#Let me live in my little bubble of 'everyone's still alive somewhere so it's okay' a little longer

[wishing-stones]

WOULD THE BOYS™️ PLAY FFVII? WHO WOULD BE THEIR FAVORITE CHARACTER? (this is coming from a place of adoration- i’ve found another creator i like who also likes ffvii this means everything to me)

Oh my god hahaha, no, I have to do this one

I'm pulling from the expanded FFVII universe for all games up through Rebirth, and assuming everyone has played the various compilations and seen Advent Children (Complete) since they're a bunch of fuckin nerds

Just so everyone's aware, possible spoilers for Rebirth (through chapter 12ish) ahead

Killer is a hopeless Sephiroth stan, don't tell me you didn't see this coming. All that edge and charm, he's a hopeless fanboy. (And as much as he likes Villain Sephiroth, he also vibes hard with Sephiroth Pre-Nibelheim Incident, too. He knows what it's like to snap, even if you have a support system in place, and people who care about you.) He's actually awful about it. The man would be a member of Silver Elite if he could be.

Dust loves Barret, and even more so after Rebirth. He's the one piloting every game while everyone watches, so he's the nerd most invested in the story. Barret's fierce, family-driven nature and unabashed love for those close to him (and willingness to let people see how deeply he feels those emotions, if they're close enough to him,) resonates hard with Dust. After the scene in the desert in Rebirth, he had to set the controller down for a moment (and me too, tbh, his actor killed the emotion in that scene, I was crying hard.)

Axe really likes Tifa. She's a boss bitch who is strong not in spite of her insecurities and weaknesses, but because of them. She's aware of them, but doesn't let them bother her friends if she can help it, and he feels that deeply. She's doing her best, trying her hardest to protect what little she has left, and wow, if he doesn't understand that. She also happens to be pretty passionate about cooking and mixology, and he also greatly enjoys that.

Cross is a huge fan of Zack. He's energetic, he's upbeat and optimistic, and it's infectious. He's a very easy character to like, but what endeared Cross to him is his his drive to do everything in his power to save and protect his friends, and how, when he failed with Angeal, he wasn't afraid to let his grief show, doubly so around the person arguably most important to him. Zack's story is a tragic one, though, so he was a wreck at the end of Crisis Core (and then again at the end of Remake when it doesn't end quite the same way)

Baggs only pays attention to dialogue and cutscenes, but he's managed to follow the story enough to understand what's going on and who's who. He likes Vincent the most. His deep guilt and trauma are an intriguing story to him, although he's not quite sure how to feel about the ending of Dirge of Cerberus. He's enjoying Vincent a lot in Rebirth as well, and is amused at the sort of 'crotchety old fuddy-duddy' vibes he's giving off. Wonder why.

Nightmare, unsurprisingly, likes Rufus. He's also only paid partial attention to the games, mostly tuning in for cutscenes and important dialogue, but Rufus is a very intriguing villain for him, especially in Remake and Rebirth. Nightmare found himself nodding along to what was being said a lot of the time, and what really sold him was Rufus' interaction with Lodbrok in his office, where he proudly took the insult of being a lonely, selfish man who hated his father and wore it like armor. He owned up to his insecurities and weaknesses and defied they be used against him. Nightmare was sold.

And since Blue is a JRPG guy, he's played them with the stars, too;

Dream is naturally drawn to Aerith, and is gutted when she dies. He was inconsolable for the original, and was anxious watching Blue play Rebirth. He adores her, how gentle she remains no matter the adversity, how, in spite of that, she doesn't take anyone's guff, either, and how she's willing to maybe twist her words up a bit to get someone to do what she wants. No one quite expects someone so sweet to be able to manipulate like she can, and it's just a facet of her personality he enjoys.

Ink likes Reeve and Cait Sith, by extension. The one guy in the evil megacorp who wants to do good, who cares about the people, and who, despite having to occasionally follow orders or else, he really wants to help fix things. He just... can't directly intervene sometimes. Hm. That's a familiar story. He also enjoys the dichotomy of proper, upright, sensible man in a suit, and a reliable department head.... to... well, Cait Sith.

Blue, similar to Cross, loves Zack. He doesn't quit, no matter the adversity, and smiles through it all. He's proud, he's honorable, and he's just an upstanding guy all around. blue was devastated at the end of Crisis Core, but every moment that he was in Remake and Rebirth, he was over the moon.

All of them, all of them absolutely detest Hojo. It's actually one of Dust's "Don't Get Me Started" subjects, he will go on at length and in-depth about how everything wrong in the world of FFVII circles back to him (he isn't wrong).

[just-jordie-things]

The Crown - Steve Harrington

word count: 4462 warnings: dedicated to @high-functioning-fangirl02 <3

You’d give your life to protect these kids.  

These kids you’ve known since you started babysitting them in the sixth grade.  Back when Mrs Henderson hired you to watch Dustin.  Which essentially meant that you’d watch all of them.  But that was alright, over the past seven years of being their designated babysitter, you’d grown to love them all.

Mike Wheeler, the snarky little love-struck shit that you spent grieving with since losing Eleven.  Lucas Sinclair, the sweet boy with the occasional attitude whom you helped construct his Ghostbusters costume. Will Byers, the full time sweetheart that made you cookies for Valentine’s Day after hearing you complain about being dateless.  And of course Dustin, cute little button nosed Dusty with a trash mouthing tendency, whom looked up to you like a role model.

Hell, you were their role model.  Driving them to and from school, covering for them on late nights so they could finish their D&D tournaments.  Fiercely protecting them a year ago when Hawkins was Demogorgon infested.  Standing up for them when you’d see some upperclassmen picking on them.

Those who dared glance the wrong way towards The Party in your presence, were rumored to run home crying with a bleeding nose and terrified shriek.  You never put down the rumors… because maybe it had happened once or twice…

Over time The Party was no longer just a band of middle schoolers.  It had opened up to their babysitter, being you, a senior girl who had not many other friends.  Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, which the boys always claimed was strictly because of family relations.  Not because Dustin was still harbouring a crush for Mike’s older sister.  The town Sheriff, Jim Hopper, who’d proved himself not to be an asshole, and turned out an alright guy.  Joyce Byers, whom you loved like a mother and whom treated you like her own daughter.  You’d frequently been titled ‘the daughter she wished to have had’ which always raised a snarky response from her sons.  Maxine (just Max.  Never Maxine) Hargrove, a high spirited and not your typical girl that you grew fond of easily.  Especially since she was nothing like her big brother.

And then there was Steve Harrington.  Who… really just was at the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up getting roped into the mess that Hawkins Lab had created.  King Steve, as you’d known him before you’d officially met last year by fluke accident, was always the popular boy that had a pretty girl hanging off his arm.  You weren’t sure why that changed so quickly, why he didn’t put himself out there as much as he used to, didn’t party hard anymore, wasn’t bragging about the new girl he was with that week like he was known for.  Maybe that day, when he walked into the Wheeler’s house right as you Nancy and Jonathan were awaiting the Demogorgon’s arrival, maybe he changed then.

Or maybe it was after he’d been sucked into… whatever this all was… and he changed to keep the secret.  Or maybe it was after Nancy had broken up with him, around the same time he started growing closer to Dustin.

But right now as you watched him directing the kids, you were more aware that he wasn’t King Steve anymore, that you had been before.  Sure, you’d realized somewhere along the way he was different.  But it wasn’t until now that you noticed it completely as it was.

“No listen you little shits, no one, is going anywhere” Steve ordered, holding a wash rag in his hand and pointing it between each of the boys, and girl, that stood in front of him.

“Friggin’ pointless just staying here” Dustin grumbled, walking out of the room whilst still muttering.  Mike groaned loudly, dramatically, and left to the living room with Max and Lucas.  You knew that he was still plotting you get out there tonight.  Consequences and dangers be damned.

You looked to Steve with a sigh, a lazy smile on your lips as you walked past him to go after Dustin.  He watched you go, letting out a breath as well as he put his hands on his hips and standing alone in the hall with his thoughts.

He’d give his life to protect these kids.

“Dusty?” You called gently as you walked into the kitchen, seeing Dustin sitting on the floor against the dishwasher.  Your brows furrowed as you sat across from him by the cabinets.  “You alright kiddo?”

“Would I be sitting in here brooding if I was?” He quipped, though you knew he meant well.

“Sweetheart you’re too adorable to be a brooder” You laughed softly, pulling your knees up slightly.  “A pouter maybe, but not a brooder”

“Thanks y/n” He responded dryly.  You rolled your eyes in response to his sarcasm.

“Come on kid, open up a little.  It’s me” Your words were soft, which did prompt Dustin to consider explaining to you his thoughts.  “Please? If we make it out of this alive I’ll take you to the arcade.  I’ve got a big jar full of quarters I’ve saved up-”

“Okay okay I’ll take the bribe” Dustin caved with a laugh that made your mood lighten.  “Look it’s gonna sound lame and cheesy but… everyone else is helping.  Jonathan and Nance and Mrs Byers and Hopper and Elle, but what am I doing?”

“You’re staying safe” Your answer came out instantly, but it didn’t seem to be the one the boy was looking for.

“No I’m not, I’m sitting on the sidelines, watching everyone else go be heroes and getting hurt.  I’m not doing a damn thing!”

“Hey” You hummed softly, and scooted over closer to put your head on his shoulder.  “You’re a hero Dustin.  Don’t tell yourself any differently.  All of you are, Mike too, and Lucas, and Max, and-”

“Steve?” Dustin offered, and you nodded, looking at him confusedly by the strange tone of voice he used.

“Of course, why’re you looking at me like that?”

“No reason” Dustin shrugged nonchalantly, brushing off the uncomfortable air between you both.

“Alright well, you should believe me” You continued.  “Even if you don’t think so, you’re all my heroes, got it Henderson?” The boy smiled and nodded, prompting you to push the cap of his hat down playfully before he could get up and leave the room.

“Mike’s probably still planning his attack” He told you, but you shrugged and waved a hand.

“Let him plot and brood” You said, and Dustin’s mouth fell open.

“How come Mike can brood but I can’t?” You rolled your eyes, still waving your hand for him to get out of here.

“Just go plot with him, I know you’re itching to” You said, and he grinned wide at you, glad you were letting him go plan their escape and attack.

“Thanks y/n!” He called, already racing out of the room.  “You’re the best!” You laughed, shaking your head as you stood back up and dusted off the pants of your overalls.  Steve came in a few moments later, watching you almost suspiciously.

“What?” You questioned, and he shrugged, shaking his head.

“Nothing.  Just wondering why you’re permitting them to conspire against us” He said.

“They’re not conspiring, they’re just discussing.  No harm in that”

“Um, every harm in that.  As in all of us, being harmed, because of that” He said, but you didn’t really seem to care what he thought about it.

“They’re fine, we’re all fine, don’t freak out so much mom” You said, walking out towards the kids and seeing them all circled up and discussing their big plan.

“I’m not a mom” Steve argued, and you chuckled, turning to see him, his dish rag on his shoulder, hands on hips.  It only made you laugh more.

“Mhm, alright.  Well then what would you call yourself?” You replied sarcastically, nodding towards his own stance, and making Steve second guess himself.

“This- you-! Alright whatever just stay away from the windows and go be safe somewhere” He muttered, walking into the living room where the kids were.  You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

Perhaps, you thought, King Steve was the king of something else now.

You watched as he was waving his rag at the kids again, yelling at them for plotting behind his back, and reminding them that no one was going anywhere.  But even as Dustin pouted, Steve was rubbing his hand over the thirteen year old’s head.  Almost soothingly, like he felt bad for ending their little meeting.

“What a mom” You mumbled, and headed back into the kitchen for something to eat.

You used to resent Steve, back when he was the king of school and didn’t care about anything more than he cared about his popularity and his hair.  Back when he didn’t give a shit about pretty much anything.  And looking at him now and seeing him watch over these kids, you could physically feel your heart swelling.  If that isn’t character development, you weren’t sure what was.

You weren’t sure why it made you feel so bubbly either.

“Listen runts, we’re staying here, we’re staying safe, and we’re not dying!” Steve said, for what felt like the fifth time.  But Mike kept arguing back at him.

“Everyone else is out there!”

“Everyone else knows how to fight all that shit!” Steve retorted.  “We are staying, here” He repeated slowly, waving his rag between each word.  “You got that?”

“You’re just saying that cause y/n’s here.  If she wasn’t here, we’d all be getting in your car and going!” Lucas spoke up.  Your brows furrowed at that.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, ignoring your search for food and now strutting into the room where everyone else was.  “Am I dragging you down?” You asked, almost sarcastic, but wondering what he’d actually meant by his announcement.  Were you dragging them down?

“No, Steve would just protect your ass over our asses” Max shrugged, and the others nodded.

“What the hell? Everyone here is protecting their own asses, I’m not getting killed for a bunch of kids!” Steve said, making flustered and jerky movements.  You brushed off their newly sprung argument over where Steve’s bat is swinging and who it’s swinging for.

Apparently, The Party was certain that he’d die for you, rather die for them.  But you didn’t care much about what they thought.  They’d always thought that you and Steve were meant to be some power couple, but you supposed it was just cause you were the same age and the kids only ever saw you two together.  There was no real evidence (as far as they showed) towards the ‘chemistry’ you and Steve supposedly had.

You wandered to the window, curiously looking out it with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Will you just shut up?” Mike’s yelling made you jump a little, and you turned to see your friends all still arguing with each other.  You smiled slightly, meeting Steve’s eyes as he gave you a bored look.  You just laughed a little bit back at him.  Steve’s expression softened into a small smile.  Your face flushed with heat, and you nervously turned away from him to look back out the window again.

A light blinded you almost instantly, making you squint your eyes and put a hand over them to try and clear your vision.

“What the hell?” You muttered, leaning closer to the glass to see what was going on.  Headlights, there was a car here.  Someone was here.  “Steve?” You called, not turning away from the window.  He came over right away, looking outside to see a familiar Camaro parked in the driveway.

“Shit” He grumbled, walking towards the front door.

“What- where are you going? Who is it?” You asked, following quickly after him, but Steve quickly turned to make you stay back.

“Just stay in here-”

“Sinclair!” A voice hollered from outside, and you jumped, eyes widening as you recognized it.  “I know you’re in there!”

“Billy?” You whispered to Steve, who nodded.  You stepped backwards, eyes never leaving Steve’s.  “What’s he doing here?” Your voice was quiet.

Billy Hargrove, was the most vile, horrible person you’d ever met.  And his wicked ways of bending people to his will, shook you intensely to your core.  It was no secret to the others that Billy not only terrified you, but would seductively torture you every day.  Sure, you’d been picked on before, but this was different.  Every day he’d come to you, hoping to get something out of you, just to mess with you.

“Come on babe, a little kiss, just a little one, we can discuss the rest later”

“You don’t want to get a ride home with me and have some fun?”

“When’re you finally gonna give this up and just put out?”

You shuddered slightly, practically feeling his hot breath against your skin just thinking about the things he’s said to you.  Stopping you in the hallways, finding you at your locker, approaching you while you waited at Steve’s car for a ride home.

“I know you’re in there you little pig! Come out here or I’ll have to go in!” His voice was dangerous, threatening.  And you felt a legitimate fear for your life, and the kids’.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, I promise” Steve said quietly, out of earshot of the others.  “All of you stay here, stay away from the windows” He ordered, giving you one last look before you turned and went to The Party.  They needed you right now, all huddled around Lucas and Max to make sure if Billy were to look inside, he wouldn’t see them.

“Come on guys” You said softly, ushering them as far away from the window as you could.  Steve, on the other hand, opened the door and stepped outside.

Instead of hiding in a room, completely out of sight of the maniac, you all ducked under the windowsill to see what was happening.

“Am I dreaming or is that really you Harrington?” You felt your entire body quivering upon hearing Billy’s voice.  Dustin, who was crouched next to you, turned and gave you a worried look, but your eyes were dead set on the outside.

“Yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants” Steve responded, walking out towards him as he pulled off his leather jacket.

“What’re you doing here amigo?” Billy asked, the cigarette hanging off his lips moving as he spoke.

“I could ask you the same thing” Steve responded, void of emotion.  “Amigo”

“Lookin’ for my step sister.  Little birdie told me she was here”

“Huh, that’s weird I don’t know her” Steve lied easily, and convincingly.  You prayed to God that Billy believed him.

“Small? Redhead?” Billy replied disbelievingly.  “Bit of a bitch?”

“Ashole” Max muttered to herself inside.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry buddy” Steve replied, still not sounding like he cared even an inkling.  Billy nodded, taking out his cigarette.

“You know… I don’t how this, this whole situation Harrington is um.., it’s giving me the heebie jeebies” Billy said, looking at Steve a little more threateningly.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“My thirteen year old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you” Billy pointed accusatory hands towards Steve, giving him a disgusted look.  “In a strangers house” He continued.  “And you lie to me about it” Steve chuckled bitterly, shaking his head and looking away for a moment.

“Yeah, maybe you were dropped too much as a child or what” Steve said snarkily.  But Billy just grinned his twisted grin and licked his tongue over the front of his teeth.  “I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I just said”

You felt a chill go down your spine as Steve’s protectiveness took over his tone.  Dustin beside you mumbling a quiet, “Holy shit”

“She’s not here” Steve said carefully.  Billy nodded, looking pointedly towards the window where you and The Party were all huddled and looking out of.

“Then who’s that?” He asked, pointing his cigarette towards his sister.

“Down!” You hissed, and the five of you dropped to the floor so fast you all groaned from the impact of the floor.

“Shit!” Dustin cursed.  “Did he see us?”

“Oh shit” Steve grumbled.  “Okay listen-” Billy pushed him to the ground before he could explain anything.  The boy kicked him, before storming up into the house.

“Well well well” Billy smirked, seeing you and The Party standing there together, you in front of all of them.  “y/n l/n, what a lovely little surprise” You grimaced, but he didn’t seem to care.  “And Lucas Sinclair, not so much a surprise at all” You moved over more in front of Lucas, who’s hands grabbed onto your arm out of fear.  “I thought I told you to stay away from him Max”

“Billy, go away” Max retorted, but her voice wavered.

“You disobeyed me” Billy leaned over his step sister tauntingly.  “And you know what happens when you disobey me” He added in a hushed, volatile voice.

“Billy-”

“I break things” He uttered, before pushing you aside, crashing your body into the wall.  Before slamming Lucas up against the cupboards.

“Billy stop!” Max and the others began to yell, Dustin rushing over to help you up, but you were already standing up on your own.

“Get off of me!” Lucas cried.

“Since Maxine won’t listen to me, maybe you will” Billy muttered.  “You stay away from her.  Stay-! Away from her” He yelled awkwardly.  “Do you hear me?”

“I said get off me!” Lucas screamed again, followed by a knee between Billy’s legs.  You gasped, feeling a moment of pride as Billy stumbled back and released him.

“You are so dead Sinclair!” Billy hollered.  “You’re dead-”

“No” Steve grabbed Billy by the shoulder, spinning him around roughly.  “You are” And with that he swung his fist and planted it hard enough against Billy’s jaw to make him topple over.

“Steve!” You yelped out of surprise.  He looked at you for a moment, nodding in reassurance as he shook out his hand.  It’d been a while since he’d hit anybody.  Billy stood back up, laughing menacingly.  “You’re a fucking psycho!” You screeched before you could stop yourself.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all huh!?” He yelled at Steve.  “I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about” He stepped closer to Steve, glaring at him.

“Get out” Steve muttered, pushing Billy’s chest lightly to move him away from him.  Billy stepped back and stood there for a moment.  And after a few seconds passed you were certain that he was going to stay back.

Until he swung swiftly at Steve, but missed as Steve ducked just in time.  You gasped, clapping your hands over your mouth in terror.  Steve stood back up and swung his fist again, hitting Billy and making him stumble again.

“Yes! Get him Steve!” Dustin cheered, and the others began to as well.  You couldn’t find yourself to say anything, just wince every time a punch was made.  Steve hit him two more times, and Billy ran into the kitchen sink.  Leaning back and wincing in pain.

“Kill him! Kill him!” Mike was yelling.  But Billy grabbed a plate of the counter, smashing it over Steve’s head, and making him fall to the ground.

“Steve!” You screamed now, taking long strides to get over to him, only to be pushed away by Billy.  Who hit Steve as soon as he stood up again.  He grabbed Steve by the shoulders, staring him down.

“No one.  Tells me what to do” He muttered angrily, and threw his head forward hard into Steve’s knocking him down again.

“Fucking hell” You mumbled, tears beginning to prick your eyes in fear that Billy was actually going to kill Steve.  The mullet wearing psycho leapt onto Steve, pinning him down and swinging punch after punch against his face.

“Stop it!” Mike yelled at the top of his lungs, but it did nothing to end Billy’s attack.

“Steve!” Dustin hollered.

You stood frozen, every scene in front of you soundless, and moving slowly.  You could only feel your heart in your chest, sending you into an anxiety attack, you were sure.  But it barely mattered to you in that moment.  You turned away, and your eyes landed on something.

The syringe used on Will earlier.

Sleep… put him to sleep… your thoughts were broken as you reached for it, looking at it in your hands for a few seconds, before stepping forward and slamming the needle into Billy’s neck without a hesitation.  Mike and Dustin gasped, standing back.  Everyone’s eyes stuck on the syringe hanging out of BIlly’s neck now.  A disgust filling them up at the sight.

“Shit y/n” Dustin mumbled, his hand covering his mouth to stop vomit from flowing.

Billy stood up, wobbling slightly as he turned to look at you.  He pulled the needle out of his neck, vision beginning to fail.  “The hell is this?” He asked, trying to step towards you threateningly, but he was wobbling so much you didn’t even move.  No longer afraid of him.

“You’re fucking done Hargrove” You muttered, and before thinking twice to second guess yourself, punching him across the jaw, and sending him back on his ass.  Billy groaned, staying down where he’d fallen against the couch.

“Shit what did you do” He mumbled, growing dizzy from the mix of drug and pain.

A few moments later he completely passed out.

“Fuck” You hissed in pain, putting your bruising knuckles against your mouth.  You didn’t think punching someone would hurt so damn much.

“y/n holy shit”

“Are you okay?”

“That was badass!”

The Party was fussing and cheering for you, but you didn’t respond, kneeling down by Steve next and counting up all the cuts and bruises he was beginning to sport.  He was unconscious, that was for sure.  But he’d be in for a world of hurt when he woke up.

“Come on, help me get him back to Jon’s bed” You called to the kids.

It was difficult moving him, but after ten minutes you’d managed to get him into Jonathan’s room to lie on the bed there.  You were sat next to him, a cold wet rag in your hand, and the open first aid kit on the ground.  It took you awhile to clean off all the blood and apply bandages where you thought they were necessary.  There was a frozen bag of peas you’d put over one of his eyes to stop the swelling, but so far it still looked pretty bad.

The Party had sat with you for what felt like a long time before you told them to go back to the living room and wait for the others to return home.  Dustin put up a small fight about it, but eventually gave in and listened to your order.  And now it was just you kneeling on the ground by Steve, watching over him carefully.  Making sure he was breathing okay, and that nothing would begin to bleed again.

“Well King Steve, you got quite the ass kicking” You mumbled, just to yourself.  Your fingers placed a few stray hairs on his forehead back into place.  “But your crown is still there” You smiled to yourself, fingertips gently brushing his hair.

“y/n?” Your eyes looked back at him as he mumbled, almost incoherently.  “What happened?” The poor boy’s eyes weren’t even open.

“You put up a really good fight” You told him softly.  He winced, the pain probably beginning to settle in.

“Did I win?” He groaned, eyes clenching shut momentarily.  You bit down on your lip and shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“You put up a really good fight” You repeated yourself, playing with his hair again.  Steve sighed, knowing the answer.

“Is he gone?” He asked, eyes finally beginning to flutter open.

“Yeah… yeah he won’t be back any time soon, I’m sure” You answered.  Steve looked up at you, smiling down gently at him.  He smiled back instantly, and moved his arm to push your hair back, but even at it’s slight movement you winced in pain.  “You’re in pretty bad shape” You told him quietly.  “But you’ll heal up alright”

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine” You shrugged slightly.  “We’re all really worried about you.  Dustin thought you were dead” Steve chuckled painfully, shaking his head a little bit.

“Are they alright? Max and Lucas?”

“Yeah, we’re all good Steve” You hummed with a slight nod.  You leaned forward, a little closer to him to check on the eye swelled under the bag of peas.  You frowned, seeing the black and blue bruise that only seemed to be spreading.

“I’m alright, don’t fuss so much” Steve said, putting his hand over the bag and pushing it back against his face.  Your eyes met his for a moment.

“You’re pretty bruised up Harrington” You sighed, taking the wet rag in your hand and dabbing it gently on his bruised cheek.  “There’s not an inch of your face spared”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll heal up”

“Years from now, maybe” You replied sarcastically, and he smiled at you while you carefully pressed the cold cloth to his face.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He murmured, and you looked at him for the briefest of seconds before going back to work.  Now is not the time to talk about feelings, you thought to yourself.

“Yeah? Go play hero some more and you’ll never see anything again” You told him, and he shrugged slightly, not having a response to that.

“I just wanted to remind you.  In case you haven’t been told in a while” He said.  You bit on the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too much.  You looked down at him, your eyes softening slightly.

You leaned over closer to him, pausing for a moment before pressing your lips lightly against his.  It was a chaste kiss, only lasting a few seconds as you didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already was.  When you pulled back, you smiled nervously at him, and he only smiled back at you.

“You’re lucky you didn’t die Harrington” You said, and got right back to work on pressing the rag to his wounds.

“That I am” He replied cheekily.

You giggled softly, smiling down at him and wondering just when he’d changed so much.

You knew he’d give his life for these kids too, just like you would.

love me some babysitter steve

xoxo ~ jordie

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

[junova]

.˚✦ ๋࣭ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

my universe

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

notes: this one has been in my drafts....forever. never really liked it too much but fuck it. maybe i can redeem it in a part 2??? this is more of a prologue if anything. idk we'll see. happy reading!

pairing: modern!steve rogers x reader, former!bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x natasha romanoff

concept: bucky was all you'd ever cared about, wanting him more than anyone. until he comes along, showing what it actually means to love someone. welcome to heaven in hiding.

warnings: 18+, sexual content, jealous!reader, bucky being a dick, soft!steve, heavy angst, steve is a funny lil shit at the end

wc: 3.9k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt unbearable to be here. Watching how fondly she still looked at him, after all this time, not missing a beat. It was suffocating, surrounding you by a sea of water and having no other option than to drown. Greedily, his love swallowing you up in your entirety.

He did really try to dodge her looks of longing but still, even now he felt the pull to her. It didn’t really matter how long they were absent from each others’ lives.

As you sat next to him, you could feel him slipping from your grasp. Far beyond your control, way out of your depth, he was falling. Deep down, you couldn’t really blame him. The pictures you’d seen of her did no justice, she was truly a vision. Much brighter than you would ever glow and it made you wonder if what he spoke just a few hours ago still held meaning.

Not to mention, she seemed to be as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Making you grow even more envious of her.

Sure, she had broken his heart but it wasn’t beyond forgiveness. She had simply put herself before the relationship and if you had been in her shoes you could imagine yourself doing the same. All she wanted was a better future for herself, at least it’s what he had told you.

Now sitting here you couldn’t stop thinking about how she looked at him with admiration and love laced in her eyes. Truly, if she still wanted him in her arms there was nothing stopping her.

Surely, not you. You two seemed to live on two different planes of beauty and hers was the kind you dream of having but only have a very little probability of obtaining. With her ruby hair and glossy lips, tempting nearly everyone around her to the way she carried herself and spoke to you like you were the only person she was invested in.

It wasn’t difficult to see why he spoke of her so much. You would, too.

You tried to enjoy the wonderfully prepared meal Pepper and Tony had made, well mainly Pepper. It was delicious, but your senses had gone bitter and it had nothing to do with the food.

You weren’t sure when you started to drift off, maybe it was when Bucky began looking at Natasha like she hung each and every constellation in the sky. Or maybe it’s when you heard her melodic laugh when Bucky delivered the punchline.

It was like Steve, Wanda, and Thor didn’t exist. The lovely couple in their own little bubble, speaking in a language only the two of them understood. Utterly and completely unaware of any and all of their surroundings.

“You okay?” Steve questioned, placing his hand on top of your hand, giving it a small squeeze. Discreetly and under the table away from prying eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just need some air.” You weren’t sure what could remove the nothingness inside of you, but maybe some space would provide some comfort.

You felt like your heart had been ripped out right in front of you, again. He said he wouldn’t do it again, that he wanted to be with you, but all she had to do was come to town and he’d been chasing her just like he always did.

Excusing yourself you dipped out until you were out on the back patio. Alone to just think and mull over any little thing that should have tipped you off, but didn’t. You let it slide on, blinded by how much you thought you loved him.

You weren’t left in the peaceful night long, until Steve was joining you with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of red in the other.

“You looked like you could use a glass or two.” Steve gibed carefully. “I’m just using your sour mood as an excuse to escape from the party.” You were about to object when a full glass of wine was shoved into your grasp.

“I’m not in a sour mood. I’m just swell.” You spoke before taking a big swing of the drink, nearly emptying it’s contents, sending it barreling down your throat.

“Sure, honey. Just like the green monster isn’t oozing out of you.” You found yourself intentionally growling at him, just a little agitated of the truth he spoke.

The absolute audacity on this man seemed to never end. Whether it helped you or caused more misery than he intended.

“It certainly doesn’t help that she's so goddamn perfect. Was she fucking made in a lab? Jesus Christ.” You were jealous and if Steve already knew there was really no point in hiding it. It was written all over you, the longing look you were giving Bucky all night, desperately wanting to be the one he wanted.

“She’s not perfect, nobody is. Just better at hiding her faults than everybody else.” He said it like it was some known fact. Something you should’ve already known, but insecurities tended to eat you alive. Truthfully, it didn’t help that Bucky acted like Natasha walked on water in his hopeful, gleaming eyes. Stinging you like a bee piercing your soft, plush skin for the first time.

He really loved her. It didn’t matter how many times she messed up, what he felt was all the same — she was the one.

“Really? I don’t buy it. Name one.” Steve perched himself on his knees in front of you, his hands on the armrest of the chair you made yourself comfortable in. “Okay.”

“How about the fact that she loves Bucky just about more than anyone else but she’s too selfish to let him go? Then, for months she leads him on and promises she’ll come home but always leaves him heartbroken.” Steve let it flow all in one breath, as his body rested between your legs.

“Sounds gruesome.” You confessed because it hit a little close to home. “Yeah, it is and he has no right to do the same thing to an angel like you.”

You hated how he was right, truly hated it, but anyone with eyes could see how much Bucky dragged you through the mud. He had a good heart, but it just hadn’t been good to you.

Bucky’s intentions weren’t malicious and it didn’t seem like he was either but it didn’t take away from how much he continued to hurt you. All of the unintended consequences only affected you as he went on with his day.

Over and over, he continued to cause you pain and he didn’t even know it. Or he did and just neglected to acknowledge it. If he did, he’d actually have to deal with just how much he was actually hurting you.

It wasn’t like either one was particularly gunning for the latter, but Steve was. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had left you high and dry whenever the red head, beauty stepped foot into town. Although it was the first time you had a front row seat to the attention she commanded from him.

You both sat there in silence for the moment, taking in the starry night as he rested his cheek against your leg. He began running fingertips up and down your exposed calf, letting him soothe you.

“I’ll keep thinking I’ll be alright. That’ll get over him, but he just keeps pulling me back and jerking me around for his ride and I let him.” If anyone saw you besides Steve, you didn’t think you could handle it but you’re comfortable around him.

He’s continuously been there for you everytime Bucky pushed to the side for her. Always so sweet, so tender, comforting you in his warmth. Never once judging you, always taking the time time to just sit and listen to you.

“I don’t think it’s even about him anymore. I’m just chasing this unattainable moment, just so I fill this void in me. Maybe if he loves me I can love me, too.” Mumbling under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Bubba.” You smiled for a second, as his voice dripped in concern. “You don’t need him or what little he can offer. Not when you can love yourself better than anyone else can.” He pulled himself up to his feet, picking you up from the chair until you were surrounded by just him.

“We love you. I love you, so stop listening to those nasty little thoughts, bubs. They’re far from the truth. You are truly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and deserve the absolute world.” With slight pressure from his index, he tilted your chin up, letting your eyes drown in his.

“Don’t expect anything less.” Steve breathed out, before testing the waters. He just held you there, caressing your back as you just sunk in his arms, allowing his warmth to ease your hurt. Just like he’d done so many times before.

Somehow, Steve seemed to know exactly what you need to hear. You didn’t know how he managed to be so wonderful all the time. Maybe you could just stay there forever with him shielding you from every single evil in the world out to get you.

“Can you take me somewhere? This is the last place I want to be.” Steve simply nodded before lacing your hand in his, before making your way back inside.

The moment the two of you stepped foot into the house, it was silent. Everyone looked at the two of you. Steve took notice of the Bucky’s bugged eyes at the joined hands of his two best friends, but knew better than to verbally acknowledge it.

It wasn’t something Steve and you hadn’t done, but never in the prying eyes of Bucky. Thor and Wanda had taken note of it a few times, but never spoke a word about it. Secretly, Wanda hoped it meant something for you, because she could see just how much Steve adored you.

He never spoke a word, so you remained clueless to a feeling he never felt like he had a right to speak on. No matter how strongly he felt, he knew if he confessed, it would do more damage than good.

You had become one of his closest friends in the past few years he’d known you and he wouldn’t jeopardize it for anything. Selfishly, he left you under Bucky’s radar because being your friend was far safer than risking the rejection he was sure would be sent his way.

He knew you were close to cutting Bucky off from your life completely, he just had to wait it out. Natasha being here tonight was the icing on the cake for Steve, because all he had to do was be here for in a way Bucky never could. Not when he was slicing through your heart every time his attention diverted from you to her.

Just because he was stuck in a past love instead of the future and Steve would fully take advantage of it — being there for you in any way you needed.

Regardless of everything, he wanted to — needed to. He couldn’t live with himself if he let you go through the hurt and heartache alone. Not when so many times you had seeked the comfort of him to lean on. Steve would never be one to say no to you.

“Are you leaving, doll?” The endearment Bucky intended to be sweet but left a sour taste in your mouth. More than that, you didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at the use of his pet name for you. The one she thought was only reserved for her.

Maybe if he held affection for you like he did earlier today, your heart would be filled to the brim, but he didn't. So, you weren’t. “Yeah, Steve’s going to take me home. I have an early morning tomorrow and I’ve already had a bit too much wine.” Bucky didn’t argue, nodding with a tight lipped smile.

Perhaps his indifference is what made you hurt even more. He didn’t care about anything, not even you with you so closely tangled with Steve. It didn’t have an effect on him because the woman sitting by his side, draped over him held more value than you ever could.

“You sure? I can make sure you get home safely.” Bucky pleaded, but before you could respond Steve did.

“I got it, Buck. I’ll make sure she gets home.” He looked like he wanted to say more but he decided to stay silent as he watched you walk out the door with Steve, hand and hand.

The drive home in the Uber was silent, Steve didn’t say a word, just the weight of his arm holding you close. He took note of how you refused to look at anything but the luminescence of the New York’s city lights captivating your vision.

Even if it hurt Bucky only chose you whenever Natasha wasn’t around you couldn’t help but focus on how hot and heated your body felt with Steve so close to you. Holding you so tightly like he was afraid you would let go.

Perhaps it was a bit shady of you to drape yourself over his childhood best friend whenever he rejected you, but now you were finding yourself finding solace in Steve in everything, like you used to with Bucky. He had become this safe place for you, where you wouldn’t be shamed for how you felt or what you were going through.

Even if he knew how much you were hurting from your own obliviousness to Bucky’s behavior, he always let you find solace in his strong, comforting arms. Always sturdy enough to hold the weight of your hurt and what he was carrying too. Just like tonight.

“He’s never going to love me the way I want him to — like the way he loves her.” It wasn’t a question any longer, it was a stone cold fact. Something you’d tried to ignore over the past year, especially.

Not wanting anything in this moment but him, you laid your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat giving you a sense of peace in the aftermath of your heartbreak. The crisp material of the white button up he was wearing shifted from the weight of you, he didn’t really mind.

“I think it’s time for me to let go of this image I have of him, one he can never live up to and accept him for who he is and where he’s at right now.” Steve nodded, still not saying a word, slipping farther and farther away from you as he let his thoughts consume him entirely.

It’d been happening a lot more lately. This. The close, excruciating intimacy between Steve and the woman he was in love with.

Over the past few months, anytime you were upset about something, you would show up at his doorsteps crashing into him as you wept. Always wanting to be close to him, snuggled up to his side, bleeding your heart out to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone.

Not even Bucky.

Then there was the one kiss on New Years’ Eve a few weeks ago which stayed imprinted on the forefront of his mind. He remembered when he woke up the following morning, he was holding you to his chest, the both of you bodies laced with one another.

He got up before you were there to consciously witness it, but it was all he thought about weeks after. Being that close awoke the need to be near you. It was already there, but now he knew how it felt to hold you in the comfort of his own bed.

It nearly killed him when you woke up, making your way down the stairs from his bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers and the shirt he wore last night. Steve wasn’t drunk enough to completely forget the whole night, nothing had happened in his room last night. Seeing you, in here, in his apartment, made him think what his life could possibly be like with you here.

If he was ever to be so lucky.

As of yesterday, when you told him Bucky finally wanted to move forward with you, it broke him. Even if he kept his true feelings hidden, he felt you crush his heart with one fatale squeeze. Any particular hope he once had, was diminished into a fantasy far from reality.

The both of you were Steve’s best friends — he had to be happy for you.

Then, Natasha came to town. Storming through Bucky’s heart just like she’s always done. When Steve invited you to the dinner his best friend was trying to keep you from, he knew it could possibly be the last fatale blow to whatever string your relationship with Buck was. Maybe his, too.

Steve knew going after you could mean losing his really good friend, but he simply couldn’t stop himself. Not when you were a pure goddess ascending from above in all of your glory, capturing his heart in every single glance you threw his way. At this point, he didn’t care what it’d cost him.

As long as he had you, it would be worth it.

When the car pulled up to your street, you let your hand glide down his chest, resting on his lower abdomen. Not missing the way his body trembled under your touch, the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to protect him from you — not that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

As soon as those sinful words left your mouth, he knew he was done for.

Perhaps, if the both of you hadn’t been tipsy of the bottle of wine you shared, you wouldn’t feel the urge to invite him up, but he smelled too good and acted too perfect for any other consideration.

“Do you want to come inside, Stevie?” You purred watching the gears switch in his mind. Contemplating if he really should go through with it. Now that it was within his reach, he was becoming hesitant to grab it. You were drunk, he was drunk. Hence the uber and the both of your cars left behind in Tony and Pepper’s driveway.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to go up there, bubs.” Instantly, you pouted. A deep frown etched on your beautiful face. “Why not? I think it would be a wonderful thing. Don’t you?” With one swift movement, you were cupping his crotch, making your intentions more than clear.

The grunt leaving Steve’s mouth was animalistic as he tried to exercise the very little restraint he was holding onto. It seemed to become increasingly difficult as you refused to move your hand away.

“I need you to take care of me and I’ll take care of you.” Finally releasing your grip on him, you exited out of the car and you didn’t have to look back to know he was falling you into the lobby of your apartment building.

After a silent elevator ride, with you tucked into his side you made the walk down the narrow hallway into your home, fidgeting to open the door with Steve’s hands caressing your sides. Carefully watching as you kicked off the painful heels, the bottom of your feet thankful, pulling you deeper into the apartment.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You retreated, afraid someone else might turn you down, too. If Steve did, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s been your person you can count on and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

Stopping your movement once you reached your bedroom, you were still waiting for his response. Meticulously, he reached for hand before twirling you around your back pressed against his front. Sighing, when his hand dragged up your spine, while the other hung on your waist with his hand pressed against your stomach.

Pushing the thin strap of your velvet dress, letting it fall off your shoulder. Soft, firm lips touching your soft skin, you couldn’t help but lean back into him. Tilting your head back, offering yourself up to him on a silver platter.

His touch felt like heaven and you didn’t think you’d ever want him to leave. Not when you always felt safe wrapped up in his large muscular arms. Never making you question if you felt wanted.

“Right now, my body wants you as badly as it ever has.” Steve confessed while his lips migrated towards your neck, giving you some much needed attention.

“Does it?” You questioned him, losing any other train of thought as let his other hand push the other strap off your shoulder, the slinky dress falling to floor pooling at your feet.

“It does, sweetheart, but it’ll have to wait.” Already pouting like the brat you were, ready to seduce him right into filling you up, just like you brought him here tonight for.

Dropping down to your level, Steve whispers in your ear, “Because when I fuck you just the way your pussy is aching for it won’t be when you’re drunk, princess.” Throwing gasoline on the fire he created, sharply he bit your earlobe, making you moan.

“I’ve thought about this so much, princess. At first, I thought I would take you from behind, but then I wouldn’t see those begging, doe-eyes itching for a release.” You were trembling for him. His filthy words flooding straight to your slick, crying for him already.

“Maybe you’d want to ride me, huh? Do you want to fuck yourself on my fat cock?” At this point, if it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed if he found out just how wet you were. Your panties are completely ruined because of him.

“I want to ride you so bad, Stevie.” Maliciously, he laughed before giving your clothed pussy a rough slap, causing you to gasp out. Your nails digging themselves into his bicep as you reached for it.

“Well, if you had been a good girl, maybe I’d let you cum on my cock.” You turned around face to face, ready to bruise your knees for him in a heartbeat. In this space and time, you’ve never wanted anyone more.

Harshly, he gripped your chin as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip, dragging it down so it plumped right back up. “Bucky will be here tomorrow morning, if not tonight. I took his precious little play thing home and he’s not gonna like that one bit.”

“He wants to have his cake and eat it, too. If you want to let him, by all means go right ahead. And if you don’t? You know where I live, princess.” Very much in contrast to the last few minutes, he sweetly kissed your cheek and headed out right back the door without so much as a second glance.

Leaving you with a hell of a lot to process.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tagging: @tonystankschild | @andromedasstarship | @tinylumpiaa | @brattycherubwrites | @bval-1 | @kayteewritessteve |

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

[winchesterxxi]

My Favorite Ghost (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Type: Angst

Summary:  What happens when a Resistance fighter gets trapped on Republican grounds and the man in charge of her torture is none other than her ex-husband Poe Dameron, former Leia Organa’s protegée turned First Order Admiral?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Force-sensitive reader, torture, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, swearing, death.

A/N: Poe Dameron angst??? oof

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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The mission couldn’t’ve gone more astray.

It was a simple and easy task for a single person to carry out. Fly below the cruiser, get in, get their coordinates for their next targets and get out. Hand the coordinates over to Holdo, and prevent the StarDestroyer from blazing those planets.

Simple. Until it wasn’t.

It all went astray when a face scanner crossed your path. The blueprints didn’t mention any face scanner on that door. You panicked, trying to get your face to scan and let you in, resorting to fiddling with the wires on the side of the device looking left and right to make sure no one would catch you. Except they did.

4 stormtroopers rounded the corner and, hands full with a small screwdriver and needle-nose pliers, you couldn’t have moved fast enough to reach your blaster before they had pinned you against a wall, face against the cold metal.

Next thing you knew, a dark sac is being put over your head and right after your body is pulled away from the wall, a hard object hits the back of your head and you are knocked out cold.

You don’t know how long it had passed before you regained your senses, eyes struggling to open due to the immense brightness that was aimed at you from a light above.

You scanned around the room as much as your body allowed you to, for you soon enough came to find everything below your neck strapped to a metal platform that stood upright in the middle of the room you were in.

You could spot a few cameras pointed at you, and you could also hear steps and muffled voices outside as well as a distant and low rumble of the ship’s engines – you should be close to the cockpit. Most torture rooms tended to be. That way, the commanders and soldiers don’t need to walk far to deliver information obtained from those captured.

The thoughts in your head didn’t have much more time to run wild as the big double doors in front of you opened and gave way to a silhouette to step into the room before they closed again behind them.

For as much as you forced your eyes to read them, it was practically impossible because of the light pointed directly at your face, coming from above. All you could see was the bottom of their uniform – knee-high dark leather boots and black pants, either a general or an admiral, and the clenched fists in shiny leather gloves - as they stood in front of you, hidden from the light.

“Are we getting this over with anytime soon?” you question bitterly while resting your head back and closing your eyes. You’d be damned if you were going to show any fear to anyone within this ship.

“Although I won’t blame you for just standing there, I know I’m pretty pleasant to look at.” Confidence, fake it until you make it. Or until you piss someone off, which is a better description of what you were aiming at.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Your blood runs cold.

Head snapping back down, facing forward, your jaw tightens and your whole body tenses at the reverberation of those words against the metal walls. And that is when the person you dreaded the most to run into again, in your whole life, steps into your sight.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you think your mind is deceiving you.

This isn’t him.

Those eyes do not belong to the face in front of you. They aren’t his eyes. His eyes had a constant sparkle in them with the life that bubbled inside of him; they were big, brown, kind and caring.

These are hard, dark and cold. Lifeless.

“Poe.”

Despite his name leaving your lips in something little above a whisper, you know that name no longer refers to him. Not in the way it was engraved in your mind. Poe was your husband, the lively and witty resistance pilot that Leia Organa had assured you were meant for you. And maybe he was. But this isn’t Poe. This is someone – something else.

“It’s Admiral Dameron.”

You grith your teeth together and have to muster all the strength in you to not let your bottom lip quiver at the coldness and lack of emotion in his voice, so distant from that you were used to in the sweet nothings that would reach your ears in the mornings you’d wake up in his arms.

“What do you want?” you ask him, voice tainted with both pain and disgust.

“I could ask you the same thing. You were the one caught in our ground, trying to break a facial recognition system. What exactly were you looking to get?”

“It was outside the navigation system room. Take a wild guess.” Your anger-powered wit met a halt, as a sharp pain ran through your whole body with great intensity.

A pained screamed was let out of your mouth, muscles tensing and thrusting your body forward against the metal boundaries that enveloped your ankles, thighs, wrists, middle and upper torso.

Once the sting stopped, you threw your body back, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch your breath, as Poe circled where you stood.

“Being a smartass won’t get you anywhere.” He taunts from behind you.

“Because being honest and cooperative will get me a congratulatory snack after this, right?” you weren’t about to give in, and apparently neither was he as another violent ache ran across your body, this time for a few more seconds longer.

“You really don’t listen to people’s warnings, do you?” he snaps his intimidating eyes at you while coming back around to stand in front of you.

“I had a good teacher.” You manage to jeer through gritted teeth. That gets a reaction out of it. One that would be imperceptible to the common person, unless they had been married and in love with them, so much so that they picked up on every little quirk.

“You do realize you’re not getting out of here alive.” It wasn’t even a question, more so of a statement as his lowered head allowed his eyes to look up at you through his lashes, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at the realization, and you have to blink away the tears that threatened to make an appearance.

“You would do that? Kill me?”

“It’s protocol. Resistance scum dies, either if they deliver a confession or not.”

“You won’t even say my name, but you’re okay with having your hands being the ones that put an end to my life?” he doesn’t answer, breaking the wall he had put up for a fraction of a second when his eyes wander around, away from yours. “And Resistance scum? Wow, your ego really is something.”

“Shut up.”

“The only scum I see here is the one standing in front of me, who betrayed friends and family to save his own ass”

“I SAID SHUT UP.” His left-hand slams against the metal behind you, just a few inches away from your face and you flinch, eyes closing at the sudden movement, the fleeting possibility that he could hit you crossing your mind.

When you open your eyes you see his face just inches away from yours, heavy breathing fanning against your face, his hand still rested next to you.

Your eyes are distant, looking somewhere above his other shoulder as you shift your right hand, as much as the restraints allowed, palm facing upward and fingers spread. Between your faces surges a ring, attached to a silver chain that surrounded your neck.

You bite the inside of your cheek and a single tear spills out of your right eye, his attention remaining on the object floating in front of him.

That is his mother’s wedding ring, or rather, it was, until the day he gently put it around your neck, the day that was now so far behind in time that, together with the present circumstances almost felt like a fever dream. He had insisted that you both didn’t need wedding rings as the simple act of you wearing his necklace, the one everyone knew was destined to rest against the sternum of whoever he’d end up deciding on spending the rest of his life with, was enough.

And you never took it off. Not after he started to seem more distanced. Not when he’d started to snap at you. Not when the fights started. Not when you started to sleep in separate rooms. Not when he turned on you mid-mission and started to shoot at your X-Wing. Not when, moments after that, he turned his X-Wing around, killing a few other Resistance pilots. And not when he flew away, following the First Order fleet.

You never took it off.

Closing your eyes, you relax your hand and let the ring fall back against your chest and Poe pushes his hand off the metal, taking a few steps back. He looked… ill at ease.

“What happened, Poe?” you whisper, voice begging for an answer, his name sounding on your lips for the second time today, the most it’s had in little over a year. And, surprisingly, he doesn’t correct the way you address him.

“There was never a chance of us winning. We were outnumbered, our technology wasn’t as advanced… It was either surrender or joining them.” Something tightens inside of you at the way he used us and them to reference the Resistance and the First Order. He was referring to himself as Resistance. Probably unconscious. You decide against pointing it out or correcting him.

“And you chose to join them.” You slowly nod “Was it all so meaningless to you that you could just turn your back on us?”

“The Resistance will forever be doomed.” He utters bitterly.

“You wanna talk about forever?” you question, eyes red and glazed with how wet they were, and he stares at you.

“THIS –“ you raise your voice and look down, motioning to the ring resting against your flight suit, before looking back up to meet his gaze “WAS FOREVER.”

Your words and the silence that followed hung between the two of you almost as making the air in the room thicker by the second.

“Do you ever even think about me anymore? Or does your every thought revolve around these people?” tears sting your eyes once more and you take a shaky breath in “Every morning when I wake up I still expect to have my cheek resting against your chest, but there’s only a pillow. When I go to Leia I expect you to be standing next to her, planning some sort of strategy. When I fly in my X-Wing I still expect the commlink to crackle with your voice. When I see BB rolling my way, I still look up in hopes of seeing you walk up behind him. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you with every fibre of my being. But I also love you in equal measure.”

Poe remains immobile, standing a few feet ahead of you, the device that controls the electric shocks tightly fisted in his left hand and he is looking at you, straight ahead. At this point, you are panting with the effort of mustering out all of those words and feelings through the tears and sobs that rattle your whole body.

“Somehow, after all the shit you’ve done, I still love-”

You don’t manage to finish those words, the second time you’d be uttering them in over a year as they die on your lips and are replaced by a glass-shattering scream of pain, as the sharp burst of electricity travels your body once more during a much more excruciatingly long time. All your muscles tense as much as they can and you forget what breathing feels like.

Once Poe’s thumb slides of the control button, your whole body jerks forward, panting, tears falling to the ground beneath your hovering feet, head down. Despite the rational choice being to shut up you need to say this. You know that he is still there, somewhere, below all that darkness that took hold of him. He is still there. And you need to get him out.

“I still lo-“

Poe’s thumb slides over the button once again, inflicting another piercing wave of torture to your already spent body. Something is, indeed, still in him as this time around he can’t bring himself to look at you and at the way the electricity is slowly but surely bringing you closer to a point of no return. And despite the tears blurring your vision, this fact doesn’t go unnoticed.

After he relieves the pressure on the button, your body no longer jolts forward but instead goes limp against the metal board, the back of your head resting against it, mouth starting to taste like blood, which peeks through the corner of your mouth.

“You won’t even look.” You struggle to get the words out, voice coming out raspy and hurting as it passes through your throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least be man enough to look at me when you do it.”

Your whole body is pulsing with aftershocks of pain and you are struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Just when you are about to close your eyes, just to rest them, you told yourself, you hear Poe’s voice for the first time since he told you the Resistance was doomed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” Your brain can’t quite comprehend if by this he means the torture or all the events that you crying about earlier, the ones that led him to join the First Order.

Either way, the answer would be the same.

“Yes.”

Jaw tensing, Poe pushes the button in his fist one more time, watching your body light up with the blue electric jolts that ran your full height up and down, side to side, travelling through each of your limbs eating away at the remaining life in your body. His lips were trembling just the slightest and his eyes, lit with the image in front of him, started to be glazed by tears.

He didn’t let the button go for much longer than he previously had, being completely lost inside his mind and out of it at the realisation that even after all the shit he put you through and the hurt he caused you, you still loved him.

It wasn’t until he stopped seeing you squirm that his finger release the button and your body fell completely limp against the metal, head falling down, the metal loops preventing you from falling forwards completely. He hesitated in stepping closer to you, scared of you moving or rather not, he wasn’t sure.

But his heart gave in to the breaking of itself when the latter possibility turned out to be the truth.

You weren’t moving.

You weren’t breathing.

There was blood dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

You were gone.

And he did it.

A trembling hand of his came up to push your head back against the platform holding you.

That’s when he took a good look at your lifeless face, and a shaky exhale left his lungs.

Oh, how he still loved you.

He wanted to cradle your face in his hands a lay a kiss against your forehead, run his knuckles against your cheek and wipe the blood away from your soft lips.

But they were watching him. The cameras were pointed at him and the microphones were on, preventing him from freely displaying any kind of affection towards you.

Blinking away the tears and trying to keep his body language as much stoic as possible, his gloved hand reaches up for the ring that hung from the chain draped around your neck and he pulled it down, breaking the silver link as it released the hold it had on you.

He slid the ring into the chest pocket of his uniform before walking away, towards the door, and out. Leaving the lifeless body of the only person who could ever allow him redemption behind, limp and broken.

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TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77​ @pedrobreakmyback​

POE DAMERON TAGLIST

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[malereader-inserts]

For the Sake of Family

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Weasley Family x Son/Brother!Reader Summary: A son is missing, god forbid anyone see a wrath of a grieving Weasley Word Count:  1,233 Request:  it's the battle of Hogwarts and during the 1 hour of calm (Fred is severely injured but still alive) they're making sure everyone is there but they realise that 1 person isnt, one of their sons. Nobody has seen him since the beginning of the fight, no one can find him and they're all very worried. Eventually they do but he was injured because he took a spell for someone. Maybe Luna? (I just like the ones where they protect others-) Warning: Blood and Injury

Arthur and Molly held each other momentarily, Percy had returned to them and so far all their children seem to be unharmed, other than Fred who was almost killed. Fred was being attended by one of the nurses, whilst George fusses over his twin and Percy apologising over and over to Fred. Charlie had yet to arrive, as the mother and father of the big family knew where Ron would be, he was always inseparable from his best friends.

Ginny looked lost as Bill had his attention on Fluer. Ginny, despite not suppose to be in the fight, looking dirty from ash and falling dirt, looked at the band of her brothers before shuffling to her parents.

“Mum, where’s (y/n)?”

It seemed like all the siblings had heard the name as they all stopped, turning heads to Ginny and the parents. Molly stops short as she looks at the boys before her, counting, and missing three sons. Charlie - who could be on his way to help the fight. Ron - who was currently with Harry. And, you - missing. The second youngest son was currently not within their sight.

“Where was the last time you saw (Y/n)?” Arthur asked the boys as they all look sheepishly.

“I haven’t seen him,” Percy says, “I don’t think he’s aware that I’m back.”

Bill and Fleur shared a look before looking at Arthur, “Well, I saw him before the fight started, other than that, we haven’t seen him.”

“He ran past Neville and Sprout,” Fred commented, as he looks at his twin, “What about you, George?”

“Saw him with Luna.”

“Right-” Molly huffed, before looking around the hall before her feet taking her somewhere, she seems like she was following her heart rather her mind.

“Where’s mum going?” Ginny asked, she knew where her mum was going but sometimes it is best to address the unspoken.

“I would assume she is looking for (Y/n),” Arthur answering as he sits down - he can’t help but worry as well - it’s one of his boys.

The siblings silently sat down, exchanging glances. They were all concern with the second son being missing. You were the perfect balance of every sibling. The level headed from Bill, almost the voice of reason, but you got Charlie’s impressive quidditch skills but, unfortunately, have the genius knowledge behind jokes and pranks. You take pride in having Percy’s smarts and the driven motion to excel well in class as well as have Ron’s clumsiness, but Ginny’s spite. 

You were balanced, yet so chaotic all at once. You weren’t one to be forgotten, you were a quick-witted reckless idiot, who would calculate the percentage of how injurious he would get if he was to act on a reckless activity. Ginny sits by her dad and leans her head against his shoulder.

“I hope (Y/n) is okay.”

Ginny would never admit if she had a favourite brother, but if anyone would ask her she would always say you. You might be two years older than her, but you were by her side, unlike Ron. You would be the one to talk quidditch to her, and always cheered her on beating the rest of the siblings, she’s capable of standing up for herself, but you were always there to do so and she appreciates it because it’s so tiring to stand her ground. 

You would actually tutor her in things she doesn’t understand, unlike Percy who was too busy with his nose in a book or Ron being average at his subjects. You were the brother she would go to if she wanted to vent or to cry because you know when to joke about and when to give her solid advice. You were such a happy sibling - she would really take it the hardest if you were dead. 

Molly would not rest easy with the fact that one of her sons might be dead. As she leaves the hall, maybe there are fighters still making their way to the hall to receive aid. There were a few students limping, some just doused in the dirt, but there were other fighters pulling out the dead from the debris and rubble of the school. Molly’s heart was racing, fear was bubbling in her stomach. 

“Mum!” 

Molly turned so quickly that hands had caught her before she toppled over. Her eyes see dirty hands covered in blood, her attention quickly diverts to the face of the person who was holding her. 

“(Y/n)!” She exclaimed, releasing the breathe she had not realised she was holding in. 

Her excitement fades as concern rushes within her, one of her babies is injured. She grabs your upper arms as you wince, one of her hands had landed on something thick and sticky, as she lets go, you let out a breath of relief - her hand covered in blood, suddenly you’ve lost your balance.

“Oh, sweetie - what happened?”

To her surprise, Luna comes under your uninjured arm to allow you to find your balance, the sweet girl smiles politely to your mum.

“It’s my fault really, I should have been more aware of my surroundings.”

“Nonsense, Luna,” You hummed, grinning still, “I knew the risk, it’s not your fault at all.” 

You give your mother a tight smile as she realised that your arm was just a minor injury, but your side seems to be bleeding as well as she helps you to walk as well without you fumbling over your feet. Your family sits anxiously at the entrance door but beaming when they see their mum and brother coming through the door. 

Luna dipping out as Ginny takes over to guide you. 

“Oh thank Merlin,” Arthur exclaims as you groan as they gently sit you down.

“When did Perce get here?” You asked almost immediately, “Glad to see isn’t far up his arse to-”

“Don’t be rude to your brother,” Molly scowls as she gets her wand out to heal as best s she could.

“No, it’s okay,” Percy says, “I think I deserve it, (Y/n) has always been the voice of-”

“Sense.” You and Bill responded

“Intelligence?” Fred and George spoke afterwards. 

“Reason, but sense and intelligence make do too.”

“Well, I don’t think your brother was thinking sense of intelligence when he decided to take a spell for Luna,” Molly lightly scowled, keeping her breathing steady as she could hear you breathe heavily and wincing every now and then.

“You idiot!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Bet you’re a hero to her,” George waves the concern over, looking at you with a suggestive look.

“Trying to woo her, (Y/n)?” Fred teases as you sigh at the twins.

“No-” You answered, giving the twins a glare, “If you would like to know the reason, though I don’t see why it would concern you, Luna remind me of Ginny - and if anything happens to our little sister, those twats has more coming from us than Voldemort himself.”

The family was silent for a moment as Ginny cracks a smile, whilst Arthur chuckles and shakes his head, it’s as almost the tension washes away.

“You’re still an idiot,” Ginny says, but instead there was a light tone to her voice, “You knew were going to live, didn’t you?”

The family looked at you s you smiled charmingly, your eyes glistening, “Of course, I wouldn’t be able to do that to the family.” 

[yesimwriting]

Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted. 

--

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is. 

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable. 

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk. 

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?” 

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.” 

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.” 

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.” 

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.” 

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.” 

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.” 

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?” 

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.” 

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.” 

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.” 

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.” 

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.” 

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.” 

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.” 

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.” 

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.” 

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.” 

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness. 

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.” 

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.” 

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?” 

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.” 

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.” 

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.” 

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands. 

[teddyylou]

FLASHOVER: Klance - teddyylou

Post-mission hurt/comfort klance. Enjoy xx

-

“You really can’t come out of one day without a new purple mark on you, can you?” Lance called behind to Keith, his hand intertwined with his, hastily leading him over to a table in the observatory to tend to his bruises.

They were probably better off in the hospital wing, but everyone was still buzzing from the mission, giving everyone else a look over to make sure each team member was still intact. They liked it better when it was just them. Lance had stocked up a storage compartment by the lounges with some first aid, so that they could look at the stars and just sit with each other, alone, out of the way of anyone else’s gaze. They could process the fact that they’d lived to see each other another day, in peace.

Lance smiled as he helped Keith sit up on the table, eyes bright and tone casual and chipper, pretending that he didn’t tremble as he opened the first aid kit, or that he didn’t almost drop the box of band-aids he picked up.

Keith did the same: He pretended it didn’t hurt his back to sit up, and that he wasn’t completely and utterly exhausted both physically and emotionally. It had been a rough battle, they’d both been scared beyond their wits, but for the moment they could set it aside and purport the idea that everything was fine.

“It’s my body itching to be Galra, what can I say,” Keith shrugged, a giddy smirk on his lips as sarcasm bled into his words. Lance sighed a laugh.

“No, it’s you being impulsive and you can say sorry?” Lance’s tone was still upbeat for the sake of their juvenile ritual, but the seriousness of his words weighed down on Keith’s aching shoulders. Lance really wasn’t alright, even if they both were pretending not to know it.

“We won, no one got hurt,” Keith assured him. Lance raised a brow. Instead of retorting, he jabbed a finger into Keith’s rib, casing an immediate jerk reaction from his boyfriend who slapped his hand away. Lance pressed his lips into a think line pointedly. Keith stared back for a moment.

“No one got badly hurt,” He corrected. He could feel the weight of reality weighing down heavier, but it was easier for the both of them to ignore it for a little while longer. They were both so drained from the fight, it was better to keep up the loving banter, shovelling the dread off to future Keith and Lance. Lance rolled his eyes with a huff, eager to let it go for the moment as well.

Lance sponged a disinfectant wipe over Keith’s cheek before placing a band-aid on his wound, a small cut under his eye. He shook his head to himself, breathing out frustrated words under his breath that he didn’t let Keith hear as he used another part of the wipe to sop up the blood that had dried under Keith’s split lip.

Lance stood back and thought for a second, he tugged his lip to the side as if to shrug saying, ‘can’t put a band-aid on that’. So instead, Lance leaned down, offering a warm smile before pecking Keith’s bottom lip gently. He relaxed his shoulders as he stood. ‘All better’.

Lance placed his palms flat to the table, one either side of Keith’s legs. He looked down for a second, eyes darting back and forth, the previous few hours swimming in his head so impactfully Keith could almost pinpoint what part of the mission he was reliving. “You didn’t have to jet off away from the group though,” Lance told him. His voice was suddenly dull, gently being drowned out by the growing feeling of tension building up in the small space between them. Electrical currents zapped around in the mere foot that separated their faces. It was still a quiet hum, but it was also them. The dull roar was almost at its tipping point, like the muffled speaker of a house party that would become clear if someone just opened the door.

“I knew I would have him if I just pushed red to full speed, I had to take the chance,” Keith explained, his tongue the wistful hand that turned the knob.

“Yeah well, we couldn’t see you,” Lance shouted suddenly, his voice dark and deep as he slammed his hands down on the table where they laid. Keith jumped a little where he sat, not expecting the outburst. They were usually pretty good at keeping their cool until they settled their object permanence. Lance took a breath, closing his eyes in silent agreement. They were not about to fight. “Are you feeling okay?” He asked, voice calmer, quivering slightly, eyes darting to all the bruises he was yet to rub Altean healing cream into.

Keith could feel the tension under his voice like it was lacing his throat, sticking to each word as it passed but not quite willing to bubble over again. It was a really stressful battle when it could have been easy. They hadn’t been prepared. Keith knew how scared Lance got when they weren’t prepared.

They were best as a team when they all knew exactly what they had to do, saving some room for someone, usually Keith, to break line for some improvisation. He could see it in the tight miosis of Lance’s pupils, small with bright piercing blue irises showing like he was shell-shocked. Lance was angry at him. Very angry. And he probably deserved it too. But right now, they both just wanted to be close.

“Yeah, the hand-to-hand left me a little dusty though,” Keith said casually, not wanting to alarm Lance any further, attempting a last-ditch effort to lull the unrest back to sleep.

“Let me see your wrist,” Lance said flatly.

“My wrist is fine.”

“Let me see it…” he repeated sternly. “I told you to keep the brace on for longer.”

Keith hesitated but reluctantly held his hand out to Lance. The brunet took it gently and Keith watched intently as he pressed down on different parts carefully. He was afraid of another flashover. He never used to let people help him, scared to show people that he needed it. But Lance was so kind and understanding. He made things feel less serious than they were. But that spark of trust could ignite a conversation to come alive. The delicate circuits they kept insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounded by the emotional charge of tension. They’d get heated like they always did. They’d fight. Keith didn’t want another chance to lose him.

Lance trailed the pads of his fingers up over Keith’s palms to prod the centre of his wrist joint. Keith flinched, feeling the pain shoot straight up his arm like a jolt of electricity. The sudden movement pulled a hiss from him as his entire forearm was encased in pain. It was silent for a moment

“You just don’t listen, do you?” Lance looked up at him from where his head hung, depleted. There it was, the flashover. He wasn’t yelling anymore but his tone was so cold Keith would have preferred it if he’d gotten heated. He’d rather be screamed at by Lance than have to stare into his eyes as the truth settled in that Keith had lied to him, to everybody.

“I tell you,” Lance pushed himself off the bench to pace on the floor in front of Keith. His hands were clenched tight like he was trying not to punch something. “I tell you every. Single. Time. Keith. Don’t push yourself or you’ll be out of commission and no help to anybody, but you just don’t listen. It’s like my words don’t even matter!” Keith winced, he sounded exasperated.

Keith drops his eyes to his lap. They do. You know they do,” he grumbled, face red hot with shame and trepidation.

“Yeah, right,” Lance muttered as he came to a stop in front of Keith again, catching his wrist before he can pull it away. He took some bandages and began to strap the injured limb. Keith felt the heat in his face subside a little. Even when furious, Lance still took care of him, still showed him he loved him.

“Listen… You have to take better care of yourself. If not for you, then for the team. For me. So I know that you aren’t going to get hurt, the kind of hurt we can’t just fix.” Lance went on as he wrapped another layer of bandage, pulling it securely tight. “Look, I know you’re reckless, that’s you and I have learned to love you for it. You like to have a stab,” he even laughed a little. “But being reckless is about not knowing if you can do something and trying it. That’s basically how we run in Voltron. But when you know you can’t do something then doing it anyway isn’t reckless, it’s stupid. You are human Keith, even if it’s only half. You have limits and it’s okay to not be able to do everything. You have to stop this silly one-man team bullshit. You could hurt yourself and get in some sort of trouble that I can’t pull you out of.”

Lance took a deep breath, finishing his work. “I can’t lose you, Keith.” And the fighting was done, the banter was done. The pretending was over as Keith pulled Lance into a desperate kiss, afraid to ever let him go again.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered against his boyfriend’s lips. They ended up on the floor against the table, sitting side by side to look at the stars and revel in the aftersome of the war. How they ended up loving each other so much.

Keith was astonished to think of the bizarre sequence of accidents that brought them to that moment—as if he’d spent years bouncing down a Plinko pegboard, passing through a million harmless decisions, any one of which might’ve changed everything. It made that moment feel so impossible.

“You know, it’s 5 pm home in Texas, all the cadets would be heading down to the mess hall, classes and training done for the day. Life was so easy when you didn’t have to think about it,” he said, almost in disbelief that he’d ever been one of those cadets in this lifetime.

“It’s 4 pm in Havana,” Lance replied.

“Hmm,” Keith hummed, “happy hour.” Lance snorted at that, shrugging as he opened another storage compartment in the table. He pulled out two beers, handing one ice-cold brew to Keith before uncapping his own.

“Always past noon somewhere.”

[agoldengalaxy]

Paradox

read on Ao3

Croki sniffed the faded horns, whimpering softly. And Kid Loki exhaled shakily, sitting down fully in the dirt, holding the horns in his lap. One hand stayed atop them, the other coming to rest on Croki’s head. “He isn’t coming back,” he murmured bitterly, staring up at the remains of Alioth, swallowing the lump in his throat. “He’s gone.”

or, Kid Loki deals with the aftermath of episode 5.

--

The old Loki never returned. Despite the old man’s blatant fear of Alioth, refusing to get anywhere near it for the few years they lived in the Void, the monster was what had got him in the end. He had found his ‘glorious purpose’...and he’d left Kid Loki alone.

Footsteps crunched the dead, dried grass below as Kid Loki stared ahead. Croki bumbled along beside him, sniffing the air. Some rubble was still left behind from the fight, but the giant structures that the old man had created were in ruin, just like the real Asgard. It hurt to look at. To know the older Loki would never return, and neither would many of the other Lokis.

He turned his gaze toward where the beast had once resided, its purple now reduced to a dazzling green and parted to the side, billowing quietly, almost as if it were asleep. Or dead, he thought bitterly, wishing it had been so. The older version of himself and Sylvie both had ventured beyond Alioth. Perhaps they would be returning soon with answers…or perhaps not. Whoever was in charge of the TVA would no doubt be a tough adversary. Despite himself, he hoped that they would get through this okay.

His foot kicked something, and he stopped to look down at it. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, it was a pair of old horns. Some of the gold was chipping, and it was covered in a thin layer of dirt, but he recognized them. Each Loki’s horns looked different, and he’d seen these almost every day for a long time. Slowly, he crouched beside them, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes and the lump in his throat. He took them gently in both hands, swiping his thumb across the middle to wipe some dirt away.

“That old fool,” he whispered, staring at his own reflection in the gold. The breeze whipped at his hair, and he hated how broken he looked. He almost looked just like a regular child, but he wasn’t a regular child, not by a long shot. Regular children didn’t accidentally kill their brothers. Regular children didn’t have to depend solely on themselves for survival.

Although, he supposed he hadn’t really been on his own since he came to the Void. Not really. The old man had respected him from the beginning. They had come to some sort of understanding: Lokis didn’t trust, but they could get some mutual benefit by working together to survive, so they did. But somewhere along the way, the boy had begun to think of the old man as a friend. He figured he was the one sane Loki left (that wasn’t a crocodile). He was his only friend, and now he was gone.

Croki sniffed the horns, whimpering softly. And Loki exhaled shakily, sitting down fully in the dirt, holding the horns in his lap. One hand stayed atop them, the other coming to rest on Croki’s head. “He isn’t coming back,” he murmured bitterly, staring up at the remains of Alioth, swallowing the lump in his throat. “He’s gone.”

Lokis were always meant to end up alone. He knew this. So why did it hurt so bad?

A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it, plopping on one of the gold horns. It slid downward, leaving a clear trail in the residue. He almost scoffed. Perhaps his ‘glorious purpose’ was just to be left behind by everyone else.

Suddenly, a door opened up behind him. Shocked and confused, the boy held the horns closer and picked up the crocodile, scrambling to his feet. If the TVA had come here to pick a fight, he was ready to fight back. Maybe a good old fashioned fight was what he needed to feel better. But when he turned around, he was surprised to find a familiar face.

Agent Mobius stood there, wind whipping at his suit jacket and hair, an exhausted look on his always-kind face, masked with a smile. “Hey there, Loki. You wanna get out of here?”

Originally, he had agreed to stay behind with the older Loki. The Void had become their home, despite it being unsafe, and the old man especially was ready to do what it took to defeat Alioth and make sure the TVA was brought down to its knees. And he’d never admit it, but Kid Loki didn’t quite like the idea of staying here without him. He didn’t want to be on his own again. He was sick of doubting everyone. He didn’t want to have to worry for his life every time he tried to rest. Alioth was down for now, but it wouldn’t be forever. So he tightened his grip on the crocodile and on the horns, and approached Mobius, perhaps a bit warily. He knew the agent had good intentions. He just had to keep his guard up for now.

Mobius gave him another smile and ushered him through the door. He almost expected to emerge in the halls of the TVA again, but instead he found himself on a windy cliffside overlooking an ocean. Behind him was a small but earnest house. Furrowing his brows, he turned to look at the man, who tapped the TemPad to close the portal behind them. “…Where are we?”

“Colorado, 2023. Found this old abandoned house, figured I could spruce it up a bit. Sorry it’s a little cold right now, it’s the middle of fall.”

Loki breathed in some of the fresh air, staring out at the waves that crashed along the rocks. “The cold doesn’t bother me.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned around, eyeing the other, who was watching him with slight curiosity. “And what of the TVA?”

Mobius smiled a little. “Loki and Sylvie found the one behind it all. So, naturally, it’s being burned to the ground.” He clasped his hands together, blowing on them to warm them. “I might need an actual fire out here, though. You wanna come inside?”

The boy considered him for a moment. A mere mortal who cared about Loki variants, and who had no qualms with doing the right thing and admitting when he was wrong. Mobius was a strange man. Perhaps that was why Loki, and all the other variants, liked him so much. He glanced down at the horns in his hand, at the streak his tear had left before. “No. I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I want to see the ocean.”

“Okay, suit yourself. Come on in when you wanna warm up.” He watched Mobius ascend the stairs, the door slamming shut behind him, and he was alone again. Carefully, he turned back to look out at the ocean. The wind here felt different. It was cleaner. It smelled like salt, and there was a distant cry of seagulls. Loki had never been to Midgard, but he figured he could get used to a place like this.

Carefully, he sat down in the long grass, surprised to see it was green and alive. Setting Croki down beside him, the crocodile happily settled in that grass, and Loki stroked his back. “Maybe one day you’ll get out to that ocean,” he said softly, glancing down at the horns in his lap again.

He wasn’t sure what the old man would say now. Would he be happy that he escaped the Void? Would he feel betrayed to have been left behind again? His grip on the horns tightened a little as the tightness in his chest grew. First he’d lost Thor, and now he’d lost the old man. And it just wasn’t fair.

Lifting the horns up to his eye level, he looked at them for a moment, then rested his forehead against them. He’d never been the sentimental type, but it had been a while since he’d allowed himself to love again. And this was why he was better off on his own. When a Loki loved, they also hurt and betrayed. It was the paradox of their being.

Behind him, he heard the door open and slam shut again. He didn’t bother looking and just set the horns back in his lap again. A moment later came the footsteps, and a large knit blanket was draped over his shoulders. With a small grunt, Mobius sat beside him in the grass nursing a mug, though he didn’t sit too close.

Despite himself, the boy pulled the blanket more snugly around his shoulders. He didn’t dare look the other in the eye. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He took a sip from whatever liquid he had, squinting out at the water. “I would have gotten you some, too, but I know my Loki doesn’t really prefer tea. Figured you’d be the same.”

It was then he finally allowed himself to look at the other man and take him in. He had deep shadows under his eyes, and his neat hair rustled a little with the wind. He looked tired. Loki couldn’t help but wonder what ‘burning it to the ground’ really meant, but he decided against asking for the time being. “Yeah.” He let a moment of silence pass, then asked, “Why did you come back for me?”

Mobius met his gaze over the mug, and Loki wondered if he was imagining slight amusement. “The TVA took your life, Loki. I think you deserve another chance at it.”

“What could I possibly do?” he scoffed, holding the horns in his lap closer.

Quietly, Mobius regarded him, his gaze shifting toward the horns. “He decided it was never too late to change. He was a good man -“

“He was a fool!” he shouted, emotion bubbling up in his chest, and to his surprise he couldn’t stop it. “A right idiot for thinking he could…he could take on Alioth…” his voice broke, his vision blurring with tears that welled up in his eyes. “He forced me to stay behind, Mobius. I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

“He did what he thought was right,” came the soft reply. Mobius genuinely looked sorry. “Maybe it was stupid. But he had a need, a drive, to help. Without him, we never would have found out who was behind the TVA.” He scooted a little closer, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He cared about you. That’s why he told you to stay where it was safe.”

Tears began rolling down his cheeks, but for some reason he didn’t mind crying in front of Mobius. His lip quivered. “I miss him, Mobius.” He was disgusted by how quiet and broken his own voice sounded, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

“I know.” The hand on his shoulder moved to his opposite shoulder, pulling him closer. Loki leaned against Mobius, a strong arm around his shoulders, the faint smell of cologne entering his nose, oddly comforting. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress the sobs with little success.

They sat like this for a long time. Mobius didn’t tease him once; he just held him and let him cry. And for the first time in a while, Kid Loki thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone in this world.

[clonemando]

Boba almost laughed at the absolute horror on the faces of everyone around them. Not that he blamed them. Just one Mandalorian was a sign of trouble coming, but three? Fully decked out in gear? It was practically a battalion. Plus the three of them were actually looking for trouble this time. 

“This way.” Paz lead the group around some buildings and down into another complex like the covert they had left a few days before. The main difference was that this one was completely silent. All three of them turned on their heat detection and pulled out their weapons. 

Paz had explained his mission on the ship. There had been a covert on Tatooine that had gone radio silent and everyone feared for the worst. He was being sent to check things out and bring back any living members that might be there or any supplies that might have managed to stay hidden from looters. If nothing had gone wrong he was to see why their messages hadn’t been returned. Boba had pointed out that seemed to be a lot for one man if there had been empire activity and Din and Paz explained that the covert just couldn’t risk that many people. If Paz didn’t make contact with the covert by the date and time he was assigned with news then they would take that of confirmation of their fears. It infuriated Boba they had to live that way but he understood. 

“There’s no way anyone is still here... It’s ice-cold and quiet. The forge has to be dead. Something happened.” Din’s whisper sounded way too loud but Paz nodded his agreement as they finally made it into the main rooms. They split up checking each bedroom, nook, and cranny for any sign of what happened to the people who had lived there. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when it was Din who ended up walking back out of a room with a little boy in his arms. He and Paz walked back over slowly so as not to scare the child. 

“This is Jamie, he said that their Alor had been lying about food rations and selling beskar off for personal profits and when the others found out there was a big fight. The Alor killed many and got away, the rest grabbed their own families and ran off to find safety in case the Alor sent back mercenaries to finish the job.” Din explained as the kid hid his face in Din’s shoulder. 

“He lost his buy’ce when he was hiding, he thinks it was stolen to get melted down and sold. He’s still young, we’ll bring him to the armorer and she can make him a new one.” Din said confidently. Boba hummed. 

“Is that what he wants?” He asked and the other two looked at him confused but he sighed. 

“He was betrayed and left here for dead, he might not want to be returned to another compound just like this with a bunch of people he doesn’t know who might just do the same thing.” Boba held up his hand feeling the outrage about to bubble over from the pair.  

“I’m not saying it will, I’m saying that this child, Jamie, how can he know that? How can he feel safe there? It should be his choice, not yours.” He said before they could interrupt. Paz seemed to accept that more easily than Din. 

“He’s right Din’ika. It is our job to take the child to where he will be safe and cared for so he can heal and grow. That might not be with our people. This is the way.” He said firmly and Din relaxed. 

“This is the way.” He echoed and pulled Jamie back from his shoulder and Boba took off his helmet making Jamie’s eyes widen. 

“I am not from a covert. My name is Boba. We’re going to take you somewhere safe. We can take you to another place like this one and get you a new buy’ce and find you a new family, or I can take you to my palace and we’ll call up some people to find you a new family who aren’t part of the creed. We want to do what will make you feel safest. It’s up to you, okay?” He offered and the kid bit his lip nodding. “You can think about it while we bring what’s left here back to my ship.” He said gently and gave him a little smile. Jamie nodded again and tucked his face back into the space between Din’s pauldron and neck. 

Boba put the helmet back on and Paz patted his shoulder. Din headed back to the ship with Jamie leaving the two of them to finish up looking around. They collected the armor they could onto a sled along with packing up a few crates of supplies that could help the other clan and covered the whole thing with a tarp to bring back with them to the ship. 

“Do you think he’d really be too traumatized by this to want to be with our people?” Paz asked as they started back through the tunnels. 

“No, I think he’ll want to stay. But having a choice is important. I got sent to a home once. After my dad died I got arrested so many times, at one point they decided I’d just break out again and it might be better if I was rehabilitated. They sent me to a family on Mandalore since technically that was the closest culture I had.” Boba snorted shaking his head. 

“I’m guessing it didn’t work out,” Paz said and Boba laughed bitterly. 

“Understatement. I’m banned from Mandalore. Or was, by those in charge at the time. Not like they’re alive now. Forcing kids where they don’t want to be and don’t feel safe is only asking for trouble. I have connections. I can find the kid a home somewhere else if that’s what he wants. He’s old enough that he knows what will make him feel safe and I’ll leave him with a way to contact me.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. He knew Paz was grinning at him under his bucket. 

“Having the notorious Boba Fett on call makes me feel safer and I’m a full-grown adult. I’m sure the kid will appreciate it.” He chuckled and the rest of their trip was shared in comfortable silence. 

Once they got everything loaded and packed away and Jamie was snuggled on Paz Boba got them back into space and on their way to the covert. 

“If I stay with the Covert… Can I pick who I want to stay with?” The little boy asked seeming to be thinking about it hard and Paz nodded. 

“I’m sure that can be arranged. Din is our Beroya so he won’t be in much. He spends a lot of time with Boba. But, we can let you meet some of the other members if you like?” He offered and Jamie bit his lip. 

“What about you? Can I stay with you?” He asked clearly hopeful. Boba hid his smile at Paz’s little gasp by turning to check some random readings that didn’t actually need reading. 

“Yeah. If you want, then I’d be happy to take care of you.” Paz said brightly and the little boy smiled at him and rested his head against the blue metal covering Paz’s chest. 

“I’m going to go check on Din,” Boba said after a moment, guessing Paz might want some time to talk to the kid without an audience and the ship was on autopilot at the moment anyway. 

By the time they returned to the covert Paz had already sworn the adoption vow to Jamie and the two were debating the best colors for Jamie’s new buy’ce . Boba was surprised when Jamie ran up and hugged his leg, however. 

“Thank you for saving me Ba’vodu Boba!” He said and Boba patted his head awkwardly. 

“Of course. Be safe kid. If Paz gives you any issues you call me or Din and we’ll come around and flush his head in the ‘fresher for you, don’t worry.” He said making Jamie giggle before he ran off to follow Paz into the covert. Din stopped packing boxes back on the sled to look at Boba and he could feel the grin he was getting. 

“Shut up Djarin.” He grumbled and Din laughed. 

“I didn’t say anything.” He countered and Boba shoved him which only lead to Din laughing harder as they loaded up the last of the supplies for the covert and started to head around the back way. Maybe this whole being part of the covert thing wasn’t so bad after all. 

[cyclogenesis]

i have to tell you that the second i saw cal and ash on that mountain getaway a couple weeks ago, i thought about how desperately i would love a sequel to your turks & caicos fic set during that trip. (this is not a request, i promise, i just wanted to tell you bc that is one of my fav fics of all time)

Aw anon!! 🥺 Gosh I hadn't even thought about that when I was in my feelings about the mountain getaway pictures, which is wild because I am just remembering now that I started a fic after the honeymoon comment initially happened (like, very soon after, because @elliebirdthings was at that show and told me about it and we were freaking out haha), before we knew that they went to Turks & Caicos, and I had them taking that trip to a cabin in Maine.

Just for kicks, because this message made me smile and I love you for that, here's the beginning of that fic. It's unfinished obviously (not even any kissing!), but there's some nice stuff in there I think. This fic was going to be titled A whole fucking lifetime of this after the American Pleasure Club album which was a title I should have kept, goddammit. Also randomly in here I have them driving to the cabin while listening to My Bloody Valentine, who Ashton later called out as one of his main influences for Superbloom.

1600 words of unfinished Cashton under the cut! 😘

The day after the last meeting about the promo schedule the dressing room conversation turns, as it does, to plans for the break. It’s a month out, but they’ve to a man developed a fetish for planning their free time carefully as soon as the schedule’s set. Planning things makes Ashton feel like a grown-up. He likes renting cars. Sometimes he scrolls through AirBnB for hours just to see what’s out there.

“I’m going straight back, we got Dodgers tickets,” Michael says.

“I remember when you used to say ‘we’ and it meant you and me,” Calum says. He wiggles a little from where he’s snuggled against Michael on the couch like he wants to get away, but of course Michael doesn’t let him. Ashton thinks he probably wasn’t really trying.

“Aw, you’ll always be my first love,” Michael tells him, squeezing Calum to him more tightly. “You wanna make out just for old times sake?”

“I do not,” says Calum, but he lets Michael give him a big kiss on the forehead, his face squinching up happily.

“I just wanna get away for a bit, no work or social media or anything,” says Ashton, ignoring their tomfoolery. “A little cabin by a lake somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” Luke says. “Where are you and Cal going this time?”

“Maine,” Calum says, at the same time as Ashton says, “Why would you assume we’re going somewhere together?”

A small silence falls over the room.

With dignity, Ashton says, “Calum and I are going to Maine.”

“Just get out in front of it this time,” Michael advises. “Let everyone know it’s another honeymoon. Take control of the narrative.”

“How many times can you go on a honeymoon before you have to acknowledge that you’re married?” Luke asks nobody in particular.

“It’s a bro trip,” Ashton says firmly. “For bros.”

“It’s very bromantic,” Luke says. “It’s okay, I’m not hurt I wasn’t invited. I love going back to LA and jerking off alone.”

“It’s nice that we’ve all got plans,” Calum says. He’s settled peacefully back against Michael, Michael absently petting his hair.

“It’s not a honeymoon,” Ashton insists.

*

Whatever, Ashton called it what he called it, okay? Might as well control the narrative.

Over drinks at the bar after their last show Calum asks, “Where would you want to go on your honeymoon, anyway? Somewhere new?”

Ashton pokes at the ice in his cocktail with his straw. Aren’t they supposed to not be using straws anymore because of the ocean or whatever? Ashton loves the ocean, it’s very important to him. Also this cocktail sucks. “Can I try your drink?” he asks. “I don’t love mine.” Calum has something with ginger in it, and bubbles. Calum slides his obligingly over, and Ashton passes his own over to be fair.

“I like yours better,” Calum says after a sip. “You wanna trade?”

Sometimes Ashton does believe in soulmates. “Yes, thank you.” He takes a long drink. “It would be nice to spend more time in Italy. Not one of the tourist-y parts though, somewhere quiet. Up north, maybe, one of the smaller towns.” He tries to picture what it would be like: olive groves, blue skies, stone churches. An old villa with lemon trees and a view of the hills. He’s so used to traveling with the band or just with Calum that it’s hard to picture anyone else there with him. They’re all as prone as anyone to get swept up with girls to the exclusion of most everything else, but Ashton can’t really imagine a future without seeing Calum all the time, without talking to him every day. Maybe he and Calum could just get married around the same time and they could all go on a honeymoon together.

“Yeah, that’d be pretty nice,” Calum says, looking wistful. Ashton wants to take a picture of him, capture the way a curl rests against his temple, how the blue neon lights behind the bar hit the glitter he let Ashton smear on his cheekbones before the show. They made a no social media pledge for this trip but Ashton’s bringing his camera anyway. He has to keep in practice, doesn’t he? Anyway, it’s important to capture these memories.

“Maybe we should just go,” Ashton tells him. “Why not? Who knows how long it could take for me to fool someone into living with this forever?” He sucks down the last of his drink, feeling sorry for himself now. What if he falls in love and she moves in and Calum stops coming over in the morning to walk to their favorite coffee shop together, and stops picking Ashton up so they can go hike Runyon, and stops bringing Duke over like he owns the damn place and doesn’t care about the dog hair that Ashton has to hoover off his couch pillows? That would be terrible. Worst of all, what if it was Ashton that suddenly wanted those things to stop?

“I’ll live with you forever,” Calum says, too busy flagging down the bartender to intuit Ashton’s emotional crisis. He gestures to Ashton’s empty drink. “Another one of those, right?” His own is still half full. Maybe he didn’t really like Ashton’s better after all.

“Yeah, thanks man,” Ashton sighs.

Calum bumps his knee against Ashton’s, the barstool squeaking beneath him. “Ash, you’re gonna find somebody if that’s what you want. Anyone would be the luckiest person alive to be with you. Maybe we could do Italy after the tour wraps, we’ll finish in Spain so it won’t be far.”

The thought cheers Ashton a bit; that’s a decent amount of time to get on AirBnB and see what he can find that’s available. It’ll be nice to have something to look forward to, Italian sunshine and limoncello and the quiet.

“Mike and Luke will definitely give us shit though about planning another honeymoon while we’re still on this one,” Calum says.

“Let ‘em,” says Ashton.

*

It’s not a long flight but it’s a bit of a drive from there to get to the cabin. But Calum said he wanted something remote and quiet, so it’s worth the wait, the drive in the dark. There’s moonlight, anyway, and Calum took the wheel, getting them the rest of the way there in their little silver Prius rental. He puts on My Bloody Valentine and sings along, low and comforting to listen to after so many days straight of playing, of promo. Halfway through the trip Ashton thinks he sees a shooting star, maybe thought he dreamed it until he felt Calum’s soft nudge of knuckles against his arm, heard his quiet, “You see that, bro?”

The way gets bumpy, thick with trees, dark and hard to navigate once they turn off the main road. At the end of it all there’s the cabin, looming in the dark, lights left on for them and the key exactly where it’s supposed to be. It’s past one a.m. but they still give the place a wander, stopping at the largest bedroom facing the lake. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows Ashton sees trees, darkness, the black glitter of water under starlight. Calum asks, “You want this one?”

Ashton looks further and just sees more darkness. “It’s kind of unnerving at night,” he says. “Anyone could be out there.” The other bedroom has smaller windows, but the point stands. “Do you wanna just watch TV or something in here and then decide?”

“If we get axe murdered here I hope our ghosts come back and leave a one star review,” Calum says, but he’s already shrugging his duffel off his shoulders and kicking off his shoes.

The host left them a bottle of pinot grigio so Ashton pours up a few glasses while Calum strips down to his boxers and gets in bed. The boxers have cartoon pugs all over them. “I can’t believe that’s the lingerie you’re wearing for our honeymoon,” Ashton says, handing him a glass. “I also can’t believe those boxers even exist.”

Calum raises it to him in a salute and takes a sip. “These boxers are fantastic, but I guess if you want me to take them off…” he trails off, eyebrow raised, thumb hooked in the waistband pushing them down past his hipbone, then further until Ashton can see the crease of his thigh.

“No, no,” Ashton says hurriedly, “I’m just saying, what’s wrong with a nice pair of footie pajamas? Keeps you warm. Keeps you modest.” Nevertheless he shucks his own clothes except for his own (very grown-up, perfectly normal, in a flattering shade of dark green) boxers and joins Calum in bed. Calum’s already stopped paying attention to him, too busy trying to figure out how to work the remote. He finally gets the screen to flash on, and Ashton stays quiet, sipping his wine while Calum flips channels, finally landing on something in black and white. Cary Grant comes on screen but Ashton still isn’t sure what movie it is; Calum seems interested enough, setting the remote down between them, so he doesn’t complain. The wine goes down easy and Ashton does too after not too long.

He rolls onto his side and sees that Calum’s eyes are already closed. It doesn’t look like he’s asleep yet; it always takes him a bit, leaving him in a dozy stage for about ten minutes during which he might respond crankily to any communication or with adorable mumbling affection. Ashton turns the sound down and says, as quietly as he can, “TV off?” Calum’s eyes don’t open, but he nods a little. “Okay. You want me to go sleep in the other room?”

Calum moves then, a sleepy shift of his body, fumbling a hand up and blindly patting the sheet until he makes contact with Ashton’s hand on the remote and squeezes it, links their fingers together like he can’t quite figure out how to make it work. It feels nice. “’S’okay,” he murmurs. “Stay here.”

Ashton didn’t feel like getting up anyway.

[jaxsteamblog]

Ice Queen

Click here to read the full fic on AO3!

After the borders were tacked down, and things returned slowly back to normal, the mundane aspects of life started to bubble back up. Thuy was off with her group, still working on the brand new world that opened in seemingly random points around the world. The Earth Empire was restructuring, a delightful task full of awkward meetings and forgotten names on Katara’s end, and so they were all expecting new ambassadors.

Zuko had to return to the palace for that. They had discussed for days what to do about Izumi, wondering what the best course of action was. Katara decided to meet her appointment in the new central palace in Republic City, figuring that Izumi could more easily spend time with her father should the need arise.

Not that they could figure out what was going on with their five-year-old since the news broke.

“Auntie!” Kya bellowed as she ran through the wide entry hall. Her small voice bounced off the cool marble and echoed in the empty space. Sokka and Suki followed; Sokka’s arm was thrown nervously over Suki’s shoulders.

“Hello dear one.” Katara murmured as Kya ran into her, putting her small arms around Katara’s hips. Her niece was the spitting image of Sokka, with only the faint reddish hue in her hair linking her to Suki. It made her heart ache sometimes, seeing the South Pole face and saying her mother’s name.

It was in these moments that she was relieved Kya had been born first, securing Sokka’s claim to the name.

“Can we practice now?” Kya asked excitedly.

“Don’t you want to see Izumi?” Katara asked curiously, too quick to think.

Kya’s face smoothed and she stepped back.

“Oh. Right. Sure.” She said and darted past Katara into the palace.

“She’s been really excited about this trip.” Suki said, looking after her daughter’s retreating form.

“Should we really be doing all this formal stuff so soon?” Sokka interjected and Suki sighed heavily.

“She’s a Waterbender. Everyone knows it and they’re asking questions.” Katara answered.

“I seem to recall someone being extremely pissed off about forced expectations and public announcements.” Sokka countered.

Katara gave him a stern look but he didn’t budge.

“I’m not taking her away or anything. She’ll just have to come for training sometimes, which of course means you both will be staying.” Katara glanced over at Suki, who smiled. “And if she chooses not to be my heir later on, then we figure something else out. It’s up to her.”

“How is Izumi taking it?” Suki asked.

Katara looked back over her shoulder, as if her daughter would appear.

“Zuko thinks she’s a late bloomer, but I know. I don’t know if that makes things worse or not.” She said and then sighed, turning back. “She’s not really talking about it.”

“And Lu Ten?” Suki inquired.

“He’s definitely a Firebender, but no fire yet. Which is a blessing I think.” Katara shook her head and shrugged.

“We’re doing the best we can.” She added.

“You think this would be easy, since we saved the world twice.” Sokka muttered.

“It is what it is.” Katara said, waving her hand in an attempt to dispel the lingering mood. “I’ve got some tea waiting.”

Kya, having forgotten her earlier disappointment, ran screaming through the halls with Izumi, two Swamp Tribe children, and a North Pole boy. Katara kept her amusement to herself as she watched the flinching security guards as something crashed in their earpieces. With the carnage, she assumed the younger brother of the Swamp Tribe matriarch was babysitting this time.

“So I assume I’m keeping my appointment?” Sokka asked as he plucked a red bean bun from the platter. Now deeply in their thirties, Katara had hoped he would stop eating like a child but half of the bun was shoved unceremoniously into his mouth.

“Nepotism at its finest.” Katara said as an answer. “No one else really wanted to go, seeing how Zuko spends most of his time here and the Prime Minister is kind of…”

“Dull.” Suki finished for her and Katara pointed back at her.

“I really liked that other guy.” Sokka said, taking a drink from his mug.

“Sato? Very nice man. His son Hiroshi always played so well with Izumi. Maybe next time.” Katara said and sat back. The banality relaxed her, and she wished her work would go no further than this. “I’ve finalized my schedule with Dong-Lee and dad, and nothing has really changed.” Katara continued.

“Still ignoring him?” Sokka asked.

“I’m not ignoring him.” Katara snapped. “I just think he needs to spend a little more time at the South Pole. With the people he actually represents.”

“Malina really isn't all that bad.” Sokka said and Katara glared at him. He responded by shoving the other half of the bun into his mouth.

“Look, the point is, the Earth Empire has finally selected their ambassador and he’s arriving tomorrow. There’s going to be a big, fancy dinner and I’ll introduce Kya as my heir.” Katara said.

“So where’s dad?” Sokka asked, his mouth still mostly full.

Katara slammed a hand on the table. “This isn’t about dad!”

“He’s on the triumvirate.” Suki said gently.

“And I am the head.” Katara retorted. Shaking her head, she deflated. “He’s flying up this evening. I figured he would’ve told you.”

“We haven’t caught up in a bit. Did you see what’s happening in the news right now?” Sokka replied and Katara snorted. For weeks there had been almost nothing talked about that wasn’t related to the spirits.

A knock at the door made them all turn.

“Come in.” Katara called. The door opened and a guard poked her head in.

“Excuse me, your Majesty, but Prince Lu Ten has woken up from his nap.” She said.

Sokka jumped up, shoving the back of Suki’s chair as he moved.

“Hey!” Suki exclaimed with a laugh. “You can’t monopolize all of the baby time!”

“Those freaky twins aren’t here, so I’m taking what I can get.” Sokka yelled back, sliding past the flustered guard to run into the hall.

After everyone was unpacked, and had a proper lunch, Sokka and Suki took Izumi and Lu Ten out into the gardens for a walk. Katara and Kya then made their way down to the practice grounds. The talk of her dad and growing stress of the next few days weighed on Katara and she hoped that this moment with her niece would cheer her.

The sun was shining, and it was a crisp day that she cherished in the early spring. The sea was a few miles away from the palace, but the building was situated atop a bending made hill so Katara could see ripples of blue-gray between the skyscrapers. A particularly strong breeze would occasionally bring the scent of salt water to her doorstep.

Kya held Katara’s hand as they walked over the small footbridge to the flat square. The training ground was covered in soft gravel and bordered by channels of water. It was a place they could all practice together, though more recently it was used to smooth out Toph’s plans for her new sport.

“Auntie?” Kya asked as they walked onto the gravel.

“Yes dear?”

“Is Uncle going to teach Izumi firebending?”

Anxiety plucked at a tendon in the back of Katara’s neck.

“Izumi isn’t a Firebender, sweetie.”

“Uncle says you don’t know yet.”

“Well…” Katara drifted, letting go of Kya’s hand and looking off into the empty air. “Your uncle didn’t have a strong spark at Izumi’s age, but he still had one. Izumi doesn’t, and that’s okay.”

“But how do you know? Is it because you’re a Waterbender?”

“I think so.”

“Will you teach me?”

“In time.”

“Auntie?”

“Yes dear?”

“Who taught you waterbending?”

Katara’s entire neck spasmed and her shoulders shot up to her ears. Muttering nonsense under her breath, she called some of the water from the channels and smoothed out the knots in her muscles.

Kya, her mother, had been there when Katara found her first instructor. It was Kya’s blood that Katara used in her final test with Hama.

“An elder taught me.” Katara said, using a truth to blur the unsaid horror. “She lives in a village somewhere in the South Pole now.”

It went against everything she had ever been taught to even consider killing Hama. Revenge took more than it gave, and Hama was not only an elder, but the only other South Pole Waterbender alive. She had returned Hama to the South Pole under heavy guard and with charms a Kyoshi Warrior had picked up from a guru in the Earth Kingdom. Hama had promised no further violence, being overcome with the promise of going home. She did not return to her village, to Katara’s village, but she was taken back home.

Kya had been buried at the prison, with hopes that she would be returned as well.

They were still waiting.

“Auntie?” Kya asked cautiously.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Katara said brightly. “Did you say something?”

“Were you thinking about the war?” Kya asked and Katara flinched.

“Why do you say that?” She questioned.

“Papa looks like that too sometimes.” Kya answered.

“I’m fine sweetie.” Katara forced a smile and juggled three balls made of water. “Ready to practice?”

They practiced for a couple of hours before Kya inevitably got tired and asked to get a drink. By then, Sokka and Suki returned and Katara had to finish business of her own. Dong-Lee, the Swamp Tribe matriarch, was waiting for her with a dense looking folder.

The afternoon wound down that way, with Sokka making a call to Zuko about their next meeting. Suki took charge of all the children currently in the palace, telling stories and generally keeping the chaos relegated to one room. By dinner, most of them had calmed. Just in time for Hakoda to arrive.

Although completely expected, Katara still grumbled as Malina stepped into the main hall.

“Gran-Gran!” Kya and Izumi both yelled and Malina knelt down to hug them both.

“You’re going to pull something Tara.” Sokka said, keeping his voice low, and patting her upper back firmly.

“Shut up.” Katara grumbled, idly twisting the anchor bead of one hair loop.

“Oh look-” Sokka started just as Katara registered the third figure coming into view.

“Bato!” Katara said, her voice amplified by surprise.

Bato dropped his shoulder bag and strode forward, his arms open. Katara met him and they embraced each other tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Katara asked as they stepped apart.

“Can I not come pay homage to my queen?” Bato said with feigned shock. Katara laughed and swatted at him.

“If your father insists on sending me all over the frozen blue yonder doing his dirty work, I deserve the perk of visiting the High Queen in her fancy new palace in Republic City.” He explained.

“Good to see you Bato.” Sokka said and the two men hugged with the same type of loving force.

“Young man, fatherhood looks good on you.” Bato said, holding the back of Sokka’s head and pressing their foreheads together.

Sokka smiled, his eyes squeezing shut and a pin prick of water poked out the corner.

“Is Zuko not here?” Hakoda asked from behind them.

“His court is in session to approve the new Earth Empire ambassador.” Sokka said, moving off to the side. He stood between Katara and Malina, but that still put her in Hakoda’s line of sight.

“Daddy is going to bring me a present when he comes back.” Izumi interjected and Hakoda chuckled as he bent down.

“Oh is he now? I guess I better give you my present first!” He huffed as he stood up, swinging Izumi into the air.

“How are you Katara?” Malina asked softly. Katara watched her father carry Izumi, with Kya hopping at his side.

“I’m fine.” She said tersely and started walking. “Dinner is nearly ready.”

“That was ice cold.” Sokka said, jogging up to walk with her. Katara snapped sharply, sending sparks of frost into the air.

“Don’t you forget it.” She retorted.

“It’s okay that she’s not mom.” Sokka said.

“No Sokka, it’s not.” Katara replied, her words clipped short.

Despite their political positions, they took their dinner in the private family room, away from the other tribal members. Even with the separation, politics still dominated the table conversation.

“Who is the Fire Nation sending out?” Bato asked. Katara settled in her chair with Lu Ten wriggling in her lap. He had begun refusing the high chair, but was still too small for a booster. So Katara had to feed him while her own food cooled just out of reach.

“Zuko has made his appointments but the ministers have to approve them as well. I like the lady he sent to Ba Sing Se though, so I don’t see that changing.” She replied.

“Ugh, remember the ambassador last year? What a piece of work.” Sokka grunted, reaching over to cut Kya’s food. She fussed, insisting that she could do it herself, while Izumi smiled demurely with her chopsticks in hand. The mixed menu was always a struggle, and Izumi was leaning more toward Fire Nation fare while Kya was used to the knives and spoons of the South Pole.

“Who is going from us to Ba Sing Se?” Malina asked, of no one in particular.

“I have always wanted to do some proper travelling.” Bato said. “More than just the horrible marching in the war.”

“That might be pushing it.” Katara said. “Dong-Lee’s sister is going to Ba Sing Se, and I’m sending Hahn to Omashu.”

“HAHN?” Sokka cut hard and the knife in his hand went skidding across the plate. With a huff, Kya pulled her plate back and started sawing the meat with her own knife.

“Two ambassadors?” Suki asked.

“Omashu is the largest seat of power in the south, and it makes sense to have people in both places. Kuei won’t let the Fire Nation send more than one though.” Katara said.

“But why Hahn?” Sokka demanded.

“He’s grown up a lot, Sokka.” Katara said, sounding tired. “And no one could accuse me of favoritism since you hate his guts.”

“Fine.” Sokka said forcefully. Suki leaned over and rubbed his upper back.

“Paw-Paw, look what Auntie taught me!” Kya said suddenly. Everyone looked just as Kya levitated the tea from her cup, pushing it high above her head.

“Careful!” Katara warned.

“Mo-om! Kya shouldn’t play with her food!” Izumi said.

“I’m not playing, it’s waterbending.” Kya stated.

“That’s very nice Kya.” Hakoda said carefully. “But let’s make sure not to drop it.”

“I won’t!” Kya fussed.

“Even if I do-” Sokka took a finger and moved it toward Kya. “This?”

Cold tea fell on Kya’s head, causing her to burst into tears and Izumi started pummeling Sokka’s arm.

“Izumi! We don’t hit!” Katara jostled Lu Ten, who was still eating peacefully, as she tried to get up.

“Don’t be mean to Kya!” Izumi yelled while Sokka chuckled. Suki bit her trembling lip as she used her napkin to mop up as much tea as she could.

“That’s enough!” Katara said, keeping one hand on Lu Ten - who was starting to fuss - and using the other to bend away the tea.

“Izumi, go to your room!” Katara said.

“Katara, it’s fine.” Sokka said.

“Don’t tell me how to parent!” She snapped.

Sokka leaned back, holding up his hand.

Izumi, sniffling, stomped out of the room.

“I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Kya murmured.

“You didn’t.” Katara sighed.

“Kat, how about I take Lu Ten so you can eat?” Hakoda, suddenly at her side, asked.

Katara whirled around, grabbing hold of Lu Ten with both hands.

“I certainly don’t need your help.” She said sharply.

Hakoda’s eyes went hard but he didn’t move.

“I raised two children, Katara, I know what I’m doing.” He said.

“When? When mom was still alive and Gran-Gran lived with us? Or after you went off to fight, taking mom with you and leaving us behind? Or was it after mom died and you decided to stay in the North Pole to court a new woman?” Katara shot back. “Because it certainly seems like Gran-Gran raised two more children after you abandoned yours.”

“And where’s your husband then? He’s not here to raise them himself.” Hakoda said darkly.

“Zuko is the Fire Lord! And, if you really want to get technical about it, dad, he’s a five hour flight from here to the middle of the spirits be-damned palace!” Katara shouted. “Now sit down before I decide to make Bato the new chief of the South Pole and kick you out of my home.”

Turning on her heel, Katara shifted Lu Ten onto her hip and walked out the dining room. Ice crunched under her feet, grinding into her soles like diamonds. Goosebumps rippled on Lu Ten’s arms and Katara let out a worried breath as she moved down the hall to the bedrooms.

“I’m sorry baby-boo.” She whispered, kissing Lu Ten’s chubby cheek. “Let’s go call daddy.”

Katara grabbed a phone and went into Izumi’s room, letting her talk to Zuko first. Izumi immediately related what had happened at dinner, telling him all about Katara’s unfairness and tyrannical rule. Then, letting Izumi go back to dinner, Katara stayed in her daughter’s bedroom, letting Lu Ten play on the floor beside her while she talked.

“So what else happened?” Zuko asked.

“I got into a fight with my dad.” Katara answered.

“I know all about that.” Zuko said and she snorted.

“I just don’t get him.” Katara said with a sigh.

“Well of course. You lived with him for the first six of years of your life, while only being conscious of it for two, three years tops. Then he went off to fight when he was younger than you are now. He came back to his children being adults, and one of them bonded to the ocean spirit.” Zuko replied. Katara patted Lu Ten’s diapered backside while she listened. They were nearly done potty training, but it was a busy time and accidents happen. Lu Ten grumbled at the attention, pushing himself up to rummage through Izumi’s things.

“So you’re saying I should just forgive him?” Katara asked.

“I am the last person to ask about forgiving fathers.” Zuko quipped. “But more I’m just trying to break through your stubborn insistence to be mad at him.”

“I want to be mad at him?”

“Yes.”

“Zuko!”

“Katara, you know this. We’ve talked about it in therapy. If you feel like you’re justified in being mad at someone, it means you can get away with being mean to them.” Zuko replied calmly.

“I do have a right to be mad!” Katara countered.

“I agree. But do you think Dr. Matsuzawa would think you’re handling this in a healthy and loving manner?” He questioned.

“Mmmmm.” Katara rolled her discontent in the back of her throat. Lu Ten repeated the noise, bouncing up and down as he did.

“Let’s talk about Izumi.” Zuko said, his tone shifting.

“What do you mean?” Katara asked.

“You don’t normally blow up at the kids.” He clarified.

“Yeah.” The pit of her stomach twisted, shooting sour bile into her throat.

Zuko kept quiet, giving her space to process her words.

“I’m just worried about her.” Katara said.

“Why?”

“Why?” She repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah, why are you worried about her? Has she said anything?” Zuko asked.

“Well, no. Not yet.” Katara admitted.

“Izumi and Kya adore each other. I don’t think she’s jealous.” Zuko said.

“I don’t know.” Katara said.

“Are you jealous?” Zuko questioned gently.

Katara sat up, her stomach wrenching horribly.

“What?” She asked.

Zuko didn’t reply right away, but sighed.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you about this, and now probably isn’t the best time to bring it up.”  He said.

“Well you brought it up!” Katara said sharply.

“Katara.”

“You think I’m jealous that Sokka had a Waterbender and I didn’t?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? You’re weird about Kya.”

“How am I weird about her?”

“You nearly never say her name!” Zuko stated. “Maybe you’re not jealous but maybe you want Izumi to be, so you can have an excuse.”

“How can you say that?” Katara gasped.

“Katara, this isn’t an accusation. I think you’re hurting, a lot. The spirit world thing got us away from it all, but now we’re back. And there’s a little girl named after your mom, needing to learn waterbending, when you don’t really have the best experiences in your own instruction.” Zuko explained carefully. “I went through something similar with my firebending.”

“Zuko…” Katara whispered. Her throat tightened as her nose went numb and started to run.

“I’m coming home.” Zuko said softly.

“No, Zuko, you have things to do.” Katara said.

“I’ve already approved the ambassador, the ministers can handle the next part.” Zuko said dismissively.

“You can’t keep running from the palace. It’s pissing a lot of people off.” Katara said, sniffing and rubbing her weeping eyes with the heel of her hand.

“So what? What are they gonna do, depose me? None of these governors want to go up against me, my father is rattling around in a prison, Azula is quite happy in rehab, and Iroh is convalescent. Unless they want to go on a search for Ursa on their own, they’ve got no one to replace me.” Zuko scoffed. “Plus, Thuy likes me.”

“Having the Avatar in your pocket sure is handy.” Katara murmured.

“Thuy?” Lu Ten chirped, tottling back with his arms full of Izumi’s dolls. He held out one hand, dropping most of the dolls, and reached for the phone.

“Thuy?” He repeated and Katara laughed.

“It’s daddy.” She said.

“Daddy!” Lu Ten said excitedly, dropping all the dolls, and starting to bounce again.

“May I talk to my beloved youngest child?” Zuko asked. Katara laughed again and handed the phone over. Lu Ten took it with both hands, pressing it to the side of his face. A couple of the buttons beeped.

“Daddy coming home?” Lu Ten asked. Pushing herself back to lean against Izumi’s bed, Katara watched as Lu Ten babbled into the phone.

She wasn’t looking forward to their time apart.

With the call done, Katara gave Lu Ten a bath and put him to bed. Assigning a guard to act as a baby monitor, she then went in search of Izumi.

The residential wing of the palace was small compared to the rooms she kept in the North Pole and in the Fire Nation, but it was still much bigger than what she had grown up with. Being back in Republic City, Katara almost wondered if she was expecting her old college dorm. She hadn’t even returned to the campus, though they were certainly bothering her about it, but her mind kept returning to the uniform, beige buildings, relics of the war.

This palace was made with snow white marble, iron colored lumber from the Fire Nation, and miles of Omashu crystal to remind her of ice. The rooms were a mix of styles, some with low furniture and some with the more modern style of ornate desks and heavy pieces meant to be dusted, not moved.

Going through the rooms on the main floor, Katara found them all empty.

Not wanting to try the other bedrooms, she descended into the basement. This was the space Sokka had designed, and sure enough, it was where everyone important was hiding.

Sokka had built a pillow fort in the theater, a trail of popcorn leading to the draped blankets. An animated movie Katara vaguely remembered played on the large screen and she could hear both Izumi and Kya giggling. Deciding to leave them to it, Katara retreated.

With Zuko’s flight still hours away, Katara puttered around. She made more tea, put on a hoodie, and meandered out to the main courtyard to look at the stars. The sky was different here than the North Pole, and neither was at all like the sky in the South Pole.

Pulling her legs up higher on the lounge chair, Katara reached underneath for a folded blanket. She often spent nights out here and the staff was good about leaving cushions and blankets about for her. Folding herself over the arm was difficult with her tea in her other hand and Katara strained to reach.

“Let me.” A man’s voice said and the mug left her grip.

“Thanks.” She muttered, leaning further over and finally grabbing the blanket. As her hand folded over the fabric, the voice registered, and Katara looked down while she spread the blanket over her legs.

“Here you go.” Bato said, handing back her mug. Katara took it, holding it in her lap with both hands wrapped around it.

“Did you come to scold me?” Katara asked.

“You’re a grown woman.” Bato said with a grunt, sitting down in the grass beside her. “I want to make sure you still know your stars.”

Tilting her head back, Katara gazed at the stars.

“I’d rather you scold me.” She groaned.

“Really?”

“No.”

“I’ve already yelled at Hakoda.”

Katara rolled her head to the side to look at Bato, but he was still looking up at the sky himself.

“At dad?” She asked.

“You weren’t totally wrong Katara. He wasn’t around, even if he hated being away from you and Sokka, it doesn’t change the truth. Trying to pretend that he was still a dad is his way of telling you that he didn’t want to leave in the first place.” Bato explained. “But it doesn’t fix anything.”

“But I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Katara admitted.

“Sure, but where do you think you got your temper? It wasn’t your mother.” Bato scoffed.

“I never asked you about her.” Katara said softly, rolling onto her side to look at him better.

“Sokka did, but I wasn’t sure you would.” He replied.

“Will you tell me?” Katara asked.

“Of course.”

~

Banging rattled the thin door frame and Bato jolted upright, still tangled in his blankets and furs. As the banging continued, he clawed his way to freedom and shoved his arms back into the longjohns he was wearing. Moving from his bedroom in the back, he paused for a moment to put his feet into his unlaced boots before heading to the front door.

He yanked the shuttering door open, swearing in the bright summer sun.

“May you and your namesakes drown for a thousand cycles.” Bato growled.

“Oh come on Bato, too much sleep is bad for your health!” Hakoda said briskly.

“Did Kanna kick you out again?” Bato asked. He moved sleepily back to his bedroom, letting Hakoda close the door and follow. Kicking off his shoes, Bato began picking through the pile next to his bed while Hakoda leaned in the open door frame.

“She was up late for a birth.” Hakoda said, avoiding the truth.  Bato found his pants, pulled them on, and then searched for his parka. When he found it, he shook it out sharply.

“Is Kya up yet?” Bato inquired, pulling the parka over his head.

“That’s why I’m getting you. You know her father hates me.” Hakoda said.

Bato straightened his parka and avoided his friend’s gaze.

He couldn’t put into words what his life was like at the time. His parents had died last winter when there was another outbreak of tuberculosis. There were relatives he could have stayed with, or even gone to live with Hakoda and Kanna. Instead he chose to stay in his family’s house. They weren’t adults yet, but life on the ice and a blockade cutting them off from the rest of the world, it wasn’t like there was enough room for a childhood.

Hakoda was trying, and so was Kya. They had grown up together; all of the children in the village had grown up together, but it was different for the three of them. Bato had known they all loved each other, but two summers ago, he found out that Hakoda loved Kya differently, and it made him feel strange.

But it was difficult not to love Kya, in one form or another.

Bato punished Hakoda by forcing him to wait as he got ready. Bato dressed properly, shaved, and put together a meager breakfast. Ever the spoiled one, Hakoda bemoaned the bland food, which got Bato in for whatever Kanna had bubbling away on her stove that day.

Being back at Kanna’s wasted another hour and finally, finally, they were out on their own.

Bato was sent to get Kya and he grinned weakly under her father’s glare. Whatever he had against Hakoda, Bato was sure it was both misunderstood and completely deserved.

“Ah Bato, I wish we were children again.” Kya said, hanging off of his shoulder. “I miss penguin sledding.”

“You know, I think there’s an old canoe out back of my house. My dad and I were supposed to mend it this summer.” Bato said.

“We can’t go fishing in a broken canoe.” Hakoda stated.

“But we might be able to go sledding.” Bato countered.

The sledding worked, but somehow Hakoda decided that what they really ought to do was hitch a polar bear dog to the sled and really get going. Figuring they wouldn’t even get close to a den, Bato agreed.

This resulted in them running full-tilt through the snow away from a pack of polar bear pups with their milk teeth still in.

Wanting to hide their injuries, Hakoda then decided it would be a good idea to sift through Kanna’s unguents while she was sleeping.

That turned into Hakoda and Bato being temporarily blinded and Kya laughing so hard she fell into a slush pit at the coast line.

From there, they all piled into Bato’s bathroom, sectioning off the shower stall for Kya while he and Hakoda squeezed into the tub.

The room was covered in clean, but cracked, white tile squares. Steam filled the space, making their vision foggy even after clearing away the odd unguents.

This was the pair he had done his ice dodging with. All of their parents had been alive and watched proudly as they completed the ritual. Hakoda was the brave, Kya was the wise, and he was the trusted. It felt like their fate had been sealed then, and Bato relaxed into the grip of it. When Hakoda’s father died in a fishing accident, he went right back into the sea to make sure he was taking care of his mother. Kya always knew how to draw Bato out when he was pulling away. It was how they would always be.

“What do you think will happen in the future?” Bato asked, watching the steam curl within itself.

“How far are we talking?” Hakoda asked in reply.

“Ten years.” Bato answered.

“Hopefully this war will be over.” Kya remarked. The sound of the water hitting her skin sounded different than the tile. It was a sound Bato hadn’t heard in his house for many months.

“I hope to have children.” Hakoda said.

“Oh?” Kya intoned, turning off the faucets. She stayed behind her curtain, and Bato heard the splash of water as she wrung out her hair.

Hakoda looked away and Bato chuckled.

“What if the war is still going on?” Bato asked.

“Well, we’ll have to fight in it I suppose.” Kya said dreamily.

“How do you figure?” Hakoda asked sharply, sitting up so quickly the water sloshed over the side.

“If you want to have children, you’re okay raising them in a world like this? Where we can’t even trade up north anymore for fresh food?” Kya asked. “No one’s buying our fish, the Waterbenders have already gone off to fight and none of them have come back, and we don’t even have a local hospital.”

“But there’s so much to lose if we enlist. There’s no guarantee it’ll turn out in our favor.” Hakoda said.

“And here I thought you earned the mark of the brave.” Kya chided.

“So are you not having children until the war is done?” Bato asked.

“I think if I married the right man, I’d have to win a war for my children.” She answered.

Hakoda, sinking back into the tub, sighed happily with a smile.

~

Katara looked at the cold remains of her tea as Bato’s words swirled in her head. She didn’t see any of her mother in Malina, and she couldn’t work out if that made her happy or not. Perhaps Malina was the type of woman Kya would have picked out for Hakoda herself, someone to comfort him, not challenge him.

“Losing Kya is different for your father and me. We all got separated, so I keep thinking Kya’s just waiting in an Earth Kingdom city somewhere, waiting for us to find her.” Bato added.

“I know where she is.” Katara murmured.

“I know. And it kills me that you do.” Bato said. “Your mother didn’t deserve any of this. She deserved to see her children grow up and to meet her grandchildren. She shouldn’t have a namesake yet.”

“So what about dad?” Katara asked.

“Hakoda deserves peace. If you hadn’t gone through what you did, I would say he deserves to reunite with his children and live comfortably to grow old and fat. But you also deserve a father not blunted by years of imprisonment.” Bato shook his head, now looking at the ground. “You both deserve better but there is no substitution.”

Briefly, Katara thought about Noriko, but banished the seed before it could plant itself in her mind.

“What do I do then?” She questioned.

“My advice? Start over. Your father is a good man, and he loves you very much. We went away because we really thought we were going to protect you, to save you. He never wants to be far from you.” Bato said.

“Then why does he only ever stay with Malina? He was barely in the South Pole until I ordered him to go back.” Katara said sharply, her anger returning faster than she expected.

“You were supposed to be in the North Pole more than you were, remember? But someone decided they were better off traveling with the Avatar, or hiding out in the Fire Nation. Places your father couldn’t easily get to.” Bato said. “And how often did you want to see Malina when you were home?”

“Mmmm.” Katara grumbled, assenting to his point.

“Zuko is coming, correct?” Bato asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be glad to see him again. I haven’t had the chance to really talk to him.” Bato stood and stretched his back. Katara could hear the succession of pops from his joints.

“I think you’ll like him.” Katara said.

“Really? The son of the man who slaughtered my people? Who kept medicine from our village and killed my parents? You think I’ll like the Fire Lord, hmm?” Bato asked casually. Katara sat up, alarmed, and tried to see Bato’s face in the dark.

“Most of all, Katara, I think you need to understand just how much Hakoda is willing to deal with because of how much he loves you.” Bato said. “I hear that your husband is a good man, and I trust that you wouldn’t marry an evil person. But we have suffered differently, you and I. And I don’t have love to help me forgive as easily.”

Without another word, Bato turned and walked back to the palace, leaving Katara alone in the dark. Revenge was not sought in their tribe. Harming another person meant weakening the community. But there was still the matter of justice. Bato would not hold Zuko accountable for the sins of his father, but politics changed things. Katara understood that, and she understood Bato knew the difference as well. His hostility toward the Fire Lord was not the neutral friendliness he used to talk about her husband.

Hakoda had only ever fought with her about politics when he learned of her relationship with Zuko.

Heading back inside herself, Katara went straight to her private rooms. She showered and took extra care with her routine, wasting more of her time before Zuko arrived. Brushing out her hair, Katara’s shoulders sank seeing the wide swaths of black in her normal brown. The past two years had been exhausting beyond a physical way and had tapped into her spiritual reserves. So much had changed, but there was still that feeling of loss over what had been left behind or broken.

Very similar to how she felt at the end of the war.

While smoothing lotion into her arms and legs, Katara took a moment to examine the scars. She remembered Zuko’s fingers tracing them years ago, his pale skin somehow paler than the raised lines on her body.

Standing in the mirror, Katara saw the other scars that sank into her body. The stretch marks that rippled over her stomach and down her thighs. Ebony threads were like embroidery over her dark skin making no pattern but beautiful still.

Pulling on a robe, Katara tied the belt and walked silently to the bed. Purple sheets, made of silk to protect her hair and cool to the touch. There were places in the midlands of the Earth Empire that considered purple dye to belong to the royals. Apparently King Bumi was fond of it, mixing it with the typical green attire of Earth Kingdom citizens.

Katara just loved the blend of red and blue.

Sliding into bed, she shivered as her damp and lotioned legs brushed against the sheets. Tucking herself in, Katara shuddered deeply once and then relaxed. She thought for a moment that she was jealous, but not about Sokka or Kya specifically. Katara had hated everything she and Zuko had to go through in order to even have this place. She hated the schedule and the weeks away from her children and husband, or missing just Zuko.

If the world hadn’t been placed in peril yet again, they may never have won this small victory in the first place.

So in a way, Katara was bitter that she hadn’t earned any sort of simple ending. Her father, Sokka, even Thuy were uncomplicated by their relationships. Either no one was high enough or, as it was for Thuy, the Avatar was someone who could simply do whatever they wished.

A life where she graduated from medical school, became a doctor, and lived with her little family back in the South Pole would never happen. Instead, she had to worry about her daughter’s inheritance, take on her niece as her heir, and run three different nations while also sitting as the lady of another ruler.

And Thuy. Of course, she always had a duty to her Avatar.

Picking up her phone, Katara scrolled through the messages to see if there was any update from Zuko. The flight app showed his plane still in the air, but near enough to Republic City. With almost a decade of ruling as a monarch, her social media was limited, but it was still nice to see what her friends were up to.

Jinora’s daughter Bumi was in elementary school and had bonded with her Sky Bison. Ikki had adopted another flying lemur, bringing her total up to four. Meelo, while not specifically posting about it, was still living near the rehab center where Azula was staying. He was actually incredibly helpful, despite the strange stories Rohan had told her. Meelo seemed to care a lot about Azula and brought his trained, monastic calmness with him when he visited her.

Rohan was on radio silence, again, as they were doing something mysterious out at the Eastern Air Temple.

Thuy’s new account for “the family” was called The Dream Tweem, tweaking the pronunciation of Thuy’s name for the pun. It made Katara snort every time she saw it.

The Dream Tweem was heading to a remote village tucked somewhere in the Xishaan mountains. Jae-hwan, despite his numerous trips with Thuy, was still not a fan of the cold and there were plenty of pictures of him dealing with snow.

Just as Katara was flicking through the album, she got a video call.

“Good evening Auntie!” Thuy said cheerfully.

“Is that Lady Katara?” Suzu’s voice came from behind Thuy and Katara watched her push her shoulder back.

“The kids are in bed!” Thuy said sharply.

“You’re lying!” Suzu retorted and shoved Thuy’s face aside. Katara laughed as she watched the excitement drain from Sula’s face.

“Hello Fire Lady.” Suzu said sadly.

“I’m sorry Suzu, had I known Thuy was going to call, I’d have collected the children.”

“It’s fine.” Suzu replied, dragging the last word out on a sigh while she slunk of view.

“Have you met the ambassador yet?” Thuy asked, her face returning to the screen.

“He comes in tomorrow.” Katara said, shaking her head.

“Oh, Zuko got his then right?”

“Blazes, how can you just call him that?” Zula asked.

“Because my parents weren’t crazy Fire Nation royalists?” Thuy asked, annoyed and confused.

“Are you talking to Auntie?” Jae-hwan came from over Thuy, pushing down on her head.

“Auntie, it’s cold!” He whined.

“I’m not you’re Auntie.” Katara said. “And your mother would lose her mind if she heard you whine like that.”

“Don’t tell mom.” Jae-hwan said quickly.

“I have Toph on speed dial.” Katara warned.

Thuy shoved Jae-hwan off her and sat up, looking at him offscreen.

“You know, sifu says you can’t be cold if you’re practicing.” She said and then laughed as Jae-hwan made an unseen gesture.

“Am I going to hear from Aktuk or Tashi?” Katara asked.

“They’ve gone on ahead to scout since they can handle the cold better.” Thuy said.

“Excuse me?” Zula interjected and Thuy rolled her eyes.

“My apologies madam inner fire.” She said sarcastically.

“Did you call for a reason Thuy?” Katara asked.

“Oh, right. I was wondering if you’ve done any more research on the energybending thing. Tashi and I were talking about it, after that spirit debacle, but we don’t know if we should try again.” Thuy said.

Katara was silent for a moment and Thuy was also still, looking perfectly innocent.

“Where in the mountains are you going Thuy?” She asked.

“A village.”

“What village?”

“A…. mountainous one?”

“Thuy, are you looking for the guardians?”

“Okay so, remember, you can’t really tell me what to do anymore now that I’m a fully awakened Avatar!”

“Thuy! We were all going to go once Iroh recovered!”

“I am so close Auntie! Tashi and I feel really good about this one.” Thuy began but stopped as Katara sat up.

“We don’t know anything about the lion turtles. It could be dangerous!” Katara said.

“Mister Whiskers isn’t even freaking out a little.” Thuy said, trying to calm her down.

“That’s probably because she’s brumating, let’s be real.” Jae-hwan muttered.

“Oh, big word from the street urchin.” Suzu said with what passed for friendly mocking between them.

“I am a Beifong you horrendous little bit-” Jae-hwan’s voice was cut off as Thuy stepped away.

“Are any of you taking this seriously?” Katara asked.

“Auntie, we just came off a world saving mission. We know the stakes. I don’t think anyone else expects to find anything, so they’re doing, whatever. But Tashi and I can feel something out here.” Thuy said.

“Well, don’t poke around there for too long. We’ll go to Ember Island this summer. You and I already know something is out there and we can go as a family.” Katara urged gently.

Thuy smiled and nodded.

“You know, my parents are getting kind of jealous.” She said.

Katara’s breath slowed from the coincidence.

“Oh?” She asked.

“It’s not a big deal, considering how we view family in the Swamp. But it is weird for them to have me be so distant.” Thuy said.

“Comes with being the Avatar I suppose.” Katara agreed.

“We all have things to deal with. Good thing they had other kids.” Thuy said jokingly.

Remembering what Bato said about substitutions, Katara stayed quiet.

“We won’t stay long. I promise.” Thuy said, taking her silence as a reproach.

“Be safe.” Katara said.

“We will Auntie. I love you.” Thuy said.

“I love you. Give the others my love as well.” Katara said.

“Of course Auntie. Good night!” Thuy said.

Before she ended the call, Katara could hear the chorus of other voices wishing her goodnight.

Laying back, Katara held her phone to her chest.

Thuy called her Auntie, but she had become more like a little sister. Thuy had picked her from the very beginning and nothing over the years could change her mind. From every bad mood to times of no communication, Thuy never wavered in her loyalty to Katara.

Her family was such a complex thing.

Katara found a video channel about an unseen man who made knives from all sorts of materials. Hours in, and in the middle of a video about making a knife from smoke, her bedroom door opened slowly.

“Katara?” Zuko called out softly.

Half-asleep, Katara roused and sat up. Her body was warmer now and her robe slipped off one shoulder from her movement. Zuko paused as he stepped in, light burning in his palm.

“Well.” He said with enough interest that Katara felt her pulse quicken. She laughed and straightened out her robe.

“Oh don’t go through the trouble on my account.” Zuko said, walking to the bed.

“Did you just get in?” Katara asked.

Zuko extinguished his flame as he put a knee on the bed, propelling himself into her arms.

“Yes. I went to check on the children first.” He said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into the dip of her shoulder.

“Are they asleep?” She asked. She felt him begin to untie the belt and she chuckled.

“They were when I left.” Zuko said, sitting back now to properly attend the knot.

“I thought we were going to have a big talk.” Katara said as Zuko loosened the knot and undid the belt. He slid his hands through the small gap of the robe and around to her waist.

“You distracted me.” He said.

“By sitting here?” Katara asked and giggled as Zuko pulled her closer.

“Exactly. You know how beautiful you are, how dare you be visible when we have serious things to discuss?”

“You’re impossible.” There was laughter in her voice and Katara knew Zuko was smiling in the dark.

“I’m not sitting here flaunting such allure as if it weren’t enough to declare war.”

“War, sir?”

“War, my lady, and while I shall put up an earnest fight,” Zuko moved her, laying her back down as he straddled her and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I do believe you will best me yet again.”

“Oh but darling,” Katara said demurely, her fingers plucking at his belt buckle. “You may certainly try.”

And while she wished for light to see him, there had been enough years between them that she knew his body by heart.

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[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Not the Last but One of Many

Pairings/Relationships: Dickkory, Core Four

Summary: He can't think of it as their last kiss, because it isn't. It can't be. It's only one of many they have ahead of them - a whole lifetime they will spend together because he is not losing her today.

Kory is the only one who can finish Blackfire and put an end to this. But there's no way Dick is gonna let her turn this into a goodbye.

Kisses | 10. goodbye kisses and 27. desperate kisses - for candlelit

Also for my besties and Graysonfam royalty @wonderbatwayne and @undertheknightwing 👑👑

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

"Kory, no. You can't do this!"

"This is my only chance, Dick! Our only chance!"

Dick's grip on her arm is steel but his brown eyes stay soft as satin sheets when they bore into her green ones, pleading and begging her to listen. But once Kory sets her mind on something, there's no going back. That resistance, that perseverance is in her blood, a DNA stamp of the Royal Family of Tamaran. It's the strength she says she got from her mother, the spark her father once ignited in her, the Starfire of her people running through her veins. Unfortunately those same things are now posing a threat to her new home, a threat in the form of her own sister and one look at Kory's face tells Dick she's willing to go fight against her own flesh and blood, to kill and to die, so that home lives to see another day.

A battle like the Earth has never seen is raging around them, spaceships hang above their hands like boots of giants, ready to squash them like they are nothing but ants. Shots are being fired, laser bolts make the ground around them shake and explode, the noise of the chaos is piercing their brains. The rest of their team is out there somewhere, fighting tooth and nail with Tamaranean soldiers puppeteered but Blackfire, standing their ground, protecting their planet.

But here, in this little bubble of stillness, it's all quiet. It's just the four of them, standing in a tight circle, fighting a battle of their own. A battle with much higher stakes than the fate of the world. It's Dick pulling Kory closer and keeping her by his side when she's determined to tear herself away from him. It's Gar and Rachel, two shining stars in his dark sky, watching them with tight jaws and straight backs, holding their breaths waiting on how this is gonna end.

"Kory, please." Rachel pleads as she takes a step closer and puts her shaking hand on her shoulder. Stubborn teardrops hang on her long eyelashes, not willing to fall just yet. "Stay. We can fight her. Together, like we always do."

"You can't go alone." Gar joins her, pale as a sheet and trembling, but still keeping his chin up. "We can't lose you."

Dick can't help but smile at the strength his children display in that moment. The way they stand next to Kory, high and proud and stubborn as hell, it feels like a mirror image of her. Or maybe it's a mirror image of them both because overtime Gar and Rachel syphoned the best parts of both him and Kory and infused them into themselves. They're both scared, terrified of losing her just like he is but Rachel's eyes, despite being glazed with tears, burn with Dick's fire when she's staring into her mother's eyes and Gar keeps his head up with confidence and royal dignity, throwing Kory a challenge. You won't dare to leave us, his face seems to say.

And Kory sees it too, she sees it all, but this time it's not enough to convince her. Biting her trembling lip she reaches out to cup their cheeks, looking from one beloved face to the other.

"My angels," she sighs and her voice cracks from emotion. "You know as well as I do that this time it's not that easy. I'm the only one who can stop her. I'm the only one strong enough to put an end to this."

Gar's eyes close as his fingers curl around her wrist.

"But we can make you stronger."

"You already did." Kory smiles at him, brushing her thumb over his cheek. "You both are my force and I will use every ounce of it to keep you safe."

"There's no way to change your mind, isn't it?" Rachel more states a fact than asks, her voice brittle and so small Dick's heart shatters to milion sharp-edged pieces in his chest. 

"I'm sorry, honey, but no." Kory shakes her head, then crushes them both to her, burying her face in their shoulders. Rachel and Gar cling to her, digging their fingers into the fabric of her suit. Kory's hands brush gently through their hair as she speaks. "I love you both. I've never loved anyone more in my entire life."

"Stop making it sound like a goodbye." Rachel chokes out into her neck, holding on tighter. Dick feels his throat closing, tears burning behind his eyes like acid.

"It's not, okay? It's a reminder." Kory insists and pulls back, her hands sliding to their shoulders and gripping tightly. And just like that the tears in her eyes dry out, the fear disappears from her face, replaced by pride and strength worthy of both a mother and a queen. "Now go out there, watch each other's backs and kick some ass."

The two young faces harden as well, abandoning their child-like features in a matter of seconds. The cold steel comes back to their eyes as they nod simultaneously.

"Yes, ma'am." They speak in unison and Kory smiles, pride written all over her face.

Then she turns to him, slides her hands into his and suddenly Dick is out of breath. She comes to stand so close their faces are mere inches apart and presses her forehead to his. He sucks in a sharp breath, feeling his heart racing in his chest.

"Fight, my love." she whispers, brushing her nose against his. Her breath is warm and familiar on his face and all Dick wants to do is pull her, closer, closer, closer and keep her there forever. "Fight for our home, for our kids. Fight for us, just like I will."

"Kory…"

"I have to go." She interrupts him and steps back. She straightens her back, lifts her chin up and just like that he finds himself in the presence of a warrior, a queen, a goddess. She towers over him, making him want to kneel in front of her. He would, of course he would, he would bow his head and pledge his allegiance to her with his dying breath. 

"Take care of them." She says after sending one last glance to their children. He nods once, gulping down a lump in his throat.

"You know I will."

They hold each other's gaze for a moment longer, lingering to it like it's a lifeline keeping them alive, until Kory turns her back to him. But before she flies away Dick steps forward. There's one more thing he has to do, one thing he won't survive without, the world be damned. He grabs her arm and turns her back, then pulls her to him, curling his arms around her waist and presses his lips to hers.

It takes his breath away, drags him to his knees, sets his nerves ablaze as if she injected him with her fire. He's hungry and desperate, holding her tightly against his chest as he kisses her with fiery passion that makes his vision go red. Kory answers with the same heat and hunger, arching her back and running her fingers through his hair. It takes him back to their first night together, to the soft yellow glow of a bedside lamp and an old squeaky mattress of that motel bed under their tangled bodies. It takes him back to the starry night and clear sky over Gotham when he took her to the rooftop of the Wayne Manor and kissed her like his life depended on it, for the first time since the night after the asylum. He couldn't take it anymore, being with but still without her, having her so close yet out of reach. 

Just like back then, Dick loses himself in the kiss, in her, trying to savour the taste, to remember it, stash it in a deposit box of his mind under lock and key. He can't think of it as their last kiss, because it isn't. It can't be. It's only one of many they have ahead of them - a whole lifetime they will spend together because he is not losing her today.

When they force themselves to break apart, they're both breathless. Kory leans her forehead against his again and smiles, grins like the sunshine she is. 

"Come back to me, Kory." Dick whispers, squeezing her tighter. She nods, stroking her fingers over his cheek and jaw.

"I love you, Grayson."

And then she's gone between the clouds, only a trail of orange glow left behind her. He keeps his eyes on the sky, straining them to spot her, but there's no use, she must be too high up. He keeps observing though, even when two sets of arms circle around his waist and shoulders. He pulls his kids closer, letting Rachel curl herself to his side and pressing Gar's head to his shoulder. Their eyes are pointed at the clouds as well and together they stand there, three out of four, waiting.

Everyone must have sensed what is about to happen because the battlefield around them goes still and deadly silent. Fighting stops, there's no head that isn't turned towards the sky. The world pauses, holding its breath and Dick starts to pray.

Then the clouds start glowing, explosions of purple and green light against the red sunset. There's no way to hear what's happening, they can only observe as the two sisters take over the skyline. The two colors whirl around each other in a complicated, centuries old dance, tangled together one moment then breaking apart the next. Dick doesn't know where to look, his breath caught in his chest watching as the purple light and green light fly right at each other, coming closer and closer and closer. Rachel shivers against him and he presses her to him even tighter, already knowing what is gonna happen, just like she does.

Then the two lights clash in an explosion so bright they all need to look away to not have their eyes burned. It's like a supernova went off in front of them, turning into stardust.

And everything goes still.

One minute passes. Two. Three. Nothing is happening, neither of the sisters is coming down to announce their victory. The sky is clear and empty and the sight only makes Dick's insides twist into tight knots.

"What's going on?" Gar's confused voice echoes next to his ear.

"Dick, where is she?" Rachel asks him, staring at him with those baby blues like he has all the answers in the world.

He doesn't.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." he whispers at the sky, wrapping his arms tighter around the kids. Rachel hides her face in the crook of his neck, he can feel her hot tears damping his skin. Gar rests his forehead on his shoulder and chokes on a sob. Dick can only hold them tight, kiss their heads and pray.

Pray and pray until his prayer is answered.

It's a blink of an eye. A twink of the first star in the night sky. And then she's there, falling down slowly with the grace of a goddess, embedded in golden light. Her eyes glow green, hair a red flame and she touches down to the ground with the lightness of a feather.

She smiles at him and that's all it takes for him to run to her. With Gar and Rachel on his heel he gets to her in a few quick strides and she falls right into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck and kissing him fiercely. Gar and Rachel tug themselves under their arms and they both pull them closer, locking them in the safety of their embrace.

Dick smiles, pressing his lips to Kory's forehead. Not the last kiss, but one of many. 

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 46

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

The next morning Katie and Klaus were talking to the moving company about what they wanted to move from where, when Katie’s phone started ringing and she looked down at it to see Caroline’s name on the screen. “Why is she calling? They all gave up on getting in touch with me months ago.” Katie thought as she excused herself from Klaus. With a nervous hand Katie pressed the talk button and walked out onto the balcony of their living quarters. “Hello?” Katie answered.

“Oh, my god, Katie, is it really you?” Caroline asked in a rush of unbelieving words.

“It’s really me.” Katie answered with a smile.

“Where are you? Are you okay? Why did you go MIA? We thought Klaus had dragged you off somewhere and killed you or something.” Caroline asked, excited to be talking to her friend for the first time in months.

“Okay, give me one second and I’ll answer what questions I can.” Katie told Caroline then muted the phone so she wouldn’t be able to hear Katie talking to Klaus who joined her on the balcony. “So, since everyone and their mother seem to know about us and baby Mikaelson, do you think it’s safe to tell my friends?”

“I assumed Tyler had already told them.” He replied.

“Hello! Katie! Don’t put me on hold.” Caroline yelled over the phone so loud it sounded like she was on speaker phone.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t or Caroline would’ve just mentioned it.” Katie told Klaus with a smile at the phone and Caroline being Caroline.

“They are still your friends, yes?” he asked.

“Estranged, but yeah.” She nodded.

“Then tell her before she breaks the speaker in your phone.” He said with a look at the phone that Caroline was still ranting through.

Katie flashed him a big smile and he kissed her on the cheek then went back inside to give her space. Katie unmated the phone. “Okay, to answer your first question I’m in New Orleans with Klaus who would never murder me by the way.” She told Caroline.

“Well you can’t blame us for assuming that he did. He was pretty mad at you before he left to go after you.” Caroline replied.

Katie didn’t know why he was mad at her and she didn’t feel like thinking about it at the moment. “My trip here to meet my father was just supposed to last two days tops considering I didn’t want to miss prom.”

“Then why did you miss it and graduation and college orientation?” Caroline asked, making a pain shoot through Katie’s chest at the thought of the life she was leaving behind for Klaus and baby M.

“Okay are you ready for some…unbelievable news?” Katie asked with a sigh.

“Um, I guess.” Caroline replied.

“Seriously you should probably be sitting down for this.” Katie told her.

“Okay, I’m sitting down.” Caroline told her.

“I’m pregnant.” Katie told her.

“You’re joking.” Caroline laughed. Katie knew the only way Caroline would believe her was if she saw it for herself. So she lifted her shirt, took a picture of her stomach, her daylight ring hand cupping it for proof, and sent it to Caroline.

Katie heard the rustle of Caroline looking at the photo then dead silence to a long thirty seconds. “Care…are you alive?”

“Just…processing.” Caroline answered, sounding like her mind was a million miles away. “How is that possible?”

“Well you see when a mommy and daddy love each other very much-”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Carline cut her off and Katie laughed. “Katie this isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry, but you know you set yourself up for that.” Katie defended herself then got serious. “When my vampire soul mysteriously recovered from getting shattered it had some biological side effects. Like fertility for example.”

“Okay.” Caroline drawled. “So who’s the father?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Klaus.” Katie answered like it was the obvious answer. “Turns out when he unlocked his werewolf gene it also gave him the ability to pass it on.”

“Oh my god…” Caroline sighed. “Oh my god.” She said again with more vigor as it sank in. “Wait so that’s why you didn’t come home? Because you were scared to tell us that you’re pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson’s baby?”

“Uh…no.” Katie answered. “Long story short the New Orleans witches used me and my pregnancy to blackmail Klaus into doing their bidding. One witch linked me to another so I couldn’t leave the city or they would kill me. I couldn’t tell anyone about the fact that I was pregnant because everyone was convinced that a hybrid baby would be the end of the freaking world and wanted it dead.”

“God…Katie…I’m so sorry. I swear we tried to find you. Bonnie tired a locator spell but it didn't work. She said there was nothing to find and Klaus wasn’t returning our calls. We really thought you were dead.” Caroline defended herself.

“Yeah something tells me that spell wasn’t your average everyday linking spell.” Katie complained. “But if you thought I was dead why did you call me?”

“Honestly I was having a bad day and feeling nostalgic. I was hoping I could still hear your voicemail message.” Caroline answered. “But I got the real thing which is so much better.” The excited tone of Caroline’s voice made Katie smile. “So are you still linked to that witch?” Caroline asked curiously.

“No, I’ve been unlinked for a while now. It only became safe for me to let people know about the baby a few days ago and things have been crazy with Klaus and Rebekah and Elijah, hence why I haven’t tried to contact you guys. It was safer for everyone if I kept you all in the dark. I’m really sorry about that.”

“No, Katie, I’m just glad you’re okay.” Caroline brushed it off. “You are okay, right?”

“I’m more than okay.” Katie answered not being able to keep the smile from her face.

“Oh, hey, Elena just walked in.” Caroline said and Katie could hear Caroline put her on speaker phone.

“Who are you talking to?” Elena asked.

“Katie.” Caroline answered and Katie could hear the smile in her voice.

“What?” Elena asked, sounding a little like she was in shock.

“She’s not dead. She’s pregnant and I’m pretty sure she’s happy about it.” Caroline informed Elena with a happy bubbly-ness to her voice that only Caroline could do without being completely annoying.

“What?” Elena asked again and Katie could easily see Elena’s jaw dropped expression in her head.

“Is that all you can say?” Katie asked with a laugh knowing Caroline would give Elena the full story later.

“Katie if I could punch you through this phone I would.” Elena told her even though she sounded happy to know that Katie was alive. “Wait, did I hear Caroline right, you’re pregnant?”

“Yep.” Katie answered. “I’ll let Caroline explain how later. Right now I need to know, Caroline, are you and Tyler still together?”

“No, that’s actually why I was having a bad day. We broke up last night.” Caroline answered.

“Last night?” Katie asked with wide eyes. “Did he break up with you over the phone?”

“No, he was here at Duke, why do you sound surprised?” Caroline asked and Katie could hear the confusion in her voice.

“Because last I heard he was still here in New Orleans.” Katie answered. “If I may ask, why did the two of you break up?”

“Because I made him choose between me and his revenge against Klaus. He chose Klaus.” Caroline answered. “He never said anything to me about seeing either of you.”

“Then that means that he didn’t tell you what happened when he was here…” Katie sighed as she leaned on the rail and put her forehead in her hands. “I really don’t want to tell you this, but… he tried to kill my baby.”

“Matt said something to me about Tyler having a run in with Klaus in New Orleans and that Klaus put him through hell…” Elena said. “I guess now we know why.”

“So when can we see you?” Caroline asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“I don’t know…” Katie sighed. “Klaus and I are still in the process of moving into the house he and his family built way back when and a lot of things are still up in the air, but hopefully soon. I miss you guys and we have a lot of catching up to do that I don’t want to do over the phone.”

“We miss you too.” Elena told her.

Klaus walked out onto the balcony next to Katie and wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “So I gotta let you guys for now, but I promise I’ll stay in touch from now on.”

“Talk to you later.” Elena said.

“We love you!” Caroline yelled happily.

“Bye guys.” Katie laughed at Caroline as she hung up.

“So I take it your chat went well?” Klaus asked as she turned in his arm to stand in front of him and leaned back on the railing.

“Other than finding out that Tyler is not in the garden where I thought he was and telling Caroline that her recent ex is a baby killing dick, yeah. It was good.” Katie finished with a content smile.

“You miss them don’t you?” he asked, making it clear that he hadn’t listened in on her conversation.

“You didn’t eavesdrop on me, did you?” she asked a little surprised.

“Of course not. Your private conversations are just that…private.” He assured her.

“I swear, you’re perfect and no one can convince me otherwise.” She told him with a serious look and a shake of her head that made him chuckle at her. “And I really need to stop eavesdropping on you.”

“It’s fine. I have nothing to hide from you. You know that.” he brushed it off.

“I know, but eavesdropping is disrespectful, and I respect you as much as I love you. I need to break the bad habit.” She told him as she slid her hands up to rest her arms on his shoulders. “To answer your question, yes, I miss them. And if possible I’d love to pay them a visit.” She answered as she slid her hands up his chest to rest her wrists on his shoulders.

“As soon as we get settled and find a good moment to slip away I’ll escort you there myself. Unless you would rather go with your father.” He told her.

“No, I’m not going that far away with him. I don’t trust him that much yet.” She told him with a shake of her head.

“Good, because I don’t either.” He agreed with her. “I have a meeting with the faction at Saint Anne’s church. The moving company should be by in a few hours with our things from the plantation. I may or may not be back before then, it all depends on how the meeting goes.” He told her as he pulled her closer.

“Okay. I’ll obviously be here when you get back.” she told him with a nod then pecked him on the lips. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She smirked at him as she gave him a light push backwards.

“That’s no fun.” He commented with a playful smirk back as he turned around and headed to the front of their living quarters. She just laughed as she followed him to the door then kissed him once more before he left and she shut the door behind him.

She was sitting at a patio table on the balcony, reading a book when she heard a whoosh and looked up to see Elijah standing across from her and she jumped. “Elijah…” she sighed, placing her hand over her pounding heart. “Don’t do that.” she threw her book at him and he caught it.

“My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.” he told her as he closed the book.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with an attitude that made it clear she didn’t want him to be.

“I don’t like how we left things.” He explained. “I owe you yet another apology.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Elijah.” She told him with a shake of her head, noticing that he wasn’t wearing his usual suit, but a pair of dark jeans, a black cotton shirt and nice, black, button up jacket with the collar upturned instead.

He set the book on the patio table and pulled out a chair. “May I join you?” he asked with a motion to the chair.

She took in a deep breath then let it out. “Sure, why not?” her words were tainted with thick sarcasm, but he sat down anyway.

“You said it seems like I lack faith in you, I do not.” He told her as he fiddled with the book on the table. “I believe now more than ever that you will help me achieve the one thing I’ve desired most in my life.” He told her with a squint of his eyes. “My brother’s salvation.”

“How are we supposed to work together to accomplish anything if there is constantly this…wall, of unrequited feelings not only causing problems with you and me, but you and Klaus?” she asked, wanting to work through their problems.

“That is the tricky question.” He sighed as he looked down at the book and straightened it on the table.

“I can’t tell you to stop having feelings for me. It’s not my place or right to tell you what to do or feel.” She told him as she sat up straighter and crossed her arms on the table. “But Elijah, we have to work something out. Even though you said you wouldn’t let your feelings stand in the way they are… regardless of your intentions. I mean, what Klaus said about you trying to color him the lesser brother in my eyes…is that really what you were trying to do when you accused him of wanting to use our baby to sire hybrids?”

“Not intentionally.” He answered. “I cannot deny that I am jealous of Niklaus and angry at myself. In all my one thousand years I have never felt such…emotional turmoil.” Katie frowned and looked down at her arms on the table, hating that she was causing this. “My own grievances caused me to lash out at you. To suggest that your word could be easily broken, that my brother would use his child for his own personal gain… it was unfair and untrue. For that I am sorry.”

Katie sighed as she leaned forward resting her head on her arms. “Apology accepted.” She mumbled not picking her head up.

“You care about Niklaus, you’re devoted to him, he makes you happy.” Katie picked her head up and sat up straight. “However, because I’ve never heard you say, I have to ask, do you love him?”

“Yes.” She answered only to see the hurt in his eyes that he tried to hide. “And it pains me to know that my love for your brother is the cause of your unhappiness. I hate seeing you like this…seeing your emotional turmoil turn you into someone you’re not…” she looked away from him and down to the street below. “You don’t break promises, you don’t make unfounded accusations…yet since I’ve become a part of your life, that’s all I’ve seen from you. If me leaving your life would solve the problem I would.

“That would only make the problem worse.” He replied with a shake of his head and Katie looked back at him. “I need you in my life.” Katie placed her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together at a loss of words. “If not as my lover then as my friend.”

“Friends?” Katie asked with a raised brow. “Do you really think you can manage that?”

“I do.” He told her with a confident nod. “Because you are not only good for Klaus, but he is good for you. You carry yourself with a confidence that I’ve never seen from you before. He brings out a whole different side of you…a strength that’s bright and…” he shook his head not able to find the word he was looking for.

“Fiery?” she asked with a smirk.

He smirked back. “Yes.” He sat up straighter and swiped his pointer finger across his bottom lip. “Niklaus has accused me of snuffing you out in the past. I assure you I only wish to help you burn brighter. I need you to tell me how to achieve that.”

Katie dropped her hands and placed them in her lap with a shrug. Her green eyes looked into his browns in thought. “Just… do as you said and be my friend. Support my happiness and your brothers. I know Rebekah thinks he doesn’t deserve love or happiness, especially since he’s taken hers away so many times, but he does. He also deserves the love and support of his family, you all do.”

“Friends it is then.” He told her with a smirk that she returned before she remembered that Hayley had given him a ride back from the bayou and it fell.

“As your friend I have to ask, was that Hayley that gave you a ride home from the bayou?” she asked.

“Yes.” He answered. “She was still at the campsite and came to my aid.”

“You know she helped Tyler kidnap me, right?” Katie asked.

“Tyler made her.” He informed her and Katie frowned. “He called her a sympathizer because she didn't believe Klaus would hurt a child. Apparently my brother aided her, protected her from Katherine, and won her favor.”

“Klaus did help her.” Katie confirmed.

“She also said she was afraid her anger at Tyler and what he was planning on doing might have given you the wrong impression.” He explained. “She assured me she did not want the child dead, but she didn’t have the power to stand up to a hybrid.”

“She didn't exactly stick around to watch once we got to the cabin.” Katie thought out loud. “And she pointed out Tyler's true intentions as soon as she could. I thought the disdain I heard in her voice was aimed at me, but it easily could have been aimed at Tyler.” Katie played the day and the little time she was around Hayley over in her head and realized what she’d told Elijah could very well be true. “I was going to say she’s not a good person, but maybe that was a hasty judgment.”

“Perhaps it was.” He agreed with a nod as he stood up and started to leave.

“Elijah.” Katie called again and he turned back to her. “You know I’m not the one you really needed to apologize to, right?” he gave her a nod then with a whoosh, he disappeared.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie got bored waiting for the moving company to call and started wandering around the compound. Interested in the basement that Klaus had skipped to save time on his tour, she went there and found Josh and a young woman talking in the garage. “You can trust Marcel. And if Klaus tries to hurt you…I’ll hurt him.” she heard the girl say.

“I’m going to politely suggest that you don’t try that.” Katie spoke up, alerting them to her presence.

“You’re Katie…Klaus’s wife?” The young pretty brunette girl observed.

“Wife no, significant other, yes.” Katie answered. “And judging off your young age, confidence in Marcel and hatred of Klaus I’m assuming you’re the all powerful witch, Davina. Josh I’ve met.” She looked around Davina to Josh with a small smile. “Hello again.”

“Hi.” He said, giving her a flick of his wrist in an awkward wave.

“The less inflammatory way to protect Josh from Klaus’s backlash for leading him into a trap would be to trust me.” Katie said letting her eyes bounce between Josh and Davina.

“You’re Klaus’s other half, why would we trust you?” Davina asked with hard eyes.

“Because while Klaus is the irrational half, I’m the rational one. And I believe in second chances.” She added with a look at Josh.

“And we’re just supposed to believe you?” Davina asked.

“No, but you could give me a chance to prove myself.” Katie said hopefully. “Look, you and I have something in common.”

“What’s that?” Davina drawled with a little less disdain in her eyes.

“Both our lives have been threatened by the French quarter witches.” Katie answered. “We’ve been used by them.”

“Well, your boyfriend wants to use me too, so....” Davina pointed out.

“And I may have unfortunately encouraged him…” Katie admitted. “But it was only because I was afraid and I knew you had the power to protect my baby from the witches. I know that doesn’t make it right and I am sorry. I’m not trying to manipulate you or sway you from Marcel to side with me and Klaus. I’m just trying to be upfront and honest with you.”

“So why would you protect Josh?” Davina asked and Josh gave her a look that said he was wondering the same thing.

“Because I have no friends’ here, I had to leave them all behind.” She answered with a shrug.

“What about that guy I’ve seen you talking to? Bradley. Are you two not friends?” Josh asked.

“If my estranged biological father is the only person in this place I can call a friend then my life is far more tragic than I ever thought.” Katie admitted with an ashamed face and a shake of her head. “Oh, and,” Katie perked up with a look at Davina, “I believe I owe you a thank you for saving my baby’s life.”

“What?” Davina asked, clearly confused.

“Elijah didn’t tell you what the spell he gave you was did he?” Katie asked.

“It was a spell if unknotting. He said it was used as representational magic.” Davina answered.

“What is it with the Mikaelson’s and not being truthful about their intentions?” she asked rhetorically with an eye roll. “The spell unlinked me from Sophie Deveraux who had been stabbed with the needle of sorrows. Do you know what that is?” she asked and Davina nodded. “You completed the spell in the nick of time and saved me from the witch’s abortion attempt. I am incredibly grateful for you and your magic and equally sorry that Elijah misled you in order to help me.”

“You saved a baby?” Josh asked Davina.

“It seems so.” Davina answered with wide eyes.

“Can you forgive Elijah for deceiving you?” Katie asked, trying her best to keep down the hatred of the originals, especially hatred that could be as powerful as Davina’s.

“I…don’t know.” Davina answered sounding confused.

“Understandable.” Katie nodded not pushing the subject.

Katie’s phone started ringing and she looked at it to see the number of the moving company. “I have to take this, but feel free to hunt me down if there’s ever anything I can help either of you with, or even if you just want to talk.” She then looked at Davina. “I know you have Marcel and you trust him, but sometimes you just need another woman’s ear.” She answered the phone and headed upstairs.

“She’s weird.” She heard Davina tell Josh.

“Seems nice to me.” Josh replied and Katie smiled as she walked away.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was on her way through the courtyard, headed back to their quarters when she looked up from the tuna fish sandwich in her hands and saw Klaus standing on the stairs, Elijah standing at the bottom of them looking up at Klaus’s back. “There is something important we need to discuss.” Elijah told his brother.

As Klaus turned to look at Elijah his eyes caught Katie standing across the courtyard looking at them like she didn’t know what to do. “Mmm, sorry.” She said then swallowed the bite of the sandwich. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll just…” she pointed at the second set of stairs in the courtyard and headed toward them.

“No, stay, please.” Elijah said, stopping her. “You should hear this too.” Katie just looked at Klaus, silently asking him if he wanted her to stay. He gave her a nod so she walked over, sitting her paper towel wrapped sandwich on one of the tables that she walked past then stood by Klaus who now stood at the base of the stairs. “While I was in the bayou Hayley informed me that werewolves from all around have been coming to New Orleans to witness the miracle pregnancy. One of them spoke of a legend. A legend wherein long ago, a chief of theirs had fathered a child to a very powerful witch. Their mythology further states, this child, a son, was later transformed into something this clan had never before seen…something werewolf and vampire.” He paused to pull something out of his pocket and tossed it to Klaus who caught it in his fist. “That was found hanging around this wolf's neck. Do you recognize it?” Klaus opened up his fist and they both looked at the silver ring in his hand that was made to look like knotted twine, a hole where a stone had once been in the center of it. “Perhaps you don’t, it has been a thousand years since you last saw it grace the hand of our mother.”

“Are you telling us that you found descendants of his biological father?” Katie asked just to clarify.

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Elijah answered with a nod.

“I have had enough of family to last a lifetime, why would I possibly want more?” Klaus asked, seemingly unaffected by Elijah’s news as he turned and started back up the stairs.

“There is something else of importance we have neglected to discuss.” Elijah spoke up. Klaus stopped and turned toward him. “I accused you of having ulterior motives regarding the child…I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I imagine that must have been hard for you to say.” Klaus replied.

Elijah took in a deep breath then blew it out through his nose. “You don’t make it easy to love you, Brother.”

“Yet you are obstinate in your desire to do so.” Klaus said and Elijah dropped his eyes then looked back up at him. Klaus looked at Elijah with emotion filled eyes. “When you are ready, should you be so inclined, both you and Rebekah are welcome to join us here.” He turned his back on Elijah and headed up the stairs. “It is after all our family home.”

Katie gave Elijah a small smile as she grabbed her sandwich off the table. “Is that tuna?” he asked with a curious face and Katie nodded then took a bite. “Are you a cat?”

She chewed and swallowed. “Nope, I’m pregnant and craving weird crap. If I get another craving for chocolate I might just have to try it." She told him then started up the stairs.

TVDTVDTVD

Klaus’s hands slid over the wet, pale skin of Katie’s back, helping wash away the suds of her soap. “How was your day?”

“Not bad.” She replied tilting her head to the side as his hands slipped over the side of her neck then down her shoulder. “I attempted to make new friends so we wouldn’t be compelling Cami. We really need to stop messing with that poor girl's head.”

“So, if not Cami, who may I ask will you be making friends with?”

“A certain powerful witch and her traitor vampire friend.” Katie answered.

“Davina and Josh?” Klaus asked, a little surprised. “Interesting choices.”

“I didn’t think Davina’s friendship would be a bad thing. I guess I’m hoping that at the very least she’ll at least let me be a mentor or even just a trusted ear. It kind of seems like other than Marcel she’s alone here.”

“Alone, save one high status vampire…isolated from any friends she may have had before the harvest ritual. Perhaps you see similarities between her and yourself? Kindred spirits if you will.” Klaus asked as he wrapped his arms around her and set his chin lightly on her shoulder.

“Kind of, yeah.” Katie answered.

“And why Joshua?” Klaus asked curiously.

“I don’t know. He seems nice and he happened to be with Davina at the time.” She shrugged.

“He also happens to be someone I’ve used…” Klaus pointed out and when she didn’t say anything he turned her around to look at him. “It is not your job to right my wrongs.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” She defended.

“Josh wouldn’t be a vampire had I not killed him and it is no secret that I want Davina’s power…her protection for our child.” He told her.

Seeing the blood from his day’s killings still dried on his chest she grabbed his body wash and a washcloth. “Yes, but people probably don’t see that I encouraged your pursuit of Davina.” She put some soap on the rag and started washing the blood from his skin. “I was mad at the witches and not thinking straight before. It was easy to want to use her when Davina was just an idea of a person in my head. But now I’ve met her and she’s young and strong, not just with magic.” She twirled her finger asking him to turn around so he did. “She needs someone to be straight with her and let her make her own decisions. And Josh is a new vampire which means his loyalties may not be deeply rooted with Marcel yet. I just wanted to drop a seed of trust and friendship and hope they plant it.” He turned around and took the wash cloth from her. “Plus, you’re more than capable of cleaning up your own messes if you want to.”

“I still say I should buy you a tiara.” He said with a smirk.

“Stop.” She laughed and hit him in the shoulder. “So who’s blood just got washed down the drain?” she asked as she stepped back and leaned against the wall, admiring him as he finished showering.

“The faction’s. Excluding father Kieran. I actually see potential in him. He’s a reasonable man.” He answered and Katie just smirked at him. “What?”

“One of these days I’m going to get to see you in action in person.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest making him give her a small smile. “So what did they do that warranted their deaths?”

“I ignored Marcel’s advice, angered the faction with my new terms and they pulled a drive by on the bar we were at after the meeting. In doing so they shot out the black out windows. Several of the night walkers were inside and burned to death before we could help them. So…” he paused to rinse out the wash cloth then tossed it over the brushed nickel grab bar and pulled her into him, “we slaughtered the lot of them.” She smiled as his hands slid down to her butt and playfully bit her shoulder with a growl.

“So what’s going to happen now that there’s no faction?” she asked as he kissed her neck.

“Father Kieran is going to remake it then we’ll reopen negotiations.” He answered as he pulled away from her neck and she turned around and turned the water off.

After their shower they were lounging around doing their own things, Katie reading A House Of Night novel on one end of the couch while Klaus sat on the opposite end with a sketch pad in his hand when she remembered that she had left out a major event of her day. “So something else happened today.” Katie spoke up as she glanced up at Klaus.

“Yeah?” he asked with a glance up at her from his book.

“Elijah paid me a visit.” He put down his pencil giving her his full attention. “Long story short, he sees that you’re just as good for me as I am for you. We’ve agreed to be friends.”

“And you believe him?” he asked with a frown.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to give it a try.” She replied. A few minutes passed before Katie remembered that Caroline had said that Klaus was mad at Katie when he left Mystic Falls to come find her. “So earlier today, Caroline mentioned that you were pissed at me when you left to come find me…” not able to focus on her book she closed it and put it on the coffee table Klaus didn’t look up from his sketch pad. “Why were you so mad?”

“You didn’t keep in touch.” he answered simply.

“And that pissed you off?” Katie asked, a little confused. He put his sketch pad and charcoal on the table then gave her a look that told her the answer shouldn’t be that hard to figure out. “You thought I’d abandoned you…”

He nodded. “I felt like an idiot for falling for you, and I hated it.” he answered quietly. “I burned half my sketches of you and I should tell you before Caroline does,” a pain shot through her chest at the thought of what was about to come out of his mouth, “I let her wear your prom dress.” A sigh left her lips, happy he didn’t say he’d slept with her to get back at Katie. “Elena stole hers and she came to me for help since you told her about my collection.” When Katie didn’t say anything, looking at the floor in thought, Klaus asked, “Are you angry?”

“Is letting her wear my dress the only thing you did?” she asked not looking at him.

“Yes.” He answered honestly.

Katie finally looked up at him. “Then I’m not mad. That dress was too beautiful not to be worn by someone.”

“As beautiful as your dream wedding dress?” he asked with a hopeful smile to lighten the mood.

She laughed and shook her head. “I never should have told you about that.”

“Perhaps Caroline would know which dress was your favorite.” He said with a devious smile.

“She might, but I doubt it.” Katie told him with a smile as she turned around and laid on the couch with her head in his lap and a hand resting on her stomach. “You’re welcome to ask her.”

“I just might.” He told her with a challenging tone as she brushed her hair out of her face.

TVDTVDTVD

A few mornings later Katie woke up to find she was in bed alone, but the smell of paint was in the air so she knew Klaus was near. “The queen awakens.” He commented seeing she was up.

“What time is it?” she groaned.

“Six twenty.” He answered not looking away from the painting he was working on. “I didn’t let you sleep in too long did I?”

“No. It’s fine.” She answered. “How did you manage to get out of bed without me waking up?”

“You were in a very deep sleep. I was able to slip right out from under your arm.” He explained.

She sat up and lifted her left hand to push her hair out of her face, but a sparkle of something caught her eye and she looked at her hand to see a white gold ring on her ring finger. A scroll design and a chevron ribbon of small diamonds came together to create a tiara with a swirling heart at its peak. A beautiful blue sapphire sat in the center of it. “You actually bought me a tiara.” Katie said in awe as she looked up from her hand to see Klaus smirking at her.

“Well, I couldn’t have you going out and about without any indication that you are taken. You are hot and as far as anyone outside this compound knows, available, and the thought of someone hitting on you makes me want to rip someone’s spine out through their throat.” He told her, making her laugh at how he basically turned her words into his own.

“You…” Katie slid out of the bed and walked over to him. “are going to give me a big head, Big Bad Wolf.”

“Does that mean you like it?” he asked with a look down at her.

“I love it.” she told him as she took his hand in hers. “And I love you”

“What about this?” he asked with a motion to the painting.

She turned her eyes to the painting of her lying on the bed on her side with one hand under the pillow, the dark blue sheet wrapped around her body clinging to her beautifully. The light shining in through the three windows glinted off her auburn waves that were fanned out over her pillow.

“Is that what I really looked like or is it just how you see me?” Katie asked, not believing that something so beautiful could feature her.

“Both.” He answered then looked at her face, seeing that she couldn’t take her eyes off of the painting. “Have I finally convinced you of your beauty?”

“Nope.” She answered then looked at him. “Is it finished?”

“Not quite, but it should be by the time you’re done with your breakfast.” With the paintbrush in his hand he pointed to the table where a plate of eggs, bacon and a croissant sat next to a steaming cup of coffee.

She stood on her toes and caught his lips with hers, told him, “You’re awesome.” then walked over to the table and started eating her breakfast. “A promise ring, breakfast and I get to watch you paint.” she said with a smile in her voice making him turn from the painting to see her checking him out. “Is it my birthday?”

“Well, it was just supposed to be the ring and breakfast, however I’ve wanted to paint you for a while now and this morning just happened to present the opportunity.” He told her as he turned back to the canvas.

“Speaking of birthdays…” she took a sip of coffee then asked, “When is yours?”

“I stopped celebrating my birthday a long time ago.” He told her, not looking back at her.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She sing-songed at him.

“March 25th.” He answered with a smirk at her over his shoulder.

“You let me miss it. Why didn’t you say something?” she pouted.

“Like I said, I stopped celebrating it.” he replied. “Speaking of celebrations, the annual casket girl festival is tonight.”

“The what?” Katie asked with a mouth full of her breakfast.

“I’ll let Rebekah tell you all about it. She likes boasting about her involvement in the history this event is based around.” He answered.

Katie frowned. “That would imply that I’d have to talk to Rebekah.” She took a sip of her coffee as she watched him rinse out his brush turning the clear water red. “Last I checked we weren’t on the best of terms with each other.”

“Well, she asked me to let you know she’s having trunks of dresses brought down from storage if you wanted to go through them and find a dress for the festival tonight.” He told her as he dried the brush and stuck it in a jar of other brushes then sat down across from her. “So she can’t be that mad at you.”

“Huh…okay then.” Katie said with a shrug then went back to her breakfast and coffee. After a few seconds it clicked that she was going to get to do something fun and she looked up at Klaus who smirked at her. “Are you taking me to the festival?”

“If you would like to go, yes.” He answered, making a big smile spread over her face.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to get dressed up and go have fun with you by my side.” she answered around a bite of bacon.

“You might change your mind about that when you see the theme.” He told her with a devious smirk. She just rolled her eyes and finished her breakfast, now eager to meet up with Rebekah and go through vintage clothing.

TVDTVDTVD

“So,” Katie started as she walked over to Rebekah who was digging through a really nice old wooden trunk, “Klaus told me you invited me to come pick out a dress with you…”

“Yes I…wanted to apologize.” Rebekah answered as she stood up with a white dress in her hands.

“You wanted to, or was this Elijah’s doing?” Katie asked, still suspicious of Rebekah and her back stabbing tendencies.

“Elijah may have suggested it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you in the pursuit of my brother’s demise.” She told her as she put the dress back in the trunk, deciding she didn’t like it.

“Rebekah, Klaus and I may not be linked, but when you hurt him you hurt me. That’s just how love works.” Katie told her with a shake of her head.

Rebekah finally stopped looking at dresses to look at Katie. “What did you just say?”

“That I love Klaus.” Katie answered then turned her eyes to the trunk of white dresses. “So, what’s this casket girl festival all about anyway?” she asked to change the subject.

“The casket girls were virtuous young society women imported from France with the promise of marrying a proper New Orleans gentleman.” Rebekah explained. “Little did they know the men who awaited them were far from proper and not at all gentle. It’s a yearly reminder of how women can be oppressed by selfish men and how they can triumph when brave enough to fight for themselves.”

“Klaus said you were involved with the history of the casket girls?” Katie asked.

“As often as I could I’d intercept the carriages carrying the girls and save them from their awful fates.” Rebekah answered.

“You know, I sometimes forget you’re not the complete and total bitch you come across as most of the time.” Katie told her with a smile and Rebekah just smirked and shook her head. “So women wear wedding dresses to celebrate girl power New Orleans style?”

“Yep.” Rebekah answered them motioned to the trunk. “Have at it, although I don’t see much potential in this lot.”

Katie had found a dress and was trying it on in a room nearby when Elijah walked by and saw her struggling to pull up the zipper in the back. “Would you like some help?” he asked as he leaned on the frame of the open door.

“I think there’s no use.” Katie replied then blew air between her lips as she let her hands fall from her back. “But you’re welcome to try.”

The mirror gave her a clear view of him and she noticed that he had once again skipped the suit and opted for a white t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans and a black jacket. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her. He managed to pull the zipper up a few more inches, but didn’t want to risk popping the stitching. “I’m afraid you were right.”

“This was the biggest dress in the trunks…” she sighed as she turned to face him at the same time Klaus walked into the room. “The idea of a pregnant casket girl seems a little silly anyway.” She sighed as she ran her hand over her stomach.

“You know there are bridal shops in town with dresses on sale for the occasion.” Rebekah commented as she walked in. “I’m not finding much in the other trunks either.”

Katie couldn’t take her eyes off of the look on Klaus’s face. “I know that look, Big Bad Wolf, you can keep trying to imagine my dream dress, but you’ll never guess what it looks like.” She told him with a smirk making both Elijah and Rebekah look back and forth between Katie and Klaus, both just now noticing the rings on their hands.

“Is there something you two wish to tell us?” Elijah asked with squinted eyes.

“We’re engaged.” Klaus said with a devious look on his face.

“Klaus Mikaelson!” Katie scolded with a shocked smile as she moved from the mirror and punched him in the shoulder. He just laughed as he spun her around and wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her back into his chest.

“Did I just hear that you’re engaged?” Her father asked from where he stood in the doorway with wide eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t going to propose to him.”

“Why is everyone and their mother in this room right now?” Katie asked.

“When were you planning on telling me?” Rebekah asked, a little mad. “The maid of honor is responsible for helping you pick out your dress and planning everything.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask the bride's father for her hand.” Her father chipped in.

Klaus just laughed where he still stood behind Katie with his arms wrapped around her. “Okay, everyone just stop.” Katie told them as she stepped out of Klaus’s arms. “Stop, rewind,” she moved her two pointer fingers around each other in a winding motion, “and ignore Klaus.” She gave Klaus a glare and he just laughed. “We’re not getting married. We’re not engaged and no offense,” she looked at Rebekah, “if Klaus and I do ever decide to tie the knot Caroline will be my maid of honor as I promised her long ago she would be.”

“So what’s with the rings?” Rebekah asked.

“They’re…” she looked at Klaus and asked, “promise rings?” with an unsure look. He pulled the corners of his mouth down with a shrug. “They’re promise rings. Now can we get back to what we were doing?” she asked with a look at Rebekah.

“Well, I’m going out to find a dress, are you coming with?” Rebekah asked.

“Yeah, just give me a minute to change.” Katie answered.

“So you’re not getting married?” Bradley asked, still standing near the door.

“No.” Katie answered with a shake of her head. “Are you going to be at the festival?”

“No, street fares aren’t really my speed.” He answered with a shake of his head then noticed Klaus giving him a why-are-you-still-here look. “I’ll…see you later though.” He left, leaving Katie alone with Elijah and Klaus and the thick awkwardness that hung around them.

Katie chewed on the inside of her lip as her eyes bounced between the two of them. “Okay, I’m gonna get out of this dress now.” she turned her back on Klaus and asked, “Do you mind?” After he’d unzipped the dress she ducked behind the folding screen in the corner of the room and started changing. “So, Elijah, are you planning on going to the festival?” Katie asked from behind the screen, hoping to break the tension.

“I was actually going to offer to accompany you if my brother was too busy running his kingdom to do so.” Elijah answered and Katie rolled her eyes as she pulled her maternity jeans on.

“What are you suggesting, Brother?” Klaus asked with a hard voice.

“I’m not suggesting anything, Niklaus, other than I understand running an empire can be time consuming and I do not want my one and only friend to feel neglected.” Elijah answered.

And there it is. Katie thought to herself as she pulled her white racer back tank top over her head. “If Katie has ever felt neglected she has failed to let me know.”

Katie grabbed her leather jacket from where it had been thrown over the screen as she walked around it. “Alright stop it, both of you.” Both of the men looked at her as she shrugged on her jacket. “I’ve never felt neglected.” She told Klaus then looked at Elijah. “I appreciate your concern and if something comes up and he can’t accompany me to the festival I’ll take you up on your offer.” She looked at Klaus who was opening his mouth to object. “And I’ll ask you not to get jealous because I’ve never actually managed to stay friends with an ex and I really need to learn how to navigate it.” she turned her eyes to Elijah, “We both do.” She heard Klaus sigh and looked back at him. “Cool?”

“Yes.” He answered with an I-don’t-like-it sigh.

She smirked. “Thank you. Now if you two don’t mind I have a costume to shop for with my future sister-in-law.” She said jokingly as she left the brothers behind.

TVDTVDTVD

“So what does your dream wedding dress look like?” Rebekah asked as they looked through the markdown dresses on the rack outside the bridal shop.

“Have you heard of Pnina Tornai?” Katie asked.

“Yes, I love her.” Rebekah said with a smile. “I have yet to see a dress she’s designed that I didn’t like.”

“It’s one of her custom ball gowns.” Katie added then sighed as she got to the end of the rack of dresses. “Maybe it wasn’t meant for me to go to this festival.”

“No, nu uh, you’re getting out and having fun. Come.” Rebekah grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shop. By the time they were done they both had dresses that cost way too much for something they were going to wear to a street fair.

TVDTVDTVD

That evening Katie stood in the bedroom looking at herself in the white empire waist, chiffon, dress with tulle sleeves. Klaus walked up behind her and sat his hands on her hips as she clipped the birdcage veil into her hair. “You…are…jaw dropping.” Katie just smiled at him in the mirror. “Ready?”

“More than ready.” She answered as she spun around in his arms.

The two of them enjoyed the night without a hitch. Katie found herself falling in love with the city, with the jazz music, street artists, the good food and just the overall atmosphere. She found that not only did she love gumbo, but crawfish etouffee as well.

At the end of the night Katie fell into bed with Klaus, exhausted, but happier than she had been in a long time.

[jombocostello]

unsent letters (fugo x reader)

@skully-greg asked: Hey do you think you could write an angsty fugo fic. Where maybe the reader died and fugo still acts like they are still alive? Thanks!

hi! thanks for the request! it’s my first time writing for a part 5 guy, i hope you enjoy it!

It’s over. You can feel the strength melting from your limbs as you crash to the ground, with barely enough sense of mind to press a shaking hand to the wound in your midsection. Giorno’s voice is soft, though you can hear how it scratches as he screams your name, and you tilt your head back.

Giorno kneels beside you, and for a moment he looks like him. The thought is stupid, and you nearly laugh. You can’t feel your body anymore.

“Hold on,” Giorno urges you, taking your hand and holding it tightly. “I’ll fix you.”

“You can’t -“ your voice is so heavy “- you can’t fix me. Not now.” Mista joins the two of you. He looks down at you with wide, teary eyes.

“Hang on,” he hisses, grabbing your arm and squeezing. You wouldn’t have known if you weren’t looking at his hand digging into your skin. “You’ll be fine, just stay here.”

Your mind is drifting, back and forth and all over the place. Death isn’t on your mind, to be honest - but he is. “If you see him again,” you start, almost startled by how hard it is to speak. “Tell him -“ You think for a moment and honestly, nothing’s coming to you. As annoyed as you are, you’re forced to settle with the cliché. “Tell him I love him. And that nothing was his fault.”

Mista starts to yell, starts to insist that you’ll be alright, but Giorno cuts him off. “I will,” he says firmly, holding eye contact with you as well as he can. “We’ll find him and I’ll tell him. Don’t worry, (Y/N).”

You smile faintly, reaching out and taking Giorno’s other hand. Your body feels light as a feather, and the last thing you see is Giorno’s tight, determined smile.

——

Life is shit. Your life is shit, the world is shit, it’s all shit. That’s what you decide as you stomp down the city streets, away from family and friends and anyone who would try to convince you otherwise.

You just can’t take routine anymore. It makes you sick, being told what to do and how exactly to do it. You need spontaneity in your life, and you need it now.

So fortunately, you run directly into a tall young man with striking silver hair. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, backing up and looking at the guy.

He’s got a soft face. Not very striking, but pretty. He blinks, surprised, and quickly dusts off his jacket. “No worries,” he says. Worry flits through his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply. “Just glad I didn’t ruin your cool suit or anything.” You grin, and he smiles almost bashfully. It is a cool suit - bright red.

“Are you - are you lost or anything?” You raise your eyebrows when the guy keeps talking to you instead of continuing on his way. He sounds nearly hopeful, as if he wants to guide you around town.

“Nah, I definitely know my way around here.” He nods slightly and starts to turn, but something you’re not quite aware of makes you reach out and grab his arm. He turns back, startled, and you just shrug with a little smile on your face. “Where are you headed? I’m not going anywhere in particular, so if you don’t mind me tagging along...”

A grin spreads across his face, and he almost instantly nods. “Yeah! That’d be fine. I’m just heading to a restaurant down the street a ways.” You smile brightly. “Follow me.”

You walk in step with the guy, looking up at him. He only holds your gaze for a couple seconds at a time, which makes you smile. “What’s your name?” he asks as you turn a corner.

“(Y/N),” you answer. “And you?”

“Fugo.” He looks down at you with a soft smile, and then reaches for your hand. You shake it, grinning. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Nice to meet you too!” He lets go and you continue on your way.

“So what are you up to, wandering aimlessly through Naples?” he asks you with a little laughter in his voice.

“Looking for something to do, somewhere to live... Anything, really.”

This makes Fugo pause, and you nearly run into him. “You - you don’t have a home?” he asks quietly.

“Well, I - “ You’re not sure how to describe it. “I do, but it’s not all that great and I’m fucking sick of it. I’m just looking for something to give my time to right now.”

Fugo’s eyes light up, and you blink; that wasn’t what you were expecting. “That’s so great, (Y/N),” he says, grabbing your hand. He starts dragging you along as he speaks. “My friend is going to have exactly the thing for you!” He starts explaining who this friend is, but you can’t understand much through the wind rushing past your ears as he pulls you down the street. You feel laughter bubble up in your chest as you watch Fugo run so enthusiastically with you by his side.

Pretty quickly, he stops. You’re standing in front of a high-end restaurant, one that you’ve admired but never set foot in. Fugo rushes ahead of you and opens the door, gesturing for you to enter. You bow your head and thank him with a silly grin on your face, and he follows you inside. He takes you to a table in the back room, which is pretty impressive to you.

There’s a man sitting at the table that Fugo gestures to. He has black, neat hair and he wears a sharp white suit. He looks up when Fugo calls his name - Bruno - and he smiles kindly at you. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Bruno Bucciarati. I see Fugo has invited you here?”

“Yep! Met him about five minutes ago and I like him already.” You throw him a smile as you sit down across from Bruno. “I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.”

He gently shakes your hand over the table. “Pleasure to meet you too.” You only now notice that a plate of food sits before him. “Would you like anything?” he asks, with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Oh, uh... Sure!” Fugo sits down beside you, and Bruno catches the attention of a waiter. He gets two more orders of his meal and then turns to you. “So,” you ask, “how do you and Fugo know each other?”

Fugo answers the question quickly. “We work together,” he explains.

“Oh.” So this is a mob thing, you realize. Just the perfect thing for you right now. “Well, Bruno...” As you speak, the food arrives and is placed before the two of you. “I’ll join.”

He blinks, surprised, and Fugo turns to look at you with wide eyes. “What do you mean, exactly?” Bruno asks, a confused smile on his lips.

“I’ll join your gang. That’s what this is, isn’t it? An invitation?”

Bruno laughs a little under his breath and looks to Fugo. “You’ve got a good eye, Fugo,” he says. He turns back to you. “I’m the leader of a small team, working under the Italian mafia. If you’re sure - completely sure - then we’d love to have you join us. There’s three of us now, and you’d make four.”

You lean back and take a bite of your food. “...Sounds good to me,” you reply with a wide grin. “Fugo, thank you for this. I think it’s gonna be good for me.”

He smiles at you, sweetly and genuinely, and you shake his hand. It’s the beginning of something great, you’re sure of it.

——

It takes Giorno, Mista, and Trish four long days to find Fugo. He’s sitting on a bench on a quiet street in Naples, with his arms folded tightly over his chest. His hair is oddly unkempt. The three of them stand at the street corner, arguing over who should approach him, until finally Trish agrees to do it.

“...Hey.” She walks over to him and waves slightly. He glances up and nearly turns away, until he realizes who he’s looking at. He jumps out of his seat and looks past her, spotting Giorno and Mista.

“Hi,” he says finally, focusing back on Trish. “I guess you did it.”

“Yeah.” She nearly laughs, mostly due to nerves. “Well, Giorno did it. I guess he’s leading the organization now.”

Fugo exhales and uncrosses his arms. “I can’t believe it.” Trish wonders for a moment if he’s going to apologize, but he doesn’t. She’s glad; she doesn’t want an apology. She completely understands. “So where is everyone?”

Giorno and Mista join her now, greeting Fugo quickly. “Hey,” he says weakly, lifting a hand in greeting. “Where’s everyone else?”

The way everyone’s face falls tells Fugo everything he needs to know. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut, and he staggers back a few steps. “I’m sorry,” Mista offers quietly, but it does nothing at all.

Fugo stares out at the street with wide eyes. “...They’re gone. (Y/N)’s gone. Fuck, they...” He clenches his fist and slams it down onto the bench, making Trish jump. “Were they in pain?” he asks. Giorno starts to open his mouth, but Fugo cuts him off. “Don’t answer that. God, I should’ve been there.” His eyes have been welling up with tears and they start to spill, dripping down onto his pants. “I should’ve fucking been there.”

Mista had been afraid to tell Fugo what happened; he knows better than the others how frightening Fugo’s temper is. He’d honestly expected at least a punch, but Fugo’s exercising a shocking restraint right now. He hugs his arms around himself and leans forward, staring at the ground and shutting himself off. Mista tentatively places a hand on his shoulder, and to his surprise Fugo doesn’t shrug him away. They stand like that for a while as Fugo quietly sobs.

After a few minutes, Fugo raises his head and brushes his hair from his face. He looks horribly pained. “...Will you take me back?” he asks lowly, refusing to meet Giorno’s eyes. “I was a coward.”

Giorno speaks softly as he answers. “Of course we will. We want you with us, Fugo.” (Y/N)’s last words are in the forefront of his mind, but he doesn’t divulge them. He wants to do it when Fugo is in a better state of mind.

Trish extends a hand towards Fugo, hunched over on the bench, and hesitantly he takes it. As he stands with her help, he feels another sob rise in his throat, but he pushes it down. He can hardly think straight.

Trish keeps her hold on his hand, while Mista wraps his arm over Fugo’s shoulder. Giorno leads the three of them back to their car, and they walk towards the sunset in silence.

——

You’ve been in the gang for three months now, and to be honest, they’ve been the best three months of your life. It’s you, Fugo, Bruno, the ever-brooding Abbacchio, and some kid Fugo found named Narancia. They’re all great people, and you’ve grown into an odd little family.

Of course, you still have to do work. You’d been shot by the stand arrow like everyone else, and came out with a useful new power. You’ve always been a brash person, so your stand, The Boxer, comes as no surprise to you. Its ability to predict an opponent’s next attack, and the supernaturally powerful boxing gloves that accompany that ability, have saved your ass on many occasions.

You find yourself in the middle of a job right now, along with Fugo and Abbacchio. Abbacchio used his Moody Blues to find where the guys you were chasing had gone, and he went to get one while you and Fugo teamed up to catch the other two.

You run down the street as quickly as your feet will carry you, squinting through the darkness. You pass a streetlight and gasp when you make out the figure of one of your enemies standing a ways away, with what’s definitely a gun in his hand. Next to you, Fugo sucks in a breath and grabs your arm.

Determined as ever, you summon your stand and try to run at the guy, but Fugo grabs you and yanks you back. You turn to him, adrenaline coursing through you, and frown. “I’ve got him, don’t worry,” you mutter, turning around and summoning your stand. “Let me go.”

“No!” he shouts, and you whip your head back. His eyes are wide and he looks more frightened than you’ve ever seen him. “We’ve gotta lay low until we can surprise him.” In the distance, you can see the guy approaching. He’ll be close enough to shoot soon.

“Fugo, I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got this.” You wrench your arm from his grip and run at the man, stand ready. You know, thanks to your stand, that he’s going to fire a shot at your left shoulder. What you can’t predict, though, is his own stand that somehow freezes you and prevents you from dodging his bullet.

“Fuck!” you shout, trying your best to move out of the way, but the bullet whizzes towards you and you can only watch it. You can’t turn around to look, but you hope that Fugo’s taken cover. This is a hell of an enemy. You screw your eyes shut, waiting for the bullet to hit, but instead of a burning pain you feel a hand wrap around your arm.

Fugo yanks you into a nearby alley, and you watch as the bullet intended for you grazes his arm. He bites back a scream and collapses next to you, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. You straighten yourself and immediately reach out to try and help him, tearing off a part of your sleeve to staunch his bleeding.

“Jesus, Fugo,” you breathe, pressing the fabric into his arm. He lets out a strangled cry and you jump. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He squeezes his eyes shut and leans against the wall. “You... You'll be okay.”

“I know,” he hisses, pushing the fabric tighter over his wound. “Just a graze, I’ll be fine.” He opens his eyes and looks up at you, and you’re struck by the intensity of his gaze. “I sent Purple Haze after him. They’ll be dead soon.”

Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Okay.” You know Fugo hates using his stand, but it’s really the only option the two of you have at this point.

“We shouldn’t go out until my stand comes back,” he tells you lowly. You nod again. He takes a shallow, shaky breath and you watch him.

You might be in love with Fugo. A week or so ago, you’d gone to Abbacchio to talk to him about your feelings, which in retrospect wasn’t the greatest idea. You told him that you liked Fugo a lot, and being around him, listening to him talk about the weird, scholarly things that interested him, fighting alongside him - all of it made your heart beat a little too fast and your face go red.

Abbacchio told you rather bluntly that this was love you were experiencing, and you should tell Fugo. You’re a blunt person yourself, so rather than being embarrassed, you were delighted to have a word to put to your feelings and you couldn’t wait to tell Fugo how you felt. You and Abbacchio painstakingly planned a confession and decided on the ideal time and place. It was going to be perfect, and hopefully Fugo would feel the same.

All of that has been thrown out the window by what just happened. You reach out and hold his free hand, and he manages a shaky smile. “Thank you,” you say, loud enough to be heard over his ragged breathing. “You saved me out there.”

“I - “ he squeezes your hand and grits his teeth “ - I couldn’t let them hurt you.” You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Fugo glances away, seeming afraid to meet your eyes. Fuck a plan. You love him, and you need him to know now.

You reach out and move his hair from his forehead. His face is hot and sweaty. As you tuck his hair behind his ear, he watches you, looking confused. “I...” You feel oddly nervous; it isn’t like you. You take a deep breath and try again. “I think I - I love you.”

The shift in his expression is your answer. He grins, despite the pain, and that’s all you need. You lean down and kiss him, gently and as lovingly as you can, and after a moment of shock, Fugo wraps his good arm around you and kisses back. You part and look at him, and the bliss on his face nearly makes you melt. “I’m so glad,” he breathes, and you hug him. He yelps when you accidentally touch his wound, and you apologize profusely before moving your hand and trying again. After you part, you sit hand in hand and wait for his stand to return.

It does after a few minutes, and you help Fugo stand. “Thank you again,” you say. “That was quite a sacrifice for me. Holy shit.”

“I’d do it again,” he says, completely serious, and you feel your eyes well up with tears. You press a kiss to his cheek and turn away to look for Abbacchio. Fugo’s hand finds yours, and you grin.

——

Living with Giorno in his giant new house is...odd. Fugo’s used to cramped, hurriedly chosen living quarters after being with the organization for so long. Now he’s at the top of the food chain and it feels horribly foreign.

Mista and Trish help out a lot. Mista becomes a sort of bodyguard to the new don, and Trish has decided to stay and help Giorno out with anything she can. She’s very diplomatic, she’s discovered. She often sits in on his meetings and contributes when she can.

Fugo doesn't leave his room. When he does, it’s for food or books. He reads about two books a day, about pretty much anything - it’s a huge distraction to keep his mind off of you, but he’s scared to admit that. Giorno wishes him a good morning through the door every day to no answer. A couple times, Mista’s heard furniture being thrown around.

After a couple weeks, Mista pulls Giorno aside after a meeting. “Hey, I was wondering if we could talk for a minute,” he says quietly. “Alone.” He casts a glance at Mr. Polnareff, their new turtle associate.

Giorno nods. “Sure.”

They step out of the room and Mista leans against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m worried about Fugo.”

“So am I.” Giorno furrows his brow and looks down. “I don’t really know what to say to him that won’t hurt. You know him better, maybe you could - “

“Giorno.” He looks up, eyebrows raised. “Anything either of us say is going to hurt like hell. There’s no way it won’t.” It’s hardly noticeable, but Mista’s jaw tenses. “I miss them too. It makes me feel sick, thinking about them and Abbacchio and Narancia and Bruno. They should be here.” He exhales, letting his face relax. “But they’re not. And I can’t let Fugo waste away in that room, hanging on to all that guilt.”

Giorno feels his shoulders sag, and he leans against the opposite wall in the tight hallway. “I still think he’d rather talk to you,” he says after a moment of silence. “My showing up was kind of the catalyst for all this shit.”

Mista sighs, pushes himself away from the wall, and nods his head. “Yeah. Fine.” He heads down the hall and Giorno watches him go.

A couple timid raps on the door is all Mista can manage. He prays that Fugo answers. After no response, Mista clears his throat. “It’s Mista. Can we talk?”

He waits for a minute until he hears shuffling past the door. Fugo opens the door and pokes his head out, and he looks terrible. Mista has to try not to make a face. “Hey,” Mista says. “You have a minute to talk?”

“Mhm.” Fugo opens the door wider and Mista slides in. It doesn’t look as bad as he was expecting; aside from some dinged-up furniture, it’s relatively neat. He sits on the desk chair, while Fugo sits on the bed. “What is it?” Fugo asks. His voice sounds tired.

“I just wanted to ask you how you’re doing. Sorry, but I’m gonna assume the answer is not very good.” Fugo opens his mouth but then shuts it, settling for a curt nod. “If there’s anything I can do for you just tell me. I care a lot about you, Fugo.”

“Thanks.” Fugo clenches his fists and rests them on his legs. “I just don’t know what to do. (Y/N)’s all I think about. I feel... I feel like my heart’s being pulled out of my chest when I think about them - which is all the time, and I - I just can’t do it anymore.” He raises his left hand and runs it harshly through his silver hair. “How do you do it? You were so close to everyone. Why aren’t you a wreck right now?”

Mista isn’t sure how to answer that; honestly, it hasn’t been something he’s had to think about. It’s just happened naturally, and having Giorno and Trish around has helped a lot. “Well...” He rests his chin in his hand and thinks. “I guess I think a lot about what they would be doing if they were still here. What they would think about all this. (Y/N) would be fuckin’ stoked to be living in the boss’ old mansion, don’t you think?”

Thankfully, Fugo lets go of a little smile. “Yeah, they would, huh?” He looks at the far wall. “I consider that too, but it really doesn’t help. All I can think is that they’d be disgusted by the coward I am.”

“No! Jesus, no. You’re not a coward, Fugo. You were just being rational. I swear, no one ever held it against you.” Mista glances at the desk he’s sitting at, and he catches sight of a pile of books. “Been doing lots of reading, I see.”

“Yeah.” Fugo stands up and grabs the book on top of the pile. “I grabbed this one without really thinking, and it’s not even a book. Just a blank journal.” He opens the leather bound book and shows Mista the worn, empty pages. “I’ll put it back and get something else later.”

Suddenly, Mista is struck by a stroke of genius. He’s delighted; he doesn’t usually have great ideas like this. “Don’t give it back,” he tells Fugo, taking the journal. “Why don’t you write about how you’re feeling?”

Fugo makes a face. “...What?”

“Well, just keep a journal. Write about your day, how you feel, how you’re coping... I know you don’t really like talking about how you feel, so maybe it would feel good to write it out. For your eyes only.”

Fugo takes the book back and holds it for a moment, silent. The more he considers it the better it sounds. It’s a good outlet for all the shit raging in his mind, so why not? “Yeah,” he finally says, setting it down. “That’d be good.”

Mista smiles widely, standing up and suddenly wrapping his arms around Fugo. “Glad to hear it,” he says, patting him on the back. Fugo cringes a bit at the over-the-top gesture, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows he means well.

Mista starts to leave, but as he’s halfway through the door, Fugo stops him. “Hey, Mista.” He glances over. “Would it be... Would it be weird to write them letters? I know they’re gone, it’s just... It was always so easy to talk to (Y/N). So seeing their name at the top of the page would be nice, I think.”

Mista’s expression softens, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” He waves at Fugo and shuts the door.

Fugo sits at the desk and snatches up a pen. He’s struck by inspiration. He opens up the journal and scrawls ‘Dear (Y/N)’ at the top of the page, and as he moves to the next line, he finds himself getting choked up. He tries not to get too melancholy as he scribbles out everything that’s happened in the last few weeks.

He winds up filling three pages, and as he shuts the book, he can almost feel a weight lift from his shoulders. He stands up and brushes out his hair, then walks outside to get another book from the expansive library the boss left behind.

Fugo sleeps well for the first time in weeks that night.

——

You can’t stop moving. Your foot bounces impatiently against the floor of your little boat, and your right hand dances nervously along your knee. Fugo sits beside you with his arm wrapped tightly around you. He isn’t as outwardly anxious as you are, but you’re sure he’s worried.

Bruno’s been gone for too long. You two are the only ones who seem to care; Mista and Narancia are arguing over food as they often do, Giorno is sitting on the steps with Bruno’s laptop, and Abbacchio is cussing him out for doing that. For everyone else, it’s business as usual.

Your foot thumps loudly against the boat, making you jump a bit. Fugo notices too, and looks at you. “Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, clasping your hands. “Just felt weird for a second.”

“Me too.” You look up at Abbacchio when he speaks. “I forgot what I was doing for a moment.”

Giorno clears his throat, and almost instantly Abbacchio glares at him. “There’s something going on here,” he announces. You watch him stand up and rush past everyone with an urgency that tells you something is very wrong. You stand and watch him go, wondering if you should follow him, but Fugo grabs your hand.

“He’ll be back,” he says when you look down at him. He doesn’t sound at all sure of that.

Narancia is the first to approach the mansion after a few minutes. On tip-toes, he walks silently towards the door with the rest of you on his heels. As he’s about to summon Aerosmith to survey the area, Bruno’s laptop lands on the ground in front of you with a ‘clang.’

“Giorno!” Abbacchio shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. He gets no response. “Goddamn idiot,” he mutters as he snatches up the laptop. “The hell’s going on in there?”

Narancia frowns and peers down the long hallway. “Whatever it is, I hope they’re alright - “

Giorno and Bruno barrel past the group, all but collapsing on the stairs by the boat. Bruno’s clothes are covered in blood and your heart jumps into your throat, but after a moment you can tell that Giorno has patched up his wounds. Giorno carries Trish in his arms; she’s unconscious. Why isn’t she inside...?

You approach the two of them and kneel down, helping Giorno lift up Trish. “What the fuck happened in there?” you ask him, eyes wide as he stands up.

Bruno speaks instead. “The boss isn’t who I thought he was.” You stand up and take a couple steps back, joining the others. “I understand how naive that sounds, but I just can’t justify going through with what he asked.”

Narancia looks uneasily at Trish’s body, leaning against the boat. “What - what did he ask you to - “

“He wanted to kill her.” Giorno’s voice is much steadier than Bruno’s. “He had us protect her so he could kill her himself. She’s the only person alive who could reveal his identity.”

Bruno nods. “He wanted her dead, but we managed to get her and run. I suppose... I suppose that makes us traitors.” You hear  Fugo swallow from beside you, and your hand finds his.

“Now this isn’t an order. I’m not even asking. I’m just telling you that if you choose to go with us on our mission to overtake the boss - “ this elicits another reaction from Fugo “ - then get in the boat. I’ll never hold it against you if you don’t. You would be completely justified in not wanting to risk your life like this.”

A silence falls over the group. You all look at each other, unsure of what to say. Fugo seems frozen in fear. You watch as Abbacchio takes a step forward, confidently stepping into the boat. He looks as comfortable as ever.

“I like being with you, Bucciarati,” he says. “I’ll follow you. I’ve got nothing to lose.” Giorno looks surprised and delighted, and Bruno just gives him a soft smile.

There’s more silence, as you all glance nervously at one another. Mista is the next one to go, with his usual self-assured smile. “I trust you,” he says to Bruno. “And you,” he adds with a look to Giorno. “We’ll get it done, I’m sure.”

Now it’s just you, Fugo, and Narancia on the side of the organization. “You’re crazy,” Fugo breathes, and you turn to him. “You can’t go against the group. You know what happens to traitors - Jesus, Bruno, you have to know!” He's raised his voice and you tighten your grip on his hand. He’s scared out of his mind, you can tell.

“Yes, but - I can’t let this go. It wouldn’t sit right with me at all. I wish I could turn a blind eye but I can’t.”

Fugo glares over at the new traitors. “Oh, you’ve always been high and mighty like this. I mean - come on, you don’t even know her!” He tears his hand from yours to gesture at Trish, unconscious. “And you’re gonna risk everything you’ve built up? You could be the boss, Bucciarati, I know you could!”

Hearing this seems to sadden Bruno, and he looks down. “I don’t want to be the boss of this.”

You look at Narancia now, and he’s utterly terrified. He looks to you with tear-filled eyes and asks, “What should I do? (Y/N), what are you going to do?”

You clear your throat, looking at Fugo. “I - I’m gonna...” The words die in your throat as you turn to the rest of your gang. They’re not expecting anything of you, and you realize that, but you cannot let this go. You won’t work for the organization that tried to murder an innocent girl.

You’re impulsive about everything; you suppose this is no different. “Fugo,” you say softly, holding both of his hands. “I’m gonna go.”

His face twists into an expression of pure fear, and you press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back. I’m not gonna die, you know me. I’ll be fine and we’ll all be fine.” You kiss him again, on the lips this time, but he doesn’t reciprocate it. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

He stares into your eyes, and he’s shaking. “You know that’s not true,” he whispers. “You won’t come back, God, you’ll die out there.” He sinks into your arms, and you hold him steadily. Over the top of his head you meet Narancia’s eyes, and he still looks horrified.

“I will.” You kiss the top of his head and take a deep breath. “I’d never leave you if I wasn’t sure.” You’re not sure - but it feels good to say that. “Bye, Fugo. I love you.” It’s true, and it almost hurts to say.

He mumbles, “I love you,” into your shoulder and you manage a smile. You gently untangle your arms from his and lean in, kissing him tenderly one more time. He finally kisses back, holding onto you like a lifeline. “Just be careful,” he mutters.

“I will.” You separate from him and sit down in the boat, sucking in a deep breath. You can feel hot tears in your eyes, and you let them spill as Bruno starts the boat. Fugo and Narancia stand frozen on the steps, and as you watch their figures shrink, you stand up and wave. “I love you!” you shout as loud as you can, and you can just barely make out a smile on Fugo’s face.

You’re shocked when not a second later, Narancia leaps into the water and begins swimming after the boat. “Bucciarati, turn around!” you yell to him, watching Narancia swim. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He sees Narancia and slows to a halt, and you and Mista pull him up into the boat.

“Jesus, dude,” Mista says with a laugh as he pats Narancia on the back. “Glad you’re joining us.”

He grins uneasily and looks to you, and you reach out and clap a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be good, so don’t worry,” you say, and he trusts you.

You turn back to the mansion one last time, and what you see makes your heart ache. Fugo hadn't expected to be the only one, you can tell from his expression - he looks destroyed. You know you can’t turn back but you want more than anything to be with him. You wave one last time, and he looks up from his terrified haze to wave back.

As you turn around, crying silently, you notice Trish stir in her place at the back of the boat. You crawl over to her and smile gently, taking her hand. It’s been reattached with Sticky Fingers - holy shit. You hold it gently as she wakes. “Hey,” you say with a little grin. “You’re gonna be fine.” She smiles back, and you suddenly feel a lot better about your choice.

——

A couple more weeks have passed, and Fugo’s still writing daily letters. Mista had been right; he’s able to get all his feelings out without having to actually talk about them to anyone, which is such a relief for him. Of course he never receives an answer, but he’s getting better about thinking about you. It hurts a little less now.

He starts helping Giorno, too. He’s incredibly well-read so he’s very useful with deals and negotiations, and Giorno is endlessly grateful for the help. They’re a team to be reckoned with; they’ve taken down businessmen twice their age with their combined intellect.

One day, Fugo sits at his desk, halfway through a book that he thinks he might have already read in law school. There’s a knock at the door, and Fugo looks up. “Come in.”

It’s Giorno. He steps inside and sits down on the bed, folding his hands in his lap. “Hi,” he says.

“Hey.” Fugo dog-ears his page and shuts the book, turning in his seat. “What is it? Did you need help with something?”

Giorno shakes his head. “No, nothing like that.” He seems a little nervous, which in turn makes Fugo nervous. Giorno’s always so assured; this isn’t like him. “It’s about (Y/N).”

Giorno’s expecting Fugo to be upset at your name, but to his surprise, he just shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “...What about them?” he asks softly.

“They wanted me to tell you - well their last words were for you,” Giorno tells him, all in one breath. Fugo tenses, and he just nods to tell Giorno to keep going. “They said that none of it was your fault.” Fugo nearly cracks a smile at that; you’ve always tried to pull him out of his pit of self-deprecation. He thinks he’s been getting better at it. “And then they said they love you.”

Fugo exhales and stands up in a rush, making Giorno jump. He wraps his arms tightly around Giorno and holds him, burying his head in the crook of his neck. Giorno returns the embrace, rubbing circles into Fugo’s back. “Thank you,” he whispers, hardly audible. “You and Mista and Trish. Thank you for everything.”

Giorno nods. “Of course.” Fugo leans back and smiles at him, as genuinely as he ever has. Giorno stands, brushing the wrinkles out of his pitch-black suit. “We’re having a meeting at five with the guys I told you about, okay?”

“Yeah.” Fugo watches Giorno leave as he sits back down at his desk. “See you then.”

Giorno smiles at him before shutting the door.

Fugo turns and grabs his journal, flipping it open as quickly as he can. He grabs his pen and writes out the header, then scrawls out his message. He reads it, again and again, then gently sets down his pen and stands to get ready for the meeting. The book lays open on his desk as he combs through his hair.

Dear (Y/N),

I love you too.