#and now I have an author who will recognize me on sight because we frequent the same events

[displayheartcode]

my weirdest theory about you is that you know v.e. schwab personally

Publishing is a small world! However, I have yet to meet/interact with her in person.

But I am mutuals with an author on here and I know their editor rather well. :-)

[yukioos]

BED CHEM

SUMMARY: viktor x reader // you and mel walk down the hallways of piltover university when suddenly, you encounter two men trying to break into a professor’s laboratory.

AUTHORS NOTE: hiii!! so sorry i haven’t posted in a while. season 2 of arcane broke my heart, but it was so cool. anyway, im working on an ashley and ada writing atm, but pls be patient. this is 1.2k words and something i randomly thought of because of a pinterest comment under a photo of viktor

WARNINGS: trying to break into a room, reader is interpreted as feminine because of a long dress and heels, reader is a councilor, not proofread

as a new member of the piltover council, you’ve been the busiest you’d been in your life. constant laws to vote on and tedious, frequent meetings could make you feel annoyed at times. however, you made a new friend, who you’ve become extremely close with in the past couple of years.

you and mel knew each other when you were younger, just never hung out as much as you do now. despite not having strong connections to one another at a young age, it opposes how you are now. she’s invited you to her nightly scouting at piltover university.

it isn’t an interesting activity to do, but you love hanging out with mel. during these times when you explore the large university for hours, you find much time to converse with the noblewoman. sometimes you and she hold your giggles after telling the other a joke, not wanting to alert a trespasser.

this night doesn’t seem to be unlike all the others. you walk down the decorated halls of piltover university with a flashlight in hand. your flowy black dress hangs low to your ankles, and your and mel’s heels clack against the tile floor.

you and mel whisper amongst one another, she asks, “have you had your eye on anyone lately?” smirking softly and side-eyeing you.

you gasp and your cheeks flush, “‘course not, mel! i just… have not found the right person yet, i guess.” your smile diminishes.

your heels continue to clack against the ground, and you feel a cold breeze on your bare arms and leg, exposed due to the slit dress. you shiver and rub your hand on your arm, keeping the flashlight in front of you.

there’s a moment of silence between you two when mel hesitatingly speaks up, “maybe jayce has a friend you will feel… attracted to.”

“eh, i’ll just not do much. maybe let the universe pull me to the right person instead, yeah? i would hate to waste my time on the wrong person—“

she places her arm in front of you, squinting and giving you a look. you tilt your head before you begin to hear voices, and you quietly turn your flashlight off. mel keeps hers on, and the two of you tip-toe closer to the noise. it seems to be close to heimerdinger’s office, if you remember the university layout correctly.

“so far, so good—“ a man with a thick accent whispers, as if trying to hide his actions.

mel turns the flashlight on, and you cross your arms. the two men shield their eyes, and you recognize one as jayce talis. you tilt your head at the sight of the other man with brown hair and a defined jawline, who is turning a key into the door labeled ‘pf. heimdinger.’

mel taunts, “hmm. willing to risk exile for your endeavor. that’s quite the conviction.”

“councilor!” jayce interrupts, “what a surprise to see you, huh?”

then, the mysterious man comes up with an excuse, “wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom. how could i have…”

jayce stands up from his knees and pleads with you and mel, “please. we can prove that it works.”

mel comes up with a contradiction as fast as lightning, she hums, “hmm. you couldn’t do so earlier today, how is tonight any different?”

“we figured out how to stabilize it.” the pale man replies.

he eyes are sharp toward the noblewoman until his gaze travels to you. his eyes widen and his cheeks flush, he can feel himself becoming warmer and warmer. you can tell he’s observing you and your actions, as well as your attire.

god, you’re beautiful.

he doesn’t say many words over the next couple of seconds, but you smile at him, warming his heart quickly. he’s knocked out of his mind when mel speaks.

“you’re the professor’s assistant,” she refers to the man with the keys.

jayce disagrees, “no, he’s my new partner.”

you nervously chime in, sticking close to mel, “even if you manage to prove your theory, the other council members would destroy it.”

“heimerdinger will recognize the potential, miss l/n,” the handsome man says.

he knows your name!

mel scoffs, and she’s not having any of their crap, “he already does. it scares him. it scares them all.”

“what about you, miss l/n? you are on the council, correct?” jayce’s partner asks. his eyebrows furrow in curiosity, and your heart melts at his eyebrows twitching upwards.

you ponder for a few seconds, staring at him and slickly moving closer to the man. you respond, taking a few moments to think of how to form a sentence in front of such an attractive guy, “i think any worthwhile venture includes risk. and please, call me y/n.”

you hear whistling from the hallway, and you give mel a glance that makes her infer, ‘we need to make a decision quickly.’

“councilors, this technology, it’s real. and no matter what happens here, it’s going to change our world. we should be the ones to lead it. piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. i know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us? please, just give us a chance.” jayce explains.

you glance at mel, and you assume she’s left the decision to you. you reply with a sigh, “one night, you two. i want to see in the morning how you have progressed your technology.”

“thank you, councilor l/n,” the one in the white tie thanks.

you quietly nod and smile, waving to them as mel gently pulls your arm and turns the flashlight off. she goes on to distract and talk to harold, the enforcer. as you step down the hall, you glance behind you to hardly see the nameless man staring at you back. he then gets pulled into the room by jayce, who seems urgent to work on the high-end technology.

as councilor medarda’s flashlight flicks off, and you and mel walk away, viktor’s still standing near the entrance of the laboratory. he sees a shine in your eyes even through the dark hallway, however, he doesn’t know if you can see him as well.

he doesn’t even notice jayce has unlocked the door until he gets pulled in by the taller man.

“you were ogling at councilor l/n.” jayce grins, teasing his partner.

“i was not. that would be unprofessional and inappropriate. plus, we are here to work on hextech,” he attempts to change the subject, “we should get working on it.”

“i’ll work with mel to set you two up.” jayce objects, rolling his eyes and chuckling at the slender figure.

viktor couldn’t pass up that opportunity.

“who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” you ask mel, walking away from the enforcer.

she grins at you, showing her perfect teeth, “that was viktor. and from what i can tell, he’s interested in you.”

as you continue to walk down the hallway, leaving the university to travel toward your bedroom, you go to sleep with a happy feeling in your chest.

[earlgreydream]

rings.

| bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. bucky with rings

mafia au, soft!dom

cw: sliiiiight dubcon if you squint, but not actually

“You’re running the money through here?” Steve asked Bucky, and he nodded.

“Yes. We have a few other sites we launder through, but most of the money comes through here. Police don’t come poking around a locally owned Romanian restaurant on the upper east side,” Bucky explained.

“Boss is very... careful.” Zemo explained, referring to Bucky.

They were trying to make a deal with Steve and Sam, the two American bosses of another mafia they were trying to sell their illegal weapons to. One of their bases was raided, all of their drugs and weapons seized by the DEA.

They had come to Bucky, looking to buy more weapons to arm their dealers and “soldiers”.

“And who is this exactly?” Sam eyed Zemo suspiciously.

“Zemo. He’s security, and my weapons expert,” Bucky answered.

“Do you have connections?” Steve continued, trying to ignore the Sokovian’s unsettling stare.

“Yes. The head agent of the Manhattan DEA is one of us. Half of the local precincts are in our pocket, and I own the NYPD.” Bucky’s tone was impatient, he didn’t appreciate the questioning of his authority.

Bucky was the most powerful man in New York, and also the most feared. He demanded respect, dominating every space he entered. Steve and Sam wanted to be under his protection, and be supplied by him.

The men stopped talking when they heard a noise, and the four men burst into the front of the restaurant, guns drawn.

“Did you not lock the fucking door?!” Bucky snapped at Zemo. Zemo just rolled his eyes, and they stepped out into the dining room, where you stood.

You loved the Romanian restaurant just a few streets down from your building. You frequented it, their papanasi your favorite comfort food.

You’d had a rough week, a lot of family drama, and you were craving the Romanian food. You found the door unlocked and a back light on as you were walking home late, and you’d gone inside to try to get a snack.

It was empty, but four men had come out, three of them pulling guns and pointing them at you. You’d heard voices and had begun to walk to the back hallway, where they’d been talking in an office. You’d heard “I own the NYPD,” and nothing else. You’d started to leave when the men had appeared.

The man who didn’t have a gun pointed at you was in an all-black suit, silver eyes matching silver rings on his fingers that looked like they costed more than your Manhattan rent.

You were frozen, staring down the barrels of three guns, fear robbing your lungs of air.

“Get your fucking guns out of her face!” Bucky shouted, making you jump. Zemo obeyed immediately, but Steve and Sam kept their guns pointed at you.

“She’s-”

“She’s unarmed and terrified. Put down the fucking guns!” The other two slowly lowered their weapons, and you were shaking.

Bucky looked at you, a frightened girl who clearly had just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. You stared back at him, your hands trembling. You didn’t understand him protecting you from the other men, but you were thankful. 

“Please, I didn’t hear anything, I haven’t done anything... I just wanted some food,” you pleaded softly, looking at Bucky in hopes he’d take more pity on you.

“I believe you, doll, but we can’t let you leave,” Bucky spoke, and you bit your lip.

“I won’t do anything,” you promised.

“I know. You came for something to eat? Let’s get you some food. Zemo.” Bucky pushed the Sokovian toward the kitchen.

“Barnes, we can’t just-” Steve turned to Bucky, starting to object.

“You will respect my authority, Steve.”

You looked at him, and Bucky held his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, and his silver gaze softened.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” he said quietly, and you carefully put your hand in his, the metal rings cold against your warm skin. Bucky pulled you toward him, his other hand going to rest on the small of your back as he led you to his office, sitting down with you on one of the brown leather couches. You began to smell the food Zemo was cooking, growing hungrier. Sam and Steve sat across from the two of you, and you shifted under their intense gazes.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked you, and when you didn’t answer immediately, he introduced himself.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky,” he felt bad that you’d gotten caught up with them. Under another circumstance, he probably would’ve sent you away, but he couldn’t let you go in front of the two Americans, and not risking what you may have heard of their conversation. 

Your mind was spinning. You’d never been in the presence of four men as beautiful as the ones in the restaurant. Bucky especially, was incredibly gorgeous. His stern, dominating personality made him far more attractive somehow, and you found yourself growing warm in your jeans.

“Your name, doll?” Bucky’s voice was soft as he called you back to attention, snapping your mind out of your wandering thoughts.

“Y/N,” you whispered, pulling at a rip in your jeans, letting your eyes fall down to your lap.

“That’s a pretty name,” Bucky said, repeating it, and god it sounded so much better falling from his lips.

“Here,” Zemo returned, setting down a plate for you. A small gasp left you as Bucky hauled you closer to him on the couch. You realized it was so that Zemo could sit down on your other side. You picked up the plate, eating quietly, trying to ignore the stares from the men across from you. 

Zemo and Bucky didn’t stare, and Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your leg. They began to speak in Romanian, and you didn’t understand, so you kept eating. You nearly choked when Bucky squeezed your thigh a bit, his rings glinting from the movement. 

You wondered how the cool metal would feel against your heat.

“Y/N? I asked if you were alright?” 

“Hm? Yes,” you blushed furiously, and Bucky had an amused smirk on your face, practically reading your mind, or at least recognizing filthy thoughts as you stared at his large hands.  

“Her cheeks look a little rosy,” Zemo hummed, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheekbone. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and Steve leaned forward and took the now-empty plate from your lap. 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky teased, his deep voice soaking into you, surrounding you and blocking out everything else.

“No, sir,” you shook your head, swallowing hard.

“Sir? So sweet,” Zemo chuckled darkly, and you felt his fingertips ghost down your spine.

“I am sweet,” you said, looking up at Bucky, and he tilted his head to the side a bit, running his hand up and down your thigh. You squeezed your legs together without meaning to, just needing to alleviate some of the sexual frustration that was building inside of you. 

You were overwhelmed by the two men speaking softly and sensually to you, their hands on you, the dominating personalities, and the tension in the room. You were focused on Bucky, and he helped you onto his lap. You let him move you to straddle his hips, your back to the other men. 

“Want to show me how sweet you can be, doll?” He asked, his hands resting on your ribcage, and you could feel him through your thin top. You nodded shyly, and he kissed you to get you to relax a bit. 

“My friends here are going to watch, okay?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously soft, and you nodded. He kissed your cheekbone lightly before slipping your top over your head, your breasts barely covered by thin, see-through lace.

You blushed, looking to the side and seeing Zemo shift at the sight of your chest.

“He’s admiring you,” Bucky hummed softly into your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the skin there, just above the curve of the lace on your breast. His hands slipped down into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing you and pulling a breathy noise from you. You couldn’t see Sam or Steve, but you felt their gazes on your back, watching the way Bucky balanced softness and dominance with you.

“I want to make you feel good, I want to hear your little moans of pleasure,” Bucky spoke quietly, mouthing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Please,” now, instead of begging to leave, you were begging for him, the mafia don you were on top of.

“Let’s let these poor boys behind you see. I want them to know who’s in charge here,” Bucky said, and you nodded in consent. You felt like you could collapse as he got you to stand up off of his lap. You looked down at his rings as he smoothed his hands up your belly to tease the raised peaks under your bralette. 

“So pretty, doll,” Bucky praised you, kissing just above your navel. His eyes gazed up at you, and your trembling fingers threaded through his dark hair as you got lost in the stormy grey. 

Bucky wanted to tear you apart, but he took it slow and was gentle for you, the sweet girl under his protection.

He kissed the space between your hips as he undid the button on your jeans, sliding them down your legs. He reached a hand up for you to take as you stepped out of them, holding you steady. He smiled at the lace bottoms that matched your top, nearly see-through. 

You heard a soft throaty noise from behind you, and you looked to see Sam and Steve with their hands down their trousers, stroking themselves as they watched Bucky undress you. Zemo was doing the same, but less shy than the other two, his suit pants down around his knees, giving you full view of his cock.

You blushed shyly, feeling exposed but somehow safe with Bucky, who was squeezing your ass, leaving imprints of his rings against your skin. 

“Look, they’re all touching themselves because of you, how beautiful and sweet you are,” Bucky turned you around so your back was to him, making you watch Steve and Sam. Your skimpy underwear showed how wet you were, and you were unable to hide how turned on you were any more. 

Bucky’s hands were on your hips as he kissed down your spine, shivers shooting through your body. He slid the lace down your legs, leaving it discarded on the floor with your jeans, but not bothering to get you fully naked. 

A soft squeal escaped as you were suddenly dragged backwards, falling onto Bucky’s lap, your back pressed against his suit-clad chest. 

“You can rest on me, doll,” he coaxed you to relax, his hands smoothing down your body. 

Steve and Sam were overwhelmed by the sight in front of them, and Bucky knew it. He was doing this to assert his dominance, and to establish a level of trust between them. They watched him part your legs, keeping them open with his knees. Zemo was much more unphased than the other two, enjoying the show as one of Bucky’s loyal friends.

Bucky could hear your soft, unsteady breaths, and he stilled when your smaller hand grasped his. 

“Leave them on, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look him in the eyes before he could remove his rings.

“Of course, sweet girl.” Bucky planted a gentle kiss to your lips, deepening it to hear your soft moans. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” one of the men moaned as they came, seeing your sex glisten as Bucky licked into your mouth sensually. 

Bucky gently trailed his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were. He began to stroke your clit softly, listening to you whine.

He eased one of his large fingers into your tight entrance. You shuddered, your breath stuttering as you felt the cold metal against your hot pussy, your muscles squeezing around his finger. 

“Does that feel good?” Zemo asked you as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, still teasing your clit to keep you relaxed.

“Answer him, doll,” Bucky commanded you sternly. 

“Yes, sir,” you turned your head to look at Zemo, watching his hips fuck up into his hand. 

“No, you keep touching yourselves. You’re not done until I’m done.” Bucky’s order was directed at Steve and Sam, who’s noises rose in pitch at the forced overstimulation. They were too afraid to disobey Bucky, knowing the consequences would be dire. Zemo knew this ahead of time, and was taking it much slower, still enjoying himself as he watched you writhe on Bucky’s lap. 

Bucky kissed along your shoulder and neck, three fingers pumping slowly in and out of you. He expertly drew whines and moans of pleasure from you, and your legs were beginning to shake from the intensity. 

The cold metal against your heat was driving you mad, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your back arched off of Bucky’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you against him. He still managed to stay calm enough to continue being gentle with you, leading you quickly toward a powerful orgasm.

“You must ask him before you let go, sweetheart,” Zemo informed you, and your broken whimper filled Bucky’s ears. He watched the other three men writhing in their own mind-blowing pleasure, all under the instruction of him. 

“Please, Bucky, I need-” you cut yourself off with a strangled squeal as he curved his fingers forward inside of you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” He said, kissing your cheek as he murmured the soft words. Your screams of white-hot pleasure filled the room, shaking and falling apart on his lap. A choked sob left your chest as he pulled out of you, his digits soaked in your come. He’d waited until you had fell down from your high, becoming relaxed in his arms. 

He was whispering gentle praises in your ear as he slipped his fingers into your mouth to clean them off. You hollowed your cheeks, obediently cleaning him up and feeling the metal rings pressed against your lips. You were soothed by sucking off his fingers and the praises, melting into the mafia lord.

“I think I want to keep you.”

[mrslilyrogers]

All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all. 

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!  

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration. 

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start,  I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand. 

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down. 

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain, 

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed. 

 “We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin. 

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had, 

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way. 

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option. 

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you. 

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him. 

 “I know. I’m sorry,” 

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise. 

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right? 

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head, 

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,” 

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him? 

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it. 

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed. 

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost. 

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”  

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide. 

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting.  He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life? 

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love. 

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women? 

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it? 

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that? 

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted. 

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that? 

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too. 

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time 

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence. 

“Come on, dance with me,” 

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple.  He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy. 

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now.  When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

You should’ve known.

 But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing. 

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave. 

You have to leave. 

Part Two

[smoochkooks]

—chapter three: from magnolia with love

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 847 words

summary: you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. onw it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

previous || next

Magnolia May it’s what you've decided on.  

Jung Ji-eun, the woman who was picked to monitor the publication of your book under Varieté, looks at you with puzzlement. She’s a woman in her late thirties, although she looks much more younger. Her perfume smells expensive, and so does the black Birkin bag she owns. Her auburn hair is perfectly styled, shiny and soft as silk.  

She asked you to meet up in a rustic coffee shop downtown. Seeing as she didn’t even spare a glance at the menu and recited her order, you knew she frequently visits the place.  

It’s certainly the first time in her career that Jung Ji-eun has encountered someone who wants to publish their work under pseudonym. When it comes to literature, it’s a rarity. The only example you can think of is J.K. Rowling, but it’s not even remotely close to your situation because in that case, everyone knew from the beginning it was her writing the books, not some Robert Galbraith.

“I want full anonymity. No one has to know I’m the real author.”

It’s probably hard for Jung Ji-eun to understand why a young, aspiring writer like you doesn’t crave the possible popularity. The industry is full of greedy people who lost their true passion along the way and now their only focus is money. You aren’t like this.

“Of course, we can discuss publishing your book under alias, but you have to realise you’re robbing yourself of numerous possibilities that come with it,” Ji-eun says after a while. “Let’s say your book gains some respectful popularity among readers. Normally, they would like to meet the author in person, have their book signed. It’ll become impossible once you decide not to reveal your true identity.”  

“I do understand the consequences,” you respond calmly. “I’m not thrilled to become famous and have people recognize me on the streets. My dream is to publish the book, not splendor and popularity.”

Ji-eun purses her lips. “Is there a specific reason why?” she asks.  

“It’s personal.”  

She read your drafts. It’s not hard to put the pieces together and realise you’re the girl from the book who's hopelessly in love with her best friend. You almost see the pity in Ji-eun's eyes, but she doesn’t press you further. You’re thankful for that.

She scribbles something in her notebook and sighs. “I’ll talk about it with mister Lee. I might not understand your decision, but I respect it.” You see sympathy in her eyes, which is something you haven’t thought she was capable of. What an irony ‘Don’t judge the book by its cover’ truly is.

You send her a small smile. “Thank you.”  

Ji-eun raises her hand. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. We need his approval first. I’ll try to convince mister Lee that anonymous author may spark some curiosity, after all.” She ponders for a moment and then adds, “Broken heart, the author who doesn’t want her identity to be revealed. Yeah, it does sound... intriguing.”

She then asks the waiter for receipt and pulls a few bills out of her wallet. Then, she casts you one last, brief glance. “I like you, Y/N. I enjoyed reading your drafts. I’ll try to help you publish this book the way you want.”  

She’s out of your sight before you could even process her words properly.  

She is going to help you. 

When you received a positive response from Lee Jongi himself, saying he was very much intrested in the excerpts you sent him through Namjoon, you were more than surprised.  

I’d like to publish your book, he wrote in an e-mail. I’ll arrange a boarding meeting soon with my team and we’ll go over your drafts. As for now, all I can say is that it looks very promising. Chosing unrequited love as the main topic could be considered risky, but I think it’s something fresh, unexpected. In times when we are flooded with heart-warming stories about people falling in love at first sight, diversity is much welcomed.  

He doesn't know you are writing from personal experience. He has no idea that the main characters in your book are real people with different names. He thinks your ideas are brilliant, when in fact it’s all your life.  

Magnolia May is your alias from the time you were sixteen and running a fanfiction blog. Magnolia, because they are your favorite flowers. May, because it’s the month they bloom the most beautifully.  

Before the meeting with Jung Ji-eun, you haven’t really thought about the name for your book because you've never really been good with coming up with titles. But now, staring at the blank page on your laptop's screen, you know exactly what you have in mind.  

You’ve watched Jeon Jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. Now it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. However, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

You start typing.

An ode to a broken heart  

By Magnolia May  

[itsclydebitches]

Here's a quandary I've suddenly found myself in: where do you stand on writers deleting their own works, fanfiction or otherwise? I've had this happen to me on more than one occasion - I go to look for an old favorite and find it's since been deleted from whatever site I read it on.

On the one hand, I'm inclined to think that, "Sure. The author wrote it, it's their call. I don't own the work - I certainly didn't pay for it. It's their decision, even if it's disappointing."

But at the same time I can't help but consider the alternative - if I believe in death of the author (and I do), that an author's work fundamentally isn't solely theirs once it's been published, posted, etc., then it also seems wrong to have a work deleted. Stories aren't the sole property of their creator, after all.

But then I circle back. D'you think there are different obligations between authors and readers and the works being made in fandom space? I know if I had bought a book and the author decided they wanted it back, I would feel pretty comfortable telling them no, given I'd paid for it and whatnot. But that's a different world from fanfic and fandom space generally.

So. You're insightful Clyde, I'm curious as to what you'll have to say here (and to all y'all thinking about it, don't flame me. I haven't decided where I stand here yet - haven't heard a good nail-in-the-coffin argument for or against yet).

Val are you a mind reader now? I’ve been thinking about this exact conundrum the last few days!

(And yeah, as a general disclaimer: no flaming. Not allowed. Any asks of the sort will be deleted on sight and with great satisfaction.)

Honestly, I’m not sure there is a “nail-in-the-coffin argument” for this, just because—as you lay out—there are really good points for keeping works around and really good points for allowing authors to have control over their work, especially when fanworks have no payment/legal obligations attached. In mainstream entertainment, your stories reflect a collaborative effort (publisher, editor, cover artists, etc.) so even if it were possible to delete the physical books out of everyone’s home and library (and we're ignoring the censorship angle for the moment), that’s no longer solely the author’s call, even if they have done the lion’s share of the creative work. Though fanworks can also, obviously, be collaborative, they’re usually not collaborative in the same way (more “This fic idea came about from discord conversations, a couple tumblr posts, and that one headcanon on reddit”) and they certainly don’t have the same monetary, legal, and professional strings attached. I wrote this fic as a hobby in my free time. Don’t I have the right to delete it like I also have the right to tear apart the blankets I knit?

Well yes… but also no? I personally view fanworks as akin to gifts—the academic term for our communities is literally “gift economy”—so if we view it like that, suddenly that discomfort with getting rid of works is more pronounced. If I not only knit a blanket, but then gift it to a friend, it would indeed feel outside of my rights to randomly knock on their door one day and go, “I actually decided I hate that? Please give it back so I can tear it to shreds, thanks :)” That’s so rude! And any real friend would try to talk me out of it, explaining both why they love the blanket and, even if it’s not technically the best in terms of craftsmanship, it holds significant emotional value to them. Save it for that reason alone, at least. Fanworks carry that same meaning—“I don’t care if it’s full of typos, super cliché, and using some outdated, uncomfortable tropes. This story meant so much to me as a teenager and I’ll always love it”—but the difference in medium and relationships means it’s easier to ignore all that. I’m not going up to someone’s house and asking face-to-face to destroy something I gave them (which is awkward as hell. That alone deters us), I’m just pressing a button on my computer. I’m not asking this of a personal friend that is involved in my IRL experiences, I’m (mostly) doing this to online peers I know little, if anything, about. It’s easy to distance ourselves from both the impact of our creative work and the act of getting rid of it while online. On the flip-side though, it’s also easier to demean that work and forget that the author is a real person who put a lot of effort into this creation. If someone didn’t like my knitted blanket I gave them as a gift, they’re unlikely to tell me that. They recognize that it’s impolite and that the act of creating something for them is more important than the construction’s craftsmanship. For fanworks though, with everyone spread around the world and using made up identities, people have fewer filters, happily tearing authors to shreds in the comments, sending anon hate, and the like. The fact that we’re both prefacing this conversation with, “Please don’t flame” emphasizes that. So if I wrote a fic with some iffy tropes, “cringy” dialogue, numerous typos, whatever and enough people decided to drag me for it… I don’t know whether I’d resist the urge to just delete the fic, hopefully ending those interactions. There’s a reason why we’re constantly reminding others to express when they enjoy someone else’s work: the ratio of praise to criticism in fandom (or simply praise to seeming indifference because there was no public reaction at all), is horribly skewed.

So I personally can’t blame anyone for deleting. I’d like to hope that more people realize the importance of keeping fanworks around, that everything you put out there is loved by someone… but I’m well aware that the reality is far more complicated. It’s hard to keep that in mind. It’s hard to keep something around that you personally no longer like. Harder still to keep up a work you might be harassed over, that someone IRL discovered, that you’re disgusted with because you didn’t know better back then… there are lots of reasons why people delete and I ultimately can’t fault them for that. I think the reasons why people delete stem more from problems in fandom culture at large—trolling, legal issues, lack of positive feedback, cancel culture, etc.—than anything the author has or has not personally done, and since such work is meant to be a part of an enjoyable hobby… I can’t rightly tell anyone to shoulder those problems, problems they can’t solve themselves, just for the sake of mine or others’ enjoyment. The reason I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I was discussing Attack on Titan and how much I dislike the source material now, resulting in a very uncomfortable relationship with the fics I wrote a few years back. I’ve personally decided to keep them up and that’s largely because some have received fantastic feedback and I’m aware of how it will hurt those still in the fandom if I take them down. So if a positive experience is the cornerstone of me keeping fics up, I can only assume that negative experiences would likewise been the cornerstone of taking them down. And if getting rid of that fic helps your mental health, or solves a bullying problem, or just makes you happier… that, to me, is always more important than the fic itself.

But, of course, it’s still devastating for everyone who loses the work, which is why my compromise-y answer is to embrace options like AO3’s phenomenal orphaning policy. That’s a fantastic middle ground between saving fanworks and allowing authors to distances themselves from them. I’ve also gotten a lot more proactive about saving the works I want to have around in the future. Regardless of whether we agree with deleting works or not, the reality is we do live in a world where it happens, so best to take action on our own to save what we want to keep around. Though I respect an author’s right to delete, I also respect the reader’s right to maintain access to the work, once published, in whatever way they can. That's probably my real answer here: authors have their rights, but readers have their rights too, so if you decide to publish in the first place, be aware that these rights might, at some point, clash. I download all my favorite fics to Calibre and, when I’m earning more money (lol) I hope to print and bind many for my personal library. I’m also willing to re-share fic if others are looking for them, in order to celebrate the author’s work even if they no longer want anything to do with it. Not fanfiction in this case, but one of my fondest memories was being really into Phantom of the Opera as a kid and wanting, oh so desperately, to read Susan Kay’s Phantom. Problem was, it was out of print at the time, not available at my library, and this was before the age of popping online and finding a used copy. For all intents and purposes, based on my personal situation, this was a case of a book just disappearing from the world. So when an old fandom mom on the message boards I frequented offered to type her copy up chapter by chapter and share it with me, you can only imagine how overjoyed I was. Idk what her own situation was that something like scanning wouldn’t work, but the point is she spent months helping a fandom kid she barely knew simply because a story had resonated with her and she wanted to share it. That shit is powerful!

So if someone wants to delete—if that’s something they need right now—I believe that is, ultimately, their decision… but please try your hardest to remember that the art you put out into the world is having an impact and people will absolutely miss it when it’s gone. Often to the point of doing everything they can to put it back out into the world even if you decide to take it out. Hold onto that feeling. The love you have for your favorite fic, fanart, meta, whatever it is? Someone else has that for your work too. I guarantee it.

So take things down as needed, but for the love of everything keep copies for yourself. You may very well want to give it back to the world someday.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (19) || atz

You watch from the mast as Nassau comes into sight.

The past few days have been spent gearing up for the plan. To disguise the ship, you and the crew have all slaved away on your journey to Seonghwa’s hometown, taking down the distinct blue square sails of the ship and rigging the masts with patchy, torn sails grey from age.

Over the last few days, you and Wooyoung have gotten much closer from working together in the sails all the time. The head gunner had taken one look at your face after your incident with Yeosang and offered to sit with you in the crow’s nest until you felt better. Although you had been boiling over with fury, ready to push him away, he simply told you that he wouldn’t ask any questions.

He wasn’t smiling when he said that, so you agreed.

Yeosang never came to apologize, the coward.

The two of you had merely sat quietly in the crow’s nest, watching the sun set and the stars come out at night. Half the time you had expected Wooyoung’s mouth to open his mouth with some dumb question, but he had just remained silent the entire time, not even looking at you in the least. The two of you simply watched sky and sea become one, both melding into a single canvas of inky black, the stars both above and reflected beneath you. And you had thought long and hard about what you’d said to Yeosang.

I hate you.

You’d used the worst word you could have possibly have. You weren’t just angry with him. You didn’t just immensely dislike him. You had completely lost your damn mind.

Yeosang, one of the quietest and purest people to ever walk the earth and sail the sea. The silent, kind and all knowing navigator who you spotted talking to the birds in the harbor of Tortuga because he was so fascinated by them. The man who’d only ever shown you kindness and given you comfort. The one who never hesitated to help you no matter what your requests were and answered your questions about anything and everything. You’d told him that you hated him.

“I think I screwed something up.” You’d told Wooyoung, head resting against his shoulder. One thing you’d learned about Wooyoung was that he loved physical contact, craved it even, as long as you didn’t surprise him with it. His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you close to stay warm in the crisp night air.

“You just noticed?” The tone of his comment was anything but snark, and he didn’t say a word more. You’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, as if hoping his warmth could fend off the guilt and frozen anger in you.

The next morning when you had woken up, he was still there in the same position, one arm around you, watching the sunrise.

For the duration of the trip to Nassau, you hadn’t spoken to Yeosang once. Even though the two of you had bumped into each other rather frequently, Yeosang had just lowered his head and brushed past you like you weren’t there, and you had done the same.

You were still too angry to talk rationally to him.

I hate you.

You were still too confused to ask him why he would do this to you.

I hate you.

You were still too ashamed to face him for what you had said.

In an attempt to escape him, you’d simply juggled between staying in the rigging or cooking in the kitchens. San had asked you repeatedly about why your face had been so down during your lessons together, but you honestly didn’t know how to answer him.

So you simply hadn’t.

“Chin Hae?”

You turn absentmindedly on the yardarm to face Wooyoung as he makes his way to you, swinging between ropes as he settles next to your side. The two of you have finished your task in taking down the orange and black ATEEZ flag and carefully ripping holes in the sails, so you have nothing to do for now.

“Will everything really be okay?” You ask him quietly. You don’t like where this plan is going at all.

Wooyoung merely shrugs with a matter-of-fact smile as he glances at the dark shape that is Nassau begins to grow in size. “I trust captain. And even if it doesn’t turn out okay, I stick with the crew. They’ll never abandon us.”

You nod. Even if you’re not really very positive about where this plan is going, you’ll stay with the ship and its crew.

The plan, in fact, is to infiltrate Nassau as a merchant ship running from pirates. The cannons have been stowed in a special hidden space right beneath the main deck, and the weapons kept away in a compartment in the main hold.

But there’s a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Chin Hae! Wooyoung-ah!” Mingi calls from the main deck and you look down to see the quartermaster standing there. He looks equally as tense as you are, mouth pressed into a line. “Captain wants to see you to go over the plan one last time.”

You nod. Both you and Wooyoung leap from the rigging, sliding down easily with leather gloves on your hands and landing as lightly as a cat. If Yunho had the opportunity to see you instead of practicing his role in the plan, he’d definitely be proud of you.

The two of you move to the cabin, silently trailing the quartermaster quietly. There’s a tense silence over the deck as the crew merely watch the town of Nassau come closer and closer in sight. Everybody knows what the consequences are if the authorities see through your ploy.

The Treasure will be burnt to ashes.

The crew will be hung.

And yet none of them are backing down.

Your footsteps barely make sound on the wooden floorboards as you step into the captain’s cabin after Wooyoung. The door swings shut behind you and the two of you greet Yunho quietly, who’s seated on the bed silently rehearsing his lines.

Hongjoong turns from coaching Yunho and turns to the two of you. The first thing you notice is the dark circles beneath your captain’s eyes, as if he hasn’t slept in days, which is probably true. He’s carrying all your lives on his shoulders with this plan, and should it go wrong every single one of you will be strung up like dried fish in the marketplace.

You swallow uncomfortably at the thought and stand a little straighter in front of the captain’s desk.

The plan is scribbled down everywhere, on sheets of paper littered around the desk. Some you recognise as your captain’s calligraphy, some as Mingi’s scribbles, and the rest as Yeosang’s neat notes.

You force your eyes away from them.

“When we get to Nassau, it’ll be around evening.” Hongjoong jerks a thumb at Yunho, who’s rereading his script with the most haunted, terrified look you’ve seen. It’d make you worry, but you’ve already seen the careful construction that goes on behind this facade and know it’s nothing more than an act. “There’ll be an official coming to check the ship, so don’t be shocked when it happens.”

As Hongjoong and Mingi have discussed, the only literate people on this ship are Hongjoong, Mingi, Seonghwa, San, Yunho, Yeosang and you. Hongjoong is much too striking with his eye patch, so he can’t be the one the ship presents as captain when the ship enters the port of Nassau. Mingi’s out because of his deep blue hair.

San is needed on board as a healer, Seonghwa’s face is probably still on an arrest warrant in Nassau, and Yeosang simply doesn’t have a presence commanding enough to be a captain. You, too, have no idea how port authorities work, so the only one left to the role is Yunho.

It is strange to see your captain not in his usual red jacket, his signature look has been swapped out for a more unassuming white shirt and trousers. But no matter what he dresses in, he still exudes authority with every action and you hang on to every word he says.

“Yeosang and Seonghwa have done a map of where the official lives. It’s a small estate surrounded by a few houses in which the townspeople live. Do you remember his name?”

“Lucio Bartholomew.” Wooyoung echoes from memory. Hongjoong nods confirmation.

“You’ll need to infiltrate the estate from the back wall under the cover of night. Find out how many guards there are, where his office is and come right back.”

The head gunner inclines his head in understanding.

Then the captain turns to you, his eyes softening.

“Are you prepared?”

You nod. There’s a fear pulling at you from the inside, and you’re terrified as well.

Because you’re going on this mission too.

That’s why you’ve been spending so much time on the masts and rigging, learning how to move along ropes, to scale them as quickly and silently as possible. As the only other literate person on board who doesn’t have any outstanding physical traits for the town watch to recognize you by, your role in this mission is to read the plaques and clues around you to find Lucio Bartholomew’s room.

You’re also the only one light enough for Wooyoung to work with when using the grappling hook, thus you have been selected by the captain for this infiltration mission.

These five whole days in the rigging, you’ve memorized Wooyoung’s odd little cues and mannerisms, learning how to communicate with him silently without sound, familiarizing yourself with the way he moves. The two of you will need to move in absolute tandem, be of the same mind, before you can succeed on this mission.

The pressure is immense.

“This reminds me of those ninja I heard about before from Japan.” Wooyoung tries to smile, but it comes out more forced than reassuring. Hongjoong stands and inclines his head to the two of you.

“Thank you for doing this, Wooyoung, Chin Hae.” He says so seriously that you feel a lump growing in your throat. Everyone knows how risky this mission is, how dire the consequences will be if you fail. You won’t only be captured, but also jeopardize Seonghwa’s chances of ever getting to confront the official who’d killed his family.

“We’ll be fine.” You manage to lie through your teeth, trying to sound a lot more confident than you feel. Hongjoong’s eye shifts over to the head gunner next to you.

“Take care of Chin Hae, Wooyoung.”

Your captain’s care warms you for a short moment despite your mounting terror at what may be your a terrible fate. Wooyoung meets his captain’s gaze evenly.

“I will, Hongjoong-hyung.” No syllable is empty or void of intent. His words are a promise, a vow and an oath. “I’ll make sure he comes back alive.”

The captain holds the two of you by the shoulders, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion for a moment. “I wish you all the luck the world can offer. If my blessing could be of any use, I hope it will be on the two of you as well.”

The three of you fall silent for a moment, suddenly too aware of the fact that this may be the last time are seeing each other. Then Wooyoung looks up, sniffing the air once. You know what that means.

You’ve reached port.

Not a second later, the bell of the ship rings. You hear Mingi’s voice from the main deck, and Yunho stiffens uncomfortably, looking like a lamb that has just been sent to the slaughterhouse.

“We’ve arrived at Nassau!”

“Good luck, Yunho-hyung.” You say as brightly as you can, which isn’t much. Yunho smiles nervously, throwing the script into a drawer built into the captain’s desk as he fidgets uncomfortably, adjusting the collar of his silk shirt befitting the captain of a merchant ship.

“I’ll try my best.” With that, the four of you step out onto the main deck.

Wooyoung’s hand slips into yours as the two of you make your way to the bow. “Are you nervous?” He whispers out of the side of his mouth. You feel the cold sweat of his palm, the way his fingers seem to be locked in place, and you know that he is anything but calm on the inside. You decide to be honest.

“So much I want to dive straight into the sea and swim back to Tortuga.” You murmur back. Now that is no lie.

The Treasure has begun to enter the port, pulling up against a dock. Men working at the harbor catch the mooring lines your crew tosses over the side, pulling you against the wharf. Mingi gives the order for the anchor to be dropped.

The gangplank is lowered and the harbor official steps aboard, followed by a squadron of twenty soldiers, all armed with bayonets and flintlock rifles. His skin is pale, almost white as porcelain, and his hair is a shade of striking platinum blonde, his uniform neat and tidy. The way his fingers dance on the hilt of his cutlass tells you he’s a man who’s seen many a battle, and that the gold patches at his shoulders are not merely for decoration. A bead of cold sweat trickles down your temple as you take your place between Jongho and Wooyoung.

Jongho gives you a reassuring smile, but you can see that his eyes are dark with anxiety.

“Who’s the captain of this ship?” The official demands coolly, eyes scanning the number of seamen before him. Yunho steps forward, Mingi and Yeosang flanking him.

“I am. My name is Donghae.” He bows to the official, one hand over his heart in a sign of respect and honour. “I’m the captain of the Heron, this is my quartermaster Jiho and my bosun Sungjin.”

“I didn’t ask for their names. My name is Yoongi, head of port inspection and lieutenant of the Royal Navy.” The official replies curtly. His eyes remind you of a hawk’s, scanning the deck for anything out of place like a bird of prey. This man will be a difficult one to fool. “What is your business at Port Nassau?”

“My crew and I were threatened by pirates.” Yunho answers, inclining his head as if ashamed. “I could only let them take what cargo I had on board.”

The official raises a sharp, well defined eyebrow as he takes in the sight of the crew. “A rather merciful pirate ship if it let you go unscathed.”

“We did not put up any fight, good sir.” Yunho explains, sounding tired and defeated, as if he’s really spent the day before surrendering to a pirate ship. “They threatened us with cannonfire, but we hoisted the white flag before they could fire on us.”

“Is that so?” The lieutenant’s eyes rake every one of the crew. When his ice cold eyes meet yours, you feel a shiver travelling down your spine. “They didn’t fire on you?”

“No, sir.” Yunho confirms, nodding his head. The official’s eyes darken minutely.

“Then what is your purpose here?”

“To restock on provisions and freshwater, as well as mend the sails on board the ship.” Yunho says as honestly as he can. It’s technically not a lie, but it’s definitely not the whole truth either.

The lieutenant’s face remains unreadable as he turns away to face his men.

“Jungkook!” A young officer salutes and moves over to his lieutenant.

“Sir?”

“Register the Heron in dock seven. The rest of you, move back to your stations.”

You very nearly sag in relief, but you manage to keep yourself upright from sheer will alone.

“Yes sir!” The soldiers chorus, turning back and marching down the gangplank, boots thundering on the gangplank.

Yoongi gives Yunho a piercing stare. “Move your ship to dock seven. There is to be no one leaving the ship from between the evening bell and the morning bell for the safety of this town and its citizens. I hope you have a pleasant stay.”

He turns to leave, then pauses.

You see the lieutenant glance back at you for a moment, raising his nose to sniff the air. Then he whirls around and leaves.

Once the deck clears of the officials, you slump against Jongho, who pats you on the back comfortingly. You hadn’t even realised how terrified you had been until the ordeal was over, leaving you feeling boneless and weak.

The entire crew breathes a sigh of relief.

Yunho manages to shoot his captain a feeble grin, but he looks like he’s just been run over by a horse and then the cart the horse was drawing. “Phase one down.”

That night, you’re changing into a dark attire in your room with San’s eyes respectfully averted. You’re numb, what you’re about to do doesn’t feel quite real to you except for the terror slowly creeping up your legs. You fasten the clasp at the neck, before throwing a motley brown cloak around you to hide the bulge of the grappling rope tied at your waist.

“I’m done.” You breathe to San, and your master turns to you, passing you the silver hairpin in his hand. You tuck it in your belt, before looking at the healer. His face is completely unreadable, and for once, you find it difficult to interpret the look in his eyes.

Remember to smile.

You try to pull your lips upwards, desperate to ease the worry from his shoulders. “How do I look, master?”

Suddenly, San lunges forward, throwing his arms around you in a massive, rib crushing hug that seems impossible for a man so lithe. You can’t see his face because it’s buried in your shoulder, but you can feel the way his arms are trembling even as he tries to steady himself.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me safe and in one piece, alright?” His voice is just a little hoarse, cracking from raw emotion and vulnerability. You’ve never taken the time to fully appreciate how close you’ve gotten to San, what the green haired healer means to you. Your benefactor, your partner in crime, your master, your family. He is almost like flesh and blood to you at this point, your relationship as a master and apprentice nearly unbreakable.

But you don’t have the time to tell him what he has come to mean to you, so instead you return the hug as tightly as possible.

“I can’t promise that.” You’ve never lied to your master before, and you don’t intend to start making it a habit now. “But I will do my best to come back to you alive.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, before someone knocks on the door gently. “Hey.” Jongho’s head peeks in through the doorway and the two of you slowly untangle from the hug. “It’s time to go.”

You give him the best smile you can muster and move over to the maknae, whose head is downcast. But something seems to weighing heavily on his shoulders, and you frown.

“What is it, Jongho-hyung?”

“If only-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying again. “If only I could read… I could have gone in your place. I don’t… I don’t want you to be in danger.”

You feel a gentle warmth stirring in you in spite of your fear.

“Thank you, Jongho-hyung.” You press him into a quick hug. The young battlemaster stiffens slightly upon the contact, but then squeezes you back tightly before releasing you. “But I’ll be fine.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but nods anyway. “Stay safe.”

It’s with their well wishes that you make your way up the main deck.

Wooyoung’s waiting for you at the stern of the ship with the Captain, Mingi and Yeosang. He’s dressed similarly to you, all in black with a brown cloak thrown over his shoulders. Mingi gives you a black scarf to tie around your neck.

“Don’t get recognized.” He warns you, but you see the concern etched in his face. You take the strip of black cloth gratefully. Then you see Yeosang at the side, looking a little hesitant, still afraid to speak to you. Your heart squeezes painfully with anguish.

“Chin Hae-” He begins to say, but you turn to Wooyoung before he can finish his sentence. The navigator falls silent behind you.

You force yourself to concentrate at the task at hand. Wooyoung’s already thrown a rope over the starboard, the side of the ship facing away from the port and the prying eyes of the watch. You sling your leg over the side and look down into the inky dark sea, and for some reason, you don’t feel scared anymore.

This is just like the rigging lines. Just like you’re on the main mast again, playing around with Wooyoung and Yunho.

Maybe the adrenaline is finally kicking in. Or you’re just too scared to feel it anymore.

“We’ll be going now.” You tell them seriously. Hongjoong’s eye fixes on yours.

“All the best, the two of you.” Then he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “Come back to me alive. That’s an order.”

A small, fond smile twitches on your lips and the two of you echo together. “Yes, captain.”

Then the two of you slide down the rope into the sea, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

[edyacouky]

Not My Pack

Can be read on AO3

Sumary : Reverse Robin / Omegaverse

Batman and Tim are gone to a mission in space.<br />

Alfred take his first vacation since forever.<br />

So Damian is let alone with the last pup, Jason Todd, that his father adopt a few month ago.<br />

Not a big deal, right?<br />

Well until the pup start his heat ...“Are you sure everything will be alright?”

Note : 

Damian Wayne Al Ghul  Alpha 20 years old

Tim Drake: Unpresented 14 years old

Jason Todd: Omega (presented in this fic) 12 years old

Cassandra Cain: 9 years old not in this fic

Dick Grayson: 6 years old not in this fic

***

Damian sights and rolls his eyes. His father can really be exasperating, especially since he decides to add some pups to their pack.

“Tt- It’s not the first time who leave Gotham to me for one of your Justice League mission.

-This time Alfred won’t be with you either.”

Bruce could only blame himself, he is the one that force his father figure to go on vacation somewhere without cellphone so he can really relax. But he didn’t have expected having a mission on space with the Justice League.

“Maybe I should cancel his trip. He will understand …

-Father, don’t you trust me?”

Now Damian start to be really upset. With the years, they had many problem of communication and trust. Now, they both know that they love each other deeply and would do anything for the other, but they still have difficulty to talk to each other.

“This isn’t the problem. Bruce says wanting to avoid a confrontation. I am not comfortable to let you without back up.

-I will have back up. Damian roll his eyes. Colin leaves in Gotham, in case you forget, and Jon will stay in Metropolis like Iris will be in Central City. And …”

Damian looks at where Jason watches Tim prepare his bag.

“Tt- with your obsession to add unnecessary pups to the pack, we will even have a Cambion each. Oh yeah that’s true my name isn’t good enough for Drake and he change it. By what already?

-By RedBird. And we already talk about that, no pup has to be necessary.”

Bruce sights. True is Bruce is the one who convince Tim to change the name.

He never liked that Damian chosen this name and now that he got by Batson, Bruce just want this name fallen in oblivion.

RedBird is the name Tim chose and Bruce is happy with that.

But Damian never accept that. And he is particularly spiteful with Tim, refusing to accept him as part of his pack.

“Is leaving you Jason going to be a problem for you?”

Jason arrived in the Manor only a few months ago and if the little pup doesn’t seem to have found his place yet in their pack, Damian doesn’t show him the same animosity that he shows to Tim.

“Tt- as long as he doesn’t stole the silverware, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Bruce sights and want to add something but Superman call him to know when they will arrive. He calls Tim so they leave by the ZetaTub.

“I know the “Cambion remark” was to be mean, but just in case: Jason isn’t authorized to go on the field.

Tt- I know.

-Take care of yourself, sons. Tim and I should be back soon.

-See ya.” Jason says

***

True to be told, Damian as less aversion for Jason that he has for Tim.

Todd didn’t found his father’s secret identity, didn’t come to his house after Damian’s departure because Batman “need” a sidekick.

Todd was unlucky enough to be an orphan from the Narrow and bold enough to steal Batman’s tire the day of his parents death.

Damian can respect that.

Plus, Jason mostly like to be alone, or doesn’t mind spend hours in the same room of someone without talking. Damian appreciate this quality.

“You don’t need a babysitter, do you?

-I am twelve.

-Good. You just need my permission for leaving the Manor, otherwise do whatever a kid like to do.”

Jason raises an eyebrow watching Damian who goes to the Batcomputer.

“That’s it? Aren’t you afraid that I could steal the silverware?

-I already hide it.

-Seriously?”

Damian doesn’t answer, he simply start to caress Alfred the Cat who has taken place in his leg.

Jason doesn’t insist and decide to go to his room.

***

The following days were good. Damian was doing a good job at being Batman in Gotham, he didn’t even need back up. Jason was mostly in school or in his room. They spend time together only to eat.

At first, Damian join Jason because he was sure the pup was like his father and Drake, unable to cook and survive without Alfred.

But when he enters in the kitchen, Jason was already cooking something that smell marvelous.

“Not sure I am supposed let you behind the stove. Damian says

-Like you will cook?

-I am not incompetent like my Father. Mother teach me everything I need to survive, included cooking.

-Well, my mother wasn’t in good state to teach me anything but I am sure I am better than you.

-Tt – What about we check your little hypothesis?”

And just like that, they take the habit to cook together.

Unfortunately, it is not a family habit to have so many good days without any problem coming.

When Damian goes to the kitchen, he is surprised to not see Jason already there. He waits some minutes trying to decide if he should start without him, but it doesn’t seems right for him.

He suddenly realize that he doesn’t hear about Jason for hours now.

He is not worried about his father new pup, absolutely not. After all, he accepted coming in the Manor only to replace his father as Batman. Not to form a bond about this pup that won’t be part of his pack.

He is just curious that’s all.

And if it happen that today, Todd doesn’t want to cook with him, then it would be fine. There is no need to be disappointed about this prospect at all.

He doesn’t find the pup at the library so he goes to his room.

Weirdly, Todd isn’t in there either but Damian hears the shower running.

“Todd, will you eat tonight?” Damian asks knocking at the door

No answer.

Damian knock again calling after the pup, but just the sound of the water answer him.

“Todd, I’m coming in.”

As soon as Damian opens the door he has to pinch his nose.

“That’s stink!

-Fuck you. ‘m still smell better than you.”

Suddenly, Damian recognizes the smell. An omega in heat.

Except Colin’s, Damian never liked the strong smell of an omega in heat or an alpha in rut. Not even his own smell.

Jason is sitting on the shower, cold water that keep fall on him.

“How long are you in there? Damian asks stopping the water

-No! I am too hot! Jason moans

-Tt. How long are you in there?”

Damian take a towel and put it around Jason so he can make him leave the bathroom. Jason is right, he is really warm. Nothing unusual for an omega in heat, but always unpleasant sensation.

“I don’t know. It was still dark outside.

-Tt! It’s noon already! Why didn’t you come find me?”

Jason shrugs.

“Didn’t think you would have help.”

Damian frowns.

He knows that he isn’t a member of a pack of Jason, but he though that the pup knew that he could found him if he was in trouble.

“You’re a pup, of course I would have help you.”

Once Jason was dry, Damian put him so random PJ and put him in the bed.

“Stay in bed, you should be better here. I bring food and water. I don’t want to move, understand?”

Jason keep moaning and rolling in the bed, scratching his clothes. Damian rolls his eyes and leaves him.

***

Damn, this day gets wrong with every minutes.

When Jason hears Damian’s voice, he was relieved. He wants someone to help him, telling him that everything will be fine. But no one in his life was like that to him.

Even his mother … She tried but despite how much she loved Jason, she was part of the reason Jason needed help.

It’s been a few month since he was living in the Manor. The pack is really weird.

Damian, Tim, Alfred and himself are part of Bruce’s pack.

But Damian never try to bond with them, so he isn’t really part of Tim and Jason’s pack.

And Tim and Jason don’t see each other much. Tim come to the Manor only for patrol and Jason can’t participate for now. So they don’t consider each other as part of the same pack.

Alfred tries to change Tim and Jason relationship but there isn’t much that could be do with Damian.

“What a mess.” Jason thinks

Never less, Jason though that when he will finally have his heat, it would be safe and not so lonely.

Jason couldn’t help himself but cries.

He wants the pain to stop. He wishes his mother was alive and hugs him. He wishes Bruce was there, calling him champ. He wishes to have more comfortable PJ and more blanket.

He would have prefer not have an alpha that isn’t pack near him. Logically, Jason knows that Damian is an asshole but he can be nice like when they cook together. But he can’t help but fear of being abused.

Damn, would he feels this miserable every time he will have his heat? That sucks.

“Are you crying? He hears Damian but refuse to react. Tt- there is medicament with your food. Take it.”

Jason shake his head and cowers.

“Tt! Don’t act like a child.”

Damian forces him to sit down and give him some soup and medicament.

“Take it. It would be better after.”

Finally, Jason decide takes a sip, hoping that Damian will leave him after. But the demon forces him to drink all the soup.

“More. Your stomach is empty. You will feel better.”

Damian keeps telling him that but honestly, Jason is just feeling worse.

He can’t wait for his heat to pass.

***

Damian paces in the corridor.

The pup not only stink because of his heat but also because of distress.

Damian doesn’t understand what else he could do. The pup is safely in his den, with food and an alpha to protect him. What else could he want?

Of course he tries to contact Bruce or Alfred but neither answer. And Damian doesn’t consider the situation as an emergency.

True is he is too proud to admit he is overtake by the situation.

Seriously why did that happen now?

Did Jason too young for that? Damian doesn’t think that Drake as presented yet. Himself didn’t present until he was thirteen.

How could he fail? He helps Colin frequently, so he knows what an omega need.

Colin always seems happy in his bed after some food and medicament.

Another sobs is heard from Jason’s room.

Damian sighs.

He needs backup. Quickly.

***

“Hey Dami.

-Hey Beloved.

-Still no improvement? Colin asks him after they kiss

-It gets worse. Damian admits. I appreciate that you comes.

-That’s ok. But he may not want someone that is not part of his pack to come near him.

-Well one of us, will have to come in his room, no matter what.”

Colin shrug an eyebrown.

“Didn’t you guys get close this day?

-Still not pack.”

Colin didn’t try to debate with Damian. His lover could be as stubborn as possessive sometimes.

They were arrived to the corridor, when Colin had to take a break before he was going to throw up.

“You didn’t lie, it stinks. He must have been in distress for hours now.

-He says it was dark when he wake up.

-Damn Dami, you should have call me sooner.

-Tt …”

When they arrives in front of the door, Colin knocks and just stick his head in the room.

“Hey pup, can I come in?

-Who are you?

-I am Dami’s friend, he though I could help you.”

Jason took a moment to smell the air.

“Omega?

-Yes, I am.

-And a rapist?

-Of course he is not! Damian takes offense. Why should I bring some degenerate here?

-Why should I know that? You are not pack, right?” Jason yells

Damian looks really hurt and guilty by the accusation, Colin gently caress his cheeks.

He isn’t really good to show it to people but Damian really care, so much that he may hurts him sometimes.

“I am not here to have sex with you, neither is Damian.”

Jason simply looks at him, judges him.

“Can I come in?”

Finally Jason shrugs.

“Why not?” He whispers

Colin enters and carefully sit down next to Jason. Tenderly, he caress Jason’s hair. He moans so pitifully with just this little touch and love himself against Colin so quickly.

“What? Aren’t Dami’s hugs good enough?

-Damian doesn’t hug.” Jason scoff

Damian doesn’t hear clearly what the two omega say, but by the glare Colin sent him, he knows he is in trouble.

“Are you in pain?

-Not really, don’t feel the cramps since Damian gives me medicament.

-But you don’t feel good?

-Feel like shit.” Jason admit now putting his arm around Colin

Damn, Colin thinks this pup is so cute. He can understand why Bruce decide to adopt him.

After being sure that nothing was physically wrong with the pup. Colin look around the room and see many weird things.

“Don’t you have more blanket? Maybe some more soft.

-Probably. Bruce’s mother was an omega, they must have thousand blankets here.

-True. And are you the one who took away the curtain of your canopy bed?”

Jason shakes his head.

“There weren’t when I took this room.

-May be nice if I put some. Would you like it?”

Jason hums.

“Can I change PJ too?

-Of course sweetie, why couldn’t you?

-Don’t know. Jason shrugs. Damian gives it to me.

-I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you change.”

Jason nods, happy with this information.

“Ok, kiddo. I am going to bring all of that now.”

Colin tries to stand up but Jason yells and tightens his embraces.

“No, please no.

-Hey, everything will be alright. I have only for a minute or two. Just the time for you to change, ok?”

Jason starts crying again but let Colin go.

“I know that heat suck, but that would be ok now.”

Jason snorts. Damian keeps telling him that before and he was wrong.

He really hope that Colin is right because if his heat are all like that, without possibility of getting better, then he really want to found a permanent way to stop them.

Recalcitrant, Jason leaves the bed to change while Colin goes talk to Damian.

“So?

-So it was bad, Damian.”

Shit Damian and not Dami.

“You didn’t even hug the pup. Seriously, take a book or pick a movie and simply hug him.

-What? This is things I do only with you!

-There nothing sexual in that. And heat is not share only with mate, you know?

-I only do it with you.”

Colin frowns then realizes.

“Wait, you really never share a heat with anyone than me?

-Both of my parent are alpha, and it is not costume in the League. Damian blushes. Expect with the one.”

It’s Colin’s turn to blush.

“Is that for that you were so shy the first you share my heat? Even if it was platonic? Dami, you were only fourteen …

-And I already know then that you were my mate, Beloved.”

Colin could not help himself but to kiss him. His mate always find way to make in fall in love all over again, even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“Look, I understand now that it may be uncomfortable for you, but I truly think that you should give this pup some hugs …

-Beloved …

-You see how he reacts with me, and he doesn’t even know me. He is badly touch starved. And you get to know each other this last days, to appreciate each other, right?

-Tt …

-Look, if you really can’t I will, but for the long term, it would be better if it’s you.”

Damian looks at the pale figure of Jason, he stills seem miserable and shaking. Damian want to help him, he truly do.

“You will come back?

-Oh I just have to go buy some cigarette.

-You don’t smoke. Damian frowns

-No … I mean … That’s a joke.

-Are you sure? It’s not funny.

-Go help your pack’s pup, asshole.” Colin laugh pushing Damian in the room while he goes take what Jason need

Damian doesn’t have the time to tell “Not my pack” before Colin was gone.

Jason is back sulking in his bed and seems disappointed that Colin is not there anymore.

“Tt. Do you mind if I sit down with you?”

Jason shrugs.

“Tt.”

Damian sit down at the edge of the bed. The smell is still too strong and it still feel wrong to share the pup’s heat.

At least Jason stop crying and seems to find his discomfort funny and he is in the expecting of what Damian will do.

When his father will be back home, Damian will kill him for putting him in this position.

“There, there.” Damian says taping the pup’s head

And to his horror, Jason dare laugh at him.

“You’re really bad at that.

-Tt … Colin should be back soon.”

Jason see the alpha differently now. He truly though that he has abandon him, but he is here and with back up, for Jason.

Suddenly, this dark brooding distant alpha looks like a clumsy caring bear.

“Can I hug you?

-If it can truly help you.”

Damian sit a little closer to Jason and the pup throw himself into his arm, purring like a crazy once he was well installed.

Damn, Colin was right, the pup is touch starved. How could Damian miss that? He put one of his hands on the back of the pup and the other on his head playing with his hair. Damian wasn’t sure it was a good idea to repeat same gesture he do with Colin but Jason now is smiling.

The day may not be too bad finally.

***

When Colin return with blankets and curtains, he is relieved to see Jason and Damian much more relaxed.

He gives Jason the blankets and quickly he fix his nest so he can feel more comfortable in it while Damian and he put the curtains.

Once that Jason was sleeping between Colin and Damian, Damian could really consider that they success taking care of the pup.

And finally, sharing the heat of a member of “not his pack” that isn’t his lover is not so bad after all.

[lifeofyellowpearl]

Yellow Pearl Goes Over Old Files: The Diversion Agreement

Of the hundreds of files present on my holo-screen, my eyes fixed upon yet another of personal significance. Its personal meaning, found not within its content but within my experience surrounding the controversy brought upon by its abrupt inception. It is suspected, though seldom acknowledged, that the current resource crisis, which has come to define Era 2, had long been foreseen by White Diamond. And that in its earliest beginnings, the eldest ruler had begun making turns for redistribution of resources as well as redelegation of personnel. It is doubtless to me, with that in mind, that it was her surreptitious need for redelegation which prompted White to do what she did. Though I had heard whispers of Pink Diamond’s violent tendencies, I had never seen first-hand the full extent of her rage. That is, never until that fateful day.

I still had the duty of serving Pink Diamond as her temporary pearl since White Diamond had yet to provide a suitable replacement for the one she seized from the neophyte ruler. We had just returned to the moon base from a particularly clamorous meeting over which Pink was still fuming. Much to Pink’s greatest annoyance, White had made the unilateral decision to divert 10,000 Lapis Lazuli away from the construction of Pink’s colony. To the end that they may be redelegated to other projects throughout White’s Jurisdiction.

To make such a call without even bothering to alert - let alone consult with - Pink Diamond was not only a measure yet unheard of but a gesture of great disrespect. That White Diamond had violated the very protocol she, herself, ratified in making such a discourteous move infuriated Pink all the more. When word of this reached the young diamond, an emergency meeting was convened at which even Blue and Yellow Diamond expressed marked shock and discontent at White’s thoughtless action. And so, to placate her peers, White Diamond agreed that the order for redelegation would be - hastily - rewritten into a “mutual agreement” between White and Pink, requiring the signatures of both parties. Pink was not happy with this arrangement - especially considering that the gesture was all but purely symbolic. But, at the very least, she would be allowed to retain the Lapis Lazuli of terraform company 16. A company comprised of some of the finest that Homeworld has to offer. Pink also managed, after throwing a tantrum presenting her arguments, to secure the promise that White would no longer make attempts to divert resources away from Pink’s colony. These admittedly meager concessions were enough to earn Pink Diamond’s signature - albeit after some gentle convincing from Blue Diamond. But alas, it was not enough to quell Pink’s fury over the entire affair.

And so, for the very first time, there at the Earth Colony moon base, I was able to bear witness to one of the emotional blowouts for which the Pink Diamond was infamous. “I can’t believe her! Why would she do that! Why would she think I’d be okay with this??” Pink angrily paced, following no strict path or predictable direction, as she continued her tirade over what White had tried to do, “Oh but of course when I break the rules, it’s this huge goodman deal, but when she does it, it’s perfectly fine?? What even is that?? How is that FAIR?? I just… I can’t even….GAAAAAA!!!!”

I watched on as Pink, lost in the whirlwinds of her own rage, marched over to one of the glass panes of the base’s dome; upon which she took out her frustrations with a steady cascade of thunderous strikes. With every punch that Pink brought against the glass, I swear the moon itself trembled as though its very surface were jolted by the force of one thousand nuclear blasts! Truly it was a terrifying sight! As the rhythmic assault continued on, cracks in the pane began to appear, spread, and multiply; stoking mental imagery of potential disaster in which we are depressurized from the base as a result of the pane’s shattering.

Even more frightening were recollections of the injury sustained by Pink Diamond’s erstwhile pearl. An injury the poor gem was loath to discuss, as talks of its causation were a source of nothing but great anxiety and anguish for Pink’s loyal servant. Nevertheless, I had my suspicions of what - that is to say ‘who’ - caused that unfortunate pearl’s trauma. And seeing Pink Diamond now, in this truly horrific state, served to confirm my suspicions were correct. With this in mind, I was certain to maintain my distance and allot Pink the time she needed to fully release her anger. I did my best to remain at attention, in spite of the full-body tremors brought upon by the terror I was feeling at that moment. 

As time went on, the frequency of her pulsating strikes began to decrease. Until, at last, her onslaught came to an end and the final echoes of her thunderous rapping gave way to the default silence of this desolate place. The silence, however, did little to ease my nerves. For Pink Diamond now stood rigid and sullen with balled fists down at her sides, mumbling expletives through gritted teeth. Pink’s titanic fury had not died. It had only moved inward; barely concealing itself just beneath the surface of her inner gem. To this very day, I can still safely declare that at that moment, I was more frightened than I had ever been before or since.

My thoughts wandered back to Pink’s former pearl as many of her idiosyncrasies began to make sense to me. The ease with which she startled, the frequent hand tremors, and, most telling of all, her occasional hesitation in returning to her diamond’s side when summoned back from the pearl chamber. “I do hope her elders didn’t upset her too much.” I once heard her say. What I initially thought to be a statement of selfless concern, I now recognize to have been an expression of self-preserving fear. Indeed, that pearl had seen, known, and personally experienced, the truest extent of Pink Diamonds capabilities.

All of this, I was contemplating when my thoughts were interrupted by the tone of an incoming message. Still on edge, I fumbled with my holo-screen until I was finally able to answer the call. A Lapis Lazuli appeared on my screen. It was then commander of Terraform company 16, 528’s predecessor. I don’t remember her facet or her cabochon, and due to the circumstances leading to her unfortunate stranding on that doleful planet, such identifying information was blacked out on any and all files in which she is mentioned. I struggled to gather myself, “This is the Yellow -Er - White…” I had to pause and take a breath, “Sorry. This is the Pink Diamond control room.”

“Yeah, hey...” The Commander replied with an air of mild vexation, “I’m calling about the proposal my company sent to Pink Diamond?”

“Proposal? Which one?”

The commander nearly rolled her eyes. But she knew better than to let slip such an expression of disrespect when speaking of a diamond - unlike her loathsome colleague, 528. She did, however, sharply inhale before pursing her lips, I assume to prevent the quiet utterance of an expletive eager to escape her breath. “Uh, yeah. It was the proposal about a stretch of land that was originally reserved for the construction of a city. Peridots in my company have found that this land would be better suited for a kindergarten and that the city could be moved further north.” The Commander awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck “I eh...heh...I forwarded that proposal to Pink Diamond several weeks ago, and the city planner is really getting on my case.” Her nervous laughter did little to mask her exasperation.

I had to ponder for a moment before I remembered, “Oh yes, of course” I replied, “how could I forget such...wait, has Pink Diamond still not gotten back to you on that?”

“Nope.” The Commander’s frustration was still actively tempered but no less apparent, “Nope. Nope. Not at all. I mean, I get it. Pink Diamond’s busy but...I kinda need an answer so if you could just...”

“I’m sorry, but now’s not really a good time.” Of course now wasn’t a good time! Now was quite literally the worst possible time! I had no intention of disturbing Pink Diamond now. Not while she was in this horrible state. I’ll admit it, I was frustrated with Pink. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t help it. I had forwarded that proposal to her the moment I received it because I understood it’s importance. I marked it to be saved under her “high priority” tab and even let her know that the proposal was there, waiting for her reply. She acknowledged it but was so distracted by the images of “Earth’s beauty” - her words, certainly not mine - that it likely slipped her notoriously absent mind.

The Commander took another deep breath. I could already see that her forced politeness was dissipating, “Well, here’s the thing. The city planner is threatening to move forward and break ground, so I need an answer. Like...right now.”

“I understand, commander but with all due respect…”

“Please...don’t ‘with all due respect’ me. I have waited patiently for weeks, and I am running out of time. I need to know what to tell the city planner, and I need to know immediately.”

“Commander please, listen-”

“No, you listen…” I watched, over the course of our interaction, as The Commander’s demeanor change from a forced civility, to an abject annoyance, to a calm sternness, “When word gets back to the Diamond Authority that a city was built on top of a potential kindergarten without Pink Diamond’s knowledge, they’re going to be asking why she wasn’t made aware of that land’s viability before we went ahead with construction. They’re going to wonder why Pink Diamond wasn’t given a chance to make a final call. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

I sighed. I did understand. Someone would be held responsible for ultimately allowing tons of raw material to go to waste. That someone couldn’t be a diamond, and The Commander was making it clear that that someone wouldn’t be her. I could see it, now - stained on my record in bright red lettering, ‘Failure to forward vital information to her superior.’ Such an error would not be easily forgiven. The Commander wasn’t giving me a choice, “I understand.” I said, resigned, “I will remind Pink Diamond of your proposal, immediately.”

There was a sigh of relief followed by a brief moment of silence. The sternness with which The Commander addressed me had gone. Replaced by what appeared to be a twinge of remorseful understanding, “Look...I heard about what’s been going on, and I understand that Pink Diamond isn’t exactly in the best mood right now. But this shouldn’t cause too much of a fuss, right? All I need is ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ That’s it.”

“Yes...of course.”

“Thank you...good luck.” We both signed off with an unspoken understanding that this would not, in fact, be easy. But it was necessary. I turned to Pink, who was still facing the damaged pane, her back turned to me. Still seething. Still grumbling. Still ruminating. I began my approach slowly and methodically, so as not to startle the irate diamond. I could almost feel the ire radiating from her person as I got closer. Once directly behind her, I cleared my throat in an, albeit immature, attempt to grab Pink’s attention. It seemed to have worked as her head raised slightly. Yet, she did not turn to face me. I took a deep breath, mustering every ounce of courage that I had at my disposal, “Sorry to disturb you My Di-”

“Now now…” She growled those words with a quiet intensity that would send a chill down the back of even the most hardened quartz.

I truly wanted nothing more than to leave Pink Diamond be. Unfortunately, the situation obligated me to press further, “My Diamond, please. This is very impor-”

“I said, ‘not now’” again, I was shaken by her simmering inflection. But time was of the essence. I couldn’t let up.

And so, pushing aside the remainder of my apprehension, I made one final, more forceful, attempt, “My Diamond, I beg of you. We really need your…”

“SHUT UP!!!” In a single, rapid, fluid motion, Pink whipped around! For a fleeting second, I looked into the eyes of the frightful, raging diamond! Words could never describe that hateful look in her eyes! Much less the true extent of the fear it struck. But it was only for a second that I was able to catch a glimpse of that hideous gaze. For the very next second, I was off the ground! In the air! Ascending! Flying! Then falling!

I have no recollection of the moment I hit the floor. I can only recall the moment immediately thereafter. I was lying on my back, staring up into the heavens through the glass dome above. Only half-aware of what had just transpired. My ears were ringing. My mind was abuzz. I was all but deafened by the cacophony of voices of my now panicked inner-pearls. As the moment went by, the voices began to fade as my cruelest inner pearl regained her dominance over the rabble. Once I recovered the full extent of my faculties, I was able to hear her voice, loud and clear; just as biting and scornful as always. You stupid clod! You stupid idiot clod! You stupid worthless idiot piece of filth clod!! You just had to push her, didn’t you? This is what happens when you forget your place!! You’ve killed us! Do you understand? You’ve killed us!! You’ve killed us!!

‘You’ve killed us.’ Over and over that statement rang through my head until I was finally able to surmise it’s very grim, very literal meaning. Without looking, I placed my hand over my gem and shuttered internally when I felt the rapidly spreading cracks. In that moment, I thought of what I could have done differently. Of what I could have done better. I knew how Pink Diamond was. I knew how forgetful she was. I should have anticipated that the proposal would slip her mind. Why didn’t I remind her? Why didn’t I at least ask about its status? Why didn’t I try harder? Why didn’t I do more? I should have been more proactive! I should have been more tactful! I should have been more careful! There was little room for doubt. I was dying, and it was my fault. Stupid clod. I thought to myself, look what you made her do. Stupid...stupid clod. Though I knew that I was static, it felt as though my body were sinking, and it appeared as though the stars above were receding away, further into the ether. I felt that the heavens themselves were judging me, mocking me. And, of course, they were right to do so.

It wasn’t too much longer before I heard the rapid, approaching footsteps of a now panicked diamond. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” Before long, Pink Diamond came into view. She knelt down over me, clasping her head in both of her hands with a look of frenzied concern. “OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod!!!” In a gesture far outside the realms of social acceptability, Pink bent down and embraced me, cradling my head in her hands as she rocked back and forth, all the while hyperventilating. With my cheek now pressed against hers, I could feel the tears streaming down her face, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” No. This wasn’t right. A diamond should never find reason to apologize to a pearl. I wanted ever so badly to remind her that the fault was mine and mine alone! That it should be me apologizing to her! That I was the one to provoke her. And now, thanks to my worthless stupidity, I have caused even further distress! I wanted so much to tell her all of this, but I found myself, for reasons unspecified, yet unable to speak. 

Pink Diamond then pressed her face against my chest, sobbing into my gem, releasing my head to hang limp and allowing me another view of the stars above. There was no room for doubt. The heavens were indeed judging me. 

“I’m sorry!” Pink cried, “I’m so sorry!” as her tears made contact with my gem, I could feel the cracks disappearing and my body regaining its vigor. It was as though Pink’s tears had healed me of the very injuries she inflicted. I was then able to raise my head and see Pink, yet unaware of my rejuvenation, still crying into my gem. Making for a somewhat awkward situation.

“My...Diamond?” Pink pulled away, seeing that she had healed me. She embraced me again, now overjoyed. “Oh, thank the stars!” she exclaimed. She got up and helped me to my feet, “I am so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me! I was angry at the other diamonds and I just.” There she goes, again. I hated that she felt the need to apologize. Or, to be more accurate, I hated that I made her feel like she had to apologize. As if I didn’t feel terrible enough, what Pink said next still makes me cringe to this day, “Can you ever forgive me?” 

I bowed my head in absolute shame. That I had driven a diamond to the point of asking me, a pearl, for forgiveness was a misdeed that I could hardly bear. “There’s...nothing to forgive, My Diamond.” I whispered, “It was my fault. I’m the one who should be sorry...”

Silence. I didn’t dare look up at Pink, though I suspect she still felt guilty for what had transpired. Perhaps she wanted to say something to ease my distress. But there was nothing that she could have said. I am her pearl. The responsibility was, and always will be mine. 

I suspect it was her realization that nothing could be said to ease my feelings of shame and self-loathing, which prompted her to change the subject, “Um...right. So what was it that you needed?” 

In the frenzie, I had nearly forgotten. I, too, wanted nothing more than to put this conflict behind us. And so, I gathered myself and stood at attention to properly address Pink Diamond, “Oh...yes. Um, The Commander of Terraform Company 16 requested your response to a proposal. She had sent you. It was the…”

“Oh god! The proposal!” Pink exclaimed with a gasp. Pink brought up her holo-screen and anxiously scrolled through her inbox. “Gah! I can’t believe I forgot about that! Where was it? Where was it?”

“It should be at the top of your ‘high-priority’ tab, My Diamond” I said.

Following my suggestion, Pink found the proposal. “Oh! There it is! Now what was it…?” Pink tapered off as she went to sit on her throne, now fully engrossed in her current task. It seemed she had almost immediately forgotten about the preceding events. I went to take my place next to Pink Diamond. Standing at attention as she carried out her tasks. The rest of that day was largely uneventful, but that conflict would remain fresh in my mind. Amazingly, the same couldn’t have been said for Pink. For her, it really was though the whole thing never happened. 

As I observed this, I remembered something else Pink Diamond’s former pearl once said of her, “What I really admire about Pink Diamond is how quickly she’s able to forgive herself. She almost never dwells on her actions for long. Why, she hardly dwells on them at all! I sure wish I were like that!” ------

Author’s Note: Hey guys. Finally got around to posting another entry. Sorry about the delay but the truth is, I haven’t been doing well. Like...at all. Don’t wanna get into specifics but everything is kinda been falling apart, lol 😅. This may seem weird but if you don’t mind, I could use some words of encouragement if you get ‘em Anyway, here’s the Diversion Agreement. Making these documents has been surprisingly fun. They certainly make for a nice distraction, lol

[mell-bell]

Fight so dirty (but your love so sweet) - Part II

The Mandalorian x Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Words: 4773                       

Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor

Chapter: 2/8

Author’s notes: I did NOT expect the love that I received from the first part of this so I just want to say thank you for all of your messages and responses you have made my week! Literally cried reading all of them. I wanted to have this up sooner but it became long as shiiiit so lots of editing and there may still be mistakes so apologies because it’s late and I’m tired haha. But worth it for you guys. Pretty sure I tagged everyone that asked, it not please just let me know! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had prayed for darkness. But it didn’t come.

As you laid motionless on the ground, you knew the end was near. And there was nothing you could do about it. No one could save you now. Not even your Mandalorian.

You weren’t sure how long you had been there, but soon after the fire died out you felt your limp body being dragged against the ground, the rocks buried in the sand beating into you, birthing more bruises.

When the ground beneath you became smooth and solid, you knew you had made it back inside. And although it was a welcome relief to your body, you could only imagine what awaited you.

The men dragging you stopped abruptly, your body jerking in their hold, a groan escaping your throat.

Loud footsteps echoed across the empty walls in the hall, until two boots stopped in front of you. You swallowed hard before looking up and meeting an unknown man’s eyes. They were dark and sunken.

On either side of him stood Stormtroopers. It was then that you knew your initial suspicions had been correct. These were the men hunting down your Mandalorian and your little green friend. You could only hope that they were far away.

The older man stepped up to you and you flinched as his arm moved forward, his gloved hand slapping across your face. With a stinging cheek, you turned your gaze back toward him, meeting his eyes. His own widened minutely as if he was surprised you dared to look at him.

“Seems we have a fighter.”

He waved his arm, motioning for the troopers and men to follow as he turned on his heel.

The bare halls passed you by as you were dragged along, your gaze searching for any means of escape. But you found nothing. Just one door at the end of the hall that was quickly coming into view.

The door opened and a cold jolting gust of air settled deep into your bones as you descended the stairs.

When you reached the bottom, the contrast to the world above was disturbing. The cold stone walls seemed to be caving in toward you, the unlevel stone floor cracked, fresh blood still evident on the ground. You began to struggle against the men holding you, but their grips just tightened.

Rather unceremoniously, you were thrown into a cold and damp cell. You turned just quick enough to watch the door slam shut behind you.

And then you were alone.  

You pulled yourself across the filthy ground until you propped in a seated position against the wall.

Carefully you began to move your limbs one by one testing for broken bones or dislocations. When you thankfully found none you moved to push yourself to your feet when a twinge shot through your side and you fell with a yelp.

Tears streaked down your face as you clenched your hands tight, nails biting into your skin. You took a deep breath before pushing yourself up, your head rising, almost thinking for a second that a familiar gloved hand would be there to help you.

But it wasn’t.

You managed to make it to your feet, and as you swayed unsteadily, you took in your surroundings. Stumbling to the corner, you tried to dig at the walls in desperation, your hands turning bloody as fear settled into your bones. There was no way out of here.

With a scream of defeat, you fell to the ground in a slump.

A part of you waited for your Mandalorian to come bursting through the door. But logically you knew he wouldn’t come for you. Why would he? He had to protect the child.

You tried to rest. Tried to prepare for what was coming. You had been kidnapped before. Been tortured before. But not by members of the Empire. Commander Trax was right, you were as good as dead.

You closed your eyes but sleep wouldn’t come.

Haunting wails echoed through the stone walls and you wrapped your arms more securely around you trying to ward off the cold.

Hours passed by... And when they finally came for you, you were ready. You knocked three of them out before they were finally able to take you down.

And then you were taken to their leader.

This man. The Client as he called himself, was determined to make you talk.

He threatened. Had you beaten so frequently you were becoming numb to the pain. 

He had become so furious one day that he had a trooper stab you so deep in your side you had lost your breath. But even after that you still remained silent. He just sighed and had the troopers take you away.

It must’ve been at least a day later when you snapped and stabbed one of the troopers with a rock you had sharpened in the dead of night.

And from that moment on you, your arms and legs were shackled at all times.

He never let you have a moment of peace.

He would continue to call for you again and again. Threaten you. Beat you. Ask you the same questions over and over about the asset.

But all you did was lie on the ground, silently taking it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It could’ve been days later when the door finally opened again. Expecting it to be the Stormtroopers again, you just laid there on the ground, defeated.

But when you felt someone pulling at your chains, you looked up. It was a different man. He was much younger than the man in charge, donning a white coat, and wearing some strange type of eyewear. You had seen him lurking in the back of the room while they interrogated you.

“Who are you?” You said squinting at him, trying to steady your blurry vision, your head throbbing from the bright light in the room.

The man was twitching, wringing his hands together as he threw rapid glances at the door to your cell, “Is the asset safe?”

Your head swam and you mumbled something incoherent.

The man reached out shaking you hard and you flinched at the pain it caused.

“Is it safe?” He said louder.

You nodded.

The man visibly relaxed and your brows furrowed.

“Why do you care?” You mumbled.

Startled, the man stood abruptly.

“No, wait!” You reached out toward him, falling from where you had been propped against the wall, “Where are you going?”

“Keep him safe.”

And then he was gone.

The next time you woke, you felt a familiar gloved hand brush across your face and you almost wept in relief.

It was him. He had found you.

Something soft and warm wrapped around you, and you pulled it closer, trying to breathe in the scent you had become so used to.

Through the dark, you tried to reach out to him.

Arms wrapped around you, carrying you down the hall. And as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you tried to catch sight of his helmet. Just to know for certain that he was actually there.

But then you were dropped to the ground.

Your eyes opened.

And the man before you sighed.

“I knew I should’ve just killed you.”

“So, why haven’t you.” You croaked. You had been certain he was real this time. That he had actually come for you. But he hadn’t. This reoccurring hallucination had been haunting you for a while now. Thinking you were saved when in reality you were still a prisoner.

The Client began to pace, but your eyes were drawn to the strange man in the white coat standing behind him, wringing his hands. You met his eyes for a minute, before he looked away, scurrying from the room.

“Because I’m curious.”

Your brows furrowed, turning your attention back towards the older man.

“About the Mandalorian.”

Your heart was pounding as you tried to furtively glance around the room. This was the first time he had mentioned the bounty hunter.

“Ah, so you do know him. He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“That’s what I would like to know. You must have been to his hideout. His ship.” He questioned, stepping up close to you.

“No.” You lied.

The man huffed before reaching out threading his fingers through your hair, roughly pulling your head back.

“No more lies. You have wasted too many of my days.”

You spit in his face, but he didn’t even flinch. He pulled back slowly and wiped off his face with a handkerchief. Not pulling his gaze from you, he raised his hand and the door opened, a group of Stormtroopers storming into the room.

“You won’t find him.”

He let out a noise of realization, “You care for him.”

“No.” You swallowed hard, looking away from him.

He tsked, reaching out once more grabbing your chin and raising your gaze to his, “You do know that the Mandalorians are a complex people. He will never let you see his true face, his true self. Why protect him so?”

You bit your lip hard, remaining silent.

“We’re done for today.” He sighed in exasperation.

The Stormtroopers grabbed onto your arms, hoisting you up onto your feet. But as they went to turn you around, you ripped from their grasp and ran up to the man. You got within five feet of him before you felt a blaster aimed at your back.

The man in front of you seemed unconcerned as he looked down at you.

“You’re going to die.” You said.

His eyes flashed and a sinister smile crossed his face before he turned and swept out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had only just been returned to your prison when the door to your cell slammed open, the Stormtrooper who had been guarding the door falling to the floor, blaster burns smoking from his chest.  

Your eyes were wide as you looked out the open door. Before you could even blink a heavily armored man flew past, his arms locked in combat with a Stormtrooper. And your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to smile but then you froze unsure if this was another hallucination or if he was actually here.

You moved slowly, peeking out into the hall watching as he fought, shooting Stormtroopers left and right, knocking them down with his staff, and disintegrating them before they could fall to the ground.

You were in no shape to fight, but when you saw five troopers round the corner at his back, you swung into action, grabbing a blaster off the ground and shooting each of them point-blank.

The bounty hunter must have sensed your presence because when he finished off the last trooper in front of him, he turned slowly, his gaze landing on you.

And you could see the tension pour out of his shoulders.

This was real.

He was here.

You threw him a wicked smile.

Just as you took a step out of your cell toward him, you felt a blaster press against the back of your head. Raising your arms immediately, you dropped the gun in your hand onto the stone floor.

You both watched the Mandalorian shoot a twitching Stormtrooper on the ground before he turned his gaze to you and began walking slowly up to you.

He raised his blaster at the man behind you.

“Ah, my good friend. Come to return the asset? I’ll give you this one in return.” The Client said shoving you forward a little.

The Mandalorian stepped closer, his armor glinting under the harsh lights overhead.

“Though I wouldn’t trust this one.” He chuckled, one arm wrapping around you pulling you tighter toward him so that you covered the majority of his body.

You stiffened in his arms at that comment but refused to pull your gaze from the Mandalorian in front of you.

When he made a slight motion with his hand, you instantly knew what he planned and dropped to the ground while he shot at the man behind you.

Turning around, you prayed to see the man dead on the ground, but he was gone and before you could move to go after him, the Mandalorian threw you over his shoulder as he took off.

You bounced painfully against his armor as he sprinted to his ship. When he made it to the pit, he all but dropped you into the seat beside his before he took off fast as possible, setting course to his nearest safehouse.

You sank into the soft seat and breathed a sigh of relief. You were alive. And safe.  

A small green hand came into view as it reached out toward you and you smiled, reaching over toward him, the child cooing at you.

When you began to feel a tingle in your arm you looked down and watched as the wound begin to knit itself back together.

“What?” You whispered.

An arm pulled you back as the little green child fell back, falling into a deep sleep.

“He does that.” The Mandalorian’s voice was gruff as he pushed the child’s orb into a darker part of the ship.  

“I see. I-”

“Are you alright?” He cut you off.

You offered him a small smile, “I am now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must’ve fallen asleep because a while later you were shaken awake. You raised your head off of the Mandalorian’s shoulder where it must’ve fallen.

Standing, your Mandalorian offered you his hand, but with a quick look at your bloody hands, you instead grabbed onto his forearms and pulled yourself up on to shaky legs.

“When did we land?”

“An hour ago.”

You tsked in annoyed, “You should have woken me up.”

“You need to rest.” He argued.

You rolled your eyes as you slowly followed him out the back of his ship, watching as he lowered the ramp.

But when it lowered you were met with a line of Stormtroopers.

The Mandalorian shoved you back, raising the ramp back up, the sounds of blaster shots hitting outside echoing through the ship.

“How did they find us?” You gasped.

“It was you.”

“What?” Your heart was beating painfully as he turned toward you.

“You. You led them here. They couldn’t have known where I was going.”

“No, I....” Your hand involuntarily reached down to the cut on your side.

Stepping forward, his gloved hand ripped your shirt up, showing the small incision almost invisible above where you had been stabbed.

“A tracker.”

You took a step back and when you looked back up his blaster was aimed at you.

“No.”

It was if your voice had brought him to life, because he shot forward, pushing you back against the wall. His hand wrapped around your throat, his blaster resting against your side.

You had never been scared of him. Never had a reason to be. But standing there as his supposed enemy, you were terrified.  

“I didn’t know. You have to believe me. What would I gain out of being a spy?” You pleaded.

“You’re a bounty hunter, you work for money. We all do.” His flat voice struck hard as if he had stabbed you straight through the heart.  “You’ve been working for them since the beginning. The Empire.”

You could feel him shaking against you, and you reached up grabbing onto his arm wishing he wasn’t wearing that god-forsaken helmet so you could see his eyes.

“Please, you know me.”

He looked at your hand and for a second you thought he believed you.

But he just shook his head.

“No.”

You growled, “You were the one who invited me along! I was more than fine being left behind but you ‘needed a crew member’ don’t put this on me.” You shoved at his armor, but he didn’t move an inch. 

You took a step toward him, he took one back.

“Tell me the truth.” His voice was low, but you could hear the slight waver.

But you just shrugged tired, “I did.”

He holstered his blaster.

“What did I do to lose your trust? Not turn you in when I found you? Save you from getting shot all those weeks ago? Help clean you up after all your fights. All those talks we had. Do you really think I faked all of that?” Your voice cracking.

When he didn’t reply, you continued motioning to your body, “Did I beat myself up for fun? Broken ribs, a black eye? Do you think I stabbed myself just to keep my cover so I could turn you in?” 

His hands tightened into fists and you took another hesitant step forward.

But before you could speak, the ramp to his ship burst open and Stormtroopers began to pour in.

You flinched as the crate next to you shattered into a million pieces.

The man before you had turned away from you, running down the ramp throwing a glance back at you and his ship before diving into the fight.

You followed, jumping on a Stormtrooper, taking him to the ground before rolling off him and grabbing his weapon. You shot him before turning blasting another trooper who had just rounded the corner.

“Give me my blaster!” You yelled at him.

Everything was exploding around you but the two of you just stared at each other, the sounds fading away. As he reached down toward the blaster he had shoved in his holster, the world blew up around you. Your body flying back to slam into the wall behind you.

You blinked your eyes wildly trying to get them to focus through the dust. Your eyes were burning and you frantically rubbed your hand across your face, wincing as the dirt from your hands fell into your eyes.

Pulling at your shirt, you scrubbed it aggressively across your face until you were about to make out your surroundings.

Everything was destroyed.

Rubble was falling from buildings and smoke was rising from fires that littered the ground. The combination of dust and smoke made it hard to breathe and you couldn’t see far in front of you. As you tried to call out you choked on the dust and coughed.

You rolled over on your side trying to pull yourself up onto your feet when you caught sight of the Mandalorian lying a few feet from you. Finally stumbling to your feet, you took off towards him. You tripped over some debris, falling to your hands and knees and all but crawled over to his motionless body.

Your hands fluttered over him, hesitant to touch him.

Was he breathing?

As more Stormtroopers exited the building before you, you hauled him up and began to drag him back up the ramp to his ship. A blaster shot landed right by your head and you dropped to the ground, pulling the blaster out of the unconscious Mandalorian’s holster before taking down the offending trooper.

You kneeled over the man beneath you, shooting Stormtroopers left and right. When you finally felt him stir beneath you, you pressed his blaster into his hand before giving him a slight smile.

“I hope you won’t forget me.”

You took a step back and as he reached for you, you threw yourself from the ship, taking the hail of bullets from the Stormtroopers.

You turned, “Go!” You screamed.

And he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had left.

And you were alone.

A loud explosion sounded nearby and you dove for cover, your heart racing. You reached for your blaster, finding your holster empty. He had taken your weapon....when he thought you had betrayed him.

You couldn’t blame him. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Another explosion sounded and you threw yourself to the ground once more, covering your head as stones rained down around you.

Using your shaking hands, you quickly shoved yourself up and stumbled to your feet, your legs weak from being shackled for so long. You clambered through the rubble, the stones cutting into your already battered hands as you tried to steady yourself. As you slipped into the building the Stormtroopers had been pouring out of, all you found was chaos.

The Stormtroopers had already torn this place apart.

And it was all your fault. You had led them here.

As you ran down the hall, you stopped picking up what looked like a metal bar, which you hoped would pass as a makeshift weapon.

Room after room was empty and you began to give out hope that the Client was still here.

As you continued running, you passed dead bodies, mutilated bodies, people crying, people fighting. The citizens were fighting back against the Stormtroopers and it looked as if they were winning. All you wanted was to stop and help them but you needed to take care of the Client first. With him dead, this whole thing would finally be over.  

When you finally reached the last room, you paused, clutching the bar tighter in your hand before pushing open the door.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

You twisted the bar in your hands and took a step forward. You could see the fear in his eyes.

“Let’s make a deal.”

You shook your head as you grew closer to him, “There’s no deal I would ever want to make with you. You tried to kidnap a child. An innocent child.”

“For the greater good.” He stood up, his eyes mad.

“If this is your greater good I want no part of it.”

“With that creature, we can do such great things. Bring back the peace to this universe that we had under the Empire.” He implored.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t stop me.” He said, but you could hear the fear in his voice.

“You’re wrong about that.” You smirked, raising the metal bar out like a sword.

The man reached down grabbing a blaster from a fallen Stormtrooper and brought it up aiming at you. He shot at you wildly, the shot going wide hitting a beam in the ceiling. You circled around him and he quickly moved trying to follow you, still shooting erratically, the shots splintering into the walls around you.

A loud cracking sound sounded through the room and you looked up watching a wide crack form in the foundation of the ceiling. As pieces of stone began to fall, you shot forward, grabbing the Client’s wrist twisting it around. You pulled the blaster from his grasp before slamming the bar of metal in your hand straight up through his stomach.

He collapsed to the ground.

And the last thing you saw was your Mandalorian standing in the doorway, right before the ceiling caved in on you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An alarm echoed loudly, the abrupt sound ripping you from unconsciousness.

A coolness spread across your brow and you squinted your eyes as they strained against the bright light in the room.

“Sorry.” A soft voice mumbled above you, turning off the offending noise and dimming down the lights.

“Where am I? What time is it?” You mumbled, pushing the hand away from your face as you tried to push yourself up.

“It’s five in the morning.” The deep voice rumbled before you, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.

Your eyes focused. It was him. He had come back for you.

“Am I in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined it would happen.”

You heard him snort, and you chuckled lightly, pain shooting through you. He froze, his hands hovering above you, as you caught your breath. Once you settled down, he continued gently cleaning the blood and soot off your face.

He worked in silence.

You wanted so badly to ask him what had changed his mind. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

When he was finally finished he stood to leave, but you grabbed his arm before he could move out of reach.

“I.... would you stay?”

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t blame him. How his training had kicked in. How if you had been given time to talk to him he would’ve seen reason.

He stood motionless for a second, you and him just staring at each other. You were sure you looked worse, but the man himself looked exhausted even through all the layers of his armor.  

He gave a barely perceptible nod and for a second you thought you had imagined it. But then he moved. And settled into the chair beside the bed.

You turned on your side facing him.

You weren’t sure if his eyes were open or not, but you stared steadily at his helmeted face.

Reaching out, you touched his hand that rested on the bed and when he didn’t move it away you threaded your fingers through his and closed your eyes.

Even after everything, you realized the place you felt safest in the whole world was next to him.

“We’re going to talk in the morning.” You murmured.

“It is morning.”

You grumbled quietly before falling asleep, missing the soft caress of his hand over your hair and the quiet, “I’m sorry” that fell from his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a week later.

You were healing slowly but steadily. The worst of the pain coming from your cracked ribs and battered hands. You tried to move around more, but your masked savior had all but forbidden you from leaving the bed for more than a few minutes.

And you were going stir crazy.

He wouldn’t talk to you and he wouldn’t even allow you to see the little green child, because he kept trying to overexert himself and heal you.

However, one morning, he went into town to grab some supplies. And not five minutes after he left, you snuck out of the ship into the forest where he had landed.

It was peaceful. Far from any civilization.

Wrapping a stolen cape around your stiff body, you made your way over to the brook, sitting on a rock by the water’s edge.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool air and calming sound of running water.

That’s how he found you a few hours later.

You were surprised when he settled down onto the rocks next to you, instead of reprimanding you.

You ignored him, continuing to play with the tiny child who had joined you outside about an hour before. You threw a pebble into the air smiling softly when he froze it in the air and then shot it across the brook.

When he caught sight of the Mandalorian, his soft coos toward the man who had saved him made you laugh.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“That man.... was powerful.” You paused, “How did you get away with the child in the first place?”

“I gave it to him.”

Your head snapped to look at him, “You?...”

“And then I went back and killed everyone I could.”

“Good. They deserved it.” You looked down at your hands, still wrapped tightly with bandages, the seemingly never-ending shaking that hadn’t gone away since you had gotten back.

The man reached out, grabbing one of your shaking hands and placing it between his own.

You hummed quietly, as he sat there silently. Out of nowhere, he whispered, “I almost killed you.”

You froze. Neither of you had so much as mentioned it.

But you knew he felt guilty about it. A few days ago, you had gone to hand him his morning drink like normal, but when he had reached for it you had flinched away from him. He had immediately stood and left the room. And you didn’t see him for two days after that.  

You weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or if it was his own guilt. Either way, it had been a tense week for the both of you.

“But you didn’t.” You stated.

“But I could have. I would have.” He whispered. The tremor in his voice made your heart clench.

Turning toward him, you hesitated before you reached out, placing your hands on either side of his helmet. You leaned forward, your forehead meeting the cold of his beskar helmet.

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You said.

He turned away, pulling away from you, your hands dropping in defeat.

You shivered, and he reached over pulling the cape that had fallen to the ground around your shoulders.

“What do you think they want with it?” Both of you looked at the little green creature playing in the brook, chasing after a toad jumping on the rocks.

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do now?”

“Fight back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagged: @sargesbestgirl @abysswhiskey11  @yourfavoritearchangel @pedro-pascal-online @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @damnittjim @trickei @countessren @fun-sized-widow-bites @thefandomzoneisdangerous @ichigomiluku @bakerstreethound @clonesdeservelovetoo @bananyaaa @loveleah @javert-delacour @zoogrl05 @live-the-beautiful-game @maryan028 @ignimbritetcax @kaidad @kaimoar @yana-versio @peitromoximaff @alittleraincloud @fuckhead-writer @dottie-witch @nowheredreamer @pandalandalopalis @loveharrington @sw0rd-girlfriend @lex0h @piquantbarnes @go-commander-kim @finefangirl​

[houseki-no-suffering]

on ch 82 and what the hell is the deal with phos

super long wall of words ahead, you've been warned. also, im not qualified to discuss the emotional effects of trauma, so please correct me where im wrong and don’t hesitate to add on this post

contains an analysis of phos’ character arc, explanation on why and how they snapped and what might happen to our child next:

1. genki phos 2. post winter phos 3. laphos 4. on trauma 5. on snapping 6. speculations about the future

so, first things first, I could not help but notice the sheer number of parallels between this chapter and other significant points of the story. it seems to me that parallels are becoming more and more frequent as the moon arc goes on, and that’s not just because there are simply more chapters to draw parallels from as the story grows in size.

I believe that we’re at a turning point in the story, or even that the turning point has been reached, (aechmea telling barbata to fix phos for the umpteenth time is most likely going to give phos the last treasure, but ill get to it).

so, to try and understand what in the seven hells is going on with our baby at this point (the fandom collectively adopted phos since chapter 2, sign the papers if you haven’t already and donate to the fund to send phos to therapy) let’s retrace phos’ character journey.

1: genki phos

the phos who is too good for this world, too pure, the cinnamon roll who has no idea what the hell is gonna happen to them. oh joy.

hnk sets off as a coming of age story. phos is the youngest, they’re seemingly useless in a society that values usefulness above anything else so genki phos is initially driven by lack of purpose.

i’ve speculated already on the characteristics of the lustrous society, a society that emphasizes sameness over difference and that has no place for outcasts like phos and cinnabar. your value, in lustrous society, is dictated by how much and in which way you can contribute to the survival of the species, with elite fighters (the diamonds) being at the apex of the social pyramid and everyone else coming after.

additionally, while gems live in a highly interdependent and close-knitted society, such interdependence never takes into account emotions, loss, imagination, introspection and free-thinking. the society is extremely practical, apathetic, immobile, and everyone is expected to conform to that.

think about antarc: they’re the poster child of lustrous society: a 3 mohs hardness gem who managed to become an elite fighter out of sheer willpower, who’s blindly loyal to sensei, who sacrifices themselves for the greater good (the group’s interests > the individual’s interests), that does little if any introspection and that is happy about all of this and wants to leave it this way.  

phos isn’t like this at all.

since the very beginning of the series we learn that phos is an anomaly. and that’s okay, other gems have been anomalies, like padparadscha, cinnabar, even antarcticite, but while those gems found a way to tip toe to the margins of lustrous society to remain unobtrusive exceptions, or forge themselves into proper, useful members of the group, phos cannot do that. which is ironic, because we know that one of phos’ core characteristics is that they’re able to change and to bring about change in a world that is as immobile and still and stiff as… well.. rock.

like @ruddy-rutile​ pointed out in a past analysis, phos’ problem wasn’t so much that they didn’t fit in, but that they didn’t fit in the appropriate way: they’re emotional, they’re loud, they’re unreliable, they’re not apathetic. they’re kind. compassionate. imaginative. and imagination is something the other gems lack.

this fuels a deep sense of self-hatred that even at this early stages of the story is lying just beneath the surface and oozes out quite easily, like when phos wants to help ventricosus and mumbles that it’s no problem if they die in the attempt, they’re a good for nothing after all, what difference would it make if they dont come back. at least they were able to help someone, contrary to how they were unable to help cinnabar.

this is the leitmotif of the series: phos is a kind, selfless gem who cultivates a deep sense of self-hatred. the internalized pressure and need to feel useful turns into a necessity for change. they need to save cinnabar, they need to save ventricosus, they need to become a fighter, they need to help sensei.

contrary to most of the other gems, phos loves and loves openly and unconditionally, they’re self-less by nature and that selflessness is a barrier that hides the real reason theyre so ready to put their life on the line for other people: the fact that phos thinks that their own life isnt wort a scrap.

as someone who believes to be worthless, guided by shame and guilt just for being alive and fueled by a deep desire to feel loved and accepted (just like a child), phos is unable to cope with grief and emotion if not by guilt tripping themselves even further.

the fact that the amethysts were almost taken is their fault, the fact that cinnabar is suicidal is their fault, the fact that antarc was taken is their fault, same with ghost’s abduction. the only way phos knows to cope with this guilt is by doing what every other gem does: bury these feelings deep inside their head and throw themselves into work. be useful, like alexandrite, rutile or red beryl.

2. post winter phos

what was a story about purpose, about phos’ coming of age, reaches an end at this very point, with antarc’s death. phos has become stronger at this point of the story, they have agathe legs and gold arms and they have grief to cope with, trauma.

just like alex’s job is studying the enemy and red’s job is making clothes, phos’ job is the one they originally desired for themselves: to fight. because there is nothing as valued as a good fighter in gem society and probably young phos unconsciously hoped to overcome self-hatred by taking on the most useful job there is.

post winter antarc is a skilled soldier, so skilled that bort wants to pair up with them. phos has reached their old goal: through loss and maturity, now they have a place within their society, they’re accepted and appreciated, valued but not loved. because these gems are so, so bad at emotions.

and this is where ms ichikawa begins to fool us all. she had us think that this story would be simple, but now hnk starts its steep and unrelenting detour toward existentialism and phos begins their dance toward madness and bottomless grief.

post winter phos is a soldier, they can fight off lunarians, but theyre still blaming themselves for antarc’s death.

we already said that phos is a very emotional gem and they possess a fervid imagination (probably just like lapis). so what do they do? they start thinking. “maybe i can retrieve antarc if we collect enough pieces. if i can communicate with the lunarians. if i can understand why we’re fighting.”

thinking quickly turns into questioning: why are we fighting? why are we so weak? why am i different? what changed me? is it the new additions, is it just life experiences? can we change? how can we change? antarc told me i shouldnt shy away from life, so im gonna push myself further and further.

that’s when shiro’s arc happens and sensei seems to know something about it, something he won’t tell the gems. phos’ questions suddenly turn to him.

phos is pretty much paranoid at this point of the narrative: they have experienced loss for the first time. consumed by guilt and grief for antarc’s recent abduction (even if phos still doesnt know what death means, we’ll get to that in a while), phos cannot think straight. they can’t be questioning the one authority every gem recognizes, the person phos and everyone else wants to protect, their leader, father, teacher.

phos feels like scum just for even thinking about it, as loyal and young as they are. and yet once you start questioning one minuscule thing about the way you have always lived your life, more and more will follow. it’s a cascade effect and it becomes faster the higher the number of questions, until you’re left with nothing but doubts and you must take into your hands the responsibility to find out for yourself.

this is more or less what happens to phos. they feel awful for doubting sensei the first time, in chapter 27, so they spill their guts to cinnabar, confessing their sins. but what cinnabar says does anything but put phos at ease: of course phos is doubting sensei: he’s shady, everyone knows.

however, while cinnabar is a quiet outcast, extremely prudent (and cowardly if you want) in the way they decide to face life, phos is the total opposite. they just needed a little nudge, they were already on the edge of a cliff of doubts and existential fears. cinnabar’s words are the second, big step that sets phos off on their path to the moon.  

chapter 28 is when we see phos self-destructing because of this inner conflict for the first time, a pattern that will be repeated again and again the more phos loses sight of the truth, of a reliable something, a goal to cling onto and find direction.

it is ironic, because phos becomes a direction, a goal, the gems and the moon people’s hope (ch 59 and 72), but in doing so they have no hope left for themselves. let’s not forget that phos is very young by gems’ standards, not to mention in comparison to the moon people. how fair is to expect from a traumatized child to save the world and find answers to questions that run thousands of years deep and give phos nothing in return?

the pressure is enough to break phos and it does, quite literally, over and over and over again.

3. Laphos

lapis’ head comes at a time when phos was literally no longer able to manage this pressure.

it brings a waft of fresh air, it brings what emotional, kind phos needed to detach themselves from grief: coldness, rationality. and yet, it takes something away from phos as well: laphos is the phos that can no longer talk with cinnabar, the phos that brings cairn to reject the gems altogether and launch themselves into their kin’s killer’s arms. laphos is the gems and lunarians’ hope for a brief time, then it becomes the enemy.

i find it interesting how phos feels responsible for goshe and morga’s abduction too, even if phos was unconscious when it happened. phos has no clear boundaries between themselves and the rest of the world. they feel responsible for everything and guilty for everything. whatever they do will never be enough neither to make up for their past mistakes nor to find everyone a clear sense of purpose, safety, truth.

ichikawa plays with truth a lot. truth is that the lunarians are bad people and the gems must defend themselves, truth is that sensei is shady, truth is that the moon people are actually good, truth is that death is real, truth is that sensei is evil, truth is that cinnabar hates phos, truth is that the gems are evil, truth is that sensei is the only one that loves phos. who knows what the next truth will be, but can you call it truth, at this point?

if there is one point, i believe, that ichikawa is trying to make clear is that truth is subjective and that it changes, just like phos’ goal, the more knowledge you acquire and the more mistakes you make. truth is subjective but it must be sought after: you gotta keep fighting, you gotta move on even if you keep making mistakes, even if you cant undo your actions.

and another thing i think she’s trying to say is that you cannot make it alone. the moment phos tried to take it all on their shoulders, they moment they acquired lapis’ head, is the moment everything came crumbling down ten times faster than before.

and the most ironic part is that phos is still kind, even underneath that mantle of aloofness: they tried to do everything by themselves because they didn’t want to put anyone in danger, but in doing so they manipulated the gems just like aechmea. and aechmea knows and he’s been using phos for this.

4. Even more trauma

running after truth and after newer and more nuanced goals, phos has completely lost sight of themselves.

where do their alliances lie? what about their history? phos wakes up in ch 72 after the night raid and immediately breaks into pieces because they’re reminded of how cinnabar attacked them, the one gem they thought was their friend. one of the few truths phos had been clinging to.

phos wakes up after the night raid and asks the enemy “to the lunarians i look like a gem and to the gems i look like a lunarian. what am i?”

they break into pieces because they still believe they’re useless. they couldn't save cinnabar, they couldn't save antarc, they couldn't communicate with the earth gems, they couldn't even see adamant.

this is reminiscent of the very beginning of the manga: phos needs to feel useful, they need a goal, they need to be good at something. and just like they were ready to get lost at sea forever to help ventricosus they’re ready to die for someone else’s cause (not even phos’ own because they have no idea what to believe in at this point) just to be of use. after all, to phos, phos is nothing more than a scrap.

euc disagrees. ch 71 “we need you in our future” is a sentence that phos has probably ached to hear for centuries. “we need you. you are loved, you mean something, you are enough. you belong. we cannot build a future where you aren’t part of the equation. you matter”

and look at the way phos looks at euc. they can barely believe them and in fact they don’t. phos expresses some concern about dying (”after all, those less than 5 includes me”) but they still throw themselves into danger, they still take no care of themselves.

Phos’ self hatred and self-destructive tendencies run deeper than euc’s words could ever cut. those words meant well, but they were too little too late. phos thinks they don’t deserve this kind of hope, they  cannot understand it, cannot fathom a world in which they are true and so they will go on believing that they are alone and worthless. next time they go on earth, they’ll go alone and unharmed

it is ironic. they did so much, they went to the moon and back multiple times, put their life on the line multiple times, made more progress toward unveiling the truth about the lunarians and finding a way for them to be free of samsara than anyone else did in hundreds (presumably) of thousands of years. they did it by themselves. in barely three hundred years. that’s impressive. and yet it’s not enough for phos. in their mind, they just keep failing.

so what’s the big deal? they can sacrifice themselves, it’s the least they can do and no one will miss them after all. unfortunately, this is true, at least to some extent.

im appalled by how little even the moon gems care about phos. they’re so self-centered it’s almost funny.

even alex, who has gone through loss and grief if not as much at least in a way similar to phos cannot find enough compassion in themselves to be concerned about phos’ wellbeing after a few months on the moon.

ive heard people mention how this could be a result of the moon people injecting who knows what into the gems or manipulating them someway or another, but i believe that there was no need to. phos is an anomaly after all, their kindness is an anomaly. the lustrous are little more than self-centered children: they are able of little if no introspection and they cannot process complex emotions like grief if not by shutting off those emotions altogether.

the moon gems are still vaguely concerned about phos. in ch 76, when phos departs for earth for the last time, they do tell them to be careful and come back if things get bad, but they do little more than that. it’s little comfort and too little emotional closeness and by no means close to the huge amount of support and (emotional) assistance that phos needs at this point.

phos tries to make do with what they have: a will to end this war and the superficial words of what should be their family, but it’s not even remotely enough. and yet phos, just like any other lustrous, is very bad at introspection: they don’t notice or if they notice they repress it. what’s one more thing down the subconscious after all? it’s fine. phos can take it, until they can no more and they snap without having any idea that they will snap.

phos’ journey, which has made them increasingly more emotional, fragile and human (the last one quite literally) has also made phos even more alone than they were at the beginning of the story. more alone, with the same sense of worthlessness, the same urgency to be good for something or self-destroy, and so much more grief, trauma, guilt and repressed emotions.

5. snapping

“I mustn’t think of anything” phos reminds themselves in ch 76. because thinking never brought anything good and because euc would see right through it. 

once again, phos is repressing emotions. here they go, trying to be a cold blooded killer, ready to betray sensei again, the one person who has been good to them and that phos tried to hate with all their heart but just couldnt.

as ive written in a previous analysis, one of aechmea’s lowest blows was to tell the gems he was exploiting and manipulating to reach a salvation he doesnt deserve that if the gems want to acquire freedom they must do so by themselves. talk about coherence. 

but that isnt all, he sinks even lower than this: he makes phos and the others question sensei’s affection for them. he says that sensei’s love is fake, it’s synthetic, the gems should totally make him pray or destroy him, no remorse, no strings attached. it’s such a dirty move.

no wonder it confuses phos even more. phos believes it, or tries to, they say they want to break sensei into pieces, but after the night raid they realize that it cant be that simple. sensei never attacked them. he has always been good to phos. and phos feels even more worthless, more of a traitor for daring believe in love, in sensei’s affection, when here they are, on the lunarians’ side, ready to betray him again. 

how dare phos hope for anything? they dont deserve love, they dont deserve hope, they dont deserve happiness. they can try to give it to other people, they’ll kill themselves in order to do so, but they have no more hope and no love left for themselves, and they had so little to begin with.

as ive said, phos has little self-awareness and little introspection. i do believe that they had no idea they were going to snap until they did. even in ch 77, when sensei tells them he cannot pray, phos spends their last seconds of consciousness (before being attacked by all of the gems) to kindly ask him to pray. they dont care about themselves, but they dont reflect long enough to consider that reaching out to sensei like that could be interpreted as hostile by the paranoid earth gems. i think this is the first sign that phos is about to snap: they’re quite literally desperate.

tired beyond measure and forced to spend 220 more years in isolation, broken into pieces scattered all over the island, when phos comes to their senses again once kongo reassembles them they’re beyond despair. this war is taking the last toll on them and phos has no more energy to go on.

“please,” they say “pray. do it for no one else but me. grant me mercy,” from one bodhisattva to the other. they’re still somewhat normal, but when sensei fails to pray again phos can’t take it anymore. desperation and rage, fueled by hopelessness, worthlessness, grief and exhaustion make phos launch themselves against sensei, which, ironically, it’s exactly what the story needs.

apparently, phos is human enough to activate sensei but not human enough to make him pray. however, when the two of them join hands, sensei can actually pray. maybe it’s because both phos and sensei are intended to be bodhisattva? maybe because human voice commands are not as strong as contact? i have no idea.

phos has snapped by the way, and it’s weird how they go from “If only you weren’t here” to “sensei actually loves me” in a couple of chapters. in a certain way, we’re seeing phos going back to their roots: they love sensei and trust in sensei’s love, they’re once again openly emotional and impulsive, they’re once again ostracized by the gems (of course, much more violently this time).

i have written about how, after ‘fusing’ with sensei for a brief second, phos doesnt speak for the entirety of ch 81. they look and act like a literal monster, a scared animal, which is ironic since we know that they’re now human. i hypothesized that they might be reborn and that’s why they don’t speak, they’re a literal infant, but in light of ch 82, i think they’re simply hurt beyond measure. 

they reversed to their old emotional persona, vomiting out all the emotions and pain and rage and hate they repressed during these 300 years. and yet they still don’t hurt anyone, not as much and as deliberately as they could at least.

they’re conscious enough to recognize the notebook and be reminded of their lost friends, realize how little the earth gems care for phos and for what they’re doing. and, i believe, when phos is rescued and comes back to the moon, they are, for the first time in the whole manga, enraged by the earth gems’ stupidity and sheer ungratefulness.

phos has been fighting for the wellbeing of everyone for centuries, putting their life on the line, never asking for anything in return and always believing that they were doing the right thing. and yet it’s not enough.

aechmea is a clever politician, and like every good politician he’s good at picking up changes and turning them in his favor. 

he notices that there’s something wrong with phos and with the way they feel about the gems. maybe he doesnt yet realize that phos is angry at them for being ungrateful, but he senses something so he provokes phos: “you said to leave you on earth last time. did you change your mind?” that is “i’m not your enemy. see? im doing what you want me to do. not quite like those people down there on earth. oh, wait, were those your friends? aw, such a pity. to think they attacked you after everything you’ve done for them. but they’re your family, right? i’ll send you back to them if this is what you want. see? i’ll listen to your wishes. i am grateful.”

look how intently he looks at phos as phos incoherently and obsessively repeats the same thing over and over: “he would have prayed. he would have prayed for me. he loves me. he would have prayed.” if you want, this is also a syìubtle way for phos to apologize: they still feel responsible for their failure, but aechmea must understand: phos did everything they could, it would have worked, it was the gems’ fault.

adamant put phos back together, showing phos that he still cares. he is the only one that loves phos, while the gems (all gems, phos doesnt care much for differences at this point) keep hurting phos even if phos is only trying to help. so they must be killed. to hell with them all. and, notice, phos doesnt include themselves in the ‘gem’ category: they’re no longer a lustrous. they’re a monster, a liminal creature.

with nothing left to believe in if not sensei’s love and a promise to make him pray and then die in peace, phos wants to destroy the only thing that they believe stands between them and finally being useful, but also between them and freedom (freedom from suffering, from guilt, from existing, from their pain, from being): the gems.

this isn’t the first time that phos wants to kill something: in ch 68 they spoke about crushing sensei to pieces. it’s heartbreaking how phos went from “if only the moon people weren’t here” to “if only sensei weren’t here” to “if only the gems weren’t here.” will it turn into: “if only i weren’t here?” who are phos’ allies? who does phos feel kinship with? who is phos? they no longer know, and they’ve not known for a long time.

aechmea has noticed and he’s quick to turn the situation to his advantage. he shakes phos’ hand, he’ll grant them freedom just like phos will grant the lunarians’ freedom. he’ll forgive phos for failing, for their sins, for the bottomless despair and guilt that phos has been living with for centuries. salvation, hope, that is all phos needs.

as @rinboz pointed out, phos’ gold in ch 82 takes the shape of a lotus seed pod, a direct reference to when antarc was abducted and the gold had turned into a lotus flower. 

through pain, phos had blossomed into a new character that day, marking the beginning of their long journey toward truth and toward discovering that there is no truth. the day the story changed from a coming of age manga to something much, much more intricate.

phos’ pod is empty, they have nothing left to lose, it’s a dead flower. this is the end of the journey that started with antarc’s abduction. when phos wakes up again, it will probably be with new memories and a new addition to their body, possibly red diamond. 

phos’ self destruction has reached its apex because it finally became so intense to extend outwards, to other people that, in their immense grief, phos wants to bring down with them. this might be a minuscule form of progress: anger is better than repressing emotions at least, but phos’ problems are far from being solved.

6. on the future

what will be of phos then? it really depends.

the fact that they’re finally showing all that sufferance and those emotions they tried so hard to repress is good, but aechmea is still there to take advantage of it. 

phos will never be free as long as they dont associate themselves with someone that truly loves them and as long as they cant find someone that can help them deal with their emotions. aechmea is just using them and only ichikawa knows what he meant when he told barbata to be careful with those 200 years emotions.

theoretically, phos was unconscious during the timelapse, but if there are emotions to treat carefully maybe they weren’t? maybe the change we’ve seen in phos this chapter depends on what they had to endure during that time. or maybe aechmea simply wants to make sure that his pet is easy to use.

i do believe we’re close to the end. i dont know if it will be the end of the series or just the end of phos as we know them. i could hope for something good to finally happen to them and for them to heal, but it would take a therapist or someone that loves phos. 

maybe euclase could side up with sensei, they seemed the most concerned about phos’ status and the most prone to believe them. maybe goshe and cicada could do something again, maybe rutile will fix padpa once more and padpa will talk with the earth gems (not very likely, but im throwing theories left and right at this point), or maybe barbata will refuse to follow aechmea’s instructions, at least in part, and try to help phos.

as always, im afraid we’ll have to wait. in the meantime, please hug phos. if you read up to this point hug phos. hug them now and shower them with love, because no one else will

[morbidcorvids]

Aaaaaaaa I’m so glad you opened up for anonymous asks!! I’ve been wanting to ask you for prompts for some time, but I feel shy about asking for them in public! Thank you <3 I love your writing!! Ok, prompt time (and if you don’t feel comfortable with anything I send you, you have every right to say no!!): Shouta figures out he is in love with Hizashi when he almost dies protecting one of his students. Mic’s reasoning for him is: “You love them so much, Shouta... I want to protect that love too”

It has taken me more than a month to finally finish. I am so sorry for how long it took! Exams and writer’s block hit me on November. Hope you enjoy!

It will also be available on AO3!

Title: Protect Your Love

Shouta was certain of one thing: Hizashi was his best friend. It’s been that way before and it will remain that way after.  Hizashi made that very clear the day they graduated from UA. 

Shouta knew it had to be true. He never felt that special connection with Nemuri, Tensei, Kan, or even Emi. Shouta only knew of one person who was close to him as Hizashi - perhaps even more. Thinking about him still ached Shouta’s heart and brought a tragic memory that still plagued his mind everyday. 

Shouta brushed off his thoughts as he passed by the food court of the mall. It was very early in the morning on a Tuesday and the mall was relatively empty. He planned it that way for minimal safety risks, but without his morning instant coffee he felt the weight of his eyes slow him down. It wasn’t as if there was a shortage of coffee shops at the mall, but he’ll be damned if he spent five dollars for a small cup. 

He didn’t even know what prompted him to become distracted with such odd thoughts. Maybe it was the fact that Hizashi invited himself and came along with Shouta to the mall with five of his students: Sero, Jirou, Kaminari, Mina, and Kirishima. 

The weather began to cool, and the group insisted on Shouta allowing them to go buy some warm clothes for the winter. It was supposed to be a simple trip that should have lasted for only an hour, but that didn’t stop Hizashi from swaying his way in and encourage his students to “treat themselves” as he called it. 

This wasn’t the first time Hizashi invited himself at the last second. It has become such a constant in Shouta’s life that he wondered how he got by without Hizashi a few years back. 

Hizashi being his frequent companion felt natural by this point. Shouta just didn’t understand why his mind ran in circles as his heartbeat increased whenever Hizashi was close to him. 

Maybe he did know - but he buried that knowledge deep inside his mind. 

As he made it past the food court, Shouta felt the ground mildly shake. He grabbed the nearest pole and tried to balance himself. He tried to listen for anything indicating danger, but the panicked noises of the employees and few visitors blocked any outside sound. The first thing he focused on was the safety of his students. 

The trembling began to die down as Shouta made his way towards the center of the mall. 

He was relieved when he saw another pro hero helping the employees and visitors evacuate the area. He scanned the nearby stores and found Sero and Jirou among the crowd. The two students caught sight of him and quickly ran towards their professor. 

“Mr. Aizawa!” Sero acknowledged as he composed his breath. Jirou kept close as the wave of people passed by and bumped their shoulders. 

“Sero! Jiro! I need you to help him evacuate the people safely. Then I want you to stay with him until I come get you, understood?” Shouta ordered, pointing at the pro hero near the entrance. 

“But, Mr. Aizawa, we can help you!” Sero insisted. Jirou nodded as fear crossed her face, “we have to make sure Kaminari, Mina, and Kirishima are safe!” 

“Listen to me, right now your job is to help evacuate and that’s it,” Shouta emphasized, “I’ll go find Kaminari, Mina, and Kirishima. Do not leave that pro hero’s side. Am I clear?” 

His two students gazed with hesitant expressions, prompting Shouta to narrow his eyes. 

“Am I clear?”

Only a few seconds passed by, but it seemed like a lifetime before Jirou nodded again. 

“We’ll do as you say, Mr. Aizawa,” she stated, tapping her earjacks together, “just please be safe.” 

Shouta reached for Sero’s and Jirou’s shoulders, tapping them lightly. 

“I will,” he assured before running off to the north end of the building. The columns were keeping the building steady, but a quick inspection made it clear that it could crumble down at any moment. Shouta needed to act fast, get everyone to safety, and apprehend the people responsible for this. 

The issue was that he had no idea who were the perpetrators and whether they possibly mixed in with the panicked crowd. He shrugged off that concern for now, and focused on finding his remaining students. 

He dreaded the thought that something might have happened to them. 

He suddenly felt the ground shake violently again and his ears ache as a loud sound emanated further down the northern end. 

He knew that sound more than he knew his own voice.

It was Hizashi’s scream. It was his quirk.

Shouta instinctively ran towards the sound, blocking everything around him. His mind was only centered on that voice. 

On his friend. 

He almost bumped into Kirishima if it weren’t for his sharp reflexes. The spiky red-haired boy slipped as he tried to avoid clashing into his teacher but was quickly caught by Shouta’s binding cloth. 

“Sir!” Kirishima breathlessly yelled as he pointed to Mina. “Mina and I were looking for you! Sir Present Mic and Kaminari are fighting two villains!” 

Shouta noticed Kirishima’s ragged, shaky breath and placed both of his hands on the boy’s shoulders. 

“Kirishima, I need you to tell me everything,” Shouta explained calmly; not wanting to make Kirishima panic even more. Kirishima's eyes widened, but he feverishly nodded. 

“I was walking with Mina and Kaminari when we found Present Mic”, Kirishima began, “that’s when we heard this loud crash and the floor started trembling. Present Mic told us to stay close to him...he told us everything was going to be fine but everyone started panicking and screaming and next thing I knew Mina and I were separated. I tried to join Present Mic and Kaminari but they were far away and I saw them fighting two people and I - I couldn’t go because of the crowd - I just couldn’t…”

“Kirishima, please, calm down,” Shouta instructed, “you did good in trying to find me. Nothing here is your fault, I want you to understand that. I need you and Mina to go join Sero and Jirou. They are by the entrance of the mall and should be helping a pro hero. I’ll go help Hiz- Present Mic and Kaminari. Understood?”

Thankfully, Kirishima and Mina were quicker in accepting their new roles. Mina wished him luck before dragging Kirishima towards the entrance of the mall. Shouta regained his pace and grew concerned when it became eerily quiet. 

As he reached nearly the end of the building, a sudden wave of lightning blinded him. He was then met by a whole body crashing into him. Shouta felt out of breath and a sharp pain on his chest as he fell with the other person. 

Shouta grunted and felt his legs shake violently as he stood up. He immediately recognized the figure next to him; helping them up as they struggled. 

“Kaminari, are you alright?” Shouta asked, looking for any noticeable injuries. Kaminari nodded, but his eyes were filled with terror.

“Yes, b-but…” Kaminari choked, tears threatening to escape. 

“It’s okay,” Shouta assured, awkwardly side-hugging his student. He never knew how to comfort someone, but damn him if he didn’t try his best for his students. 

“Present Mic - he…”

“Present Mic? Did something happen?” Aizawa questioned, noticing the desperate tone in his voice. He cursed himself for the incessant questions, secretly hoping it didn’t worsen Kaminari’s panic. 

“He was protecting me when one of them just separated us-“ 

Kaminari was interrupted by a glass wall shattering near them from a store. Shouta quickly covered Kaminari as he saw Hizashi struggling with someone else. Every time the person took another step, the ground around them would shake. So this is the person responsible for the attack. 

Shouta swiftly used his scarf to move Kaminari out of the way and grabbed the criminal simultaneously. The assailant, puzzled, looked at the white fabric around him, but soon bore his eyes towards Shouta. 

Shouta looked back at him; undeterred. How dare he mess with my students? How dare he mess with...him? 

“Shouta!” Hizashi yelled, approaching his friend with a small smile. Shouta couldn’t look back due to the usage of his quirk on the delinquent, but he knew Hizashi would understand. They’ve been doing patrols together for years and learned how to communicate through various situations. 

Shouta dragged the criminal towards him and tied them up properly for the authorities. He could sense Hizashi lingering near him - talking to Kaminari.

“I was told there were two people,” Shouta said, waiting for an answer as the captured criminal wrestled to be let loose. 

“The other one vanished before I could do anything,” Hizashi explained, sighing deeply, “but I have a feeling he has a teleportation quirk so that makes him very dangerous.” 

“Well, we best make sure to catch him before-“ 

Shouta wasn’t able to finish his statement before it happened. Everything occurred so quickly it left Shouta in a daze of confusion and despair. 

He first heard two notable gasps and his head instantly turned towards the sound. Between Kaminari and Present Mic stood a stranger who Shouta assumed was the missing assailant. 

Everything went crashing down from there. 

The man was holding a knife and pointed it at Kaminari. Shouta instinctively used his quirk, but it was no use against a weapon that didn’t rely on a quirk. A simple knife was all it took to cause such damage. 

Before the villain could plunge the knife into Kaminari - Present Mic acted quickly and pushed the kid aside. He stood in the place Kaminari was at when it all happened. 

Shouta doesn’t remember screaming, but the ache in his throat suggests otherwise. He just remembered his body acting before he could think and made sure the criminal couldn’t use his quirk. The criminal was clearly shocked when they couldn’t teleport away and prepared to fight Shouta. 

Shouta has dealt with many villains before, and this man was the same as all those petty ones that fought against him. The man was bound similarly to the other criminal, but something compelled Shouta to hurl the villain towards a wall with all his strength. He knew it was completely unnecessary, and perhaps stupid, given that the villain is now unconscious and can’t speak - but his anger blinded him. 

“Mr. Aizawa!” Kaminari shouted, carefully holding an injured Present Mic on his lap. The pro hero looked miserable as his face twitched in pain. 

Shouta just stood frozen in shock. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Hizashi’s state. On the contrary, he knew he cared too much for his best friend. He’s seen his friend injured before, but never this close to death. That knife landed close to Hizashi’s neck and could have hit something fatal. 

He could have lost another friend. He could have lost someone he loved. 

His heart stopped for a brief moment at the realization. He...loved Hizashi. 

No, no, this isn’t the time Shouta. It became difficult to balance himself but Shouta didn’t realize he was moving until he was standing in front of Kaminari and Present Mic. The boy looked up at him - breathing heavily as he tried to soothe his teacher. 

Hizashi was sweating profusely from his forehead, and his eyes were shut in agony. Shouta knelt down and delicately placed his hand above Hizashi’s arms. The blonde hero was startled by the sudden touch and attempted to open his eyes but the lights tormented them. 

“Don’t move too much, Hizashi,” Shouta instructed softly, moving his hands to caress Hizashi’s hair. Through his side view Shouta saw Kaminari shift awkwardly, probably thinking he’s interfering in a personal moment. Shouta would have reserved his actions after Kaminari left, but seeing Hizashi in such a grave state made him forget about anything around him. 

From a close distance, Shouta heard the sound of sirens and officers roaming around the building. He knew they would handle the criminals as soon as they saw them. Shouta quietly gestured for Kaminari to go join the other students. As he expected, Kaminari hesitated at first, but soon realized it was not only for his safety - but for Shouta to be alone with Hizashi. Kaminari gently placed Hizashi’s head on Shouta’s lap before leaving to join his friends. “Don’t be too harsh on him,” Kaminari said abruptly before he left - not allowing Shouta to respond. 

Shouta turned his attention to Hizashi, who was looking back at him with an eye smile. Shouta softly chuckled - noting that even as he’s heavily injured Hizashi always shined bright. 

“Why did you do that? They could’ve killed you,” Shouta whispered, still caressing his dear friend’s hair. 

“You…” Hizashi began, struggling to speak through his raspy voice. “You love them so much, Shouta...I wanted to protect that love too.”

Shouta’s breath hitched and his eyes widened in shock. He felt tears forming on his eyes as he placed a hand on Hizashi’s cheek. 

“...and also because I am a hero and it’s my job.” 

Way to ruin the special moment, idiot. 

But he’s the idiot I love. 

Shouta snorted, with Hizashi joining him. They both laid down in silence, ignoring the world around them. 

Only a few minutes passed before a first responder interrupted their moment of peace. Shouta hesitated before letting Hizashi go, but he knew it was for Hizashi’s safety. 

As Hizashi was being placed on the ambulance, Shouta contemplated his feelings. It was uncharacteristic of him to express his feelings in public, but Hizashi could have died. 

He could have died without knowing how Shouta felt. 

As the ambulance door was closing, Shouta forcefully kept it open with his arms. The paramedic looked at him baffled, but Shouta ignored him. 

“Hizashi, when you get out of the hospital, do you want to go out to dinner with me?” 

Hizashi’s body shot up, and the blonde hero locked his eyes at Shouta. 

“Are you seriously asking me out on a date inside an ambulance?” 

Shouta looked back sheepishly. “...Yes. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Hizashi’s eyes glowed, and he practically squealed as he jumped up and down in excitement. 

“Shouta, of course I’ll want to!” 

Speechless, Shouta released his hands from the door, prompting the paramedic to finally close it. He couldn’t help but hide the wide grin from his face with his binding cloth. 

Now, how am I going to make Hizashi fall for me?

(A/N: Oh Shouta, he already did.)

[onthepageoftears]

Kill Your Darlings Ch. 19 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Second to last chapter! Let’s goooo!

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: What you know is not necessarily the truth.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of death/killing/kidnapping, mentions of blood, ANGST, gore/violence, manipulation, language, pain, DID I MENTION ANGST??

Words: 3,480

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Furious couldn’t even begin to describe the way you felt.

Even though you were practically jumping out of your skin, for some reason in the moment you were paralyzed in your spot. Watching the guards grip Jaskier’s arms like he was just another piece of meat, watching Rauf roughly let go of his chin, making his head fall over his chest once more—

You wanted to pounce, but you knew you had to strategize. Acting on instinct was not the way to go right now, and you needed to keep a level head.

“I’m very happy for you company, bard, but I was having a lovely conversation with my niece. Which reminds me.” Rauf turned back to you with a knowing look. “Before you try anything, I’m going to need that knife from your boot.”

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. How could he have known?

Rauf laughed, ”Please. Do you really not remember who taught you that trick?”

Biting back a vicious remark, you reached down and took the knife from your boot, handing it to him with the best glare you could muster. You had never wanted to punch your uncle so badly.

He placed it gently down on his desk in the midst of unorganized papers. “Rules are made for a reason, Y/N. I thought I taught you that when you were young.”

You scoffed, “You also taught me that rules only attempt to hold back those stronger than the authority that is trying to subdue them.”

Rauf nodded appreciatively, “That does sound like me, doesn’t it?”

His lighthearted tone made your stomach swirl. How could he be so casual in a situation like this? How could he pretend like nothing was wrong?

You watched him carefully in the dimly lit room. The lantern atop his desk flickered beside him, its illumination casting shadows along his face. For a moment, you didn’t recognize him at all.

“Why are you doing this?” You said once you finally trusted your own voice.

Rauf shook his head, “Were you not listening? Consequences must be shown for your actions. We’ve all learned from our mistakes, and so should you.”

Rauf placed a hand on your shoulder once again, and you had to practically bite off the tip of your tongue so you wouldn’t push him away. His touch sent fire along your skin, but not the same as with Jaskier. This made the bones in your body tense with fury.

“Consequences for what? It wasn’t a mistake. I told you, he’s innocent.”  You lowered your voice, “We don’t kill the innocent.”

Rauf sighed. The way he shook his head made you even more uneasy.

You nearly stepped back,“What? What is that face for?”

Rauf clicked his tongue, “Now is the best time to break the news, I suppose.”

“What? What…news?” You could feel your eyes widen in anticipation.

“The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code.”

This time, you actually did step back, “It’s—no longer…what?”

“There’s a reason why we aren’t called vigilantes, Y/N.” He tilted his head slightly, “Why do you think business has been so good? Why do you think we got this new guild?”

“I—no, you didn’t—“ You brought a hand to your forehead as if that would help you collect your thoughts. All you could say was, “We…don’t kill innocents.”

Rauf’s eyes softened at the shock on your face, “Everyone has some evil in them, Y/N. We just…don’t ask what exactly that evil is anymore.”

Your heart was pounding so viciously you thought it might explode. The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code. The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code. The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code. Since when? How long had you been kept in the dark about this change? And why had no one told you? Said anything?

You were staring at the floor beneath Rauf’s feet when you spoke, “How many innocents did you have me kill?”

“Would knowing really make you feel better?”

You hesitated. In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t. But your feelings didn’t matter. What mattered were the innocent lives you were possibly responsible for taking.

Your mind found itself back to your fight with Joneta. You claimed the same thing you always did, something you believed in wholeheartedly — the thing that you now knew was a lie: We don’t kill the innocent. And then she responded: You don’t kill the innocent.

She knew all along. She knew that Rauf was lying to you — had been lying to you, for much too long. And she didn’t even bother saying anything.

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“Y/N?” You whipped your head to the side, where Jaskier had lifted his head to look at you. He was conscious, barely. With him looking at you face-on, you breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t beat him up too bad — there was blood on his skin and clothes, but only some bruising on his face.

You sent Jaskier a look, hoping he’d get the hint to stay quiet. He did, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at the guards that held him.

Behind his glare, you could see the fear he was harboring. Seeing him like that made your blood boil.

You gritted your teeth as you turned to Rauf, “You were lying this whole time.”

“It was necessary—“

“For who?” You didn’t let him answer, “Lying to me made your life easier. Not mine.”

“There are many things that you would thank me for keeping from you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Rauf shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t understand you, Y/N. You owe nothing to this man. We kill for a living. Innocent or not, this is how it has always been. You wouldn’t be this angry unless you—” He watched you for a moment, confusion turning to realization. “No, you don’t.”

Your chest heaved as you practically fumed in your spot, not trusting yourself to respond to his words.

But you didn’t need to. Rauf leaned forward to look into your eyes, “You wouldn’t be this mad unless you were in love with him.”

The words sliced into you like a knife. Love? No. Could you? Was that why, all this time, you put so much energy into this assignment? It definitely wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even like at first sight. You did want to kill him. But over time…that changed. You cared for him unlike anyone you’d ever known. But was that the only reason this mattered to you? Because you were in love?

No. That wasn’t why. You cared about this because it was wrong. Rauf was wrong.

You moved your eyes back to Rauf, who was now standing in front of you, “I don’t have to love him to know this is wrong.”

“But you do.” His eyes weren’t as angry anymore — they softened as he turned away and leaned against his desk. “Love can do dangerous things, Y/N. I…I would know.”

You practically rolled your eyes. What would your uncle know about love? Besides spending nights at brothels and seducing the local farmer’s wife, Rauf didn’t have much experience with romantic relationships. And you really didn’t know if you could sit through a fleeting sob story while Jaskier practically gasped for breath.

“I’ve kept the truth from you about my past. Your past.”

You frowned. What the fuck was he talking about?

“I was selfish to keep the truth from you. About everything.” He continued, “But now I see that you need to know. Especially now.”

He gestured to Jaskier, who had his head down again.

You blinked, “Know what?”

“What I told you about your parent’s death was not entirely true.”

Your whole body went stiff. It felt like the air in the room was gone; like you could practically feel the blood rushing through your body, practically feel the beat of your heart in your ears. You didn’t even know what Rauf was going to say, but you felt the urge to scream and grab Jaskier, just so you would never have to find out.

But you stayed put.

Rauf avoided your gaze. “Your mother was a kind woman. She was smart and beautiful and talented in more ways than one. She had your father’s heart, and many other men’s. Including…mine.

“My frequent visits to your village weren’t always to see your father, though he was still a good friend of mine. Which made it hurt more that I fell in love with his wife."

You blinked, trying to register his words. “You and my mom…” You shook your head, “No.”

Rauf sighed, “Yes. Your father worked way overtime, and when I would visit, we would spend time together while you played outside. It’s why you never realized, I suppose.

“After a while, I knew I was in love. I wanted to be with your mother, forever, to call her my own. And your father was rarely ever home. You both could be with me, and I wouldn’t take you for granted like your father did.

“When I told your mother this…she didn’t like it. She cursed at me, told me to leave her for good. Even after what we’d been through, how much love we shared, she said she couldn’t just leave your father.”

The horror was clear on your face as you spoke, “So you killed him.”

Rauf nodded, only then meeting your gaze. When he saw the disgust on your face, he stood up from the desk with a huff, “Don’t look at me like that. Do you know what I did for you? What I had to do to teach you how to survive in a world like ours? You of all people should know how this feels. You killed your best friend for a bard that doesn’t give two shits about you.”

“Y/N, don’t listen to him—“ A gust of breath was forced out of Jaskier as the guard beside him punched him in the gut.

Rauf’s voice pulled your attention from Jaskier, “I couldn’t learn one of the most important lessons — to kill the people who love you most, before they destroy a part of you.”

Your mind was reeling. “Wait—“ You shook your head, almost not believing his words, “If my father didn’t kill my mother, and you didn’t kill my mother…”

When Rauf didn’t answer, you answered for him, “My mother is alive?”

“Yes.”

Your eyes widened as you stepped forward, pushing against your uncle’s chest. “All these years, and my mother was alive? You…you kidnapped me!”

“Y/N—“

“How dare you?” You hit him harder, but he barely moved. “How dare you?”

“She wouldn’t have been able to take care of you on her own—“

“Because you killed my father!” By now, you were screaming. “Do you really think you were right? That this was the best possible outcome?”

“I did what was best for you.” He placed his hands on your shaking shoulders, “I raised you like my own. Taught you everything I learned and didn’t learn.”

Your tone was venomous, “You still haven’t learned a lot.”

“And neither have you. You killed one of your own for a bard you barely know.” Your stomach flopped at his words, “I was always right by your side. Joneta was too. Because that is what we do. That is the fellowship. We stick by our own. But this time…you didn’t. You turned your back — and worse, you stabbed Joneta in hers.”

You blinked incredulously, not even noticing the tears that fell down your face. Suddenly, it felt like a weight was placed on your entire body. You felt tired. And now, with Rauf wiping the tears from your cheeks, you felt like a little kid again. You felt…comfort, despite all the shit you just heard. It was like none of it mattered — all you could think about were Joneta’s lifeless eyes staring back at you, judging you.

Rauf spoke quietly, and for a moment, you forgot there was anyone else in the room. “I’m trying to help you not make any more mistakes, Y/N. Because I came back from mine, and I want you to come back from yours.”

You only frowned at his words, still trying to wrap your head around everything that you had just learned.

Rauf kept his hands on your shoulders when another guard burst through the door. They barely hesitated when they saw the scene before them, “Sir, someone broke into the guild. We think — we think it’s the witcher.”

Rauf’s eyes immediately found yours, a look of betrayal traced across his features. But you were too busy focusing on your racing thoughts to care.

“Take care of it,” Rauf said, turning back to his desk with a huff. The guard left, closing the door and leaving you all to stand in the air thick with tension.

But soon, Rauf broke the silence, “I want what’s best for you, Y/N. I want you to see what I am trying to tell you from my mistakes. People like this—“ He gestured to the bard, who was now pleading you with his eyes. You avoided his gaze as Rauf continued, “They only hold you back. They don’t help you. They hurt. They make you someone you aren’t. Someone you don’t recognize.

“I raised you like my own child. And every father lies to their child to protect them. And to protect you, I need you to do something, to learn what I never did.” He was in front of you now, the regret etched on his face. He took one of your hands and placed your knife’s handle in your palm, wrapping your fingers around it for you. With a short nod, he told you what he wanted you to do.

You turned towards Jaskier, who was watching you with wide eyes.

The bard wasn’t afraid. He was…sad. Tired. Pleading. His eyes reminded you of your own. Broken. And as you stepped toward him, you couldn’t help but think about the way he looked at you before. The smiles, the grazed touches. The fear when you first met, to the annoyance, to the pleasant smiles whenever you relented and joked with him. You had been through so much in such a short amount of time — a time that Rauf wanted you to end.

Jaskier watched you, looked over your face, over the conflicting emotions you showed with only a glance, and then he nodded. He accepted what you needed to do to him. He understood.

You blinked and gripped the knife tighter in your hand as realization took over. This wasn’t about Jaskier, it was about you. It was always about you.

“I’m sorry,” you felt yourself saying, the pain in your voice clear.

Jaskier continued to watch you with knowing eyes — the eyes you had grown to love, the eyes you wished you would never have to live without. He fought to keep his head up, to look at you. But now, you weren’t focusing on him. Your eyes weren’t focused on anything, because they were blurred with tears. Tears for Jaskier. Tears for your uncle. Tears for yourself.

And then you plunged the knife right into his heart.

You ignored the way the warm blood seeped out of the wound and onto your hand, instead focusing on his eyes. They were wide with surprise, just as his mouth was. It was almost like he would yell at you if only he could form the words.

But you didn’t give Rauf the chance. Instead, you ripped the knife from his heart, and as he slumped to the ground, you pivoted and threw the knife to Jaskier’s left, hitting the guard right in the eye.

But you couldn’t focus on that victory. Instead, the other guard was coming towards you now, abandoning Jaskier, who leaned against a nearby wall. Your knife being stuck in the first guard’s eye left you weaponless, so you grabbed the closest thing. 

You smashed the lantern from Rauf’s desk into the bigger man’s head — he was barely fazed. He launched at you, reaching his hands towards your neck. Despite the pain in your leg, you dodged his attack, slipping under his arms and landing just beside him. As he nearly fell into the desk that was behind you, you took advantage of his disorientation — with one swift movement, you kicked your good leg into the back of his knee, causing him to fall to the ground. Without hesitating, you grabbed the back of his head by his hair and smashed it into the edge of the wooden desk, once, twice, three times, until his face was unrecognizable. Then, you smashed it again for good luck.

With heaving breaths, you turned towards Rauf, who lay on the floor with his eyes glazed over. It looked like there was a small flicker of light in his eyes still; his mouth was slightly agape in surprise, and you almost felt like he would say something.

Your heart clenched at the sight of your uncle, but the feeling was quickly replaced with anger. He killed your father. He took you from your mother. Kidnapped you. Turned you into a monster. You were about to walk over and kick his defenseless body when he spoke.

“Y/N?” You frowned. The voice was full of fear, but it wasn’t Rauf’s. You snapped your head back to where Jaskier was leaning a hand against the door. His other hand was clutching his stomach — but it was covered in blood.

“Julian?” Your voice felt distant as you ran just in time to catch him from hitting the ground. You lowered him slowly, trying to balance him in your shaky hands. “No. No, Julian.”

He frowned, as if confused at the pain he felt.

“Jaskier don’t you fucking dare, you hear me?” You ripped the edge of your shirt and tried to tie it around his waist, but it wasn’t long enough. “You weren’t supposed to — shit.”

Ignoring the way your body shook, you crawled over to the dead guard and ripped the pants from his legs. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to get the fabric wrapped around Jaskier pretty quickly.

“Why did you take the knife out? Who even stabbed you? Fuck.” There was so much blood. It was all over your hands, already seeping through the makeshift wrapping. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to do.

“Y/N.” Your wild eyes met Jaskier’s — he was losing consciousness, but his mouth was open like he wanted to speak. You did the first thing you could think of.

You slapped him across the face, not too hard, and his eyes widened in confusion. “Sorry, sorry. But you have to stay awake. You can’t leave me.”

You let your hand rest against his cheek, nearly melting at the way he leaned into your touch. You kept your other hand on his wound, despite the blood coating your fingers.

“I’m not going to leave you, darling.” He reached up and wiped a tear from your face. “I want to kiss you,” he said, but all you could see was the fading in his eyes, the clouds that began to form over his blue orbs.

“No. No—“ You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. Warmth erupted in your chest, battling with the fire that spilled from your veins. Jaskier’s fingers threaded into your hair, grazing your scalp as his lips moved with your own. But almost as soon as he responded, his motions went still. You pulled back, watching his hand fall from your head.

“No, no, no Julian wake up—"

The door swung open, but you didn’t bother looking up from Jaskier’s face. You moved your hand from the side of his face, pressing it against the wound on his stomach. The taste of his lips lingered on your own as you screamed in distress, watching the tears from your face fall onto your blood-covered hands.

Geralt kneeled down on the opposite side of Jaskier’s body.

“He’s not dead. He’s not dead, Geralt—“

Geralt nodded, “No, he isn’t. But his heartbeat is slowing.” Clearly, his words didn’t calm you. You choked on a sob, shaking your head as you pressed your hands harder into the wound. “Y/N, listen to me. I know someone who can help him, but we have to go now. You have to trust me.”

You looked back at the witcher, not bothering to wipe away your painful tears. Moving Jaskier was a risk, but leaving him there was an even bigger one.

With one last sob, you nodded your head and let the witcher pick him up.

———————————————————————————————————

:)))) sorry :))

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

One for the Books ~ CEO!Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Hello my lovelies! So this is the CEO!Bucky story I teased a few weeks ago. This is my second entry for this prompt for @captainscanadian CBC 1k Challenge. Go check out AJ because she’s awesome and congratulations on your milestone love! I love you! 

Summary: You’ve worked for Bucky for ten years, when the anniversary rolls around you’re in for a surprise 

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Peggy 

Rating: K+

Warnings: Nothing? 

Word count:  2833

The rumor mill in high school could only be rivaled by the corporate one.

“Hey, boss lady, you heard the latest?” Shuri asked as she settled into the seat across from you.

“About what?”

“That Tony Stark is interested in absorbing the company?”

You chuckled and returned to the author report you’d been reviewing.

“That’s old news, Shuri. Tony Stark has made many offers over our ten year run.”

“Yeah, but none of his offers have gotten him in the door,” she hinted.

That got your attention and you looked up at her in surprise.

“Are you telling me Tony Stark is here?”

“Meeting with Barnes and Rogers as we speak.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s the talk of the office of course. Plus MJ confirmed it.”

“Well I’m sure it’s nothing to get worked up about,” you replied calmly. Though internally you were compiling a long list of questions for the publishing house CEO.

“I know,” she scoffed. “It’s just funny to listen to everyone speculate.”

“Did Peter say anything to MJ?”

“I’ll interrogate her over lunch. While you interrogate Mr. Barnes.”

“Agreed,” you chuckled. “What’s on the schedule for today?”

“You have lunch with our in house attorney, and a meeting with the editing team. And then you’re free for the rest of the day.”

“Excellent, please keep it that way.”

“You’ve got it.”

You couldn’t help but take a moment to admire your boss, his blue suit jacket was hanging over the back of his chair, but he still had his wide striped tie in place and his sleeves rolled up. He looked sharp and hard working. Like always.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked without looking up and you jolted.

“So sorry, Mr. Barnes. You’re just so handsome,” you let out a long sigh which was only slightly exaggerated.  

He rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips.

“In that case. Please come in. Take a closer look.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Pushing off the doorjamb, you closed the door and took the seat opposite him. After carefully marking his place in the manuscript he’d been reviewing, he folded his hands underneath his chin, giving you his full attention.

“So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“I can’t just pop in and say hi to my favorite boss?” You asked innocently.

“You could, but his office is next door. So what’s on your mind?”

“I ran into Tony on my way to lunch with Peggy,” you explained.

He ahhed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair.  

“So that’s what this is about.”

You shrugged.

“Can’t help my curiosity.”

“I wouldn’t expect you too. I assume the office gossip is that I’m selling.”

“Yes. I’m just trying to decide if I want to jump ship before or after the sale.”

“No such luck. Tony came by to thank me.”

“Thank you for what?”

In lieu of answering, he simply pushed the manuscript across to you. It only took a few pages for you to recognize the piece.

“What does this have to do with Tony Stark? Does he think we poached one of his writers?”

“After your glowing review of the work and my own positive notes, Steve and I met with the author the other day, in private.”

You squinted at him, knowing he was dragging out a big reveal.  

“And who is it that we’re taking on?”

“One Morgan Stark.”

“Little Morgan wrote this? She’s terribly talented.”

“I agree. She wanted some feedback so she gave it to Steve.”

“Figured he’d be more objective than daddy dearest?”

“Something like that. Steve loved it, but wasn’t sure he was objective so much he sent it over to me and you know the rest.”

“So we’re signing her?”

He grinned and nodded.

“What did Tony have to say about that?” You asked, flipping through the pages once more.

“Like I said he wanted to thank me for signing Morgan. He agreed it was for the best that she be represented by someone else.”

“Less risk of her getting dinged by reviewers for being published by her dad.”

“Exactly. And he knows that we’ll be good to her. He respects that. So he wanted to come by and say so in person. Morgan has apparently been beaming since we sent her the offer.”

“That’s so sweet. I’d like to work with her personally if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. I’m sure she’d like that. And you’re the best we have.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Barnes.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

He offered you his most charming smile, and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Are you looking forward to the party tonight?”

“I am. I was thinking I’d have other plans, but they never came together.”

“Our gain.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re busy. I’d best leave you to it.”

“Before you go, I have a request.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?”

“There’s a board meeting today at four. I’d like you to attend.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Any particular reason?”

His smile turned mischievous.

“I’m not at liberty to say just yet. You’ll see at the meeting.”

“Keep your secrets then. I will see you at four.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You glared lightly at his obvious delight, before shaking your head and leaving his office.

Stepping out of the town car that night, you smiled at the sight of the familiar restaurant. You knew the owners quite well, having worked there through college and frequenting it for many years afterward. You’d been thrilled when it was announced as the location for the company’s tenth anniversary party.  

A low whistle caught your attention and you turned to see none other than James Barnes grinning at you wolfishly.

Repressing the urge to roll your eyes, you looked back to the entrance of the restaurant.

“Good evening, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Good evening, y/n. If I may say so, that is a knockout dress. I’ve always liked that color on you.”

“Thank you,” you glanced down, momentarily admiring the smooth cobalt satin of your dress, while hiding your clear reaction to his words. Whenever he paid you a compliment you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach. “You look very handsome,” you finally permitted yourself to take a good look at him. “But your tie is crooked.”

You reached over and straightened his tie which by chance matched your dress.

“There. Now you’re presentable.”

He grinned down at you, as your hands rested on his chest.

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.”

“You’re probably right. Now, may I escort you inside?”

“You may.”

He tucked your arm into the crook of his elbow and started up the stairs.

There was a soft buzz in the event room, the employees you’d grown to consider family were milling about with their families, chatting. You smiled at MJ and her boyfriend Peter chatting with Shuri and her older brother, T’Challa.

“Bucky, Y/n, over here,” Steve called, waving you over to his table where he was sitting with Peggy.

“Hi, Stevie,” you greeted him with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, darling,” Peggy smiled as squeezed your hand and pulled you into the seat next to her. “James.”

“Peggy, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Wine, Y/n?” James offered.

“Please,” you nodded.

“So how are you feeling after the meeting?” Steve asked as he rested his arm along the back of Peggy’s chair.

“I’m thrilled. I can’t wait to get started on the project. Thank you for supporting it.”

“My pleasure. We’ve wanted to do it for so long. I’m just glad we’re big enough to do it now.”

“For you,” James smiled as he placed the wine in front of you. “And there’s some people who wanted to speak with you.”

George and Winifred Barnes were standing a few feet behind James.

“Hello, darling.”

“George, Winnie, it’s so good to see you,” you hugged them tightly. “I’m so glad you could be here to celebrate the company with us.”

“We wouldn’t miss it. We’re so proud of what you’ve all built.”

“James and Steve are really the brains behind the operation.”

“Yes, but you’re the heart,” Winnie insisted as she held onto your hands. “James is lucky to have you.”

You glanced over at him, he was watching you with a warm smile.

“I’m lucky to have him too. I’m so glad you’re here,” you exclaimed hugging her tightly once more.

Winifred had been a second mother to you since you met James in college. You absolutely adored her, and she adored you. But seeing her and George here to celebrate James’ accomplishments made you miss your own parents.

“Do we get such a warm welcome?”

You turned to see your parents.

“Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?” You asked as you launched yourself at them, hugging them tightly, holding back tears.

“James flew us for the anniversary. He wanted to surprise you.”

“They should be here to celebrate with us,” James insisted when you looked at him with wide eyes.  

“Thank you, James.”

You kissed him on the cheek after hugging him.

“You’re very welcome, doll. Does this put me in contention for favorite boss?” He wondered.

You regarded him carefully before looking over at Steve who arched an eyebrow at you.

“Nope. Still Steve,” you smirked.  

“Damn it,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “I’ll get there someday.”

“I doubt that,” Steve guffawed, earning him a smack from Peggy.

“You keep trying, James.”

You realized then that both sets of parents were watching you closely and you decided to take the attention off of you.

“Well, I do believe dinner will be served soon so we should probably take our seats.”

“Yes. We should,” James agreed, holding out your chair for you, before taking the seat next to you.

Dinner was absolutely delicious. Of course you were biased considering it was your favorite restaurant. But the company certainly could not be beaten; you were with nearly all of the most important people in your life.

After dessert, your favorite, it was time for speeches. Steve and James prepared to take the stage.

“Do I look okay?” James asked.

You beckoned him down with a finger to straighten his tie once again. He never could manage to keep it straight.

“Now you do.”

“Thanks.”

The pair took the stage to a standing ovation. You couldn’t help but beam. Their employees loved them, and they deserved it.

“Thank you, thank you,” Steve announced, his voice carrying his easily through the room. “Please sit. Fifteen years ago, Bucky and I dreamed of opening our own publishing company to help give the wonderful young writers in this country a chance at getting their stories heard. And ten years ago we were able to make that happen.”

“In the decade since,” Bucky continued smoothly continuing the speech. Their synchronicity was something you’d always admired about them. “With offices and authors all over the world we have achieved more than anything we could have dreamed of. And that is due entirely to all of you, our employees and their families who have supported us over the past decade. So thank you. Barnes and Rogers publishing would not exist without you. Please give yourselves a round of applause.”

They both clapped, thanking the room of people. When it naturally died down, Steve stepped forward once again to speak.

“Of course we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge the amazing people who have been here since the beginning and to let you know a little about some exciting future projects. So I personally would like to thank my beautiful wife Peggy. You know her as our in house attorney, but she has been the driving force in my life since I met her. Not only does she make sure we don’t get ourselves into too much trouble,” he winked, making Peggy roll her eyes. You squeezed her hand knowingly. “She makes sure that our authors are completely protected. We would not be comfortable doing this without you and I would not be brave enough to do this without you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she mouthed back.  

“Now, looking to our future, we are proud to announce that in our goal to help young writers. We will be starting a mentorship program for aspiring writers of any age. The aim of the project is to help hone their craft and to give them the resources to approach publishers and match them with the right publishing house.” There were murmurs of approval over the plan throughout the room. “Our goal is to remove one of the most daunting parts of the publishing process, after actually writing the darn book,” he joked earning a chuckle from the crowd.

Someone cheered and soon applause broke out again.

“We are so glad that you are all so excited about this project,” Bucky spoke when it calmed. “And as much as Steve and I wish we could take credit for the idea, but this dream belongs to someone else in this room, our chief editor, Y/n. Can you please come up here?”

When you didn’t immediately move, Peggy prodded you.

“Go.”

Shaking away your confusion, you stood and approached the stage. James held out his hand to escort you up the few steps.

“What many of you, I think all of you know, is that Y/n has been with this company since day one. Actually since before day one. Her dream has always been to help anyone who wanted to write be able to use their voice. After five years working for another major publishing house, she chose to help Steve and I open this company and has since worked personally with every author we have published. She will be stepping down as chief editor to head up our new program and I could not be more proud or more grateful. Please give her a round of applause.”

Everyone clapped. Shuri, MJ, and Peter cheered loudly and you giggled at them.

“On a personal note, I owe Y/n my thanks. For everything she has done for me since the day that I met her. I would not be the man I am today without her. I also owe her an apology for fooling her into thinking that I for one moment forgot that ten years ago today, she made me the happiest man in the entire world by marrying me.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you shook your head at your husband. “I wanted to surprise you with this party tonight, because I wanted all of the people you loved to be in the room to celebrate the past ten years of our marriage and the rest of our lives that are stretching out ahead of us. Of course I think there are two people who are missing. So let’s remedy that.”

“Mama!”

You turned as Natasha, your best friend, stepped into sight carrying your two year old son and holding your five year old daughter’s hand.

Gracie ran to you as soon as she saw you hugging you before scrambling over to her father who settled her on his hip. Natasha followed and handed you Jamie who you immediately cooed at. His bright blue eyes stared back at you as he giggled.

“There we are,” James announced. “Now, Gracie, are you going to help me ask your mama a question?”

“Yeah!”

The room chuckled.

“And what is that question?” you asked, crying.

“Mama.”

“Yes, baby.”

“Will you marry daddy again?”

“Yes, of course.”

He leaned forward and kissed you passionately.

“I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you more, James.”

“You are one sneaky bastard, James Barnes,” you accused as you danced after renewing your vows in front of all of your family and friends. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“You deserve the world, Y/n. When we got married, all I could give you was a courthouse wedding. But now I can give you what you deserve.”

“You’re all I’ve ever needed, James.”

“And you’re all I ever wanted. Thank you for marrying me, y/n.”

“Twice.”

“Twice,” he chuckled leaning down to kiss you. “Now, how do you feel about a first honeymoon?”

“I think I could be persuaded.”

“We leave tomorrow. Two weeks in Hawaii. Just the two of us.”

“What about the kids?” you asked.

He pulled you close so he could whisper in your ear.

“Why do you think I invited the grandparents?”

Giggling you shook your head and kissed him for the millionth time.

“You know, you’re still not my favorite boss,” you told him with a serious look.

He rolled his eyes and twirled you away and back in, before dipping you.

“As long as I’m your favorite husband,” he informed you, kissing your forehead and pulling you back into his arms.

“Always,” you agreed.

~~~~~ End 

A/n: So yeah, surprise! lol I hope you all enjoyed. Thanks for reading. Congrats again, AJ! I love you!! 

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[wonderlander-i]

Happily Ever After

Pairing : Oliver x F! MC

Warnings : none ( well it's not like I can write anything NSFW I'm such a disaster 😂)

Word count : 1.9k

Author's note : I didn't play distant shores just to spend the rest of my life between theatres and parties only because I'm a thot for Oliver. Hell naw.

Here's a quick rewriting for the diamond scene because I got extra emotional today and I'm not ready for the finale!

Also this is a repost because the tags weren't working on my original post is this normal?

“Now what” Oliver locked his eyes with her, gently taking her hand his.

“We could always be the high society couple and settle in London” She smiled widely, covering the back of his hand with her palm.

“I doubt that’s what you want to do” He arched an eyebrow

“How about we run away?” She smirked, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“I guess I should pack some extra pants then” He grinned, kissing the back of her hand.

-

“A feisty one, isn’t she?” An old sailor smiled, wiping the sweat of his forehead with a dirty cloth.

Oliver chuckled at the sight of Evelyn standing in the center of the deck of their new ship giving orders to the men around her to move and put things in the places she desired.

“Aye, she’d boss his majesty the king around if she’d got the chance to”

“Didn’t she persuade him to make her an ambassador of England?”

“She’s quite the charmer” He shook his head, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re a lucky man, ya know?” The man patted Oliver’s shoulder before walking away to carry on with his work.

At this moment, Evelyn turned her head in his direction, beaming. She smiled warmly at him. Her smile held a hundred words of unspoken promises, of eternal happiness, and of wishful dreams of sailing together to the unknown and never turning back. And in that crowded place, between all the bustling movements, the loud upbeat chatters, and crashing of the waves, nothing mattered to him except keeping that grin drawn on her face forever.

“The luckiest” He thought to himself.

-

“Where are you taking us” Oliver asked as she dragged him through the alleys of a busy market in a village. The rich smell of sweet and spice tickled his nose as he looked around to the million colors that surrounded them, like they were escaping from a painting, coming to life.

“Patience, Oliver” She giggled, her voice barely reached him above all the sounds of the merchants calling out their merchandise and the children playing, still running and parkouring between the food stands and the rolls of silk.

He shook his head, the corners of his lips turning up as he took in the beautiful traditional emerald green dress that she wore. She was utterly fascinated by the fashion of the world in their era. She wanted to try everything, to experience everything. Her eyes lit up with the brightest glimmer at every clothing shop they came across and he swore to himself to order her a traditional dress from every country they were sent to next. She always found her surprises wrapped in a beautiful box under her bed, and the way she’d dance in it around the room made him wonder, how could happiness be only one piece of fabric away?

Shaking his head to chase his thoughts away, his eyes widened when they emerged into a larger alley which led to a golden temple. Majestic, bold, and his books could never do he view in front of him justice. She stopped running and turned to face him, her hair flying around her like every strand of it danced to the rhythm of the overflowing music bursting from everywhere, studying his curious expressions with satisfaction.

“Well, this is worth almost tripping on a basket of cumin” He stated.

-

“Evelyn?” Oliver called calmly as he studied a letter with the scarlet royal seal on it. Sitting at his desk in his study room, he patiently tapped his fingers on the wooden surface until she appeared by the doorframe.

“Yes darling?” She stepped up behind him with two steamy cups of tea in her hands.

“Some papers came while you were out” He spread the letter on the table in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Would you explain why this says that you had been assigned as a navigator on my ship?”

“Well they couldn’t say no to the commodore’s wife” She replied, setting the cups next to the letter and taking a closer look at it.

He turned his chair to face her, his composed expressions replaced by an anguished look.

“You don’t understand the risks” He pleaded her to change her mind, taking her hand in his “It’s a war! I don’t doubt that you can fight better than half the men the navy will ever have, but-”

“I do understand the risk” She interrupted him, determined “and that’s why I will never let you go to a war alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I will have hundreds of men, a whole royal navy unit behind me”

“And the best navigator these waters have known, with the most beautiful eyes to lead you” She smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I know you will be taking good care of all your men, but who will take care of mine?”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. She smelled like sweet cinnamon, sunshine, and safety.

“It was bold of me to think that I can go that long without those cups of tea of yours”

-

Oliver linked his arm with hers as they took their usual evening stroll by the seaside, a picnic basket dangling from his other arm. They somehow found their peace in walking barefoot on the ivory sand, filling a glass jar with curiously colored seashells and well rounded pebbles. They earnestly deserved this undisturbed tranquility after all those years of combat in the open sea. It’s been a year since his father, the disgraced admiral, passed away. They were both astonished to learn that Oliver was to inherit his estate which was barely a quarter of a mile away from the coast line. It was more of a castle than an estate. Old fashioned, charming, and one hour later Evelyn was setting the admiral’s portraits on fire.

She grasped her shawl tighter to shield herself from the autumn breeze as they walked hand in hand. They subconsciously reached for each other’s hand frequently, constantly, all the time, everywhere. As if their linked souls sought to manifest their bound in every questionable way.

And in a matter of moments, they were already sitting on the red stripped blanket, admiring yet another sunset together. Evelyn sighed deeply, glancing sideway at the man whom she almost worshipped. He was the perfect evidence of God’s perfectionism. How could such a flawless divine creature be…human? She pursed her lips into a thin line, fearing that she might explode from all her swirling emotions. His presence filled her with the most extraordinary feelings. It was outrageous, overwhelming, yet intoxicating in the most enchanting way.

“Oliver” She whispered, taking the glass of wine from his hand and setting in on the sand.

“Yes?” He hummed

She didn’t reply. Instead, she handed him and envelope. His name was written on in with big neat letters. He recognized the handwriting to be hers. He arched an eyebrow at her unusual behavior, but he opened it with no furthermore questions.

Dear Commodore Cochrane,

I am very pleased to inform you that you have been promoted to be father

Yours truly,

Your wife.

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. His eyes darted between Evelyn and the paper in his hand for several times, and not even a word slipped from his mouth. It’s not until he saw that something was dripping on the letter, and he realized that these were his own tears, that he was pulled back to reality. His lower lip trembled as he reached with his hand to frame the side of her face, as the other moved to rest on her belly very delicately, fearing that if he presses harder she might shatter like a porcelain doll. Neither of them dared to break that sacred silence, nor knew how to. They sat there, lost in each other’s eyes as the sky changed its colors to a soft lavender hue. And if eyes were the windows of the soul, she saw pure love pouring from his. She would’ve sworn that she can’t fall for him harder, until that one moment.

Only then she knew that loving him was an endless fall, and it’s a long way down.

-

Evelyn sat on a bench in their little garden, her one year old son sleeping peacefully in her arms. He was carefully wrapped in a warm blanket, snuggled to her chest. She gazed at him adoringly.

“You’re the perfect replica of your father aren’t you” She hummed softly, her finger caressing his little rosy cheek. “You’ve got the same golden hair that captures the sun” Her finger moved to twirl the small blonde curl that fell on his forehead. “The same olive eyes, like the morning of a spring day encapsulated in a honey jar” And she poked his nose “And the same look of mischief, you’re always up to something aren’t you?” The little boy yawned in his sleep, and she smiled.

She felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her and her baby, and she flinched instinctively, protectively holding her son closer. But as soon as she recognized the familiar scent of morning dew and the sweet sea air, her shoulders relaxed and warmth flooded her chest.

“For how long have you been here” She asked, turning to face the grinning man.

“That’s a question which I shall not answer”

“You realize that your answer is implied, right” She rolled her eyes playfully, and the threw her head back to lay on his shoulder. “Hello there, commodore”

“I think you kind of started developing feelings for me. I’m sorry madam, but I’m a married man” He mused.

“Oliver, we are married”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, you must’ve mistaken me for someone else”

“Oliver!” she groaned, trying her best to not wake the baby up. “Sir, we’ve married for eight years. We have a son together, we’re expecting another child soon, and if you wake him up I’ll send you on a pleasure cruise with the edge of my sword”

“Still as feisty as the day I first met you.” A deep chuckled rumbles in his throat, as he let go of her and walked around the bench to face her. He kneeled in front of her and placed a soft kiss on the forehead of their son. And out of the blue, his expressions turned grave and serious.

“Evelyn, I may not be the best at showing it, but you truly made me the happiest man in the world. I’m sorry if my time can never rise up to match the comfort of yours, I would’ve given you the whole world if I could and-”

“Shush” she effectively stopped him by placing her finger on his soft lips, her heart aching with undeniable love.

“You are my world”

“And to think that you’ll ever be any less cliché”

[waritawrites]

A Secret: Watch Out for the Evil Eye Symbol!

https://followerofthewayforever.wordpress.com/2021/02/22/a-secret-watch-out-for-the-evil-eye-symbol/

The Evil Eye has made a reappearance into popular culture, particularly in fashion, jewelry and accessories, and alleged "art." It is a hateful stare that is used to place curses on others. In John H. Elliot's Beware the Evil Eye: The Evil Eye in the Bible and the Ancient World: -Volume 1 Introduction, Mesopotamia, and Egypt, He tells the truth about the evil eye by sharing Jesus' sermon on the mount:

"Beware the Evil Eye: The Evil Eye in the Bible and the Ancient World: -Volume 1 Introduction, Mesopotamia, and Egypt

In his celebrated 'Sermon on the Mount,' Jesus of Nazareth makes reference to one of the oldest beliefs in the ancient world the malignity of an Evil Eye (Matt 6:22-23): 'If, however, your Eye is Evil, your entire body will be full of darkness.' Another of Jesus's references to the Evil Eye appears in his parable concerning workers in a vineyard and an eruption of Evil-Eyed envy (Matt 20:1-16). At the parable’s conclusion, a generous vineyard owner chides disgruntled workers envious of their fellow laborers: 'Is your Eye Evil because I am good?' (Matt 20:15)."

According to Britannica.com

"Evil eye, glance believed to have the ability to cause injury or death to those on whom it falls; pregnant women, children, and animals are thought to be particularly susceptible. Belief in the evil eye is ancient and ubiquitous; it occurred in ancient Greece and Rome, in Jewish, Islamic, Buddhist, and Hindu traditions, and in indigenous, peasant, and other folk societies, and it has persisted throughout the world into modern times. Those most often accused of casting the evil eye include strangers, malformed individuals, childless women, and old women."

Personally, I have noticed when certain acquaintances and relatives come around catastrophe strikes not long after, especially after they have acted condescending and hateful. Once my grandmother wanted to know why I didn't want to go the wedding of one my cousins. I told her that it was because certain of our other relatives were going to the wedding and I noticed that every time there was a new encounter that would cause more frequent contact with them, catastrophes would strike. I told her that I suspected that they were practicing witchcraft. My grandmother didn't defend them - if it weren't true she would have. My grandmother said nothing. She is a woman who went out of town to the casino with her sister when I had gotten seriously ill in high school. She picked me up from school, took me home, then she and my great aunt told me that they couldn't stay - they left town told no one that I was at home sick. I almost died.

Be careful of the company that you keep - no matter who it is. Everyone who seems to treat you nice doesn't have good intentions towards you. Witches often offer gifts and favors as a way of cursing people. Do not accepts gifts if you can avoid it. Don't keep them because those may be cursed objects - THROW THEM AWAY!

!!PAY ATTENTION!! When people who you hardly ever see come around and weird things happen, pray to GOD for help and put those people in GOD's hands.

The Evil Eye is Witchcraft

Deuteronomy 18:9 - 13

9 When thou art come into the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not learn to do after the abominations of those nations.

10 There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch,

11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.

12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD: and because of these abominations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee.

13 Thou shalt be perfect with the LORD thy God.

Rhonda Byrne's The Secret and The Law of Attraction: It is the manifestation of an evil eye

Witches often use the evil eye in various ways. They practice its use in The Law of Attraction, which is a metaphysical principle which purports that by positive thinking you can control your world and the world around you. Kerby Anderson's The False Teaching of “The Secret” – A Christian Evaluation states:

“The Law of Attraction.”{6} You can summarize the law with three words: “Thoughts become things.” In other words, if you think hard enough about something, it will take place. Think good thoughts, and you will reap good things. Think bad thoughts, and bad things will happen to you. You create your own circumstances, and you can change those circumstances with your thoughts.

A central teaching of “The Law of Attraction” is that nothing can come into your experience unless you summon it through persistent thoughts. Thus, everything that surrounds you right now (both good and bad) has been attracted to you. As you focus on what you want, you are changing the vibration of atoms of that thing so that they begin to vibrate to you.{7} Ultimately, you determine the frequency or vibration so that you can best acquire wealth, health, and fulfillment."

Vision boards are forms of evil eye law of attraction witchcraft as well. Do not use the practices of witchcraftvto manifest the things that you want. Galatians 5:16 - 26:

Galatians 5:16 - 26:

16 This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.

17 For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.

18 But if ye be led of the Spirit, ye are not under the law.

19 Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness,

20 Idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies,

21 Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.

22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,

23 Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

24 And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.

25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.

26 Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.

Pray and Trust in GOD for what you want according to HIS Will. James 4:2 - 17 states:

James 4:2 - 17

2 Ye lust, and have not: ye kill, and desire to have, and cannot obtain: ye fight and war, yet ye have not, because ye ask not.

3 Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts.

4 Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God? whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God.

5 Do ye think that the scripture saith in vain, The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy?

6 But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.

7 Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

8 Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded.

9 Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness.

10 Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.

11 Speak not evil one of another, brethren. He that speaketh evil of his brother, and judgeth his brother, speaketh evil of the law, and judgeth the law: but if thou judge the law, thou art not a doer of the law, but a judge.

12 There is one lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy: who art thou that judgest another?

13 Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain:

14 Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.

15 For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.

16 But now ye rejoice in your boastings: all such rejoicing is evil.

17 Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.

In pure Christianity, we recognize that witchcraft is an attempt at usurping GOD's Authority by trying to become your own god. GOD's understanding is infinite. Man's understanding is limited and finite - we don't see the whole picture - we don't know the whole situation. 1 Corinthians 13:12 says:

1 Corinthians 13:12

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

GOD sees clearly therefore leaning unto our understanding via witchcraft will bring about unholy, selfish, unrighteous results. Proverbs 3:5 - 8 says:

Proverbs 3:5 - 8

5 Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

7 Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.

8 It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.

#GOD #Jesus #HolySpirit #TheBible

#TheSecret #TheLawOfAttraction #RhondaByrne #Oprah #NewAge #Witches #Witchcraft #EvilEye