#but its supposed to be p warm today so i’m hoping to soak up some sunshine after work!! <33

[yuukimiyas]

good mornin!! ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ i’m waiting until the last possible moment to get up sigh i am so cozy rn ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ but i also wanna have enough time to stop & get a lil iced espresso before work so i must get ready ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶꒱ა i hope everyone has a great monday!! <33 ily!!

[combat-wombatus]

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death. 

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again. 

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy! 

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge​

here’s the link to the music :)

The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O  Y O U  W A N T  T O  F L Y  W I T H  M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

Masterlist

[sebspocketsquare]

Quarantine 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (online)

A/N: Heya guys! Here’s part 7! I hope you enjoy it ;)

Warnings: Flirting, language, quarantine, feels, fluff, moments of sadness, storms 

[J:] So.. Saturday at 5:00. Sound good?

[You:] Sounds perfect :) Let’s hope this weather clears up before then..

It was late afternoon, you were eating your first meal of the day.

A bowl of your favorite cereal.

[J:] I really enjoyed our date last night, by the way.. 

[J:] Sorry I was pretty nervous at first..

You smile, setting your bowl on the coffee table as you respond.

[You:] Oh, you don’t have to be sorry at all.. I was just as nervous as you were :)

[You:] First dates are always weird, J..

[You:] Ours just happened to be a little weirder than most. :P

[J:] I really really REALLY hate first dates…

You’re about to respond, tell him you feel the exact same way, but…

[J:] And yet, I still love ours.

[J:] And I’m really looking forward to the next one. :)

His text has your heart fluttering like a swarm of butterflies, and you decide to change the subject.

[You:] Speaking of our date..

[You:] I believe we made a deal, didn’t we?

You can see him start typing, erase it and stop, and then start typing again.

This pattern repeats four times before an actual message comes through.

[J:] You first.

You knew he was nervous about this part for some reason, so you had no issue with obliging this request.

Luckily you had brushed your hair today when you first woke up, put on your moisturizer and a bit of mascara. You weren’t as dolled up as you could be, but you thought it was better this way.

If quarantine had taught you anything, it was how to be comfortable with your bare face, to fall in love with some of your natural qualities.

Taking a seat in a chair by the window, you open your camera and take a few selfies from the more flattering angles you’d looked up on pinterest.

They’re pretty enough, but not what you’re looking for.

With a sigh, you look out the window at a lone, common starling sitting on the branch of a tree. He looks to you and cocks his head, as if to say ‘hello’. Your lip curls into a half smile, and at that moment, your thumb slips and captures an accidental photo.

It would turn out to be the perfect one.

It takes you exactly six and a half minutes to actually gain the courage to press send.

As soon as you do, you put your phone screen down on the table and groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck. Why did I send that one?” 

You suddenly regret not putting more makeup on, not editing out the tiny blemish on your chin, not being certain that your hair wasn’t frizzy.

What if this was it - the beginning of the end?

Your phone buzzes from its place on the table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, before you pick it up.

It’s a string of texts from J, with more coming in with every moment that passes.

[J:] Doll

[J:] Goddamnnnnn…

[J:] You are seriously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

[J:] Like… are you real??

[J:] How did i get so goddamn lucky?

[J:] Your eyes are so gorgeous, holy shit.

If you weren’t warm in the face before, you were now.

[You:] Don’t stare too much. :P

[J:] Too late for that. I can’t stop.

He’s silent for a few minutes, and you’re sure it’s because he’s staring at your photo again.

[You:] I do believe it’s your turn, Sarge. ;)

It takes him even longer to reply this time.

He starts typing, stops, and then starts again in a vicious cycle.

[J:] You don’t wanna see me, Doll.. I haven’t shaved in like three weeks…

You can’t help but pout a little bit.

[You:] We made a deal, J :(

[You:] Don’t hide those pretty blue eyes from me.

Hopeful that your playful attempt at comfort would be convincing enough for him, you set your phone back on the coffee table and head to the kitchen to wash your dishes.

When you return five minutes later, you’re happy to find that you have two new messages.

[J:] Alright, just.. I hope you’re not disappointed.

[J:]

Your jaw goes slack and you can’t tear your eyes away from his.

They were beautiful. 

The way the deep blue of the outer edge surrounded the light blue-grey iris reminded you of crashing ocean waves, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in them.

You can’t tell if time has slowed down or if you just weren’t breathing correctly anymore, but you can hear your heart beating in your ears as you look him over.

He’s gorgeous. The glittering grey hairs throughout his beard only made him even more attractive and for some strange reason, all you wanted to do was run your fingertips through it.

Was he even real?

[J:] Doll…?

You don’t even realize it’s been fifteen minutes since he’s sent the picture.

[You:] Sorry, it’s just..

[You:] You know you’re gorgeous, right?

[You:] Like.. Probably the most beautiful man in the history of like.. Ever??

You’re well aware you sound like a bit of a fangirl, but so what? He was breathtaking.

[J:] You’re just being nice.

A scoff escapes your lips as you respond.

[You:] Um, no. 

[You:] I meant it.

[You:] I can’t believe you’ve been hiding those eyes from me for so long.

[J:] You’re too kind.

You decide to tease him a little.

[You:] Are you blushing, Sarge? ;)

[J:] I just might be, doll.

The rest of your day is spent chatting back and forth. J said he had to do some assignments for work on his computer, so he couldn’t game until really late that night, but it didn’t bother you.

It gave you a chance to relax and watch some TV for a while.

The first channel that comes up is the news, and you’re about to turn it off, but something catches your eye.

They’re interviewing Captain America, a fluff piece of him telling you what you can do to help your community - proper social distancing measures and proper handwashing etiquette.

He’s wearing a mask, so only the bottom half of his face is visible, but he looks oddly familiar.

It takes five minutes of watching it to realize who he reminds you of.

Sam. J’s Sam.

You pick up your phone, deciding to share your thoughts.

[You:] So.. I was watching the news..

[J:] Yikes.

[You:] Yeah..

[You:] Have you ever noticed how much Sam and Captain America look alike?

He takes ten minutes to respond, and by this time, the interview with the Captain is over, and you’ve moved on to a re-run of one of your favorite shows.

[J:] Uh, no…

[J:] Why?

[J:] What makes you think that?

All three texts come in quick succession, almost as if they were sent out of panic.

Two more show up on your screen in the same spirit.

[J:] Besides, haven't you seen Sam’s arms? He’s got fucking bird arms.

[J:] Captain America is super buff. No way they’re the same person.

You think back to when Sam came to your apartment to install your security system, and you specifically remember thinking how nice his arms were..

But the fact that J seems to be a little uncomfortable with your observation has you feeling weird too, so you decide to drop the subject for now.

[You:] I guess you’re right. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

[You:] I blame the quarantine.

The reply you receive is only three letters long, and it doesn’t sit right with you either.

[J:] Lol

SUNDAY, 4:15PM

You’ve been awake since noon, which is early for you nowadays. 

It’s been nearly hailing all day, and it was beginning to also put a damper on your mood.

You had to cancel your second date due to the storms, and your make-up date with J was supposed to be in forty five minutes, but there was no way it could happen with the weather in its current state.

It’s be surprising if the whole city didn’t lose power at this rate.

[You:] I think we’re gonna have to cancel again tonight, J.. 

[You:] It’s just getting worse as time goes on.

It breaks your heart to have to cancel on him twice in only a matter of two days, but the cons outweigh the pros in this situation.

[J:] But… our date

[J:] :(

Releasing a heavy sigh, you send back a sad face of your own, chewing the inside of your cheek in an attempt to not let your emotions get the best of you.

[New photo message from J. To view image, unlock device]

The message appears on your screen moments after you’ve begun packing away your date set up. Something in your gut told you he wasn’t going to listen to your recommendation to stay home.

When you open it, you’re not surprised at what you find, but you are absolutely smitten.

 [J:] I’m on my way, doll. Don’t give up on me just yet.

[J:]

You get so distracted staring at his lips, his goddamn perfect, beautiful lips that you don’t notice when twenty minutes has passed since he sent the photo.

He’d be here sooner than you expected, and worse, he was walking in the rain to do it.

What were you going to do with a man who’s stubbornness matched your own?

You decide to set a blanket outside, along with a thermos full of hot coffee.

The sky is dark grey, almost black in some spots, and the fact that it was only 5:00 only made it that much more obvious how nasty of a storm this was turning out to be.

You hoped he was okay.

Back against the door, you sit and wait for him.

Within half an hour, his signature sound of arrival hits the door in quick succession.

Knock. Knock Knock. Knock.

Always in time with your heart.

“How bad was your walk?” You ask immediately, to which you hear a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “That bad, huh?”

“The thunder was pretty loud. Made me jump a few times.” He finally confesses.

Your heart drops, “J.. I told you not to come. I know you wanted to have our date, and I.. I really did too, but.. It’s freezing and raining. You could get sick.”

Concern is dripping from each and every word, and you miss the way his entire face lights up. His heart flutters at hearing how much you care for him. About him.

“Yeah, well, doll.. You’re worth it. Thanks for the coffee by the way. Good call.”

You hear him set his backpack down, followed by his jacket rubbing against the door as he sits. He lets out a half sigh, half hiss when his jeans hit the concrete beneath him, and you’re sure he’s completely soaked to the bone.

Outwardly, you say nothing. Silence. 

He’s not sure if you’re upset or angry. Or maybe just lost in contemplation.

Inwardly, you’re facing a battle. 

A battle between letting a man whom you had surprisingly strong feelings for sit out in the rain and catch a cold, and letting said man inside your apartment during a nationwide quarantine, never having met him face to face.

The lights flicker on and off. On and off again.

The thunder rumbles and you can see the sky flash through your curtains.

J lets out a soft, “Doll?”

Your windows fill with a quick, bright, white light for a moment, before the loudest crash of thunder makes your body tremble.

Your apartment goes black and silent in a matter of seconds, and J releases a quiet, “What the hell?”

Your hands are quaking, and your heartbeat kicks into overdrive as you make your final choice.

TAGS: (I wasnt sure who to tag, so if you dont want to be, I’m sorry!! Just trying to get this out there. ALSO if you wanna be tagged INBOX ME! I tend to miss people in the tags :(  ).  @mindingmyownbusiness​ @plumfondler​  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @loricameback​ @tinaferraldo​ @geminimoonbeamx​  @preserumsteverogers​ @moderapoppins​ @lowkeysebby​ @buckyshattergirl​  @jayattemptstoruletheworld​    @the-observant-fangirl​ @moondancewrites​ @moonbeambucky​ @trinityjadec​  @stevieang​  @bionic-buckyb​ @eyecandybarnes​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @promarvelfangirl​ @ballyhoobarnes​ @bucky-plums-barnes​ @cate-lynne​ @witchymarvelspacecase​ @imaginingbucky​ @theimpossibleg1rl​ @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing​ @formulafun​ @curvybihufflepuff​ @fanficsformarvelkillme​  @shadyskit​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @reading–mermaid @fuckmestan​ @siliverin​ @verygraphicink​ @sallyp-53 @thatsbucknasty​ @steadyphantomcat​ @booktease21 @kiki5283 @lostinspace33 @drayshadow​ @theperditioncrasher​ @mmyepic​ @feelmyroarrrr@alien-beans @heartsaved​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @dreamingofonceuponatime​ @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ @bluerorjhan​ @tarynsnotokay​ @jamdropx35 @turquoisekokiri​ @pinknerdpanda​​ @starkrobb​ @marvelgirl7​ @unscriptedtimetraveler​ @fangeekkk​ @wonderlandmind4​ @pinkisokay​ @mrsdaamneron​ @rynabarnesrogers​ @wish-i-had-something-better​ @stanning-seb-stan​ @oilersgirl35​ @vaisabu​ @paranoid-borderline-insane​ @bonkywobble​ @vikki-rogue​ @witchymegg​ @a--1--1--3​ @margetastic33​ @stuffandstuff-stuff​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @elementec​ @thummbelina​ @booktease21​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @haileystudy

[occasionally-writing]

Read To Me

A/N: Hey guys!!! I apologize that this took so fucking long to come out but here it is! This was requested by an anon and I also got a similar request from @khloris-makara​, so I decided to combine them! I really hope you guys like it and to everyone else who reads it, I hope you like it as well <3

Summary: Mork is on his last year of university and his stress of a deadline for his thesis is high on his mind. Sun notices his boyfriend’s decreasing mood and decides to do everything he can to help Mork relax and take a breather for his own well-being. 

Word Count: 1953

Sun had no idea truly how long Mork has been at it. Ever since his boyfriend had entered the cafe with his bag in hand, throwing it down on the table with an obviously stressed furrowed between his brows, Sun knew that the younger boy was in no mood to be teased today. Not saying anything as he quietly watched his boyfriend throw himself on a chair at a table in the far corner of the cafe, Sun kept his eyes on him in concern through his shift, making sure that Mork wouldn’t overwork himself with whatever he was focusing so hard on. 

Not too long after Mork had sat down, the sun was beginning to set and the familiar hustle and bustle of the cafe started to grow silent, the closing of the day beginning to make the regular customers leave to head home. Letting out a sigh as his shift had just ended and the last person left the cafe, Sun untied his apron and hung it up next to Mork’s on the rack, silently stepping around the counter and heading towards the door to turn the opened sign to closed. Rolling his shoulders back as he could finally relax, Sun placed his hands on his lips and turned his attention to Mork, who was still nose deep in his books, the furrow even deeper in his brows than it was when he first entered.

“Mork? Do you need anything?” Sun asked, rubbing his face when all Mork gave him was a grunt, not exactly answering his question. Letting out a heavy sigh, Sun strolled behind the counter again and began to make a smoothie from the fruit he and Rain had in the small fridge, knowing Mork wasn’t too fond of coffee. Stirring it once it was out of the blender, Sun dipped a straw into it before he made his way towards his tense boyfriend, placing the glass in front of his face. Noticing Sun at last, Mork stared at the drink in confusion until Sun’s hands caressed his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles he could feel under his touch. “You’ve been in this position for a while. Why don’t you stop and get some rest?”

“But...this thesis is due by the end of the week and it’s Wednesday! I need to get this done, P’Sun…” Mork grumbled, his voice low and gravely as it displayed truly how tired he actually was, despite his weak protest. Letting out a hum as he put this into thought, Sun continued to massage his boyfriend’s shoulder, his thumbs pressing softly in gentle circles that had the tension slowly leaving Mork’s shoulders. Leaning back against the chair as his body relaxed against his permission, Mork sighed and laid his head against Sun’s chest, releasing the pencil he had in a tight grip as he stared up at his worried boyfriend. “What if I don’t get this done in time? This is my last year of university and it’s worth a good chunk of my grade…”

“I know...but it’s not going to be good if you don’t take a break. Your words are going to jumble and you’ll trail from the main point you’re supposed to be making. Trust me, dear, I did the same thing as you did while I was in university and I didn’t realize my mistake until Rain distracted me from my studies,” Sun whispered, keeping his voice soft to make sure Mork knew he wasn’t arguing or nagging him. Moving his gaze away from Sun’s loving gaze, Mork stared down at the work he already completed and noticed that Sun was right, his handwriting was almost illegible. Cracking his knuckles as the ache in his hands made him more aware of how long he was working, Mork swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, leaning back against Sun again as his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, a kiss being placed against the back of his head. “Come on. Let me run you a nice cool bath while you clean this stuff up. Sounds like a plan?”

Biting back a yawn at the thought of being able to relax and get out of his current hunched position, Mork nodded and allowed Sun to help him out of the chair he sat for who knows how long. Lacing their fingers together softly, Sun pressed a kiss to the back of Mork’s before he let go, offering a smile as he moved to head up the stairs to the apartment above. Watching him leave, Mork didn’t look away from his boyfriend’s retreating form until he could no longer see him, his attention moving back to the papers he had scattered on the tiny round table. Knowing that he would have to fix most of the mistakes he had made, Mork couldn’t help the scowl that turned his lips down. Sluggishly gathering all the papers up and putting them in their respective folders, Mork shoved everything back in his bag and tossed it over his shoulder, stretching lightly as everything in him cracked, showing its displeasure with being trapped in the same position for what was most likely hours. 

Slipping up the stairs as he turned off most of the lights for the cafe, Mork toed off his shoes and lined them up next to Sun and Rain’s, knowing how his boyfriend was with being neat and having everything in its place. Hearing the water running in the bathroom, Mork couldn’t help the shy smile that lit up his face as he turned away from it for a moment, heading towards Sun’s room so he could put his bag away, knowing his boyfriend wouldn’t mind it if he placed it on the loveseat he had by the window. Feeling his body relax further as he stepped into Sun’s room, the scent of his boyfriend literally everywhere, Mork tossed the bag on the loveseat and quickly moved out, not wanting to keep Sun waiting since he heard the bath running for him. 

“P’?” Mork mumbled as he knocked on the door, opening it just slightly so he could peek into the bathroom. Noticing Sun right away, Mork stepped further in and closed the door behind him, deciding to sit on the toilet seat as he got the gentle smile from his boyfriend. Making sure the water was the right temperature, Sun nodded and stood back up from where crouched and wiped his damp hands off on his jeans. Letting out his hand for Mork to take, Sun carefully pulled him up and wrapped his arms around his waist, keeping Mork close enough to where their chests were touching. Feeling a wave of shyness making his cheeks warm, Mork swallowed back a protest and allowed Sun to hold him. “P’Sun, can I get in the bath now?”

“Oh...right, sorry. Go right ahead and just throw your clothes in the hamper. I need to do the laundry tomorrow anyways. I’ll go get some clothes for you to borrow,” Sun whispered, pressing a kiss to Mork’s flushed cheek as he let him go, playfully slapping his butt as he stepped out of the bathroom, a cheeky grin on his face when Mork gasped and turned to give him a playful glare. Watching the door close behind his boyfriend, Mork sighed and did as Sun had said, removing his clothes and tossing them into the hamper, not waiting long as he let his body sink in the lukewarm water. Leaning back against the tub, Mork felt his body losing all the tension he kept throughout the day and closed his eyes, not moving until he heard the slight knock on the door. “I brought you some clothes. I’m going to be in my room if you wanna join me when you get out, okay?”

Humming in return as Sun placed the clothes on the sink, Mork let his eyes slip shut again as Sun stalked over and brushed his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp until the touch disappeared and the bathroom door was opened and closed once again. Letting himself soak until the warmth of the water disappeared to a cooler temperature that made goosebumps rise on his arms, Mork huffed but slowly sat up, pushing the plug to let the water drain as he stood up, carefully stepping out on the rugs Sun always had down so no one would slip and crack their heads open. Blinking slightly when he noticed two towels on the toilet, Mork couldn’t help the grin that made his lips twitch up when he realized that Sun must’ve put them down for him when he dropped off the clothes. Wrapping the towels around himself, Mork sluggishly dried off, slipping on a pair of shorts and a muscle tee that he knew belonged to his boyfriend, the scent of his cologne woven deep into the fabric from how much Sun had worn it. 

Stepping out of the bathroom with a yawn once he was dry and his hair was slightly damp, Mork slowly made his way towards Sun’s room, pausing to glance at Rain’s closed door before he continued his pace towards his boyfriend’s bedroom. Gently rapping his knuckles against the door, Mork quietly let himself in and came face to face with his boyfriend, who was sitting on his bed with the one lamp on his bedside table on, bathing the room in just enough soft orange light for him to see the words on the pages. Glancing up from his book, Sun gave him a small smile and patted the spot next to him softly. Finding he didn’t have the energy to react like he usually would, Mork agreed and crawled onto the bed, squirming up to Sun as he laid his head on his boyfriend’s chest, letting one arm drape itself across Sun’s waist. Keeping one hand on the spine of the book, Sun threaded his free hand through Mork’s hair, drawing him closer until they were meshed together.

“You can sleep if you want. I’m going to stay up a little longer to read more,” Sun whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Mork’s forehead, making a small sound slip from his lips that caused Sun to chuckle. Huffing slightly with a pout on his lips, Mork buried himself deeper into Sun and sighed, relaxing fully for the first time today. Continuing to rub his fingers through Mork’s hair, Sun kept his eyes on his adorable boyfriend for a moment longer before he finally let his gaze drift back to his book, beginning to read again. Observing him quietly as his eyes began to flutter shut, sleep wanting to drag him into unconsciousness, Mork whispered something that made a smile rise on Sun’s face. “You want me to read out loud? Okay…”

Taking in a deep breath as Sun relented and began to read, his voice steady and hushed in the semi-dark room, Mork struggled to keep his eyes open as he listened. Getting into another chapter in no time, Sun paused when he felt Mork’s body grow lax against his, his eyes leaving the book to take in his boyfriend, who had finally passed out and was holding onto him tightly like he was afraid Sun would disappear if he didn’t hold him close. Letting out a fond sigh, Sun held Mork tighter against him and smiled, nuzzling his nose in his hair for just a second before he gave his attention back to the book, keeping up with reading out loud very softly as he remained unaware of the soft smile that was resting on Mork’s face as he snuggled closer, burying his face into Sun’s chest as he slept.

[aticklishtem]

To Chase the Blues Away

((heyyy, I’m alive, sorta!! A very belated request for @mylittlemystery ^^;; sorry for the wait, darling, I hope you like it!! <3 ))

Some days, being the Devil didn’t seem like as much fun as it used to be.

Sure, he still had the kind of power most folks would sell their souls for at the tips of his claws. He still had an army of loyal, if occasionally incompetent minions to do his bidding – and of course, he still had the casino, drawing in the suckers to empty their coins like moths to a flame, even if they weren’t always bringing in the big bucks like the good old days.

The good old days before those two little finks played him at his own game, and ever since something had shifted. A couple dozen deadbeats getting bailed out may not have made that much difference in the long term – he had a sizeable stash of souls accumulated over the years – but nonetheless, as the contracts burned the Devil felt a little of his power, his control over Inkwell slip away, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit. The idea of no longer commanding the unquestioned fear and respect he deserved was as horrifying as it was infuriating – he was the goddamned Devil, there wasn’t a soul in the land who could take that away from him – and although he was determined to claw back that control, some days it was all just too much. The slightest thing would niggle on his last nerve, and sometimes one innocuous comment from a casino employee was enough provoke a tirade of abuse. He’d rant and rave and wave his trident to let off steam, until he had the whole room cowering behind their tables. Call the Devil old-fashioned, but sometimes a fella just needed to see the terror in his underlings’ eyes as they grovelled at his feet and begged him to spare their wretched lives.

Other days, though, his emotions proved a tad more troublesome.

The Devil sat in his office, grinding his teeth together as he flicked through a pile of paperwork, searching for a contract – Salt, wasn’t it? It had been years, but he reckoned it was time to call in some old favours – if he could only find the blasted thing. What twit had organised this place? Couldn’t any of these imbeciles he’d magnanimously spared from eternal damnation do anything right?! Letting out a growl, he got up from his desk and started pulling out files, drawers, everything else on the shelves as the frustration boiled in his blood, bubbling closer to erupting the further he seemed from getting anywhere.

As if that wasn’t testing him enough, he also had the imps he’d been foolish enough to let tag along scuttling about under his feet, chasing each other, climbing up the Devil’s chair and onto his shoulders and tugging at his fur while they all chattered at once:

“Booossss, whatcha doin’?”

“Is that a soul? I wanna soul!”

“Is it lunchtime yet? I’m hungryyy…”

“Boss, can we have some chips? I wanna go play –”

“Would you all just shut yer pieholes?!” the Devil finally bellowed, the force of his rage sending out a shockwave of magic that licked flames up the walls and swept everything clean off his desk – including the imps, who tumbled to the floor in a shrieking heap. Four pairs of eyes gazed up at him in stunned silence, wide and fearful, but it didn’t give the Devil the satisfaction he craved. Instead, as the youngest imp blinked, its lower lip starting to wobble, the red-hot rage prickled behind his eyes, and – oh no…

“P-Papa…?”

That pitiful whimper did it: the dam burst, the Devil almost choking on the sudden lump in his throat as he slammed his fists down on his desk. “Enough out of you! Go! Scram!”

He waved a hand to teleport them swiftly back to Hell before they could protest – even though this ridiculous surge of tenderness made him want nothing more than to scoop his boys into a hug and tell them he was sorry, he never meant to hurt them (well, to seriously hurt them), but he couldn’t possibly let them see him break down. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be – he was the Devil, for pete’s sake! He should be able to command anything he wanted, not be at the mercy of his unpredictable emotions like some kind of pathetic mortal. First he gets walloped by a couple of kids, and now it felt like his empire was crumbling around him, and it just...damn it, it wasn’t fair!

The Devil unleashed an anguished wail, the tears finally breaking free as he collapsed back into his chair, his whole body shaking with great, ugly, shuddering sobs. They kept on coming, rolling down his cheeks, soaking his fur and splashing onto the long-forgotten paperwork, but he didn’t care – let ‘em all go to Hell, they had it coming anyway. He buried his head in his hands and let all the frustration pour out of him, lost in a haze of self-pity, until he was rudely interrupted by a knock on his door.

“I’m busy!” he snarled, in the most ferocious roar that should’ve sent anyone running for the hills – so naturally, King Dice just waltzed on in like it was his own office.

“Don’t look too busy to me. I thought you might wanna see today’s numbers - business is up from…” Dice trailed off, his sharp eyes flicking from the shelves turned upside down to the papers scattering the floor before landing on the Devil, in all his red-eyed, matted-furred glory, and he lifted an eyebrow somewhere between curiosity and concern. “Yeesh. What happened here?”

“Nothing! All under control!” the Devil snapped, furiously rubbing his eyes with one hand and unsuccessfully shooing Dice away with the other. “You can show me later – go get back to work and make yourself useful!”

“Sorry, boss – no can do,” Dice answered with a shrug, calm as if he was dealing with a petulant child rather than the embodiment of evil itself. He walked over, picking up the papers and shuffling them into a neat pile on the Devil’s desk. “What kinda right-hand man would I be if I left you here in such a state, hmm? Hey,” he added, more gently, “don’t blow your wig – it’s gonna be okay. Them cupfaces ain’t seen the last of us. The chumps’ll come back – they always do. We’ll be swimmin’ in the dough again before you know it.”

The Devil grumbled half-heartedly, deliberating giving him what for for daring to disobey an order, but then Dice placed a comforting hand on his head, stroking soothingly through his fur, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. As humiliating as it was to be caught bawling his eyes out, he had to admit the fella was good with his hands, and he always seemed to know just how to calm him down. He felt the tension start to melt away as gloved fingers got to work massaging his shoulders, letting out a few contented purrs followed by a sigh of pleasure when they targeted a particularly tight spot at the base of his neck.

It was only when Dice’s fingers moved higher, touch just a little too light, that he started to twitch, biting his lip to hold back any embarrassing noises while fighting the urge to scrunch up his neck. He’d almost convinced himself he could endure it – right up until Dice brushed the tender spot below his ear and the Devil jerked, a snort he couldn’t quite muffle slipping past his lips.

“Everything okay there, boss?” He could just hear the smirk in Dice’s voice – he knew exactly what he was doing, and the Devil knew he’d left himself much too vulnerable. “You seem a little...jumpy.”

“Dice.” The Devil lifted his head to glare at him, but the stupid wobbly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth threatened to betray him as the tension resurfaced in the form of anticipatory butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “Don’t you dare – you better not be thinking about trying…”

“Don’t what, boss? I’ve no idea what you mean.” Dice ran a fingertip over the pointed curve of the Devil’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “All I’m trying to do his help you relax – unless you’re telling me you’re too ticklish to take even this…”

The Devil opened his mouth to threaten him, but Dice’s fingers dug into the sweet spot behind his ear and all that flew out was a stream of unfittingly angelic giggles as he scritched away with just the right amount of pressure.

“Well, hi-de-ho, here we go!” Dice crooned, his teasingly triumphant sing-song almost melting the Devil into a furiously blushing puddle. “There’s that smile again. You’re looking much happier already – good to know this no-good lackey’s still good for somethin’, huh?”

“Dihihihihice!” the Devil spluttered, arms flailing wildly as he attempted to bat his hands away - but that only worsened his predicament, as Dice seized his paw, holding it captive in one hand while those fiendishly skilled fingers skittered over his ribs and scribbled mercilessly into his newly exposed armpit; the Devil should’ve overpowered him easily, but he was even weaker from the uncontrollable cackles reverberating through the room than from his earlier outpouring of emotion. “You just wahahahahait – Ihihihihi’m gonna –”

“You’re gonna what, boss, hmm? Laugh for me?” Dice purred, his warm breath in the Devil’s ear tickling him in tandem with his devious fingers performing every dirty trick they knew. “I sure hope so, ‘cause I’ve been missin’ that sweet laugh of yours. Been waiting to get my hands on this deliciously ticklish tum…” He squeezed his sides and the Devil yelped, lost to helpless hysterics as Dice’s fingers raked through his fur to tease the agonisingly sensitive skin underneath, pinching and poking and swirling around his navel before digging into the money spot. “Just imagine if the folks out there could see you now, the big, bad king of Hell, meanest and toughest in the land – but I know the truth. You’re just my ticklish li’l kitty, aren’t ya? Aren’t ya?”

The tears were still streaming down the Devil’s cheeks thick and fast – but now for an entirely different reason, and when Dice leaned down to rub his face lovingly into his trembling fur, nuzzling and nibbling at every bit of skin he could reach, he came completely undone.

“Y-yehehehehehes!” the Devil bleated, pounding his fist desperately against his desk as Dice smothered his belly with part kisses, part raspberries, but every bit too ticklish to stand for much longer. He only realised what he’d admitted to when they eased off and Dice stood up, grinning from pip to pip at having apparently heard the answer he wanted.

“There, now, doesn’t that feel better?” he cooed, emerald eyes sparkling with sadistic satisfaction and affection as he cupped the Devil’s burning cheeks in his gloves, thumbs stroking over the tear trails in his fur before pressing a brief but tender kiss to his nose. “No more tears.”“Youhuhuhu - dirty, cheatin’, sneaky, no-good…” The Devil rubbed at his arms, trying to shake off the lingering tingles along with his goofy smile while gathering his breath and dignity; Dice just chuckled and preened at his choice descriptors as if they were the highest praise – which, coming from the Devil, maybe they were. “Listen. If you tell anyone about this…”

He didn’t specify whether he meant the crying or the tickling – neither were exactly fitting for his fearsome reputation – but Dice nodded, miming zipping up his mouth and pressing a finger to his lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of tellin’ a soul, boss. Why would I, when I can have you like this all to myself?” He winked as he caught the Devil’s eye, fluttering his fingers before disappearing back into the hallway. “Catch ya later.”

The door swung shut and the Devil leaned back in his chair with a long-suffering yet contented sigh, smoothing his claws through his ruffled fur before resuming his work. They’d see who caught who later, alright, his usual scheming grin creeping back into place just thinking about the fun they’d have. The Devil always gave back a thousand times worse than he got – he did have that diabolical reputation to maintain.

And, just maybe, there was still a hell of a lot to love about his job after all.

[anytaintedcreature]

Once Upon A Dream (2/?)

Honored Luminary. Last Prince of Dundrasil. Rowan has many names, and doesn’t feel he’s lived up to any of them, what with the hole in the sky where the World Tree once bloomed, and a victory that feels hollow in the aftermath. When he’s offered a chance to do it all over again, he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s the Luminary, and his life isn’t his own to live, and he’s about to learn just how much is lost when one loses time.

Canon Divergence AU: Yggdrasil never returns to life after Mordegon’s fall, and the Luminary returns to a former place in time with an interesting new ability that might prove to be more of a curse than a blessing.

Rating: T

AO3 & Tumblr (P)

***

Chapter 1: Au Revoir

 Today I'm not myself And you, you're someone else And all these rules don't fit And all that starts can quit What a peculiar state, we're in

**

Before

 Erik broke the surface of the water with a gasp. Water ran in rivulets from his hair down his cheeks, and when he felt the sunlight soak his skin for the first time in months, a grin pulled up the corners of his mouth, slightly manic in its intensity.

He’d been in the dark a long time.

He took a deep breath and held it in, staring up at the sun for a moment until his eyes burned before letting it out. “That was something, Luminary. What, I don’t know, but - shit,” he broke off, catching sight of the boy in question, face down in the water not too far off to his side.

“No, come on,” Erik splashed over to him as quickly as the water would allow and took hold of his shoulders, flipping him upright. “Don’t do this to me,” he begged, anxiety spiking into a very real fear.

He couldn't take care of anyone.

Erik towed the boy to shore, careful to keep his head lolling above water even as he swallowed mouthfuls of it himself. He tugged him up onto the bank and pressed his ear to the still boy’s lips, and cursed before pounding a fist against his chest.

“No, no, breathe, damn it! Please.”

With another desperate smack, the Luminary gasped and choked, his eyes flying wide open.

Erik breathed with him. He helped turn him over, running his palm up the other boy’s back as he coughed and spat river water out of his lungs.

“There, that’s better,” he soothed. His voice was shakier than he’d like, but as he slumped back to sit in the sand, his hand between his companion’s shoulder blades and counting his heartbeats, he couldn’t quite summon up the will to care.

“I can’t decide if you’re lucky or just the opposite, Luminary,” Erik said, once his heart had slowed from a merciless drum beat to something more manageable, and the roaring in his ears died away.

The boy rested his forehead on his knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Erik realized he was still rubbing slow strokes up and down his spine, and yanked his hand back.

Beside him, his companion muttered something.

“Didn’t catch that,” Erik replied, turning his face up to the sun and letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.

He glanced back over as the Luminary slumped backward with a thud. “Rowan,” he murmured, his lips barely moving to shape the word. “It’s Rowan.” His eyes slid shut, and he fell silent once more.

Erik felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Rowan, then,” he said softly, trying it out. When he didn’t get a reply, Erik looked down at his companion, hesitating only a moment before leaning in close.

Out like a light, he decided, but still breathing.

Erik heaved a sigh before clambering to his feet. He reached down and slipped an arm around Rowan’s waist, and gingerly pulled the boy to his feet. He was soaking wet and absolute dead weight, but his skin was warm where it touched Erik’s, and he figured he could bear his weight, for a little while. He’d carried heavier burdens before, after all.

“Put your faith in the Luminary,” Erik echoed on a grunt as he took a step forward, and Rowan’s head rolled to press against his neck. “I’d say we’re off to a swell start.”

***

When Rowan opened his eyes, for a moment all he saw was blue.

A cloud rolled slowly across the sky, and a cool breeze played over his face, ruffling through his hair. He sat up and looked around, and felt his stomach turn over.

He was in a field, right outside the gates of Arboria, with the Sword of Shadows lying in the grass alongside his legs. Most telling of all was Yggdrasil, high overhead and standing tall and proud, and alive.

For a moment, he was dumbfounded. He’d actually done it.

He’d gone back in time. He wasn’t lost to the void, his soul doomed to haunt shadows in a broken world. He’d arrived where he was meant to, and the thought had him staggering to his feet, pulling the giant dark sword up with him.

If Yggdrasil was back, that meant someone else was, too.

Rowan took the steps three at a time, his breath coming in short pants by the time he’d reached the fountain in the town’s heart. He was drawing some puzzled stares, he knew, but the onlookers didn’t stop him as he mounted the rest of the stairs leading up to the Cathedral. Palms planted on the door, he drew in a breath and held it as he shoved the doors open, his heart pounding hard against the cage of his ribs.

He looked around the room so frantically he almost missed her, down on her knees in the center of the marble, red-clad head bent low.

Goddess above, but there she was.

“Oh Serenica, blessed ancestor. The time has come at last for us to fulfill our destiny,” Veronica was speaking, her voice soft but clearly audible in the silence of the temple, and he could barely feel his legs as he came to a stop several feet behind her,

She was alive, close enough that it would only take him scant steps to reach her and pull her in, and hold on tight. The urge to do so was nearly smothering.

She’d almost certainly hit him if he did so, he was sure, and he stuffed his fist against his mouth to cover the small, slightly hysterical sound that had managed to break free.

Veronica lept to her feet, arms spread wide, and for a moment he thought she’d realized his presence. She tipped her face up to the light and continued her prayer, and for the first time, it occurred to Rowan that he might be intruding on a private moment.

“But no matter what happens, I swear I won’t let the Luminary come to harm!” She continued on, unaware of her audience, and Rowan felt his heart lurch.

You didn't, he thought, not caring a whit for the stinging tears that blurred his vision.

“He’s our light and our hope, and he’ll rid our world of darkness. I know he will!”

He didn’t feel like he deserved her faith, before or now, but as he scrubbed his hands over his eyes and swiped stubborn streaks away he swore he’d do his best to earn it.

“Oi!”

Rowan looked up to find Veronica with a hand on her hip, the other thrusting a finger at him.

“What are you doing here? Wait, you weren’t listening, were you?” she demanded, and he bit down on his lower lip to hide a smile and try to keep further tears at bay.

He was an absolute mess.

“Sorry,” he started, sheepish, as she continued to let him have it. He had missed her, but he hadn’t realized just how viscerally until that moment, while his heart swelled as she shouted at him. He couldn’t start crying again. He had to do better. In this timeline, his friends had no idea anything had gone wrong the first time. But as Veronica sauntered up to him, blonde eyebrows drawn low, he found himself bending down to his knee.

“Can I just…” Rowan had reached out before he realized and hesitated.

Veronica tipped her head to one side, and before he could force words out, her expression softened as though, somehow, she understood what he needed. “You - oh, whatever. Alright then, you idiot.” Her arms went around his neck and Rowan let out a great, shuddering breath, before wrapping his arms around her in turn and pulling her in.

“Look, it’s alright to be frightened,” she started, giving his back a couple of pats, “but pull yourself together, okay? The old man already frets like a mother hen, we can’t have you losing it on us, too-”

“Well, isn’t this just the sweetest?” Sylvando’s voice rang out behind him, and he felt Veronica shove him away without ceremony. “Why have I never gotten a quick snuggle?”

Rowan smiled a little to himself, before turning around. Sylvando he could handle.

When he spun around to face the door, he felt his heart stop, before picking up a bruising rhythm. The smile slid from his face. The entertainer wasn’t alone.

Erik had his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched high. If he’d looked concerned before, his expression was nothing short of bewildered now, and Rowan could easily imagine why.

He felt like he’d seen a ghost, and probably looked the part - and Erik especially could probably tell that he’d been crying.

Do better. Turn to stone.

Sylvando continued on, unbothered. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, honey. Come on, then, the Father will be waiting!” With a wave of his hand, he spun around on his heel and waltzed out. Veronica cast Rowan one more odd, considering look before trailing out after him.

Rowan took a step to follow but froze in his tracks when Erik pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the touch through his tunic. He wasn’t blushing, at least.

“Are you alright?” Erik started, a small frown curving his mouth. “And uh, what’s with that sword? You’re supposed to be the good guy, remember?”

His teasing fell flat when Rowan didn’t smile. He’d completely forgotten about the Sword of Shadows strapped to his back. “Oh. Well, one of Father Benedictus’s aids gave it to me. It’s supposed to, um, help.”

Utterly brilliant.

“Doesn’t look like it’s meant to help much of anything,” he mused, letting his hand fall away. Rowan had to suppress the urge to reach for it with his own. “And you look-”

“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” Rowan interrupted, harsher than he’d meant, and he could see the flash of surprise in the other boy’s eyes before his expression went blank.

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess,” Erik said, cooler than before. “Let’s just get going, yeah?”

Guilt settled in and curled around his heart like a fist, and Rowan bit back a sigh. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

 ** 

Rowan was not off to a great start.

As they trekked through the First Forest, he stayed silent and hung back. One by one, his friends would drop back to chat with him, to try to draw him out.

“What’s that look on yer face, laddie? You look like yer about to toss your biscuits -”

“Darling, you’re looking very down today. You should get more beauty sleep.”

Veronica watched him more than any of them, brows furrowed low as though he were a puzzle she wanted to sort out. Jade even tried to nudge him into a game of who could find the most sparkly sap, but the closer they got to the altar, the more his anxiety bloomed, white hot in the center of his chest, and the more he resisted their efforts.

He felt disconnected, disjointed - they were the same people he loved so fiercely, but in that moment they felt more like shadows. Where they were all excited to reach the World Tree, all he felt was an ill sense of foreboding. They didn’t know the horror that came next. He had all the weight of the world riding on him as he tried to prepare to prevent it.

He’d had to pretend before, certainly - that he wasn’t almost constantly afraid of failing, that he wasn’t overburdened by guilt - but this was a new level of awareness. He had to school every expression, every gesture, for anything he did could change the course time would take, and he could not mess it up again.

On top of it, he wasn’t used to having to pretend in front of Erik. At least, in the past - or, the future - he’d always been able to let his weakness show in front of one person, who’d always been more than happy to hold him up when he might falter.

Rowan pushed aside the frond of a fern and kept walking, and once again felt aware of a different pair of eyes on him. His skin prickled with it, as he felt as though he walked along a thin razor wire and teetered too close to both edges.

He could have sworn it took much longer the second time, for his grandfather to hunch forward and request they take a break, but he still felt the rush of relief for just one more moment to breathe before it was time to rewrite history.

 *

After they finished setting camp, Rowan sank down in front of the fire, and watched the light cast shadows in the rapidly gathering darkness. He felt someone settle down at his side and didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Calm down,” Erik murmured, and Rowan felt the tension in his shoulders release, as though all he’d needed was permission. “You’ve been so on edge all day, it’s making me nervous. It’ll be alright. We’ve all got your back, you know?”

“I do know.” Rowan agreed, his voice low. He turned to face him and wasn’t quite prepared for it to hurt.

Firelight flickered across Erik’s face as he offered a small, tentative smile, and everything about him was familiar. But this Erik wasn’t his, not yet, and he couldn’t relax in his presence and bask in his warmth, not completely.

Turning to stone wasn’t quite as easy as he’d wished.

The soft notes of Serena’s harp filled the air, a melody he’d found quite sweet, before. Now it hollowed him out, because he knew not everything beautiful could stay untainted forever.

Erik’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Rowan let his eyes fall closed when he squeezed.

“Get some sleep,” the thief told him, and Rowan nodded before sinking back onto his bedroll behind him. He fell asleep to a song that reminded him of grief, while trying to remember the exact way he’d felt in that moment, the first time he’d lived it.

Hope.

***

Rowan opened his eyes.

He could still hear the harp, a repeating rise and fall as it joined the chorus of cricket song and the whisper of the breeze through the trees. The entire forest looked to be glowing, in time with the music.

He sat up, his confusion mounting as he noticed their camp was gone completely, without even the remnants of the fire left behind, and Rowan scrambled to his feet with one quick, sharp shout.

“Shh.”

He spun around to see Serena, sitting down in the grass with her eyes closed. Her expression was a peaceful one, and that calmed him, if only a little.

“You’ll wake them.” Serena continued, gently chastising in her soft voice.

“Wake who?” Rowan asked, stepping over to sit down beside her.

She smoothed a hand over her skirt. “The leaves, of course. Everyone’s trying to get some rest.”

Rowan frowned, but let the comment go. “Where is everyone else?”

Serena opened her eyes and blinked, offering him a slightly puzzled smile. “Why, I just told you, silly.”

The truth came to him with a sudden clarity, the click of a key turning in a lock. “This isn’t real.”

Serena tilted her head to one side. “Who’s to say? I think we might just be lost.” She hummed along to the harp for a moment. “Are you worried about tomorrow, Rowan?”

“More than you know,” he blew out a breath. “Why are you dreaming about the Yggdrasil leaves, Serena?”

“I asked Veronica before we slept if she thought our leaves would fall at the same time,” she started, looking up at the tree overhead. “She said she hoped so.” Serena turned to face him, biting down on her lower lip. “She told me that if something happened to her, I’d have to see this through on my own. But I don’t think I could, you know? Veronica’s always been the quicker one, the cleverer one. She’s so brave, nothing scares her. I think she would be just fine on her own, without me. But...I couldn’t, if I lost her.”

Rowan felt his mouth twist into a sad smile. He reached out and took her hand in his. “You’re braver than you think, Serena.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but-”

“No, I mean it. Listen,” Rowan shifted in the grass, giving her hand a light tug to hold her attention. “I can’t promise nothing at all will go wrong tomorrow, because as much as I hate it, I know better than that. But..I’m going to do my best for you guys, okay? It’s going to be different, this time around.”

He noticed the slip up too late, but Serena didn’t seem confused by his words. “I know you will, Rowan. We all believe in you, you know. Maybe you should try it.”

The soft laugh surprised him, as it bubbled loose from his chest. “Yeah, maybe I should.” He looked up to the glowing leaves. “I know you’d be alright without her, Serena. You’re strong enough for that. But I’m going to try and make sure you don’t have to be.”

Serena tipped her head to one side, resting it against his shoulder with a quiet sigh. “Thanks for coming to talk with me, I...I feel a bit better, truly. Would you mind terribly if we stayed like this awhile?”

“Take as long as you need,” Rowan murmured, “we’ve got time now.”

[rohad93]

Ruby sat in the corner of Weiss’s room flipping through her book of fairytales as she gave a final account of the number of dead and all the damages that had occured two days prior to Glynda.

“That many?” The older Sorceress seemed to mumble to herself. “I see. I shall let his Majesty know. No doubt it won’t be long before the news reaches here regardless. I will contact you soon.” With that the megascope went dark.

Weiss stood quiet with a thoughtful look on her face. Ruby closed her book, setting it on her lap.

That had gone about as well as Weiss had expected it too. Glynda was by no means pleased to learn that a pogrom had erupted in town at Taurus’s execution. More so than that, the Sorceress was annoyed with herself for not having considered such a possibility.

The town was a heavy mix of humans and non-humans and once his acts became public knowledge anti non-human sentiments were bound to explode, and they had, spectacularly.

From what Oobleck had told her the tensions in town seemed to have lessened but Weiss had witnessed such events first hand before and knew that such a thing could change in a single instant.

Weiss growled to herself but Ruby caught the noise.

“Well… that went well?” Ruby partially questioned, unsure of the situation. Weiss sighed.

“As well as one might expect considering two of the town’s largest buildings are piles of ash with several others damaged nearly beyond repair and a body count of no less than a hundred and thirty.” She grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring into the space where the image of Glynda had vanished.

“Should we do something?” She leaned back into the plush leather chair and watched the Sorceress brood from across the room.

“No, we wait.”

“So, were just waiting?”

“For now.” Weiss nodded, turning to face the Witcher who drummed her fingers on the leather bound book. “The town will need direction in rebuilding, once the King decides what must be done Oobleck and I will be needed for that.”

“But until then?” Ruby tilted her head.

“For now we wait for the King, and Oobleck will take care of anything that requires immediate attention. Until things cool off it would be better that you and I stay away from town, you especially.” Weiss emphasised, leveling her gaze on the Witcher who shrugged in a sheepish gesture.  

“The eyes give me away every time.” Ruby nodded, propping her cheek on her closed fist.

“Indeed, and we don't need anymore unnecessary blood to be spilt or fights breaking out, so for now we’ll wait.”

Ruby hummed in acknowledgment.

“You’re… not in a hurry to leave Beacon are you?” She asked after a moment.

Before the Witcher could answer the crystals in the megascope blazed to life, waiting.

“Now who is it?” Weiss mumbled to herself before waving a hand and allowing the megascope to project a new image into the air.

A familiar workshop and Sorceress appeared.

“Hey!”

“Yang!” Ruby jumped up and trotted up to the megascope.

“Ruby! There you are, and seemingly in one piece.” The blonde Sorceress smiled brightly. “I heard you quickly took care of the monster problem.”

“Where did you hear that from?” Ruby questioned the slightly grainy image of her older sister.

“From Weiss.” She nodded to her colleague. “Said you dispatched it quick and proper.” She nodded.

“I didn’t know you were in contact with Yang.” Ruby turned to Weiss.

“I required her assistance in tracking down our fisstech dealer,” she crossed her arms.

“What do you know about fisstech?” She turned back to her sister, both eyebrows hitched upwards.

“I'm doing some… research for King Ozpin concerning narcotics. I can’t really talk about it right now.” Ruby made a face that caused Yang to roll her eyes even as she smiled and cocked a hip, arms crossed beneath her ample chest.

“Don’t make that face. I got it under control.” She assured.

“Hmm,” Ruby simply made a different, unconvinced face.

“Is there something I can help you with, Yang?” Weiss interjected.

“Oh, no. You never got back to me with Ruby so I figured I’d pop in and remind you, but here she is.” She grinned.

“Ah, right. I never had a good opportunity. Things have been, shall we say, hectic.” Weiss frowned.

“How so?” Yang glanced between the other two women.

“When I was in town yesterday morning a pogrom erupted.” Ruby explained. Yang froze at the word before her eyes locked on Ruby, scanning her. Ruby already knew she was looking for injuries.

“I’m fine.” She assured. “And Weiss cast a huge storm spell or something and put all the fires out so… only a couple buildings burned down… Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” She finished looking at the floor.

Yang shook her head and sighed.

“His Majesty was supposed to be here in a week but it may be a while longer with this, there will be backlash at the capital.” Weiss said.

“No doubt.” Yang agreed. “Hmm, I might have to see the damage for myself…”

“Wait, what?” Weiss blinked as the projection of Yang began to pace about her workshop. Ruby grinned as she watched.

“There she goes.” She chuckled. Weiss looked at her questioningly.

“I do also have to report to the King and tie up some loose ends here before I leave.” She was mostly talking to herself now.

“Yang, there’s no reason for you…”

“Alright, I gotta get some stuff finished up, I’ll see you in a week.” She said ignoring her colleague and in a blink the image disappeared and the crystals went dark.

“Is she always so…” Weiss trailed off.

“Yup.” Ruby drawled, popping the ‘P’.

“I need a drink…” Weiss sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose and walked over to her vanity.

“Kind of early for drinking…” She mumbled, glancing around the room at all the alchemical ingredients and things sitting on shelves. She noticed the sheathed rapier sitting next to Weiss’s bed and had an idea.

“You any good with that?” She asked, nodding toward the sword when Weiss turned to look. She smiled when almost predictably, the Sorceress puffed up.

“Naturally, I don’t carry it for show.” She huffed.  

“How bout a spar than?” She offered. “Nothing relieves stress like beating each other up.” She grinned when Weiss couldn't completely cover up her snort of laughter.

“Very well, I’ll need to change. Wait for me in the garden.” Ruby nodded and strolled out of the room.

Walking down the hall she spotted a familiar head of long dark tresses.

“Blake.” She called. The servant stopped and looked to see who was calling her.

“Good morning, Mistress Witcher.” She nodded in greeting.

“How are you today?” She couldn’t help but ask, She looked tired, like she hadn't slept all night and Ruby couldn’t blame her if it were the case. “How are the other non-human servants doing?” She asked a little more quietly.

“Fine as things can be under these circumstances. Everyone’s a little nervous.” She sighed quietly.

That was to be expected after a pogrom, those not butchered were left to wonder when. When would it happen again, when will it be me?

“The human servants…” Blake started. “You can see the distrust in their faces.”

“I understand.” Ruby nodded.

“How could you understand?!” Blake snapped making Ruby jump.

Realizing what she’d done Blake folded her hands and bowed to the Witcher.

“Please forgive me, Mistress Witcher.”

“Forget about it.” Ruby waved away the apology. “Things are… tense right now, I get it.” She assured. Blake lifted her head but her eyes stayed on the floor.

“I’m human, yeah, but I’m also a Witcher.” She said after a second. “A mutant freak and an outcast. People think I carry disease, bring curses and ill omens down upon them.” She said. “I’ve had villages loose their hounds on me, refused to let me drink from the same water supply as them and even try to set me on fire.” She listed causing Blake to look up at her finally.

“I know how frustrating it can be.” She finished. Blake nodded. “I have to go meet Weiss. Watch over yourself.” She said before continuing down the corridor.

“Thank you.” Blakes quiet thanks still reached her ears.

The garden was empty even of servants. Ruby made herself comfortable in the cool grass, soaking up the warm rays of sunlight as she waited.

It couldn’t have been any longer than twenty minutes when she picked up on a very distinctive gait in the grass behind her. Her head dropped back and she found herself gazing upside down at the Sorceress wearing her traveling clothes. The blue jerkin and tall riding boots. Her rapier secured at her side.

“Are we going to spar or laze about in the grass?” She asked, planting both hands on her hips.

Jumping to her feet Ruby turned and slid the steel sword from its place on her back and gave it a twirl.

A smirk pulled at Weiss’s lips as she drew the rapier from her waist.

“Ready when you are.” Ruby struck a stance.

“En garde!” Weiss wasted no time going on the offense, lunging forward.

Ruby parried the straight forward strike with ease and spun swinging her own blade back around.

Weiss caught the Witcher’s blade against her own and was jarred by the force. She’d known the monster hunter would be physically stronger than her but knowing and seeing were two different things entirely.

Metal sang as it clashed and slid against each other.

She would need to be careful about which attacks she blocked and which she should avoid entirely.

She lunged again, attempting a few speedy strikes but they were dodged entirely and she frowned.

She knew she would be outmatched power wise, Ruby was stronger and a longsword was made for powerful strikes. She had hoped to traverse the gap with speed. She was faster and her blade was made to strike with deadly speed and precision… and perhaps on any other opponent that would have worked.

It would not work on a Witcher though.

The lightning quick reflexes given to them by their mutations was faster than anything Weiss could pull off without magic.

Ruby lunged this time, swinging her blade in a tight arc that the Sorceress narrowly dodged, quick stepping out of the long swords reach before spinning in again to jab at the Witcher.

Ruby jumped back narrowly avoiding being skewered by the rapier. Silver eyes looked at her approvingly.

Ruby held her blade in both hands as she began to circle. Piercing blue eyes watched her every movement, rapier posed and at the ready for the next flurry of blows.

Digging her heal in Ruby shot off in a flurry of quick strikes.

Weiss quickly blocked and dodged the ones she could but she was being pushed back and running out of places to go.

A powerful swing knocked her blade aside leaving her open and a shot of panic flashed through Weiss and without thinking her right hand shot up and a pulse of energy sent the Witcher flying and her sword clattering to the ground.  

Ruby laid still in the grass.

“Ow,” She croaked.  

Weiss stood frozen, hand still raised in the air before she realized what she’d done.

“R-Ruby!” Weiss ran to the fallen Witcher and knelt at her side. “Ruby, are you alright!?”

“Y-yeah… just a little winded.” She huffed, carefully sitting up with Weiss’s help and patting herself softly, checking to make sure Weiss hadn’t blasted any holes in her.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I… “ She hesitated.

“It’s fine.” Ruby coughed and stopped patting herself down, satisfied that she was still mostly in one piece. “I forgot. Never back a Mage into a corner.” She mumbled.

Weiss helped her stand and gave her a once over as she did. She seemed to be alright, it was only a pressure spell after all.

Ruby reached down and picked her discarded sword from the grass and slid it back into its sheath.

“Let’s just sit for a while.” She motioned and sat in the grass, this time Weiss took up the spot beside her, legs curled up underneath her.

A gentle breeze swept through the garden.  

Weiss frowned at her hands folded in her lap and scolded herself for letting her instincts sweep her away even for the briefest of moments. She could have killed Ruby. Obviously she needed to spend more time working on suppressing those reactions.

Ruby could tell by the dark shadows hanging over Weiss’s face that she was still dwelling on the accidental blasting.

“I wish I’d gone to Aretuza.” She started out of nowhere. “My job would be so much easier if I could just blast ice or read people’s thoughts...” She said. Weiss snorted.

“I don’t think someone like you would have enjoyed the academy. The professors are very strict and Students aren’t allowed to leave the island until their training is through. Not to mention the many lesson on etiquette and decorum.” Weiss explained.

“Makes me wonder how Yang made it through.” She hummed and than grinned when Weiss’s lips twitched upwards along with another quiet noise that maybe was almost a laugh.   

“Yang and I attended Aretuza at the same time and as I recall, she spent a lot of time in the rectoress office.” Weiss informed her.

“That sounds about right. You’re probably right too, Witcher training is back breaking work but one thing it does not have for sure are lessons about what kind of fork you use for fish. “ Ruby smiled and gently nudged her shoulder against Weiss’s.  

Ruby’s smile turned into a grin when when that finally coaxed the smile from Weiss’s lips. Pleased that the mage wasn’t looking so gloomy anymore and turned her gaze on the garden stretched out in front of them.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when cool fingers wrapped around her own and she turned to find the Sorceress’s right hand wrapped gently around her left. Weiss was pointedly not looking at her. Just that small bit of contact sent a shiver through her and she grinned stupidly out at the flowers

“Ruby…” Weiss called after several moments.

“Hmm?” The Witcher hummed, listening.

“How… how did you become a Witcher?” She asked.

Ruby turned to look at the Sorceress staring back at her, her eyes unreadable.

“So…” She started without preamble, turning her gaze back to the garden, “One night my dad’s horse broke through the fence and ran off, so he’s out in the woods looking for his runaway horse when he finds it… being eaten by a large angry forktail.” Ruby snorted at the story she must have heard second hand.

“Well my dad was a goner for sure if a passing Witcher hadn’t heard his yells.” She glanced over at Weiss. “When all was said and done he couldn’t pay the Witcher so instead in true Witcher fashion he invokes the law of surprise. ‘Give me the thing you don’t yet know you have.’” She said in a deep exaggerated voice that made Weiss roll her eyes but smile all the same.

“I thought Witcher’s invoking the law of surprise was a myth.” Weiss mumbled.

“Nope and hush, I’m telling a story.” She tutted. She saw Weiss scowl weakly but said nothing.

“So my dad gets home to my mom and he tell her about the Witcher and she starts crying.” Ruby flung out her right hand. “She was pregnant with me. I was the thing he didn't yet know he had. So six years later the Witcher came back for me so I could start training at Kaer Morhen, where I stayed until the master Witcher decided my training was complete and I started out on the path. The end.”  

“For someone who likes fairytales so much you're awful at telling stories.” Weiss grumbled.  

“I never said it would be a good story.” Ruby chuckled dryly.

“True.” Weiss agreed and smiled when Ruby pouted. “If you never left Kaer Morhen until you were an adult how did you ever meet with your sister?”

“Oh, well after I left the keep for the first time I went back to my parents home, to see them. Apparently they… had died from the Catriona plague while I was gone, but a man from a nearby farm told me where I could find Yang who I guess had visited them before. I found her and we traveled together for a while, that was before she had the workshop in Mistral.” She shrugged and turned to Weiss.

“I’m sorry…” Weiss didn’t know what else to say so she gently squeezed the hand in hers. Ruby shrugged.

“It was a long time ago and honestly... my memories of them have all but faded away.”  

They sat listening to the constant humming of the cicadas before Ruby suddenly spoke.

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?” Weiss asked.

“I mean I know what it costs to attend Aretuza and and I can’t remember where but I know I’ve heard the name ‘Schnee’ before.” She smirked at Weiss’s now disgruntled look.

“Indeed, I’m sure you have. My family runs a very large trading company called Schnee Dust Cargo.” She sighed.

“That’s where I heard it.” Ruby snapped her fingers in recognition. Weiss nodded.

“My grandfather started it nearly over a century and a half ago, when he became too old to continue, its governing was passed to his only daughters husband… my father.”

Ruby did not miss the way Weiss said ‘my father’ nor the face she was making.

“When it was discovered that I had an aptitude for magic I was sent off to Aretuza and effectively blocked from inheriting my birthright.” The bitterness that had slipped into her tone caught Ruby off guard.

“The SDC?” She asked. Weiss nodded.

“Before I was sent off to school my grandfather had been teaching me how to run the company…“ Weiss went quiet for a long moment before she suddenly stood, pulling her hand from Ruby’s. “I suddenly remembered something I must take care of, please excuse me, Ruby.”  

“Weiss?” Ruby called but the Sorceress did not stop and quickly disappeared back inside the castle, leaving the Witcher alone.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Later that evening Ruby was still thinking about how their nice afternoon had somehow gone wrong as she walked into the stables to give Zwei a good brushing. She came to a halt when she saw Weiss standing in the stables near Stardust’s stall.

“Weiss.” She said surprised, causing said Mage to look at her. ‘I didn’t know you were here… should I... go?” She pointed behind her, already taking an unsure step back out.

“No, of course not.” She said quietly before going back to Stardust. Nodding to herself Ruby walked over to Zwei’s stall. The gelding snorted and shook his head, pleased to see her.

“Hey boy.” She smiled and rubbed his snout before pulling open the stall door and stepping inside.

“Ruby,” Weiss called out to her, making her look up curiously. “I wanted to apologize… for leaving so suddenly today.” She finally said.  

“You’re an advisor to the King of Vale, if you’re busy then you’re busy.” Ruby shrugged. As she dug a brush out of a bucket sitting on the floor near a pile of hay.

“I wasn’t busy…” Was Weiss’s almost sheepish answer.

Ruby was silent for a few seconds, thinking about what she wanted to say.

“I know… but, I could tell you were... getting upset, talking about your father.” She glanced over at Weiss who stood quietly next to her horse so Ruby forged on.

“I can’t say I’ll be able to help or… even understand, but if you want to talk… I’ll listen.” She offered. Weiss said nothing and Ruby went back to brushing Zwei.

“I hate him.” Weiss’s cold voice broke the quiet. “He’s been dead for forty years and I still hate him.”

Ruby stopped brushing but didn’t turn around.

“When my older sister and I both discovered we had an affinity for magic we were both sent away to school as a way to bar us from inheriting the company as my father had a distinct distaste for anything that deviated from normal. Non-humans and Mages especially.” She sneered to herself.

“He and my younger brother who took over after him dragged our family name through the mud with their underhanded dealings.To say they operated in a morally gray area would be too kind.”

Ruby looked back at the Sorceress who was still facing away from her, running her hand through Stardust’s mane.

“I… can understand why that would be frustrating…” She began.

“It’s more than frustrating!” Weiss snapped, making Ruby frown. “It was supposed to be my legacy… I promised him.” She mumbled to herself so low Ruby almost didn’t catch it.  

A long silence followed, broke only by the occasional snort of the horses and the quiet scratching of the brushes on their coats.  

“I lied before.” Weiss suddenly said, causing Ruby to look up at her. “When were were traveling to Beacon and you asked me if there was a reason I named my horse as I did.” She finally glanced at the Witcher over her shoulder briefly. Ruby said nothing, unsure of what she could say at this moment.

“My grandfather.” She started. “He and I were very close, I grew up at his knee before I went to school. We shared a mutual love of horses.” She said wistfully.

“He owned a large farm where they were bred that he bought after he became successful. As soon as I was old enough he taught me how to ride.” She said all this with a sad fondness in her words.

“He died while I was away at school and my father took over his estate. He sold the farm and all the horses, including my grandfather's prized stallion, Star.” Weiss said this without looking up from brushing her horses shiny dappled coat.

“Some years later I located the merchant who had bought them all and found that Star had been used to sire a number of racing champions. I bought one of their descendants.” Weiss finished her brushing and stood quiet.

“So… Stardust… It is a nice name.” Ruby finally said after a moment.

“It’s… silly.” The Sorceress said, not turning around.

Quietly, Ruby crossed the stable, stopping directly behind Weiss, hesitating a moment before reaching out and wrapping her arms gently around the Sorceress’s waist, conscious that Weiss was finicky about physical contact. She pulled her in closer when she wasn’t rebuked and nestled her chin on the shorter woman’s shoulder.

Silently Weiss’s hands covered Ruby's arms at her waist and the Witcher feared she would shove her away but instead they just sat there.

“There's nothing wrong with holding on too things that remind us of the people we care about. That’s human nature.” Even as she said it she could feel the presence of the tattered red cloak on her shoulders more than ever.

“Even when there’s no sense in it.” Weiss mumbled.

“No one ever said human nature made sense.” The Witcher smiled when she heard the heavy release of air she knew was amusement.

“I suppose that is true.” Weiss agreed, pushing out of Ruby’s embrace and the Witcher reluctantly let her go so she could turn and face her.

“It’s late, I should be getting to sleep.” She said. Ruby nodded.

She stepped around Ruby and made for the castle but stopped short.

“Ruby?” Weiss called.

“Yeah?” She asked, eyes still locked on to Weiss’s retreating form.

“Thank you.” She said at last and without waiting for a reply disappeared around the corner.

[headcanonsandmore]

Can you do Hinny, nursing someone back to health during the holidays, angst, please?

Thank you for theprompt, anon! I don’t normally do angsty stuff for Hinny, but I hope you likeit!

 ———————————————————————————————————-

I don’t deserve you: a Linny Angst Fanfiction

Luna opened her eyes.She could feel the daylight slowly streaming through the half-open curtains,but the sight of it burned her eyes. She raised a hand to rub her hair, andrealised that her entire head felt like it was full of cotton-wool.

Luna could feel hernose streaming, and coughed, feeling utterly miserable. What was it that had wokenher up? Her still running eyes blearily looked around the room, and noticedthat the phone on her bedside table was ringing. The noise seemed to pierce herears like a hammer smashing into a pane of glass. Groaning, Luna picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

Her voice sounded likebarely a whisper, all cracked and distressed.

‘Luna?’

Ginny’s voice. Luna’sheart began to beat faster, and she could feel her face growing warm.

‘O-oh, hi Ginny. Howare you?’

‘Never mind me!’ cameGinny’s voice through the reciever, sounding concerned and worried ‘Are youokay?’

Luna could feel herstomach prickling uncomfortably.

‘Just a bit under theweather’ she mumbled ‘I think I might have got the flu. I suppose I workedmyself up too much whilst preparing for the holidays.’

There was a pause.

‘Ginny? Are you stillthere?’

‘I’m coming round. Giveme a sec.’

‘What?’

CLICK

The reciever went dead.

Luna felt her eyeswidening. Ginny was popping round? To do what?

CRACK

Luna’s bedroom doorburst open, and Luna hurriedly pulled her bed covers over herself instinctively.

Ginny, who hadevidently just apparated into the corridor outside, marched across the room.Luna could see that she was wearing an old Weasley jumper and jeans, and wascarrying a large shopping bag, which she dumped by the side of Luna’s bed.

‘Luna’ Ginny gasped,kneeling next to the bed, so that their eyes were level ‘How are you feeling?You look way too warm- your face is flushed’

Without warning, Ginnypushed Luna’s dirty blonde hair out of the way of her forehead, and put her ownforehead against Luna’s. Luna could feel her temperature rising even further-she could see scarlet strands of hair falling across Ginny’s face, and themorning light reflected in Ginny’s eyes.

‘You’re boiling!’exclaiming Ginny, her look of concern growing ‘No wonder you’re feelingrubbish- you’ve got a fever!’

Ginny reached down intothe shopping bag, and brought out a flannel. Pulling her wand from behind herear (Luna always thought that was really cute), Ginny casted a water charm ontoit, and pushed it onto Luna’s forehead. The coolness hit Luna immediately, andshe could feel her head clear a bit.

‘Better?’ asked Ginny.

Luna awkwardly nodded,her stomach squirming from the blazing look that Ginny was giving her.

‘Have you a wash yettoday?’

Luna shook her head,confused.

‘In that case, I’llgive you a wash- I brought some more flannels’

Before Luna could object,Ginny had casted another water charm on another flannel, hopped onto Luna’sbed, and had begun washing her arms.

‘Y-y-you really don’thave to..’ mumbled Luna, praying that she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

‘It’s fine!’ saidGinny, who had finished with Luna’s arms and was not washing her neck ‘I dothis all the time at work! You just focus on feeling better!’

Luna nodded, but shecould feel her face burning as Ginny washed the flannel out.

‘Luna’ Ginny’s face wasobscured by her hair, but her voice seemed to have lost something of itsearlier confidence ‘I- I need to do your back. Do you mind if I…?’

Luna didn’t trustherself to look at Ginny. She didn’t think her heart could take it, but shelifted the back of her pyjamas for Ginny to wash.

Luna could feel Ginny’shands touching her back through the flannel, and could feel her own faceburning. Her throat seemed to have seized up.

‘Okay- done’ saidGinny, after what felt like an eternity. Luna let her pyjamas fall back downher back, but she could almost still feel Ginny’s hands rubbing her back.

‘Have you had any foodsince yesterday? No…Okay, I’ll make you some porridge!’

And with that, Ginny strode out of the room,her face still unreadable and obscured by her hair. Luna sat there, her heartstill pounding. She climbed back under the covers, and put one of the wetflannels on her forehead. She kept re-playing the past few moments in her head-she wished that they had gone on forever.

All too soon, Ginny re-enteredthe room, carrying a large steaming bowl of porridge on a tray. The smell of itwafted up Luna’s nostrils, and her stomach gave a low growl that she prayedGinny couldn’t hear.

‘Dig in’ said Ginny,her face unreadable.

Luna did so. Theporridge tasted like heaven. Luna kept her eyes on the food, not daring to lookat Ginny, for fear of what she might see on her face. There were no sounds inthe room other than the quiet scrape of the spoon against the bowl surface. Theminutes passed slowly, with neither of them speaking.

Luna popped the lastspoonful into her mouth and swallowed. Ginny immediately moved the tray away,and sat down again on the edge of Luna’s bed, with her face still unreadable.

‘Y-you should probablytake a nap now, Luna’ Ginny muttered, her words catching on her lips as theyescaped

‘O-okay’ Luna mumbled,snuggling back under the covers.

Ginny turned to go, herred hair swishing behind her. Without thinking, Luna reached out and grabbedGinny’s arm.

‘P-please don’t leaveme’ exclaimed Luna, staring up at Ginny as her head swivelled round insurprise.

Ginny’s face softened slightly.

‘Of course’ she said ‘I’llbe here’

Luna’s mouth betrayedher inner thoughts and spread into a wide grin. Ginny sat back down on the bed,and Luna couldn’t help but think, as she closed her eyes, how beautiful Ginny looked.

Beautiful…the oppositeof that cellar….

And suddenly Luna wasconsumed by the old nightmare.

She was stuck, alone,in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. Dark, dismal and terrifying. She could feel the coldness and the emptiness again. 

Out of the corner ofher eye, she could see the thin body of Mr Ollivander, who looked barely alive.He looked more like a skeleton than a human, and the skin hung off his face,looking gaunt and lifeless.

In the room above, there was someone crying out in pain, and Luna’s head was filled with theterrified screams of Ron Weasley as Hermione was placed under the cruciatus curse.

The stone walls rangwith the screams. Luna’ head felt like it was going to explode with fear andpain.

Luna…

The pain, it was so bad.

Luna…

It hurt so much. Pleasemake it stop.

Luna…

No more. Please nomore.

Luna! Luna! Luna!

Her eyes flew open. Thedark cellar had gone, and Ron’s screams had been replaced by her own.

Ginny was sat besideher, her eyes wide and fearful. She was still holding Luna’s hand.

Luna could feel hereyes beginning to water. She tried to hide her face, but Ginny pulled her intoa tight hug, their bodies squashing against each-other. Luna could smell Ginny’swarm, comforting smell, and could feel Ginny’s breathing through her own chest.

‘Luna…’ Ginny whisperedinto her ear, her body warm against Luna’s ‘……I’ve got you…you’re safe’

Luna could feel herbody rocking with her sobs, as she clung to Ginny, her physical presence beingso real, so comforting and so warm. Ginny began to stroke her hair.

‘I-I-I don’t deserveyou’ Luna sobbed, as her tears began to soak Ginny’s jumper.

Ginny lifted Luna’sface up with her hand, and looked her fiercely in the eye. Luna’s eyes widenedas Ginny moved her face closer to hers. She could feel Ginny’s heart beatingthrough her jumper and Ginny’s breathe on her face.

‘Yes’ breathed Ginny,her own eyes watering ‘Yes, you do’

Luna could feel Ginny’slips as she pressed them to Luna’s forehead.

 ———————————————————————————————————-

Hope you enjoyed it-like I said; I’ve never done angst stuff before for this pairing, but I hope it’sokay. Keep sending those requests in, everyone!

[cinful-stories]

Bees? (Albert Burckhardt x MC)

(In honor of the release of Albert's story yesterday! I apologize for the lengthy fanfic spam, but I had some story ideas that I had to experiment with. This is one of them. Enjoy!)

(No warnings. MC adores nature and pushes for environmental conservation in this story. This is also a reminder to cherish your environment while you still have it!)

It was a particularly balmy day in the kingdom of Stein. Summer was encroaching on its final month, and its waves of scorching humidity had kept most of the palace staff indoors. The absence of the royal gardener had caused an infestation of brittle weeds to invade the palace walls. Grasshoppers were thriving among the blades of lush grass, and ants scurried along the cracks in the pavement, both unafraid of perilous footsteps pounding down on their spines. Aside from the hyperactivity of nature, there were minimal signs of movement in the Garden of Stars that morning, and that was precisely what Albert had planned for when he had invited the Princess of Wysteria out for a leisurely stroll.

“I hope the weather isn’t too warm for you, Your Highness,” the rigid knight spoke warily.

The man’s fingers tugged impulsively at the collar of his military coat, discreetly trying to expel the broiling air that had been contained inside without having to disrobe. Pellets of perspiration were dripping down his chest, causing his uniform to cling to his skin; however, his unwavering countenance did not betray his suffering. It was rare when he had the opportunity to engage the princess in private conversation, and he was determined not to sacrifice a single second for the sake of feeling a breeze on his skin. From beside Albert, a wistful sigh emitted from the princess’s lips.

“No, the weather is fine, Albert,” she mused, her eyes glimmering as they observed the scenery around her. “I couldn’t imagine being cooped up in a meeting on a day like this. It’s gorgeous out here!”

Albert nodded in affirmation and continued to peer at (y/n) from above his spectacles. Her skin was radiating with a healthy glow under the morning sun, and her cheeks held a dewy sheen to them. A faint blush had been painted across her nose, and her eyes were wide with enchantment as they darted back and forth, soaking everything in. Albert had to admit that the princess's admiration for nature was rather endearing to witness.

“I’m glad I could offer a reprieve from your duties, Princess,” he murmured, preventing his glasses from sliding down his face with a gloved index finger. “Are you sure you won’t be missed at today's meeting with King–”

 “Sir Albert, look!”

 In a flurry of fabric from her skirt, (y/n) whirled on her heels and sprinted up the path leading away from the garden’s centerpiece – the fountain. The princess’s golden heels stumbled through the grassy trails and sunk into the soil, undoubtedly coating her ankles with earthy sludge. Utterly bewildered, Albert watched with quizzical eyes as the Princess of Wysteria knelt down in the garden and began pulling at something lodged in the ground.

“P-Princess, what on earth are you doing? You’re going to ruin your clothes!” the royal knight scolded, trotting over to examine the damage she had done to her skirt.

“Don’t worry about my skirt. Nico made certain that I packed plenty of spare items for our stay,” she muttered, gripping something in her hand and standing up.

Cradled gingerly between the princess’s fingers was a single, white rose. Its petals were as light as freshly fallen snow, but the flower was beginning to droop and display signs of withering.

“I figured since it was already starting to die that Byron wouldn’t mind if I took this one,” she explained, her fingers moving to part her hair.

Albert observed silently as (y/n) tucked the rose behind her left ear. It was a beautiful sight, and she looked positively stunning. Moments passed by without speech as the pair locked eyes. A warm, summery breeze rustled the grass around their shoes, and a blue jay screeching from the branches of a nearby tree.

“Uh, y-you aren’t saying anything. Does it look bad?” (y/n) inquired meekly, the faint pink color turning red on her face. Her eyes were casted downward, and a hand flew self-consciously toward the flower.

“No! The rose is fine, but—” Albert began, scrambling for a fitting explanation.

The Princess of Wysteria had visited Stein on multiple occasions at the request of King Byron. It was known for miles that Byron Wagner had been searching for the next queen of his beloved country, and (y/n) had easily become the most suitable fit for the role. She was dedicated, poised, and trained diligently in politics by her tutors, but she was also beautiful, adventurous, and bold. It was an undeniable match, and it was rumored that Wysteria would soon accept Stein’s proposal of marriage; however, this was a unfortunate series of events for Albert. As loyal as he was to his king, he could not resist the magnetism he felt from the princess. It took everything he could muster to mask his feelings.

“—King Byron will be wondering where you got that stain from. It is not becoming of the future Queen of Stein to conduct meetings in filthy clothes,” he spat coldly, crossing his arms over his chest to contain the shattering of his heart.

The princess scoffed playfully and began tugging at her skirt.

“I suppose you’re right. If I’m ever going to get Byron to show an ounce of interest in me, wearing a clean dress is a good place to start. Let’s go back inside.”

Just as (y/n) was about begin walking, a blur of movement beside her head caught Albert’s eye. Hovering around the petals of the white rose was a plump, yellow bee. Its small wings were fluttering at an astonishing rate, and its spindly legs were prepared to station themselves in her hair. The knight could feel his heartrate increase rapidly as his hand fumbled for something beneath his coat. If the princess were to get stung on his watch, Nico would never allow him to live it down.

“Princess, don’t move,” he commanded, his voice dropping an octave and rumbling in his chest.

“Albert, what are you going on about? I thought you wanted me to get a change of clothes,” she protested, giggling sweetly.

“Please, just remain still,” he ordered, revealing a silver dagger from his inside pocket. The metal blade gleamed menacingly in the daylight and casted a blinding reflection on the princess’s forehead.

“W-What’s happening?” (y/n) yelped, her voice quivering.

Suddenly, Albert lunged toward the princess and thrusted the blade at the rose in her hair. The flower’s petals sailed into the air, having been ripped off from the stem with the slash of his small sword, and the bee flew alongside them, hovering tantalizingly above Albert’s head.

“Albert!” the princess growled, snatching the hilt of the dagger out of the knight’s hand. “It’s inhumane to slaughter what’s left of the bee population!”

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, (y/n) regained her composure and lowered the dagger, holding it firmly against her thigh. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her lips were moving downward in a sorrowful frown.

“Since a lot of florists have been using harmful pesticides to protect their plants from insects, bees have been dying in mass numbers across Wysteria. The death toll is so large that they have been formally announced as an endangered species. This has been having a harmful effect on the environment ever since, and the flowers that would normally thrive are wilting faster due to an absence of pollination,” she explained.

Albert gazed down at the princess dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the significance of such a microscopic creature. Why would a princess of a prosperous nation care so much about the population of bees?

“So you see, we should be trying to protect the remaining bees, not trying to slice them up with daggers,” (y/n) said softly, placing a gentle hand on Albert’s bicep.

A faint blush spread rapidly across the man’s face as he was rendered powerless by the young princess. Ripping his gaze away from her glistening orbs, his eyes fell upon the unsuspecting bee looming over his head. It was truly amazing to process that a tiny insect could potentially save the world.

“I suppose if such a creature means so much to a future queen, then I can at least try and do the same,” he replied, his voice emerging as a light whisper.

(y/n)’s face illuminated with relief, and her mouth parted into a grin.

“Thank you, Albert.”

The pair continued to lock eyes. Their skin was both glistening and coated in a soft blush as they looked into each other’s orbs, completely lost for words. Albert’s glasses slid off of the bridge of his nose and tumbled into the grass, but he didn’t mind. He was still able to see his princess in such a close proximity. Before he knew what he was doing, he began to incline toward her face, and his fingers felt for her chin. The tips of his glove traced along her jawline and ran along her cheek. Her arms wrapped themselves around the nape of his neck in a wordless response, and her head tilted in his fingers. They began to draw closer, closing the gap between them and igniting the summer’s powerful heat, aching to exchange a long-desired kiss…

“Ah—! Albert, help!”

In a huff of embarrassment, the knight stumbled back from the princess and whirled around to face the direction of the scream. One arm was already drawing his sword from his hip and the other was yanking the princess behind him in a protective gesture.

Standing at the entrance to the garden was Nico, his arms flying around his head. His countenance was scrunched up in agony, and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Nico?” (y/n) called inquisitively from behind the knight, peering over his arm at her flustered attendant.

“I-I came out here to f-fetch you for the meeting in a few minutes,” Nico stuttered, swatting at his leg with the palm of his hand, “but a bee stung me on my thigh!”

“Oh, Nico! I’m so sorry. Let me help you inside,” (y/n) coddled as she hurried toward the butler, nodding an apology at Albert before coaxing the boy indoors.

Left standing in the middle of the Garden of Stars, Albert chuckled jovially to himself.

“Perhaps bees are worth saving after all.”