#also sorry if this reads off like I’m trying to argue I promise I’m chilling

[cookieshapedrat]

Hi! Hope you don’t mind me using this post as a way to reflect on this discourse. I’m very intrigued by it, but don’t have anyone in my friend circle to bounce ideas off of about this. So here I am with a mini essay, allowing the fictional spirit of Midoriya to take over me. Apologies in advance for this. I don’t think this discourse is a double standard and here’s why:

I think people are upset about the decision going against Midoriya’s established goal, which was becoming a Hero. As the narrator he constantly says, “This is the story of how I became the greatest Hero.” Since being a Hero is a literal career path, lots of people, myself included, assumed he was gonna stick to the career until the very end. Guessing the mentality is, if he’s not gonna be a Hero in the end like he desperately wanted to be at the start of his journey then what was the point of everything he went through? I think there’s also a one off line Midoriya says in the first episode, where he says something along the lines of U.A. now allowing quirkless people to try out for the Hero course. He says this to Bakugou when the teacher reveals to the class that Midoriya wanted to try out for U.A. If that’s the case then Midoriya should be capable of continuing on his dream of being a Hero, right? There was a chance for Mr. Horikoshi to take that one off line and do something with it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if nobody really remembers Midoriya saying that.

In regard to All Might and Mirio, my guess is that people are less inclined to be upset with them because they’re not the main character. We don’t spend as much time watching them struggle to achieve their goals like we do for Midoriya.

All Might, although we’ve gotten to know him from the beginning, had already been nearing his retirement as a Hero. He revealed his wound to Midoriya on the rooftop saying how it had caused his time to use OFA to decrease to 3hrs (if I’m remembering correctly). Then later on after the fight in the USJ, his time had been cut down again to an hour. Until finally his fight against AFO where he couldn’t use his quirk anymore. All this to say, his quirk had been weakening throughout that whole time, so we as the viewer were already expecting him to eventually retire and leave the Hero scene altogether.

Mirio, I don’t know too much about admittedly. I’m currently anime only, having been rewatching it for the past three months and still haven’t finished watching Season 6. So feel free to take this next reflective point with a grain of salt. That being said, I think with him it’s just that we don’t spend enough time with him to care too much about whether or not he continues to be a Hero. Although I guess it could also be tied to Midoriya and his question of whether or not you can be a Hero without a quirk? Because unlike Midoriya, Mirio was born with his quirk. It would make a lot of sense for Mirio to believe that he can’t be a Hero anymore without it. He’s not used to being quirkless so he doesn’t know what to do with himself in a Hero’s setting. (As in to mean, he obviously knows the essentials and has a lot of experience in battling as he was a part of the Big 3, he just thinks it’d be way too dangerous for him because he had grown so dependent on his quirk that maybe he’d forget he doesn’t have it anymore mid battle or something. An incident like that could lead to a lot of potentially horrific situations.) Meanwhile Midoriya was born quirkless yet still managed to get into the Hero course thanks to All Might. Even before meeting All Might and getting accepted into U.A., Midoriya had been acting like a Hero despite not having a quirk, like when he ran in to the river to make sure Bakugou, who had fallen into it, was okay, and when he went to save Bakugou from the sludge Villain. He was reprimanded for doing that last one, but All Might himself said that he was more of a Hero in that instance than anyone else there. It’s the reason why All Might wanted Midoriya to become his successor instead of Mirio. (That actually might be a whole other reason why people are upset with the ending, but I don’t want to make this post too long.)

As for the costs that you mention, I was thinking since Bakugou had been putting so much effort into creating the mech suit for Midoriya, potentially he could’ve helped him financially until Midoriya could afford it on his own. After all Bakugou really wanted to become a Hero with him, from the manga screenshots I’ve seen in my feed. If he was so dedicated as to spend a lot of money and time creating a Hero suit for his friend, then assuming he would be willing to help him out financially wouldn’t be too big of a stretch I think.

I don’t know anything about My Vigilante Academia, so I don’t have any opinions on that and its correlations to My Hero. Sorry about that.

I type all of this, but honestly my feelings on the ending are neutral. A little leaning towards not understanding why Midoriya wouldn’t accept Bakugou’s offer to become a Hero again (I’m just used to seeing him be very eager to accept those kinds of offers), but if the man would prefer to be a teacher then I say why not, let the man do as he sees fit. Mr. Horikoshi knows his OCs better than I will after all, so if he decides that he wants Midoriya to be a teacher instead of a Hero, then I respect that choice. Even if I personally didn’t agree with the decision, there’s always fanon to turn to, right? No harm in imagining the what ifs!

Can somebody please explain to me why people dog pilled on Deku for giving up on being a hero after loosing OFA even though it was explicitly established within the series that you can't be a hero without one (or high amounts of money that Deku doesn't have) (yes I know Vig exists but it's not the main series' fault if a spin-off breaks the rules that main series set up causing plot holes. If anything that's the spin-offs fault) when Mirio and All Might did the EXACT SAME THING when they lost their quirks and no one shat on them for that???

Like??? Mirio and All Might also stopped being heroes when they lost their quirks, yet NOBODY got mad at them for that, but when Deku does the same thing for the same reason, people shit on him for it???

This is literally such a blatant double standard lmao.

[frankoceanluvrr]

𝐈𝐃𝐅𝐂 — 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : peter parker x fem!reader. angst!

summary : Peter and [Name] are in a relationship. [Name] is trying her hardest to be a “relaxed” and “chill” girlfriend. She bottles up her feelings which result in a heated conversation.

warnings : based off of the song “Idfc” by blackbear. I do NOT own the song, nor the character spiderman. arguing, swearing, topics of cheating are included in this! also english isn’t my first language, so please correct me if need be (eg spelling and grammatical errors). this is kinda long as well

a/n : WE HIT 30 FOLLOWERSSS!!!!!! TYSM !!!! Also the gif has nothing to do with the story lol I just like it

He missed it. Maybe he’s busy? He’s always busy. He promised he’d come though, surely that means something? It was your one year anniversary of becoming a couple, and you both decided to go to the same restaurant where he first confessed to you. You sat there, like a fool, all dressed up for nothing. You had been there about three hours and it had just hit midnight. Practically everyone in the restaurant had given you the same pitiful look as they both entered and eventually left. You took a deep breath and apologised to the staff for being there so long. Embarrassed, you began to walk back home.

Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. You fell into your bed, hopelessly scrolling on your phone as if it could distract you from the humiliation. He hadn’t even sent a text. Your night was about to become worse when you heard a desperate knock on your window. It was Peter. You could only roll your eyes as he looked at you, cheeks flushed. He had the distinct smell of alcohol as he got a bit closer to you, almost attempting to read your emotions.

“[Name]—”

“Do you love me?” You cut him off, tears already starting to prick your eyes.

“What? Of course I do.” He defended himself.

“Tell me that you love me.”

“It’s not fake, [Name]. I do love you.” He muttered, maintaining eye contact as if he was trying to look sober.

“You’ve been out all night.” You sighed, “do you have any idea about what you missed?”

“I was out because of ‘spiderman-ly’ duties.” He slurred, obviously lying.

“You smell of alcohol Peter. I’m not dumb, you come in here, slurring all your words, you’re not making any sense,” You started, “but you know what, I don’t fucking care like always. That’s how you want me to be like, right?”

“I have so many feelings for you, [Name],” He sighed, “it’s not intentional baby, I’m practically a fool for you.”

“You’re the fool?” You scoffed, “you were three hours late doing God knows what. It was humiliating, and you know what I haven’t heard? A fucking apology.”

“I love you, you’re too good for me. I’m so sorry baby for missing our,” he paused, then quickly added, “dinner?”

You could only stare at him in disbelief, and yet the more you stared the more evidence you discovered. The subtle lipstick stains on his neck, how his hair was all messy, how his shirt was messily thrown on.

You felt a lump in your throat, “you’re cheating on me?”

His eyes widened slightly, gaze softening, “What?”

“You’re cheating on me.” You said, more confirming it to yourself than him.

“It was only twice, [Name]. And if anything it only made me love you more.”

“Twice?” You were in genuine disbelief about the audacity of this man, “Get out, now.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” His gaze hardened.

“Leave.”

“Fine, fuck you [Name].”

He left, slamming the door. He was so obviously drunk, and wasn’t thinking right, but his words pierced your heart like a knife.

[milliedazzledust]

I'll Come Back for You (Bucky Barnes imagine)

REQUEST: ANON - something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission

ANON - winter soldier!bucky being protective over his scientist who’s forced to be take care of his health and she’s being kept there against his will too

ANON - Bucky Barnes request about how both reader and Bucky are each other support systems? It could be like a headcanon, how would the reader comfort him while how he comforts her so forth and so on

WORDS: 3506

A/N: So I don't know if I was inspired or if I just wrote too much, but I'm not sure this story's good. Anyway, feedback is really appreciated and I hope you'll like it :) (also don't forget to tell me if you want to be on my taglist ^^)

“What happened this time ?”

Her voice was only a whisper in the quiet room. The broken man silently sat on the examination table while she stuck a needle in his functioning arm. He didn’t speak, didn’t even flinch. This masquerade had started the moment she had set foot inside Hydra secret base. They had brought her against her will to take care of their most valuable soldier. It was always the same dance, rehearsed a million times since she had met him. After each mission, each murder, he’d come to her. She’d fix his physical wounds, take care of his arm and let him go.

More than often, she found herself feeling sorry for him. She knew what Hydra was doing to him, she’d heard the screams echoing in the distance. It would keep ringing in her ears for hours. Sometimes, the simple thought of picturing what he was going through was enough to bring her to tears. No one deserved to suffer this way.

The Winter Soldier was a cruel man, an assassin. She had seen him in action, had even been attacked the first time they were introduced. But despite being the necessary tool to take care of their valuable killer, she liked him. This wasn’t a place anyone could handle, not even him. And while she was aware of the danger Hydra represented, he was a different story. The man he once was had been trapped in a small corner of his mind, disconnected. His hands were his own, but his actions were dictated by an army that had invaded his head long ago. He was a machine turned on and off at will by the power of ten simple words.

“I was stabbed” Was his only answer. He didn’t give any detail, simply raised his shirt so she could inspect the injury.

“Do you feel any pain ?”

He blankly stared at an invisible point on the wall, avoiding looking at her. He was aware anyone could be listening.

“Soldier ?” She called him, stopping her movement and waiting for his response.

“I don’t feel anything” His voice was emotionless and a chill ran down her spine when he spoke. He was detached, impassive, a statue unaware he was capable of sentiment.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay focused on her task. She cleaned the wound, took his vitals, wrote down the conclusion of her examination and prepared what she needed to sew him up.

When she was about to administer the anesthetic, he suddenly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath, frightened, but made no movement. For the first time that day, he turned his head to look at her. Whatever she saw in his eyes was enough to ease the tension in her shoulders and she relaxed.

“It’s okay” She whispered, a kind smile on her face. “This is propofol”

She knew he would recognize the name. She had spent countless hours explaining everything she was doing to him in detail so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable or scared. He was a super soldier that required extreme measures of treatment.

“No drugs,” He told her.

“You might regret that decision once I start to put the stitches in”

“I need to stay conscious,” He explicated, almost begging her. “Please”

She didn’t argue, only glanced at a camera behind her recording their interaction.

“Alright” She conceded. “I’ll switch to saline”

He nodded, grateful she wasn’t pushing. She turned her back carefully so her table was no longer in the camera’s field of view and he watched her emptying the needle and filling it with a harmless mixture of water and sodium chloride. Nothing that would put him to sleep.

“Have you ever been to Greece ?” She asked him out of the blue. He stared at her curiously. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting. It has the longest coastline in Europe, with so many islands between the blue Aegean Sea to the east, the Mediterranean Sea to the south, and the Ionian Sea to the west. Can you imagine how beautiful it must be ?”

She kept talking for a while about the country, the books she had read and the films she had seen about it. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, his head tilted to the side, wondering why she was telling him all this. Not that he minded, he loved listening to her. She had the power to calm him down. He was constantly on high alert, ready to fight whomever he was told to kill, prepared to endure whatever torture they had prepared, but this room and the woman inside were his only small moments of peace. Her voice was the music he desperately needed to sooth his soul.

“Why are you telling me this ?” He wondered out loud.

She smirked. “To take your mind somewhere else than here. Seems like it worked”

He glanced at his stomach and realized the stitches were already there. Too engrossed in her story, he hadn’t noticed or felt anything.

“How…”

“Funny how magical words can turn out to be, isn’t it ?”

She could swear she saw the flicker of an emotion on his face looking back between his wound and the woman, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Thank you, doc”

She hesitated a moment before gently taking his hand on her own.

“Be careful” She muttered. “There’s only so much I can fix”

“I will” He promised. “Are they … are they treating you right ?”

She shrugged. “If threatening to kill me is what you consider right, then I guess I’m a real princess in a castle”

He ran a jerky hand through his hair and seemed to be looking for the right words to say but never spoke.

“Can I ask …” She began, curiosity getting the best out of her. “What is your real name ?”

When his gaze fell on her, all she saw was pure panic. Her question, as simple as it may have been, had surprised him. He didn’t remember, didn’t even question anyone, because it hadn’t mattered. He didn’t need to be more than a ghost to be able to kill.

“I’m sorry” She apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t know” He admitted.

She gulped and looked away. His eyes held too much confusion and despair. Coming face to face with the enormity that was this man’s fate was sometimes undeniably heartbreaking.

“Can I call you Winter, then ?” She suggested.

He seemed to ponder for a while before offering her a small smile. “Yes, yes I’d like that”

It hurt to see a glimpse of happiness on his face for something as simple as a name and the woman didn’t realize that what she had just given him was the shred of an identity. A tiny piece he would hold onto. He was living inside a nightmare he had no idea he was trapped into, and if she dared to help, she would pay it with her life. So all she had the power to do was give him a name. Make him feel alive again.

The next time she saw him was only a couple of days after, carried by two agents, head hanging low and barely conscious. His clothes were stained in blood and his metal arm seemed dislocated.

“Patch him up” One of the men coldly ordered. They dropped the injured soldier on the ground like he was nothing more than an object, not even human.

She rushed to his side, checking his pupils first with a flashlight to rule out any intracranial damage to his brain. She did the same on his chest with a stethoscope, searching for any potential life threatening injury. When she moved to his shoulder to inspect the metal bones, he regained consciousness. Maybe it was the sight of yet another scientist above him or the touch of her fingers on his skin, but the man was quick to react and got on his feet in no time. His human hand wrapped around her neck tightly and he pushed her body with force against a wall, choking her. She tried to speak, but the action had been so sudden and violent that she was unable to move a muscle. He was in a trance, eyes filled with hatred that she knew was not directed toward her. Whatever he was picturing in his mind had awakened the assassin. She was the threat and he was in a game of survival.

She whispered his name several times but it was only after a minute, when she was on the verge of passing out, that he seemed to realize what he was doing. He stared at her with wide open eyes and released her from his grip. Her body fell on the floor before she started coughing, struggling to catch her breath.

“I’m…” He tried to speak, looking down at his hands in horror.

“Water” She managed to whisper.

He brought the woman a bottle and tried to help her on her feet. When he reached for her, she involuntarily flinched. A pure reflex. She didn’t miss the sadness on his face as he recoiled from her.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. It’s alright”

“I could’ve killed you” He said it more to himself than to her.

“But you didn’t” She laid a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath to try and calm her heart rate. “What happened ?”

“You touched me,” He explained.

“I touch you all the time” When he smirked, she realized the double meaning behind what she had just said. “Hm … why would it be any different today ?” She immediately changed the subject.

“Usually, when I’m unconscious I can … sense them around me. Working on me. And I can’t move but I still feel the pain”

Once again she was at a loss of words against the heaviness that was the burden of his life.

“Are you sure you’re alright ?” He repeated almost in a childish voice.

“I’ll get over it, don’t worry” She tried to reassure him. It didn’t seem to work. He took a temptative step, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. He moved his hand toward her neck, deliberately going as slow as he could. His eyes stayed on hers, watching out for any sign of fear. “What are you doing ?” She said in a breath, a different kind of shiver rolling down her spine.

“I need to make sure I didn’t hurt you” The sincerity and concern she heard in his voice were unsettling. She stared back in disbelief, but didn’t move. This was the closest they had ever been and it almost felt unreal for both of them. Too good to be true, especially in a place of nightmare like this.

He tilted her head to the back, still looking at her, and softly brushed his thumb over her skin. A bruise was already starting to appear. She saw the change in his eyes, the regret and sadness when he lowered his gaze. He kept inspecting her from all angles possible, making her chuckle in the process.

“Are you done, doctor ?” She joked.

He tried not to smile but miserably failed. “Almost. Haven’t found a diagnosis yet”

This time she laughed.

“C’mon, I’m not the real patient here. I need to take a look at you” She glanced at his metal arm, still dislocated. He was avoiding using it and she had noticed.

He sighed but didn’t remove his hand from her neck. Instead, his thumb slowly reached her cheek and he gently stroked her skin.

“I wish I could get you out of here” He whispered. “You don’t deserve any of this”

“Neither do you”

He clenched his jaw and plastered a tight smile, refusing to acknowledge what she had just said. He lowered his arm and sat on the examination table without saying anything.

“I’m gonna … hm … I’m gonna need to cut your shirt open” She gulped, trying to keep her cheeks from getting any warmer.

The man smirked and grabbed a pair of scissors nearby that he handed to her. She took it but didn’t dare to look at him, too uncomfortable by the situation. As she cut his shirt higher and higher, her hands started to shake. He could see her shifting her weight from side to side and desperately avoiding any eye contact. She was embarrassed and he was enjoying every second of it.

When finally she had taken it carefully off his body, she huffed in frustration. There was no denying that he had beyond toned muscle structure, verged into defined and well built curves.

“Is it… is it alright if I touch you ?” She allowed herself to take a glance at him, and rolled her eyes when she saw the smirk on his face.

“More than alright, doc” He teased her.

The moment her hands came in contact with his skin, he involuntarily flexed his muscles. She took a sharp breath, trying not to lose focus when she cleaned his wounds. She looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t in any pain, only to realize he was already staring. What should have been a quick glance turned into something more, a moment that lasted a little too long. When he leaned in toward her, she suddenly seemed to notice the lack of space between them. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“Quit flirting, Winter” She reprimanded him with a playful grin.

He laughed. It was the first time she heard that sound and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth. He looked so carefree and alive, so human. She was finally meeting the man behind the assassin, and he troubled her even more than the silent killer.

“I kinda like to see you flustered, doc”

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide her obvious nervousness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

“Sure you don’t” He sniggered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna need to put that shoulder into place”

Instead of talking, he grabbed her hips and considerably shortened the distance she had put between them. Her eyes widened from both the sudden gesture and the feeling of his fingers on her body.

“Go right ahead, doc”

She leaned in toward him to have a better access to the injury, ignoring the unexpected shudder. She was practically over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his broad back. If he felt any pain when she pushed the bones back into place, he didn’t show.

“All good ?” He muttered, heavily breathing. She was about to ask if he was okay but the words stayed stuck when she realized how close their faces were. He wasn’t hurt, no, he was perturbed by her presence. He could smell her perfume and see the hair raising on her neck. Whatever he was feeling, she felt it too.

“Do I make you nervous, soldier ?” She said, a smile building on her full lips.

“You have no idea, doctor”

She turned to face him. They locked eyes and, for a moment, none of them moved. The atmosphere instantly changed when he bit his lips. He bent closer and closer, and this time she didn’t push back. When finally he kissed her, she froze in place. He was about to draw back when she grabbed his neck, deepening the kiss. A sensation she couldn’t comprehend took over her whole body. He didn’t rush, took his sweet time lingering his lips over hers. She could swore her knees would have given out if he wasn’t holding her in place. Her chest was fluttering and she lost all sense of time. He pulled back from the lack of oxygen, but not before caressing her mouth one last time.

“Too much?” He inquired quietly.

She shook her head, laughing. “No. Just enough”

“I’ve been dreaming of doing that for a while” He admitted.

“Quite the change of attitude. I could’ve sworn you wanted me dead only ten minutes ago” She joked.

He pouted, not particularly happy she was reminding him of his previous outburst.

“You’re all set up, Winter” She announced after one last look over his chest. “No major damage”

“Have you checked my heart ?” He joked with a smirk. “I think it’s beating a little fast”

She coughed to try and hide her laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not fixable” She started to write her report, ignoring his lingering gaze on her. Her brain was still fuzzy from the kiss they shared. “Unless I stay away, which would probably ease your … discomfort”

“Who said anything about discomfort ? That’s a kind of pain I’d rather enjoy”

She raised an eyebrow, not missing the way her own heart palpitated.

“Don’t play with fire, soldier”

He smirked. “Between us, I’m trying to delay the moment I’ll have to go through that door again”

This time she lost all joy and raised her head from what she was writing on her report to look at him.

“You’re strong enough to leave this place, you know”

“Leave where ?” He asked.

“Somewhere you’ll find who you really are”

“Does that somewhere include you ? ‘Cause you should know I won’t go without you”

She walked up to him and took his hands.

“Save yourself while you still can, Winter” She sadly replied.

“What about you ?”

“I’m just … collateral damage” She exhaled.

He gently pressed his forehead to hers.

“I promise I’ll come back for you after that last mission”

“I’ll hold you onto that”

He planted a soft kiss on her lips, making her forget once again where they were and what their reality was.

“I’ll take you to Greece” He whispered. “Just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be great ?”

“It’s a date” She grinned, making him laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. We’ll get out of here” He swore. “And I’ll take you dancing under the stars of Mykonos”

He didn’t know then that he would never have the occasion to keep that promise. They would have more moments, stolen from the chaos of this place, but nothing more. Weeks later, he would hear rumors about treason and compromising positions. He would understand too late they meant her. She was his weak point, and the Winter Soldier couldn’t have any weaknesses. She was disposable, he was an assassin with superpowers. All the recordings they had proved he no longer could be operational so long as she was still breathing.

“Buck, you alright ?” A voice suddenly spoke in the agonizing silence.

He turned around to his friend, brushing the tears he didn’t realize had started to fall. Standing in the empty room, he couldn’t move away from the dried patch of blood on the floor.

“Yeah, I just need a minute” He shook his head, trying to make the painful memories disappear.

The man behind him began to inspect the place, searching through scattered papers around a desk.

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N” He read.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. The simple sound of her name was enough to widen the open wound inside his chest. He sat on the examination table one last time, without her. Forgetting he wasn’t alone, he let himself wander into his most precious memories. He remembered the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume and the touch of her skin. Every detail engraved in his head forever.

“Did you know her ?” The person asked.

“Yeah”

The man stopped what he was doing and observed the former assassin for a solid minute. He looked heartbroken.

“Bad memories ?” He inquired.

“Not in this room” Bucky sadly smiled.

“What happened ?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve”

The Captain hesitated for a moment but didn’t push. He was aware his friend was still healing and whatever the place was, it was part of his pain.

“Is she dead ?” He only questioned.

He gulped and tilted his head backward to keep the tears at bay. “They took her away from me” His voice cracked when he spoke. He was not able to stop the violent sob that escaped his mouth. He wanted to say so much more but the lump in his throat was far too heavy.

“I was too late,” He whispered. “I promised I’d come back for her but I was … too …”

His shoulders started to shake as tears ran down his bloodshot eyes. Steve rapidly closed the distance between them and hugged his friend, letting him express his sadness. They stayed there until he was calm enough to take a deep breath.

“You ready ?” The Captain inquired.

The broken soldier silently nodded.

“Where to now ?” Steve asked him. “You’re free to go anywhere you'd like”

“Greece. I have a date in Greece”

Taglist below the cut

@partypoisonsblog - @tylard-blog1

[hyunjilicious]

a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 3

A/n: I know it took me ages, and I'm sorry, but it's finally here!! I don't know when part 4 will be up, but I know the plot, and by the time you finish reading this, you'll know it too!! Filth is coming. Also, since I posted the first 2 parts weeks ago, under the cut you'll find a small summary of what happened so far! Ofc, I'm linking the previous parts as well! Have fun reading, sorry for taking me so long, and please, don't hesitate to tell me what you thought! (I’ll reblog it with the taglist, otherwise it doesn’t show up in the tags!)

Summary: after Henry lost it during a fit of jealousy, he sneaked into your apartment, his actions having some very different repercussions from what he initially intended. SMUT 3.9k

Warnings: please be over 18!!! mentions of smut, masturbation (male receiving), sightly/some somnophilia, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry, cum play if you squint and ofc, mentions of filming and sharing pornographic material. 18+ please!!!!

You can find part 1 here and part 2 here!

Quick recap: Henry's crush on his very sweet and younger neighbour (you lol) grew into something else when you asked him for help with taking some pictures for your onlyfans account. Following this, your relationship reached a very teasing level, which prompted Henry to take matters into his own hands, even if that meant crossing some lines. So when he found out that you and a specific man from your past were on a voice call, he just had to know what exactly was being discussed. This jealousy fit had him using his spare key to enter your apartment and eavesdrop, and this is where chapter 2 ends. Have fun reading the next part!!!

“No” you sighed, waving your arms around, desperate to get your point across. But it was mostly useless, nothing even remotely decent would ever manage to penetrate Steve’s thick skull. He was a dumbass with a heart of gold, so you couldn’t even blame him for messing things up on purpose, you just learned the hard way not to take his advice under any circumstance. “No, Steve. I won’t do that. Not a chance!”

“Hun-” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as a smirk showed up on his lips, “When have I ever been wrong?”

“Really!?” you giggled and then sighed, “Listen, I gotta go to the bathroom and you’d better forget about this topic by the time I come back”

“Wait, wait. Ok, fine. Scratch that” Steve laughed, stopping you from getting up, “When have I ever been wrong on purpose?”

“Listen, I know you’re just trying to help” you smiled, “But I don’t think your experience in seducing girls with daddy issues benefits my situation in any kind of way”

“‘Course it does! I can give you some perspective!”

“Perspective on what?” you mocked, playfully frowning at him through the screen on your laptop, “You and Henry have nothing in common”

“The dick for one” Steve joked but when he saw you roll your eyes, he became serious, “I’m just tryin to help you hook up with the guy! That’s all”

“See!?” you laughed, already exasperated by the conversation, “I’m not trying to hook up with him, I want something more…”

Your sentence was cut short by the sound of a door closing. Your blood ran cold and your hands froze, eyes staring blankly into the camera.

“Y/n?” Steve asked with worry, “What’s wrong?”

“Wait here” you mumbled, pushing the laptop off of you and rushing to the door of your bedroom. You pressed your ear against it, and listened closely, the sound of a lock being turned chilling you to your bones. With shaky hands, you stumbled your way back to your bed, and looked into the camera, directly at a somewhat already worried Steve. “I gotta go-”

“Wait-” Steve tried to ask, “Are you-”

“Yeah, I’m fine, talk to you later” you hurriedly mumbled before ending the call. Your fingers flew across the screen of your phone, finding Henry’s name and pressing the green button in the blink of an eye.

And had he not been this utterly stupid and reckless, none of this would have happened. His impulsivity got the best of him, and panic rushed through his veins when he heard you were about to head to the bathroom. Pressure did him no good, and the first thing that came to mind at that point was to bolt out of there, knowing there was absolutely no way to explain what he was doing in your apartment. But his shaky hands were of no help, and the dexterity he earlier proved himself capable of was nowhere to be found. However, he didn’t care. He just stormed out, happy to finally breathe again as soon as he was out of your apartment - but when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he felt like dying all over again.

With your heart beating inside your throat, you grabbed your bedside lamp into your free hand, and curled yourself into a ball in the corner of your room, opposite to the door, the sound of the ongoing call being the only thing you heard over the loud buzz in your ears.

“Yeah?” Henry’s voice rang loudly when he finally answered, making you all but jump with fright.

Had you paid more attention, you’d have noticed he too sounded out of breath, but you were too out of it to tell. All you could think about was the psycho what was at your door.

“Henry-” you cried, voice shaky as the intake of air was no longer satisfying. You were hyperventilating, sweating from every pore, scared out of your mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice more stern now. “Y/n? Are you ok?”

“Yeah- yeah…” you said on autopilot, mind on standby. “No…” You whimpered, “Henry, can you- I think someone is trying to break into my house, I-”

“What!?” he gasped, “I’m sure no one-”

“Henry!” you cried into the phone, “Can you please look through your peephole? Please?”

He sounded confused, but you didn’t have to ask him twice. You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice reached your ears again, “There’s no one there, there’s no one at your door, you can relax”

“No-” you whimpered, unable to calm down, “Henry, please-!”

“I’m coming over right now,” he said.

“No! No, what if they’re still in the hallway?”

“There’s no one there, love” Henry tried to reassure you. When you heard him unlock the door of his apartment your heart stopped, but after that, everything was quiet. 

“Are you ok?” you muttered, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Yes, love. I’m fine” Henry lightly chuckled, “I’m at your door, can you open up?”

“No” you scoffed, “What if someone got in?”

“No one got in” he tried to explain, but your adrenaline soaked brain refused to comply.

“Henry, take the spare key I gave you” you suggested, “And grab a knife”

Seeing how affected and terrified you were, Henry didn’t argue with you anymore. In a matter of seconds, you heard the door of your apartment being unlocked, Henry assuring you through the phone that it was him. When he walked inside, you remained hidden in your spot. He checked the kitchen and the living room, coming up to finally enter the bedroom. When your eyes landed on his massive frame, you breathed out relieved and rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. There was no other place on Earth you felt as safe as you did when he was holding you.

“Shh, you’re ok, you’re good” Henry cooed, cradling you to his chest, “I got you, baby, ok? I’m here”

But there was no stopping you. You broke down entirely, holding onto him as your legs gave in, turning into a mess. Henry carried you to the bed, sitting you down and allowing you to calm down at your own pace.

“I’m here, ok?” he asked again, rubbing your back, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/n, you know that. You’re safe, I got you”

It was impossible to tell just how long it took you to fully calm down, but it was safe to say that it would have taken hours longer had Henry not been there with you. When you were finally able to properly breathe again and hold a conversation, you looked up at him, big doe eyes hoping to convince him without too much of a fuss. “Can you stay here with me, please? I can’t be alone right now”

With nothing but sympathy in his eyes, Henry leaned down and kissed your forehead, “Don’t you think it would be better if we went over to my place instead?”

“No” you shook your head, “And leave the apartment unattended? I don’t think that’s a good idea”

His heart broke. Being his usual, impulsive self, Henry managed to break you down and terrify you to your core. As much as he wanted to reassure you everything would be fine, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just tell you it was him who broke into your apartment in the middle of a jealousy breakdown. So, he settled for the second best option, and really, he couldn’t complain.

It was late in the afternoon on a Sunday, no locksmith on the clock. Seeing how you’d have to wait until the next morning, he was more than happy to spend that time with you.

As time started to pass, you also started to relax. 

The day slowly wilted a way, as both you and Henry made yourselves busy around your apartment. He wasted a couple of hours installing games on your school laptop as you took a bath, he then cooked you dinner, and by the time the night rolled around, you were your usual bubbly self again. And after watching and laughing your hearts out at Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets, sleep started to creep up on you.

Henry placed one of your kitchen chairs under the doorknob before turning to give you a massive hug, “No one can get in, darling. I promise”

“Thank god you live across the hall” you confessed, snaking your arms under his hoodie as you gathered yourself as close to him as possible. “What would I have done otherwise?”

“You don’t have to worry about that” Henry kissed your forehead, “I’ll always be here when you need me”

And in that moment, right there, stopping yourself from kissing him turned out to be the most difficult thing you ever had to do. Instead, you settled for his cheek, before hiding your face against his shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you too”

“Thank you, angel” Henry breathed out.

There really was nothing on this earth you loved more than this man. 

Getting ready to go to sleep, you changed in your pajamas, while all Henry did was take off his hoodie. With your toothbrush lodged between your teeth, you lingered in the door frame, watching the muscles of his back flex as he bent down and put his phone down to charge.

Toothpaste and drool could very well have dribbled down your chin as you stood and gawked, only releasing you were staring when Henry turned around and a smile made its way up his lips. “Yes?” he laughed, but all you did was look him up and down, before returning to the bathroom with a shake of your head.

“Oh, Y/n?” Henry called again, following you, “Where can I find a blanket or some sheets?”

First you squinted, but then you decided it would be best if you just finished brushing your teeth before anything else. After rinsing your mouth, you turned to look at him, utterly unamused. “What for?”

“So I don’t have to sleep on leather?”

“You’re sleeping with me” you rolled your eyes, grabbing his elbow and dragging him into the bathroom so he could get ready for bed too. “Not up for discussion”

“Ok” Henry chuckled, looking at you in the mirror. “But I snore”

As if that would make you reconsider. You walked away and into your room, settling under the covers, without another word. About 10 minutes later, Henry joined you.

He fit in like a piece of puzzle and you didn’t even try to keep yourself from cuddling into his side. Sinking his head down between the multitude of pillows on your bed, you giggled, crawling on top of him. Without thinking too much about it, you kissed your way down his neck, peppering tens of kisses against his naked chest. You felt his heartbeat under your palm as he breathed in and out slowly, smiling down at you as he enjoyed the view.

“Thanks for doing this for me” you mumbled, rubbing your hand up and down his chiseled abdomen.

“Really, Y/n” Henry said, wrapping his arms around you, “There’s no need to thank me. Plus, you think I’m not enjoying this?”

“Oh shut up” you giggled. The amount of small talk that followed turned out to be exactly what you needed in order to allow your eyes to peacefully close. Despite the events of earlier in the evening, you now felt safer than ever before.

It was just a matter of time until soft snores started escaping past your lips, your chest rising and falling every so softly as you drifted out of consciousness.

But Henry’s mind was nowhere near relaxed enough to drift off. No. You were too close to him, too innocent and vulnerable for him to just let this moment pass. The way you had just thrown one of your legs over his lap drove him insane - your bare thigh too accessible to him.

At first, he just tested the waters. A peck to the top of your head, and a small caress against the back of your hand. You were completely out, and that accentuated his need further.

Slowly moving his free arm down his body, Henry brushed his fingers over his clothed member, grunting out loud when he felt the sensibility in his tip. He bit into his bottom lip out of need to keep quiet, teasing himself just a little as he struggled to decide how to go about things. With the way you were laying right now, it was next to impossible for him to free himself without moving you. And even though at the beginning he tried to avoid that, when you stirred in your sleep, your body rubbing up against his, he lost all kinds of patience.

As softly as he could, Henry pushed your leg back, just a little. Even in your sleep, you craved his touch, as when you felt movement, you involuntarily shuffled closer, but much to his relief, your legs remained on the mattress.

Eagerness controlled his actions as he pushed his pants down his thighs, propping his hips up with difficulty. When his underwear was pulled down and his cock sprung free, Henry hissed with unmatched satisfaction. With his hand wrapped around his base and his eyes on you, he swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest with a demented sense of bliss.

"My baby-" Henry cooed, rubbing his lips across your hairline as he started stroking his cock.

His movements were slow but not calculated in any way. His brain was occupied, forcing his hand to work on muscle memory. But still, he teased himself, rubbing his thumb across his slit just like he liked to think you would. 

The fear of getting caught was at an all time high as you stirred again. He froze for a second, "That's my good girl-" Henry whispered, looking down at your sleeping frame. As much as he wanted you to take an active part in this, he knew better than to risk it. 

It was getting more and more difficult to breathe, his back sweating profusely as he pumped himself closer to the edge. His hips bucked, causing the bed frame to creak. Instantly, he stilled, eyes on you, but all you did was rub your cheek against his chest, completely unaware of your surroundings.

"I'm so close for you, my darling" Henry groaned, his throat paper dry as the words left his lips. All he could hear was his own breathing and the unmistakable perverse sound of slapping skin, but still, even above all of that, you kept on peacefully snoring. 

The arm Henry looped around your frame was now traveling lower, his palm exploring your side until he reached your ass. He softly gripped a handful of your bum, squeezing hard enough to make up for the struggle of not allowing himself to finish too early. But it was reckless and maybe he shouldn't have done so, as his touch all but woke you up. 

Still overwhelmed with sleep, you barely pushed yourself up, eyes closed as you slightly changed your position. You were now laying higher up his body, your head almost falling off his shoulder. Your breathing tickled the side of his neck as you snaked your arm up and looped it around his frame. Biting down hard on his bottom hip, Henry felt ridiculous amounts of blood rush to the tip of his cock as you refused to settle already.

Rubbing the tip of your nose across his jugular, still mostly out but not fully, you peaked your eyes open, “Henry-?”

“Y- yeah?” he swallowed thickly, freezing in his spot.

“Why’re you awake?” you mumbled.

“Just woke up- had a weird dream, that’s all”

You believed the lie without an ounce of doubt, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Yes” he whispered, “But in the morning. Sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep, darling”

“Ok” you sighed, kissed his bare shoulder and allowed yourself to drift off again.

Henry licked his lips in a haze, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as sweat worked his entire body. God, how he regretted getting himself in his position, but his cock was full on hard, all but leaking at the tip, not so patiently waiting to receive any kind of attention again. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes on you to make sure you were asleep. 

His heart skipped a beat as your mouth popped open, but your light snores came as the strongest form of reassurance, and he resumed his work. The anxiety of getting caught fueled him, and the heels of his feet dug into the mattress, his hips bucking upwards as he furiously pumped his cock.

It was all getting too much. He was close. Henry threw his head back trying to suppress a moan, but he miserably failed. A choked back wail escaped his now dry lips as his whole body tensed. He squeezed you closer, his fingers lewdly digging into the sweet flesh of your ass. He was crossing many lines but that didn't stop him. He didn't see things clear anymore. His chest heaved, rushing up and down as he fisted his cock, biting into his lower lip as he watched your peaceful expression. 

It was pure, dumb luck that he managed to spot a pack of napkins laying on the night stand mere seconds before he came. His juices eagerly ran down his shaft as he flew through his orgasm, his saviour napkin proving almost useless. 

Coming down from his high, he all but managed to calm down, but his mind was still set. He would never get enough of you. And no matter how many times he'd cum, he'd still be down to go again. You had that power over him.

"Fuck…" Henry panted. And in the blur of the moment he created, he didn't even stop to process his thoughts. Gathering the few droplets of cum that landed on his stomach, he brought his hand up to your face, his thumb rubbing across your lips. 

In that moment, then and there, when you unconsciously wrapped your lips around his finger, he almost lost it all over again. 

"Holy-" he cried again, kissing your forehead. As eager and willing as he was to keep going, Henry stopped himself. He tucked the napkins next to the foot of the bed, pulled his pants back up his hips and settled under the covers. 

Sleep didn't come easy, but he eventually drifted off. Unfortunately, the clock had almost struck 3am by the time he closed his eyes, and no later than 6:15, your alarm went off.

"No" you protested, wiggling around in search of your phone. "No school- no, thank you"

Eyes closed and cheek squished into the pillow, Henry raised his arm and found the phone with ease, handing it to you without a word.

Squinting under the bright light of the screen, you dismissed the alarm and snuggled back into Henry's chest, his arms wrapping around your body in an instant.

And as heavenly as this felt, it only lasted for about 5 minutes, until your alarm went off again. 

"Just turn it off" Henry laughed, kissing your forehead, "I'll wake you up after I make breakfast"

"You don't have to" you protested, throwing in a whine or two as you curled yourself around him.

"I want to"

"No"

"Y/n…"

"Ok fine" you sighed, "Thank you"

"No need darling" Henry chuckled and stood up. He once again pecked the top of your head and then he was gone. About one second and a half later, you were asleep again, only to complain when Henry woke you up.

"It's 7" he stated, gathering the blanket in his arms and allowing the cold air to reach your body.

"Give it back" you cried.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" Henry threatened, and despite his dominating tone, you still refused to take him seriously. When you hid your face between the pillows, he deeply sighed, but satisfaction was still audible in his tone. "Fine then"

Taking you completely by surprise, Henry bent down and gathered you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder with absolute ease.

"Henry-" you yelled, "The fuck-"

"Not gonna be late, Y/n" Henry laughed, "Not on my watch"

"God" you giggled along and allowed yourself to be carried to the kitchen. 

As soon as he walked out of the bedroom, a delicious smell reached your nose. It was probably the first real breakfast you'd had in weeks, so you weren't going to complain anymore. Fresh coffee, toast, avocado, pancakes, hard boiled eggs and a multitude of veggies and fruit awaited on the table.

"I didn't even know I had all this food in my house"

"You didn't-" Henry shook his head, sitting down beside you, "Grabbed them from my place"

"You shouldn't have, but thank you"

"No need" he assured you, "Dig in"

When you were done, and right before you headed to the bathroom to get ready, you turned to him again. "Do you know the number of any locksmiths? I really wanna change the locks"

Following a quick Google search, Henry found a multitude of ads, and after choosing the most trustworthy looking one, he dialed the number as you patiently waited beside him.

Everything seemed to go perfectly well, until he frowned, "No, today pl- [...] No, I'm not locked out of my- [...] You sure-? Ok, ok fine. Ok, tomorrow, first thing, ok, thanks"

"They can't come today?" you pouted as soon as he hung up.

"No, I'm sorry" Henry shook his head, and seeing the disappointment plastered on your face, he spoke up again. "I can stay one more night, if you want to. I'll sleep in the living room-"

"What? No" you scoffed, "It's not that…"

"What is it then?" he questioned, starting to get worried.

You hesitated. "Its no-"

"Don't tell me it's nothing" Henry commanded, pointing a finger at you. A smile appeared at the corner of your lips as you rolled your eyes.

"Ok, fine. I just- I just had to film today for the- you know… That's all, but I can do it some other day"

Henry didn't answer until a smirk tilted the corner of his lips upwards. "Or I could help you?"

"Help me?" you gawked.

"Yeah" he nonchalantly shrugged, "Helped you once before, didn't I?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah" he smiled, "Only if you me want to, of course"

Your knees weakened and your heart was beating in all the wrong ways, so all you managed to do was giggle and shake your head in disbelief. "Well, yeah... I want to"

How were you going to tell him that the video was supposed to be of you fucking yourself with a baby pink dildo? And how exactly was he going to help? You had a long day ahead of you and the ridiculous amounts of school work you had to get done in the meantime didn't allow you to give these questions any kind of priority. All you wanted was for the evening to come around already even if you sweated profusely just at the thought of what was to come.

[rev3rb]

Hey! Sorry for the late ask, I literally just remembered the new chapter is out. And wow did it make me feel a lot of different things. I feel like it’s finally addressed Yuu’s ‘stupidity’ in a substantial way that’s really grounded it in not just his own persistence, but in his belief in Mika and their combined strength. And even though his plan to let Mika make a plan is not immediately promising, I like how they had him reflect on the situation they’re in and fully commit to making the best choices for themselves.

Also there were some much appreciated cute cheeky moments like Mika being chill about Yuu falling off the tower, Yuu self-identifying as the dumb brawn in the duo, and Yuu using Mika’s own words against him.

Ultimately though, their fight hit me right in the feels. It really contrasted Mika’s pessimism to Yuu’s optimism about their relationship and situation at large. Mika’s insistence that he must lose Yuu shouldn’t choose him bc he can’t believe it’s possible for them to actually work out and be happy like he wants. But what got me specifically was Mika telling Yuu that he should learn to like Shinoa back. That he should go live a normal (heterosexual) life without him bc Yuu’s feelings for him are ‘trivial’. As if Yuu could just choose to get over Mika and be happy with Shinoa. Like I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how much that relates to so many ppl’s young queer experiences, but the nuance of the way they represented it in this chapter felt so much bigger to me than anything else between them so far. So sorry to YuuNoa shippers, but if Shinoa and Yuu ever get together after it being stated that Yuu doesn’t even like her at this point in the story, I might actually have to bring out the baiting word frfr.

Don't worry about it anon! I'm going to be super busy this month, so I also actually forgot there was a new chapter at all, which is why this response is even later than usual.

This gets long since I go a bit off the rails so I'm actually gonna utilize a read more this time! Sorry if this is a mess, again I'm busy and my thoughts are a bit scattered as such.

Yeah, you have a point. Really, I'm glad that Kagami didn't suddenly pull a 'Yuu is suddenly a mastermind' sort of thing and is instead sticking to his guns of 'Yuu has no idea what he's doing, but he sure is doing it'. I wasn't expecting that Yuu would suddenly become a mastermind or anything, but I was a bit worried that Yuu would suddenly have some half-baked plan in mind that would just work out because he's the protagonist you know? I'm much happier to see that his plan is to not plan and let Mika, who is way better at this kind of thing, do it. Sure, it's a bit concerning since Mika's just in the dark about the interworkings of everything as Yuu is, but it's a much better alternative.

And, before I dive into the rest of what you said, I'm happy to see them finally trying to set outside of the role of being a pawn. Outside of it showing some character growth for Yuu (kinda), it reflects Guren's story. Yuu and Guren have always had parallels, but Yuu is finally starting to step away from being a pawn, something Guren (arguably) has never really been able to do. Guren tried his damnedest to stop being a pawn in his story. He even also took the approach of 'either we achieve our goal or we die trying', but, in the end, he failed on both accounts because he cared too much. Maybe you could argue he's no longer a pawn with his current resurrection goals, but I'm specifically referring to Catastrophe at 16's story when I say this. Yuu is now essentially in that same position, but I have a feeling that, unlike Guren, he'll be able to break free from his role and actually achieve his goal. It's a very good 'the student surpasses the mentor' type thing. It'd be interesting to see if it's just because Yuu has more protagonist powers than Guren (a.k.a there's no particular reason Yuu succeeds when Guren failed; it just be what it is), or if it's because, unlike Guren, Yuu is able to sacrifice people more easily. As Yuu alludes to here and we saw last chapter, Yuu apparently has no qualms in killing(?) people he considers friends and has called family before. That could certainly play a role in Yuu taking a different path than Guren. However, you didn't really bring any of this up so this is a huge digression from your ask. Sorry about that! Moving on.

Say what you will about OnS, but it always fits in time for little character moments like that. It's fun to see.

To be honest, I don't have much to add to your last paragraph there as yeah, it's an interesting way to read that part of their argument and I can relate. I'll tackle the last bit of it though. For full disclosure, I feel I should say that I don't personally ship YuuNoa, but have no problems with it. If it became canon I just wouldn't be surprised bc that's how most stories like this go. But now into what I intend to say.

Mmm. Honestly, I do think applying "the baiting word" (I've never seen anyone avoid saying it so that made me laugh. thank you truly LOL) is a fair thing to do if that were to happen. The word does get used maybe a little too liberally as fans hype themselves up for a possible gay romance a bit too much sometimes (and I am very guilty of this myself. Don't get me wrong. I too wear my rose-tinted 'no one is straight' glasses at all times), but OnS is pretty heavy-handed with the subtext sometimes, whether it means to be or not. There are a lot of things I could point to with this, but the most glaring one was what happened in this chapter with comparing Yuu's feelings for Mika with his feelings for Shinoa. It's not even something that's exclusive to this chapter, though I don't think it's been this blatant before. Really, the amount of times the love that the protag (I'm grouping Guren in with this bc what he has going on with Mahiru and Shinya is incredibly comparable to what these three have going on) has for their best friend is compared to the love they have/should have with their LI is too great to count. For Yuu in particular though?

Numerous straight romances in shounen (other genres as well, but particularly shounen) feel forced due to the protag having more chemistry with the male (or female if the protag is not male) cast than their straight LI as romance is usually more of an undertone/side thing than the focus (though there are more reasons than that that I won't get into for length purposes), but usually, there's some build-up even if it's a poor excuse for relationship development. For Yuu and Shinoa that's not really the case. Yuu has never shown romantic interest in Shinoa, so it shouldn't be a surprise to see it confirmed here. Any romantic moments from them are only portrayed/seen as such from Shinoa's perspective, so I'm inclined to agree with you that it'd feel very off at this point in time for Yuu to end up with Shinoa. The story isn't over, so there's still time for feelings to build on Yuu's end of things, but right now? Yeah, there isn't anything there for Yuu. His feelings for Mika, romantic or otherwise, are stronger than his feelings for Shinoa.

But I do feel it's worth bringing up that, just because Yuu doesn't have romantic feelings for Shinoa rn doesn't mean MikaYuu will be canon. Who knows, we might end up with Yuu with no one (which would make more sense than YuuNoa at this point in time).

But hey, just because your ship isn't/doesn't end up as canon doesn't mean you can't enjoy it! That's what headcanons and fanworks are for!

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[monicashipslokius]

Soulmates, Actually Pt 3

(read Part 1/Part 2)

Soulmates protect each other.

Loki paces the length of the small bathroom, turning after only two steps. On each turn they catch sight of themself in the mirror, as hard as they try not to. They don’t want to see the cowardice marring their own features. They don’t want to face themself, knowing they are standing here in relative safety at the cost of their soulmate’s.

Through the thin walls, Loki hears another pound on the front door. Mobius calls out, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Loki stops pacing and presses their ear to the bathroom door, straining to hear outside of it.

After the creak of a door opening, Mobius says, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mobius M. Mobius?” Thor has a weakness for Midgard and its people. Even as he speaks to Mobius now, his voice isn’t quite as booming as Loki is accustomed to.

“That’s me. Are you selling something?”

“I...? No. May I enter?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I’m kind of busy, you know?”

“I see,” Thor says. “Wait! I’m looking for someone.”

“Sorry,” Mobius says. The door creaks again, loud, like it tried to close but was blocked by a hard shoulder.

“I must insist,” Thor says, and there’s the booming authority Loki expected. Heavy footfalls step into the apartment. Loki instinctively leans away from the bathroom door. “Do you live here, or is this a closet?”

“Hey, why does everyone think that,” Mobius says, his following footsteps much softer. “My apartment is not that small.”

“It is,” Thor says, blunt as ever, though perhaps his own time on Midgard changed him a small amount, because he immediately adds, “But... nice. Very... brown.” A long, awkward pause. “Seeing this... I feel apologies are in order. I cannot imagine Loki hiding here.”

Loki knows that their usual love of decadent flair is what’s saving them now, but the words still sting. It’s one thing for them to think disparagingly about their new home. It is entirely another for someone else to speak badly of it. Even Thor.

Maybe especially Thor.

“It seems silly now,” Thor says. “I had heard you are their soulmate.”

“It doesn’t seem all that silly,” Mobius says, voice much softer.

“I mean no offense,” Thor says. “Only that you are not their type.”

“Oh? Too old?”

Thor laughs. “Too human. But consider yourself lucky, friend."

"I don't know, I'd think it'd be okay to be the soulmate of a god."

"Not this god," Thor says, and that familiar self-hatred claws at Loki's ribcage from the inside out. They place their hand over their chest, physically pressing down on the feeling, but it does not stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mobius clips his words short.

Loki braces themself as Thor continues, "They never stay with anyone for long. They haven’t met a person yet who could hold their interest.”

“Maybe they just hadn’t met the right person,” Mobius says, stronger.

"Right people tend not to hang around my brother. You may have noticed that they are..." Thor pauses and Loki holds their breath. "A villain." Thor, at least, sounds pained to say it, though that is little comfort for Loki.

The word shouldn't hurt them. It is true. Despite their glorious purpose, they will never be seen as a hero, but only ever as the one who stands in the hero's way.

“Or instead," Mobius says, stronger still. Irritation oozes from his words. "Maybe they got so used to being seen as a villain that they started to think that’s all they are.”

The scratching in Loki's chest slows until it ceases entirely. Mobius.

But the calming effect of Mobius's defensive fury does not linger.

Thor holds his tongue a moment, and in that moment, a thick dread buds in the pit of Loki’s stomach. Thor may be oblivious at times, but he is not totally obtuse. And Mobius is angry enough for even him to take notice.

“Have you seen Loki, Mobius M. Mobius?”

“I think you should leave now,” Mobius says.

“So it’s true?” Thor asks, like he still doesn’t believe it. “You are Loki’s soulmate?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“They must be deceiving you. Tell me where they are, and I will take them back to Asgard. Then you will be safe.”

“Loki’s not going anywhere with you,” Mobius says, stupidly brave. Stupidly perfect.

Outside a storm brews. Thunder rumbles the walls, as loud as Thor’s voice. “Do not stand in my way, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“No, you don’t get to order me around,” Mobius says. “You barge into my home and try to kidnap my soulmate. You didn’t even do it at a reasonable hour. We were asleep!”

“I am a god.” Lightning cracks outside the window, the light so bright, it flashes under the door of the bathroom. “You are a human.”

Mobius huffs out a breath. “I’m not giving them up. You’ll just have to kill me.”

Every nerve in Loki’s body, every pulse in their brain, the very breath in their  lungs - all scream, No!

The bathroom door flies off its hinges from the force of Loki pushing through. Their daggers are in their hands, their armor has replaced their silk pajamas - there is no room for softness here.

Mobius glances behind him from where he’s standing, blocking the bathroom from Thor in the kitchen. “You broke the door,” Mobius says, entirely too calm for a man who was just about to throw his life away.

“We are going to discuss your blatant disregard for your own fragile life,” Loki tells him, stalking forward to Mobius’s side.

“I had it under control,” Mobius says.

Loki sucks in a deep breath to try to tamper down their roaring rage. “No longer will you risk yourself for me.”

“No, sorry, Loki.” Mobius crosses his arms. “You don’t get to boss me around either. I told you, soulmates protect each other. And that’s that.”

“You stupid, brave, impossible man.”

“Dying for you would be worth it.”

“And what am I to do at that point? Hm? Bid your corpse a fond farewell and move along?”

Mobius startles, like he hadn’t thought ahead that far. “Yeah, I guess.”

If Loki wasn’t holding daggers, they would grip him by the shoulders and shake him. “You have no idea what you are to me. You have no perception of how long I have waited for you. For us. For this tiny little room. For everything we shared last night. And all that we will share.”

Mobius’s eyes widen. “Loki -”

“No, Mobius. You will not be throwing your life away. Not now. Not ever. Not while I have strength enough to hold a blade.”

Mobius blinks. The surprise on his face lasts a moment longer, then softens entirely into fondness. “Let’s go to the store later. Buy some stuff. Spruce this place up a little. We can get a plant or two. And maybe a new bathroom door.”

Loki exhales, and the harshest of their anger slips away. “Only if we also buy you new clothes.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Mobius is smiling now.

Loki almost mirrors it. Until he remembers their thunderous brother occupying the entire minuscule kitchen. Thor seems to lack his usual righteousness. Instead, he looks between Loki and Mobius like he has no idea what to make of them. His mouth hangs open but no sound comes out.

A moment, Thor tries, “Brother, you...” He closes his mouth. Opens it. “You... actually care for this little man?”

Loki’s answer comes easier than even they expected, “Yes.”

“I’m not that little,” Mobius says.

Outside the storm clears away and starlight returns. Inside, Thor lowers his hammer to his side, no longer holding it ready to fight. He stares at Loki for a long moment. “We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

Loki’s impulse is to argue. They aren’t yet numb to the pain of Odin’s deception. Of Loki’s own monstrous truth.

But instead of drudging forward that pain, Loki draws strength from Mobius beside them. From the comfort of their home. From the promise of buying new drapes and bed sheets.

“I’m not going back,” Loki says, hating the way their voice cracks. Mobius inches closer to their side, and they stand taller.

“You cannot rule Midgard,” Thor says.

Loki glances at Mobius, who gives them a soft smile.

“Mostly,” Loki says, “I want to buy drapes.”

Mobius’s smile widens, and he dips his head, as if to hide it. Loki loses themself in the sight of such softness and warmth, until they remember their brother again.

Thor watches them, his confusion palpable. “This is not at all as father said it was.”

Loki tenses at the mention of Odin.

“A lot’s different since yesterday,” Mobius says. “Dubuque can really change a person, you know?” Mobius winks at Loki, and a fresh wave of comfort rolls through them.

“Yes,” Loki says. “Dubuque.”

“Perhaps I could return without you,” Thor says, confusion shifting gradually into something more sure. “If you hand over the tesseract.”

Loki pointedly refrains from glancing at the coat closet. As, to Loki’s surprise, does Mobius. Surely he had seen them place the scepter within. Surely he could parse together what the tesseract could be.

“You wouldn’t need it to buy drapes.” Thor’s grip tightens on the handle of Mjolnir, but he does not yet raise it again.

Loki’s body tenses like a bowstring. There is no way out of this then, without a fight. “You have no comprehension of its power, brother. Of what I could have, what I could achieve with it in my possession. With what I’ve been promised.”

“Promised?” Thor asks. “Promised by who?”

A chill creeps over Loki’s skin, inch by slow inch. They think of the creatures that invade their mind, that found them when they fell from the Bifrost.

You could have this, they whisper, even now. You are nothing without this.

“Loki?” Mobius whispers. “Are you okay?”

Shaking their mind free from the dark grasp, Loki thoughts travel instead to those same creatures wrapping Mobius in their viciousness. Tearing him down. Exploiting his deepest vulnerabilities.

The cold runs deep, all consuming.

With the tesseract still in Loki’s possession, maybe they could protect Mobius. Or, the opposite. Maybe those creatures will never stop hunting them until Loki finally does as they command.

When it was Loki alone, forgotten and fallen, following the icy commands was no question, when both vengeance and a crown were promised.

But Loki is no longer alone.

To Loki’s surprise, concern covers Thor’s face as well, and he has taken a step closer, hand half-lifted, as if in a halted attempt to reach out to them.

“The tesseract will not bring you happiness, Loki,” Thor says, and motions toward Mobius. “Not in the way your soulmate can. You must make a choice.”

“They don’t have to chose,” Mobius says. “I’m staying with them, regardless of what they want to do.”

“But they must,” Thor tells him. “I will be leaving here with either Loki or the tesseract. I’d prefer to do it without a fight.”

Mobius takes a step forward. “I already told you, Loki isn’t going anywhere.”

“If forced, I will take you both to Asgard,” Thor says.

Loki thinks of Mobius standing before Odin, of all the brave, protective things he would say to the All-Father in Loki’s defense. And Loki thinks of how fast Odin would cut him down, Loki’s soulmate or not.

“No,” Loki says.

Soulmates protect each other.

Loki disappears their daggers, then goes to the closet and draws open the door. They reach through Mobius’s brown suits and retrieve the scepter. It’s cold in their hand.

They could grab Mobius and teleport away. Together, they could go anywhere. Thor would need time to track them down. But they’d have to keep running. They’d never be able to stop.

Loki thinks of Mobius, sweating in the desert. Humans are weak, fragile things. Mobius would not be able to sustain that kind of life.

The scepter, the creatures, whisper to Loki, He will die anyway. Why shouldn't you have more?

"All my life, I’ve been in your shadow,” Loki says to Thor. Thor lifts his hammer, readying for the fight to come. “This is my chance to carve my own path. To find my own throne. The Midgardians are hapless. They are in desperate need of a ruler.”

Loki looks at Mobius and finds him watching Thor, body tense like he intends to jump in the way if Thor were to attack. He will die anyway.

“There is no happiness in the promise of a throne, Loki.” Thor frowns, and after a brief, sideways glance at Mobius, his eyes turn sad. “We have waited the same for a soulmate. You have found yours, while I am still waiting. I ask you, who lives in envy of who?”

A new feeling twists inside Loki - something like... pity? For Thor? No. Impossible. Thor has had a life filled with all of his whims being catered to. Ever the favorite. The favored.

Yet.

Thor has no Mobius of his own.

He will die anyway. But. Not yet. Not yet.

“To be honest,” Mobius says, drawing Loki’s attention. “Humans are kind of a drag. We fight all the time, can’t agree on anything. I know that’s half why you think you can fix it all, but really, it sounds like a bigger headache than it’s worth.” He shrugs. “You and I, we’ll do whatever you want. I’ve got your back 100%. But... if you were King of Earth, do you get any vacation days? Cause I got some places I really want to take you.”

Looking at Mobius, hearing his words, listening to the steady cadence of his voice, Loki warms from the inside out.

“We need to go to the beach. You saw my jetski picture, right?” Mobius turns to Thor. “You ever been on a jetski?”

Thor blinks at him. “...No?”

“You’ll love it. It’s so much fun. Out on the waves, just you and the ocean - with the wind in your hair, and the sun all bright.” Mobius turns his smile back to Loki, and Loki doubts any sunshine could ever be as brilliant as him. “What do you think, Loki?”

The cruel whispers grow dim. Thoughts of, You are nothing without a crown, are replaced with, What worth is a crown without him?

The chill burns away, until the scepter is too cold, too painful to hold.

Loki moves closer to the kitchen. Thor raises his hammer. Mobius hurries forward.

But everyone stops when Loki surrenders the scepter - the tesseract - to Thor. As soon as it is gone from their hand, Loki feels a heavy weight lifted away. The chill leaves entirely, and their mind is silent once more.

“You’ve made the right choice, brother,” Thor says. They lower Mjolnir to the ground to look closer at the scepter.

“Odin will not be pleased when you return without me,” Loki says.

Thor hums. “I will pass along your promise to behave yourself.”

“I made no such promise.” With Loki’s new weightlessness, a small, sly smirk slips onto their lips. It's shaky and unsure, but Thor doesn't mention it.

Thor slides his gaze to Mobius. “I think you will have your hands too full to do otherwise, with how quickly this one throws himself into trouble.” He pitches his voice low. “I like him. He’s small, but brave.”

Pride swells in Loki. They didn’t need Thor’s approval, but having it...

“Mobius M. Mobius!” Thor walks to Mobius and draws him into a tight hug. “Now my brother. I await the day our paths cross again!”

Mobius awkwardly pats him on the back. “Yeah, sure! Sounds great.”

As they break, Loki begins to steer Thor toward the door. Thor looks as if he also wants to wrap Loki in a hug, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead, he simply says, "We will see each other again."

"We will," Loki says, a promise. And for now, it is enough.

Thor starts forward, when Mobius calls out, “Wait, you forgot your hammer.”

Loki and Thor both turn away from the door, toward the kitchen - where Mobius stands, hand gripping Mjolnir’s handle, holding it up off the ground. He brings it forward and hands it to Thor, who stares at him, mouth agape.

Mobius says, “Surprisingly light?”

Loki bites back a smile. They knew their soulmate was no ordinary mortal.

Thor looks at Mobius like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Only to those who are worthy. You are small in stature, but not in heart, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“Uh, thanks?” Mobius says. Softer, he adds, “I’m really not that small.”

*

When Thor is gone, with the slightly damaged front door bolted behind him, Mobius turns to Loki and says, “Told you I’d get rid of him.”

Loki reaches out, grabs Mobius by the shoulders, and pulls him into their embrace. They do not let go for a long time.

Mobius holds them back, nose tucked into the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. “I would have followed you,” he says, voice muffled. “You want to be king? We’d make it happen. You didn’t have to give it up.”

Loki will tell him of the whispers and the cold, of the dark promises made. Later. “Perhaps another time,” they say. “Plenty of life to find a throne of my own.” Though as the words leave them, they know they are only half true. Plenty of time for Loki. No time at all for Mobius. The creatures no longer whisper in Loki's mind but they still hear their mocking, He will die.

“I was thinking we could get a couple chairs while we’re out.”

Loki can’t help and doesn’t stop their grin, even as their heart aches. “See? My fortune is already changing.”

“I’ll buy you the best throne,” Mobius says. “You ever heard of La-Z-Boy?”

Loki closes their eyes, presses their forehead to Mobius's shoulder, and wonders how, with the cruel inevitability of human mortality, they will ever go on without this man.

[lag1995-fics]

Hello!! I love how you write your stories! Is it okay if I request a story about Peter figuring out he can move/control metal while hanging out with the other x-men? And he accidentally makes them all start floating (because he's controlling the metal in their clothing) and everyone is trying to get him to calm down? Maybe even throw in some dadneto?

Hey Love ❤️ really sorry about the wait work has been a real bitch lately. I promise I haven’t forgotten any of you.

Magnetic

Pairing: mostly just dadneto but it does have a pinch of cherik because it’s canon in my mind

Words:1220

Warnings: my language but that’s about it

Summary: Peter becomes a human magnet 🧲

Masterlist

///::::///

Peter didn’t get upset often, he was the type to bottle his emotions until they exploded from the internal pressure. He had been shoving down his feelings about Erik for over ten years now and unknowingly shoving down his secondary mutation from manifesting along with said emotions. But like with all things emotions can’t be stamped out they will come out sometime if you don’t deal with them and it’s usually at the worst moment possible.

Peter’s moment came in a petty argument with Scott. Something a twenty six year old shouldn’t be doing especially with someone nearly ten years younger than them. It wasn’t even a good argument; it was over something as asinine as whether Peters silver pants were lame or not.

Peter and the kids had been chilling in one of the common areas. The kids pretty much flocked to Peter like a cool older brother. It had made him uncomfortable at first, he didn’t want to be that guy who hung out with teenagers. Adults that hung out with kids were weird, he was much more comfortable hanging out with Raven. He just wished she would drop the whole you should talk to your dad thing.

“Nice pants” Scott had scoffed at the speedster who only raised his eyebrow at the kid.

“Thank you, I spray painted them myself,” Peter informed him, his eyes twinkling. This only seemed to piss off Scott even more, he wanted to argue and it seemed like Peter wasn’t having it.

“Oh we can all see that” Scott scoffed and Peter felt a small thread of irritation run through him. Scott was notoriously a shit stirrer and liked to get under people’s skin.

“Nobody likes a bully, Scott,” Jean said without looking up from the copy of Hamlet she was reading. Scott looked properly chastised after being called out by his girlfriend. Peter knew that wouldn’t keep his mouth shut long.

“Yell nobody likes looking at a metallic eyesore” Scott laughed and Peter could feel his irritation building up. Jean huffed and got up just in time to drag scot away. It was too late though the emotions had already started to bubble up and instead of word vomit all the loose metal in the room started to levitate.

Once the objects were floating they started shooting towards Peter causing him to make a very “manly” squeal of surprise. Jean and Scott who had been in the doorway about to exit stopped to stare.

“What the hell” he yelled, unable to unstick any of the metal that had become attached to his person. Peter could feel the panic and anxiety start to build up which only threw his new found powers even more out of control. He tried shaking at superspeed to get the metal to fall off.

“I’m gonna go get the professor” Kurt declared with wide eyes when he saw that Peter was not in control. Kurt was gone with a bamf up to the professor’s study. Unfortunately for Peter or some might say it was fortunate, his father Erik happened to be up there playing chess with the professor.

***

*BAMF*

Erik blinked in surprise when the blue child teleported directly into Charles’ study. His surprise quickly turned to irritation, he was reminded again that this was a school and there would be no peace. His irritation then turned to slight guilt when he saw Charles’ worried face.

“What is wrong my boy?” Charles asked the nervous blue child. He couldn’t be more than 15, still all gangly limbs and awkward stares.

“It’s Peter, everything is sticking to him!” The frazzled teenager yelped. Erik felt an inexplicable rush of concern for the silver haired mutant. He had grown to like the boy in the brief time that he had known him.

“Kurt would you be kind enough to take us to Peter” Charles’ voice sounded right like he knew something and wasn’t sharing the information. Kurt nodded, taking each of the men’s arms. With a bamf the three were in one of the common rooms.

Erik for all that he had seen in his life could honestly say he had never been more stunned. There standing by the sofa was Peter covered in metal odds and ends looking completely miserable with a teaspoon stuck to his cheek. Erik stared mouth agape at the sight before him.

“It seems Peter has manifested a secondary mutation” Charles' voice brought Erik out of his stunned stupor. Peter, who had only just noticed the two new arrivals turned lobster red with embarrassment and began frantically shaking his limbs trying to dislodge the metal from his person.

“Peter, you need to calm down, only that will free the metal, Charles' voice cut through the chaos. Peter froze resembling a child with their hand caught in the cookie tin.

“Students please clear the room please,” he continued and the students dutifully filed out of the room leaving just Peter, Charles and Erik. Erik took the time that Peter was standing still to study the boy with his new knowledge. He hadn’t noticed before, his shock of silver hair and loud clothing drew one's eye away from his facial features. Peter had a very familiar face, he had Magda’s smile. He also had Erik’s nose and his Mama’s eyes. Erik was floored how he could have missed something so glaringly obvious.

Peter was his child, his adult child. He had missed out on his child’s entire life. He refused to miss a minute more he would be there for Peter no matter what, the Brotherhood be damned. Nothing came before his family, not even mutant kind.

Peter was following Charles' instructions , breathing in deep and holding them before letting them out. Slowly the bits of metal began to drop from Peter’s body.

“That’s it Peter, find your happiest memory” Erik suggested, coming to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Peter’s breathing stuttered at the physical contact but quickly evened out again. It took Erik and Charles another fifteen minutes but soon Peter was completely calm and a pile of metal lay at his feet.

“Peter, can we talk?” Erik asked, Peter’s eyes went wide but he nodded. Charles excused himself without a word and Erik made a mental note to confront his lover about keeping things from him.

“So...what did you want to talk about?” Peter asked laughing nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You said something to me ten years ago, with the chaos I didn’t have time to give it thought,” Erik started and Peter made an audible gulping noise in the back of his throat.

“Huh? Did I, about karate I think?” Peter deflected, uncomfortable with the building tension.

“No Peter, I think you know what I’m referring to. You mentioned something about your mother knowing someone who could bend metal.” Erik stated pointedly but not unkindly.

“Uh yeah” he rubbed even more furiously at the back of his neck.

“Yes and now you are experiencing a secondary metallokinesis mutation. Tell me Peter, was your mother’s name Magda?” He asked and Peter could feel all the emotional walls he had built crumble.

“Yes” Peter answered looking anywhere but at his father. That’s why he didn’t see it coming when he was suddenly wrapped in Erik’s long armed embrace.

As always thank you for reading. Feel free to drop an ask.

[almostnugget]

Here Lies...

Reggie x Ghost!Reader

It’s on an off day that you find Reggie on the beach, quieter—more mournful—than you’ve ever seen him. You propose an unusual solution.

Warnings: vague mentions and talk of death/dying, angst, talk about inadequate parents, etc. also the word ‘hell’ is written Once? (twice now ig)

A/N: y’all seemed into this idea so im Delivering. had the idea awhile ago when i read a few fics about reggie dying first and now I’ve actually...dOne something with it. so here! hope you enjoy!

Reggie was acting strange. You aren’t sure when you noticed, how you noticed, but he was. There was a certain quietness to him, something like that wasn't normal. You wanted to think nothing of it, but when you found the others in the studio without him, you couldn't help but wonder.

Alex and Luke seemed hesitant to tell you where he'd gone, as if they knew what you had already suspected and didn't want to tell you. Alex caved—despite Luke's protests.

It feels weird to be back at the beach, your hands laying stagnant at your side as you spot the familiar figure sitting in the sand.

Your better judgement tells you to leave. You never bothered to involve yourself like this before, there's no reason to do it now. Yet, you still walk over and settle down in the sand beside him.

Neither of you talk. You don’t know what to say if you wanted to, instead just absentmindedly pulling at the strings of your jeans and trying not to nervously bite at your nails.

You’re still looking out at the ocean, listening to the dull chatter of passersby and the crashing waves, when Reggie finally speaks.

"Did they tell you I died first?"

Your breath almost catches in your throat. Instead, you don’t reply, only sending him a quick glance. Nothing could quite articulate what went through your mind when he said that. It never quite occurred to you that one of the boys had to go first, and it never occurred to you that it would've been Reggie.

"In the ambulance," he continues, fiddling with his own hands. It's a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed before, but only rarely seen. "I can still remember it." He lets out a shaky breath and you fight the urge to frown. "All of it."

When he doesn't speak again, you both fall back into silence. You’ve never been good at this. Comforting people isn't your forte, you can hardly comfort yourself. Hell, maybe Reggie doesn't even want that. He wanted to be alone, probably, and you forced your way here.

Your words fall out before you can stop them.

"I don't," you breathe, still looking out at the ocean as your eyes trail over the horizon. "I remember everything that led up to it. But I don’t actually remember how it...felt.” You instinctively wince as you remember the cold water against your skin, but you press on. “I remember some of the dark room, but then...I was just back on the beach.”

Reggie watches you and the way you continue to tug at the frayed strings of your jeans. You both fall into silence again. It's like neither of you really knows what to say, what you want to say, what you need to say.

You’re not sure when you speak up again, how long after, but you do. “Have...have you seen it? Your grave?" You ask tentatively, looking over at the ghost beside you. Reggie's looking forward when he shakes his head. You nod a little, biting your tongue before letting out a sigh. "I've seen mine."

That catches his attention as he looks over, his thoughtful expression switching to one of concern. "Y-you have?" You nod again. He stammers a little before blowing out a heavy sigh.

You push herself to your feet, Reggie watching as you does so. "Come on," you say finally, holding a hand out. Reggie's gaze flickers from you to you outstretched hand and there's a moment before he takes it, allowing you to pull him to his feet.

When you get to the cemetery, it's fortunately pretty empty. Reggie looks around apprehensively, but he still follows you as you walks. It's clear you’ve been here more than once.

Your pace slows, the pair of you coming to a stop in front of a grave at the end of a long row. The tombstone isn't particularly ornate, but it isn't overwhelmingly plain either.

"Tada," you say mirthlessly, removing your hands from your jacket pockets to gesture toward the rock. You go to move, before stopping. "Think it's disrespectful to step on your own grave?"

Reggie lets out a weak laugh that makes you feel marginally better about the entire ordeal. You smile sorrowfully before kneeling down in front of your own tombstone, ignoring the faint chill that runs down your spine when you do.

He notices that there isn't much on the stone to begin with as you trail your hand over the etchings: Y/N L/N. It's painfully simple, even more so by the muddied years below your name, worn at with time.

"That's all?" Reggie asks, a certain degree of hesitance to his voice. "No...quote?" You smile a little as you glance up at him.

"No quote," you confirm. "I was a foster kid, Reg. Not much to say when you get bounced around a lot." Your hand trails over your last name. "This is all I've got from my parents."

He swallows thickly, unsure what to say now. It feels like he has to apologize somehow. But you lean away from your tombstone and push yourself to stand, the ghost of a smile on your face.

"Don't feel bad, I've had a while to get used to it," you assure, shrugging a little. Reggie doesn't reply, but you can tell he's desperately trying to think of something to say. "Reg, it's okay," you repeat, stepping closer and setting your hands on his arms. Your hands eventually fall and you look out at the rest of the cemetery. "Do...do you wanna see yours?"

Reggie's eyes widen a little. "I-It's here?"

You nod, moving to stand beside him. You point out a grave several rows away, but he can see it—feel it—even from here. "I saw it the last time I was here," you admit, frowning a little. "Small world, huh?"

"Yeah," he says lowly. There's apprehension before he starts moving towards it, but he does nonetheless. You follow him. You try to create distance now and then, but he looks back at you every time you do like he doesn't want to be alone, so you stop.

When the two of you get to his grave, you almost wince as Reggie stares upon his very own tombstone. You can't remember dying, but you can remember seeing your grave. You imagine it feels similar.

Reggie kneels down in front of the tombstone, eyes carefully reading the engravings; Reginald Peters, 1978 - 1995, Loving Son. The grass is a little overgrown at the bottom, but it's all still legible.

He lets out a shaky breath, you carefully watching him in case this turns out to be a bad idea. Neither of you speak for what feels like a long while, but Reggie doesn't seem eager to leave, so you hope it's okay.

Biting your tongue, you look around before settling on an idea. "I'll be right back," you state, causing Reggie to look away from his tombstone. He can't even argue as you start to walk away, he can only watch with a frown. He wanted to be alone before, before all of this, but not now.

Fortunately, you do come back like you promised. Your hands are behind your back as Reggie glances up. You fidget uncomfortably before bending down and setting some flowers in front of the stone.

“It looked empty," you admit softly, shrugging a little when Reggie looks away from the flowers and back at you.

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Where'd you get those?"

"There's a stall, nearby. I might've...stolen them," you confess, wrinkling your nose as Reggie lets out a laugh. Of course you did. The gesture won't be forgotten though. "Are you...okay?"

He looks back at the grave, wondering that himself. However, there's something cathartic about seeing his grave like this. It finalizes everything, sure, but it puts things in perspective.

Reggie stands up, you worriedly watching him. He doesn't speak, only moving back toward a nearby bench and taking a seat. You tentatively follow, settling beside him, your back pressed against the opposite arm as you cross your legs.

“Reggie?" You call softly. He doesn't think he's ever heard anyone say his name that softly. He looks over, taking in the expression on your face and the way your brows furrow. "I...I can leave you alone?"

Instead, he shakes his head. You frown a little, letting your hands fall into your lap as you continue to watch him and the way he looks out at the rest of the cemetery.

Reggie lets out a shaky breath. "It's okay," he finally says, you sitting up. He fights himself on his next words, but they come out regardless. "Good to know my parents cared enough to...you know," he gestures weakly to the tombstone.

"Oh, Reggie," you sigh, scooting closer until your knees brush against him. He looks over. "Just because your parents fought doesn't mean they didn't love you."

“Felt like it sometimes," he admits softly, you frowning further.

“I'm sorry you felt like that," you settle on, but it's clear you’re not done. "But them fighting? It's not your fault." He doesn't know how you know what to say next, but you do. "Dying wasn't either." He looks momentarily surprised, wondering how you could've possibly guessed. You shrug, as if continuing to read his mind. "It wasn't hard to guess."

"Yeah, Luke and Alex said that too," he responds with a sigh, shoulders falling as he lets his hand rest against the arm of the bench.

“I don't say this often, and I won't, but they're right." He looks back at you, noticing the serious look on your face. Neither of you are hardly ever serious, at least not like this. "It's really not your fault, any of it." There's a pause, neither one saying anything before you begin to smile. "I've got an idea," you say excitedly, hitting Reggie in the leg before getting to your feet.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Reggie asks quickly, furrowing his brows.

“I think you deserve a eulogy," you admit, with a deep breath.

Reggie's confusion furthers. "But...it's not my funeral?"

You let out a light laugh, stepping back towards his spot on the bench as he cranes his neck to look up at you. "But you are a ghost,” you whisper, leaning in close.

"Oh."

You step back and straighten up. "So! You'll be getting a eulogy by yours truly! This is a once-in-an-afterlifetime opportunity, so prepare yourself!"

Reggie can't help but smile now as he sits up, almost on the edge of his seat now. "I'm ready!"

“If this gives you an ego? I will be taking it all back," you warn him, but his smile doesn't falter. He only nods, bouncing his legs a little in excitement. You sigh, shaking your hands loose and clearing your throat. "Reginald Peters, better known as Reggie, was...an incredible person. He was, apparently, a loving son, but he was more than that."

You’re too busy trying to choose the proper words to even notice the way Reggie's face seems to soften as you speak.

"Reggie was talented. He could shred on the bass—"

"—and the banjo!"

You chuckle softly. "And the banjo. His country songs were pretty good too." Reggie watches the way you tug at your sleeves, a soft smile on his face. "More than that, he— he was one of the nicest and funniest people I've ever met. Anyone was lucky to meet him, but they were even luckier to have him in their life."

You carefully avoid his gaze, as if finding your own words too much, but Reggie can only continue to watch you with a fond expression that you don’t even notice.

"But, none of that really matters because Reginald Sinclair isn't someone you can ever forget. His memory and his soul will forever live on. ...Not just because he's currently a ghost in a band in LA or anything like that."

You both laugh a little as you finish, stepping back up to settle beside him on the bench. Your eyes cast back out toward the cemetery as you do, carefully missing the gaze Reggie fits you with.

"That would've been better if I actually wrote something, but—" you start, wrinkling your nose as you already begin to recall everything you said a moment ago.

"Thanks," Reggie cuts you off. When you look at him, you meet his eyes this time and you both seem to go quiet. You hadn't meant to sit so close, but now you can feel his breath on your face as your breath hitches.

"Yeah, well..." you trail off, voice barely above a whisper. Biting your tongue, you get to your feet before anything can happen—not that it would, of course. "So, do you wanna head back or...?"

"Wait! What about you?" He asks, shooting to his feet. Your brows furrow.

"What about me?"

“Your eulogy," he supplies and you’re quick to realize he's prepared to give you one. The thought alone makes your face heat up. Reggie saying nice things about you? You’re not sure you could handle it.

You shake your head. "No, no, we don't have to do any of that," you insist with a forced chuckle, ducking your head to walk past him.

He's quick to rush after you. "C'mon—"

"We can do it another time," you settle, nearing the exit of the cemetery. Your words slow Reggie in his tracks.

"Right, next time," he mutters, prompting you to turn back. He suddenly looks crestfallen and you waste no time in pressing toward him.

“Yeah, like we can come back?"

"Yeah..." Reggie trails off, your eyes falling to watch as he plays with his hands like he does when he's nervous.

“Reggie?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a sigh. "The guys and I— We have to cross over," he admits slowly, eyes carefully watching the ghost in front of him.

Your face seems to fall. "Oh."

The dots in your head seem to connect. No wonder he’d been feeling so particularly...low today, of all days. He hasn’t the time for much else.

"We don't want to!" Reggie says quickly, not wanting you to get any kind of wrong idea. "We really don't want to, but—"

“Caleb's stamp, right?" You ask, quirking a brow. "Wasn't just a stamp, was it?" Reggie frowns, shaking his head. "Yeah, I figured as much." You almost want to roll your eyes as you pivot on your heels to begin walking again.

“It's either that or join his house band for eternity or stop existing, so!" He adds on, hurrying after you. His shoulders fall. "Not like we can cross over."

“Why not?" You question after what feels like a long moment of silence. Reggie watches you and the way you choose to keep your eyes ahead instead of sparing him a glance.

"We might have to play at the Orpheum."

“Of course," you almost scoff, and it nearly makes Reggie wince. He assumes you’re mad at him or something akin to that, but you suddenly stop. "We'll figure something out," you then say, crossing your arms over chest and actually turning to look at him now.

“Are ghosts even allowed in the Orpheum?"

“Doesn't matter, you guys are gonna perform there one way or another. Better than not existing at all, right?" It's like that was supposed to be a joke as you force a smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. You then bump your shoulder against his in an attempt to dissipate the tension you inadvertently created.

You didn't mean to be upset, to make Reggie feel like you were mad at him, instead of for him—maybe for yourself too, as selfish as that sounds. But you can't ignore the tightness in you chest either when you think of losing someone you never even had. All you can do is push it down.

It's with that fading tightness that you start walking again, Reggie lingering back. He didn't want this to happen, any of it. He meant what he had said, they really didn't want to cross over. As you glance back, he knows it to be even more true.

You usher him to follow, your expression subtly softening, and it's with a deep breath that he follows after you.

[fanfickittycat]

Warmth

TITLE: Warmth

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: fanfickittycat

FANDOM: Haikyuu!!

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

GENRE: Romance/Fluff

FIC SUMMARY: You and Wakatoshi get caught in the rain when you wait for him after practice and he is determined to keep you warm

RATING: T  (no smut but kinda spicy at the end)

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: nudity and ushijima being blunt af lmao. You can also read it on AO3 here

Ushijima sighed when he saw you, which wasn’t the greeting you had wanted at all. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” You asked, feeling a little hurt. He told you that practise had been extended by a couple of hours and you had insisted on meeting him anyway, taking the opportunity to get some much-needed reading done in the meantime. “I’m always happy to see you” he said, not letting you continue with that train of thought “but I told you not to wait for me.” This was true. Wakatoshi was never one to mince words, always saying exactly what he meant, even if it was over text. “I thought it would be nice. We always hang out on Fridays.” You felt dejected now, and worst, embarrassed by how desperate you were to see him. You looked down at your shoes which were still damp from the rain and tried to silence the sad thudding of your heart. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but you wished he would say something to ease the aching in your chest. “I don’t like when you’re out late” he said plainly “it’s dark, and all this rain isn’t good for you.” You huffed “I’m fine.” Ushijima always seemed to see you as smaller than you really were; fragile and bearing a label that said, ‘to be handled with the utmost care’. He would never let you clamber on the counter in search of something on the top shelf; always insist you wore a scarf when there was even the slightest chill in the air; and even if you were just tipsy off of wine, he’d make you drink a full glass of water. He was sweet but overbearing at times. “I don’t want you to get sick.” “I just wanted to do something nice for you” you mumbled, feeling yourself stiffen and then relax when he petted your head. “I don’t doubt your intentions” he said, and you peeked up at him, finally looking him in the eyes again “I appreciate it.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks flush despite the temperature drop from the evening’s rainstorm. He smiled too, letting his hand cup your cheek. It was warm, and rough from practise, but he cradled the side of your face like it was something precious. His thumb stroked over your skin softly, and you leaned into his touch happily like a cat.

“Come, let’s go.” He said, taking your umbrella from you and shaking it out. He opened it before taking your hand in his to walk to his apartment. It was a short distance away, but the rain was relentless, and the added gusts of wind made it worst. You winced, as the wind whipped your cheeks, and the stray raindrops wet your back, making you shiver. You heard Ushijima mutter something under his breath and looked up to see his teeth clenched as the wind forced the umbrella to fly up and turn inside out. He took his hand off yours to try and close it and open it properly, but the elements had taken your red umbrella and promptly battered it, making it impossible to open smoothly again.

“Let’s wait there” Ushijima pointed to an awning that hung over a closed store, and you rushed to be out of the rain. “Toshi…” you watched him struggle to work the umbrella again “I think it’s broken.” He joined you in looking down at the broken metal rib of the umbrella and pressed his lips together momentarily. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.” “It’s okay” you reached out to touch his arm “you’re soaked.” He looked down at you apologetically. “You are too.” He blinked when you giggled at your shared predicament. “We’re nearly at your apartment” you pointed out “we should run.” He raised an eyebrow “how will you keep up with me?” This was harsh but true. You weren’t built to run like he was, he actually trained, you just lay in bed and scrolled through Twitter. “I have a better plan” he announced, going to throw your umbrella in a nearby bin before returning to you. You watched as he shrugged off his sports jacket and handed it to you. “But Toshi!” “Put it on. You need it more than I do.” You knew he wouldn’t let up, so you conceded, putting your arms through and zipping it up. Only the tops of your fingers peeked out of the sleeves, and the bottom of the jacket brushed your knees. You felt ridiculous but the newfound warmth eclipsed it easily. “Here” he leaned down, squatting nearly to the floor. “Ummmm…” He turned his head so you could see one of his dark eyes “climb on my back. It’s more efficient than you running beside me.” You nearly choked on your saliva when he said that. You had never gotten a piggyback ride from Wakatoshi before, you weren’t even sure he knew the phrase ‘piggyback ride’. Gingerly, you put you secured your hands on his shoulders, feeling shy suddenly. You squeaked when his hand gripped the underside of your thigh, and he hoisted the two of you up. “Wow. You’re really tall” you said dumbly, looking down at the pavement from his height. No wonder he was always so concerned about you, you must have looked tiny to him. “I’m below the average height for spikers” he informed you patiently, but he couldn’t deny the swell of pride he got whenever you were in awe of his physicality.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting his bag so that it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for you. You squeezed his shoulder in confirmation, holding on tighter as you felt him tense before breaking into a run. The rain hit instantly, soaking Ushijima’s jacket again, and the wind was persistently thrashing your hair, but it was exhilarating. You couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter as you clung to your boyfriend. It wasn’t something you could explain. The rain lashing against you, the wind raging, the utter absurdity of the situation, the feeling of Toshi being so close to you. It was a heady, hysterical mix. When Wakatoshi bent down for you to climb off his back you almost stumbled, still giggling a little as you did so.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself” he said, putting his key in the door. “I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard” you said, shivering as you followed him to the lifts. He took your hands in his and breathed on them, rubbing his palms against the tops of your hands to warm you up. He led you into the lift, clicking the 3 before resuming his task again. “We’ll have to do it again” he said, “I like hearing you like that.” “Toshi” you mumbled his name, feeling butterflies spawn in your stomach again.

“Come, let’s get you warmed up” he said, pulling you towards his door. He opened it, ushering you in before closing the door. He was so methodical in his actions. With a practised hand he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and hung his bag up. You unzipped his jacket, and he took it from you to hang up alongside his bag. “T-Toshi, what’re you doing?” you choked, watching as he pulled his shirt off. It wasn’t as though you’d never seen him shirtless before, you had been intimate with him many times, but it never failed to make your brain malfunction when you saw the smooth planes of pale muscle. You struggled to form a coherent word when he tugged off his sweatpants, looking curiously at your warm face. “One of the easiest ways to develop a cold is from staying in wet clothes” he informed, approaching you to unbutton your blouse. Your breath hitched as he undid each button carefully, not wanting a repeat of the time he pulled too hard and broke half the buttons on your shirt. You had to go home the next day in one of his t-shirts and a promise to buy you a new one, but you hadn’t minded too much, instead declaring that you should get to keep the t-shirt as compensation instead. He hadn’t argued against that and now you slept in it. “It is imperative that we shower as soon as possible” he said, tugging your jeans down, you leaned one hand on his shoulder as you stepped out of them. His hot breath against your thigh almost made your knees weak, causing you to grip him harder. You were almost afraid to let go of him when he remerged, holding a bundle of your shared wet laundry. “I’ll put these to dry, you start the shower” he said nonchalantly, turning to put them on the drying rack, as though the two of you weren’t stripped down to your underwear.

You tiptoed to the bathroom, starting the shower as you usually would, straightening up when you heard him pad towards you. “Do you want to go first?” You asked, feeling the water. “It’s more efficient if we go together” he said directly, he looked at your face “why are you shy? We’ve seen each other naked before.” You cringed “yeah but…” you struggled to justify your bashfulness, hooking your thumbs into your panties and nervously bringing them down your damp legs. “Here” he unclipped your bra expertly after seeing you struggle to do it with your numb fingers. Wakatoshi stepped into the shower first and then offered his hand to you to hold as you got in. The warm water was a welcome relief, but you couldn’t feel that much of it because Ushijima was in front of you. “Come here” he took the shower head down and sprayed you directly whilst you lathered your hands with soap. He hummed happily when you began to massage it into his taut arms, working your way up to his neck which you could barely reach, and then down his pectorals. “Toshi” you huffed, as your soapy hands pressed against his abs. He affixed the shower head and looked down at you. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” “No. Yes. I mean yes.” You cleared your throat, quickly stopping his hand from reaching for the shampoo “kiss” you said urgently, clawing at his abdomen for him to come down to you. He complied, leaning down and capturing your lips lightly with his. He made a soft groan into your mouth when you pushed yourself closer to him, tangling your digits in his wet, olive hair. His own hands curled around your waist, and your thighs pressed together as the warm stream of water flowed down his arms and then the back of your legs. You pulled away and smiled at his red, dumbstruck face “thanks for always keeping me warm, Toshi”.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

A Darcy Day Off

As promised, I present ~6,800 words of a sick, miserable Fitz/willi/am Dar/cy. I’ve been working on this on and off for an embarrassingly long time so I’m glad to finally clear it out of my WIP folder to make room for new things. But honestly, it was a pleasure to write, and I hope some of you take pleasure in reading it as well!

Definitely he first chapter, and honestly the first 2 chapters are mostly exposition, so if you want to skip straight to the sickfic goodness and reduce the word count, head to chapter 3. But I had fun writing (and worked hard on) the banter and conversation in the beginning, so I opted to keep it. 

( @chezsnez @empresskaze @groundcontrol21 you all asked so nicely, so I hope this is what you were looking for! )

1.

“Darcy, dear, what’s keeping you? I thought we were to meet in the library for tea,” Elizabeth called. She found him still in his study, hunched over the desk. She danced to his side, planting a kiss atop his head. He leaned against her briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I had more business to attend to today than I’d realized. Just finishing up now.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then his nose, trying to be rid of a tickle that had been infuriating him all day.

“Always at your work. I wonder our estate isn’t the finest run in Britain. And here I used to think people of high class such as yourself worried for nothing but amusing themselves all day.” She gently rubbed his neck where she knew he always got an ache when he wrote. He kissed her hand fondly.

“You are of such a class, too, now, my love. And how do you know it isn’t the finest? I’d be willing to wager a year’s salary this estate could be measured against parliament’s own estates and be proven worthy, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You pour your very soul into all that goes on here, and it’s one of the many things I adore about you. I am proud every day to be the mistress of such an estate. Only I wish you wouldn’t work so hard and take more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Are you accusing me of ignoring you, dearest? Only say the word and I would throw all my responsibilities to the winds and devote myself fully to your entertainment.” 

He kept his tone light and playful, teasing her, but looked at her closely even as he did. Had he been neglecting her too much of late? He had had several pressing business matters on his mind these last weeks, and he knew he had been at his desk more than usual. Lizzie had not complained of course, and had been nothing but supportive and helpful, but the last thing he would ever want to do is make her doubt where his priorities lay, namely that she was foremost in his mind and heart, and in all things.

“Not at all, for you well know I’m quite fond of my own company. However, I can't help but worry about you. You put too much responsibility on yourself; you are positively careworn these days. I only wish your more lighthearted side could see the light of day now and again, and not just when we’re alone.”

“I am my truest self when I’m with you.” He kissed her hand again, then rubbed his nose. “I will always struggle being lighthearted while working. The two have never gone hand in hand in my experience; gravity and soberness were expected whilst doing business in my growing years under my father, and others. All the more reason I have need of your influence.” 

She kissed his head again. “Very well, I accept the mantle of helping you find levity in your working hours. If only so that the strain you put on yourself will not affect your health. You put on a casual, careless demeanor in public, but I know better. You bear the weight of the world on those broad shoulders of yours, and that is a burden no man is meant to carry, even by his own choice. So come now, and join your wife for tea. The letters can wait another hour or so, surely.

“Indeed they can.” He stood and stretched stiffly. The chill winter wind howled outside and the sound made him shiver, glad for the roaring heat from the fire nearby, and in every room in the house as he moved to escort his wife to the library. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The couple spent a pleasant hour or two in their favorite room in the house, chatting warmly at times, and sitting in comfortable silence at others. The relentless wind made Darcy feel sleepy and lazy, and he wanted nothing more than to take his wife’s advice and take the rest of the day to relax. He would have been content to remain here for the rest of the evening with his favorite person and simply read and chat and perhaps nap. But he had two more letters that needed to make the post tomorrow, and if he did not finish them now, he never would. He stood quietly and brushed his lips across his wife’s cheek. She nuzzled back, then watched as he lingered before the library fire longer than necessary, warming his hands and rear.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I’ve developed a slight headache is all, and it makes the task of my remaining letters all the more daunting.”

“I can imagine. I wish you would take a day off sometime soon, so that you may rest for longer than a few hours at a stretch. I believe it would do you wonders. Winter is generally a time for peaceful contemplation, but it’s been a frenzy of activity for you these past months. You are overdue for some leisure, my love.”

“You are right, as usual. Sometime very soon, dearest, I will take a week or two off and we will spend all the leisurely hours together you could wish. Perhaps we’ll even have a romp outside in the snow. Within the next month, once this mess is more or less cleaned up. Would that suit you?”

“It would suit me very fine indeed. While you could never be accused of neglecting me, I have been missing my husband of late, most especially his smile. That has been the most absent part of you.”

“For that I am sorry. I don’t like to bring my business affairs into our life together. My lovely, patient wife. You are too good to me.

“Well and I could say the same of you, so there. Enough of that. Come kiss me again, then go to your work before you fall asleep standing up.”

“As you command.” He was truly in danger of this, as he felt his lids growing heavier all the time, so he forced himself to move away from the pleasant heat, going to her side and kissing her fully this time, savoring her sweet lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Away I go. See you soon, darling.”

 Mr. Darcy could not rid himself of the clinging fatigue for the rest of the evening. His remaining letters took longer than usual, and he knew they were not as well done as they ought to be, but at least they were done. When they were finished, he tossed his pen aside eagerly and stretched his stiff neck. Perhaps he should take those leisure days sooner rather than later. He really hadn’t been feeling his best lately, and the wintery weather that had had them in its grasp for weeks certainly wasn’t helping. Also, he missed his wife, though he had just seen her. He missed spending time with her, and not just in stolen hours here and there. 

Right now all he wanted was to curl up beside her in bed, and talk of sweet nothings, and perhaps make sweet love. Hopefully that would help shake this irritating headache. Yes, they were long overdue for quality time spent together. He would make arrangements for some time away immediately, hopefully as early as a fortnight from now. The thought immediately made him calmer as he finished up a few small things, then hurried to find her and begin the more pleasant part of the evening.

2.

“Heh-KERRR-CHOOOOO! Heh- heh- KITSHHH’CHOOOO”

A bellowing sneeze startled Elizabeth from her book the next morning, and the even louder one that followed caused her to go investigate it’s source. To her surprise, following the sound of the miserable sniffles led to her husband’s study, where she found him ineffectually wiping his dripping nose with an already-damp handkerchief. 

“My dear Mr. Darcy, is that you making all that racket? My heavens, bless you! I don’t know as I’ve ever heard a sneeze so resounding in all my life. Were you holding it in all morning for it to grow to such a volume?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffled sourly. “It was merely a sneeze.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused. “I would beg to argue. You sneeze particularly violently, my dear. Likely because, as I noted, you hold them in until you can’t anymore.”

“Well, since you are evidently the expert,” he muttered as he pressed on with his work, coughing softly. 

She rarely saw this severe, prickly side of him these days, and this, more than anything else, concerned her and made her know he shouldn’t be teased at present. He really must be feeling poorly. She moved to his side and pressed against him as she had the day before, rubbing his shoulder. He did not respond, physically or otherwise.

“You are unwell, my love. You should go take some rest. You quite look as if you have gotten the wrong end of this cold of a sudden.”

“I am fine. Don’t worry yourself. I am only in need of some tea and I shall be quite well.”

“I’d be happy to fetch you tea, but I’d be happier to fetch it for you in bed, or at least in your chair in the library. I fear these large windows will do you no favors with the draft.”

“I have many things I need to see to today. I cannot take time to rest. And all my files are here in the study. I haven’t been ill since I was a boy. I’m certainly not going to be ill now.”

Lizzie sighed and shook her head at the foolishness of males. “Have it your way, then. I’ll see you get some tea. Was there anything else you’d like?”

“Just a scone or two. Thank you, dearest.” He finally turned his gaze to her, and she saw true gratitude there, despite the reddened, watery eyes and dripping nose. “And forgive my rudeness when you came in. You startled me, but I should not speak to you like that. Please forgive me.”

“Of course you’re forgiven, and I am sorry I startled you. You know I only worry about you because I love you.”

“As I love you, my Lizzie.” He coughed wetly into his handkerchief. “Now please, if you’d leave me. I really do have much to do, and you are ever my truest distraction. I will see you this evening. And please know, I am doing all this so that we can have our time together very soon.”

“Yes, my dear.” She sighed softly and made her way out, stopping one of the servants to request her husband’s tea and scones. She gave explicit instructions for the type of tea and what was to be in it, things to soothe an aching throat and ward off fever. If he wouldn’t have a care for his own body, she would be forced to do it for him. She only hoped he would see reason sooner than later and take himself off to bed before he caught his death in that drafty study.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, Darcy was endlessly studious and conscientious, not to mention stubborn, and so he stayed in his study, or was running around with different servants and community members all day. He did his best to conduct his business as excellently as ever, despite how very unwell he was beginning to feel.

When their paths would cross later in the day though, she could see he was flagging. His cough had become quite the nuisance, and his nose and lips were raw and chapped. Dark circles began to show under his eyes, vivid against sickly pallor. Every now and again, she heard a massive, wet sneeze disturb the air from wherever he was. She gave him sympathetic smiles and little encouragements whenever she could, but what she truly wanted was to see him to bed and tend to his every need there. The misery on his face made her ache for him. If only he wasn’t so proud. And yes, stubborn.

She was quite relieved when he joined her at their evening meal, wearily announcing he was done working for the day, and she told him such. He was quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the evening, aside from his frequent sniffles and coughs, and the occasional explosive sneeze, which never failed to make her jump, even as they became more and more frequent. 

Taking his lead, she also said very little, reading exhaustion in every line of his frame, especially as his sneezes and coughs harshened. If she had been another woman, and he another man (indeed, her parents came to mind), she would have said again that she wished he would take the day off tomorrow. But it was not in her to nag, and if she had he would only have become angry, or withdrawn completely. She had said her part this morning, and she knew he had heard her and remembered. What he did from here was his choice alone. 

She watched him unobtrusively as he dozed by the fire that evening, feeling such love in her breast for her dedicated, hardworking husband, but no small amount of worry either. They had been married nearly three years, and she had never once seen him ill. She hoped it was truly only trifling, as he kept insisting it was whenever anyone asked. 

They went to bed earlier than usual, her feigning equal tiredness for his sake, so he wouldn’t feel he was being a burden. But indeed, all she wanted of the rest of this day was to lie beside him in bed, perhaps rub his back, and just be near him for whatever he needed. To her delight, that is exactly what happened. He said very little, and asked for nothing, stifling sneezes now and again even as his frequent, chesty coughing fits worsened, but merely lay beside her and let her rub away at his aches and chills as he fell asleep.

3.

Darcy and Eliza were both early risers, and both loved to greet the day while it was still fresh and full of promise. Being the man though, Mr. Darcy was always up and about before his wife, for it took him far less time to dress, and there were several things he liked to see to before breakfast, though he never neglected to kiss her goodbye as he left.

Imagine her surprise then, when the next morning found him still soundly asleep beside her when her maids came in to help her dress at their usual time. The sound of their arrival woke her, but her poor husband hardly stirred. She hurried out of bed, calming the poor, startled ladies in hushed tones, assuring them they had done no wrong. They helped her dress and fix her hair simply and comfortably before Elizabeth shooed them out again, saying she wasn’t sure what they should tell the other staff, as she had no idea what mind her husband would be in when he finally woke. 

Lizzie sighed as they left. Now it would be all over the house that he was sick abed, and who knew what other irrepressible rumors. He would hate that. However, at present it was the truth so he would just have to deal with it whenever he woke. In the meantime, she picked up her book and read in the chair by the fire, wanting to be close when he woke.

That turned out to be shortly thereafter. He first began to toss and turn a bit, then he started to cough, then he nearly made her jump out of her chair with one of his tremendous sneezes. 

“Heh -KER- CHUUUUHHF!” The noise was thick and miserable-sounding, more than hinting at painfully clogged sinuses and a raw, scratchy throat. While he was mopping the mess from his face with his handkerchief, his lungs decided to take their turn at clearing themselves as well, and he erupted into a series of wet, strenuous coughs. 

She made her way to his side during this sad display, gently stroking his tousled hair as he quieted. He groaned softly when he was able and pressed into her embrace, still holding the handkerchief to his nose, eliciting a cluck of sympathy from his wife at his sorry state.

“My poor dear,” she murmured. “Your health is much worse this morning.”

“Mby head is like a lead weight od the pillow,” he croaked. “Fatigue weighs dowd mby limbs dreadfully.”

“Then you will not work today?”

“Mby wise wife advised that I look after mby body more, and today mby body tells mbe I must rest, so rest I shall,” he murmured sleepily. “As long as you’ll keeb mbe company?”

“I would love nothing more. This is perhaps not the leisurely day we had hoped for, but I’ll accept it just the same." She tenderly caressed his cheek, frowning as she felt it. "You are terribly feverish, darling." Yet she hardly needed to feel, for just by looking at his flushed, sweaty face and seeing him shake with chills, the fever made its presence known.

"And yet I'mb chilled to the bone. I had forgotten how beastly udpleasant it is to catch cold," he rasped with a thick sniffle.

"Indeed, it makes one feel for your poor sister all the more. It seems she is laid up with a cold every other week. Now, how does tea appeal to you? And perhaps some food? You hardly touched supper last night."

"Tea would be lovely. Mby abbetite still eludes me however. But, if only to please you, I would try sumb toast and an egg."

Lizzie had servants running for his requests in short order while Darcy tended to his nose, blowing it over and over, soaking through more than one handkerchief. His tray was delivered in record time. Seeing it arrive, Darcy slowly levered himself to a sitting position, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Mby head is throbbi'g," he mumbled.

Elizabeth pressed the cup of tea into his hands, looking sympathetic. "Drink some. It may help your head."

He did as he was bid, drawing his knees to his chest like a boy as he drank while she rubbed his back. However, another tremendous sneeze almost made him spill the whole thing. 

“Ah- ah- KITCHSHOOOOO! Ugh…” He sought his handkerchief desperately, and when Elizabeth handed it to him, he pressed it harshly against his streaming nose to stem the flow, groaning as he did. Elizabeth hastily took the teacup from his again, for it seemed in danger of being upended at any moment.

"Bless you! My poor dear, what can I do for you? Besides keeping a stack of handkerchiefs here for your poor nose."

"I would ask you to help mbe dress in a few moments," he said, his voice muffled behind the fabric as he tried to rub away the headache between his eyes. "While I will be as quick as I cad, I must speak to mby steward and give hib sumb idstructions for mby absence."

"Can you not write him instead? I fear for you going out in the cold, lest this settles in your chest."

"Mby head aches too miserably to do a probber job with writing. I fear I would forget somethi'g crucial. Ndo, I'll quickly  go dowd and speak to hib, and thed I'll return. Ndo going outside for mbe today, never fear."

She sighed and nodded, knowing he would not be dissuaded. "At least finish your tea and try some egg before you go so you don't collapse on the stairs."

"I'mb far from collapse mby dear, I assure you." His general appearance said otherwise though, as he had been miserably coughing into his handkerchief throughout the whole conversation, and had yet to stop shivering. However, she held her tongue and served him breakfast instead. 

Lizzie saw he made an effort to eat as much as he could, and though it was only a few bites, she was slightly placated. She knew he would not relax until he had set what affairs he could in order. So, after his tea was gone, when he rose and began to dress, she assisted him, for she realized the sooner he left, the sooner he would return.

"I'd rather not ri'g for mby valet, as I'd be worried I would sdeeze on hib," muttered Darcy, looking embarrassed as she straightened his jacket while he futilely tried to blow his nose, which only served to make him cough yet again.

"It's no trouble at all, dear. Only please hurry back. I truly worry for that cough." 

"I'll be back under your watchful eye as quick as I cad, dearest," he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips as she slipped an extra handkerchief in his pocket. With that, he was gone, his boots thumping down the hall wearily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time dragged as she waited for him. While she knew he could take care of himself and she didn't need to be here the moment he returned, she also knew he would want her to be. Her husband was a strong man, but at times like these, he depended on her, and she was not about to disappoint him. So, while there were plenty of things she could have seen to around the manor herself, she waited in his sitting room with her needlework, keeping the fire high. 

Finally she heard him in the hall. She rushed to open the door as he shuffled in, looking spent. 

 "Darcy dear! I expected you an hour ago!"  she said, helping him shed his coat. Suddenly she felt his shoulders hitch under her hands as his breath scissored:

"Ktt-tsshhEEW!" The wet spraying sneeze was his response, only partially stifled by the sodden handkerchief he held. She blessed him worriedly as he again mopped his face.

"I'mb sorry, dearest," he finally managed. "I was stobbed many tibes between mby study and here to answer questions. I cabe as quick as I could."

He fell wearily into the chair nearest the fire with a deep groan and a deeper cough. He bent to try and remove his boots, but his efforts were hampered, as his nose streamed dreadfully if he bent over. He had to keep a hand pressed to his face as he tried to undo the fastenings with the other. 

Elizabeth knelt in front of him and gently pushed his hands away, loosening and removing the boots herself as he leaned back in the chair, sniffling wetly. 

"Thagk you, mby love," he croaked. 

"Here, have some more tea, I've just had Mary bring some. There, now what suits you best? Shall we cover you warmly and sit here by the fire, or would you like me to fetch you some soup? I won't ask if you want to call for Dr. Bishop yet since I know what you'll say, though I have half a mind to."

"There's ndo need for the doctor," replied her husband. "Whad I most want right now is to lie dowd and sleeb sumb few hours yed. Mby mind is sluggish. I cad hardly grasp on a thought except how exhausted I amb."

"Then take my arm and let's get you to bed, poor man. I imagine some more sleep will do wonders for you."

"I don't need help walki'g mby dear, I'm not invalid, only full of cold." Even still, he took her proffered arm as he stood and rested a hand on her shoulder warmly as she led him to the bedroom.

"That may be, but I'll see you there myself just the same to make sure there's no distractions along the way." She kissed his hand and caressed it fondly as they made their way to the bed. She helped him remove all the clothes she had helped him don not long before and replace them with his nightshirt. While he clearly needed to sleep, he also seemed loath to let her out of his sight. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment with her pressed against his side. She scratched his back fondly. 

“You should lie down, dear. You’re more asleep than awake.”

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her unexpectedly, burying his face in her abdomen with a weary sigh. Elizabeth was slightly startled, but gladly reciprocated the embrace, burying her face in his hair. Her husband was an affectionate man, but not usually physically so. This gesture from him, while not at all unwelcome, was unexpected. 

“I feel terrible,” he groaned, barely audible, leaning most of his weight against her. “Mby body runs amok with mbe.”

“So it seems. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t wish this cold of yours on anyone.”  

She held him for a few peaceful moments. Just as she was about to again suggest he lie down, for it seemed he was in danger of falling asleep against her, his back twitched violently and he tried to pull away.

“heh-GIHH’CHOOOO! Hehht-kk’CHOOOOOF!” 

Neither had time to react as poor Mr. Darcy sneezed thickly, his face still pressed against his startled wife. She couldn't suppress a little gasp as he pulled away, stammering apologies and wiping his traitorous nose. 

She was silent a moment appraising the state of her dress, then an unladylike snort of laughter escaped her, sending her into a little fit of giggles even as she comforted her overwrought husband, pressing him gently back against the pillows. 

“It’s all right, my love. Such things happen. ‘Tis only a dress, and I have plenty more. It seems neither of us are coming away from this cold of yours unscathed. But there now, you’re completely spent. You can hardly keep your eyes open, red as they are. Take some more rest, my love.”

“You’re too good to mbe,” he croaked, fighting against his heavy eyelids but already nearly asleep, the handkerchief still in his limp hand on the bed.

She reached out, caressing his face and brushing hair from his brow. “No more of that. Close your eyes and sleep, for how else do you expect to get better?” She clucked her tongue softly again. “You really are painfully warm, poor man. It is most worrisome,” she said, more to herself than him.

“I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, the last word turning into a snore as he finally gave in to the needs of his body.

~~~~~~~~~~

4.

That was to be the last interaction Mr. Darcy would remember for quite some time. He fell into a deep sleep then, and everything that happened over the next few days would be blurred flashes in his mind at best, hazed by illness and fever.

Of course, the same could not be said for Elizabeth. After he fell asleep, she left him and tended to some of her duties around the manor (after changing her gown, naturally). She did not want to hover in the sickroom, both for her sake and his, so she forced herself to stay away for several hours, knowing he would ring if he needed something.

Still, in the late afternoon she returned, unable to stay away any longer. He was exactly as she had left him, snoring softly. He didn’t seem to have moved at all in his sleep, which was most unlike him. She again went to feel his forehead, sensing something amiss. He was much warmer than before. A knot of worry pulsing in her heart, she tried to shake him awake. He opened his eyes and seemed to look at her, but she could tell he wasn’t truly awake, and didn’t respond when she spoke to him, only grunted and coughed, trying to roll over and sleep again. 

Without further ado, she sent for Doctor Bishop, pacing the halls outside Darcy’s rooms until he arrived, wringing her hands in worry and opening the door to check on her husband every few minutes, to ensure he got no worse.  

The doctor arrived quickly, heading right into the sickroom. He did a thorough examination, listening to Mr. Darcy’s heart and lungs, checking his pulse and 100 other things. Darcy woke briefly a few times, but only managed answers of a word or less before he dozed off again. His large frame looked somehow both bigger and smaller than it should, curled up limply on the bed, with only his breathing as evidence of life. After he was through, the wise doctor scrutinized his patient, deep in thought. Elizabeth remained silent, waiting with baited breath. Finally the doctor turned to her. 

“You said he’s been overworking himself and run down lately, yes?”

“Yes, doctor. Business has been troubling him of late.”

“Hm. So it seems. Well, overall his vital signs are normal for a man with a cold. I see nothing overly alarming, excepting the high fever. That is a touch worrisome, but can at times be seen in such cases. No, I don’t fear any illness has befallen him except what you’ve said, a bad cold. I think he’s simply exhausted, and this cold has caught up with him and brought everything down at once. I’ll wager the fever will subside in a day or two, and the rest in the days after that as long as he gets the rest he sorely needs. I shan’t prescribe him anything except what he already has here with you, Mrs. Darcy. Let him sleep as much as he wants, keep him hydrated and don’t cover him too warmly, and I think this will run its course soon enough.”

It was as if great weight fell off her shoulders as he spoke. “Oh, thank you doctor! Indeed, I shall do just as you say, and make sure he does as well.”

“Please do. The stubbornness of the Darcys is well known to me, for my father and his father have been treating this family for generations. I’ll come round to see him every day until I’m satisfied he’s on the mend, if that suits you.”

“Oh, yes please, and thank you kindly. You have my deepest gratitude, sir.”

“My pleasure, madame. Until tomorrow.” He tipped his hat and was gone.

With a huge sigh of relief, Elizabeth collapsed on the chair at her husband’s bedside. After a moment, she found his hand under the quilt and held it, needing to feel his touch, even if in unconsciousness. After a moment, he unexpectedly squeezed it. She looked up to see his eyes were fluttering closed, but his face was angled toward her now. She took a moment to appreciate that fine face, though currently his nose, cheeks, and eyes were matching shades of red against the sickly pallor over the rest of him.

She sighed and softly kissed his hand. “Get well soon, my dear.”

He certainly took his time doing so, or so it seemed to Eliza. Either she or Georgiana were at his side at all times. He slept constantly, barely waking even to drink water. He spoke hardly at all and asked for nothing. He would intermittently shake with chills, or else sweat profusely. He sneezed in thick, messy fits, several at a time, but then would go hours between, until the sensation again overpowered and woke him. He coughed more often, since that it seemed he could do even as he slept. 

Yes, he slept, but he was overall restless. Noise in the room roused him. He stirred when he was touched. He stirred when he coughed. He woke when he sneezed. His sleep didn’t seem peaceful, which was perhaps why he never fully woke, because he wasn’t fully resting. 

The first night, Elizabeth slept in her own rarely-used bedroom (she much preferred sharing his), wanting him (and herself) to rest as much as possible. The second night though, she was achingly lonely, missing his touch, his voice, and his smile. So, she crawled into her usual place beside him in his bed, pressing herself against him. She found herself cold, as she had been since he was ill from the worry, so his warmth was more than pleasant. 

She herself relaxed immediately as soon as she was against him, but more surprisingly, so did he. He didn’t wake and hardly stirred when he felt her, but his breathing quickly deepened and he relaxed more fully as they rested against each other. Basking in the sensation of enjoying one another’s touch, they both slept the whole night that way. 

~~~~~~~~~~

More than 48 hours after he first fell asleep, Darcy finally woke up completely. Naturally, it was a sneeze that did it. 

“Heh’gihh’CHUUUHFF! AHHGK-CHOOOF! … ow….”

Something in the tone made Lizzie turn. She had been sitting facing the fire with her needlework, but glancing at the bed, she saw her husband sitting up, one hand to his temple, the other wiping his nose, and looking aware of his surroundings for the first time in 2 days. She dashed to his side, feeling his forehead at once.

“Bless you, dear. My, but it’s good to see you awake! Oh, and your fever is much decreased, how wonderful! How do you feel? Is your head hurting you? Here, drink some water, the doctor said you’re likely dehydrated…”

She wanted to prattle on, but she saw he was a bit overwhelmed, so she forced her tongue to be still. She gently grasped his hands, to calm him as well as herself, and kissed them fondly. She then handed him a glass of water, and he drank gratefully as she looked him over. He seemed a bit better, but he continued to look around in a dazed way.”

“Have I been asleeb long?” he finally rasped, his voice totally gone, and still stuffed tight with congestion.

“I would say so. It’s been two days darling.” She did her best to keep the worry and accusation out of her voice. He couldn’t help that he’d been ill.”

“Two days?! Good heavens.” He fell back against the pillows with a groan and a cough. “Ndo wonder I feel so sluggish.”

“Yes, but it seems you needed it. The doctor has been out every day, and he says you were suffering from exhaustion. Your body was taking the rest it sorely needed.”

“So it seebs.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Sumb better, I thingk,” he said with a wet sniffle. “Less fevered. I am still weary, and will sleep another night soundly through, but I hope I’m on the mend now.”

“As do I.” She kissed his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~

5.

Mr. Darcy was indeed on the mend. He was moving about his rooms freely the next day, and 2 days after that, he was allowed by the doctor (and his wife, grudgingly) to resume his duties, though at a reduced basis, for his cough still lingered, along with some fatigue. Yet he was incredibly cheerful to be leaving his rooms, and everywhere he went, he had a spring in his step.

That same day he was freed found Elizabeth curled on the settee in her rarely-used personal sitting room, wrapped in a coverlet and trying to read. However, her dripping nose and throbbing headache prevented her from making much progress in the story. 

A barking cough burst out of her against her will, making her drop her book. With a feeble groan, she reached down to retrieve it, holding a handkerchief to her streaming nose. She had known she likely wouldn’t escape catching her husband’s cold, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. However, she was not about to spoil his first day of freedom with her own illness, so she was hiding here to avoid him as long as she could.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard his boots in the hall, and she suppressed another groan. He knocked softly, then peeked in the door, looking happy as well as confused when he saw her.

“Mary said I might find you here, but I thought she must be mistaken. Whatever are you doing? I was hoping to meet you for tea.”

She took a breath to answer, but instead the urge to sneeze snuck up on her. She shoved her elbow against her face, turning away from him to stifle the stubborn urge harshly:

“HXXT’GH! HNNKT! HXXTCH! Guh…” she mumbled at the end, which turned into a painful cough that she hardly had breath for.

Darcy was at her side in a moment, kneeling by her arm and feeling her forehead just as she had his so many times the past few days. Concern and regret crossed his face. “You have a fever, dearest. It seems I’ve shared my cold with you,” he said, stifling a little cough.

“You always were the gentleman, never failing to share with a lady,” she groused weakly.

His low chuckle was warm. “I’m truly sorry. Yet I heard you hardly left the bedchamber while I was ill, so I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Especially since you sneezed on me,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.

“Indeed,” he chuckled again. “I’m sorry for that as well. But now, enough talk. Rest your voice. Come up to bed and I’ll see you get some tea and toast.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to go to bed, did that occur to you? I’ve spent all week in that bedchamber and I’d prefer to not be forced to go back,” she muttered petulantly. 

“I can tell you’re feeling unwell, for you’re never so irritable. That more than anything tells me I must see you to bed immediately.” His tone indicated some teasing, but mostly seriousness. Without further ado, he scooped her up in one motion and stood, carrying her toward their bedchamber, a little smile playing around his lips. 

“Why you--! I’ve never been thus treated in my entire life. Put me down, you terrible man!” Yet she couldn’t keep from laughing, miserable though she was, which of course turned into a cough. She hadn’t felt so ill in a long time. In fact, the overwhelming urge to sneeze was coming over her again. She struggled weakly to free her arms from where he had them pinned, but it was too late: 

“Hhh’rrrrushh’eeeew! Herrr’CHEW! Hihhh’knn’CHOOF!” She sneezed explosively against his chest, covering them both in the spray. His steps paused as he looked down at her, open-mouthed, while she stared back, reddening in embarrassment, but slightly triumphant.

“...bless you, my Lizzie,” Darcy finally said, an odd smile on his face.

“Thank you. I’m terribly sorry!... But what choice did I have, when I can’t move my arms? Now we’re even, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled again as he resumed walking. “And I suppose if you must sneeze on someone, it’s best if it’s me, as I can’t very well catch this cold again. But all the more reason for me to see you to bed. You look a mess. In the loveliest possible way, of course.”

“How charming you are, Mr. Darcy. You have quite a way of flattering a woman.”

He chuckled again, but by this time they had reached his bedchamber. He deposited her on the bed with the utmost gentleness, and proceeded to assist her in changing into more comfortable clothes. She shivered miserably as she changed so that her teeth nearly chattered. Darcy tucked her in warmly and quickly rang for some tea, then began to remove his own boots and coat. She watched him curiously, though with heavy eyes, for she suddenly she found herself exhausted. With pleasure she realized he planned to join her in bed. 

He did just that a few moments later, pulling her close against himself and wrapping her in his big, warm arms. She nuzzled in gratefully with a sniffle and a cough. He buried his face in her hair as they settled, coughing as well. 

“What are you doing, Darcy dear? I thought you had many things to do today,” she mumbled, already nearing sleep. “You’ve had so many days off yourself. You needn’t take another for me, though it seems we’re quite a mess still.”

“This has become the most important thing I must do today,” he yawned. “You were a saint to look after me this whole week, so now I must return the favor. I’m not likely to let an opportunity pass to spend time with you after these past weeks, for I’ve learned my lesson.  And I too am already weary, for this cold hasn’t quite left me. A nap would suit me fine, especially if I can warm you in the process.” 

When a servant arrived with tea, no one greeted him, and when he opened the door with the tray, he found it best to simply leave it nearby and duck out again, for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were fast asleep. 

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

so! couple of months back, me and family went on holiday to a self-catering cottage in the backcountry, and when we weren’t having a grand old time getting lost in the wilderness i spent my free time, not writing for this blog, but watching random youtube videos. somehow this led me to watching a lot of six the musical animatics. i dunno, i’ve always liked horrible-histories-esque modern retellings of history, and i was reading a historical fiction series about the six wives of henry viii anyway

trouble is, this stupid blog has been keeping the silm muses much more active than they otherwise would be, and that was even more true when i was trying to churn out a new headcanon every day. i got interested enough in six to start looking up fanfiction, and i guess the settings were similar enough the muses started talking to each other? and then i remembered that ‘seven brides for seven brothers but it’s the fëanorians’ post, and then i thought that even those hellspawn would probably still make better husbands than henry, and then my brain worms started matching them up

so yeah, that’s how this list of which son(s) of fëanor i’d pair off with each wife of henry viii as portrayed by six the musical came into existence (and specifically as portrayed by six the musical, even if they’ve been dead for half a millenium trying to pair up actual humans who actually existed with my goofball interpretations of someone else’s ocs feels skeevy, and also like it would require way more work than this list deserves.) there’s actually an au growing in my head to support a context in which these couples could happen, auuugggghhhh. anyway, i’m sorry

catalina: caranthir. admittedly this was the last one i came up with, there’s a bit of pair-the-spares going on here, but i do feel like they’d have a very functional dynamic. given how temperamental they both are they argue less than one might expect; they’re good at setting and negotiating boundaries, and while they snark at each other constantly whenever they have business to take care of they go in as a Team. catalina also feels like she’d absolutely refuse to tolerate hellbeast bullshit, so naturally i’ve stuck her with the most down-to-earth of the bunch. they’re not the loudest, but they’ll build a solid place to return to when shit starts exploding

anne: curufin. she is a tiny bundle of playfulness and cheek and pure blazing ambition, and i think curvo would vibe with that. they would scheme together, they��d go into every social engagement with a plan and try to manipulate everyone around them, with mixed results. they’d definitely get up to, if not the most shenanigans, the shenanigans with the most collateral damage, and i feel like their skillsets would complement each other in a way that would nicely maximise that damage potential. whatever their big project as a couple turns out as, it’ll rapidly escalate into Anne and Curufin Burn Down Valinor. or early modern england. or both!

jane: maglor. okay this isn’t just me putting the woman who wants a big family with the habitual child thief (though i will admit, there is some nice synergy there.) it’s more that they’re both survivors, in a way, they both have this resolve deep down that could weather anything the world threw at them. i feel like they’d be one of the quieter couples in this set? sneaking out of court parties to wander the gardens and laugh at each other’s terrible jokes. they’d skirt around the edge of things together, softly enough so as not to be noticed, watching the world go by. and if it came to that, i think she’d wait for him

anna: celegorm. look the essence of anna of kleve is living in a gigantic palace doing whatever the hell she wants and not giving the slightest fuck what anyone thinks of her, and i feel like celegorm would be amenable to that. they don’t actually spend that much time together, he’s off in the woods and she’s chilling in her big fancy house, but when they do meet there’s always winks and finger guns. speaking of guns, their most common Couple Activity™ is going hunting, but you’ll also find them trading stories about the nonsense their social circles get up to over booze. they don’t usually show up for ~events at the same time, but when they do, they cut a swathe across the hall so efficiently you’d think they’d planned it in advance

kitty: ambarussa. this isn’t even a romantic thing, i just want them to be friends. i want her to go on adventures and have fun and be happy and not have to worry about guys at all, you know? they’d be the ‘two dumbasses and an enabler’ kind of terrible trio, i think, the twins getting up to the stupidest shit and her cackling in the background. absolute terrors, cause so much trouble, and they always try to dodge the consequences to varying degrees of success. and then they all head off home, promising to see each other the next morning and make even more mischief tomorrow

cathy: maedhros. i picture them having these long elaborate discussions about philosophy and ethics and religion and the differences between their worlds and all kinds of other things, these fascinating debates that go on until one of them notices it’s 3am. their interests don’t overlap 100%, but they have this shared fondness for big Projects that they always end up supporting each other in. you don’t see them talking much in their formal public appearances, but in private or when they’re just hanging out they’ll banter back and forth with the kind of carefree ease that comes from how comfortable they are with each other. she’s significantly more low-key than he is, but when push comes to shove she is just as intensely opinionated and willing to defend her ideas. should the time come, she would stand up to him like nobody else could

[sunnysviolin]

currently having so many thoughts about aubrey getting sick of her moms mess one day and packing her bunny into her carrier and just leaving... she drifts about friends houses for a while before basil braves up to ask if she's okay :(( she's all out of energy + too stubborn to go home so she doesn't bother arguing and lets him take her to see polly (sorry me again with aubrey ramblings pls tell me to shush if you dont vibe w it)

Wow....I love this so much so I’m gonna combine it with that ask I got the other day and noodle on this a bit. Hope you don’t mind me taking your idea and running nonnie!!!

This got really long and kind of intense, so I’m putting it under a Read More. There’s also gonna be way more ahead!! This AU has caught me. But y’all Serious warning for emotional child abuse and neglect. Aubrey’s mother is decidedly not a good person, and their relationship is very damaged. Read only if you know you mentally can handle it, and no shame in skipping this. This part of it is heavy.  TW: Child abuse and neglect. TW: Alcoholism TW: Running Away TW: Homelessness

In the end it’s the rain that does it. The rain, the drafts in their weary old house, and the bucket that sits in the corner of her room next to her half broken laundry basket

On the last night Aubrey spends in her mother’s house the rain is coming down in freezing icy sheets. It’s bitterly cold, and she is weary. 

The summer of her 16th year has come and gone, and they are firm into the grip of September. It was a summer that had changed everything in her life. A summer where she found her way back to her chosen family, while becoming more isolated than ever from her real family. She had spent almost every hour out of the house- riding scooters with her gang, reconnecting with Basil, finding her way back into Kel’s loyal heart, letting her walls down around Hero, even discovering a hidden strength within her to forgive Sunny.  

It was the best summer of her life, even beating out the perfect summers spent in her childhood with Mari. In those days Aubrey had been naive. She didn’t know what she had, she just assumed she would always have it. This summer she had seen every experience for what it was- a gift. 

Fall coming had been difficult. Really almost nothing had changed, except it had. 

Hero had gone back to college, promising to visit at every chance he could. Aubrey had pushed down the spike of jaded denial that had risen up inside her at his words, and put her arm around Kel who was misty eyed saying goodbye to his brother. 

Sunny had spent most days in Faraway at either Kel or Basil’s house over the summer, but now he only came on weekends. He had started school again, a new school where no one knew his name or his face. He didn’t say much about it, but he hadn’t stopped going yet, so Aubrey considered it progress.

Kel and Basil had stuck close to her, and she was thankful for it. Aubrey knew now that nothing would ever separate the five of them again, but there was still the irrational fear inside of her that they would all leave her sooner or later. Her gang must’ve seen something too, because they had been awkwardly affectionate in a way that both irritated and comforted her.

But her mother....

Her mother had changed too. 

By sixteen Aubrey knew her mothers rhythms like the back of her hand. She knew the cycles that played out. Her mother would circle through various moods- cleaning, ignoring, depressing, drinking, regretting, promising, and then cleaning again. 

The regularity of it all had numbed her to the terrible conditions of her childhood home, and Aubrey spent most of her time out of the house anyway. (She had never been so grateful for nine hours at school, four hours after school goofing off in a big group, and the usual invitation to dinner with Polly or Kel’s mother. Aubrey usually only went home to sleep these days)

But her mother had added and taken away from her cycle. There was a new cycle now, and it was impossible to deal with. 

Ignoring, Depressing, Drinking, Angry, Regretting. Rinse and Repeat. 

Angry was new. Angry was (terrifying)....Angry was new. 

Aubrey had never tried to disrupt her mother’s cycle before, but Angry was enough to get her to try. She would clean the house top to bottom, putting in an effort she had never put in before to make things nice. She had thrown away bottles, cleaned dishes, cooked food, on and on all in an effort to change what she knew was coming. It still came. Her mother still wailed like a banshee, shrieking and hollering loud enough neighbors had called. 

The calls were the worst part. The low humiliation that sat in her stomach as she assured these people who didn’t really care that everything was fine, all while her mother continued to scream in the background. 

With Angry, Regretting was also different too. Aubrey, never one to take things lying down, screamed back until angry tears burst from her eyes. She would break down and sob in front of her mother, her walls finally ripped apart brick by brick by the woman who was supposed to love her most. 

Then her mom would hold her tight and promise things would be different. Regretting had mixed with Promising, and as much as Aubrey wanted to shove away the confusing affection, she couldn’t bring herself to. 

Screaming at each other was the only time that Aubrey’s mother looked at her. Curled in her mother’s arms weeping was the only time that her mother had a kind word. Aubrey couldn’t resist what she always craved, and some sick twisted part of her even longed for the point where her mother would snap and start yelling, just because she knew the release of emotions was soon to follow. 

That last night in her house was one of those nights. Her mother was yelling, too incoherent for Aubrey to even make out the words, but the tone said everything. Her mother had lost it over the dishes in the sink piling up. Aubrey had done them this morning, yet somehow she came home to a sink full of chipped dirty dishes. Those dishes felt like an ironic symbol of her life. No matter how many times she wiped it away. The dishes would be dirty the second she turned around. 

Aubrey was already in tears, her fists bunched at her sides and her teeth grinding down against each other. Soon enough it would be time for her to start yelling back, and the cycle would go on and on and on. The dishes would never be clean. 

Aubrey didn’t want it to go on. Not even her mother holding her was worth how torn apart her heart was becoming. She fled upstairs, slamming the door to attic and locking it tight. It didn’t matter anyway. By this point of drinking, her mother could barely stand, let alone climb a ladder. 

The rain was slamming against her windows, a steady drip already starting in the bucket in her room. It was freezing cold, and goosebumps rose on her bare arms. Maribelle was sitting in her pen, her nose twitching as she watched her Aubrey. Aubrey brushed at her damp cheeks and picked her bunny up, snuggling the tiny white creature close to her chest. 

Maribelle was too cold. Her mother hadn’t paid the heating bill again. The rain was too loud, and the wind sneaking in wrapped Aubrey in a tight grip. Aubrey sat on the edge of the bed and rocked her bun, trying in vain to warm them both up. A single thought ran through her head over and over

This wasn’t worth it. This wasn’t worth the love she craved from a woman who couldn’t give it. This wasn’t worth her pride at keeping things together. This wasn’t worth trying to fix over and over with no results. 

The rain began to slow to a quieter drizzle. Her mother was silent below. In the cold wet of her tiny attic room, Aubrey decided. 

No. This really just...wasn’t worth it. 

Aubrey slipped onto her knees, keeping Maribelle close as she pulled her backpack towards her and began to empty it out. She kept only her English textbook and her history notes. Everything else she could get a spare of. in her bag went two spare shirts and one pair of jeans. She packed in underwear and socks into the smaller front pouch. Aubrey stood and pulled the false bottom out of her desk drawer, taking the cash and the pack of cigarettes she had pinched off her mom and throwing them in as well. 

Finally there were the pictures. The frame of her photo of her and Kim had to be abandoned, but the actual picture was placed carefully inside her backpack. She had never been more happy to have her tiny carrier for Maribelle. The bunny happily hopped inside and burrowed deep in the soft downy blanket Aubrey put inside for her. 

It was depressingly easy to pack up her important things. Shockingly simple to write a note to her mother (I’m leaving. I’m not coming back. Two short sentences and that was it) It hadn’t even been hard to sneak out. After the hour or so it took to gather the rest of her necessities from the house and steal whatever money was in her mother’s purse, said woman had passed out on the couch in an alcoholic haze. 

Aubrey locked the door and stared at the silver key gleaming in her palm. She had only her backpack, a messenger bag, and her tiny bunny carrier. Her whole life fit into two bags. Aubrey left her key on the doorstep. 

She wouldn’t need it anymore. 

The rain had let up, but a harsh breeze whipped around her as she walked, pushing Aubrey to move faster. She took the sidewalks she had taken since she was little, letting her feet move as her mind went blank. Before she knew it she was standing on another street, one more familiar to her than her own. 

Aubrey spared a long look at Kel’s hosue. The lights were on inside, bathing their front yard in a warm golden glow. She stared at it for a moment, considering, and then the chill became too great. 

Aubrey bypassed Kel’s house and quietly snuck into the backyard of Sunny’s old home. The elderly couple that owned the house now was sure to be asleep. Kel said that they were quiet and almost never noticed anything going on. Perfect. 

Aubrey knew exactly where she was going. It was still standing. Faded and beaten down, probably rickety too, but it would be safe for her and her Belle. 

Besides only four other people even knew this treehouse existed. No one would ever find her here. 

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

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Case 01338: Kix

They always say that medics make the worst patients, and it was doubly true in Kix's case. If he wasn't working in the medbay, all medical care was left to the droids, and their programming left a lot to be desired. At least the men had Kix to treat them. Kix had no organic to treat him if he was the one sick.

At the moment, he was fairly certain he wasn't sick. Sure, his head ached so badly that his stomach threatened to rebel and it hurt to move any part of his body, but that could be explained by any number of ailments. Maybe it had always hurt to swallow, breathe, and blink, and he just hadn't noticed.

On the off chance that he wasn't as well as he thought, Kix had been working to stave off any illness floating around the Resolute. He took in extra liquids and got as much sleep as possible. Since he practically lived in the medbay, sleep was a challenge, but he was trying.

Kix pulled his head up from the surface of his desk, groaning as he did so. The shift in position made his head throb worse than before, but that wasn't why he was cursing. When had he fallen asleep? He was less than halfway through the ever-present stack of medical forms taking up half of his desk, and with no troopers in the medbay, he needed to do as much work as possible before the next crisis hit.

"That didn't sound very rested," a voice remarked from closer than Kix was comfortable with.

He turned quickly, took a moment to huff out a breath and clutch at his head, and stared into Rex's amused eyes. "Captain. When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago. I watched you fall asleep on your forms."

"Did you need something, sir?" Kix asked, wincing. Why were the medbay lights so bright? "Is everything all right?"

"Actually, no," Rex told him. "I have a sick trooper who won't accept medical treatment."

"I'll set him straight," Kix promised grimly. "Who is it?"

"You, obviously," Rex said, the amusement on his face now tinged with concern. "Kix, you're dead on your feet."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Then you won't mind if we power up one of the medical droids to double-check that?"

Kix grimaced. "You want to use one of those shu-shuk machines? They have a success rate of-"

"-55%" Rex finished with him. "I know, Kix, you've told us all. But you're the only medic we've got, and you're clearly not going to treat yourself. The medical droids are the only option. Consider it an order."

"Sorry, sir," Kix reminded. "I have authority on all matters of health. Yours, the men's, and mine. I outrank you in this."

"In this," Rex echoed, frowning forebodingly. "Fifteen push-ups, soldier. That's an order that has nothing to do with medicine."

"Captain-"

"I'm serious, Kix. Fifteen push-ups and I'll drop the medical droid stuff."

"Get ready to lose, Captain," Kix said with a grin. Rex returned the expression, but there was worry on his face.

Five down. This is gonna be so easy…

Eight in and I feel fine. I knew I wasn't sick.

Okay, Kix. You need to spend a little more time in the gym. You shouldn't be this winded after eleven push-ups.

...Why is my face so cold?

"Welcome back," Rex said blandly as Kix tried to raise himself from where he had collapsed on the floor. His arms wouldn't support the weight and he rolled onto his back instead.

"How many did I get to?"

"Thirteen," Rex told him. "Not bad. I thought you would pass out by six or seven."

"I didn't pass out," Kix argued.

"Of course not. I know how much you love lying down with your face pressed against the medbay floor," Rex agreed dryly. "I took the opportunity to power up a med droid. Pick a bed."

Kix glared, but Rex unsympathetically propelled him toward a bed as soon as he was standing. Before he could voice any further complaints, Kix found himself on a bed being scanned by a med droid.

"CT-6116 is showing symptoms of an acute infection in both the sinuses and the upper respiratory tract. This has resulted in secondary symptoms as headache, difficulty breathing, dehydration, fatigue, dizziness, and muscle aches."

Kix glared at the medical droid, mostly to avoid the way Captain Rex was glaring at him. "So, with the typical droid success rate, we can safely rule out those two diagnoses."

"Karking hell, Kix!" Rex hissed in irritation. He took the scanner from the droid and rescanned Kix, passing over his body about four times too many. When he was finally done, he glanced at the screen. "Sinus infection and upper respiratory tract infection. Treat him."

The last bit was directed at the droid, who rummaged around in the med cabinet. Kix gritted his teeth as its rough-jointed metal hands knocked around, systematically destroying all of the organization he had managed in that small space.

"Why did you wait this long, Kix?" Rex asked sharply. "You're a medic. Surely, you've known for a while that you needed treatment."

"If a medic is currently undergoing treatment, he cannot continue to treat others," Kix explained reluctantly. "The risks of accidental malpractice are too high with the side effects of many medications."

Rex stared at him, dark brows furrowed. "The side effects are too much of a risk, but operating with a temperature that is well over standard isn't considered dangerous?"

"It is… or it probably should be," Kix admitted. "But it isn't written that way in the regs, so it isn't an explicit requirement."

Rex frowned even harder. "So… it's a loophole."

"Yes, exactly."

With a sigh, Rex scrubbed his hand over his close-cropped blond hair and collapsed onto Kix's well-worn chair, obviously pulled over from behind the medic's desk. "Do you realize the consequences of the choices you're making?"

Acutely uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had experienced this conversation from the other side far too many times to count - including with the captain himself - Kix shrugged. His answer didn't seem to be enough for the captain, who sat watching him for the (frankly ridiculous) length of time it took for the med droid to give him a dose of antibiotics and a cup of water.

"I know it may come as a surprise to you, but I do monitor the medbay logs," Rex finally said when the droid puttered off to fetch an antibiotic spray for Kix to inhale. "Do you know how much time you spend here?"

"I'm here every day, sir," Kix answered honestly, giving into the realization that Rex wasn't going to let it go.

"Yes, for three-quarters of the day. That gives you a collective five or six hours to shower, eat, and sleep. Judging from those push-ups, you don't spend any of that time training." Kix felt his face flush before he could stop it, but Rex wasn't done. "To put it another way, you've logged almost six-hundred hours in the medbay over the last standard month. That's a little over twenty-three full days out of thirty."

"When I'm not here, sir… men die. Brothers." Kix's voice cracked a little at the admission, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on Rex, refusing to look away. Caring for his brothers was not a weakness and he wasn't ashamed of it.

The harsh expression on Rex's face softened into something like understanding, but his famously steely resolve didn't fade. "I'm tired, Kix. I'm so tired of watching my men - my brothers - die. I'll be damned if I watch you work yourself to death trying to keep others alive. You have to take care of yourself so that you can keep everyone else safe as long as possible."

He sat back in the chair, running a hand over his jaw as he thought. "Your medic's proficiencies can be pulled. You know as well as I do that the regs say I'm supposed to pull them for the first infraction. I don't want to do that, but I will if I don't see you taking better care of yourself. I won't have another one of these conversations, Kix. Is that understood?"

"Understood, sir," Kix agreed quickly, heart in his throat. So much of his identity was tied up in being a medic… he wasn't sure what he would do if his status was pulled from him.

Rex nodded at that and moved to leave the medbay, but Kix had one more thing to say: "I'm sorry, Captain."

"You will be," Rex said solemnly, the effect made more chilling by the bright smile that flashed across his face in the next moment. "I'm not going to stop any of the men from coming to visit you. That's the worst punishment I can think of."

Kix laughed uncertainly at the threat, but didn't understand it until an hour or so later, when the medbay doors opened to admit a mass of grinning troopers.

"Hey, Kix!" Hardcase greeted, far too loudly.

Commander Tano's grin was nothing short of evil. "We heard you weren't feeling well."

"Not only that," Jesse added with a smirk. "We heard you didn't accept treatment until you collapsed in front of Captain Rex!"

Tup schooled his face into a mock-serious expression. "It's dangerous to take risks with your health like that."

Kix took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the medbay ceiling and cursing Rex internally. The captain was a cruel, cruel man…

---

A/N - Kix truly is the worst possible patient, but he needed a bit of his own medicine (ba-dum tss)! Sorry for the bit of Rex angst here, but in my mind, this is toward the end of the war, and everyone is getting mentally and emotionally tired. They made a point of mentioning it in the last season of the Clone Wars: sometimes, it's hard to be the one who survives. Also, on a lighter note, how long do you think Rex was working on that medical outranking work-around? My guess is since the time Kix made him stay in the medbay overnight!

Thank you for reading! I would be honored if you would consider reblogging so that my work can spread. There are only a few chapters left in this story, but it’s not too late! To those who have liked or reblogged my work in the past:

Okay, thank you, byeeeee!

[votederpycausemufins]

@petrichormeraki @strawberrylemonz​ are the obvious influences of this chapter since it’s grian backstory!!! I make mention of the Antarctic empire, Yandere Highschool and Evo, but you probably don’t need to have seen them to know what’s going on (tbh i’ve only seen Evo and not smp earth or YHS)

i’ve uploaded the fic onto my ao3 if y’all want to read it there. 

A castle stood in the middle of frozen plains. Though the wind was cold and harsh, inside was warm and cozy. There was the sound of a few people running through the halls, none of them that old.

“Blood for the Blood God!” A young voice yelled as they tackled someone.

“Hey! Get off me!” A similar voice spoke.

“Come on Techno, you’re taller than me!”

“And you have wings! Get your own blood!”

A third voice spoke up as they ran by. “I’m gonna have the last of the juice!”

“No! That’s my blood!” The young avian jumped up from pinning his one brother down and ran after the other. “Wilburrrrrr!”

By the time Techno reached the kitchen, his brothers were fighting in front of the fridge. As they tustled, he opened the fridge up and pulled out some cherry juice and used the last of the bottle to fill his glass. “Sorry Blood God, my juice now.”

The two kids stopped fighting and the avian pouted. “That’s not fair!”

The three of them ended up arguing until someone new entered the kitchen. A man with raven wings and wearing a crown walked in holding a baby in his arms. “Boys…” he spoke in a tone that made the triplets immediately stop what they were doing.

“It’s Techno’s fault! He stole my blood!”

“Only because you were too busy fighting with Wilbur.”

“Only cause he tried to get the blood first.”

“You weren’t fast enough!”

“I’m super fast! I just didn’t want to use my wings and beat you and make you cry!”

“I wouldn’t cry!”

“Everyone says you would!”

The cheery tone from the arguing children seemed to disappear along with the cost warmth as a chill seemed to find its way into the castle. The king carefully passed the baby to Techno and then kneeled down. “Xelqua, are you hearing the voices again?”

“No.” Xelqua said, obviously lying, making the king sigh.

“You know you need to tell daddy when you start to hear them again.”

Xelqua crosses his arms. “Techno doesn’t always tell you when he hears them!”

“And I don’t like him doing that either.” The king sighed. “Will you promise to always tell me if I get you some more juice?”

“Blood for me!” Xelqua said happily, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, blood for the Blood God!” Techno’s replied, handing the baby back to his dad.

They were only separated for a moment. Philza has his children holding onto his wings as they went through the market. He heard Xelqua cheer at seeing a stand of music discs. Before Phil could remind his son to stay with them, the child had let go of his wing. 

The king immediately moved to grabbed Xelqua, only to find him missing. He assumed he was just faster and lost in the crowd, but even going on a path to the music stand, his son was missing. 

He started searching in a wider area, some of the crowd started looking too. Philza started to worry about his son being kidnapped with him being a prince and all. He offered a reward, right there in the crowd for whoever found his son. He hoped it would work, but it didn’t.

Phil kept searching even when Wilbur started to complain he was tired and the baby in his arms started wailing. But his son didn’t reappear.

In a distant world, Xelqua put his foot down on the sidewalk, surprised to see it not cobblestone and also barely anyone in sight. “Daddy?” He looked around for his dad, but he wasn’t there. “D-daddy? D-dad?!” He looked around wildly, but still there was no sign of the king. “Dad! T-Techno! Wilbur!” He shouted for his family. But they weren’t there.

A woman spotted the lost Xelqua and took him to the police. When he described his family and home, the officers were left scratching their heads. They listed him as a found person, but no one ever came. 

After a month he was put in the foster system. Compared to his previous life as a prince, Being an orphan was the worst thing ever. He hated being bullied for everything. His wings, which he eventually learned to hide completely. The way he talked, which caused him to try and hide his accent. And his name. That wasn’t something he could easily change, but when he ran away and started a new life on his own, it was easier. And when Sam and Taurus asked for his name. It was Grian.

Part of Grian was glad when the universe went sideways and he couldn’t find Sam or Taurtis. He had done some things that most people would frown upon. But he had to do them. He needed the ransom money, he needed to help his friends escape, he needed to kill YakuzaKaru. And it hadn’t helped when the voices told him he was right.

But suddenly he was in a world that was much simpler and closer to how home had been. He was free to do whatever he pleased. He ended up moving towards an ocean and making a castle in the middle of it. It wasn’t the Antarctic Empire, but it was his empire. His Grian Empire.

And it was so much better here. If he exploded someone or robbed them or trapped them in a box, he wasn’t in danger of getting hurt or arrested. The worst that happened was the Watchers showing up. They liked using clay and Grian needed clay. So he stole every bit he could. Of course, the Watchers didn’t like that, so he was told to burn it or have his items trapped away or something else.

Grian thought it was unfair. What gave them the right to choose what he was doing was wrong? He didn’t see anyone else get in trouble. And the voices agreed with him, it wasn’t his fault.

And then he was taken away by the Watchers. While he was scared by that, the voices assured him it would be fine. The Watchers had just been testing him. And now they were giving him a chance to join. He would have said no, but then he thought about the family he lost. The Watchers were powerful. If he became one, he could find his family again.

He took the power. He became a Watcher. The voices became clearer and he felt complete. At least until he realized he couldn’t find his family, even with all the power being a Watcher gave him. He could see into a million worlds, but it had been years, and when he looked into the world that housed his home, all he saw was an old empty castle. There was no one left.

Grian ended up shutting away his Watcher side in anger. He finally had the chance to see his family and they were gone. And if those voices hadn’t told him to take the power and look, he wouldn’t have learned the truth. Grian preferred the idea that he could see his family again, or at least imagine the possibility, then know for sure that he was truly alone.

So Grian used his powers as a Watcher to hide the voices and the powers away. If he wanted to, he could pull them back, but why bother. He stayed with the Watchers for a while, gazing into the world he had just left before reaching for his powers just a little to look into other worlds. He then met someone who felt like his match. Everyone knew Redstoners and Builders fit perfectly together. And Grian was a builder while this man created redstone masterpieces. 

Grian watched as the man left into a server called Hermitcraft. He followed along and searched for the admin of the world. The admin seemed surprised to see Grian, but allowed him to join them, though not right away as they were going to be moving worlds soon. Grian agreed to wait, and wait he did. The moment the world was open, Grian took himself there. It was empty for a short bit, but then other people started showing up.

Grian followed the redstoner Mumbo around, glad to have a new friend. He didn’t understand half the things Mumbo talked about when it came to redstone, but it was still fun to listen to. It helped distract him from all that came before.

Once or twice, Grian had to use his powers from being a Watcher, and he had to explain to Xisuma what he was. The Voidwalker seemed to understand if be a little put off by how someone like Grian could actually be a Watcher.

When they moved to another world, Grian followed. It was peaceful for the longest time until Mumbo created Hermit Challenges. Well, it wasn’t right when he created them, but later down the line. He was just asked to wear blue. It shouldn’t have been that hard to do. But he always wore red. Blue wasn’t his color, it was his brother’s color. Grian tried arguing with Mumbo, asking him to allow the challenge to be skipped. He didn’t explain why he didn’t want to do it, so Mumbo said he had to.

Eventually, Grian wore blue. And then the mansion exploded. Everyone rushed to the ruined building and saw Grian in front of it, holding TNT. But Grian didn’t look like himself. He had tried to hide the memories away. It was just going to be for a day, but to hide the memories of his part life, he had to be a Watcher. And being a Watcher brought back his voices. And if he hated blue so much, why have a mansion that was all blue?

It took days for everyone to calm him down and get him back to normal. They panicked when he brought out his powers once more though it was just to repair what he had destroyed. Grian refused to meet Mumbo’s eyes for a while, so he went to his second closest friend Iskall to talk with. Despite Iskall’s insistence that he was not a therapist, he agreed to help Grian talk through what was going on in his mind. 

Between talks, Iskall spoke with Xisuma to relay what he had learned and soon all the Hermits were informed about what was going on with Grian. Of course Grian didn’t give out every detail like his life with Sam and Taurtis and the fact that he was a prince. All he said was he lost his family and ended up in a not so great crowd as a teen.

The next time Grian asked to opt out of something, people quickly obliged, both to not have the newest hermit hurting more, and also to make sure the server wasn’t destroyed by a Watcher going haywire.

It was months after the incident of the mansion exploding that Tommy appeared. No one knew where the kid had appeared from but it was obvious that sending him back couldn’t be an option. Mambo and Grian both took a liking to Tommy, Grian also being the newest Hermit and Mumbo being the youngest. Well, obviously now Tommy was both the youngest and newest, but it was the principle of the matter.

Though he was extremely wary of the pair at first, Tommy quickly warmed up to them, especially Grian. The two of them were so similar, people assumed they were siblings at one point. When someone pointed it out, then immediately regretted it because Grian got upset and started yelling at them. He flew off and Tommy followed behind, not knowing what was going on. 

Grian explained how he lost his family and how by the time he finally got home, they were all gone. Tommy told Grian about his own family, how they had slowly all gone a little crazy at the situation Dream had put them in. Slowly, the two of them bonded, just talking about the situation, joking around. Grian told some stories and Tommy replied with his own.

It was when Tommy pretended to be his oldest brother and said ‘blood for the blood god’ when Grian froze and became pale. Neither of them had used names for their family. At least, Tommy hadn’t used anything other than nicknames. Grian asked if the blood god was Xelqua. Tommy asked how Grian could possibly know that name.

When Grian learned Tommy was his brother, he pulled the teen into a crushing hug. He refused to let go for the longest time, terrified that just like last time, the moment he let go, they would end up in separate worlds. Tommy pretended to complain, but he was fine with Grian hugging him. He understood.

Grian made sure everyone was together when he used his Watcher powers again. Tommy had no clue what was going on and why everyone looked ready for war. The Hermits had promised they didn’t do that here, and it was worse that they all seemed ready to specifically fight Grian. Tommy nearly jumped between then, ready to fight every hermit for his brother, when Grian pulled out his Watcher powers. If Tommy had been scared of Dream, he was suddenly even more scared of his brother. 

The moments seemed to stretch out and the Hermits started moving towards Grian, ready to fight a Watcher, when he pushed it back down. Immediately Hermits were shedding armor and putting their elytra back on, glad that no fighting had to occur. Xisuma pulled Tommy aside to fully explain everything to the boy while Mumbo stayed with Grian as a shoulder to cry on. When Tommy returned, Grian once again held him close, this time seeming more worried about losing his brother. Though not in the sense that Tommy could disappear, but in the sense that Tommy could be like his brothers, losing themselves to madness. Just like Grian had nearly done.

While everyone argued, Grian used his Watcher powers more, gazing into the SMP that Tommy had come from. Though no one liked the methods, they were at least glad to get more insight into what had led Tommy to being the way he was. And because of it they were able to help him heal better.

One thing that became obvious was how the time within the world of Hermitcraft passed faster than in other worlds. It helped explain why it was so odd that Grian and Tommy, who once were only around five years apart were now closer to ten. Because of that, there was little worry of the SMP catching them by surprise and trying to find Tommy. Before the next MCC meeting, Tommy hit a growth spurt which made it harder for his old friends to recognize him even before he put on a slight disguise.

Back in Hermittown, Tommy slowly learned to be like his new family. Instead of stealing or hoping for handouts, he used the knowledge from the other Hermits to make farms and get plenty of resources. He didn’t mind spending hours in a mine as the mix of an efficiency five pickaxe and a haste two beacon made the stone break as if it were simply breaking grass. It was peaceful other than the occasional monster showing up and Grian looked proud of him every time so it always seemed worth it. Especially as he always ended up with plenty of diamonds.

When he first started building, the biggest thing Tommy made was a cobble tower up to the build limit, but after mining so much, filling his inventory with cobble, and having an amazing builder for a brother, Tommy built more. He created what looked like a tall wizard tower, which Grian begrudgingly was happy about, though Tommy saw the way Scar smiled smugly at Grian. For the most part the tower was just cobble, but here and there were stone bricks and mossy cobble, spruce and dark oak wood, and other stones to bring some color.

There were different floors and Tommy nearly gave Iskall a heart attack when the redstoner took a tour of the tower and walked in on the floor entirely made of diorite. One floor was filled with yellows and greens and housed a single bee which everyone was pretty sure somehow held part of Tubbo’s soul. It was messy, but at the top of the tower, Mumbo had helped Tommy create a cycling screen. Tommy made half of it the flag of L’Manburg and the other half the flag of the Antarctic Empire. Every few days he would flip a lever and the flag would change. Though certain parts of his past weren’t the greatest, Tommy was glad to have something to remind him of it, and Grian was glad to see the flag of his old family once again.

The last time Grian peeked into the SMP, he saw Dream getting so close to finding a way to Hermitcraft. He warned Xisuma who carefully told other Hermits to prepare, trying to not scare Tommy. Eventually the teen found out, which was probably for the best so when Dream did show up, he didn’t completely panic. Tommy tried to deny Dream could find a way in, and forgetting the time difference between the two worlds, Tommy slowly thought that he really wouldn’t show up.

But when Tubbo appeared and mentioned Dream would be coming, it became very real. Tommy prepared as did Grian. Grian flew to his brother to give him comfort before the battle started. Grian said he would do anything to make sure they couldn’t take Tommy. Tommy asked Grian to promise him not to use his Watcher powers.

Grian hesitated. He had been using the powers more and more. He’d slowly been getting used to them. Surely it would be fine for an emergency. But Tommy wouldn’t listen to Grian’s reasoning and reluctantly Grian promised not to use those powers.

He broke his promise.

[hanamiyaaaa]

ONE PIECE HCs: Jealousy Headcanons

This has been done over and over and over and oveeeer again, but here *pushes hcs towards everyone* please have them!! Also, I missed writing stuff huhu. I tried my best so I hope you like them!! 

Monkey D. Luffy

Pre-TS Luffy would be jealous whenever he noticed that you're paying more attention to something/somebody else. He'd jump right into your bubble and do stupid stuff so that he could be the most interesting person in your life again. Like a little kid, his jealousy is harmless. He'd be upset for a while, but once you’ve you given him what he wanted, he'd be smiling again and would leave you in peace. Lucky for you, Pre-TS Luffy is pure and easily distracted so you probably could handle him quite easily. This is mostly cute, but probably could get real annoying especially because you’re not allowed to pull the exact same shit on him. He’d be annoyed lol. Pre-TS Luffy is a child, definitely not yet mentally and emotionally ready for a relationship.

Post-TS Luffy is a whole level different. Even though he's still our bhabie, he matured and has calmed down. He won't be jealous over something like you talking to somebody else, or you reading a book (than watching him run around) anymore. He probably wouldn't be even feel threatened when you get close to other guys. He just have so much trust on you that you cheating on him wouldn’t cross his mind. But, of course, he has his limits. You're his. You swore, you promised to be only his so when other people start getting a little bit too touchy and you’re allowing it, he would snatch you away and he’d make sure that the fact that you're his s/o is known. There would be arguments, but he wouldn't be upset for that long. If you tried to make him jealous, you can just apologize and he'd accept it but wouldn't get why you'd want him to get jealous. 

Roronoa Zoro

Despite being known to be straightforward, Jealous!Zoro is probably going to be the one to give you the cold shoulder/silent treatment mostly because he tends to bottle up stupid feelings like these. He'd try to be chill about it, but seeing you way too friendly with swirly brows (or someone he doesn’t like) will get him worked up but since he doesn't to appear like a pathetic loser in front his you and the others, he'd be like 'meh i'm cool yo'. BUT NO, HE'S NOT. He wouldn't be able to completely hide the feelings of scorn and envy. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, his irritation will bleed through his exterior in the form of spicy words, sarcasm and silence that would initiate arguments. Since he's already frustrated, things would heat up right away and the whole thing would just explode into a full blown fight whether it's in a form of verbal exchange or uncomfortable silence.

Making up is casual? It's weird because no one needs to apologize. Zoro would just walk up to you and start a conversation, and he'd know that you guys are okay if you properly replied to him, and vice versa. It's usually Zoro who'd break the ice first, regardless of the who was in the wrong, but just know that it wouldn't be anything like "I'm sorry about earlier," but be more like "Do we have still have sake around?". It's not like he'd never apologize verbally, though. He just saves it for things that are actually meant apologizing for (petty, childish fights don't qualify).

Yellow ranger Vinsmoke Sanji

Okay. So, we can all agree that this one would be the most jealous out of these four, yes? Sanji's basically like Pre-TS Luffy but a tad more reasonable. He wouldn't get mad if you indulge in your hobby more than you spend time with him, but he would get upset if you talked too much or acted too friendly with other men. Unlike the marimo, he'd be open about his feelings. He'd rush to your side right away, take you away and let the other guy know that you're taken by him. He'd be very clingy to you and would be showy as well. Definitely, he's not embarrassed to hold you in public and he's also not afraid to do more than shoot daggers at people who looks at you funny (sometimes it's just Sanji's imagination really). Most of the time, he'd be angry at those people but when it comes to you, he'd just be sad and disappointed at most, which only ever happens if he figured out you made him jealous on purpose ...or not, if you're the 'polite' type who flirts back unknowingly or something like that idk. He'd never treat you the way he treats those garbage trying to get your attention like ever.

If a fight broke out between the two of you, Sanji would always be the one to apologize first, usually accompanied with gifts like flowers and jewelry. He'd make up to you even though he's not at fault. You're the most important person in his life and he'd be willing to swallow his every ounce of pride for you. Sanji definitely is that one friend of ours who we give advise about his toxic love life but doesn't ever listen or that one friend who gets back with his ex after a pathetic apology lol. He's just like that so please take care of this baby.

Usopp

Usopp probably thinks he's no good for you. I feel like he's filled with insecurities which he hides beneath his jolly exterior; these insecurities blind him from seeing his worth causing him to feel undeserving of you. Usopp is strong; he's got his own game and he plays it real good, unfortunately butterflies don't see their own wings. Like any other man, he'd get jealous if he sees you being questionably chummy with some other guy who he views as a much better fit for you. He'd actually be really sensitive about it, and the one who's prone to overthink. He won't get upset, but he'd get really sad. He'd laugh it off, shrug it off but it's not like it's your fault if you find someone else interesting right? Despite being known as a liar, I don't think he'd be able to hide his feelings from you completely, but he wouldn't voice them out either. However, you'd easily see through him. You'd have to be the one to bring this up because Usopp would never do it. I mean he probably would try but he'd be like "You know this guy you were talking to... uhh well, umm nevermind haha," and yeet himself out of that awkward situation. But even when you confront him, he'd initially play it cool but you know that it's not okay- he's not okay.

He wouldn't argue with you about this matter even if you try to lure him into one. He'd probably be irritated if you continued to push this topic, but sometimes insisting to talk about it might be the best choice even if it hurt the both of you. After all, Usopp can't always run away from his feelings and insecurities. He'd want to apologize first, but there would be moments where you both do it at the same time and it's just the cutest and probably the calmest way to end an argument right? He'd need reassurance from time to time so make sure to be patient with him okay? He'd be more confident in time just trust him and don’t stop loving him!!