” Jack says for the tenth time, shifting to show Danny the picture, “you begged and begged and begged us for a telescope, and we had fooled you into thinking we had forgotten, and then we told you there was one more present up in the observatory, you ran up here to see the latest model telescope all set up for you.”

“Oh yeah, I think I spent the rest of the week sleeping up there? I just remember mom having to bribe me with glow in the dark stars on my ceiling before I stopped sneaking back up here.”

“Speaking of Danno, you definitely have to come around for Christmas. I know as a kid we didn’t make it the best time for you and Jazz but at least come Christmas Day for presents.”

Danny gives a terse grin and nods, and it makes Jack's heart ache and bloom in equal measure that his kids are so forgiving. And speaking of forgiving, that gives Jack an excellent idea.

“Maybe we can even invite Vladdie over as well! I’m sure he gets lonely in that big empty house of his. Maybe he can bring some of his stash of decorations and we can properly bedazzle this place for the holidays.

Danny gives a disbelieving snort and scrunches his nose when Vlad is mentioned, but Jack can’t help but shift in place as he shakes his hands out, imagining his whole family all in one spot, he can barely contain his excitement at the thought.

“Ol’ Vladdie loved Christmas! I remember waking up November first to our entire dorm being decked out with decorations, and he always won best dressed at our college Christmas parties.”

Danny’s still staring at Jack like he’s grown two heads, so Jack shifts so he’s closer to the box Danny was sifting through.

“Here, there must be an old photo book in that box, I’m sure the picture I’m thinking of is in there.”

Danny shifts around the two large varsity jackets and old certificates, finding a semi-thick book near the bottom.

“I remember putting a book like that together for Vlad while he was in the hospital, I remember we couldn’t go in to see him so I asked the front desk if I could leave it with his things. Thinking back now I hope they didn’t lose it somewhere, Vlad’s stuff was all in quarantine so they had to store any gifts somewhere else.”

The first couple pages are mostly filled with pictures of the campus itself, but as they continue both Vlad and Maddie start to pop up with more and more frequency. Finally the weather in the pictures turns cold, and there are pictures of Christmas lights and a heavily decorated dorm room.

And then- there it is.

It’s a picture of Vlad, definitely drunk, leaning against Jack with a huge smile on his face. One hand is high in the air waving to someone out of sight, and the other is curled around Jack’s neck holding on for dear life.

Jack is Dressed in a fuzzy green sweater with the words ‘mistle-foe’ stitched on. And Vlad is wearing a striking red cocktail dress, with white fuzz at the wrists and skirt.

“I think that was the year that Mariah Carey song came out, Vladdie would sing that every morning in the shower at full blast, annoyed the snot outta our neighbors.

Jack grins fondly down at the picture, absently brushing the edge of the book to fix some imaginary wrinkle.

Danny pulls the book towards himself in disbelief, and Jack shuffled back to the box he was picking through.

“I hope you and your friends can make memories like this, and definitely remember to send us plenty of-“

But when Jack turns back Danny is already clamoring down the attic stairs, photobook clutched in one hand while the other frantically fishes his phone out. As his head disappears down to the house he can faintly hear Jazz from the phone’s speaker.

—————

Prompt was- Vlad in Mariah Carey Christmas dress

[kaunis-sielu]

Naja Returns: 2

When you get Cassie back to the safe house you switch out the plates on the car, just in case. Then, slipping out of the garage you pull your phone out of your pocket and find Bucky’s number. Taking a deep breath you press his name then put the phone to your ear.

“Hi Doll.”

“Bucky.” You’re a bit embarrassed to admit that you sound breathless when you say his name.

“You somewhere safe?”

“Yea.” You assure him, it warms your heart that he’s asked. “Why are you in New York?”

“Never really left. I got a place in Brooklyn after everything that went down with you.”

“Oh.” He, never left?

“Can we meet up somewhere? I feel like we have a lot to talk about and I’d rather do it face to face.”

“You can come here. Just, make sure you’re not followed.”

“Your client is okay with that?”

“I trust you and she trusts me.” I tell him and Bucky is quiet for a moment.

“I, thank you.” You’re surprised that he seems surprised by this information. He did save your life once after all.

“I’ll send you my address.”

“Is this your new number?”

“Yea.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few.” He promises and after you hang up you send him the address. Cassie is in the bedroom when his car pulls up.

“Hey Cassie. Bucky is here do you wanna hang with us or in your room?”

“I’ll stay in my room if that’s okay? He’s such a big man.”

“Whatever makes you more comfortable. I’ll keep him in the living room.”

“Thank you. For everything.” You can’t help but give her a little smile, Cassie is a sweetheart and you hate what he’s done to her. The knock at the door doesn’t surprise you, it’s two quick taps, not loud but loud enough to hear across the house. When you pull the door open Bucky moves into the house.

“Hi.” He says not looking at you but instead glancing around the room. “Where is Cassie?”

“In her room. She doesn’t need to be here does she?”

“No.” He stares at you for a moment. “It’s really nice to see you Tori.”

“You too Bucky.” This is kind of awkward, you don’t know how to react. The last time you saw him you were running away from him after killing several men. “Do you want to sit down?” He sinks onto the couch then looks over at you on the armchair.

“So, you’ve put yourself on the map with some dangerous men.”

“Not the first time. Won’t be the last.” You tell him with a little shrug.

“Probably true.” He rests his elbows on his knees, “but Sam thinks these ones are dirty. So these ones have a badge and probably a vendetta.”

“Great.” You deadpan and he gives you a little smile. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“I want to hire you.”

“I’m a little busy Bucky.”

“I know. I have a plan for that too.”

“That you came up with in less than an hour?” You ask with raised brows and he chuckles.

“The plan started to come together the second I saw you.” You lean back in your chair waiting for him to continue. “I could put Natasha on your client. She’s the best female I have. We’ll keep the same agreement you have with her and we’ll stay on her until you’re satisfied that the job is done.”

“They know me now.”

“So did I.” He says locking eyes with you. “Tori. My team isn’t built for surveillance and evidence gathering. You took down an entire team of assassins by yourself in less than twelve hours. I got an up close and personal look at how you work and I’m still not sure how you did it.”

“I have to talk to Cassie about this. I won’t just abandon her to someone she doesn’t trust.”

“Understandable. I can have Nat come over?”

“I want to talk to Cassie first. Before anyone comes over.”

“Okay.” He agrees, “would you ever consider actually joining Nomad?”

“No.” Bucky laughs softly at your immediate response, and you’re glad that you didn’t offend him. “No offense but I’m better working on my own.”

“I wasn’t offended. It would just offer you some extra protection if something were to happen.”

“If I kill someone.”

“Yea.”

“I’ve only killed one guy and that was because he started it.” You tell him, in your defense he did start it. He’d started the shooting the second he’d laid eyes on you, you’d just finished the shooting. Bucky grins at you,

“Just give it a thought Doll? Please?” You nod and he leans back against the couch.

“How have you been?” He asks,

“I’ve been okay. Keeping busy, trying to make sure that I don’t slip back into bad habits.”

“Like?”

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to just, get rid of these men and not bring them to the police?”

“I’d like to think it would give you some pause after six years.”

“You’d think.” You agree but he’s wrong. Sometimes it’s so easy to imagine how you’d take care of the shit heads before you met Bucky.

“And you’ve really been okay?”

“Yea. I have steady work, I feel like I’m making a positive difference. It’s, nice.”

“Good. Are you,” he shifts in his seat, “are you seeing anyone?”

“No. Hard to date someone when I have to lie to them about my past.”

“Oh, right.” He rubs the back of his neck, “sorry. This is kinda weird right?” You can’t help but laugh,

“Yea it’s kinda weird.” You affirm and he leans back in the chair.

“Why did you run from me?”

“Because, I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be and being around you when I couldn’t do that was too hard.”

“So you ran from me?”

“And my past. At least a little.” You admit, Bucky nods his head.

“I can understand that. Do you want to go talk to Cassie so I can fill you in on my plan?”

“Yea, it might be a tough sell.” You tell him before standing and heading to the room where Cassie is hanging out.

Tag list:

@connie326 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama