#To split it and none of them said it was theirs so? Maybe it was from my grandparents who live on the other side of the house.

[just-let-me-see-accounts]

Okay yes I am going to continue on with my day but!! Small update. It turns out that baby (toddler aged but we don't want to change his name) broke my glasses last night. I couldn't see well on account of not having glasses and it being dark so I thought he just popped the lense out.

This explains why my mum was acting so morose. Popped lenses aren't a big deal, I just gotta find them, which I did when I woke up. But like, no, the frame is broken.

Sigh. Oh well. I have an optometry appointment on the 14th and they'll give me free glasses sometime after that. Dunno how long after, though. Whatever, I can go without regardless. I'll bother them about what my prescription is too so I can get some glasses off zennioptical (thought they would just tell me when I went to the optometrist for the first time so I didn't get it. It's outdated now, anyhow).

Hmm. I should try to find my other glasses. I stopped wearing them because they were more uncomfortable than the other ones. No idea where it is right now, though. Oh well, even if I don't find it I can go without.

Rip bozo

[vanishingstarrs]

decode

eijiro kirishima x reader, secret admirer trope, soft vibes, sfw

( do u guys prefer these drabbles to be longer ? shorter ? split into multiple parts ?? pls feel free to let me know !! <3 )

For weeks all you could think about were the little notes folded up into hearts that you’d been finding in your locker every day.

The first one appeared over a month ago and stated: you look badass in your new costume.

You’d been pretty insecure when submitting in the new design for your hero suit and despite all your friends encouragement you still felt a bit out of place among the rest of your classmates, who always looked confident and powerful in theirs.

You weren’t expecting anything, but the next day another fell out when you went to grab a textbook in between classes and it said— that new move was impressive, your improvement and dedication amazes me each day.

And the next day.

have a great day, gorgeous

And the next.

you were awesome in that training exercise

And more.

that test was rough, hope you did better than i did— your concentrating face is cute btw <3

you kicked bakugo’s ass today (and looked hot doing it), it was great!

you’re so strong and pretty

They continued every day to the point where you had finally called an emergency meeting with your friends, you laid back on Momo’s luxurious bed with a sigh,“I have no clue, who could it be? It has got to be someone in our class with the way they know so much, but…”

“But…?” Kyoka urged you on.

Another sigh left your lips, and you couldn’t help scrunch up your face as you looked at your friends,“None of the boys in our class seem to give off secret admirer potential, what if it’s just some sick prank one of them is doing?”

“For that long?” Momo questioned before shaking her head,“I don’t know, not even our guys seem capable of something so cruel.”

“Maybe you just haven’t given the right one the chance to step up?” Ochaco offered up.

“I mean what are her options?” Mina snorted, she held a list of all the guys in their class.

You guys had gone through and already crossed off a couple that were definite no’s, people like Mineta, Sero, and Kaminari who were self proclaimed “ladies men”. You considered that it might be one of the quieter boys, maybe Kirishima or Todoroki, even Ojiro.

You had reassured Ochaco that Midoriya wasn’t even a possibility, considering the boy was loud and open about his admiration for others and could tell she was relieved when you did.

You shrugged, having gone over any interactions with the boys in your class multiple times. “I don’t know, I’m not really close with any of them… I mean I sit next to Kaminari and Kirishima so I guess they’re my friends? But Kaminari has eyes on a new girl every day and I could swear Kirishima had told me about…”

“Who?!” All four girls sat up impatiently.

“No one.” You smirked,“I don’t spill your guys’ private conversations.”

“Boooo!” Toru threw a crumbled up piece of paper at you.

You opened up your latest two notes.

golden hour looks breathtaking on you

you’ve officially taken up a permanent residence in my mind, i think of you all day long…

“Wait!” Jiro stood up suddenly, snatching one note along with her as she began digging around in her backpack.

“Hey!” You pouted, but she shushed you.

“I know how we’ll solve this mystery.” She pulled out a notebook from class.

“How?!” Ochaco asked excitedly.

You almost didn’t want to know, what if you confronted the person and it went awry?

“Okay, so last week I asked Shouji to borrow some notes for a lecture I wasn’t really listening to and look!”

All five of you leaned forward to look at the notebook and the messy scrawl on the page.

“His penmanship is quite poor.” Momo pointed out and you silently agreed.

Jiro rolled her eyes,“Not why I’m showing you guys this, what I’m getting at is that we can just ask all the boys to write something down and compare their handwriting to the notes!”

“Genius!” Mina shot up,“I was just thinking I was really hungry, we could tell them we’re ordering some takeout and have each individually write out if they want anything.”

“Perfect, we should split up and do it quick.” Ochaco agreed.

Your heartbeat picked up and you anxiously wrung your hands,“Okay, but also can we actually order food? I eat when I’m nervous and right now I’m a wreck. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Girl, you got this!” Mina turned to you with a big, encouraging smile and you returned it, albeit not as bright as hers. “Let’s find this guy!”

The group quickly agreed and everyone split up to take the class’s requests for dinner.

By the time you all met up in Momo’s room again, you were tense. You each had a note and several options to compare from, a few were easy to immediately knock off. You continued going down your list until you gasped, unable to help yourself as you met the gazes of your friends.

“What?!” Mina’s eyes bulged.

You swallowed,“I know who it is.”

Your friends all eyed the pieces of paper with matching handwriting and by the next day had convinced you to go up to the boy. You could feel their stares on you as you called out his name and beckoned him into the hall during homeroom period, asking if you could get his advice on something. You took a deep breath as you led him to a secluded window further down the hallway, mentally preparing yourself for denial.

“So what’s up?” He didn’t hesitate to follow you and ask,“You okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You shrugged,“I guess I’ve just been a little… anxious, I guess? Good anxious, but still anxious nonetheless. You see, I’ve been getting these notes in my locker ever since day but there’s no name attached to them so it’s just a little weird. I’ve been trying to figure out who it is, racking my brain like crazy.”

“Can I see one?” Kirishima asked.

“Sure, here’s today’s.” You handed him over the crisply folded sheet of notebook paper, one you could now recognize and knew was getting thinner by the pages being ripped out daily. The note read: i wish i could tell you who i am.

You could see him gulp and leaped to take your chance.

“To be honest, I’d just wanna thank the person. I’ve been struggling with some confidence issues lately and their notes every day have really been keeping my spirits up.” You turned toward the window and away from him with a sigh,“They must not think they’re brave enough to tell me, but they shouldn’t be scared of—”

“Y/N…”

You turned around immediately, eyes widening at the fact that he’d used your first name. Kirishima was standing pin straight, holding the note tight in one hand and you almost felt bad for pushing him… but you had to know if your suspicions were correct. Besides, you hadn’t been lying. You really did want to thank him for always making you smile every day.

“It’s… I wrote the notes, I’m the one who’s been sneaking them into your locker every day.” He bowed slightly,“I apologize for not being man enough to sign my name or just say all these things to your face, but I wasn’t sure of how you’d react or what you would think of me.”

“Eijiro.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised, eyebrows raised as he straightened himself up.

You smiled,“I knew it was you.”

“How…?”

You shrugged, smiling slightly,“A lady never reveals her secrets.”

This made him laugh.

“I’m sorry that I pushed you to confess, I just wanted to know if I was right and I’m glad that I was, glad that you were the one, that is.” You smiled at him,“Your notes are very sweet and I’ve enjoyed having them every day.”

As the bell rung and your classmates started filing out of class you realized your time had run out, you smiled at your friends who were giving you questioning looks. You motioned with your hand for them to move along, smiling bigger when Kirishima turned around to find them gone.

You brought his attention back to you when you spoke again,“Anyway, thanks again. I should get going, I’ve got to get to math and start studying, I’ve got a makeup coming up since I didn’t do all that great on the last exam.”

He nodded, seemingly speechless.

You couldn’t really wait for a response regardless as you rushed to pack up your things and head to your next class before the final bell rung.

You did your best to focus on the extra lessons your teacher was nice enough to give for students who’d been confused about the last test, but all you could do with think about Kirishima and whether he’d stop leaving his notes now that you knew it was him. You somehow managed to avoid him for the rest of the day, and when your friends asked about it all you could do was shrug. Nothing happened, you would say, and it was true.

Nothing happened.

Until the next day, that was.

You were headed to your locker a little earlier than usual, eager to get back to your studies when several notes fell out of your locker. Your face heated up as you rushed to pick them all up, opening the first one carefully.

Only a single word was written on the sheet of paper and you worked quickly in order to unfold the remains slips, reading through it several times just to make sure you weren’t imagining it. It read:

will

you

go

out

with

me?

— eijiro

You shut the locker, forgetting all about your textbook in favor of trying to find him instead. Which was made extremely easy because when you turned around, there he stood.

Eijiro Kirishima.

He held a bouquet of flowers in his arms, and you spotted a plushie of your favorite character in the center of the arrangement. You thought his eye might’ve twitched nervously as he gave you his best smile, you quickly returned it.

“I was just coming to find you.”

“You found me.” He chuckled as he took a few steps closer,“Y/N, would you please do me the honor of going out on a date with me?— it doesn’t have to be today, I know you signed up for the makeup exam in math tomorrow, and actually! If you’d like, that is, I can help you study. I think I know the material well now, and I guess what I’m trying to say is I’d love nothing more than to have the chance to be the man you deserve.”

“One condition.” You smiled, knowing there was no way you would’ve ever said no.

“Anything!” He agreed immediately.

You held up the unfolded hearts he always wrote his notes on,“I still get these every now and then, nonnegotiable, they really make my day.”

Eijiro’s cheeks went as red as his hair as he grinned big, nodding,“Every day.”

“Then yes, I would love to go on a date with you.” You accepted the bouquet he was holding out to you before leaning up slightly and placing a kiss on his cheek,“It’s beautiful, Eijiro, thank you.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

Now you were the one blushing, he’d used a nickname and you definitely liked it.

“You’re cute when you blush.” He complimented.

“Oh my god.” You tried to hide your face in the flowers, unable to stop the large smile from taking over your face.

He was quick to take them back out of your hands, as well as grabbing your book bag from you,“Better get used to it, princess, the notes were just a placeholder until I was able to man up enough to confess, but not a day will go by without a compliment from me, I can promise you that. And no more lugging around heavy textbooks when I’m here either.”

“Thank you, Eijiro.” You felt the blush move higher, your ears feeling warm now too.

“So, study date tonight?”

He’d never admit it, but he’d stayed up late last night going over the necessary chapters in order to be able to help you with your upcoming test. In truth, he had no clue how he passed over you, but he’d make sure it never happened again.

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you agreed,“Definitely.”

This time, he was the one to place a kiss onto your cheek as he led the way to homeroom, smiling— beautifully and unabashedly.

Princess treatment?

You could definitely get used to that.

[neverchecking]

NSFW Alphabet- Four

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's pretty good, all things considered! So, I like to write Four as one solid conscious until he splits, so saying that, like he's smart. He knows what he's doing. He's a little disoriented after he cums, but after a moment he's up and on the move. He also has a set routine but it's more because he likes the order he does things. He doesn't mean to, it just happens.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself? Honestly? His biceps. And I will take this to my fucking grave, but I, honest to God, whole-heartedly believe that this man has biceps of fucking iron. Have you seen a blacksmith's build? they have arms. And you know what? So does Four. So, his biceps are his favorite because they are also my favorite.

On his partner? He'll try to save face and say personality but this man screams thigh man. He loves thighs because he's face to face with them. Like adores them with his whole heart. When you sit down and they transform into plump pillows? He's in love. He loves squishing them and moving the flesh around in his grasp, but he fucking loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

*Looks around side to side before leaning in* This man, right here? You can try to tell me otherwise, but I won't believe you. Fucking loves cumming inside of you. He knows he's not tall, and he knows he's not the most outwardly intimidating, but holy shit does it give him a rush to know that no one else has the privilege of marking you so intimately. It drives him nutty, especially if you just go on your day like that. Like he can't sit still knowing you're there, pretty legs crossed because if they're not you're going to drip on the seat.

Just the thought has him hard.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Would love to fuck you in a skirt. There I said it. He would love to wear a silky skirt, bend you over the mattress and just destroy you. This man is both the biggest dom and hardest switch imo, but put him in a skirt and there's no question. Just <four in a skirt3

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Zero, zilch, nada. People never took him seriously enough with his height. Plus with smithing and his adventure he never really thought about it. Maybe I'm projecting, but I like to think of Four as a Demisexual (Source: I am a demisexual) so he didn't really have a sex drive until meeting someone he really liked.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. All the way, call him a traditionalist but he loves the eye contact and the fact that his height doesn't matter. Also, maybe, just maybe, he likes the domesticity of it all. He loves the idea of making you his perfect little house spouse. Even if you don't want it <3 Man i forget I'm a yandere blog so often it's not even funny.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can appreciate good joke. Of course, he's not gonna go looking to make one, but if you're visibly stressed, he'll crack a small one. Anything to make you smile, really. If you want to make a joke, he'll humor you of course as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed, one of the best. It's a little lighter than the hair on his head, but exceptionally fine. He keeps it well trimmed and washed. Again, it's not because he's crazy about neatness it mostly just feels better for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic, but, honestly, he doesn't have the chance to be as romantic as he wants to be. After being in the forge, he's tired and smells and while he wants to woo you, he just can't. Of course, that won't stop him from treating you like royalty, but there won't be any rose petals or candles.

Side bar, Four absolutely makes you one of those metal flowers. Yk the ones?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably a little more common than the rest of the Links, but its mostly because every time he thinks about you, especially if his thoughts wander, he gets hard and he can't get back to his work until his frustrations have been let out. Only reason really, if he had time, he'd rather fuck you in a nice quickie, but unfortunately that isn't realistic.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's got a thing for bondage. So okay, hear me out, he's a blacksmith right? Who works with metal right? So he probably can make chains right? surely you guys see where i'm going with this right? He likes BDSM purely because he loves seeing you bound in the chains he makes.

I think he's also got a bit of breeding kink. This goes back to part C, but it awakens something in him that's so primal. It just drives him insane and makes his nerves buzz because it's such an intimate way of claiming you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He's not picky. Not in the SLIGHTEST. Y'all have probably fucked in his forge. He's a man on a busy schedule, so he's taking what he can get when he can get it. He'll fuck in the bedroom, on the kitchen counter, on the living room floor, in the forge, behind a tree in the forest, under the rushing waters of a river, he's down for anything.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything. But something about having a significant other that works as well? Like not actual work, no, no he won't allow his most precious jewel to ever risk that, but things like cooking, cleaning, even writing blueprints or something for weapons you've had ideas about and want him to make-- because you aren't allowed to work in the forge it's too dangerous for you're perfect hands. That especially just drives him crazy because having a competent partner is just so attractive to him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sounding. If you don't know what that is, perfect. Don't look it up. If you do, I'm sorry for your loss. He doesn't like the idea of it, wants nothing near there, it's just like the biggest turn off to him. Shudders just thinking about it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Contrary to the other Links I've written, he prefers receiving. Just having his spouse on their knees while he's perfecting some plan or blueprint or polishing something, sucking him off while he works? Goddess, it's his favorite pastime. Just thinking about it has him palming himself until he can get to you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood, but most of the time it's fast and rough. He likes the thrill it gives him and the adrenaline rush. Plus, the fact that it renders you absolutely brain dead and mindless, just a hole for him to use is an added bonus.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. Adores them. He does 'em pretty often too because, like I said, they fit into his schedule the easiest. He's one of the only Links with a stable job so he does have a routine and schedule to stick to, meaning Quickies are perfect for him. He gets to remind you of how much he loves you and thinks about you and how much your very aura has intoxicated him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Loves them. So, here's the thing. Four is STILL a Link. He still loves the adventure, the thrill, the adrenaline. So the risks? The one that have him pausing, balls deep with a hand over your mouth to keep you from crying out? Get him so riled up he can't explain it because it just makes him that much more horny. Like, he is humping at you like a dog all while trying to keep himself quiet and you as well.

So yeah, he likes the risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Not the most, I'll be fair. Like I said, he's got a job, he's a blue collar man-- or the Hyrule equivalent-- and he's a hard working man. So he doesn't have all the energy in the world, but the energy he does have is put to good use, don't worry. He's a man who can't go for six rounds, but the rounds he does go has you feeling like he did.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Like I said, he likes chains. He's probably got a few spreader bars as well. Things made of metal you know? Maybe a few plugs he fiddled with. So he does have a few. And Four is the man who doesn't view toys as competition, no, no, they are his friends. His companions. His teammates. Everything needed to make you feel good. And that's all that matters to him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't have time to tease. He'd love to, and on days he has off he spends hours between your legs until you're a sobbing, pleading mess for him, but on the more regular days? Of course he does foreplay, but he doesn't have time for the slow traces of skin or small pinches of flesh.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's a whiner, but he hides it. But if you pull his head out from where he hides it in your shoulder? He's a whimpering mess, crying because you feel so good and at some point he becomes so sex drunk that it's all he can think about. And when that happens he can't help but cry for you <3

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves domesticity. Every part of it and I will fucking go down with this. He loves the idea of having his perfect little house spouse who's willing and waiting for his cock at any given moment. Who cares for the house, cooking and cleaning, while he goes to work to provide for both of them. He loves having a partner with intellect, of course, but having a partner be a house spouse while also putting their brain to good use? Oh he's feral.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Stealing this from Bea so thanks-

4.4 inches. Good sized balls, went over his hair already. Probably has a nice vein running up the underside of it that makes him just shatter when you run your tongue along it. Has him reaching for your hair just to stuff your mouth full.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but also not all if you know what i mean? Like when he has the time and energy he is all over you, you can't even go to the bathroom without him loudly complaining about how he misses you in his arms. On the other hand, when its been a long day, he likes just letting you cockwarm him like a good little slut <3

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He loves falling asleep with you because it's something so domestic to him (See W). He loves spooning you and burying his face into your hair, or chest, depending if you wanna be big spoon or lil spoon, and just feeling your chest slow as your breathing evens out. It's pure bliss to him and reminds him of why exactly he worships you.

Not that he ever needed a reason.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 15

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None

Hangovers and Hang-ups

Killer leaned against the wall of Kid's workshop while Kid took a closer look at your log pose. "What's your plan with her?" Killer had taken care of you until you passed out. He had thrown you over his shoulder and taken you to Kid's huge bathtub. He had thought about tucking you into his bed so you would be more comfortable; he knew you would have a raging hangover in the morning and Killer could always sleep in Kid's bed so you could have his room to yourself. As nice as he could be, and even after you treated him, he didn't want you to puke in his sheets, so he settled for a pillow and comforter thrown into the tub with you. It would be easier to clean if you threw up there. He felt bad about leaving you in clothes covered in now-stale beer, but he felt worse when he thought about taking them off, unable to shake the image of your mouth around his fingers while your eyes burned into his through the holes in his mask. It brought heat rushing up his neck thinking about it now.

Kid shrugged. "Wire said we have another week until we get ta the next island. Our deal was that she gets off there." He continued to tinker with the log pose. "If I still want to fuck her by then, I'll make her change her mind. We need a doctor anyway." 

"I think we need to figure out who she is before you think about keeping her on this ship, if she even wants to stay. You don't think it's odd that she won't tell anyone her name? That she can put up a fight?" Killer picked up your weapon that had been sitting on the corner of Kid's bench. It was a unique design, though he was certain he had seen something like it before. "Do you remember when we first started out, the time we got intercepted by marines?"

"Nah. Why?"

"No reason." It was fuzzy, yet the tool in his hands made Killer keep thinking back to that time. Something was there. He wanted to be sure before he brought it to Kid's attention. "If she doesn't want anyone to know her name, she must think we'll recognize it, which brings a few possibilities: she's from a rival crew, she's a marine, or she has a bounty. Maybe a combination of those. And then there's the separate matter of what she told me last night about not being able to swim. She might have a Devil Fruit." 

Kid cackled. "If Trafalgar or Strawhat had a bonnie lass like that on their crew, I would have kidnapped her in Sabaody. Those two losers haven't seen a tit in their lives. Wouldn't even know what ta do with pussy." Kid seemed pleased with himself, whether it was from his own jab or his tinkering was unclear. The log pose split into two halves in front of him. "What a shit log pose... If a marine has a name that big, they would be an admiral and she isn't one." Kid paused to think, "Don't we have some old bounty posters somewhere? Go through them with Heat and see if she's there." Kid looked at the dials more closely. "Killer, look at this." His took one off and flipped it upside down. 

Killer moved to the bench, setting your gun down. He picked up the pose's needle that Kid removed. "There's... a small piece of paper."

Kid took the other two needles off. "These too." The three needles on the table shifted, ever so slightly, in three separate directions.

"Those are vivre cards!" Killer was impressed with the ingenuity. It wasn't a real log pose at all, it was a tracker of sorts, and it seemed to be aimed at three people. Family? Friends? Or... enemies. 

"What a clever little bitch." Kid reassembled it so that you wouldn't know it had been tampered with. "No wonder she wanted it back so badly." Kid had been confused initially. He showed it to Wire, who compared it to their own log pose, and concluded that it was broken since the needles didn't point the same as theirs. 

"You mean no wonder she would tolerate fucking you for this long otherwise." Killer dodged a wrench launched in his direction.

Kid shoved the log pose in his pocket. He did say he would give it back. "DON'T BE JEALOUS!" 

"I'm not," Killer said in a teasing tone, getting ready to slip out the door.

Kid narrowed his eyes in his best friend's direction. "Did she fuck you?" He thought back to what you had said before emptying your stomach over the railing. "KILLER?!" 

The masked man left Kid's workshop with his captain's shouting trailing after him and a sly grin on his face. Killer thought it was fun to ruffle Kid's feathers and get him worked up. Killer knew Kid wouldn't be mad if he had fucked you; Kid simply liked keeping track of his playthings. And Killer also knew that Kid would have wanted to compare notes to make sure you weren't holding out on him. 

Grumbling, Kid examined your weapon. He had made some improvements to it so that it met his standards. Kid was going to present it to you at the party as a gift, but he decided at the last minute that would be lame. It didn't have anything to do with the scenarios in his head where you didn't like it that left his hands clammy. He wasn't even going to do much to it, but he ran out of things to do when Killer told him his helmet was fixed and that he didn't need a new one. That concerned Kid for two reasons: anyone but him would have to weld it back together and there were no weld marks. 

It fucking sucked waking up. You were sore from being in the hard tub all night, you were nauseated, and you had the worst headache of your life. For a while, you had turned on the hot water, still in clothes, and let it rain down on you after moving the pillow and sheets that Killer had left you out of the tub. There wasn't a lot that you remembered from last night other than winning a pair of pants, that you would be sure to collect on, and Killer holding your hair back when you got sick. How embarrassing... like a damn teenager.  You pulled yourself up with a groan, plopped the soaked dress on the floor, and washed all of last night off.

When you were drying off, you heard a soft knock from Killer's end of the bathroom. You hadn't noticed the first time, but the captain's room and the first mate's were joined by this bathroom, a door on each end. Throwing the sheets around your shoulders to cover yourself, you opened the door to Killer's towering frame. 

"You look like shit." 

You blinked at him, simultaneously offended and amused. "I feel like shit." 

He moved to let you walk past him. "You should drink some water."

You looked around. His room was more simple and less dark than Kid's. "Thank you, Dr. Massacre Soldier. I'll take that into consideration." It felt like an intrusion to sit directly on his bed. There weren't any chairs and he wasn't kicking you out though, so you sat on the floor next to the wall, bringing the sheet over your head to block the light. There was a creak as Killer's weight sank on his bed across from you.

"Wire says it'll be about a week before we reach the next island. What will you do then?"

The pounding in your head nearly drowned out his question. "Eager to get rid of me, huh?" 

"No one's making you leave."

"Not yet."

"You know, you don't have to be a smart-ass all the time. There's no need to be so defensive" Killer couldn't gauge your reaction under the sheet. "You think you're so special that we'll even give a shit who you are?" 

That made you laugh. "Well now you're just making me sound like an asshole." You uncovered your face to look Killer in the eyes, well, mask holes. "It's not about who I am. It's about who I used to be." 

"We've all done things we aren't proud of... except Kid. I don't think he has regrets." Killer offered. 

You sat up, pulling your knees in and burying your face in them. "The thing is... I was proud of it. Until I learned my career was a sham. Wasted part of my life doing..." You sighed. "Killer, I know you're trying to be sympathetic or whatever and I appreciate what you did for me, but I'm only trying to make it to land alive, so I can do what I have to do." You stood up and mumbled on your way out, "I've already been ripped apart and left for dead by a crew once. Don't need to relive it." It was impossible to be betrayed again if you had no one close enough to do so. 

Next

[driversatellite]

this love | h.s | part one

synopsis: harry and y/n were in a secret relationship for years and unfortunately it had to come to an end, but a year after the split they find themselves face to face once again, maybe they can mend what was once broken. 

harry styles x desi!reader  

part one: y/n finds herself in the most unlikely place 

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | next part

Y/N L/N couldn’t believe she was standing in the GA line at the Forum for Harry Styles’ 15 night residency. If you had asked her what her plans for October 24 were months prior she probably would have said a glass of wine and her favorite romcom, definitely not her ex-boyfriend’s concert. But her superfan best friends had begged her to come with them and Y/N really could never say no to them. It was her people pleasing nature, she thought she’d be able to fake being sick to get out of it, but none of her usual tricks worked on her friends, so here she was standing in line with hundreds of others waiting to see her ex-boyfriend. 

It all started on May 5th when Harry announced his residency, Y/N’s best friends Quinn and Zoya were Harry superfans, so as soon as the LA residency was announced they had already made plans to go to as many shows as they could. Y/N on the other hand was worried, she hadn’t seen Harry since their breakup back in November of the previous year, and she really didn’t want to see him, she was still nursing her broken heart and didn’t want any reminders of him. Y/N and Harry had thought they would make it to the end, they really were that couple, but once his tour started up again and Y/N started her first year of medical school, a lot of things started going downhill. The distance put a strain their relationship and neither one of them wanted to tell the other to give up on their goals just to salvage the relationship so they decided to call it quits, it honestly was an amicable breakup, but the fact that they were still very much in love and couldn’t be together was what really broke Y/N. She hoped that they could have worked a little harder to try and make it work, but with their schedules it seemed impossible, so she guessed it was the end of them, but she truly wished he was the one. 

Y/N and Harry had met at one of their mutual friend’s dinner party and hit off immediately, Harry fell for the smart and kind girl and Y/N fell for the down to earth musician who had the purest heart. They had decided to keep their relationship as private as they could, Harry didn’t want the public to ruin it for them, he loved her too much. So, only very few people knew they were together, their families and their inner circles. Y/N wasn’t as close with Quinn and Zoya when her and Harry were together, so she had never told them about the relationship, and seeing as they were superfans Y/N really didn’t want to open that can of worms with them. She had only told her family and her childhood best friend and she liked it that way, she liked knowing that their relationship was just their’s. She knew that romance wasn’t dead if they kept it just theirs, it was other people who ruined it. 

Which is why they didn’t even think when they decided to buy Y/N a ticket for one show, they wanted to drag her out, because after her breakup she had become a recluse. They didn’t tell Y/N about how they were all going to the concert until her birthday, which was only a couple weeks before the show. 

“What?” Y/N was dumbstruck as Quinn held out her phone with the ticket code and a boa in the other hand. 

“We’re seeing Harry Styles together!” Quinn grins and Y/N just stared blankly at her best friend. 

Zoya frowned at Y/N’s lack of reaction, “Aren’t you excited? You can finally have a night out and enjoy some of the best live music.”

Y/N quickly composed herself, trying to find the right words to say, “Yeah, I'm just shocked I guess, I didn’t know you guys got me a ticket.” 

Quinn smiled, “We wanted to surprise you, it’s your birthday gift silly, we’re also buying you your outfit for the show, we want you to have fun y/n/n, you’re always staying in nowadays.” 

“I know, I’m just stressed with school and all, and with all the exams coming up, it’s just been a lot.” Y/N tries to explain, she was trying to figure out the best way to let her friends down, cause she honestly didn’t think she’d be able to step foot into the Forum without breaking down into a complete mess. 

“I know, but you work so much y/n/n, you deserve to have fun, I promise we’ll have the best time, his shows are truly incredible and you get to dress up, and we all know you’re a fashion girlie at heart.” Zoya says. 

Y/N falters, she knew her friends meant well, but she just wasn’t ready to see Harry again, “I appreciate it guys, but I don’t know if I can go, I have a huge exam coming up.”

“I promise to study with you every single day until the concert, I’ll do anything, we just really want you to come with us y/n/n.” Quinn says. 

Y/N looked at the pleading looks on her best friends’ faces and caved, she truly couldn’t say no to them, “Fine, but you better study with me every single day Quinn.”

Quinn grinned as she nodded eagerly before pulling Y/N and Zoya into her arms, “Oh this is going to be so fun.” Y/N couldn’t do anything but muster up a weak smile as she hugged her friends. 

True to her word Quinn did study with Y/N every single day, she also dragged Y/N to every single boutique that she could find to find the best outfit for the concert, but it was Zoya who had ultimately found the best dress for Y/N to wear on one of her thrifting trips. It was a simple slip dress with intricate embroidery and lace detailing, she had also found the perfect burgundy boots to go with the dress. 

The night before the concert was when it really started to hit Y/N, she had a bundle of nerves in her stomach and she felt nauseous the entire night, she couldn’t believe she was actually going to see Harry again, it had been almost a year, and she still didn’t think she was ready. 

Quinn and Zoya had showed up to Y/N’s apartment around noonish with their outfits and numbered wristbands in hand, they had gone and camped out to get their place in line, Y/N had politely declined, saying that she was feeling sick--which honestly wasn’t a lie--and wanted to be feeling 100% for the show. The girls had a great time getting ready together. Y/N had missed this part of going out, she loved dressing up, it was the going out part that she didn’t miss as much. Not too long after they were on their way to Forum, Zoya and Quinn were practically jumping off the walls with excitement and Y/N sat in the back of the car with a jumble of nerves in her stomach. 

Though she was utterly terrified of what the night would bring, there was a small tiny part of Y/N that was excited to see Harry again, it truly had been too long, and even though the break up had been amicable, neither one had reached out to the other. She wondered if Harry had moved on, Y/N had tried to, she went on a few dates that Quinn and Zoya set her up on, but none of them compared, no one could ever compare to her Harry, he truly was her match. Y/N quickly shook those thoughts away, her goal for the night was to have fun and pretend that she was just another fan who had come to enjoy the music, not the ex-girlfriend of the popstar. 

Once they got to the Forum that’s when it all started to sink in for Y/N, she felt like throwing up but seeing the joy on Zoya and Quinn’s faces helped her stay calm, she was doing this for them, she hadn’t been the greatest friend to them, she had always stayed in when they invited her out, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with them, it was just that she hated going out now, all she did on her nights off was drink wine, eat cookies, and ugly cry to her favorite rom coms. So her going to the concert with them was to make up for that, she wanted to see her friends happy, she wanted to be happy with them, so if this concert made them happy, she would do it for them. 

They got in line, they had gotten decent numbers when they had camped out so Y/N knew that they would be pretty close to the stage and she knew that Harry always watched the crowd and he could pick out a face easily, especially a face he knew. Quinn and Zoya conversed with the other fans standing in line while Y/N pulled her phone out to text her little sister for advice, she always gave the best advice simply because she was very blunt. 

y/n: i’ve made a colossal mistake

kiara: what did you do this time, don’t tell me you bought that dior bag, i already told you, you don’t need it 

y/n: no, i did not buy that bag, but now that you mention it 

kiara: no, you don’t need it, just tell me what you did, i swear i’m not covering for you if it’s something that mom and dad will kill you for 

y/n: honestly they might

kiara: you’re scaring me y/n/n, just tell me

y/n: i let quinn and zoya drag me to h’s show 

kiara: YOU DID WHAT!?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?

y/n: i know, i know, it’s bad 

kiara: no you buying the bag would have been bad, this is terrible, why would you agree to this, wasn’t the reason you two broke up because of his tour and now you’re at the show, y/n/n, even i can’t defend this 

y/n: fuck, i know kie, it’s just quinn and zoya were so excited, they bought me the tickets and like it’s all they’ve been looking forward to and i didn’t want to let them down and i’m definitely not ready to tell them about us, so i caved

kiara: you made your bed, you must now lie in it you dumbass

y/n: i’m so stressed kie, what if he sees me, what do i do

kiara: idk, this is new territory for, idk how to deal with exes who are also popstars

y/n: you’re not helping

kiara: okay, just relax, you ended it as friends right

y/n: isn’t that what everyone says

kiara: unfortunately you decided to do this and now you have to deal with it, yes it is gonna be awkward but just forget about your history with him for a night, you listened to the new album right

y/n: yeah, of course i did 

kiara: wait yeah you did, i have videos of you crying to it, i can’t believe you let me listen to it with you, your biggest mistake honestly, i’m using those videos for blackmail, thanks for that by the way

y/n: yeah, yeah, whatever, ok back to the topic, so i just pretend nothing happened between us

kiara: yeah, you clearly did like the album, so just enjoy the music, i don’t think it’ll be that bad

y/n: you’re right, i’m stressing myself out for no reason, i’ve got this, i’m gonna have fun

kiara: perfect, now what are you wearing it better be hot

y/n: hold on, i’ll send you a pic

kiara: ohhh, cute, remind me to borrow that next time you’re home

y/n: yeah not happening

kiara: whatever, anyways if harry does see you, at least you look hot, he won’t be able to take his eyes off of you

y/n: that’s the opposite of what i want 

kiara: what did we just discuss, we’re going to ignore your guys’ past for the night

y/n: yeah, yeah, i’ll keep you updated

kiara: perfect, i can’t wait to see how this trainwreck of a night is going to end 

y/n: you’re so

kiara: have fun, and remember tonight you’re just a fan 

Thankfully it wasn’t too long after her conversation with Kiara ended that it was time for general admission to head in, y/n/n just kept repeating the same thing in her head the entire time they walked to their spots, “you’re just a fan tonight, no history for tonight”. Because of their place in line, the trio were pretty close to the stage, they weren’t barricade, but they were in the 3rd or 4th row, and Y/N’s stomach dropped at how close the stage was, there was no way Harry wouldn’t see her. But then she kept on reminding herself, “I'm just a fan tonight”. 

Y/N had calmed herself down enough to enjoy the openers and she actually was having fun, maybe her friends were right, she did need to go out more. But as soon as the opening set was over and it was time for Harry to come on Y/N felt nauseous again, it wasn’t too late to fake a stomach bug and go home, but before she could make up her mind the crowd started screaming and she looked up to see the Love Band come from backstage. She could feel her eyes water from seeing her old friends, she really did love them, but she couldn’t bare to even think of anything Harry related after the break up, the only person she talked to was Glenn, but that was because Glenn had made it her mission to continue to be Y/N’s friend even after the break up and Y/N admired her persistence. 

Y/N shrunk back into her friends, hoping that none of them had seen her. She was trying to distract herself again repeating her mantra for the night when the crowd started screaming again, she had guessed that meant it was time for Harry to go on and when the Daydreaming intro started to play she quite literally felt her heart stop. 

Harry rose up from under the stage and Y/N fought to keep the tears at bay, she couldn’t start crying, the show had barely started. She stared at Harry, she really hadn’t even tried to look at a picture of him since they broke up, and as much as she hated to say it, he looked good, no he looked fantastic. She knew how much Harry loved performing, it gave him a special glow, that’s why she didn’t push for him to schedule less shows so they could make their relationship easier, she knew this was what he was born to do and she wasn’t going to get in the way of that. 

Once the initial shock of seeing him had passed, she started to dance to the music, she truly did love the music he made, it made her happy. Slowly she felt her worries melt away as she started to groove along to the music, Zoya and Quinn were having the time of their lives and their joy was infectious. 

Harry had this magical ability to truly capture the audience’s hearts and Y/N had fallen victim to it, she forgot about all her worries for the moment and just had fun. 

---

[lianaloverr]

Hi friend :)

I saw that you're requests were open, and i was wondering if you could write a one-shot about Sam, where the reader has a kid from a past relationship and how they (Sam and said child) get along. there isnt a whole lot of just sam on here, and i love you're writing :)

He’s Ours Now

Sam Golbach x Mother!reader

ᜊ

summary: you were worried about him meeting your son, but it turned out better that you thought..

ᜊ

Warnings: none really , just fluff:)

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Word count: 903

ᜊ

I quite literally love this idea so i did it.

(pretend this is a boy)

“So, how did the date go?”

ᜊ

“It was amazing, he’s such a nice guy I think you’d love him.” you say to your sister, overly excited about your date that just happened. “Ooo. Who bought dinner?” she asks, being all dramatic. “We split why?” you answer, genuinely confused.

“He’s a keeper.” she says and you both start laughing. When the laughter died down, she asked, “So how did he react when he found out you had a son?” then it was dead silent. “Y/n, you told him right?” she questioned. “I didn’t know, it didn’t slip out.” you say, guilty. “Y/n! You know this is the main reason why people don’t go out with you the second time! you don’t tell them!” she lectures you. “I’m sorry! It’s just, he’s a great guy and i didn’t want to mess it up,”

“You have to invite him over and tell him about your son, and show him.” she says firmly. “But-,“ “No but’s,” she interrupts you. “you can’t mess this up again y/n.”

Sam💗

You: Hey, do u wanna come over for a second date?

Sam: Yea that sounds great! When?

You: I was thinking maybe tmw?

Sam: ofc, that works!

You: But, theirs someone i want u to meet.

Sam: ?

You: You’ll see when u come tmw. See u.

Sam: mkay.

You were rushed with nervousness. Just the thought of tomorrow was sending a burning sensation down your spine. You thought of every possible scenario, and non of them were good. What if he just walks out when he’s sees him? What if he just doesn’t even come? It was all giving you a severe headache. But it had to be done, effective immediately.

The next day…

It was 20 minutes before Sam was supposed to get there. You were running around getting pizza and snacks so you all could chill out. You were still nervous indeed, but you had other things to worry about.

“Mommy, can I have some pizza?” your son, Meteo asked. “Of course baby, come grab a plate.” say as you hand it to him from the kitchen. As you put the piece of pizza on his plate, you can’t help but to stare in awe.

Things have been really tough for you guys. You were barely making enough money for rent with your full-time barista job down the street. And Mateo’s dad not being in his or your life, it’s just all one big blob for you. Your son brings joy to all of your days. And you always swore you would be with him through thick and thin.

An abrupt knock at your door kicks your thoughts out the way. You look at your watch and it reads 4:30. You think, “Damn, that 20 minutes went by fast.”

Once you get in front of the door, you straighten out your clothes making sure there is no wrinkle. You also look around your tiny 1 bedroom apartment to make sure there is no trash. When you do, you open the door to a smiling Sam.

“Omg, hi!!!” you say as you wrap him in a tight hug. “Hey! I’ve missed you.” he says as you let go. “I’ve missed you too.” you say, genuinely.

“Mommy?” your son says out of the blue. All of the sudden your heart drops. What will he think? It was all in the moment. You just had to see.

“Well, who’s this little guy?” Sam says, with an expression you couldn’t quite make-out. “Uh, this is my son, Mateo.” you say with a shaky voice. Sam lowers himself to eye level with your son. “Hey little buddy!” Sam says with joy in his tone. “Hi!!!” Mateo says in the cutest little baby voice. “Oh my goodness he is so cute,” Sam says looking up at you. “how old is he?” he asks. “He’s 3.” you answer. “Oh well this is the custody 3 year old i’ve ever seen!” Sam says, making your son giggle.

“You have blonde hair.” Your son Says. “Well yes I do, do you wanna feel it?” Sam questions. Mateo doesn’t answer, he just touches his hair, laughing uncontrollably. “Thank you mister.” Mateo says as he walks off and Sam gets back to ee level with you. “So, are you gonna invite me in?”

The whole night, you, Sam, and Mateo were goofing around, eating pizza and snacks, enjoying yourselves. Sam and Mateo got along way better than you thought. Sam ran around your apartment with him on his back acting like a rocket-ship. The sight making you want to tear up.

You have never met someone who wanted to be in your son’s life as much as Sam.

All of the sudden, the date was over, and you were waking Sam out the door. “Wait mister,” Mateo says, giving a hug to Sam, who started smiling and hugged back. Mateo suddenly runs off into your room, and it was just you and him. “Thank you so much.” was the first words that came out your mouth. “For What?”

“For not abandoning me when you found out I had a kid.” you say wholeheartedly. “No of course, he’s the best kid i’ve ever good along with.” “You can expect a call back from me.” you say as you and him bust out laughing.

“Yeah, but your son is great.” He says quietly. “No, He’s ours now.”

You guys, I loved this. ty to my mutual @hales-multi-stan for this request! Remember, my request are always open!

Masterlist

[lyraspace]

Here's my concept for the "villians" of a Care Bears reboot/sequel series that answers the questions, "what if there was an overarching story that pushes the Care Bears Family to their limits?" or "what happens when someone needs the Care Bears, but slips through the cracks instead?" But most importantly:

What if the villian was right?

Broken Heart

When the Care Bears and Care Bear Cousins finally defeated No Heart, his amulet was lost. None of them could find it, no matter where they looked. Eventually they gave up, hoping at the very least it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands again.

Imagine their surprise many years later when a mysterious hooded vigilante starts using said amulet to shake up the world in ways none of them have ever seen.

Not by spreading hatred and malice, but bizarre displays of activism.

One minute she's stealing millions of dollars from banks and CEOs with reckless abandon, the next she's donating the money to every charity in the city. She'll use her powers to shoot a Rainbow Roller right out of the sky to sabotage a caring mission...then help the child in need herself, and then some.

It's almost as if she's trying to beat the Care Bears at their own game...

...And the people are loving all of it.

The worst part is that the Care Bears have no clue who this girl is, or how someone so young managed to find something as powerful as No Heart's amulet. Maybe it found her on purpose, and it's feeding off her anger. The only flimsy lead they have is that Broken Heart popped up around the same time a 14 year old girl ran away from the Cherrywood's Orphanage after hearing that Social Services was going to place her in a group home, splitting her up from the little brother she swore to protect after their mother died.

The Care Bears Family have yet to connect all the dots, but Broken Heart is a monster of their own making; they weren't there for her when she needed them the most, and it ruined her life.

And now, she's going to make them pay.

Not by ridding the world of Love and Caring...

...But creating a world that doesn't need the Care Bears.

And to them, that's the most frightening aspect of all.

"The Bull"

Older than the trees and younger than the mountains, The Bull is used to being alone; feelings aren't his strong point anyway. He's been just about everywhere, only stepping into a situation when he needs to; he may be the origin of a folk tale or two, if you know who to ask.

But whatever you do, do not mistake him for any of those Care Bears.

If he was one of them, they would have picked him up ages ago. But they never did, so he guesses he just wasn't up to snuff.

The Bull has no clue what compelled him to jump in the fight to help some hooded kid who did not need his help after all thank you very much from a group of Care Bears trying to get some weird necklace from her, but it was definitely worth it; knocking their little fuzzy butts down a peg was the most fun he's had in ages.

(He quickly learns that pushing Brave Heart's buttons is very fun.)

After some back and forth, his new boss ain't all that bad either; Broken Heart is smart as a whip, passionate about her beliefs, and kinda sweet once you get to know her. It doesn't take a genius to see that underneath that hood is a scared, lost kid who has every right to be angry at the world.

He's even inclined to agree with her frustration; if the Care Bears really wanted to spread Love and Caring, why not use that Care Bear Stare of theirs on a dictator or two, or an oil tycoon?

Why waste their time on a girl that only wants to make the world the better place her mother always wanted?

Wait a minute...

Is he...starting to care about someone?

Broken Heart becomes increasingly irritable and possessive of the amulet, and her vision of a "better world" is becoming disturbingly warped. She kidnaps her brother from the Cherrywoods and begins plotting revenge against the truck driver that fell asleep at the wheel that fateful night one year ago.

The Good Times don't last.

As much as The Bull hates to admit it, he can't get through to her alone...

...only the Love and Caring of the Care Bears Family can save Broken Heart now.

But will it be enough when it's too little, too late?

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 1

Pairing: Soap x Ghost  

WC: 2k 

Synopsis: 141 has a new target for now. Soap is throwing out Gaelic and it isn’t his fault the dog barked, what is he supposed to do

Warnings: None that I can think of, this a slow burn so get ready to dig in for a bit

Things were different now, the team was back together. No longer were they split and sent to opposite sides of the globe. General Shepherd was in the wind and they had to be ready to go at a moment's notice the second he was found. There would be no time to meld together, to run practice sweeps through some training course. They needed to be out in the field together, getting used to one another again before they were expected to go after the man who had thrown them into the hands of a terrorist and set a madman loose. Until then though they were being deployed together, all over the world to countries whose very name was classified. Captain John Price, Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Sergeant Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, and Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, the team was officially back together. Price was sat in a chair facing the wall where Laswell was currently projecting the image of a man. She had just finished explaining who exactly he was, apparently the leader of a terrorist cell who was currently in control of a heavily populated city. He had taken control of a twenty story building at the center of the city and the streets were now crawling with his men, young recruits joining up by the day only solidifying his power. He had become the de facto ruler of the city in the span of three days and not a soul around was willing to stop him, well except for 141.

Soap was near the back of the room where he always sat, pen in hand as it tapped quietly against his cheek. The dark haired Scotsman was watching everyone, well everyone except for Ghost who was standing in the corner just behind him. Soap's eyes found Price as the Captain turned his attention to the three men he was commanding, looking to each of them in turn. The pen stopped tapping as soon as the eyes landed on him and Price spoke, "Seems simple enough to me Laswell. You drop us outside the city, we get in quietly, take Suheil for interrogation, and extract," he glanced at Soap then who was looking anywhere but at the Captain, "quietly."

The room was awkwardly quiet until Soap finally broke and looked at the Captain who was still pointedly staring. The Scotsman’s eyes widened with pure innocence before looking between everyone else who had also shifted their gaze to him. His tone was full of confusion as he spoke, "What’re ye lookin at me for? I told ye all, that dog came out of nowhere! It isn't my fault he smelt one of your pungent asses and decided to investigate. What do ye want me to do about it?”

Gaz ducked his head looking down at his hands and holding in a laugh. The bloody brits were always teaming up on him, they always had something to say. Ghost was still leaning against the wall in the corner but he made no attempt to hide his snort before he said accusingly, "I told you back in Las Almas, Johnny. Kill the dog and repo, should've listened to me. What happened to you being better than me? Right shite in my opinion."

Soap looked back at the tall man with a narrowed gaze and what seemed to be steam coming off of his red face, "Oh give it a break will ye? We’ve all had our fuck ups and I’m not even the only one whose had theirs with a dog. I killed the big bastard, didn’t I? Maybe some of you should try washing between your ass cheeks next time and he won’t smell us."

Ghost let out a muffled laugh as he looked at the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. Price closed his eyes and then looked to Laswell who was holding back her own laugh and suppressing a smile behind a smirk, not even she was immune to the dynamics between the squad members. Especially when that dog had nearly compromised the whole mission. The Captain then leaned forward onto the table, looking down at a map of the city and the land beyond it before pointing to the map. "We'll infill here with parachutes, and leg it to the city. The outer homes have been evacuated, right Laswell?" 

He glanced at her as she answered, “Yes, as far as we know all families in the outer cities were evacuated to a refugee camp ten miles south of the city.”

The Captain nodded his understanding, returning his gaze to the map with a light sniff as he thought for another moment and continued, "We'll stay through the afternoon in one of the outer homes, we are only out at night, understood?" 

He looked to the men in turn to see their nods, all teasing was over now, their plan was their survival. Not only for themselves but also for their team members. If they failed to know what was going on and the part they were to play then they were putting everyone at risk and that was not something anyone in this room was willing to do. Price began outlining the details of the assault finally, "When the sun goes down we'll head for the center of the city, two teams. Team one will be me and Gaz, we'll take some men with us and assault the building directly from the south entrance here. We’ll cut the power when we reach the second floor and use thermal sights. We hit hard and fast, get Suheil and then get to our extraction point. Team two will be Soap and Ghost, you two will provide overwatch from here." The Captain slid his finger across the map to a spot five blocks over, tapping on a building before glancing to Laswell. "Can you get us blueprints of this building as well?”

Kate looked closer to see where he was pointing before answering with uncertainty, "Give me a second." She turned from the group as she opened her laptop. Price waited for a moment before Laswell looked up, "You can keep going Captain, I can multitask."

Price didn't need any other invitation to continue as he began outlining his thoughts, "When we grab Suheil we'll need a quick getaway. Ghost and Soap this building should have watch points three hundred and sixty degrees, if there are none inside the building move to the roof. You will be covering our exfil until the target is outbound." He glanced at the Lieutenant gesturing for Ghost to join him at the table. "Suggestions for extraction points?"

The big man pushed up from his place on the wall, stepping into Soap's field of view to look down at the schematics of the city. It wasn’t often Ghost stepped into the middle of the room, and he never turned his back on people. But he momentarily forgot Soap was sitting at the end of the table, and as he passed the Scot couldn’t help but stare. It was eye level, and even though the jeans were bootcut he filled them out in all the right places. He was nearly caught staring but glanced back towards Price as Ghost looked back at him, eyeing him for a moment before Price tapped on the table and caught the Lieutenants attention before Soap gave himself away.

The big man stared for a second, eyes moving subtly across the map before he pointed to an open plaza two blocks from the building Price had designated for Team Two’s sniper position. "If we're using helos this is a good place. They can set down and Johnny and I can provide sniper support much easier. But, we don't have control of the city and our mission is a snatch and grab. I suggest trucks and a rendezvous here," His gloved finger pointed to some of the supposedly abandoned homes of the city. “Team two can provide sniper support as you get the target loaded and out of the city. Then when you've extracted the target Soap and I can get to a second extraction point here," his other hand pointed to a place well outside of the city in the open desert without a home in sight. "We'll move through the city, quietly," his eyes flicked momentarily to Soap meeting narrowed blue eyes and the Scot could swear he saw the lips under that mask turn up in a smirk. "They'll never even know there were snipers. Sure as shite won't know where we were."

The Captain was nodding slowly in his agreement with the suggestion. His eyes stared down at the map for a few seconds longer before he looked up at Ghost, "Agreed. We’ll take the trucks and rendezvous at the same place where we slept the previous day. You and Soap will extract on your own. How long will it take you to get there?"

Ghost studied it for a moment and Soap scooted his chair closer to look before the deep, raspy voice spoke again, "I say a maximum of a day and a half, two if we get held up. Once we're outside the city we won't have to wait for night. We can cover that ground easily."

Soap looked at the distance and gave a nod of agreement, "Aye two days max. I'm always up for a race, Lt. I doubt you could keep up with me, I won’t be sporting a bullet hole this time Ghost.”

Again Soap swore he could see the smile under that mask before Price stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, "Ok then that’s how we’ll do it, don't be late Ghost. Leave Soap if you have to, especially if he hasn't learned his lesson yet. Quietly Sergeant, quietly."

The Scotsman held out his hands in front of him, palms in the air as he glanced at all of the people in the room with a look of incredulity, "One bloody time. I set a dog off one feckin time and you lot are gonna carve it into my bloody tombstone. Every one of you have fucked up before, why is it the bloody Brits only ever bring up my shite?”

Ghost watched him with crossed arms and before answering, “Because it’s fun. I’m surprised you’re still speaking English, Johnny.”

Soap bit his tongue and looked at the table, but he didn’t last three seconds before he shot back, “Shut yer pus, numpty.”

Now the smile was obvious in the big man’s eyes as he gave one of those quiet evil laughs you hear in a cartoon as it’s fading to black. “Careful Johnny, they’ll slap you with another insubordination reprimanding.”

Soap rolled his eyes so hard he swore he could see his brain back there somewhere. “Mhac na galla.” Another snort from Ghost but this time he held his tongue and looked at Price, “We'll be there Captain I can promise you that. I may not be quiet but we’ll make it that’s for sure. If there's one thing I've got, it's timing, and better knees than this big blaigeard."

Price was suppressing his own smile now as he looked at Soap. Trying not to laugh at his obvious cursing and disrespect, "Good, we leave tomorrow morning 0600, don't be late to that either Soap. We don't rebook flights here."

The dark haired Scot smiled then and nodded before he stood up, filing out of the room with everyone else to pack his gear and get ready to leave tomorrow. He may have been feigning a bad mood and anger in there but it was always for the benefit of the team. Sometimes everyone needs a laugh; he just happened to be the best at drawing them out. He knew that, it was a fact, yet something in the back of his mind still wondered if they really meant it rather than just giving him a hard time for a good time. It was always something that sat at the back of his mind, but those insecurities were written deep inside him and that’s where he kept them, no one needed to see that. He would be useless if they ever did.

[vecnuthy]

Unlearning, pt 2

pt 1

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Acquaintances to friends to....?

Summary: Were your eyes deceiving you, or had Steve Harrington actually changed? Takes place not too long after season 4

Warnings: language, bit of comfort

3.1k words

Steve didn't have anything to prove and he wasn't responsible for people's perceptions of him. If they didn't see he had changed -- simply put? Fuck 'em. He didn't want to be weighed down with the burden of proving himself or of showing his value. Too much had gone on around him and to him to actively bother with that nonsense, but he'd be lying if he said that people's perceptions of him didn't bother him. And he hated that reality. His high school persona coupled with his well-off, well-connected, but just crappy parents had laid the shoddy foundation of Steve Harrington. He knew how he had once carried himself, finding validation in his charisma and status and the attention they afforded him. He knew that Tommy H and Carol had been fuel to what ended up being that dumpster fire, too. They had brought it the wrong side of him, had been the wrong company, so he let them go. Or they let him go. Whatever -- they split, and the point is that he didn't shy away from change once he realized it wasn't so daunting.

Maybe the root of his issues with the public's perception of "Steve Harrington" was its incapability of actually seeing Steve Harrington for who he was, who he had become. Steve Harrington was a good guy. He was brave, loyal, courageous, eager, willing, able, caring, and generous, and he didn't try to hide any of it even as he kept discovering things about himself.

And here you were -- two nods shy of basically being a stranger to the guy -- willingly putting in the effort to unlearn the public's perception, your perception of him because you had realized it was wrong. And you had admitted it to him. It was a rarity for Steve to get that kind of validation or acknowledgement (not that you knew that). He still didn't fully understand why you purposefully, actively chose to work through your prejudices toward him, but he couldn't deny that he appreciated it and every admired you for it, even though he initially found your approach to be fairly.... unnerving.

And for good reason, you privately conceded, but shit, the guy was fascinating.

As your respective paths continued to cross, Steve engaged more with you, and the dynamic between you and him morphed into something easier as you moved past general acquaintances into something that definitely more closely resembled friends. Naturally, you also ended up getting more involved with his and Robin's other friends, which, of course, included Nancy Wheeler. 

That dynamic was fascinating to watch. It didn't seem like Steve had completely moved on from her. It was so subtle, but it was there, and you couldn't help but notice that Nancy acted delicately with him, as if she knew how he felt but didn't want to encourage it, but didn't want him to feel bad about it either. You wondered if it was because Steve just hadn't been in another relationship since theirs had ended. Judging from Robin's banter with him, he went out on dates, but it was pretty obvious that nothing landed. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn't run through the whole town yet, as small as it was and as suave as he could be, but maybe he had, and that's why he wasn't with anybody. Maybe none of it really mattered, in the end, and something would happen when it was supposed to. If it was supposed to.

Here you were thinking about Steve Harrington again.

"Get kicked out?" Steve asked you as he took his own chunk of the pool's edge a little further down from you. 

The boys from the younger crew had already been taken home by Nancy after spending a few hours at Steve's for the pool. You, Vickie, Robin, and Nancy had been hanging out up until then, splitting the time between talking and lounging and making sure the young teens were being safe, but now it was just you, Robin, and Vickie left outside as the sun finished setting. It didn't take long for the third wheel syndrome set in, so you found yourself sitting on the edge of the pool while the other two canoodled in the chairs. 

"Self-extrication," you clarified. The two girls giggled behind you, and you and he shared an amused look. "I really need to start driving myself around or be the one to pick up Vickie, because it's pretty clear how all of these get-togethers are going to end." He laughed out an affirmative. 

A metallic squeak sounded from one of the chairs as Robin got up and came over to ask, "Would you hate us if we headed out?" Her eyes darted between your and Steve's upturned faces, then she scrunched up her own, bracing herself for a plea from you both for her and Vickie to stay. You looked over at Steve, Steve looked at you, and then you both looked back at Robin as she continued to cringe. She cracked one of her eyes open, then deflated and pleaded, "Oh, come on, guys. We want to get food before the movie."

"You know you don't have to ask, right?" you told her.

She snorted, saying, "Of course, but we would be leaving you, once again, with this one's company." She jabbed her thumb toward Steve, who scoffed at her saying under his breath, "Like that's a bad thing."

"Look, Steve, all I'm saying is that she's one of the very few who you haven't – "

"Jeez, Robin," he interrupted with a grimace.

" – gone out with, and I can't have the – "

"God, stop. She'll be fine. You'll be fine," he assured you. You gave them both an amused look and waved Robin off with, "I'm not worried about it."

"Mhmm," she said flatly, eyeing Steve suspiciously. "Behave," she told him, gesturing 'I'm watching you' with her fingers.

Steve scrunched his face in confusion and waved his hand, saying, "You're literally leaving." You laughed when she rolled her eyes and flipped him off as she and Vickie walked away.

"Jesus," he breathed, giving you an unsure look that you actually missed. He hoped that hadn't weirded you out, because what Robin had alluded wasn't his intention.

"She's funny," you said, putting your weight on your palms as you leaned back, bare feet dangling in the water. It was a nice night. The sky was clear, the moon was rising, and it wasn't ridiculously humid.

The silence between you now wasn't like what loomed over you in his car that night a few weeks ago when he took you home. He was the first to break it this time, though.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

You took in a deep breath, coming out of letting your mind wander through nothing in particular. "Yeah, if you want."

He shrugged. "You don't have to. Not trying to kick you out or anything." He was watching the movement of the water.

"Your house, your rules, bud," you said with a smile, bobbing your heel on the surface of the water. He breathed out a laugh through his nose.

"Seen any good movies lately?"

You smirked to yourself and thought There it is. "Nope."

"Really?"

You doubled down by shaking your head at him, eyes twinkling as you smirking at his incredulous expression.

"Have you seen any movies lately?" Steve figured you probably had, because you had followed the instructions on the note he'd left to return the movies to Family Video.

You narrowed your eyes at him and cocked your head to the side. "Huh. Funny you should ask that. Some creeper left a bag of C tier space opera tapes on my porch."

He looked away and groaned out an incredulous "oh my god" through a laugh. 

"I almost didn't watch them, because people are crazy and you never really know what's on a tape until you watch it."

Steve's eyebrows shot up in an amused expression and he dangled his arm aross the knee he just pulled up, waiting to see how far you were going to take this. You couldn't keep looking at him, otherwise you'd break, so you looked back at the water, then continued.

"I thought about putting up some 'be on lookout' posters of the guy that did it." You moved your foot through the water. "I figured Robin could sketch him for me. I got a good look at him."

He gasped in faux awe. "You did?"

"Oh yeah," you said gravely. "He had some pretty defining features, too," you admitted, chancing a look back at him, letting your eyes flick up to his hair. "I'm thinking people would recognize him."

"Jesus," he breathed to himself as he smiled and shook his head incredulously. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know about your apparent video tape trauma," he shot at you with a grin as you laughed at him. "You were home?"

"Yeah," you snickered. "You had good timing, too. I was bored out of my mind." You shifted on the concrete.

"If you want some real C level movies, Robin's loaded with recommendations. She loves those ridiculous sci-fi movies from the 60s."

"Sounds like you found out the hard way." He gave you a tortured, pleading look that made you laugh again.

"The storylines typically aren't that bad, but my god, the acting and execution?" He thought of something and started laughing. "There was this one movie that was part of a series–" 

You gave a sympathetic oof. 

"Yeah," he said with a knowing look. "This alien guy was working for this group of alien women, all babes–"

You snorted. 

" – and one of them and this guy were casually walking through this military base or something and absorbing people by opening up his big black trench coat and wrapping it around them. The alien babe with him would just set her bag down and put their clothes and shoes in the bag, and then they'd just walk off like nothing happened." He saw your screwed up face and yielded, "I swear I'm not doing it justice, it was so dumb. The fight scenes were surprisingly badass, though." 

"If you guys have it, I'll rent it." Curiosity had the better of you. 

"I'll ask Robin about it." He gave you a sly grin. "So the Star Wars movies weren't bad, huh?"

You looked anywhere but at Steve as you ran your tongue over your teeth and tried not to smile.

"Hmm?" he goaded. God.

You huffed. "They weren't that bad," you repeated louder with a little difficulty, which made him laugh. In playful retaliation, your foot surged over the surface of the pool, sending a spray of water in his direction, but your half-hearted effort ended up being a little too effective. You and Steve both gasped as the water splashed onto his lap, and you both froze: you with wide eyes and your hands over your mouth, Steve with his hands suspended in front of him as if they could stop the wave. 

"Oh my god, Ste–" you started, but he silenced you with a huffed laugh and an unconvincing, "I'm kicking you out now," as he moved to get up. 

"No, that's understandable. "You got up too. "Let me get you a towel or something," you offered, definitely forgetting you knew basically nothing about his house. 

"Really?" he snorted. "Do you even know where anything is?" he said over his shoulder as you and he moved toward the back door. 

"No…." you said in a small but guilty voice. "I could find a bathroom and hope for the best."

He laughed. "I'll just change." He brushed off your apologetic grimace. "Don't sweat it, I'll be back." He disappeared into the depths of the house, leaving you just inside the back door. 

You couldn't help but notice how impersonable the space looked and felt. What you could see of the house was nice, but it came off as staged and cold and unlived in. You couldn't help but wonder how a space of his own would look if given the chance. He seemed like he would want a cozy space, definitely seemed like a blanket pers–

"That's better." 

You jumped with his announcement and turned to see him looking at ease in a pair of black sweats and a tshirt he's swapped his polo out for. 

"I can head out now." 

His eyebrows raised a little in surprise, then he gave you a slight questioning look, to which you nodded in confirmation with your lips pressed together. 

"Mkay." Steve grabbed his keys, and you followed him to his car. 

"So they 'weren't that bad' huh?" He asked as he pulled out of his driveway. 

Your head hit the back of the seat in response to his determination, but you were smiling. "No, they definitely unique."

"So are you a Luke girl or a Han girl?" He gave you a teasing smile, drawing from something a Family Video customer had said about girls liking one or the other. You countered his question with a frown, saying, "Neither?" as if it were the most obvious thing. He hadn't expected that response, so you clarified. "Luke's a fledgling that goes off and suddenly becomes a badass with barely an explanation, and Han is a hot shot, selfish, and shady, and he's a bit of a dick." 

As the words tumbled out of your mouth, you couldn't help but draw parallels to some of those descriptors and Steve, then you thought of how Han was brave, had a heart of gold, and stuck around when it counted, even if you didn't know the full extent to which that applied to Steve. Shit. You didn't want to dwell on that, didn't want to leave an empty space for either of you to think about that, so you added, "Nobody even addressed the fact that Leia witnessed the destruction of her whole damn planet, which definitely should have played a bigger role in the story. Didn't they even fly through the remnants?"

"I think so," he said, turning down a street.

"That's pretty fucked up." He agreed with you, letting the soft radio music go the silence for a while before you snorted and said, "At least I know where that insane voice you did came from now." 

Steve laughed. 

"It was a good impersonation," you assured. "A little too good, almost." 

"I'm a man of many talents." He smiled to himself. "Speaking of that, how's the whole unlearning thing going?" 

You gave him a surprised look. "Well that's bold of you to ask. I thought you left the ball in my court for updates?"

Steve shrugged. "You haven't given any."

"Maybe I don't have any to give."

"Am I that hopeless?" He gave you a pitiful look. You rolled your eyes and sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to ignore how the glances he gave you. 

"You really want an update?" He nodded slowly, almost lazily as he looked toward the road. "Alright." You took a deep breath. Here it goes. 

"You wear your heart on your sleeve, but you hide. It's obvious that you and Robin and Nancy and the others have been through. . . . something. I'm not asking what that is, because it seems really heavy and it's obviously none of my business."

Steve shifted in his seat. "It wouldn't make any sense, anyway," he offered with a worn grimace as he reached around and pressed his hand lightly against his side. It was a small movent, but you noticed it.

You choked the questions down and continued, "But from what I've seen, Steve? Overall, you're just a good guy that's shed his shitty high school persona and come into himself more. And you're getting used to getting comfortable with it." 

He could see he was processing your words,so you let that linger, then continued, getting braver the closer you got to your house, knowing you'd be able to jump out soon. "You seem hard on yourself, though. Like, unnecessarily so." You absentmindedly scratched at your arm, unsure if you should keep going out of fear of overstepping, but you did. "You should be proud of yourself, Steve. I don't know if it means much, but I'm proud of you. Robin adores you, and the kids wouldn't trade you for the world, even though they give you a hard time sometimes."

The mood had shifted in the car, that was a surety, but it also showed in his body language as his thumb brushed against the top of the steering wheel while he bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he had expected some half-hearted assurance that he could easily brush off, suddenly forgetting that you had zero issues with being frank with him, but he literally had zero escape through everything you just said. 

He did now that he was parked in your driveway, though, and you wanted to give that to him. You said a quick apology for making him uncomfortable, again, then got out and started toward your front door, but looked back in the blinding headlights of his BMW when he called your name like a question. His outline, blurred by the lights in your eyes as you squinted toward him, grew closer to you, then was in front of you, then was all around you as he wrapped you in a genuine, heartfelt hug. The gesture surprised you, and it took a moment for you to reciprocate, but when you did, you both relaxed into it and just stood there. 

"Sorry if this is weird." The vibrations of his voice through his chest made you relax even more. "But that was…" He trailed off, not really knowing what to say or how to convey what he was feeling, so he just let the embrace do it for him.

It was nice. Shit, it was more than nice, it was one of the best hugs you'd ever had. Warm, firm but soft, surprisingly not awkward, just genuine. You felt valued, a realization that made you misty-eyed because you knew he was channeling his own feelings into this. A few moments later, he shifted and you pulled apart from each other. 

"Are you okay?" you asked him softly. 

Steve sniffed and nodded, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair out of instinct. "You really think all of that? I know I'm not the same, but it's weird hearing it from other people." He couldn't help think about what Eddie had said to him in the Upside Down a few months back.

"Well yeah." You looked away from him and added, "You should stick up for yourself, too, by the way." The way the younger kids and even Robin joked around with him sometimes didn't sit well with you. 

"Yeah…." he said, eyes cast to the ground. 

"If you don't, I will." You bumped into him with a little grin, trying to get him to smile. "I'm not above kicking some underfreshman ass if the situation calls for it." He finally huffed out a laugh and pushed slightly back into you with a soft "Thank you."

"Thank you for the ride again." You turned and moved toward your door, adding, "Be safe going home," then, "Watch out for deer!" before you closed the door. The distant sound of his laugh muffled through the door made you smile.

@starry-eyed-steve @sattlersquarry

[nerdychick13]

Hello my lovelies! Finesse is here with one last note from the villa. I know, I can’t believe it’s over so let me recount this last day in Spain.

Ozzy and I had our final date in the villa together. However, I think this was only our second official date. It was so romantic to have a picnic on the beach surrounded by rose petals! We’re both looking forward to our future together. The other girls had some cute dates with their partners and Toby & Amy are officially the most cringe-inducing couple in the villa. Some may say that’s unfair to say about my sister but I really don’t want to know everything she and Toby got up to on their date or in the hideaway (but somehow I still know these things against my will). Grace still seems salty about Ozzy choosing me over her. I have hope she and I can mend fences one day, but it will have to be when she’s ready to fully process these feelings.

I had fun dress shopping! I really like the outfits Grace, Chloe, and Amy chose. They were very flashy and formal but not my style. I chose an understated white gown for my prom look. Oddly enough, I matched Toby rather than Ozzy. Interesting, no?

Ozzy and I had a very romantic dance together. I love how well we mesh, both in our chemistry and in our dancing. I even managed to gross out Amelia when Ozzy and I shared a passionate snog during our dance. Sometimes life just works out. I was surprised none of the other couples joined in, especially Chloe.

The declarations of love were almost to be expected. Chloe and Roberto had the cutest speeches! They may be in the friend zone, but everybody should have a friendship like theirs. Ozzy and I turned on the water works with our romantic and cheesy speeches. I didn’t expect him to ask me to be exclusive but I am so glad he did. I said yes, of course because Ozzy is the only guy I want. Toby and Amy became boyfriend and girlfriend. I give it a week tops. She keeps getting her head turned by new guys so I’m just warning Toby now: she may not stay loyal to you hun. Marshall is catching feelings for Grace! I know she doesn’t see them working out (and I don’t see it as healthy), but he knows what he wants and Grace is a catch. Maybe Marshall will find the right partner one day. He’s grown a lot since he and Ozzy patched things up.

I was shocked when Ozzy and I won Love Island. I figured that because I split Ozzy and Grace up, we might not win. But more surprising was our guest host Hamish! He has such witty banter and confidence about him. He deserved better in Casa Amor. In the test of Love or Money, I chose love and split the £50,000 with Ozzy. I want to grow my business and I plan to invest my half in expanding my fashion empire. Although Hamish came onto me, I chose to stay loyal to Ozzy. I fought too long and too hard to get him, and I am not turning him loose any time soon.

Well, there you have it. My summer of love on Love Island has come to a grand conclusion. I look forward to spending some time at home alone, introducing Ozzy to my family and friends, as well as meeting all of his loved ones. I think we would both value some time away from our twins. Thank you all for following my journey to love. I can’t wait to send you updates on Ozzy & I in our post-villa life.

Xoxo,

Finesse

LITG S6 winner

[afanaticrabbit]

A Bottle of Red

Written as an entry to the second Quills and Sofas Expanding Universes contest, wherein we were given another entrant's story and wrote a sequel, prequel or related story for it. I got Undome Tinwe's wonderful Patterns.

Thank you to the folks over at Quills and Sofas for their wonderful feedback (and sorry, there are so many of you to list!)

Thank you to applejackofalltrades for the cover art! Here are his DeviantArt and Twitter!

Originally posted on FimFiction.net on 14th May 2021

Twilight had expected far more. More arguments, more shouting, calls to order after crowds of ponies all tried to make their cases, to argue for the couple.

She wasn’t sure if she liked the calm and quiet ceremony more. The judge presiding over the affair had let the couple use a small conference room instead of one of the bigger courtrooms, and Twilight’s aide and guards kept the press and public out. She wasn’t exactly happy, knowing that keeping the world away from this would bite her in the flank later.

Twilight sat opposite to Rarity. She stared at her perfect white coat and perfect mane at odds with the tired circles under her eyes. Twilight knew she looked similar, maybe a touch more frazzled.

Rarity looked to the judge who sat at the end of the table. The mare looked similar to an aide Twilight inherited from Celestia, with an off-white coat and a thick, dark mane tied back into a bun. Twilight wasn’t sure if they were related, but the somewhat familiar face smoothed over some of the aches and tension in her chest. They didn’t go away completely. She still found it difficult to breathe.

“Everything looks to be in order,” said the judge, her voice clipped and professional. “Both parties have agreed to a fair level of financial recompense. Rarity, sic, will retain a percentage of the former couple’s collective funds in line with her earnings from her businesses—”

Twilight barely paid attention. She knew everything in the forms and declarations by heart. Even if she wasn’t so obsessive, a trait she had actually taken pride in over the years, she would have remembered most of it. Rarity would keep her properties. Any finances they pooled would be split to reflect her earnings. Any other possessions they owned were already divided between them, aside from any furniture. Technically half of that wasn’t either of theirs, being part of the palace’s decor for generations.

Rarity’s face gradually turned to a frown, and she turned away from the judge as she spoke, down to the desk in front of her. Twilight continued staring, longing to reach out, to brush her mane aside and touch her cheek.

“—Citing lack of trust between both parties and ‘unfulfilled promises’—”

The imagined reconciliation was broken by Rarity’s glower when she looked up. Twilight—the girl who who ruled a nation, stared down gods, who ascended to near divinity herself—shrank back in her seat. Something twitched in Rarity’s lips, and her expression softened a moment later.

It very much didn’t feel fair to Twilight. To think a small seed of doubt turned into paranoia and fretting over who she was to the love of her life. But to Rarity, it was all a slap in the face, spitting on all she sacrificed…

“—with both parties officially parting,” The judge finished off, then looked up. She glanced between Twilight and Rarity. With a small cough, she asked, “Are there any questions or objections to any of what I have covered?”

Twilight inhaled, but Rarity answered first. “None at all, your honour.”

Twilight swallowed down her words, and nodded. “None, your honour,” she answered.

“Very well,” said the judge, “then I officially declare you separated. You’ll receive written copies of the declaration soon enough, though I suspect it won’t be entirely necessary…” She trailed off and smiled thinly at the former spouses. She tucked her paperwork into a binder, and hooked that under one of her forelegs. “Your Majesty, Ms. Rarity,” she said, bowing to one and nodding to the other, then she vacated the room.

Twilight continued to stare at Rarity, who now stared back. Her mouth felt like cotton and her tongue stuck to her lips as she licked them. Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to talk, and all she managed was a quiet and unregally squeaky, “I’m sorry.”

Rarity sighed and broke the stare. “You don’t need to apologise,” was all she said before she stood up and left the room, leaving Twilight truly alone.

###

“Announcing, the arrival of Her Majesty Princess Twilight,” declared the magically enhanced, booming voice of the usher. It carried over the guests in the extravagantly decorated ballroom, and many of them turned their heads as Twilight entered through the tall double doors. A pair of royal guards flanked her entrance.

She didn’t quite fit her dress anymore. Her legs were too long, her barrel too broad, and her wings strained some of the stitching in the sparkling teal outfit. Some of the seams had popped only a few hours before, but she managed to fix it after some panicking. It was patchy, but it was just about hidden and hopefully would go unnoticed.

A lot of the heads turned back to each other, and the conspiratorial mutterings of a high class party began again. They probably noticed the hasty fixes. And the age of the dress.

Twilight swallowed, put on her best royal smile, and strode through the ballroom with purpose. That purpose was punch, or some of the hors d'oeuvres. Maybe she could find some professors from the city academies to chat up.

A well-dressed waiter crossed her path with tall flutes filled with something very bubbly. Without pause, Twilight delicately snatched one of the drinks in her magic and downed it in one swift motion. Now no one would question why her breath smelled of alcohol, though the strong scent of wine might stand out as odd.

She deposited the empty glass onto another passing waiter’s tray and grabbed a fresh glass, this one managing to survive not being guzzled down in seconds. Instead she sipped at it and actually registered the sweet, acidic taste. Twilight suppressed a grimace, and decided she still hadn’t acquired the taste, but appearances were important.

It didn’t take her long to find a group of ponies to talk to. Socialites and those with lofty aims all flocked to talk to her, and tonight was no different. She made small talk, commenting on the weather—”The weather patrol did a wonderful job tonight, didn’t they?”—foreign politics—”I did hear about that skirmish on the Wingbardian border. It’s a tragedy, really.”—and taking part in so many other inconsequential topics and discussions. The audience she accrued flowed and changed with the subject of conversation, and she barely noticed the myriad of different faces that went by. When she did, she faintly recognised them all, some she even recalled the names of, but they all blurred together.

The fuzz of the night came to a very sudden halt when a particular set of gleaming blue eyes appeared through the crowd. The clockwork motions of nodding and sipping one after the other clashed, and Twilight dribbled a splash of champagne down her chin and onto the floor as she caught Rarity’s gaze.

Blinking, Twilight stole a handkerchief from one of the nearby stallions to dab at her chin and the front of her dress. She ignored the delightful squeal he made when she tossed it over her shoulder and pushed her way into another circle of conversation. There was a brief grumble and muttering from her new immediate neighbours, but recognition of who she was stole away their protests.

“Rarity?” she asked, interrupting the conversation. Everypony around her went quiet, turning their attention to Twilight. She cleared her throat and straightened herself up, ignoring the warmth growing in her cheeks.

Rarity, immaculately dressed, raised her eyebrows and scooted back a step. She tugged on something, and that’s when Twilight noticed her hoof was wrapped around a stallion’s leg. He blinked from behind a pair of broad lensed glasses, and glanced back to Rarity. She seemed to loosen her grip, and took another half step back before he spoke.

“Ah, you two are acquainted?” he asked with a sly smirk. Rarity stopped where she stood and straightened up. A little twitch of her eyes and lips briefly caught Twilight’s attention. She was suppressing a pout meant for him, Twilight was sure.

“Yes,” Twilight answered. “We were, ah…” She trailed off, looking back at Rarity.

“You know we used to be married, Mint,” Rarity said in Twilight’s silence.

The stallion chuckled and nodded. “Yes, yes, who couldn’t forget you were the Princess Consort.”

Rarity stiffened up, then gave her head a little shake. In the process she replaced the tiny hint of a frown she wore with a tight, perfect smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Twilight, darling,” she said, and Twilight’s legs tingled, “I wasn’t expecting you here. How have you been?”

Twilight thought the surprise a little odd, but she didn’t push the issue. Her mouth felt like cotton, and she licked her lips while entirely forgetting her drink.

“I’ve been… Good,” she answered, fighting to keep her voice level. “What about you, how have you been? How are your businesses?” Twilight wanted to curse at herself.

Rarity licked her lips now, and there was a subtle shift in her jaw, a hint at a remark that she choked back. Twilight now noticed the bags under her eyes, having barely changed since last they met. “I’ve been good,” Rarity said back. “Business has been… A little underwhelming this past season or two, but I’m keeping afloat. It is what it is, I suppose.” She then looked to the stallion. “Mint, you didn’t say Twilight would be here.” Her voice was much flatter, letting the annoyance ring through.

“Why wouldn’t you know I would be here?” Twilight asked before he could answer. “I thought everyone invited knew I was coming.”

Mint chuckled again, and gestured to Rarity. “Ah, she was my plus one,” he explained, and Twilight winced as she realised Rarity wasn’t invited by the hosts directly. “Speaking of, did you bring anyone with you?”

Twilight swallowed, glancing back to Rarity. “No,” she said truthfully. “I came alone, or as alone as I can anyway,” she added, referencing her guards. She glanced over her shoulder for a brief moment and spotted one set of gleaming gold armour at the edge of the room.

“What a shame,” said Mint. “I was hoping to see who you’d bring tonight. It’s a pity, but I suppose we can’t expect everyone to move on so quickly.” Rarity shot him a brief scowl, which he either ignored or didn’t notice in the first place. “I’ll leave you two to catch up and grab my dear Rarity a quick drink, shall I?”

Twilight clenched her jaw as he smirked at her before turning to chase down a passing waiter.

“So…” Twilight started, shifting her gaze back to Rarity. “He’s your date?”

“Not after tonight he isn’t,” Rarity replied snappishly.

“Sorry.”

Rarity sighed. “You have nothing to apologise for. He’s just an ass.”

The rest of the circle around Rarity and Twilight glanced at each other, and began muttering. Rarity smiled with amusement, and this time it did reach her eyes. Twilight relaxed, then gestured with her head to one side of the ballroom. Rarity’s expression sobered, but she nodded and let Twilight lead the way. They moved through the throng of ponies, and eventually exited through a set of large doors to a balcony.

Fewer ponies were out here. The frost that built up in in the air before Twilight’s nose gave her the reason why. It gave the two of them enough privacy, Twilight decided.

“I can’t believe you still have that old thing,” Rarity said, her voice pitched lower now they were away from the bulk of the noise. “It barely fits on you, and—” She glanced over Twilight’s side. “—it looks like you’ve fixed it yourself, no offense.”

“That’s because I did,” said Twilight. “Some taken.” Not that Twilight expected her sewing to compare to Rarity’s hoofwork.

Rarity nodded. “Well, I certainly hope the rest of your wardrobe fits better.”

The two stood in silence for a few moments. Rarity looked over the edge of the balcony, and Twilight followed her gaze to the glittering streets of Canterlot below. Twilight imagined the vibrant nightlife, of other upper class parties, of the clubs towards the outer edges of the city. She wondered if there was anypony else that felt as awkward as she did right now.

“How are the others?” Twilight asked, breaking the silence.

Rarity huffed. “You could always ask them yourself.”

Twilight frowned, and she hoped the night hid it. “Rarity, that’s not—”

“They all wonder what’s happened to you, you know,” Rarity continued, talking over Twilight. “You used to visit regularly, and invite the rest of them over. Now they’re half convinced you forgot Ponyville even exists at all.”

Silence followed, and Twilight shivered, as much from the cool night air as the icy fire emanating from the mare beside her. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“At least [i]that [/i]is actually your fault,” Rarity said bitterly. “And yet it feels like they’re judging me some of the time, Rainbow Dash especially. She thinks I gave up on you because I was being selfish.” She harrumphed. “Selfish, me of all ponies.”

Twilight couldn’t think of anything to say. She swallowed, and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“And my businesses… I had to take out a new mortgage on the Carousel Boutique to keep things afloat. Fewer ponies buy from me or commission me since we—since our—” Rarity shook her head. “The ‘ex-Royal Consort’ doesn’t really have the same allure to it. I thought that would make me feel more gratified in my work, but this is undue judgement.”

Twilight looked up at the crescent moon in the sky, on the path she had set for it earlier that evening. “I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice creaking, and she turned back to Rarity.

“Oh will you stop bloody apologising,” Rarity snapped. “Half of everything out of your mouth has been—” Rarity was shut up as Twilight leaned in and kissed her. With her eyes closed tight, she couldn’t see the unicorn’s reaction, but after a few moments Rarity shoved at Twilight’s shoulder and broke the kiss. Twilight, cheeks flushed and guilt in her heart, leaned back.

Rarity stared up at her, and a range of expressions crossed her face. Her brow knitted in anger, her own cheeks red, visible through her pale coat, and her mouth slack and open. Twilight prepared for the lashing she just interrupted to resume with vigour, and was surprised when Rarity spoke.

“You’ve been drinking,” was all she said.

Twilight blinked, and glanced inside. She spotted Mint with two drinks held aloft in a silvery glow, looking lost. “It [i]is[/i] a party,” she explained flatly.

“I can taste the wine we were saving for our tenth, Twilight.” Rarity settled on an expression that Twilight read as judgemental. “That technically wasn’t yours to open.”

Twilight bit her lip, and looked back to Rarity. “Sorry.”

Rarity puffed up, then she shut her eyes tight. She brought a hoof to her chest, breathed in deeply, and exhaled deeply. “It’s… nothing to worry about,” she said, opening her eyes. “If I had it, I’d have drunk it months ago.”

Twilight smirked for a moment. “I still have some left,” she said. “I can give you the rest. It is both of ours, after all.”

Rarity snorted. “I’m not so sure I want to set hoof in the palace.”

Twilight shied back, and looked back out over Canterlot, and beyond it. She squinted, trying to pick out the lights of a small town on the horizon. “I should visit to Ponyville again…” Between the light pollution and difference in terrain, she couldn’t spot the town from where she stood. “I’m just scared of what I’ll feel when I get there, of how the others might react…”

Rarity blinked. “Oh Twilight, darling…”

“I don’t blame you for that,” Twilight said back. “It is because of you, sure, but it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” She looked toward Rarity again. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the soft frown on Rarity’s face, the lines in her forehead. She kept herself from laughing at a comment Rarity made about worry lines in the past. “Can we try again?”

“Try what again?” Rarity asked. “If you mean our marriage, I think we’re a little late for that.”

Twilight shook her head. “Just being friends,” Twilight responded. “I want you back in my life, and the others too. It doesn’t need to be more than that.”

Rarity thought for a few moments, then nodded. “I think we can do that.” She smiled, and the icy air around Twilight felt a little warmer.

[kon-konk]

In the flashback where Kuro first meets Lawless, there was an explanation about subclasses and that Lawless said that there are different types of subclass made. Guildenstern is a type 5 subclass because he was turned by the fifth Servamp Lawless. Does this also mean that all of Tsubaki's subclass are type 8 if we go by which Servamp who sired them? There is something I am wondering about, Freya's ability relates to wrath having a shield and a weapon. Would this also mean that Freya's subclass have powers based on offensive or defensive abilities like Ray and Gil have?

To me, it's almost as if the different Servamps could slot into different rpg classes (some aren't conventional, but still).

Since Lawless called Guil a type 5 subclass, I'd gander to guess that each Servamp does constitute their own type (at least, that's probably how Germaine was documenting it) with their subclasses being labeled under it.

I assume most subclasses take after their sire in power in some way, like Tsubaki's subclasses being more prone to magic-like powers and Tsubaki himself having a much more magic-like ability in his katana (I think I'll refer to type 8 subclasses as "mage-type"). Or Jeje's subclasses (type 3, I guess?) seeming more like they're ambush attackers than standard assault (maybe stealth-type?). Type 5 is one I'd almost call "knight-type" considering Guil and the way they so willingly donned mascot outfits for Lawless (who else would do that but a knight loyal to their sire?).

Hugh and Lily are both more "support class" style.

Hugh's are what I'd call "intelligence-type" (like intelligence gathering/info broker), since they seem to get Hugh the info he needs really easily (and he doesn't seem to use them for much else than that).

Lily's (type 7) are more outliers here, where the majority appear to lean more towards the compliment to him rather than being similar to him (I'd call them "children-type"/"cared-for-type" where he is more the "parent-type"/"caregiver-type") though maybe that's an indicator of what he wishes he could be (not getting too deep into it, but he did turn into a baby after the jinn incident...so maybe he wants to be cared for rather than being the one caring?). He's not much for combat, so I guess him having a subclass type that related to it wouldn't make much sense, but they're not exactly any kind of support-type, either (though I think there's probably a couple of exceptions, I just can't remember them clearly at the moment).

We have no idea what Kuro's might be like since he has none. Same with Ildio. (Though I do suspect one of theirs would be the "hero-type"/willing to sacrifice themselves for the sake of those they care about.)

This brings us to Freya and her subclasses (uh...that's type 4, I think?). I do think they'd be more the defense/offense-duo-type, and I feel like most of her subclasses will come in pairs like Ray and Gil since even her offense/defense set of abilities can be split into two. I suppose we'd have to see more of them to really know, but I'd be willing to bet that many of hers do have a "shielder" type of ability (either in combination with their own warrior-type ability or paired with another subclass with that). This could also refer to their personality, such as one being more willing to protect another from an attack (physical or verbal) than an full-on ability.

[willowelijah]

Headdesking - Remus Lupin/OC

Read the rest

Summary: Follow Remus Lupin bury his head in various pillows as his friends tease him about a crush he’s developed on the girl they recruit to assist them in their mission to become animagi.

Content warnings: Swearing. Some angst.

Chapter 2: An Agreement

Things were tense in the greenhouses.

The boys had placed themselves suspiciously close to Hazel as they all tended to their weaving plants, but she was still doing a pretty good job of ignoring them.

Remus on the other hand was keeping his distance, and he had placed himself far away from them. Half because he was ashamed of himself, and half because he refused to go along with their plan.

Sirius nudged James on his side. Their eyes met and he mentally willed James to think of an opener with Hazel. Upon giving in to Sirius he studied the nail on his thumb for a second, considering potential openers.

They were all worried that the girl was going to refuse to help them all-together after Remus had insulted her at breakfast, but in the hope that it was not fully over yet James ran a hand through his hair and turned to Hazel, who was deeply entrenched in a book on the side of attempting to weave her vines into a lattice.

James read the title of her book aloud in an attempt to gain her attention, "The Adventures of Cliodna..."

With only a slight delay she managed to tear her gaze from her book and stop her fingers tending to the branches of her tree. She looked quizzically at James.

"You know..." he leant in with his chin cocked forward to try and keep her eyes on him "...while Remus might not want your help, we really do. And we'd hate for you to turn us away just because of something our friend said."

Sirius sat forward and interjected, "Besides, Remus isn't even the one who's going to be attempting the transformation."

"Yeah!" James continued, more enthusiastically. "If you did choose to help us, you'd only be helping us and not him." He tilted his head in the general direction of Remus, who was currently trying very hard to ignore his friends and the girl they were talking to.

Once they had put their case forward, it was Hazel's time to respond. She pursed her lips, and the boys bit theirs, thinking that it was going to be at best a definite maybe. But to their surprise she casually chimed "Sure!" a moment later.

"Really?" the three boys said at once.

"Of course. I want to help you." she explained. "Becoming an animagus is no game, and I've seen what can happen if it goes wrong. The more help you get from me, the better chance you have at not screwing it up."

The boys looked at each other, ever so slightly deflated. Slowly but surely they were beginning to realise that the odds were stacked against them.

"Right." James responded unsurely.

But Hazel hadn't noticed a drop in enthusiasm. She continued her spiel, "It's a big tradition in my family, and like I said, I have a lot of knowledge on the subject." Her fingers began prodding her plant again. "So who's going to be attempting it?"

Sirius used his thumb to motion at all three of them. Hazel's eyes widened for a split second, before she caught herself and looked back at her plant. "So why isn't Lupin becoming an animagus then?" she asked with strained casualty.

No one spoke immediately. Eventually James took the reign, but only managed to let out an, "Uuuh..."

Hazel's gaze dropped. She tried to bend another branch, but the wood had become ever so slightly more rigid. "It's because of me, isn't it? He has a problem with me?"

"Well..." James slipped out. The three looked at each other again. In actuality neither of them knew whether Remus had a problem with her, or why he had acted the way he had. What they did know however was that whether he had a problem with her or not, it wasn't the reason for him not becoming an animagus. But they couldn't tell her that part. So they stayed awkwardly silent instead.

When none of them answered, the truth seemed quite clear to Hazel. "He doesn't know me." she quietly defended herself.

*

The boys had managed to convince Hazel to sit with them at lunch so that they could discuss the matter further. When Remus subsequently joined them she looked up at him blankly. He hesitated when he noticed the girl squeezed in between Sirius and Peter on the opposite side of the table, but sat down grudgingly nonetheless.

Hazel's blank expression was mistaken for something other than what it was, because James immediately jumped in to explain. "I hope it's okay that Remus joins us. He kind of has to be here or we're not going to get anywhere." He chuckled at the truthfulness of the statement and met Remus' eyes next to him.

"Why is that?" Hazel asked.

"Remus is the brains of the operation you see." Sirius chimed in. "And we have very little chance of succeeding at this, as well as most things in life, unless he's here to help."

Remus twisted uncomfortably in his seat and kept his eyes squarely pointed at an arbitrary spot on the table. Hazel's eyebrows contorted. It hadn't slipped her notice that Remus was exceedingly clever. She did share a few classes with him after all. However she did feel inclined to mention that she, being an animagus and having the background that she had, was all the help they'd need. Ultimately she decided to let the remarks slide.

Sirius leaned forward and turned his head toward the girl. "So what's the first step then, Hazel?" he rubbed his hands together and grinned wickedly, "And how many rules does it involve breaking?"

Hazel, not quite catching his excitement, assured him, "Not to worry. The first step is to acquire a mandrake leaf for each of you. I'm on quite good terms with Professor Sprout and I'm sure that she'd be more than willing to help us out."

She finished to an evident anticlimax. The air seemed to have gone out of the boys and they simply stared at her. Except for Remus. He'd been checking his wristwatch for the past minute or two — it was mounting up to becoming the new world record for time spent doing so.

"We will not need to break any rules." she clarified, albeit to an unimpressed audience.

"Seems easy enough." Peter asserted half-heartedly.

"Yes." She tucked her hands between her thighs and smiled appreciatively, happy to receive any form of response. "In fact I'd be more than happy to get them for you."

"Great!" James exclaimed. Then his eyes went wide suddenly. "Although you can't tell her what it's for." he added as an afterthought.

Hazel raised her eyebrows. Remus finally looked up from his wristwatch then, and his curious eyes met hers briefly. When they did, it seemed to be the last straw to make him give up on the unfolding conversation entirely and prop a book up on the table, which he timidly went on to engross himself in.

She focused back on James. "Surely it will be quite obvious what it's for though, won't it?"

"Make up some lie." James suggested off-handedly.

Remus turned the page.

"Lie?" Hazel rubbed her palms against her robe absentmindedly. "To a teacher?" She tried her best to get her head around the concept, but soon abandoned the prospect. "What can I even say that sounds believable enough? It's not like there are a whole lot of uses for lone mandrake leaves."

Sirius scoffed and put one arm on the table, "You'd be surprised how gullible the teachers at this school can be. Especially Professor Sprout."

James smiled. "What you have there is a golden ticket to getting away with pretty much anything unscathed."

Hazel breathed out deeply, as if to calm herself. "I don't see why I can't just tell her that it's for—"

"Ssssshhh!" James and Sirius let out in unison. Remus still had his eyes plastered on his book despite the commotion and Peter looked around to make sure no one had noticed. His eyes fell on Lily Evans' figure, who had stopped in her tracks right behind James and Remus at the sound of the loud shush, and who was currently looking suspiciously down at the gang.

Lily's suspicious aspect soon melded into a smirk and she announced her presence, "Hello idiots."

The girl flicked her long red hair over her shoulder and decidedly flung one leg after the other over the bench, landing her between James and Remus.

James gave her a pleased smile, whereas the latter of the two frowned in discontent at having to scoot away slightly.

The redhead put her arm around James and looked quizzically over at Remus' demeanour. Then her green eyes trailed away slightly, finding Hazel. "Found someone new to torment I see." she commented, then threw a nut into her mouth with her other hand and chewed.

"Well Evans, you keep refusing to become our official fifth member, so we are holding auditions." James said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Right." she replied. "And what mischievous escapade is it today? I need to know how far away I need to keep myself."

"...And I prefer as much detail as possible on what's about to go down, please." she quickly added. "I'll use it to calculate the exact distance I need to stay at — I like to have it down to the inch."

James was adorning a fully fledged grin at this point. He was gazing at the girl, but didn't look like he had any intention of replying, so Sirius spoke up, "We've taken on a new project, you see. It's kind of secretive at the moment."

James managed to snap out of his daze long enough to whisper a more detailed explanation of what their plan was into her ear.

Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded slowly.

"Given the delicate nature of the matter, perhaps we should postpone this conversation to a more convenient time and place?" Sirius suggested in his most diplomatic voice. "May I suggest a secluded part of the library?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, but Lily was still having trouble piecing everything together. "Hold on, but so... why do you need Pembroke?"

James was about to lean over and whisper to her again, but before he could, Peter began blabbering, "Because she's a registered—"

"Ssssshhh!" Sirius and James once again erupted.

Even Remus' eyes shot up from the comforts of his book, thinking that the subject matter might have been about to be compromised. Although not without maintaining an almost scornful façade. He didn't want anyone thinking that he actually cared. Then his eyes made the mistake of landing on the very girl in question.

Lily also looked over at Hazel, her mouth having made an o-shape as she caught on to where the sentence had been headed.

Hazel sat pondering the boys' intentions. It was becoming more and more evident to her that they were not planning to do this in the most conscientious way. It troubled her, but this was not the right time to bring it up. Sirius was right, she would have to wait until a more convenient time.

She then happened to notice that Remus was beholding her — his book now abandoned and any sign of derision having been wiped clean off his face. The boy quickly averted his gaze, but it was too late, he'd been caught in the act and while looking much too appreciative of the circumstances.

"Hazel knows a lot about this particular subject, and we are going to need all the help we can get." Sirius explained after having successfully scolded Peter with his eyes. "So, should we say 7 p.m. tomorrow in the library?"

But apparently her qualifications didn't quite meet the standards for some people...

Remus shut his book abruptly. "And while you're in the library," he began — the first words he had uttered since sitting down, "why don't you just pick up a book on animagi?" He ignored the shushes he received at his use of the word, and went on, "Then you won't have to go through all this trouble." he muttered, looking between his mates, ignoring the person in between Sirius and Peter. He didn't need to look at her though for her to understand that the trouble he was referring to — was her.

Peter peered over at James and Sirius. Their eyes had met, and they seemed to be actually considering it for a second.

Hazel was not going to let the idea plant any roots however. "Good luck with that. There's not a single book on how to become an animagus in the Hogwarts library."

Remus scoffed, but looked around at his friends instead of at her. "You're lying."

"I'd be happy to show you if you'd like." she suggested confidently.

His cheeks tinted into a very light shade of pink, barely noticeable, but he ignored the fact and actually found her face among the group. "How can there not be a single book on it in there?" he sneered, looking intently at her.

Despite the boy's cynicism, Hazel was happy to explain. It was like child's play to her. "Because it's not dark magic." she attested. "So it can't be in the restricted section. Therefore there's no way that they can monitor or dictate who reads it, which is why they simply don't have it. If they did, most little twelve-year-olds running around here would attempt the spell, inevitably resulting in all kinds of disfigurations. They don't want to be complicit."

Remus looked at her incredulously, but she only smiled at the surly look on his face. He wasn't going to come up on top in this subject. She was too knowledgeable. It boggled her that he would even try.

"We need her, Remus." James stated.

"With or without Pembroke, you guys' chances of completing this spell successfully are about as slim as Potter's chances of going out with me." Lily said and squeezed James patronisingly with her arm.

Sirius laughed heartily.

"I'll take those chances." James smirked, evidently relishing in being graced by her arm. He dragged a hand through his hair.

But Hazel wasn't laughing. She squinted intently at Remus, who was doing his best to meet her contemptuous gaze. Only after she broke their eye contact and stood did Remus let out the breath he was holding.

"The library tomorrow at seven." she confirmed to the others, and left with a stride in her step.

When she did, Remus finally relaxed. But along with a sense of relief came a bout of dread. He stared wistfully off after her, grabbed his book and sunk his head down into it, eventually planting his whole face onto the page.

The others were still giggling at Lily's comment, as well as buzzing in anticipation for the coming evening. But Lily cocked her head to the side and beheld Remus' curious behaviour.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSwxFtyJrOE

A/N: I've changed James and Lily's relationship slightly because I never liked how pushy James is and how passive Lily is. I wanted her to feel like she had more agency, rather than how she is often depicted. I also wanted to emphasise her witty and spunky side seeing as she is described as funny by Slughorn.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Baked and Battered (4/4)

Summary: It’s the classic story: Boy meets girl, Sumpsnipe meets Promenade-brat, baker meets rebel. And then it becomes so, so much more than that, for both of them.

(Inspired by @sweatandwoe​ & Secret Ingredient, a must-read)

Warnings: SFW. Baker!Reader, romance, revolutionary-shenanigans, young love, time-skip, bit of world-building, hurt/comfort, humor, angst, reunion, happy-ending

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"Do you want a basket for that?" 

Owlish, this time, two pairs of gleaming eyes whirl-around to meet you. Both brighter than the one from years, upon years ago... or maybe your memory is just getting old. You, certainly, have not grown any younger in the passing years, but you hope those memories from your childhood you hold dear, don't turn gray and murky just yet. 

Memories are all that's left. 

"If you ask nicely, I might even be tempted to give you something fresh," You bargained, biting the inside of your cheek to hide a grin, while the pink-haired girl scowled. Honestly, it was like the child could sniff-out humor. 

"Askin' nice doesn't get you anywhere, lady," Violet said,  crammed-mouth full of buttered biscuits. Savory, not sweet for her, you remembered fondly. "Usually, all asking leads you to, is owing somebody." 

"And we already spent our allowance,'' chirped Violet's sister. Powder, hilariously, seemed to be utterly transfixed by the powdered-sugar coated honey-buns you had fixed up in the front-display, but didn't dare to touch them, and only took mournful nibbles of the biscuit her sister split with her. You imagined it had something to do with her report on her monthly coin-allowance. "Claggor and Mylo wouldn't split theirs for us to get a bite. Jerks." 

"Well, would you have split yours?" 

"No." 

Well, points for honesty. 

And such a virtue deserved an extra sort of reward, something of the sweets-variety, so you made sure when you grabbed the basket, tuck in a few extra, fresher honey-buns into the collection... before handing one to Powder, who immediately ditched the biscuit to begin gobbling up the stickier treat. 

"You're supposed to share these, you know," Eyeing Violet with your words, the pink-haired girl grinned with all her teeth as she snatched the basket from you. One could swear, blood or not, she was well on her way to inheriting the wolfish grin of the Hound of the Underground. 

"Never heard of it. 'Til next time, lady!"

Powder at least had the manners to wave, even as her elder sister snatched her hand, all but bolting them both out of the place while you shook your head, weary, but fond. Sumpers through and through... no matter how many times you assured them, none of your words seemed to fully erase the seed of distrust that had been planted from infancy inside them, and only growing more with every passing-day in the Underground...

"They're good kids," Vander assured you, later, blunt nails tapping out a hollow beat on his glass. This didn't happen often - this meeting. Neither you had the time, the chance... the spirit for it, really.

It was a silent agreement that these meetings, between a Promenade baker and the de facto leader of the Lanes, was nothing more than continuing a habit. Not that... you hated him. Or didn't miss him. But his presence, no matter how large it was, wasn't quite enough to fill the emptiness the room held between you. A void that couldn’t be filled, a yawning gap between you that, no matter how hard either of you tried, deep down, you both knew it was destined to stay empty.

"I know," You said simply, pushing the last of the tray of cookies into the coolbox, in preparation for tomorrow. "Better than you lot were, anyway. They at least wait, and take what's offered - not whatever strikes their fancy. Remember that time you tried to take a whole cake?"

"It looked good."

"A wedding cake, Vander?"

Gray eyes nearly turned silver with his laugh, one that you joined after a moment of a pointed, unamused brow raised in his direction. 

It settled back into silence... not quickly, but the memories could only last so long. It’s almost scary how quickly the Lanesman goes from the Sumper from your childhood, to an old, old man.

Janna, you both aren’t that old, but Vander looks like he has lifetimes piled onto him.

“‘M sorry. Keepin’ an eye on them to keep ‘em from trouble, would take an army, and I got only got me... ‘zo every thursday.”

"You know it's no trouble, they're always welcome here," You assure him with a shake of your head, tilting your head around his form to gaze out the door with a fond smile. You never imagined kids would be in your cards... nor in Vander's. But the moment he came in, two pairs of bright blue eyes peeking around him up at you - with two little boys quick to follow, mere months later - you had felt a burst of warmth inside you. 

Oh, they could claim they were 'grown' now, and Zaunite-independence had nestled deep inside their bones to fuel such independent spirits. That didn't stop the warmth that bloomed inside you at their occasional-visits, the thought tempting to imagine the occasional being permanent. A treacherous temptation, one that dangerously toed the line between the odd-sort of aunt you had become to them... and something you never got the chance to be.

Quick to brush away dreams, of chances, wants, dreams, of a family that could never be, you instead reach over, managing a smile as you rested your hand over Vander’s - yours was practically miniature in size, but when you squeezed it gently, your friend glanced up to you, “Vander, it’s fine. They’re welcome... I'm happy to have the kids here, you know that.”

You smile, and Vander’s eyes grow sad. Despite the soft grin, he sees beyond it, and you can’t even find the time to smile wider to dissuade him before he’s murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

“I told you, I don’t-”

“I’m sorry,” He says again, in a hoarse whisper, and you both know he’s not talking about the kids anymore. You pull your hand away, swallowing, reaching for his plate instead.

“I... you know I am, right? I’ve never forgiven myself... for you, for him.” Vander’s voice grows so heavy, it’s as if another lifetime, another fallen-life, has fallen onto his shoulders. You attempt to relieve the burden, by telling him you know.

You know, and that doesn’t fix a damn thing.

“All we can do is look forward, Van,” You say, the rushing water in the sink as you clean plates and trays - almost a comfort in the heavy-silence between you. “Look to our future, to our kids. It’s gonna be their turn, soon enough, we ought to make sure they have a bright one.”

“Brighter than we ever got,” He agrees, pauses, then asks hesitantly, like asking any favors of you was crass at best, unthinkably cruel at worst, “Would you be able to help with that?”

“Babysitting?” 

“Nah, just... you remember how I was. How we were.” 

Understatement of the year, but you nodded, drying off your hands with a nearby towel before crossing your arms, eyes curious. Vander took a moment, drumming his fingers loudly on the counter, “Just... keep an eye out on ‘em. There’s been talk.”

He didn’t look surprised when you stiffened, your face growing pale. The last time there had been talk, Enforcer patrols started to ramp up again. Last time, talk had led many independent voices to grow quieter, disillusioned with yet another cycle of raids, patrols, arrests, and even worse things. Talk hadn’t made leadership any easier, as seen by decisions, choices from Vander that seemed to change, flipping on the daily, hourly...

The last time, talk had led Vander, and those still willing to fight, onto the Bridge. There was no talking after, when all that walked-off that bridge was Vander, and two little girls.

Vander knows, and remembers in perfect clarity - that’s why grief, guilt and understanding pass in his gaze, in rapid succession to his quick assurance, “I just - somethin’ happens to be, anything at all... make sure the kids are okay, ‘right? I shouldn’t ask but... I’d give me some peace of mind.”

The feeling is mutual, and despite the uncertainty, there's a determination inside that's already made the decision for you.

"Of course." A pause, and Vander looks at you, still weary, like he knows exactly what you're going to ask, and isn't sure how he can tell you. "It's... you aren't-?"

"No. 'M not the one talking, sweetheart," His hand travels - not to your own, but to another point of comfort. Comfort, and by the way his hand hovers over the wrapped-band around a decades' old scar, maybe a curse as well. "It's just talk. It'll quiet."

That's the hope, but you learn not to lean on such a concept too much. Once upon a time, you hoped for a lot of things, a brighter future most of all. Now, you know better.

And you know better than to allow yourself to be blind with what's happening around you - you did that once, with what was happening right in front of you, and you lost him because of it. Pushing aside the guilt, the pain and the mourning from such memories, you instead raise your chin up, keep to work as usual, but this time, you promise yourself to pay attention.

People talk at your counters. Bitter discussions of rising rent, trade Topside imports, regulations... it's talk, but as you smile and chuckle, sneak treats to particularly effective puppy-eyed kids and swap pleasantries with worn-down adults, you carefully pluck out bits and pieces of the different conversation, until a picture starts to form, and you start getting suspicions that talk, is slowly but surely becoming much, much more than that.

And when it does, you start to take better notice of the details around you - specifically, of the person on surveillance across from your shop. 

You feel like a fool for not taking note of them earlier - subtly is not a top-priority, but considering how quickly you had been able to sniff out the presence of a snipe in your kitchen as a mere child, it’s almost embarrassing how, as an adult, it takes you too long to realize there’s another kind of street-kid standing-guard just outside your shop window.

Still, he’s no better. It takes three-days of you eyeing him pointedly, periodically sweeping an already spotless front-entrance, and finally, a purposefully placed plate of cookies on the window-still, and a pointed removal of the bell hanging over the front-entrance.

But the kid isn’t skilled with stealth, and you’d been managing your bakery for years... not to mention you were quicker. 

Pale-blue eyes narrowed at you, after they had blown wide at your fast movements around the counter and then they became even slimmer as they glanced between you, and the plate of cookies you held just out of reach.

“Talk."

“I'm... not supposed to.”

“But you’re talking now. Which means you can keep talking.” 

The boy - little older than Violet - scowls, and glances between you, the door... but eventually, his gaze returns to the plate of food. 

It takes a master, skilled at years of resisting temptation and battling against gluttony, to resist a plate of freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookies. But this is a boy smack in the middle of his teenage years, and you’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him take so much as a drink to consume on his now-daily watches of your shop, let alone a lunch. 

He doesn’t just talk when the temptation becomes too much for him to even hope to talk control of. The kid all but sings-out, exactly what you want to know, and also exactly what you never asked for.

"These streets? Practically handed to me, not like there was much competition!"

"Uh-huh..."

"Seriously! I'm probably his favorite... no, his apprentice of sorts. Probably gonna take over some-day, get up-there with the big-leagues for sure. That's why he's been testin' me, you see, he totally thinks I'm the next big-deal this town's gotta watch out for...!"

"Standing guard outside a mid-class bakery - that counts as a test?"

Bless the kid's heart, he looks more confused than offended at your unconvinced-tone, "Ye-es?

You have this pestering habit to take pity on the street-urchins in the world, and even the ones with false-bravado and an abundance of arrogance earns your sympathy, and you had him another chocolate-chip between your wiping of the counters, waiting for the timer to go off on the oven. "Alright, I'll bite then - what kind of man gives a test of guard-duty at a little old bakery?" It's said as casually as possible, but the boy still stiffens, crumbs and a smear of milk chocolate at the corner of his mouth - you're too invested in your private investigation of such unusual activity, to chide yourself by spoiling yet another child from the streets. Claggor, Vi, Mylo and Powder were bad enough, not to mention your very, very first, years ago...

"Er... I dunno. Just do what I'm told, there seems to be a rotation for this job,” His convincing does little good, but he manages to avoid your peering gaze as you hum thoughtfully. This sparks a defensive side, as the blonde straightens and lifts his chin challenging, "Hey, I don't have to tell you anything, lady-!"

You interrupt him to pleasantly tell him your name and without skipping a beat, he snarkily gives his own, "Deckard, and like I was saying - and it's a need-to-know basis," He stresses. "I need to know, and m'boss needs to know, but you? You don't need to know anything."

“Then I suppose you don’t need these snacks,” You say, calm as can be as you take the plate, send a silent prayer for forgiveness, before turning it over the trash-can beside the counter. 

Deckard gaps, and looks just a little heartbroken at the loss of a good snack. You keep your expression flat to avoid looking the same at the sacrifice for answers. "No wonder he likes you so much - you're evil, lady."

"Your boss likes me?” Interesting, and something that piqued your already-heightened curiosity in regards to this so-called ‘boss’ of this kid. “Because what I've picked up, he likes discussing other, more dangerous topics than that of a bakery,” Plainly, you toss the words over your shoulder as the timer goes off. Fetching your mitts, you soon pull out the mini-pies, and aroma of spices and apples filling the shop. 

One of your favorites, but it didn’t necessarily bring joy - only a sensation of melancholy, even as you set them out to cool on the awaiting rack.

“Like I said,'' The kid continues, ignoring your implications in favor of trying not to be salivating at the sight of the golden-crusted, fresh treats straight out of the oven. “You’re evil, lady. No wonder Silco’s got his eye on ya-”

Never.

Not once, in your years and years of living, and surviving in the most challenging location on the planet, did you ever burn your hands.

Such a feat was quite remarkable - your mentor, wherever they had ended up after abandoning you in the growing unrest of the early Rebellion, had once considered it a worthy-enough skill to take on an apprentice in their own craft.

You imagined, wherever the bitter old baker was, they were rolling at the thought of you clenching tight around a burning-hot tray and instantly dropping to your knees with a yell at the fiery-hot pain that cut through the cold that had spread through your body.

“Oh shit, are you okay-?!”

“I...” 

Closing your eyes, you inhaled, long and slow... exhaling the same way, trying to ignore the piercing throbbing in your flesh, and behind your skull.

Silco.

Was it foolish to hope? 

Foolish, and perhaps desperate to hope that it wasn’t just a coincidence? 

That one attempting to rekindle the fires of a revolution, that the one talking in the shadows, wasn’t some random punk stirring up age-old trouble, but-

Standing, you hold your burnt hand with eyes that are both laser-focused, and staring at a distance no one else could see, your heart pounding in time with the throbs of pain in your damaged-hand and the whirls your mind is making.

“... here.”

“I - wait, are you...?” The kid has more on his mind than your well-being, particularly as you’re quick to grab a to-go basket with your free hand, and, mitt firmly placed on, you transfer the cooling pies into the container for its journey. You force those same hands to stay steady as you tuck the cover over the fresh-baked goods, even while one is shaking - no. They both are, terribly so, but you succeed eventually, and slide the basket over to the teen.

“Here,” You say again, voice quiet, but firm. “Deliver that, take one for yourself while you’re at it.”

Deckard bristles, insulted and indignant with a whine in his voice, “I’m not your errand-boy, lady-!”

“It’s for Silco, too.” When was the last time you said his name, aloud? His story was not a tale to share with Vander’s kids, not to mention neither the Hound nor Benzo enjoyed reminiscing on the fallen. His name feels painfully, disgracefully unused on your lips... but, giving in to that speck of hope inside, you allow yourself to feel a hint of warmth at the idea of speaking his name again. At... the impossible, the painful thought, of not just hearing him, or speaking of him, but maybe, just maybe seeing the man you loved once-again.

It’s an impossible dream. One that hurts, warms, and angers you all at once - to the point of completely overshadowing the burns on your hand as you curl your fingers into a fist, voice firm as you give the order once more to Deckard.

“Go give this to Silco. He’ll know where to find more.”

He knows where to find me.

You just hope he comes.

That night, you’re finishing up everything early - dishes and utensils clean, the morning pastries and bread already prepped. Even the larger projects, like the cookie order for some birthday in the richer-section of the Alcoves, or the decorated wedding cake for two, are all prepared to be ready at a moment's notice.

You like to think you're prepared.

You aren't, but you like to think that you are - physically calm, hands clasped in a not-too tight grip, and your face smooth, almost impassive.

No one would ever be able to tell how you're mere seconds from tipping over the edge, or your heart is pounding so loudly that you're stunned the entirety of the Undercity isn't bracing for an earthquake. You keep that calm expression as you sit, and wait. Watching the door and watching as day-lights of the Undercity take on their more hazy shades to signal the coming of the evening, and the streets outside grow vacant with the day-crowd, and the people who live for the night claim the streets in the shadows.

You sit, and you watch, as evening turns into the proper night, and soon enough, even the night-owls begin to leave the streets. Body aching, and sore from sitting, it's almost a relief when the streets become, for the first time in hours, completely, and wholly empty.

He doesn't leave you waiting much-longer after that.

You raise your head - holding back a wince as your shoulder-muscles ache from the first movement in at least an hour - as a gloved subtly taps at the 'CLOSED' sign. 

He had to know it was unlocked. He had to know you were waiting.

Thankfully, Silco didn’t leave you waiting much longer.

You didn’t move, didn’t blink much, really. Only taking him in - older, not the boy you first met, not the teen you had journeyed the Undercity with. Not even the revolutionary, or the Son of Zaun you had once known, and had remembered him as.

You don’t know this man. You don’t know him, but you still struggle not to burst into tears the moment you lay eyes on him. Tears of joy, tears of pain... of loss, and of a sudden, hot burst of anger that flares to life at his first words to you, the very first thing he says after years and years of being separated from your side:

“You shouldn’t have fed him.”

Silco looks around, studying your shop like it was the most fascinating thing in the world as you sit there, not daring to blink, hardly allowing yourself the chance to breathe. “The boy needs to learn restraint. In both keeping his mouth shut, and to not take food from strangers... a boy he may be, but Janna knows he needs to learn.”

“I don’t know,” You say, astonished at how steady your voice is as you stand from your stool, walking around the counter with your hand wrapping around a rolling-pin you had brought for this occasion. “Last time I fed a kid on the streets, it turned out pretty fine.” 

Silco doesn’t look away from your eyes  - before, your shop might have been fascinating, but Silco looks at you like you’re something beautiful, and otherworldly. Something to be worshiped instead of standing stiffly, too-far-away from, something he’s been waiting eons for... Silco looks at you with absolute, unfiltered, unable-to-be-contained love.

And you almost, almost regret seeing it fade, when his eyes pop-out wide and he barely manages to avoid the first swipe of your rolling-pin.

You’re screaming, now. Something horrible - saying some horrible things, to be honest - as you attempt to land blow upon blow on this idiot, this bastard, this stupid, stupid cowardly man...

But Gods-know you aren’t a fighter, and Silco manages to side-step, duck and weave around every attempted smack, leaving you to strike uselessly at air.

Uselessly, from the way you have no battle prowess to speak off, and the fact your vision has become very, very blurry. At the realization, your arm droops, boneless as you heave-in breath after breath, stepping back as your free-hand comes up to wipe beneath your eyes and pressing your palm to it when that doesn’t clear the wetness under your eyes. The tears flow freely, without permission and without any sign of stopping, not even as you struggle not to sob.

It becomes even more difficult not to, when the rolling-pin is safely tugged free from your hand, and after a second’s pause of hesitation, long arms wrap around you. They’re tight like chains, unyielding after so, so long, but you’ve never felt lighter all your life - you’ve never felt so free, except right now, in the arms of a man you loved, thought dead, maybe hated just a bit for allowing you to think that...

But ultimately, you love him. There’s a thousand ingredients to make up exactly how you feel about Silco in this exact moment, but the most prominent is the deep, fierce and unrelenting love you feel for this absolute bastard that left you...

Said-bastard winces, and you don’t even feel guilty for saying that aloud.

“I had to,” He murmurs into your hair, not quite pleading, but there’s a pressing search for understanding. “Zaun... it needed my focus, my attention. I would’ve returned for you - I always planned on returning to you.”

"You returned too late."

"You don't mean that."

It sounds like Silco tries to convince himself of that as well, and the small, tight grudge inside you weakens immediately as you slump closer to him. "No, I don't," You whisper into his chest, blinking rapidly but still leaving wet-marks on the front of his ebony-vest, lined in gold. “...But you took a long, long time.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t... not even a goodbye. You didn’t even talk to me, before you stormed out.”

His arms, impossibly, go even tighter around you. The words sound like they have to be dragged out of him by hooks, but he manages to get the long-overdue words out, “I’m so sorry.”

“You should...” Trailing off, you just shake your head, pressing your face against his chest. Hard with leanly built muscles, warm and if you strain your hearing, there’s a rhythmic beat of his heart. Eyes slip close, and you focus on that beautiful melody of his heartbeat, not daring to mute it by speaking too loudly, “You should be.”

He was. Again... this man was not one you recognized, not entirely. The Silco you knew, the Silco you had loved and lost, would’ve greeted you with a smile, a smirk if he had done something mischievous, or had just returned from another impressive feat while working on the revolution for Zaun’s independence. That Silco wouldn’t hesitate to apologize for letting you think him dead...

Gods. The man even feels different.

Lean muscles remain, but they feel wiry, bred from a crueler survival than even that of the Lanes. There’s a certain desperation in the way he holds you, one that you never recalled him showing before... he grips you with fingers twitching in the physical-struggle not to curl into claws, claws that are used to clawing their way from the depths.

The depths of what, you’re unsure for now. You think you’ll find a clue on his face, and hesitantly peel your face off his chest to gaze up at him. For a moment, only one eye gazes back at you... it’s a stranger's eye, and a strange eye overall. Freezing under the glint of hellfire surrounding a circle of coal, you gaze up at Silco until his green-eye flutters open, meeting your gaze through a half-lidded, resigned gaze.

His arms grow slowly lax around you, releasing you in theory, but still lingering in-practice.

“Unsightly, but such is the appearance of monsters, no?” The man murmurs as if it were a joke, but it falls flat in the quiet way he speaks it, and he grows even quieter as your hand reaches up. 

Rough. The skin beneath his eye, permanently open and forever the colors of hell-itself, is rough in their graying, crackled ridges. You barely graze the skin, and yet you’re still surprised when the man doesn’t so much as twitch as you gently travel the pads of your fingers along the rough scars along his face, but despite your lack of medical knowledge, it doesn’t take a genius to imagine the nerves beneath the ruined skin, are as devoid of life as Silco’s eyes have become.

Resigned, and unreadable besides. Silco gazes at you with the patience of a man waiting for something terrible - and if he’s feeling anything close to how you feel, you imagine the most terrible thing he can imagine at this moment, is you flinching away from him.

He says as much, “I can leave. You won’t need to see me again... perhaps this was a mistake in the first place. But such a message deserved to be responded to in-person.”

“Oh, you didn’t come for a snack?” You hear yourself murmur, and it’s there. A flicker of light, bright and mirthful, and familiar in that seagreen gaze you had known so well, once upon a time. 

It’s gone in seconds. But it was there, and it’s more than you could’ve ever wished for.

“I’m serious. I can leave-”

“But you won’t,” Hand flattening fully along the rough scars, you cup the ruined-side of his face gently, then the other with an equally caring, bandaged hand, both of which Silco freezes at. “I won’t let you. Not again, Silco... never again.”

The assuring, firm note in your voice holds him still for a moment along with your hands, but he gives the faintest of shakes, tone equally firm, “I’m not the same man that left you. That man died, I'm the remainder of the man you knew, but no more than that.” The defense is met with only a raised brow from you, and Silco narrows the one he has remaining, the space between his eyes becoming pinched in his faint frustration at your nonchalant attitude. “I mean it. You don’t know me anymore... you don’t know the man I’ve become.”

He’s right, much as you loathe to admit it. You had been quick to regard this man as a stranger, and in some ways, he still seemed so, so strange to you.

What had happened? Why hadn’t he returned to you? Since when did he rely on the skills and structure of streetgangs, rather than the stronger-than-blood ties of his fellow revolutionaries?

What hurt him? Why had he become this way, to the point where your loving touches were met with hesitancy, with the distance of someone who has only imagined such affection for far, far too long?

A battered man stands before you - in your eyes, you had initially labeled him a stranger... and yes, in some ways, you needed to relearn this man for what he had become... and what he could be, now that he had returned to you, and there was no way you were letting him go again.

“It’s okay... I want to learn,” You say, a faint but genuine smile upon your face, and warm as you lean up. Silco grows frozen again at the third-point of touch that you offer, full of affection and love that makes your heart twist at how unused he seems to be from it...

But after a second, and very faintly, Silco melts at the gentle, faint kiss you press to his uneven lips.

“Thankfully... I baked some snacks,” You murmur, the beginnings of a small smile on your lips. “I imagine you’re used to introducing yourself over food. This’ll be... what, your second-time, right?”

There it is, again.

A glint of the man you used to know, the humor faint but there in his eye, and with it, something else shows itself. 

There’s a glint of hope, once more, inside you.

“The last introduction over food was... more than a bit unexpected. Made more so by your presence, if you recall. I think I'll prefer it this time, if I’m honest.”

“Because I made your favorites?”

A faint huff of warm breath brushes your face, before his lips are meeting yours in the hesitant, but first of many, many overdue kisses Silco has to offer.

“Because your presence is far, far more welcoming this time.”

On that, you can agree on. 

Because when Silco, united with you once again, kisses you, it feels like he’s welcoming you back to a place you can call home.

[piastrinorris]

Heart of a Lion

alternate AO3 link

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Reader (no pronouns/gendered terms)

Genre: fluff

Summary: Making friends with someone to get closer to the not-so-secret admirer who's been leaving notes in your locker yields far more interesting results.

Word count: 3513

Good morning!

The clouds may have cast a dark and gloomy curtain over Hawkins today, but the presence of your sunny disposition still radiates the entire school. I look forward to basking in your light in class today.

Yours, always,

The Cowardly Lion

You read the note that had been folded up into your locker door and grin, holding it close to your chest and breathing deeply. While the daily love letters cause split opinions among your friend groups, with some finding them creepy and some finding them romantic, you yourself agree with the latter. 

It had started with a Valentine’s Day card, way back at the start of the year. It had been left on your desk at homeroom. A pink card adorned with a cute hand-drawn cartoon lion holding a heart. Inside the heart was written “I’d be lion if I said you weren’t cute!” A lot of your classmates had turned their noses up at it when you revealed it, but you proudly slipped it beneath the clear cover of your binder and kept it there for the rest of the school year. Now it lives in its own box in your bedroom, along with all the notes you’ve received ever since… And some notes and doodles of your own. See, what your “secret” admirer doesn’t know, is that you know who it is.

You just wonder why someone with as much bravado as Steve Harrington needs to sneak around putting secret notes in your locker, rather than talking to you directly. It’s not like you’re unpopular. Maybe it’s because you don’t actually really fit into any of the “cliques” that Hawkins High thrives on? You’re not a band nerd, a newspaper nerd or a D&D nerd. You’re not a cheerleader, a swim team jock or close to any of the basketball or football jocks. You’re not one of the art, film or photography buffs. You’re not enough of a geek for any of the academic extracurriculars. And none of this is to say that you’re not friends with your classmates, you can always find someone to hang out with. It’s just never a consistent group. Maybe that’s why Steve won’t attach himself and his precious reputation to you.

You head into homeroom and it’s all abuzz. Your teacher does a little Secret Santa exchange between your class every year, where everyone gets a $5 spending limit to buy a gift for someone you pull randomly out of a box. Your friends usher you to go to the desk with the container on it, and you giggle. There's a high enough percentage that you'll select one of your friends, or a friend of theirs, that you'll be able to nail their gift, you think to yourself as you're mixing your hand around in the box.

Instead, the name you pull out is Jonathan Byers. Shit. The one kid who doesn't talk to anyone. Though a lot of your friends each run in their own social circles, one thing they all agree on is convincing you that it's not worth trying to talk to him. And even the one time you'd tried, last year when you were trying to find your place as The New Freshman in a town where everyone already knew everyone, he made it clear that he keeps himself to himself.

If you suddenly just start sitting close to him and trying to fire off questions, he’ll know you’re only doing it for gift research, and you don’t want to make him feel like you’re not interested in getting to know him. And besides, who knows what they “want” that would cost less than $5? 

By the time he skulks into the classroom, you’ve thought of the perfect strategy. He sits, out of the way, as always, and you approach his desk. You perch yourself on the edge of it and smile, “Hi, Jonathan!” He looks up at you, nods, then goes to root round in his bag. You continue, “Um, I think the secret Santa thing is ready to go this year.”

“And you have me? It’s fine, you don’t have to get me anything,” he offers you a small, pitiful smile.

“No!” you lie. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t miss out.”

“Thanks. I’ll just get the last one, like always,” he nods.

“I actually wanted to ask you about, um - you’re in Mrs Calman’s class for English too, right?” You ask, and he nods again. “I, uh, I can’t seem to get my head around the reading. Shakespeare’s writing, it just goes straight past me, y’know?” you chuckle. “Um, but you seem to do pretty well, so I was - I was wondering, would you mind helping me out? I promise, I’m not gonna try and mooch off your work, if you could just read through the book with me and help me make it make sense, I’d super appreciate it,” you grin.

He pushes his lips into a sideways smirk. “If that’s all you want, I can probably write up some notes for you, without taking up too much of your time.”

“It wouldn’t be taking up my time if we studied together,” you offer with a warm smile. “If that’s something that you want. Besides, getting you to write out the whole book would be insane,” you laugh, and his eyes grow wide.

“Yes! You’re right, you’re very right, that would be… Yes, I’ll talk you through it and you can write it down,” he nods.

“That’s how I learn best, anyways,” you nod with a smile. “What’s better for you, lunchtimes or after school?”

He shrugs, “I don’t exactly have a bursting social schedule,” he laughs quietly. “We could go to the library after school? Try and get as much of it out of the way quickly, and then you won’t be as confused for as long.” He looks up at you with a small smile. 

“Alright! I’ll meet you at the library then?” He nods in agreement, and you knock on his desk a couple of times before getting back up and joining your friends.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” One hisses, but you shush them.

“It’s fine, he’s helping me with my work. Just… Just lay off him, alright?” You won’t tell them, but there’s one further motive behind getting close to Jonathan. You know he and Steve have somewhat of a camaraderie, so maybe you can finally figure out what the best way is to approach him about his constant note-leaving.

~~~

As you’re sitting on the wall outside the library, you wonder whether Jonathan’s gotten cold feet over the whole thing. You know he’s been bullied before by being led to places that ultimately cause him harm, and you seriously hope that he doesn’t think that of you.

Thankfully, he pulls up and threads his way through everyone else to get to you. He actually looks excited, for once. You’ve never really seen any real, positive emotion on his face, but it suits him well. “Hi! You’re here.” The relief in his voice confirms all your suspicions.

“Of course I am! I’m tired of just seeing words like “cock-a-hoop” and having teachers expect me to believe that this is one of the greatest writers of all time,” you roll your eyes, and Jonathan chuckles, gesturing in front of him to silently invite you to start walking ahead into the library.

“Well, that is one of his more comedic words, his tragic and romantic storytelling is still far beyond anything most people come out with these days,” Jonathan rambles, before clearing his throat to stop himself. “But I get it, it can be pretty jarring to read cohesively if you’re not super invested in it, which school doesn’t really set you up for.”

You side-eye him with a smile as you both sit at a table. “I think this is the most I’ve heard you talk.” He becomes flustered, looking at you with eyes of fearful apology. “I like it, though.” You nod, and he looks away, again clearing his throat.

You spend the evening delving into Romeo and Juliet together, comparing characters to people from school - for someone who doesn’t talk to anyone, Jonathan sure knows a lot about your classmates, and you are living for it - and coming up with ways to rephrase things that make more sense to you. Most do, at least.

"But isn't it "where art thou, Romeo?"" You ask, head in your hands.

"A lot of people think that, but it's actually wherefore, which means why?" Jonathan explains.

"But why is she asking that? Is she just like, "why are you the way that you are"? Isn't she already like, in love or whatever? Why does everything have to be like a damn code?" You groan.

Jonathan nervously puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's okay, this one is a tough one to get around, since again, most people misquote it." You show Jonathan that you appreciate how patient he's being with you by leaning into his touch a little. "It's more like… Why are you the only person I've ever felt love towards, but you're also the worst person to feel love towards, because bullshit societal standards created and upheld outside of our control dictate everything about our lives and there's no way of breaking out of those standards, they just get made one day and everyone's just fine with that being the norm -"

You squeeze his arm gently. "Hey, hey. Breathe. You're fine. I get it. I don't like cliques either, I just sort of float around.

Jonathan squeezes a laugh out between his teeth. "Tsch, yeah, because people like you. And you're good at… Just, putting yourself in front of people and becoming their friend, no matter who they are."

You scrunch your nose up. "Not everyone. There's a few assholes here and there." Trying desperately to act casual, you nudge him, "You're on pretty good terms with Mr Popularity himself though, Steve Harrington. I've seen you two, at least. Would never have expected your crowds to intertwine."

Jonathan scoffs, "That statement assumes I have a crowd. No, my brother is best friends with Steve's girlfriend's brother, so…" he shrugs.

Your heart sinks. Girlfriend? But- 

If you think about it too much around Jonathan, you might reveal something you don't want him to know. Instead you clear your throat and ask, "How is your brother? After all the… You know…"

"Yeah, well, he's… You know… Well, of course you don't, but… He's got his friends, which is nice. Especially since my mom isn't letting him out of her sight again."

"I can imagine she wouldn't!" You can tell this is a sensitive topic for Jonathan so you don't press further, but he continues, "Actually, I should get going soon. I promised Will I'd pick up a record for him."

You gasp, "Are you going to Larry's?" Jonathan nods, that glint of excitement in his eye again. "I need to go there sometime, he's the only guy I know that stocks the records I listen to."

"Wh- what kinda stuff do you like?" Jonathan asks, suddenly very shy for some reason.

"Well, this is gonna sound… Super pretentious, but there's some bands from England who, like, I don't know how to explain their sound? But I like it. And Larry gets shipments from time to time. I wanted to see if he had any more stuff from this one band I've been digging, The Cure. I think they're gonna make it big here someday," you nod knowingly.

"When they do, I'll be sure to tell people that you've said that on this day," he muses, and you laugh. The shy persona returns. "I could… Take you, if you want. You could put your bike in the trunk of my car. Will does that all the time, it should fit."

This is good, you think to yourself. I can get a taste of what to get him here.

Larry, as it turns out, can't wait to see you. He states that there's a new album out in the UK this month, and he should be able to get his hands on a copy by the new year. He has a single for you to listen to in the meantime, however. You take Lovecats out of its sleeve, place it delicately onto the player, and instead of putting the headphones on, you offer them to Jonathan. His brow furrows, "How do you know you'll even like it?"

You shrug, "They've not failed me yet."

Jonathan bops his head along to the music, clearly enjoying himself. It's quite cute to watch, actually. You never thought the Jonathan Byers at school could really be considered "cute", but with his hair falling into his smiling eyes, and his head moving from side to side, there's a certain archetype of adorable that the sight of him fits into.

He shows you his favourite band, Misfits, and buys an album of theirs as well as one from a band called Descendents. You assume that's for Will.

He drops you off outside your home at the end of the evening, but makes no attempt to get out, or engage with you in any way. Just a smile and a wave. You feel a slight pang of disappointment, but you understand that he still has a fear of people changing up on him.

It doesn't deter him, however, from walking past you in the hallway, meeting your pace as he aligns with you for just long enough to make plans to meet again at the library and then quickly walk away again. You really feel proud for breaking through to him. You spend many an evening talking Shakespeare, other prose your teacher throws at you, and swapping music tastes.

There's only one thing you notice - your little locker love notes no longer appear.

It's not disappointing as such, if it is Steve writing them, you're glad you're not part of some scandal featuring the most popular guy in school. But there are just so many loose ends there that remain. Why you? Why the secrecy? Why pursue Nancy at the same time? 

You finally find a window of opportunity when you happen to pass Steve as he’s loading up his locker for the day. You stand behind him and clear your throat. He turns to look at you and his brow furrows in confusion. “Can I help you?”

“Alright, Harrington, the jig is up. I want answers,” you fold your arms and narrow your eyes.

His face only contorts further. “I don’t think I have them? I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.”

“Don’t play games with me. What, is the whole lion thing because of the - the hair?” You gesture around the top of your head, in the shape of his signature hairstyle.

“What lion thing?! You seriously have me mixed up with someone else,” he shakes his head and carries on with what he was doing.

“I’ve seen you posting your notes in my locker!” you hiss, and he halts, sinking his head down into his locker.

He stands still for a few seconds before taking a deep breath out of his mouth and slowly leaning back. “Okay. Okay. I’m with you now. I didn’t know if this day would ever come. How do I - shit, man, I’m a man of my word,” he mutters under his breath before clicking his fingers. “I got it!” He rustles around in his locker and pulls out a binder. “Okay, I was sworn to secrecy, so I’m not going to say anything, got it? Anything you might get from this conversation, I have not told you.” He holds up a science worksheet. “See this? See the name on top.” The name Steve Harrington is scrawled at the top, but in a handwriting you don’t recognise. “I’m about to turn this in. The only reason it’s all filled in is because a mutual friend of ours helps me. Here’s his.” He holds up an identical sheet, filled in with identical answers, but with no name on the top and a style of handwriting you definitely recognise.

“Can - can I take that?” you ask bashfully.

“Sure. In fact, here,” Steve takes out a whole load of study notes. “See for yourself.”

“I’m, um… I’m sorry.” you mumble your apology.

Steve looks at you softly. “You’re good. Now that I know who you are, at least,” he chuckles. “Be good to him, won’t you? Nancy likes to look out for him.”

“To who? You’ve not told me anything about anyone,” you smirk, and he taps his forehead in a salute that points to you. You stuff your new research into your book bag, catch up with Jonathan, tell him you’re busy tonight (which he understands without further questioning) and go about your day.

You cycle straight home after school, and fetch the box with your Valentine’s card and all your locker notes in. Spreading the notes out around all the worksheets, you can find instances of every letter that matches perfectly. The one friend you have in common with Steve. The one person who you’ve spoken to every day that you haven’t received a note for. You smile to yourself as you think of the perfect secret Santa gift, and rush out of the house to make sure you get to the bookstore in good time.

~~~

On the last day of the semester, Jonathan’s beaten you to the classroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to present him with his gift, especially since your friends are busy buying sprigs of mistletoe from a stall in the hallway to spring on their crushes. It’s a school tradition, albeit one you’ve never really been super into.

In homeroom, you place the gift bag down on Jonathan’s desk and grin, “Merry Christmas!”

He nods slowly. “I knew it. That’s why you wanted to hang out with me. So you could get me a gift.”

“No!” You start, but he raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, at first, maybe. But look at us now!” You grin, punching his shoulder playfully. “I’m gonna let you open that by yourself, alright?” You walk back to wait for your friends, and watch him take out the vintage copy of The Wizard of Oz. He looks embarrassed, confused, a little relieved? It’s hard to tell, he seems to convey multiple emotions at once.

Your friends approach as you’re watching him open his gift and they immediately start gossiping to you.

“Oh, now I get why you were hanging around him so much!”

“Good, I was starting to worry that you were sympathising over that freak.”

You can tell he can hear them, by the way his whole demeanour starts to shrink. You decide enough is enough. “Hey. Talk about him like that again, and I want nothing more to do with you.”

Your friends pull incredulous expressions at you. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Not yet, but with any luck…” Feeling a burst of confidence-fueled adrenaline, you stride back over to Jonathan, hold him by the front of his shirt, lift him out of his seat and press a kiss to his lips. His eyes widen in shock, then close as his face softens as he embraces it. 

When you eventually break apart, you let go of him and he falls back into his chair with a soft thud. He looks up at you with a giddy elation, positively giggling at you. “Um… I didn’t. Plan on you figuring this out, so soon at least.”

You laugh, “Yeah, well. I did kinda catch onto your decoy a while back.”

He groans, squeezing one eye shut, “I thought… You’d get freaked out if you knew I liked you. And I wasn’t sure how to get it out of my system, so…” He shrugs. “I asked Steve to put them in your locker. I don’t even think he knows who you are. Super dumb, I know.”

“Shows that the company you do manage to keep is pretty high quality. Very reflective of you,” you point out with a nod.

Jonathan laughs, a little awkwardly. “It’s certainly improved greatly in recent history.” You simper at him, and he looks up at you, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes. “I, um… So, you know I was saying that I didn’t plan on you finding out?” You nod. “I was going… To tell you, today. Um, after I… Bought some… To…” he turns bright pink.

You grin, filling in the blanks. “Did you buy your mistletoe already?” He shakes his head, eyes wide, and you lean in close to him. “Well, good job I already kissed you then, huh.” You kiss his forehead and slide off his desk. “Come sit with me at lunch?”

“Wh- Who are you gonna eat with?” he asks quietly.

“Doesn’t matter. I want you with me, screw the others. If they start shit, we’ll just leave. Deal?” He nods, presses his lips together and smiles. “See you then.”

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vi)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY 

also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls. 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Your place or mine? ;)

He stares at the text.

The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.

“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder. 

“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”

“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”

“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.

“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.” 

“It’s for the good of the tristate area.” 

“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”

“Enemy.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”

“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”

He hates living here. 

The door is left open for him. 

This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof. 

There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.

As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.

‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.

He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.” 

He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”

Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The  best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them. 

“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering. 

“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”

“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list. 

“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”

“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something. 

“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.” 

“So build a better one.” 

“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”

“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.

“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”

“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks. 

“The whole thing.”

He laughs. He stops when you don’t.

“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”

“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”

He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.

“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.

“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”

“You’ll die too,” he points out. 

“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better. 

He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly. 

“You’ll die an idiot.” 

“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”

You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly. 

He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you. 

Something feels off.

“You just-”

The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.

“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”

He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while? 

“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”

After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.

His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.

“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”

He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to. 

Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106. 

“Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.” 

He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky. 

He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.

“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”  

You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.

He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.  

He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan. 

He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed? 

He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm. 

“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.

He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again. 

One more shot and-

“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles. 

He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off. 

The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether. 

“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented. 

“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”

“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.

“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him. 

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter. 

“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”

“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”

You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”

It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.

“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however. 

“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”

“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”

But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.

Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?

His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.

He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later. 

“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.” 

“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute. 

True to your word, his powers do return a while later. 

And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text. 

It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him. 

Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.

Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him. 

He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show. 

Next part