#cause i can’t do watercolors to save my life

[yfantis]

Cringetober - Day 6

Unnatural Eye Color

B33 < holy shit i am a god damn DEBACLE of a thing arent i

[jraqn]

I’m answering these cause I want to

1. Uh Photoshop CC, Sketchbook, Ibis Paint, Blender

2. Both are pretty even

3. Drawing my favorite dream would be cool

4. My streamer elainaexe it’s difficult to get my drawings to actually look like her

5. Like 20% is posted maybe? I should post more but the perfectionism has me in a stranglehold

6. Whenever I see a cool outfit I’m like, I should draw that, and I never do

7. Watercolors. I love how they look but I cannot do them to save my life

8. I had an idea to do the “look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!” scene in Sadists Ozymandias animatic but with hunter from the end of thanks to them, and I technically finished the piece but I don’t really like it so I never posted it.

9. On the computer it’s 50:50 keyboard spam and actually useful names and on procreate it’s Untitled_Artwork Untitled_Artwork Untitled_Artwork Untit-

10. Big loose fabrics and jeans

11. Musicals and songs I can sing my heart out to are rlly good

12. Torso and booba

13. Honestly can’t think of any, I’ve taken inspiration and little tidbits from just about every artist I see

14. I love adding little plant stems into my drawings

15. At my desk or in my bed

16. Charcoal and graphite I used to love it and it was my main medium but I’ve lost interest

17. I usually drink ice water while I work and I’ll take snack breaks occasionally

18. Countless color pencils, an easel, a couple apple pencils, lots of paint brushes idk

19. Marbles and glass

20. Hands (as long as they turn out good)

21. @/tamberella and @/shroombies

22. Stretch my hands maybe

23. Usually I use multiply and overlay

24. Not usually no I get references mostly from pinterest

25. Anime/manga

26. Uhh a piece i made for school a while ago everyone at critique thought it was like a cool futuristic underwater city when it was meant to be a very dark warning about flooding and global warming

27. I usually just sketch random crap until I find a pose I like or I’ll do quick studies from Pinterest photos

28. I’ve done art competitions irl and a community art competition in elainas discord before, and this year im participating in like 4 secret Santa exchanges 💀

29. Atla franchise. I don’t think I’ll ever make fanart for it but it’s one of my favorite tv shows

30. My most recent one I rlly like it

[yslkook]

WRONG (3)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you find yourself at the tattoo parlor more often as of late. also, jungkook hates lemon jelly filled donuts and is easily bribed by mint chocolate and macarons. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

Sora’s unbridled passion for why she believes Jungkook is wrong for you has never irritated you as much as it does in this moment. You’ll never understand why she’s so adamant about the topic, when it’s not her decision. When she knows that you’ve been harboring a small crush on the man for years now, and you’re fairly certain he returns your affections.

When the man told you that he had put an orange heart next to your name, you knew it was real.

You don’t understand why Sora is determined to make things so complicated, when they don’t have to be. You don’t believe her claims that he’s a fuckboy, that he treats people like trash. He’s shown you the opposite. He’s so gentle with everyone, not just you. He’s blunt but he has a big heart under all of the leather and layers of black.

If there’s a word to describe him, it’s dreamy.

Which is why you’re so hurt that Sora refuses to give him a chance. After all, if she was your best friend, shouldn’t she offer him a chance for your sake?

It confuses you.

“I’ve heard so many bad things about him,” Sora says knowingly, swirling her glass of wine in her hands. You don’t feel very much like drinking, not when your stomach swirls in unease. Being in her apartment is nothing new, but right now, you’d rather be anywhere else.

“But what things? And from who? Jungkook is such a genuine guy and he hasn’t done anything for people to start rumors about him,” You protest, but your words fall on deaf ears, “And I like him-”

“I mean come on, have you seen him? The man radiates bad vibes. My friends have all said-”

“Bad vibes? You’re dismissing him because of bad vibes when I’m telling you that-”

“I’m your best friend, don’t you think I know these things?” Sora says, heat and arrogance in her voice, “I’m only looking out for you. It’s shitty that you’re dismissing me for a guy-”

“I’m not dismissing you-” But your voice grows smaller and smaller, something that you think Jungkook might be disappointed in you for.

“It sure as hell sounds like you are,” Sora sneers with a cold sort of tilt to her lips, “Listen. I’m just looking out for you, even if you don’t seem to appreciate it. I thought we were best friends. Friends look out for each other, but if you don’t want to listen to me, that’s on you.”

Something dry settles in your throat and something heavy settles in your chest.

“He’s not good news,” Sora continues, as if she can’t see your heart beginning to ache, “I’ll find someone who will treat you much better, don’t worry.” She pats your knee in a way that is supposed to be reassuring but you wince.

You don’t want her favors, but it’s too late for you to protest. Besides if you did, she’d feel awful and you never want to be the cause of her being upset. She’s your best friend after all. And what kind of friend would you be, if you upset her to that degree?

But still... you don’t want anyone else. You want the sensitive man who gets misty-eyed by powerful renditions of Beyonce songs, the man who texts you until you fall asleep, the man who asks you what color to paint his nails when he feels like it.

You kind of want the sensitive man dressed in layers of black.

You let Sora talk your ear off about all of the guys she has in mind for you, but you stop listening. You don’t understand this vendetta she has against Jungkook, the vendetta that she’s always had. But she is correct about one thing- she is your best friend and has your best interests at heart...right?

The four walls of the tattoo parlor that you’ve begun frequenting more and more often begins to feel more and more like a welcome place in recent days. You’ve always been friendly with the guys, especially Yoongi and Hoseok.

Even if Yoongi doesn’t work at the parlor, he’s here frequently enough.

Though Yoongi and Hoseok are some of your oldest friends, you’ve only come to the parlor a handful of times in the past. Once that realization hit you, you’d made it a point to stop by more often.

Why hadn’t you before?

They’re your oldest friends, but these days, you feel closer to Mina and Mei as well. While you do have other girlfriends who you see as often as your collective schedules align, it’s still different.

But still. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly belonged with anyone. You feel as if you’ve been floating through life, with Sora by your side (at least half the time, when she’s not spewing criticism over the man you have feelings for).

Thinking about it gives you a headache and makes you feel nostalgic for something that you never had. But maybe it’s something you can have.

“Hey, you,” Mei calls from reception, where she’s sitting next to Hobi who waves at you, “What brings you here? Finally gonna let me pierce you?”

“I brought donuts,” You shrug, “And I’m not ready for that surgical instrument to touch me, thanks very much.”

“You can stop by without the pretense of bringing sweet treats over,” Hobi says knowingly, “I mean none of us will complain about donuts, but you know that right? You can come by anytime you want.”

“O-okay,” You nod, your throat feeling a little dry.

“Now, come here and let me see what you got. If there’s a lemon jelly filled donut, save that for Jungkook. He hates them.”

“You got plans this evening?” Mei asks, grabbing her bright red purse that’s nearly the size of your head. Her purse matches her bright red nails and for half a second, you’re mesmerized by the glossiness of her nails.

“No, other than getting ready for tomorrow’s day of work-”

“Great! Wanna come with me to the tattoo supply store? I have to pick up more needles, grips and gloves.”

“Sure,” You shrug, a little excited at the prospect of a quick adventure for Mei, “I’ll just say bye to Hobi.”

He’s already watching you with mirth in his eyes, as if he knows what you’re about to say. “Hey, will you tell Jungkook I said hi?” You murmur, feeling your ears burning at his smug grin.

“Sure, I will,” Hobi grins, “I’m sure he feels bad about not being able to say hi to you himself. He’s had a busy day.”

“Understandable,” You nod, “I mean, you guys say he’s the best in the city, right? I’m sure he’s got a waitlist of people who want to be tatted by him.”

“Maybe someday he’ll tattoo you, huh?” He says mischievously to which you roll your eyes and feel your face heat up.

“He would be so lucky,” You scoff, as if the notion of Jungkook tattooing your body doesn’t make something flutter in your belly.

“We have this competition at the parlor where the person who makes the most tips has to buy the supplies on a monthly basis,” Mei says smugly, “Usually, it’s Kook but for the last few months it’s been me.”

That doesn’t surprise you in the least- Hobi has told you that Mei and Mina are both skilled in realistic and watercolor tattoos, as well as piercings. You think if you were ever to receive a tattoo from either Mei or Mina, you would tip them for the mere fact of them being so close in your presence for so long.

They used to intimidate you, when Hobi had first introduced you to them. Mina with her sleek bob haircut, and Mei with her long, glossy waves. Both of them had nose piercings and their ears were dotted in different hoops and rods. You’d only caught a glimpse of their tattoos a handful of times- Mei has a full sleeve on her right arm where Mina’s tattoos seem to be more hidden.

They’re just so cool and funny and smart.

“How did you all get the idea for the tattoo parlor? Like, was it a business decision or were you all friends before?” You ask curiously.

“Well… Jin, Mina and I have been friends since we were kids, our parents are really close. Jin had this dream of opening his own tattoo and piercing parlor for the longest time. Jungkook and Hobi joined a few months after we officially opened. It took a while, but we’re where we are now,” Mei says fondly.

“That’s incredible! You guys started from the ground up,” You say, in awe, “That parlor is your baby.”

“Fuck, yeah it is,” Mei grins, “What about you? What cool tech stuff is going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

“Um…” Your face heats up at the compliment, “I’m currently helping in developing this app for one of our clients, it’s specific for tracking and trending information related to chronic health conditions. It’s still in its infancy, but it’s been fun! And it’s job security, I guess.”

Mei lets out a low whistle, “Wow, you’re doing something like that by yourself?”

“No, I have a pretty great team,” You shrug, “Something like that definitely can’t be done alone.”

Mei hums, “You’re gonna be great, Ms. CEO.”

“Yeah right, I’d never want that burden,” You scoff, “I’m good right where I am.”

With both of your arms full of bags of supplies for the tattoo parlor (and some extras), you both walk out of the shop and towards Mei’s sleek, black car. It’s late, and you don’t really feel much like taking public transportation. But you’re nervous to ask Mei for a ride home for some reason.

“Hey, did you drive to the parlor?” Mei asks.

“N-no, I don’t have a car yet,” You reply, “I only just bought my condo and didn’t want to make another big purchase just yet. I want to start looking though…”

“Oh! I’ll drive you home then,” Mei offers once she starts the engine.

“Are you sure? It’s kind of out of the way from here,” You reply, folding in on yourself a little in the passenger seat.

Mei only waves you off. “Oh, please. What kind of friend would I be if I just left you to get home alone?”

You bite your tongue, as vivid memories of Sora claiming that she didn’t have enough gas in the tank or her asking for gas money for the ten minute drive from her apartment building to your condo flash in your mind.

“Thank you, Mei,” You say gratefully, “Let me know how much to Venmo you, for gas money-”

“Gas money? For a seven minute drive? Is that a joke,” Mei gasps, “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I asked!”

“Asking me for gas money,” Mei mutters, “You said you want to start looking for a car?”

Her smile twists into something mischievous.

“Yeah, I have no idea where to start though…”

“Ask your boy, Jungkook. Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin work at a car dealership and they’re his roommates, I’m sure he’d be eager to help you.” Something in her voice is coy but you maintain a neutral face.

“Yeah… maybe I will,” You say thoughtfully, “Hey! He’s not my boy-”

“Alright, alright,” Mei relents gently, “But really, reach out to him. He’ll help you. So that those boys don’t scam you like the sleazy car salesmen that they are.”

When you see Jungkook next at the tattoo parlor which is conveniently on your way home from work (again with a box of pastries), you muster the courage to step into his office to ask him for help.

“Hi,” You say weakly, “Umm… I come bearing gifts. Got some of those mint chocolate brownie bars that you like, and those macarons-”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to bribe me, baby,” Jungkook says, smirking widely when your lips part in protest.

“If I was trying to bribe you, it wouldn’t be with mint chocolate. Disgusting,” You roll your eyes and squeal out loud when he lunges for you, giving you a teasing but tight back hug.

“Take it back,” Jungkook murmurs lowly in your ear. You hardly hear him, too wrapped up in the warmth of the big black hoodie he’s wearing. The soft, gentle scent of laundry and vanilla floats into your nose when you turn your head to press your cheek against his chest.

His heartbeat is faint against your ear. You wonder if he can hear yours speeding up.

“Mint chocolate sucks. It’s a fact,” You mumble.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” His voice comes as a low grumble from his chest and you swallow nervously. Before your nerves can get the best of you, he changes the topic. “Mei told me you’re in the market for a new car?”

“I don’t really know where to start, but I’ve already started doing some research,” You reply, pointing to your small backpack. You pull out a binder with meticulously colored tabs labeled in neat print that Jungkook raises an eyebrow at.

“What?”

“You just carry around a binder with your research on car purchases at all times? Is that what you do?”

“I have to be prepared!”

“Sometimes you just need a vibe check-”

“You want me to purchase an entire vehicle worth about a million and one paychecks based on just a vibe check? Is that what you did with your motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook gives you a crooked smile, “And a little research. I guess.”

“You guess,” You mutter under your breath.

Jungkook has been more touchy with you once you had given him the go ahead all those weeks ago. He doesn’t show his affections with you unless you’re both alone, and it’s never anything more than hugs and the occasional brush of hands.

He’s melting you from the outside in, and you bask in his radiant heat. The thought of Sora’s approval doesn’t bother you, not when he hugs you like this.

But as always. Her disapproving voice worms its way into your head and you reluctantly peel away from him to sit on the faded burgundy couch with the box of macarons on your lap.

“So,” Jungkook says, immediately feeling the loss of your warmth in his limbs, “How can I help?”

tags: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe

[its-sixxers]

Swan Song

Ulfric Stormcloak is dead. The civil war is halted - for now. Alduin awaits. Idunn and Tandreth are all too aware of the fate of heroes.

(borderline wip but a snippet in apology for my absence <3)

Despite centuries living, Tandreth had at last discovered something he’d never witnessed before.

What it felt like to be a hero.

Amidst the ruin Whiterun rose from the ashes like a phoenix to celebrate - the dead were buried, injuries nursed, grudges put to bed. Tandreth still felt the sting of where the Ulfric’s blade had bit into his ribs, but the mead of Jarl Balgruuf had quelled his pain. Throughout the night toasts had been made even when the scent of burned flesh still lingered even in Dragonsreach - the Companions often the source of uproarious laughter, the local bard testing out a few new verses in his attempt to give the event justice.

Tandreth had been fawned over, and if it were only a few years ago he’d have been happy to take to bed a train of admirers. As he sat at the feast table, however, he was only all too aware that his fame was based solely on his proximity to others - and for the first time, he was content in that knowledge.

Azuraansi sat near the Jarl himself, nursing her single goblet of wine and leaning in conspiratorially between Balgruuf and Irileth, discussing matters he couldn’t imagine. Whatever they were, it brought a smile to her usually icy features - though colored with a hearty dose of exhaustion.  Tandreth smiled in turn to see his twin sister flattered and content, to be recognized for her ability and to, for once, not have her victory turn to ashes in her hands.

Most of his attention was diverted to the guest of honor, however.

Idunn - Dragonborn, who’d come to Whiterun’s aid on a dragon with he and his sister in tow, who’d engaged Ulfric Stormcloak in single combat, whose Shouts had caused lighting to crack across the sky and who sang with every sweep of her warhammer. She’d been like Ysgramor himself, like Talos, like any other figure of legend - auburn hair blazing, so young, and yet she could not mirror the smiles and cheers offered her. Instead she let Raansi engage with the Jarl and the excited elite of Whiterun, preferring to stare into her goblet of mead. 

Ulfric Stormcloak was dead. It was cause for celebration for many - it should have been cause for celebration for her.

Yet despite the man’s many sins, Idunn was no executioner.

By the time Tandreth finally managed to gain an opportunity to politely excuse himself from the feast table, she was absent. Unmissed - Talos was charismatic, Ysgramor larger than life. Idunn always seemed to try her best to fade into the background, to bore any who tried to engage with her. 

Slipping into the shadows was second nature, and all the easier with most of the Great Hall too inebriated to perceive anything but their own joy. Tandreth slipped away from the celebratory feast and into Dragonsreach’s state quarters, all revelry muffled by the thick oak doors closing behind him.

Moonlight trickled in through the windows of the back hall high above. The place was unguarded - whether those assigned to their posts were dead or excused was beyond Tandreth’s knowledge, but the thought of the keep’s inhabitants unguarded as they slept unsettled him. Quickly he made haste to the quarters that had been granted to Idunn - those that used to belong to the Jarl’s wife, at the pinnacle of Dragonsreach’s many steps. His own were at a lower level, and were it not for Irileth’s own status he’d wonder if it was a slight.

The carved door to Idunn’s chambers was unlocked, not that it’d be a concern for him if it wasn’t - and quietly he cracked it open to peer inside.

Idunn wasn’t in her bed. He knew it the moment the sound of snoring didn’t meet his ears, and quietly he slipped inside. The curtains shifted from an incoming draft, and he knew where to go.

Beyond the solar was the bedroom, whose north wall possessed a great stone arch framed by woven linen curtains that led to a stone balcony beyond. Multicolored lights spilled through the windows onto the four poster bed.

A familiar figure stood on the balcony, backlit by the aurora.

Whiterun’s tundra stretched for miles below, the night sky above splashed with the watercolor of numerous shifting lights. Idunn leaned against the banister wearing nothing but a man’s undershirt, hem laying across the middle of her powerful thighs. Tandreth could see numerous bruises blooming upon her pale skin, as varied in color as the night sky above.

“It’s your night, you know. You should enjoy it.” Tandreth said gently, announcing his presence. Idunn only turned her head a fraction to acknowledge him, her cheeks shining with what he knew were shed tears. Slowly he approached, coming to her side by the banister. 

“There’s nothing to celebrate.” she answered, voice thin. Yes, she’d been crying. “The Plains District is ashes. Good people are dead.”

“Yes.” Tandreth agreed, watching her white-knuckle grip on the banister. “But more would have perished if it wasn’t for you. The day’s won. Now’s for drinking, to forget the bloodshed, to relish being alive.”

Idunn dropped her gaze to him, looking more afraid than he’d ever seen her. It made something in his chest clench to see it - the whites of her eyes in the dark. “For how long?”

He offered his best smile in an effort to reassure her. “For eternity, if we’re lucky. Maybe Nine will become Ten. Say hello to Dibella for me if that’s the case, she’s always sounded like a fun time.”

The effort fell flat, for Idunn made a choked noise in her throat and looked back to the tundra below - to the embers that yet burned, further evidence of battle hidden by the dark. “There’s only one thing left, now.”

Alduin. A fear marked by the panic in her face whenever a shadow crossed the sky. A god. How could anyone kill a god?

Unbidden Tandreth’s hand settled upon her own, his dark skin a stark contrast to hers. The action stilled her ragged breathing, granting him some relief. “You’ve succeeded in everything. You can do this. I’m with you, for what little it helps. I believe in you.” The expected words. The words he was supposed to say.

Again she shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” she whispered. “It’s what happens after.”

“After?” Tandreth looked up at her quizzically, his traitorous hand gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Whatever you want. No one can stop you. I’m certain the Empire will give you enough coin to buy anything you please for Ulfric’s head-”

“No.” Idunn said emphatically, suddenly pulling her hand away from his. Tandreth’s palm burned from the absence. “All of the stories. All the heroes die. Ulfric was a hero, to the Stormcloaks. They never… They never…”

“Happily ever afters are boring.” Tandreth replied, anxiety building in his chest from this line of conversation. Ulfric’s death had rattled her, and he knew it was for more reasons than the man’s status as hero. This battle was beyond him, something scum like him had no hope of fighting. “And those are just stories, Idunn, they aren’t-”

“You said so yourself.” she interrupted. “Heroes don’t get happy endings. It’s a lie.”

It caused his cheeks to flush, bile to rise in his throat. Yes, he’d told her as much - told her in as few words as he could manage what happened to his mother, the Nerevarine. How he and his sister had as good as grown up on their own, never to have closure until he saw his mother’s ghost. How the last Dragonborn emperor had martyred himself, how the hero who’d brought him to the Imperial City scorned all glory and disappeared from history soon after. How all of Idunn’s efforts to do right were fruitless, how none would appreciate her and her name would disappear after she died trying to protect people who didn’t care for her - and now Tandreth saw the effects of his poisonous words. Self hatred flooded his system. Vile, venomous coward, who’d tried to drag her down with him.

“Idunn.” he whispered, and she winced at the sound of her own name from his lips. “I was saying whatever I could to dissuade you, then. It was cruel.”

“Was it false?” she questioned, words piercing something else in his chest. She looked him in the eye, her own, wide and green and so guileless, beseeching him for the truth.

Tandreth’s shoulders fell, staring up at her - at the aurora reflected in her eyes, unable to bring light to them. Honesty burned his tongue, but he offered it nonetheless. “No.”

Idunn took a deep breath and turned away from him. “I always knew it.” she murmured. “At the heart of it, all along. I’m going to succeed. Destiny, fate, the Divines - they’ll carry me that far. But after…” He watched her throat ripple as she swallowed. “... I’m not coming back from this.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I feel it.” Idunn shook her head. “In my bones. My heart. The air. It makes sense. This was my purpose, all along. I have no -” A pause and another wince, as she dared a glance back at him. Correcting herself, to a flutter in his lungs. “ - few friends. No family. I was destined to die before fate called on me. It was just a stay of execution. This is my purpose, what I’ve been chosen for, what I’ve been born for. There’s nothing after.”

A cold feeling pooled in his gut, and Tandreth felt the overwhelming urge to run at her words. To save himself. Idunn was convinced, and it was enough to convince him in turn. In his travels with her he’d seen things he’d never believe, proof of divinity, every odd defied. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. He’d seen it all happen before.

Yet beneath the cold an ember burned, fanned into a flame. No. He’d seen it before, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d tried to persuade her out of destiny, thrashed and raged against it. He’d tried to run from it already. The conclusion he’d come to was one constant as the rising sun.

Whatever would come, he couldn’t leave her. Even if he had to watch her die.

No.

Could he change fate? Change a certain path?

Of course not. He was a child, tantruming against the inevitable. Instinctively wanting to smash what he could before running away, furious at his own powerlessness.

Yet if there was one thing he could change - one thing in his blighted life he could do again, it was to say something. He’d left his mother with bitter words.

Idunn stared out at the tundra in silence. Could he leave her with the same?

Tandreth’s tongue suddenly felt thick, a wave of heat flowing over his body as if a fever. Nausea twisted his stomach. Suddenly all words failed him - he’d never had trouble with them before, always had a quick remark, but now this was important, now this was perhaps the last calm they’d ever have.

“Maybe.” he admitted, forcing himself to face the truth of it all. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe these are the last weeks.” His body was betraying him, vision clouding with blasted tears, his voice wavering. He could still run - Azura, how he longed to - but Tandreth clutched the stone banister as if it could keep him from being ripped away from it. He’d lived centuries, but a couple dozen months had given him a light he’d long thought lost and the idea that it was going to be snuffed out again was too much to comprehend.

Idunn managed to look at him again, pain diffused with confusion on her part. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, he was well aware - knew that the little wrinkle between her brow was one of concern. Knew everything, and tried not to think of how every scrap of knowledge of her might come to haunt him. “You don’t have to stay.” Her voice was tender as a kiss. “It’ll be safer.”

It was his turn to make a choked noise, and he tore his hands from the banister to settle on her biceps, so firm beneath his touch he nearly took comfort in it. Tandreth forced her to face him, to look him in the face. “No. Listen to me, Idunn. I’ve spent my life running. From everything. From living. Were this a few years ago I’d be happy to throw myself into the void alongside you - but I’ve met you now. In you I’ve seen that maybe this cursed plane is worth something after all, that I could be worth something. I want to live. I want to see what the future holds.” In spite of himself, he let his hands drift down her bicep, stroking her skin - took a step forward. “With you. Whatever time you have left. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her lips fell open, and he almost cried at how it took her a few moments to process it all - dear, sweet, simple Idunn - and he knew she had when she couldn’t keep the water from spilling from her eyes, collecting on her lower lashes like dew. “But you - you hate it. Hate this.”

Tandreth laughed bitterly. “Yes. I hate fate, I hate the work of Divines and Daedra. I hate to be helpless. But not you. Not…” His right hand moved up to her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Not this. Never this.”

Uncertainty now overrode all of Idunn’s fear, calming the maelstrom in his own mind. “I won’t let you die on my account.”

“You’re not listening. I want to live.” Tandreth repeated. “And if… if you’re right, I’m going to try my damndest to make sure meeting you meant something. To make sure the world doesn’t forget. Not just the hero, but the woman.”

“The woman isn’t anything.” Idunn said with a watery smile. “You’ll bore them all to pieces.”

“I’ll fight Akatosh himself if I can keep the woman on this world with me for one moment longer.” Tandreth nearly shook her, desperate for her to understand him, choking on the words he needed to say, before the end, before she was another one of his ghosts.

The fear in her returned, but it was a different fear - one he knew in himself. The caution, the hesitance, the disbelief - she was worried she’d misheard him, that she’d read too much into things. She started to pull away from him - she’d decided what he was trying to tell her was all in her head, and in response he pulled her closer.

“I love you.” he whispered - feeling as if he’d doomed them both.

[sweetestlamb]

Stronger Part 4 (A New Day Has Come)

Summary: Mun-yeong spends some time with someone important and a gets a surprise.

Author's Note: Got an annoying comment on this story yesterday and it motivated me to write lol so thanks! Hope you guys like and comments, that motivate me even more 😉🥰 nothing like love to drive out hate! The story is coming to an end unfortunately, I'm thinking 2 more chapters maybe three. If I had time I would drag it out for 9 😂😂 but schools start Monday so there goes my life. Happy reading y'all.

Solitude gripes at her insanity, tearing her apart until she succumbs to the thoughts that plague her mind of her inadequacies and how insignificant she is to those around her.

Being around Sang-tae oppa fills a portion of the void in your chest but his presence only reminds her further of another that she's dreadfully missing, his messages overflow her phone now. Taking a swift turn from condescending to something sweeter and more pleading. It takes every ounce of restraint in her body not to open them, relying on the bits she can see in the previews. Fully turning a blind eye to him is beyond difficult for her, every atom of her being is calling out for him.

She has dragged herself from the car too many times, desperate to run to him and soothe his pain, eager to see what he wants to talk about, maybe just maybe he's ready to apologize and unclench the clamp he placed on her heart that day on the beach.

But.

What if he isn't? What if he wants to share more of his past with her in the hopes that she'll overlook all that came before. In the past that might have been the case, she had been ever forgiving, something that only he was privy to. But his words ring in her ears- one time event, get lost- invading her dreams and taking the place of her mother's floating figure terrorizing her nightly.

Somewhere along the way she realized that she puts him first, his emotions and comfort have taken precedent over her own and when she'd searched what exactly that meant the answer made her head spin.

A four letter word that most humans will experience except Ko Mun-yeong.

She's much too selfish and destructive to be ever love or be loved by another, she knows that know. When he'd finally opened up to her, there'd been a plethora of emotions that clawed to the surface and vengeance had been one of them, it wasn't enough that he was sharing his darkest secrets because of everything she'd been through to get there. It was as if he'd stabbed her in the chest, left her bleeding only to return and patch up her wounds, too much had occurred and the scarring remained.

So she left in the middle of the night, abandoned that godforsaken place, stuffing expensive fabrics in a vintage Louis Vuitton luggage set, eager to escape the dead silence that rang out in the castle without the Moon brothers pumping life back into it.

In the end she didn't go far, finding a guest house that reminded her of that brief getaway with him, she paid for the week and turned off her phone fielding persistent check in calls from Sang-in. Gang-tae hadn't tried to call merely texting that they should talk and it was almost laughable that despite his seeming desperation he still seemed reluctant to go the full mile. Only her deep rooted sadness stopped her from chuckling at her circumstances, what a tragic mess.

She didn't let his current persistence fool her, fool me once shame on you fool me twice, well everyone knew the rest. It was time she stopped looking like a fool. Regardless of what she felt for him she knew that that this couldn't be, he'd been right all along.

I hope I never see you again.

So much heart ache could have been prevented if she'd heeded his warning. So she was doing it now, her anger had fizzled off tempering into bitter acceptance.

He would give up soon enough, that was his style.

The woman in charge of the guest house steers clear of her and the first day she lays carelessly on the bed roll, not even bothering to comb her hair. Simply, being. It's intoxicating and new, her phone remains turned off tossed to the side as she thinks about nothing- ignoring the way that nothing something has deep sad eyes and a bowl hair cut. She's trying to think about nothing and that's what counts.

She has food delivered and it's strange to eat something that isn't a Subway sandwich after all the food Sang-in as been bringing her and temporarily guilt forms in the pit of her belly, he's probably going crazy trying to locate her but she's just not ready. She's still tired. Bone chilling fatigue.

The next day she walks down a dirt road, her long white dress dragging on the ground, dirtied but the thin material allows a passing breeze to wash across her body and she's content, staring at the sky and thinking of nothing. She spots a lone bird sitting in a tree and wonders if all the other birds have left it behind, whether it has nowhere to go and no one to see. Then she berates herself for worrying about a bird, all this time alone is pushing the limits of her sanity.

The days bleed into each other, dawn folding into dusk with watercolor skies and earthy morning dew.

She tries to write but it's hard to get any words down that aren't depressing and she can't think of any morals or lessons besides don't let anyone in.

Then she tries her hand at drawing, a portrait of her twisting a deer's neck.

The guest house keeper asks her if she hates bears the next day and that's the end of that endeavor.

The week is coming to an end and she's no where closer to knowing what to do, maybe it's time to go back to Seoul, leave this all behind like a bad dream.

When she finally deems herself mentally prepared she turns on her phone, pinging and vibrating from all the forlorn messages, sputtering in her hand as she watches in shock. As expected Sang-in has called and messaged and threatened, she smirks at his empty threats, heart slightly warmed.

Ju-ri, Seung-jae, Sang-tae, and him. All their names flash on her screen. Surprising her, as she'd never expect them to notice her disappearance. Much less reach out to her. Strange. But she writes it off, maybe Sang-in had roped them all into it. With trepidation she opens her messenger and responds to one, keeping a promise, with a few presses and a selfie she sends the message and closes the phone with a sigh.

Done.

The next day the clouds are smoggy ash grey in the sky, darkening the skies into something fierce and she pulls on a sweater and forgoes an umbrella welcoming the storm. Electricity swelters in the thick air causing a sheen of sticky perspiration to cling to her skin. She dons a simple sleeveless mini dress and sandals, trekking to the familiar dirt road.

She walks for hours, aimlessly without a care or worry in her head. Thoughts of him still push their way in at times but she's come to accept that as her baseline, once she returns to Seoul he will be nothing but a faint memory of the time she dreamed too big.

The first drop of rain on her skin makes goose pimples explode across her flesh, fat and chilled as they cascade from the atmosphere. Turning her head up towards the heavens she grins bitterly at nothing, her whole life has been nothing but rain, the moment is oddly fitting.

Mud splatters to her feet coating her toes in sloshy brown that slides between her toes, drenched from the downpour she slowly walks back no haste in her movement, steady footsteps despite the speed of the rain as it pelts against her.

The guest house comes back into sight as she meanders to the gate, vaguely remembering that she'd pulled it shut yet the doors now swing open. Blaming that on the rain she steps through, pulling it shut behind her continuing to stride to the steps.

As she hears the sliding door she eyes catch a figure blurry through the watery sheet in front of her eyes, the voice calling her name stops her in her tracks, no longer able to pretend that it's a mirage.

Her eyes aren't deceiving her, there he is. Once again finding her in the rain, except this time she doesn't need to be saved, she'll be the one doing the saving. For them both.

She takes him in, the rain soaking his hair flat onto his face, clothes plastered to his body as he stands eerily still, dark pools intensely taking her in as well.

After the slight hiccup, she continues walking taking off her sullied sandals and tossing them to the side and then she places her hand on the door, prepared to enter and forget what she saw. Ignorance is bliss.

"Mun-yeong."

All he has to say to get her heart pounding like a drum, she screams in her mind. That time spent apart should have made this easier, why didn't this feel easy? All the fatigue that she'd been running from hits her like a freight train crashing through her passive wall.

"Get lost."

He moves to block her way and her rage simmers below the surface.

"I've been worried about you. We all were so worried. You can't just leave like that, why did you go without saying anything?" His voice is wavering between anger and something softer, more human that makes his voice crack on the last syllable.

"Move."

She's not ready to assess what his being here means, what his voice and his concern mean. None of it makes sense and she's going to file it all under: unexplained phenomenon.

"Can't we talk first, please?"

"I don't want to talk." She sidesteps him, reaching once more for the door.

"Mun-yeong let me explain, let me make this right. I'm sor--"

"Shut up. I said I didn't want to talk. Go back you saw me, I'm alive you don't need to say anything more."

She's not sure she'll be able to contain herself if he says anything else, she's already dangling off the cliff. She can't allow herself to fall and burst apart.

"No! Why are you pushing me away? I need you! I told you I needed you I meant that, you can't just run away damn it."!

She stares blankly before her throat croaks and laughter tumbles from her lips. Deep belly chuckles that shake her body viciously.

Then quick as a switch the laughter stops.

Diamond hard gaze locked on his bewildered face before she speaks, "You think you're the only one who wanted? Do you? I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to fight for me, to let me in. I wanted you to see that I was hurt and apologize and mean it. You think a kiss is enough, you think telling me everything is enough after you break my heart? It's not!" Her voice pierces through the cacophonous drone of the rain beating the world, crying its heart out.

He jolts at her pained cries, fingers reaching for her but she immediately moves out of reach feeling naked and raw under his stare.

You broke my heart.

She's shown too much of her cards already, it's too late to bluff.

So she'll take a page from his book.

Throwing the door open and slamming it shut, holding it tight.

He doesn't try to open it. She sighs in relief leaning back against the hard wood, feeling all the fight evacuate her body.

He's probably gone. You pushed him too hard. Who are you to reject him? No one else will ever tolerate you.

Her thoughts don't scare her, just like Gang-tae had chosen his brother and the life he knew she was doing the same, choosing herself and the loneliness she'd grown accustomed to. Why give him another chance to throw her away he was clearly capable of it, it was only a matter of time she wouldn't change. Couldn't change. Immovable object.

The rain falls and falls, washing everything away and making the world anew. She lays on her back wondering how far he's gotten in this downpour. How had he even found her? All questions she'll never get the answers to.

Sleep tugs her eyelids shut as her thoughts swirl until they too fade to black.

Hands held high over her head, she pulls her tired bones feeling the tension melt with each stretch. Gathering clothes to take a much needed bath she carelessly tugs the door open only to jump back when he almost tumbles into her room.

What.

"What? What are you doing here?" She shrieks, avoiding collision by the barest inch.

"Waiting for you."

She blinks at him, taking in his drenched clothes-noting his shivers- and the dark circles that sink into the skin beneath his eyes, resembling a raccoon.

Had he slept outside all night? And if he had was he insane, why didn't he go back home?

"Why didn't you go back? Are you crazy? You can't sleep outside in the rain!"

She blushes at her outburst, slapping a hand over her traitorous mouth. He merely looks at her, she overlooks the tender glint in his eyes.

Stepping forward he grabs her hand, she fights to pull her appendage away but he tightens his grip which contrasts immensely with the softness in his eyes.

Voice like warm honey he answers, "Because you're here and I.....need you. I'm not going anywhere."

The sun shines brightly outside as a new day rises somewhere in the distance a lone bird's call is answered by another.

[bts-trash-blog]

Golden: Part 1~ Moon

Summary: Watercolor splashes, and yet all that splashed on your skin was ink, while his was gold. Cold and warm. Sweet and sour. Love and lust. Yet it made so much sense..sadly he couldn’t see it.

Pariing: Min Yoongi X Chubby Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of depression, inscrurites, smut and some mentions of past toxic relationships. Just poor Yoongi tbh.

STORY PREVIEW ._. NEXT

You always had a tenacity to overstay your welcome in this little coffee shop down the street from your apartment, especially when you get busy reading a new story, always nursing on a cup of coffee that is ice cold just to watch the sun set. You always apologized profusely as you offered to buy a leftover pastry for overstaying, though Namjoon, the owner, had grown accustomed to your watch full eyes. Always letting you stay as he closes up, even telling you some new books you should check out, Namjoon had deemed you his friend within a month of watching your schedule. You worked early mornings at a shelter as a vet tech, working too many hours for such little pay. Yet you always came to his coffee shop after you had gone home from your shift, changed from your scrubs, and sat down ordering the same old black coffee with four sugars. He nicknamed you ‘moon’, he always called you it when topping off your cup, for free, catching your attention.  When you asked him as to why he called you moon he couldn’t help but smile his wide bright dimple smile your way.

“The moon is a hidden, and overlooked beauty.”  His words had your round cheeks turn pink, as you looked down at the book in your lap, shaking your head you looked back up at him and gave him a tight lipped smile.

“If only that was true Namjoon.” Your words were followed by a slight bow to the head, as you stood up and left, Namjoon left standing there curious as to why that had affected you the way it did. But he waited for your return the next day, yet that didn't come. In fact you did arrive back to your beloved coffee spot for over a week. When you did, your friend Jimin was following after you, his bright pink hair catching the older males attention, watching your skin, and when no color appeared he couldn’t help but frown. Hoping that was the reason you didn’t come in for a week, that your soulmate had taken up your free time and not his supposed to be soft and kind words. But the latter seemed to have been the case.

“Jimin, I swear the Shiba wanted me dead, all I needed to do was give it a nail trim and it was acting as if I wanted to cut it open.” Your voice floats through his ears as he comes by your table, your regular cup of black coffee in hand making you smile at him. “Thanks Joon, this past week has been a pain and I’ve missed this place.”

“Well then why didn’t you come in?” His question had Jimin chuckling as you let out a groan and smile at Namjoon.

“I decided I would pick up a double shift at the clinic for spay and neuter week, and let me tell you, I will not be doing that again. Jimin over here  was my saving grace, but the black coffee he got me was just not like the ones you brew.” Your words had his cheek dust rose, as he looked at Jimin.

“Is there anything you would like to drink?”

“I’ll take a passion tea, and a lemon cake if you have any.” Your eyes widened with what seemed to be joy, as you looked to Namjoon with a child like gleam in your eyes.

“Oh my, yeah can I have some lemon cake too, today Joon?” He chuckles as he nods, turning away from you, you watch as the brasita and owner of the shop walk away.

“Have you touched skin yet? Any color?” Jimins question had you frown as you looked down in the mug of coffee and shook your head.

“Yeah, no color, it kinda disappointed me at first, cause a tech with a coffee shop owner would be a match made in heaven. But I guess it isn’t.” Jimin nods in understanding as he looks at you, worry laced behind his eyes as you smile his way. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, which I am.”

“You have friends outside of the clinic?” His words had you pouting as you giggled and pasted your lips.

“Yes I do, I don’t want to talk about dog testicals and abeses all day, I would like to have a normal conversation without the mentions of an animal's bowel movements in it.” Your words had Jimin's crescent moon laughter, doubling over onto the table as he shook his head on top of his arm. “What? Is that a lie?”

“No, no it's not, it's just I love you that's all.” His words had you shake your head. Namjoon came back around, Jimin sitting up as he thanked him. When a new body behind the counter caught your eyes. Your lingering eyes on the board back had Namjoon spinning around, a large smile gracing his face as he saw his Soulmate working behind the counter.

“That's Jin, my partner in both business and personal life.” His words had you and Jimin staring at him in aw, realization that you have a friend who has actually found his soulmate. His eyes widen as he slowly realizes that too, especially as he watched as you and  Jimin seemingly communicating with one another through your looks. “Oh boy.”

“Soulmates, huh.” You said slightly leaning back, only for the chair you were in to slightly wobble, making Jimin almost spit out the sip of tea he had just sipped. The noise of your squeal, and Namjoons steading hands had some other customers look your way, making you blush as you stared down at the table, embarrassment smashing through your chest, but so was laughter.

“I can’t take you anywhere.” Jimin stated, as Namjoon kept his hands on your shoulders, no warmth, no color spreading down your bare skin where his skin touched. Though you understood. You still felt a little disappointed.

“First off, I dragged you here, secondly I can’t take myself anywhere, I always seem to trip or do what I just did. I’m a idiot.” You mumbled, a small smile playing on your lips, as Namjoon finally let you go. “Anyway, back to what I was saying before I almost wobbled down to my death.”

“Something about soulmates.” Jimin said, making you nod as Namjoon sighed and grabbed a chair, decided it was the best time to take a break.

“Ah yes!” You said with a smile, breaking off a piece of the lemon bread, almost moaning at the taste once it hit your lips. “You and that Jin fellow.”

“Yes, yes we’re soulmates, I’m red and he’s pink.” His quick reply had you frowning almost, not wanting to bug him with questions that many others had probably asked. “Sorry if that came out rude, I just like getting it out there you know?” Both you and Jimin nod in response as Namjoon smiles. “So any questions?”

“What do the colors feel like?” Jimin asked, making you lean in slightly as you sip onto your coffee.

“Warmth, but also...its a bit hard to explain..but fireworkey almost.” His words have you smiling brightly as you watch the board man move around, in the back, making orders. “It also took my family a while to accept us, heck I still don’t think they fully do.. even as soulmates, being gay isn’t always seen as okay.” His words had Jimin and you frown, you hand reaching out for one of his, Jimins doing the same. “I love Seokjin, I love him so much. But my family just doesn’t..I lost friends.”

“Well, you’re not losing me.” Your words had his eyes snap up, a smile spreading across his face, as you give him a similar look. “You can’t help who you love, let alone who your soulmate is.”

“Yeah, I know we just met but I would love to be friends with you.” Jimin said, his eyes lingering on the older man as he smiled, when all of sudden, you watch a baby pink spread across his neck, fingers resting on his skin as it slowly spread across his cheek from where you watch plush red lips press against.

“It’s time for my break baby.” The voice of you could only assume was Seokjin, Namjoon smile bright, his own hand pressing against his soulmate's skin, a bright fire like red spread across his skin. Splashing as he let out, watching the color on their skin slowly evaporate within seconds.

“Of course my love, welp it's time for me to work. It was nice to meet you Jimin, I hope I’ll see you soon Moon.” Namjoons words had Seokjin's eyes snap to you, a smile growing on his lips.

“So this is ms moon.” His words had you blushing as you looked down to your almost empty cup of coffee, you watched as Namjoon smiled and left to the counter to take orders.  Seokjin smiled as he took his soulmate's seat, his eyes bright as he stared at you. “I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin.” You nodded as you watch him reach his hand out, following you take your hand with him.

“I’m Y/n..or as Joon calls me Moon.” You chuckle a bit at the nickname as Jin smiled brightly at you.

“Joon is a mess, but at last I love him.”  You nod as you took the last sip of your coffee, your phone dinging making you slightly jump, as the two boys fall into conversation.  Looking at your phone you see it was from your roommate, Hoseok. A dance teacher at an art school, though he was young he was one of the best there was to be, he worked with people his age and younger, sometimes even a bit older than him. You and him had been friends since  high school, he took care of you, becoming your older brother figure. He was a dork, and kind of an idiot, but he was also your sunshine.

Hobi: Do you need anything at the store?

      Y/n: Can you pick up some more banana milk and some black noodle instant ramen? Thank you hobi

Hobi: No problem kid, I’ll see you at home.

Smiling you see Jin staring at you, a raised eyebrow as he looks between your smiling face and your phone. “Soulmate?” Letting out a laugh you shake your head as Jimin follows.

“Roomate, I haven’t found mine yet.”He nods as he looks to the counter and smiles.

“Well our sweet Moon, when you found them. I hope you understand to cherish them, and I hope you understand that you need to also cherish yourself.”

[annab-nana]

About Damn Time - Colby Brock

At Playlist, both y/n and Colby are busy meeting their fans and doing several different events, but the fans keeping bugging Colby about him still not having asked y/n out yet.

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 2.4k+

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"Omg y/n! Hi! I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!" A fourteen-year-old blonde girl with big green eyes beamed at me as she almost ran to me and fell into my open arms.

"I can't believe I'm meeting you! It is so much more exciting to meet you, I promise. What's your name, love?" I ask her as I hold onto her as tightly as she is doing to me. I will never get over this feeling of meeting all these people who support me. They have no idea the impact they have on my life.

"Annabeth, but most people call me AB," she gushed as we pulled away from the embrace.

"Well AB, I am so happy I got the pleasure to meet you," I say as I hold onto her hand. She smiles at me before pulling out a beautiful yellow gift bag with white sparkly tissue paper coming out the top.

"This is for you!" she exclaimed as she handed me the gift.

"Oh my goodness, you didn't have to get me anything. They won't let me open it here because of time, but I'll send you a video of me opening it because I'm sure you wanted to see me do that. What's your Instagram?" I tell her.

"I wrote it on the letter in the bag," she informed me, and I nodded.

"Smart thinking. I like that. Okay, now it's picture time." I say with a wink. We turn to the camera and take a few pictures. We take a normal one, just standing next to each other. Then one where I kissed her cheek and one where she kissed mine. Then we took one where we hugged each other really tight and had huge smiles on our faces. Lastly, we took one where she got on my back, like a piggyback ride, and we made silly faces. I sat her back down and we hugged each other goodbye.

"Don't forget to send me those pictures later!" I shouted at her as she walked away.

"I won't!" She screamed back as she waved. I waved back as another teenage girl walked up with her younger brother with her.

"Hey!" I shout, restarting the routine and meeting more people.

...

"Bye Mason!" I shout to the last person I met at my meet and greet as he walks away. We wave at each other before I turn around to Lillie, my manager.

"Drink some water. We will get all of the gifts and things together and drop them off at your hotel room. But you need to hurry. Your Q&A panel with Sam, Colby, and Jake starts in five minutes and is on the opposite side of the building." She informs me as she hands me a cold water bottle and my eyes widen at the last bit of information.

"I have to be across this huge place in five minutes?" I worry. This building is enormous and there is absolutely no way I can make it there in time.

"You'll make it if you head over there now," Lillie reassures me, noticing who anxious I got. She nods her head in the direction for me to start heading in and pats me on the back, signaling me to go. I started walking to the panel, but I knew I wasn't going to make it if I walked, so I ran.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" I heard a familiar voice ask me. I turn around to see my tall, curly brown-headed friend that I met through TikTok.

"Hey Merrick! I'm in a hurry so if you want to talk, you're going to have to run with me." I tell him as I catch my breath for a quick minute.

"I have a better idea," he tells me as he turns around and squats down, "hop on." I laugh as I do as he said, climbing onto his back. As soon as he stood all the way up, I felt like I was really far away from the ground. Merrick is a lot taller than Colby and Colby is the tallest person I've ever piggybacked on. He has to be a little over half a foot taller than Colby.

"Where to?" He asked, turning his neck to see my face.

"Conference room 1017, please." I chirped and he nodded before taking off. His long legs and army background definitely moved way faster than I ever could. My arms tightened around his neck to hold me steady and he gripped onto my thighs better to ensure I wouldn't fall. I giggled the whole way there until we finally arrived at my destination.

"Thanks, Merrick! I owe you one," I say as I give him a quick friendly kiss on the cheek and slide off his back.

"No problem. We need to catch up later when you aren't busy running around this place." We chuckle and I hug him quickly before walking in. I head to the back where the boys are.

"There she is!" Jake says as he and the others walk up to me.

"Sorry guys. My meet and greet went on longer than expected and then I was going to have to run all the way over here, but Merrick came and saved the day." I explain. The three of them nod understandingly as some guy tells us it's time to head out there.

"Come on guys," Sam says as he leads the way. We walk onto the stage as the crowd of fans scream. The four of us wave at everyone as we make our way to the table where Levi, a Playlist worker, sits with four empty seats beside him. We each take our seat before saying hey and beginning with the questions.

"From @golbrockjakeyscherer: Y/n, since you weren't in the first trap house, what are you most and least excited about in moving to the second one?" Levi reads from the question card before looking at me. The boys have cheeky little grins on their faces, ready to hear my answer. I giggle before speaking.

"Umm... I'm most excited about living with my best friends and all the memories and fun times we will have and I'm least excited about the fact that the boys are going to lose the prank war. Am I right?" I answer, receiving chuckles from everyone and some rolled eyes from the guys next to me.

"Someone is mighty confident," Sam comments.

"Sure am. You guys are going down," I add. Colby lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes once more causing me to laugh, making him smile.

Levi goes around asking each of the guys a question and then it is my turn again.

"From @ynandthetrapbois: Since you are a skilled TikTok dancer, which one of the guys do you think is the best dancer on TikTok?" He asked me before looking up at me from the question card.

"Well, I'm not going to say Corey because he isn't here and is a better dancer than any of us but..." I drag out as my gaze shifts between the three beside me. "Sam is out. Sorry buddy," I say, and he frowns and pouts.

"But between Jake and Colby, I'm going to have to say the best is Jake. Sorry Colbs," I tell him as I pat his back. Jake has a childish grin on his face, happy with his victory.

The questions go around to all the boys until it is back to me.

"From @taralicious: Y/n, have you ever kissed Colby?" Levi smirks a little after reading that one.

"Uh yes I have but you all saw that. It was for a video. The one Colby pranks Sam and Corey saying he finally got a girlfriend but that's the only time I kissed him." I say.

"What about that night we were really drunk?" Colby whispers to me, forgetting the microphone is right in front of him. I smack him on the leg before responding.

"They asked if I had ever kissed you. You made that move, not me." I tell him which causes him to blush hard and the fans notice it, giggling at his adorable embarrassment. I join in on the laughter as well.

I watch as Levi reads the next question for Jake and he begins answering it. As he speaks, I notice Sam nudge Colby, nodding his head in the direction of the crowd. Colby's ocean blue eyes follow that direction and he smiles, his cheeks tinting red again. I allow my eyes to go where his were to see what the two were snickering about and notice a few fans with signs. Once I read them, I realize what the boys are giggling about. One read, "What are you waiting for?" Another said, "Just ask her out already." The last one had, "Y/n + Colby," written on it. My reaction was similar to Colby's, a smile and slight blush.

After Jake's question, Sam gets asked about our next series and then it was Colby's turn.

"From @babybrock: Colby, why haven't you asked y/n out yet?" Levi smiles hugely after that one. The girls holding those signs in the back scream, "yeah!" That blush that has been repeatedly showing up on Colby's cheeks revealed itself again as did his cheeky grin.

"Umm, I don't know why. I just haven't. But don't worry, I will someday. Someday soon hopefully," Colby softly speaks into the microphone in front of him. The audience coos at his words and I blush and smile.

We finish up our Q&A and separate to do our different events. I walk along the halls before hearing that same voice from earlier.

"So, you've downgraded to just regular walking now?" Merrick says from behind me. I smile as I turn around.

"Yeah, I'm not in as much of a hurry as I was last time. Thanks for that by the way. There was no possibility of me making it there without you and your long-ass legs," I chuckle as he smiles and nods.

"No problem. Are you going to any of the parties later tonight?" He questioned. I shrugged in response.

"I might. I know Tara wants to go and she will probably drag me into it. But honestly, as much as I love Playlist, it is tiring me out." I fill him in.

"I feel that. It can be very exhausting, but I love every minute of it." He told me and I nod in agreement. Before we could talk any longer, my phone starts buzzing in my hand. Lillie's calling me.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" I assure him and he nods. We wave at each other before I answer the phone.

"Hey, Lillie!" I chirped into the phone.

"Hey y/n, so the other panel that you were supposed to be a part of got canceled so you are free for the rest of the day." She informed me.

"Okay, thanks!" I tell her before we hang up. Well now that I have some free time, I think I'm going to head up to my room and start filming me opening those gifts for the people that brought them. So that exactly what I did.

...

"Awwwww AB! I love this. You didn't tell me you were artistic," I gush as I admire the gorgeous artwork. She had made this amazing watercolor painting of her and me.

"This is definitely going up in my room when I get home. You should think about going into art. You have some promising skills here, Annabeth," I say to my phone camera that I had propped up on the tv stand of the hotel room. I sat the artwork to the side as I pulled more wonderful things out of the bag. It's crazy to me how well my followers know me. As I open a small box, I hear someone knock at my door.

"One second AB, I'll be right back," I whisper to my phone as I walk to the door. Getting on my tiptoes, I peek through the peephole to see who it was. Mr. Cole Robert Brock. I swing the door and let him in.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something that was discussed earlier," Colby informs me as he scratches the back of his head nervously. The act made nervousness and anxiety flow through my body, scared about what was about to happen.

"Okay," my voice sounded shaky to me, but he didn't seem to notice. We sat down on separate beds, facing each other.

"So, you know how the fans really want us to be together? You know as in a couple?" His voice sounded shaky and nervous as well. I nodded my head and felt a small bit of hope. Was he about to finally do it and ask me out?

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to get together for them? It wouldn't be anything real. Just for social media." As soon as the words fell from his beautifully parted lips, my heart fell and shattered. Its pieces were at ground level with my feet.

"I'm sorry Colbs. I can't do that," I tell him as I keep my gaze focused on the ground. Colby is not the type of guy who would ask me to do that, but I guess he isn't the type of guy I thought he was.

"Good because I was kidding. I want to be with you because I like you, y/n. So, will you be with me?" He snickers as he speaks and a huge smile spreads across my face.

"Of course, I'll be with you, Colbs," I say as he stands up, pulling me up to him and swinging around with me in his arms as giggles escape my lips. He sat me down back on the ground and stared into my eyes as he pushed some stray hairs behind my ear.

"I'm taking you out tonight, okay?" he questioned me, and I nodded as he headed for the door before leaving so we could each get ready. As I turned around, I noticed I was still filming.

"Oh my goodness, AB, I forgot I was filming," I say as I sat down where I previously was. I chuckle at my own stupidity as I continue with the video and finish opening her gift to me.

"Well AB, you are going to get a very interesting video," I say as I wink at the camera before ending the recording. As soon as I finish, I get a Twitter notification from Colby.

Colby @ColbyBrock i finally did it guys

A giggle escapes my lips as my fingers type away to reply to the tweet.

Y/n @y/n Replying to @ColbyBrock about damn time

[staylavendertea]

ya head canons cause my brain won’t leave me alone

billy is low key a skater boy - he skateboards 🛹🛹 converse high tops, ripped black jeans with bandaids on his knees, and oversized stolen boyfriend jean jackets rolled sleeves god yes he skates 🛹🛹 he and tommy will team up just to be bastards for like ten minutes and do that synchronized talking just to both annoy and creep the hell out of eli and kate

tommy is a rollerskater - and roller blades - the twins are skaters, he totally would have been a roller derby kid i tell you, also quoting everything he hears on the internet “what are you doing out here with all that ass double checked up on a thursday afternoon hella ass” “tommy that’s just a fat pigeon stOP” and even tho he did have a hard time for a while to open up to everyone and be emotional in front of the people he loves, with the help of everyone, he’s slowly learning he can confine in people and have relationships and bonds and that enough is to make me cry at night, i love thomas shepherd and his character so much

kate is always hung over, even when she isn’t - sunglasses on, looking like every day is too much for her head to handle especially with all these dumbass clumsy boys she gotta deal with, just let her chill with cassie at lakes and look at fireflies, but that lake better have good service so she can text billy the first scoop on that celebrity goosip - they’ve been following this shit for weeks, phone service don’t let her down now

teddy is an artist, sketching like always ya know, usually billy ends up unconsciously being most of the drawings, but his favorites to use is watercolor, pretty flat colors and making his friends look all blushy in drawings, the group doesn’t believe him when he says that they’re all cute so he’s made it his life goal to keep complimenting him cause he’s the nicest boy alive - a stranger calls bee cute, teddy will nod and agree because truetrue, but will send a semi threatening death glare

nate is like the teenager that will go on walks by himself and end up stumbling upon abandoned and creepy places and then either like billy/eli/or cassie ends up getting a call at one in the morning because he got either kinda lost or kinda stuck and the gang needs to come get him - he and eli probably have matching jojo clothing merch but eli is a repressed nerd so rip nate who just wants to have matching jojo sweatpants when they go work out together

eli may or may not have done the jojo pose trend of anime characters in the studio he does his boxing and martial arts, katie and cassie may or may not both of saved the video, eli is actually a total repressed nerd but won’t admit it and tommy can totally see it, nate can also see it, why do you think these three argue so much - nate just wants to be anime buddies i tell you - eli is someone who feels very strongly about injustice and gets emotional when all his friends back him up when he speaks out about it - please i need to see eli bradley in more comic books, give him and tommy the fame they deserve

cassie went to the broug and got herself some frogs - not only do i not know if i’m spelling that right or what it is, i just saw the tik tok and the cassie energy was too strong, she likes froggies and makes those tiny moss environments in jars and she likes to chill in nature and steal nate’s flannels and when her, katie, and billy are hanging out, cassie and billy will be gushing about boyfriends ya know with katie making gagging noises in the background

david is that dude that can just read people but is also like really chill about it “like yeah i totally just did a mental psychoanalysis on you just by who your kins are, but i know that you get kinda guarded about it so i won’t say anything because i love and respect you” i love david a lot okay, - he’s also resident technology please make work or i need you to look at this video or photo and prove this shit guy - he’s fixed poor nate has somehow flung this thing across the room like four times now phone on more occasions then he can count but he’s pretty chill about it

noh-varr is a non binary asexual dork that likes aliens and video games, he has a jacket that’s green and has a human getting picked up by a ufo that only says “fuck this. i’m out.” 🛸🛸 and him and katie have given poor mom of the group teddy a heart attack on more than one occasion being deadass serious about storming area 51

america has got her hat on backwards and is ready to fucking party and to mess around with her friends, the best part of her day is to get stuck in abandoned places and flirt with katie, her and noh varr go randonauting like every other day and get so lost, then her and the chaotic twins team up to be mischievous little bastards, her and teddy did pride and racial injustice movement graffiti that one time and she really just here to be the most badass around and protect their group and also like the whole world

(an extra billy one cause i relate to him on an emotional level)

billy is a film kid, like in a non powers au, he’s the dude that literally does all film related classes and is gonna be a film major and the best sfx make up artist, knows all movies/quotes/and endings - he’s the kid that knows the sfx stuff too well, he will liquid latex and cotton ball zombie your ass up if you let him to - you can’t tell me that his favorite genre of movies is horror monster and aliens, but also those pretty aesthetic romance ones that take place in country side france in small towns

these dorks also totally go to abandoned places for adventures (most of them stumbled accidentally upon by nate) and just have fun ya know

these are the most brain forth ones atm, i definitely have more, and will be adding most of these to the young avengers fics i’m working on, but please do add your own !! these dork teens are currently my everything

[girlofmanyfandoms]

The Angel and The Siren

A/n: Based off of anon prompt that I’ll post separately so y’all can see that! Ily anon, that prompt was just *chef’s kiss*. Also I got a lotta stuff to do, so idk if this is good or not (it’s not)-

Word count: 2000

Warnings: idk mate, executive dysfunction kicked in and this happened

Writing taglist: @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @holesinmyfalseconfidence @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty  @linhamon-roll @holesinmyfalseconfidence @linhamon2 @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart @vibing-in-the-void @clearlykeefitz

Linh dozed off to the side before jolting back to life. Marella shot her a concerned look, but she waved it off to the side. She had to fight through this. Sophie’s lips were moving, but all she heard was the distant calls of the wind mixing with the cries of dawn. Off in the distance, she saw a flareodon glide from the forest to the ocean, it’s beak gracing the water just enough to cause a beautiful rippling effect. Yet still, the colors blended and blended together, the world nothing but a watercolor painting fading away.

“Linh!” 

“I’m alive,” she blurted out. 

“Yeah, I almost couldn’t tell,” Tam muttered, grunting as he helped her up from her near-fall. “You nearly passed out.”

“I’m fine,” Linh reassured him, putting a great deal of her weight on her brother’s shoulder. “I just... need a breath of fresh air.”

“You should probably head home,” Tam suggested, though it was obvious he was restraining himself. “I’ll update you when I get there.” 

Linh had an amused look playing on her face. “Tam, I’ll be alright, I’m just tired. I’ll take a walk and see how I feel, okay?” 

“But-”

“I’ll go with her,” Marella offered eagerly. She flushed, and began to correct herself. “Just to make sure she’s safe.” 

Linh’s face lit up and she grabbed her hand, grinning from ear to ear. Her guardian angel had arrived. “We’ll be safe!” Marella called before dragging Linh out of the house and down the porch of the vacation home.

They drew closer together, Linh examining Marella’s features in full. Oh, she was an angel alright. Her eyes held a sort of fiery determination that dared anyone to approach her, yet showed the upmost sympathy for those who struggled like her. For those who were weak and beaten down before they were strong and built up. Sunlight cascaded onto her, making her blonde locks swirl through the air like flames from a newly made campfire, warming everyone around her. Like a halo. 

Marella blushed and glanced to the side. “Is there something on my face?” Linh shook her head and leaned on her a bit, pulling her into a side hug as they approached the shoreline of the tropical island hideout. “You just have a pretty one.”

Marella scoffed. “You’re talking?”

“Yeah, I am.” Linh waded into the water, letting the tides bring her underwater, just to the point where her face was above water level, hair floating around her like thin sheets of sea foam. She sat up slowly, and started swimming farther from shore, stopping to beckon Marella. Follow me, the gesture called. The beautiful siren waited patiently, a strand of hair in her face with her head at a slight tilt making her look both shy and innocent, and sly but deadly. The angel was entranced, so she kicked off her boots and followed without hesitation.  

When Marella got close enough, Linh held her by the waist, ordering the water to surround them like walls. She pulled Marella close and guided her in a sort of slow dance, letting the tides carry them. Linh’s movement were fluid, and Marella followed her lead, trying to focus on mimicking her movements rather than her heart threatening to explode in her chest. 

Deep breaths, she thought to herself. She’s just doing this to keep Tam and the others off her back. Linh hummed, resting her forehead on Marella’s shoulder. “I wish there was something we could do about this.”

Marella panicked. She couldn’t have meant what she thought, or rather hoped, she meant. “This meaning...”

She broke their link, bobbing up and down with the waves, gesturing around her in a vague, fragmented manner. “All of this. The Neverseen, the Treaty with the other Intelligent Species, my parents, the matchmaking system. Everything. I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted to live my life, just like everyone else. But now the adults are cowards and force a group of teenagers, two of which were banished from their society for years, to save the world. I just-” She paused, her voice cracking as she looked towards the sky to blink back tears. “I just want to be a kid. Is that too much to ask?”

Even Linh, with her sweet and innocent front, was breaking. She was crushed, and broken, and in pain, and it tore Marella’s heart into pieces. “I’m so sorry. I-if you don’t mind me asking, what was that like? Like, what happened before you got banished?”

“I was a kid,” Linh smiles sadly in reminiscence. “An unhappy one, but a kid nevertheless. But when I got to Exillium... I became a monster.”

“You’re no monster.” Marella frowned. “And didn’t the group say that they feared ‘The Shade’ because he was protecting ‘The Hydrokinetic’?”

She chuckled in response. “That’s what they wanted you to think. The others were scared of Tam, definitely, but not before they were scared of me, and not for the same reason.”

Marella raised her eyebrows, daring to swim a little closer and lean on her a bit. “Care to elaborate?”

“I guess it would help to let something out.” Linh bit her lip in thought. “And... if there’s anyone I would want to tell first, it’d be you.”

She breathed for a moment, her action syncing with the swells of the ocean. “I got banished a week after the floods. We were going to Councillor Terik to see if there was any potential that would ‘save us from our fate.’ Terik said that he wanted us to meet with Quinlin and Livvy first, to view our records and check if we had any medical issues. We also had to go shopping for clothes, makeup, accessories, anything to make the two of us look different, like we were born separately. But since we both manifested relatively young, and we hadn’t gotten into Foxfire yet, we couldn’t control ourselves.”

“And that’s when the flood happened?”

“No,” she laughed. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t have been banished. No, what happened was a combination of neglect, stress, panic, and misfortune.”

“So...”

“So something wasn’t supposed to be there, and we freaked out, and our powers crashed together and ripped the barrier open even further than it was getting.”

“It was already breaking?” Marella asked.

“It was old,” Linh shrugged, though from the way she was examining her damp clothes for lint, it was clear that the siren had told a white lie. She crossed her arms and looked down, presumably in guilt and shame, though most likely to fight off the wisps of pain and trauma that clung to her with a vengeance, like a ghost of who she once was. 

The angel was conflicted, but decided to take up her own strategy. She extended her hand. “Let’s get farther away from here. See what the jungle has to offer.”

Linh hesitantly accepted it, the walls descending slowly, soon at peace with the rest of their surroundings. A pulsing of emotions ran through her, a symphony from a past life. It confused her, but despite the vapor clouding her mind, she was able to make one clear thought.

Her hands fit perfectly in mine. Linh shook her head vigorously to clear it of those irrational ideas. She’d learned the hard way what getting close to someone cost. “What are you thinking then?”

“You said you’re stressed, right? Like you can’t be free?”

She nodded, eyes narrowing.

“Let me show you what freedom looks like.” Marella let Linh guide the two of them to shore, releasing all of the water trapped in their clothes and hair back into the environment. Doing an awkward hop to get her boots back on, she raced into the jungle, using her momentum to launch herself onto the nearest tree, managing to get her arms around the lowest branch. She swung her body up and let one arm hold her, using her other hand to aid her in letting out an ear-piercing summoning whistle. 

In a moment, the flareodon that had been circling the island landed on Marella’s arm like a hawk. Marella waved Linh over as it preened. “See? He’s free to go wherever he likes and do whatever he likes when he wants to do it; he’s got no calls of the sea binding him to a workbench and no looming duties of the hearth to dedicate his life to. And what does that make him?”

“A freelancer.”

“Free, Linh. That’s the key word. He’s free. And you will be too. You just have to have faith.”

“I wish I had that.” She sunk down against the tree opposite to hers, fiddling with a ridiculously large leaf that had fallen from a nearby plant. “And maybe there is some for you. But I’m a twin, and a previously banished one at that, and my life will be dictated by some stupid matchmaker trying to match me up with a stupid ‘powerful’ man that I’ll never love!”

The flareodon was startled by the quick escalation of her volume and took off. Marella, however, drew closer. “Is there a reason you know that you’ll never love that man?”

Quit the wishful thinking Marella! But still, her heart held hope.

“It’s based purely off of genetics,” she whispered, her voice betraying her.

“Linh, come on, I know it’s something deeper,” Marella insisted, bringing the girl to her feet. She diverted her eyes, refusing to even look up. “Answer me, please.”

“You know, you’ve got a lot of fire in your soul, Mare,” Linh murmured. “It’s admirable. But I think back and I analyze and there’s not a single thing like that about me. All I do is pretend to be an innocent little girl just to drag people down with me. There’s nothing admirable about that.”

“Hey, no one talks about my Linh like that, got it?”

My Linh? their minds screamed in unison. On one end, Marella’s cringe scorched at the edges of her mind. On the other, Linh was drowning in the overwhelming feeling she never dared to feel. Hope. Yet again, in the distance, she heard the wind throwing itself upon the raging waves. Though they weren’t raging anymore. They were systematically crashing together, a docile beat not so foreign to her combining with the whistling of the tree leaves to form the melody she longed to sing all along. Home. This is it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

Linh tossed her leaf to the side, standing up with newfound confidence. “You didn’t. You don’t have to apologize for anything. In fact, I should thank you.”

Marella laughed nervously. “There’s nothing to thank me for.” She looked around for a change of topic. “It’s getting late, you should head home. Tam said he’d check up on you, he’ll get worried if you’re not there.”

“Tam worries no matter what.” Linh shook it off. “And besides, I don’t want to go home alone. I like... being around you.”

“I like being around you too,” Marella flushed. She glanced to the side and picked up a fallen hibiscus that was still intact, quickly braiding it into Linh’s hair. “There. Now you can have a piece of me wherever you go.”

Linh smiled sweetly, pulling Marella’s collar towards her and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I think I’d rather have all of you,” she breathed softly, before stepping back and holding her crystal up to the Sun.

“Thanks, babe!” she called, a smirk proving her pride as she stepped into the light.

Marella touched her cheek, in shock from the confession, as goosebumps travelled up her arms. Her other hand frantically searched her pockets for her leaping crystal. Biting her lip, she glanced to the side, having to squint as the sun began its journey to the other side of the world. Surely the crew wouldn’t mind if she slipped away too. Besides, there was something more important. The siren called. 

[goldenfawnwriting]

Im Not Enough

A/N: Basing this one off the song July by Noah Cyrus, it’s what inspired me and I also painted a watercolor postcard to the song of Tsukki so thats what this is all about lmao

I’ve been holding my breath

I’ve been counting to ten 

Over something you said 

I’ve been holding back tears

While you’re throwing back beers

I’m alone in bed

You tossed and turned in bed, you couldn’t sleep if it saved your life. You were just too stressed. Tsukki never failed to upset you some days, he just had this way of picking up on your mood and finding the words to make it even worse. He attacked all of your weak spots and you honestly couldn’t tell why he was even with you anymore. You wondered why he hadn’t broken up with you, since he obviously couldn’t stand you.

It had been a week of straight torment everyday. You knew he was stressed with upcoming exams and volleyball prelims but you had tried your best to make it better. You gave him your notes, to which he said were worthless coming from you, you didn’t pay attention anyway. That one hurt. Then you made him fresh strawberries and pudding as a snack before he left for his game. He told you it was too sweet before a game and that he didn’t like it anyway.

You know I, I’m afraid of change

Guess that’s why we stay the same

You wiped tears away. It was nearly midnight. you picked up your phone from your bedside table, tapping against the screen to wonder if Tsukki was still awake. He probably was, he usually stayed up late studying but, did you really want to bother him? Would that be a mistake? You sent the text anyway.  

20 minutes later you hadn’t gotten a reply only a notification saying he had read it. With that, you concluded that he didn’t want to be bothered. You decided to text him again anyway.

So tell me to leave, 

I’ll pack my bags, get on the road

find someone who loves you better than I do

Darling, I know

Cause you remind me everyday I’m not enough

But I still stay

‘Tsukki we need to talk.’

You sent. He took a minute, before you got a ping as he replied.

‘About what.”

He replied. You sighed before beginning to type.

‘you don’t care for me anymore tsukki. I can’t do this anymore. It feels like you hate me anymore and I can’t do anything right.’

He took a while to reply before there was another ping.

‘I don’t hate you.’

Thats all he had for you. All he had to say.

Feels like a lost cause

just trying to get by, while we’re dying inside

I’ve done a lot of things wrong

loving you being one

But I can’t move on

‘You don’t love me either’

You retorted. It took him awhile again.

‘I do.”

‘you don’t act like it’

You were crying at this point, tears silently slipping down your cheeks. You wiped them away with your sleeve but Tsukki didn’t reply.

When you saw him at school the next day you didn’t meet him at his locker before class like you usually did every morning. It always seemed to bother him anyway, so you skipped it. You didn’t notice as you made your way to homeroom but, his eyes followed you all the way down the hallway until you turned into your classroom. He didn’t understand why you didn’t meet him at his locker. You always did. Even if he complained you always were there, every morning.

Were you really that upset? He wondered if there was something else wrong. Did something happen that you weren’t telling him about? Was someone bothering you? Was someone saying something to you?

He was going to go to your class and see you before the day started but he didn’t want to bother you. Maybe you needed space, then you’d talk to him at lunch. You two always sat together so surely he’d see you.

But when lunch rolled around you didn’t meet him at your usual spot on the roof. He sat on the bench and didn't even eat. He was too busy waiting for you to remember he had food.

You know I, I’m afraid of change

Guess thats why we stay the same

He found you in the front courtyard, talking to a girl he didn’t know. Maybe it was one of your friends but he never took the time to actually know them. 

“Y/n.”

He called. You gave him a look, your eyes glazed over, your face straight, like you were void of emotion at all. It was like you didn’t know him or something.

“Did you need something?”

You asked, your tone stabbing him in the gut. It was like you were inconvenienced by his presence. Like he just interrupted something incredibly more important. 

“U-uh ya..”

The friend walked away, giving him a weird look. He was majorly confused. 

So tell me to leave,

I’ll pack my bags, get on the road

find someone who loves you better than I do

Darling, I know

Cause you remind me everyday I’m not enough

But I still stay

If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave

And baby I’ll go

He really wasn’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you come for lunch? You didn’t even see me this morning.”

You sighed, like you were annoyed. 

“Oh, you wanted me to?”

He didn’t know how to reply.

“Well... You’re still coming to practice right?”

He asked. You turned away, picking up your things from the bench by the tree.

“I don't know, I’m kinda busy after school.”

You mumbled, starting to walk away from him. 

“Y-Y/n, you always come to-”

“I’m busy Tsukishima.”

He went silent at the use of his full name. What were they, strangers? There was definitely something up with you.

You remind me every day 

I’m not enough but I still stay 

He skipped practice for the first time ever after school. Instead he walked you home, letting himself in after you. He greeted your mother who just shot him a sad look before following you into your room and shutting the door behind you. 

“You never skip practice.”

You pointed out emotionlessly. He stood by the door as you sat at your desk silently. 

“Y/N what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting different-”

You finally broke, your anger seeping into your words.

“Different? That’s weird huh?”

He gave you a weird look. What was with the sarcasm?

“Yes..”

He mumbled. He didn’t know how to reply.

“I guess you don’t like being treated the same way you treat me. Nonchalance, annoyance, like you aren’t worth my time.”

“I-I dont-”

“Don’t start.”

He recognized the words he had said to you many times. Don't start. It always shut you down before you got a word out.

“Don’t be like that Y/N-”

“I’m trying to study Tsukishima.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“It’s your name.”

“You don’t call me that though.”

You rolled your eyes, his signature move when dealing with you. He felt his throat closing up and tears pricking his eyes but he swallowed them, refusing to acknowledge his fear. 

“I’m done chasing after you. I’ve done quite enough of that already. If you don’t want to be bothered by me then you won’t be.”

You choked out. He knew this was hurting you just as much as it was him.

“N-no, I don’t want you to stop-”

“Then act like you like me! Act like I’m not a nuisance! I’m done feeding your ego! I’m so done feeding your god complex!”

You yelled. He flinched. You had never yelled at him before, you never yelled at all before.

“G-god complex?”

“You go around acting like I’m just a stupid girl with a crush that annoys the shit out of you! Like you don’t want me around, like you hate me! No one can even tell we’re dating Tsukishima! If anything they would assume I’m hopelessly devoted to you and you’re just fed up!”

“I’m not fed up...”

He whimpered.

“Then act like it. Or leave me the hell alone.”

You growled, glaring at him with tears brimming your eyes. He wanted to go to you, to hug you but, he didn’t know if that’s what you needed or not. He’d never seen you like this. He went out on a limb anyway, pulling you into his arms, sitting down on your bed and pulling you into his lap. You shoved your face into his jacket, sobbing. 

He didn’t realize he was so cold to you, you always seemed happy about everything, he didn’t even know it bothered you. He sat his head against yours, holding you tight as you cried. One hand moved to take his glasses off and wipe a tear from his eyes as he silently let a few slip by. He would never let you know though. 

Another moment went by before he lifted your chin, pressing a kiss against your lips. He could feel your tears running down onto your lips and he pushed even more passion into the kiss. He heard the little squeak come from you as he pulled you as close as he could, kissing you harder. It was as if he wanted all of his emotions to be said in that one kiss. His hand holding the back of your neck, his other arm wrapped around you tightly. 

He would never come so close to losing you again. 

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Ch5

Chapter 5: The Kitchen Catastrophe

Bansha remained silent as Morro ranted and raved in the privacy of the carriage. He had lost whatever grip he had on his temper as soon as the carriage started taking them back home. Morro looked ready to kill somebody, most likely Lloyd.

"That insolent little brat! How dare he insult me!"

"Lloyd or Kai?" Bansha spoke out of turn, something she instantly regretted when Morro's scowl turned on her.

"Lloyd, of course! If it wasn't for that little brat or their ugly sister, I'm sure Kai would be mine by now! Doesn't he realize those two are the ones who are holding him back?! I could give him anything and yet he still refused me!" He ranted, clenching his fists in rage. "I mean, how naïve can he be? What must I do to persuade him to pop the question?" He scowled critically. Bansha could only shake her head. Morro was without a doubt a prodigy, but he lacked the most obvious common sense.

Kai was a dreamer, it didn't matter how rich Morro was or what society deemed appropriate.

He wouldn't chase Morro like everyone else. No, he was chasing the foolish dream of finding true love. A frivolous illusion of course, but nevertheless Kai believed it. Bansha had no doubt Morro would never have his 'precious darling' unless he convinced him to love him. Something she knew would never happen. She knew Morro well enough. The duke always got what he wanted.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Bansha spoke aloud and Morro's attention turned to her. Bansha hadn't meant to speak out loud but Morro could tell she was only curious. "I mean, you could have anyone you wanted, yes, Kai's beautiful, but personality-wise, he's the complete opposite of the man you want; why do you keep chasing him when you could have people so much more charming, obedient, and wealthy! You're the Duke! You're wealthy, well-educated, people throw themselves at your feet every day! You could replace Kai in an instant! Why do you waste your time with him when you could have anyone else?"

Morro chuckled darkly, a crackling sound that would make even the bravest of hearts shiver in fear.

"You've just answered your own question, Bansha." He smirked. Everything she said was true of course. Kai's appearance was in every inch the way a fairy tale prince was supposed to look, but it was his personality that needed work. Kai was perfect, but he was too brazen, too wild. He needed to be tamed, and he was the only one to do that. After all, as a Duke, he needed not only the perfect partner but also someone who would never challenge his authority.

In business or in bed.

"Because I can have anyone else."...

****************

The enormous landscape surrounding the Smith home was a sight to behold. A wide golden field and stables with a large pond in the corner bordered on two sides by woods and a house large enough for a large family flew by, unnoticed by its two youngest occupants as both Kai and Lloyd bolted across the yard and up the stairs to their house. Both ran surprisingly fast for all the bags they were carrying. Then again, it was Nya who was in the kitchen.

That alone was cause for alarm.

Both practically broke the door down, causing more smoke to erupt from the house. Lloyd batted the inky wisps away and coughed harshly before Kai found him something to cover his mouth with.

"NYA!" Kai howled, furiously, before stomping towards the kitchen, with Lloyd behind him. "GOD HELP YOU IF YOU'RE IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN!" He warned as both brothers dropped the books and groceries on the dining room table and stormed inside. The kitchen was still intact, but the smoke was everywhere, pouring out the open windows now that it had an escape. Huge spots of soot and ash covered the floor, the counters, and the stove which was wheezing smoke.

The wood from the old-fashioned brick stove had burned itself out leaving only ashes.

The bowl on top of it was covered in ash and looked even more charred than the inside of the hearth. Nya, the younger twin, was on the floor, coughing and wheezing, covered from head to toe in thick soot. Her midnight black hair tied in a ponytail was the only thing dark than the soot as her stunning blue eyes seemed to light up her face. Her tanned skin was revealed through the ripped jeans. When she stood to her full height in an attempt to brush the ashes off her, she stood a few inches shorter than Kai.

She also had a small beauty mark on her right cheek.

Even in her ripped, paint-splattered jeans and the light blue shirt she wore when she painted or invented and hiking boots caked in oil, paint, and covered in soot, Nya looked ravishing.

"Nya," Kai said dangerously low with a clearly angry smirk on his face as he glared down at Nya on the floor. "When Dad said you were never allowed in the kitchen again, what made you think he was joking?"

"You two were late." She replied, crossing her arms and trying to look as casual as possible.

"We're always late! That doesn't mean you have the right to try and burn down the kitchen! AGAIN!" Lloyd scolded. "What did you do this time? Forget to take the plastic off?" He asked and Nya's eyes widened guiltily, assuring them both that was exactly what she did. Despite being an excellent painter and even better inventor, Nya wasn't so good in the kitchen. That's why cooking the family meals was Kai's job. The eldest Smith sighed and smacked his forehead.

"Nya, you can't cook to save your life!"

"Doesn't mean I can't try!" She smirked, rubbing the soot off her cheeks. "At least I didn't burn anything." She mumbled. Both brothers glared at her referring to the black soot covering the kitchen. "You know what I mean." She snorted, ego deflated a bit. "What took you so long anyway?"

"We stopped at the bookstore, and Dr. Saunders found Kai's writing."

"That's it?" Nya raised a cool eyebrow in disbelief. She knew full well that her brothers could live at the library if given the choice but even they always came home on time.

"We ran into Morro on the way back," Kai growled.

"That explains it." She rolled her eyes. "What did he want this time?"

"Same old shit he wants every time," Kai replied, tossing a bag into Nya's lap, which she hesitantly caught in her surprise. "Help us put the food away otherwise no one's eating until breakfast." He ordered. Nya was on his feet in an instant, her stomach winning over her pride.

"You should've seen his face when he thought Lloyd insulted his!" Kai chuckled, making their little brother blush. Nya only blinked in surprise before grinning.

"Well hopefully after next week, you won't have to deal with him anymore."

"You finished your invention!" Both boys asked with hopefulness. Nya smirked and grabbed both their wrists before pulling them out of the kitchen and upstairs, where their bedrooms were located, as well as the room she and their parents used as a workshop. Kai sometimes painted something if he was bored, but he hasn't done it in a while. Nya threw the door open, revealing the wooden floor covered by paint-splattered sheets and blotches of paint-decorated walls.

The wall opposite the door was made entirely of glass, like a giant window allowing air and sunlight inside.

Blank canvases and stacks of papers and scrolls lined the opposite wall while easels with trays of oil paints, watercolors and charcoals cups filled with pencils, pens, and brushes of various, shape, size, texture, and design covered the table by the sink where water cans and jars held paint-caked brushes. In the corner sat her newest invention, while a tray of oil paints in various colors rested on the table next to it. The machine itself took Kai and Lloyd's breath away.

It is a wooden machine containing various types of gadgetry, including an ax.

This machine was intended to be used to chop wood, supposedly making it easier than chopping with an ordinary ax.

"Wow!" Kai gasped.

"It's amazing, big sis!" Lloyd hugged her. "Now I know you're going to win this year!"

"Let's hope so." She beamed as she wrapped her arms around her two brothers and pulling them both close in a hug. "Then maybe we can get out of here."

"Finally!" Kai cheered.

"Now, I'm gonna get changed." She released her siblings before strolling down the hallway to her room. "Unless of course, you want me to help you clean the kitchen and-"

"NO!" They both said with such force she was taken aback. Nya meant it as a joke but it seemed neither Kai nor Lloyd were taking the chance.

"Oh and since Lloyd will probably be too busy cleaning the kitchen you'll just have to suffer pasta with my sauce," Kai warned teasingly, following Lloyd downstairs, smirking when he saw Nya cringe. Kai's sauce was incredibly hot and spicy. It hadn't taken too long to clean the kitchen, since Nya had only caused smoke and soot to cover the house and fortunately hadn't really burned anything. Still, it took at least an hour to clean the kitchen and make dinner.

Those were two things Nya was not allowed to help with since all her elegance and grace with creating and movement seemed to cease the second she entered the kitchen.

Once they finished, the trio spent the rest of the night the way they always did. Closing up shop and enjoying the night until Lloyd finally fell asleep, resulting in Nya carrying him upstairs and putting him to bed. Nya could only smile at the adorable sight.

"What?"

"Nothing." She shrugged her shoulders, still smiling. "Just wondering what you're still doing here?"

"What does that mean?" He asked confused, before turning back to Lloyd's sleeping form.

"I don't mean, here as in with the family, I meant here in general." She explained, sitting down next to her brothers.

"Let's face it, I don't fit in here." He groaned. "I mean, no one here gets me, and I have no one to talk to except you, Lloyd, and the librarian; and if you say Morro I swear to God I'll scream!" He threatened her and Nya burst out laughing.

"I wasn't going to, but remind me again why you don't like him?" She teased and Kai snorted.

"He's not my type."

"Poor Morro, maybe if he'd stayed the same, he might have a chance."

"I doubt it; honestly, I just don't wanna get married, I wanna be in love when I get married, not just settle down for the sake of it, or give myself up for money; I wanna travel and write and make my own happiness before I start looking for someone to share my happiness with." He explained. "Morro doesn't care about me, he just doesn't understand me! I want someone who loves me for me, and who can show me they love me like even without saying the words, I'll know they love me."

"Sounds cheesy," Nya replied with a teasing smile, before placing her hands on his shoulders. "Lloyd's right, you are a hopeful romantic." She giggled. Kai blushed before playfully punching Nya's arm. She just laughed before smiling sadly. "But seriously, Kai, that's a pretty amazing thought." She promised and Kai blinked at Nya's sudden change of tone. They sat in silence for a little while before Kai took a deep breath to settled his nerves.

"Nya? Do you think I'm odd?" He reluctantly asked, scared of the answer. His sister froze and looked at the brunette as if he'd suddenly grown an extra head.

"Is this because of what those idiots in town keep saying?" She asked angrily and Kai looked up to meet her saddened eyes.

"It's not that," He replied looking away. "It's just... I don't know, I obviously don't fit in, but sometimes I wish I did; then maybe I could find someone who actually understands me aside from you and Lloyd." He added and suddenly found himself wrapped in a warm hug by Nya before he was released. Nya's gaze rested on him with a look of firm affection.

"Kai, you're an artist like Mom and me, just with words, that means you see the world in ways other people can't or simply don't understand and it's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things, it doesn't make you odd, or strange, despite what the idiots in this town seem to think, just different, and there's nothing wrong with being different." She explained like it was a fact that needed to be memorized. Kai wasn't sure whether to smile or laugh at his silliness so he did both.

"Thanks, sis."

"Anytime," Nya laughed and got up before kissing Kai's forehead and then Lloyd's before turning to leave the room. "Night, big bro." She smiled and winked. "And remember, Lloyd and I are leaving tomorrow so we gotta get up early."

"I remember." He smiled, before getting up and retiring to his own room for the night...

[lizzy-bennet]

Tale as Old as Time, Song as Old as Rhyme (Beauty and the Beast)

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Whouffaldi Length: 5,000 words Rating: G Also on Ao3 Summary:

Beauty and the Beast AU, or: a fairy tale retelling of the episode ‘Deep Breath.’

There is a prince, the villagers say, who is all things great and terrible. He has a voice that sounds like winter frost and a temper like a burning star. He is older than half the universe, has seen stars be born and civilizations fall, and thinks of a century passing as nothing more than a span of breath.

According to legend, the best part - or maybe, maybe it’s the worst part - is that when he reaches the end of one life, he can go on to the next. He can burn himself up with golden fire, the stories say, and be reborn with a different face, like a phoenix cheating death and rising from the flames, shaking off the ashes of its old self.

He’s a monster, some villagers say. A beast. A madman.

A fairy tale.

#

Clara Oswald (twenty-six and a governess, with far too many books and far too little patience for provincial life) likes to think she’s practical, and practical people don’t believe in silly things like celestial princes who can transform their face. They simply do not waste their time with bedtime stories meant for children.

Which is why Clara won’t admit to anyone that she believes in them, believes they’re as real as the lake that winds through her small, sleepy town or as real as the four walls of her tiny room at the Maitland’s.

If she tells anyone, they’ll tell her that all her reading has ruined her mind, that fantasy and reality don’t bleed together like watercolor paint on a canvas, but Clara knows better.

She knows better, you see, because she’s actually met the prince.

He is the stuff of legend, with stardust in his eyes and eternity in his soul, a high born Gallifreyan, the eleventh prince of the realm, and she is a girl from a small village, who works both as a barmaid and governess and waits and hopes and dreams for the day she can leave and see a world beyond her village. Their paths should never have crossed, and yet they keep meeting, again and again and again, like the universe has decided that their fate’s intertwined. And Clara doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind a bit, because he has a soft voice and a kind smile and gentle hands that somehow always find their way to hers.

She doesn’t truly know him she supposes, their chance meetings are always touch and go, like a brief ripple in a lake, and yet she’s already (hopelessly, desperately, breathlessly) half in love with him, and whenever she looks into his eyes, she swears he’s half in love with her too.

So, no, Clara doesn’t know everything about him, but she knows what sort of a man he is (a good sort, the kind you’d die for, but the kind who’d rather die than ever let you). Which is why she can’t quite believe it when the news reaches her that the ’beast’ in the blue castle up on the hill (how dare they, she thinks when she hears it, how dare they call her prince a beast) has captured her employer, Master Maitland, and is holding him prisoner just to be cruel.

Clara knows that there must be a mistake, that the prince - her prince - would never do a thing like that. So she lays down her book, pulls on her boots, and tells the two frightened Maitland children in her charge that she’s going up to the castle to bring their father back.

#

(She’s never been to the prince’s castle before, but despite this fact, finding her way up to it is not hard. Neither is finding its dungeon.

What’s hard is what happens next.)

Clara‘s fingers are wrapped around the bars of the castle’s prison cell, and she‘s staring at Master Maitland sitting inside. He looks dazed and half-mad, and he’s ranting and raving about incredible things, about a golden glow and a red rose, about how the castle’s bigger on the inside and how there’s a beast there who haunts it and Clara can’t follow it all.

“You stole a rose?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing, mind ticking away like a clock, trying to make sense of this tangled mess of a story he’s telling.

“Not just any rose,” a new, monstrous voice says from somewhere behind Clara, and she recoils against the grey stone wall, cold seeping in through her shawl. The voice that‘s speaking comes from the shadows, curling out from the darkness like mist, and she can’t see the speaker. “It was the last rose of Gallifrey.”

The words register, and the situation hits Clara like a wave upon the shore.

“No,” she whispers, “no, Master Maitland, tell me you didn’t.” “I didn’t know,” her boss sobs, bending his head and dragging it down the bars, “I didn’t know.”

Most people didn’t, Clara supposes. The story sounds like a fairy tale, all fantastic and fanciful: that the last rose of Gallifrey and the prince are connected, that each red velvet petal on it was a life to be lived, and to cause a petal to fall would be to cause the prince to die, to burn himself up and emerge anew.

Regeneration, it’s called. A fancy name, a pretty thing.

It still means death.

“Tell me a petal didn’t fall,” Clara begs the darkness, but even as she says it, she knows that it’s hopeless, that it’s already happened. And yet she can’t help but plead anyway, “Please, please tell me he didn’t change.”

There’s silence from the shadows, and then that voice again, all stoic and sharp like pointed arrows and jagged glass and it cuts her to the core as the voice says, “I did change.” Stars. He’s...the voice is...

The voice belongs to him. She’s been talking to him without even knowing it. And why didn’t he correct her until this moment? Why did her prince not greet her?

Clara says nothing for a minute. It feels as if the air’s getting thin and the walls are closing in, like the ground is crumbling beneath her feet and she cannot find a safe place to land. Clara tries to trace the silhouette in the shadows, tries to piece together a picture of this new man, but she cannot.

“Step into the light,” she says.

Her words hang in the air, half a command, half a dare, and then a man she doesn’t recognize emerges from the darkness.

He has grey hair and anger-filled eyes, and his face is all sharp angles and hard lines. It’s not his change in appearance that makes her heart twist all raw and painful, it’s his demeanor. He stands there, squinting at her, arms stiff at his sides, and the prince, the prince Clara knows, (her prince, she thinks rather possessively), would run to her, kiss her forehead, take her hand. Her prince had sparkled with energy, like a shooting star, all bright and glittering and always in motion.

But even shooting stars fade to nothing eventually.

“Strax?” the man asks, glaring down at her, like she’s some sort of puzzle he can’t figure out. “Clara,” she chokes out. She can’t believe he’s getting her mixed up with one of his odd servants, let alone the one that resembles a rather angry, enchanted potato. “It’s Clara.”

He shrugs. “It might be, you two are very similar heights, so I’m not sure.”

“It is Clara,” she snaps, and her voice comes out angrier than she intends it too, all loud and hard, but she can’t help it, can’t help it that she’s trying to grasp the fact that the man she loves is dead, and yet he still stands in front of her. Insulting her, of all things.

“Well, Clara,” he says, saying her name in a beastly growl, as if it might not really be her name at all, ”the pudding brain in the cell over there stole the last rose of Gallifrey, killing one of my lives. According to the ancient law of my kingdom, the murderer must die too; a life for a life.”

Clara shakes her head in disbelief, in outrage, “That’s stupid.”

“I agree,” he replies, and Clara feels a glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe, maybe her prince is still in there somewhere, buried beneath the grey hair and gravely voice and rude insults. “However, I cannot completely circumvent ancient law without consequences. I can save him from death, but a life still has to be exchanged for a life. He has to remain here as a prisoner.”

Clara glances at Master Maitland, alone in his cell, sentenced to be there forever, and she thinks.

She thinks of her book, 101 Places to See, stuck snug in her shelf, pages unopened and list uncrossed. She thinks of her grand plans and the maps she’s poured over, of adventure in the great wide somewhere and how she wants more, more, more. More of the world and more of the wonders that exist beyond the pages of her books and so much more than this provincial life.

But then she thinks of the two children back home, who only have one living parent left, who have already known far too great a loss at far too young an age. It’s a feeling Clara knows all too well, and there’s still grief from her own loss etched into her memories and onto her skin. She won’t let anyone on this Earth go through what she went through, she decides, not if she can help it.

Which is why she says, “Take me instead.”   #

Clara expects to stay in the prison cell, but Strax (Odd and brown and round and surely enchanted and how, how, how did that beast ever mix her up with him?) leads her down the halls of the blue castle that somehow really does seem bigger on the inside. Whenever Clara thinks that surely, surely they are on the lowest floor, or that they have reached a wall, there is still another spiral staircase downward, or yet another corridor, and the passageways shift and change and shimmer with starlight.

She should be scared, she thinks, she should be absolutely terrified. Clara has always fancied herself as a practical person, and practical people should be frightened of things like glowing walls that rearrange themselves.

But she is not. For once, she thinks, this is something new. This is something brilliant and spectacular and something so, so much more than her sleepy little village with its sleepy little people.

Clara almost forgets that she is being led somewhere and not just exploring (and really, that’s what she’d like to do, push the boundaries of this strange castle just for the fun of seeing how far she can push), when Strax stops abruptly at a door.

“I suggested we disintegrate you in acid,” Strax tells her, plainly and rather pleasantly. “But the Master insists that you are his guest, and that I put you here, in the Belle Room.”

Strax opens the door and a gasp of oh my stars leaves Clara’s lips, because she can see why it’s called the Belle Room. It has marble columns and etched carvings and gold leaf, and stained glass that sends mosaics the colors of rubies and sapphires across the floor.

“He also demands I tell you that you are free to go wherever you like in the castle,” Strax says, and he looks utterly disgusted, like the very idea of letting her wander about instead of locking her up is repulsive. “Even the West Wing, if you can find it. But the castle itself is very peculiar about that wing, probably won’t let you near it anyhow.”

And, yes, Clara could be scared, but all she can think of is how this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her in all her life, that here, there are enchanted corridors that lead to who knows where and the promise of something exciting, something dazzling, and back home...back home there are only orders and lessons and laundry and the same few books she’s read over and over again.

101 Places to See, she thinks. She’ll come for them all, one day, she can swear to that, but for now...this is a promising substitute.

#

His eyes are as blue as a clear winter sky, but his voice is as cold as one. If he’s snapping or snarking at her it’s fine, because Clara has always been able to give as good as she gets. Their fast chatter, their back and forth banter, is a dance she’s familiar with, one that reminds her of her old prince. But him ignoring her, or treating her as if he’s indifferent to her, hurts in a way she can’t quite explain. They used to talk endlessly when they met, packing in a month’s worth of conversation in minutes as she talked about all the places she wanted to go and he told her about all the places he’d been.

But now the only time he bothers to talk to her is when he asks her to dinner.

(“No,” she snaps at his invitation - if you can call a single word said in a flippant manner an invitation. And No is what she always says, because really, how dare he disappear on her all day, every day, and then arrive at her door without so much as a ’Hello’ or ‘Sorry I got you mixed up with an enchanted potato man,’ and pretend he’s a civil person who can eat a civil dinner?

“Impossible girl,” he snaps back at her, which is what he always does.

At any rate, she thinks it’s better that he calls her that instead of calling her Strax.)

#

Clara seeks him out one day. She doesn’t even realize she is, but when she lays eyes on his form - with his coat as black as night with its flashes of red as bright as rose petals - Clara cannot deny that it was him she was looking for.

He’s in the West Wing, which she swears the castle rearranged on her because it’s most definitely not in the West, and she’s not even sure if the small circular room could even be considered a wing.

And it took her nearly three weeks of wandering to find it. (The castle, she thinks, much to her annoyance, doesn’t like her. She wonders if it’s owner feels the same.)

And speaking of it’s owner: his back is to her, and he’s writing on a chalkboard, his long, clever fingers drawing intricate spheres across the black, and the words look like bright white stars bursting forth out of the darkness.

(He writes in a long-dead language, one Clara can’t read, but she thinks...she thinks he’s writing something that’s half poetry, half arithmetic.)

“We used to meet,” she starts off saying, and then she laughs, backtracks, realizes what an understatement that is for whatever really happened between them. “I mean, we’d meet again and again and again, by a pond, behind a pub, in the snow, anywhere. Everywhere. And always on a Wednesday. Why?”

He shrugs. “Wednesdays are nice.”

“Yeah, but he sought me out. Why?” “I,” he corrects her, and beneath his calm demeanor, there’s something like a beastly growl to his words. “I sought you out, Clara. I’m still the same man underneath.”

”Sorry,” she says, and she is sorry, she doesn’t want to hurt him. “I know you’re the same.”

It’s a lie. They both know it. But for now, he lets it slide.

“I was going to ask you to travel with me,” he admits quietly, back still to her.

The idea of him ever offering that to her makes Clara’s heart beat fast, fluttering out a melody against her ribcage. ”Why?”

“I travel frequently, and always with a companion.”

“No,” Clara shuts her eyes, lets out a breath. “No, that’s not what I meant, why would -“ the word he is on the tip of her tongue, but she catches it, changes it, “why would you ask me?” He laughs, “Clara Oswald: Too big of a mind for so small of a town. A governess and a barmaid, with so much practicalness in her actions and yet all those dreams in her mind, so many contradictions all wrapped up in one person. How could I resist?”

Show me the stars, her mind begs him silently, offer to take me away and give me adventure in the great wide somewhere. I’d say yes. “It's a pity you never offered,” she says. She’s testing him, baiting him, and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks she should feel self-conscious and ashamed, but she doesn’t, because never has she ever wanted anything so badly.

“Yes,” he says, a bit stiffly, “it’s a pity.”

He says nothing more, silence stretching out between them, and though they stand a few feet apart, though Clara is close enough to reach out and take his hand, the divide between them seems to be as wide and fierce as a black hole that can suck down burning stars and swallow entire planets.

Clara steps away, face falling, silently nodding. He says he’s the same man, says he was going to offer to travel with her, but he doesn't offer now. He must not feel the same way about her, she realizes, not anymore.

(She never stops to think that maybe he doesn’t offer because he’s afraid she’ll say no.) # And this is how they are: three steps forward and two steps back. But they keep being drawn to each other, like there is something tying the two of them together.

It’s as if the universe is saying, these two, it will always be these two. Stars may fall and planets may burn, times will change and people will too, but it will always, always, always be them together: Clara Oswald and the last prince of Gallifrey.

Even if they don’t know it yet.

#

“You’re free to go, you know,” he says out of the blue one day, all sudden and Scottish and abrupt, and Clara can’t help but think he’s trying to kick her out. He still hasn’t extended that offer to travel with him, much to her disappointment, and now he’s saying that she can leave. She wonders if he’s gotten tired of having a short, stubborn girl meander about his castle walls (insulting them more often than not) in search of something dazzling.

“You’re no longer my prisoner. You never really ever were,” he admits.

“Never really thought I was,” Clara replies. “Most prison cells don’t look like my room here.”

There’s more to say. That she knew that he may be cold, but never cruel, that she had guessed his blustering and flippancy hid someone who cared. That she’s not scared of him, she’s just...well, she doesn’t think she really knows who he is anymore. Or what he thinks of her. But she says none of that. Instead, she settles for lifting her chin and saying, “Besides, I could have escaped any time I wanted.”

He arches an eyebrow at her.

“I’m very clever you know,” Clara continues, unfazed.

Seconds pass as he stares at her, and then there’s a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Oh, Clara Oswald, I know you are.”

And for the first time since she’s arrived, for the first time since he’s changed, they share a smile.

And Clara swears there might be something there that wasn’t there before.

#

It is a warm summer night with a sky full of stars right outside the windows. There is music playing in the background and this magic, mad, impossible man is rambling on about Beethoven and something called a bootstrap paradox, and so he doesn’t even notice that Clara’s dragging him to the center of the ballroom until they're in the middle of the dance floor.

He pauses in the middle of his spiel, his hypothesis about time streams and melodies stopping mid-sentence as he blinks owlishly at his surroundings and then down at Clara.

“I don’t think I’m a dancing man,” he says, very decidedly.

“I don’t think you get a vote,” she says, pulling him closer.

It is not a waltz, and maybe it’s not even a dance. Because, no, he is not a dancing man, but he does temper his ramblings so they keep in the four-fourths time of the waltz, and he does sway a little from side to side, because Clara insists he try, and he can’t say no. He can’t ever say no to her.

(He almost asks her to travel with him then, she thinks, but he doesn’t. She won’t know why until later.)

#

Because he finally asks her civilly, Clara finally says yes to dinner.

It’s a mistake.

There are automatons, automatons made of clockwork and bone, of cogs and flesh, who hiss out “be our guest,” and trap her and him in their restaurant of death.

But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is when he manages to wrench himself free from his chains while she’s still bound, and with one foot out the door, he turns and tells her, “Sorry, they’re coming. No point in us both getting caught.”

And then he disappears, and she is alone, and all she can think of is:

Her prince wouldn’t have left her.

#

The automaton is made of copper and stolen skin and is staring down at Clara through eyes that don’t belong to it.

There are other automatons all around her, with their stolen, sawed-off parts, encircling her like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey and part of her mind is screaming, wondering if they’ll rip out her throat like wolves would too.

She tries to ignore that screaming, terrified part of her mind.

“Where is he,” the automaton ticks out, in a voice that’s both dead and alive. “Where is the prince?”

“I don’t know,” Clara gasps out, “I don’t know.”

“But you know him.”

Does she? she wonders, and the question echoes around in the cavern of her mind over and over again. Clara knows he is wonderful and terrible, both warrior and peacemaker, monster and sanctuary. She knows that, once upon a time, he cared about her very much. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, he still might even if he doesn’t show it.

(Clara can’t be sure though, every day she waits for him to extend the invitation to travel with him, and every day he doesn’t, and so every day she dies inside. He can’t truly be her prince, not if he never asks like he once said he wanted to, not if he doesn’t care to travel with her any longer.) “I don’t know if I still know the prince,” she says, “but if I do, then I know where he will be, where he will always be.”

Clara holds out her hand in the air, palm up, as if she can summon him to her side, as if, out of anywhere in the world he could be, out of every choice he has, he will always choose to be next to her. And maybe he will, she thinks, (oh, he always will, oh, if only she knew,) because the next thing she knows, she’s no longer alone. He’s there, by her side, taking her hand, and pulling her with him to safety.

#

The automatons of death are defeated, and now Clara is back in the castle with its shifting, magic walls, and this impossible man is leading her down one, to a set of doors she’s never seen before.

“Got a present for you,” he tells her, in that gruff growl of his, only this time, it sounds warmer, happier, less beastly. “To make up for the ruined dinner.”

Clara breathes out a laugh, raises an eyebrow, “And for the almost dying?”

He sniffs imperiously, bats his hand dismissively, as if death couldn’t compete with the undignified atrocity of ruined dinner plans. “That too, I suppose.”

He opens the double doors in front of him, and the sight inside nearly leaves Clara breathless. She is staring at a library that looks as if it goes on forever, with books as far as the eye can see. The shelves full of leather bound volumes start at the floor and go on til the ceiling, and Clara steps inside, mind spinning, breath catching, nearly crying because she’s seeing more books in one room in this one moment than she ever has in her entire lifetime.

”How did you know?” She asks, ripping her eyes away from the beauty of the books and back to him. She can’t recall ever talking to him about books since she’s come here, doesn’t think he’s ever caught her reading. “You chose this for me, but how on Earth did you know? That out of every room you could have shown me, that this is the one I’d like?”

He stares at her, and the expression on his face is lonely and lovely and longing and sad, like he’s looking at something he can’t have. “You told me already, explained how you loved books because they were like being able to hold a slice of the universe in your hands. You told me that, the day in the snow, remember?”

Clara blinks, and ever so slowly, the memory comes back to her: Him, with the brown hair and long limbs and different face, listening to her talk about both the books she’d already read and the ones she still wanted to read as the gently falling snow glittered in the streetlights and dusted the pavement.

“That was me you told all those things to,” he says now, and he laughs, and it sounds wistful and bitter and broken. “You can’t see me, can you? You look at me, but you can’t see me. I’m not in the past, Clara, I’m not dead, I’m here, standing in front of you. See me. Please just see me.”

She steps forward, studying at his face, searching for her answer, and it’s like whatever spell between them that has kept her from seeing him finally breaks, because suddenly she sees him, really sees him.

His hair is grey, his skin is lined, and he scowls more often than not. But his eyes are still the same. Not in color and not in shape, but, oh, how had she not seen it there before? He still looks at her like how he always looked at her: like she is the stars and the moon, the sky and the sea. Like she is everything in his world. He reaches for her less, sounds rougher and sometimes ruder than he ever has, but he still loves her, she realizes.

I loved you in my last life, his eyes tell her, I love you in this one, and whoever I am in my next life, I’ll love you in that one too.

Clara reaches out for him, all but collapses against him as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug, and it feels like coming home. This is her prince. He’s always been her prince.

His arms stiffen - he’s not a hugger, this new man - but she hears an almost inaudible exhale, like he had been holding his breath waiting for her verdict, and it sounds like a soft sigh of tired relief, as if he’s relieved to find sanctuary in a place he thought there might be none.

It’s him, her mind chants in time to the rhythm of his two heartbeats, it’s him, it’s him, it’s him. He hadn't changed completely, not in any way that truly counted.

And since it’s him...

“You once told me that there was an invitation you were going to offer me,” Clara whispers, face still pressed against the soft velvet of his coat. “Why didn’t you ever actually ask me?”

“I thought you’d say no.”

“I would never say no to you.”

(And she won’t, not to him.) “Well then, Clara Oswald,” he says, and she pulls back to peer up at him and ah ha, there it is: the smile she’d recognize anywhere, the magic one that’s made of madness and mayhem and glows like every star in the galaxy all at once. “How about adventure in the great wide somewhere?”

She grins back at him.

“Show me the stars,” she says.

(And he does.)

#

There is a prince, the villagers say, who is all things great and terrible. There is girl who is the same, and they rule together. The first time you see them, people say, you think the two of them couldn’t be more different, like they are light and darkness, fire and rain. But the second time you see them, you realize that they couldn’t be more alike, that they are both brilliant and mad and filled with stardust and wanderlust, and that they shine together like they’re two halves of the same star.

Beauty and the beast, some call them. Mad travelers. A fairy tale.

The tales always change, the gossip shifting as it passes from villager to villager,  but when it comes down to it, the facts are these:

In whatever form, in whatever way, in whatever end of history they’re on, and whatever alternate universe they’re in, they will find each other, her and him. It will always, always, always be them: Clara Oswald and the last prince of Gallifrey.

Some people are just meant to be in each other’s lives.

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages of Life: 23

Let Me Feel as Hurt as You Do

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC; Platonic Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…

Warnings: Language. Angst. Loss, Grief. Anxiety attack. Someone gets mad. A very slight implication of mentioned abortion, but not by word, by context. (This chapter focuses some on Steve and Ana)

Words: 14,639k words. Ha. Ha. I’m sorry.

A/N: Again, sorry for taking so long to update. From Jan-March 12th, I was completely booked soild at work. And then, this virus happened and I got laid off and oh look! A new chapter! I hope everyone is healthy and staying safe and staying inside. Here is a 14k+ chapter for you. (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first) 

Previously: Ana had a full on energy bursting breakdown. Steve ran after her, causing him to feel his own energy drain, and leaving small cuts and bruises on his arm, left by Ana. Time is told by weeks of pregnancy. 

A pounding pressure circles Ana’s entire head, as if her brain is trying to squeeze itself out through her skull. Her nose is clogged, her mouth slightly open to breathe, to taste the air that no longer smells like Bucky; the last thing she had been trying to hold onto. At least this way she can’t smell the scent of him fading away from the fabric of his shirt she’s wearing. Instead, the air faintly tastes like charred earth.

Her eyelids are heavy, swollen from the tears that have yet to stop. Ana sits silently, gaze transfixed through the floor to ceiling windowpanes where the glass had shattered, decorating the ground like crystals.

Wet tracks have stained patterns on her cheeks, tear after tear. Her mind is thankfully blank for the time being. Just focused on watching the glass reflect off the lights in the compound and the glow of the moon. Her vision begins morphing the reflections together like dark watercolors. An odd flutter in her stomach rolls through her, gently pulling her from the depths of her mind; the colors had begun to form a dusty orange landscape.

“Hey, think you feel up to drinking this for me?”

Blinking back to awareness, Ana watches as Carol wiggles a little jar in front of her. That same elixir she had made her drink on occasion; it truly helps her feel better physically. Carol hands her the vial, their fingers touching. The moment of contact stirs the energy within Ana, causing her body to tense up abruptly. It lasts for a moment, before the tension eases into something calmer than she’s ever felt. It’s different, welcoming, and Ana finds her hand covering the other woman’s to chase that odd serenity.

“What?” Ana breathes, confused.

Carol offers her a friendly smile. She leans a tad closer. “You and I, don’t think we’re that different, power wise.”

“I don’t understand?” She blinks a few times.

Ana is utterly exhausted after her outburst, yet she could still feel the light turmoil of her energy prickling just under her skin. Now, her energy is finally beginning to settle, feels similar like the rings Shuri gave her.

“I’m stabilizing your energy levels,” Carol explains smoothly.

“You-you can do that?”

“Didn’t know until right now, figured I’d try it.”

“You’re so powerful,” Ana whispers, inhaling slowly as her body finally relaxes. “Much higher than my level of- this.” She vaguely gestures to her own body with her free hand. She allows herself a few more moments of Carol’s touch before taking the bottle from her.

“Then it’s something we can chat about later, once you’re feeling better,” She promises. Then she smirks. “And when you don’t look like you got swallowed whole then spit back out by a Flerken.”

“What’s a- never mind,” Ana sighs tiredly, opening the jar.

“Slow sips, alright? Rest for a few days. I have more if needed.”

She nods in silent gratitude. Carol pats her shoulder twice, though Ana doesn’t feel the same comforting flow she did just a minute ago. She also doesn’t miss Carol’s head jerk to Natasha as she walks away. Natasha follows her, and if Ana wasn’t as drained as she is, she may had been more curious.

When she finishes the elixir, Rhodes and Steve help her stand and make her way to her room. She briefly notices small spots of blood on Steve’s sleeve. She frowns, but Rhodey asking if he can make a call to Pepper, and would it be okay with her, distracts her. Ana nods, struck aware that she hasn’t spoken to her cousin in two months.

Another realization overcomes her as the men assist her down the hallway. Ana had been unintentionally horrible the past three months to everyone around her. She didn’t just shut off her emotions, she shut out her friends.

*

Just twenty minutes after she’s in bed, a light tapping sounds at the door as Ana slightly readjusts her sitting position. Apparently being reacquainted with her emotions also comes with new pains and aches; her lower back for one. Ana finally gets her pillows in the right position, nearly forgetting someone is at the door.

It cracks open, Natasha peaking her head in. “Is it alright for me to enter?”

She sounds so formal. Ana can’t blame her. “Uh, y-yeah,” She clears her raw throat. “Yes.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth cracks with a sad smirk before her face goes back to unreadable. She gently shuts the door behind her, moving toward the bed, Ana shifting her legs over to give her a space to sit. Which she does.

Ana bites her lip hard, nervous about Natasha’s pending anger. Worried Nat will give her a verbal lashing, even though she knows she deserves it. Her skin prickles with the apprehensive energy in the room. She inhales shakily, counts to five in her head before exhaling, rubbing her hands over the bottom curve of her growing stomach.

When Natasha finally speaks, her voice is unreadable. “Ana.”

Ana nearly flinches hearing her name. She makes the briefest of eye contact with the former spy. A single tear escapes Ana’s left eye, despite her efforts to keep them at bay. Natasha slowly reaches out to- what? Would she actually slap a pregnant woman? Flick her off? Make another rude hand gesture? Ana breaks their stare, ashamed- and isn’t that quite amazing to feel that now. Shame for how she’d been for the past three months.

Instead of a sharp stinging slap, or a bruising pinch, the gentle hand laid on her shoulder genuinely shocks her. Ana shoots her gaze up again, another tear overflowing. There’s a softness in Natasha’s eyes that she hasn’t see in so very long, her green eyes glassy. Her fingers apply pressure to Ana’s shoulder a moment before her shoulder is pulled forward a little. The motion makes her chin tremble, biting her lip still, nearly hard enough to draw blood.

Natasha exhales sadly, a little huff of air before she fully pushes Ana closer. Suddenly, she has Ana’s face pressed to her neck, and her other arm is hugging her tightly around her back. A hug. Nat is giving her a hug, one she doesn’t deserve in the least. A comforting, supporting hug. Something Ana hasn’t felt in months.

Tears flow freely down her face once again. Natasha holds her as best as she can, her fingers digging into her skin.

“I…I,” Ana stutters between hiccuping gasps. “Nat-“

“I know, I know,” Natasha replies softly. “Shhhh, I know, Ana. Apology accepted. Just let it out now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ana wraps her arms around her as much as she can manage, fingers pressing into the solid form of comfort. She nearly cries herself to sleep that way. Barely conscious enough to realize Natasha moves her back and covers her with a blanket before she succumbs to sleep.

For once, Ana has a dreamless slumber.

*

Steve rubs his thumb over the already scabbed over crescent marks on his forearm, noticing the faint bruising around them too.

“Glass get ya’?”

Rocket’s voice grabs his attention, going back to sweeping his pile of shattered glass into the dustpan.

“No, just-“ But Steve stops because he doesn’t have an excuse. Not to mention he’s sure everyone witnessed everything.

“She always been strong enough to draw blood from a super soldier?” Rocket continues casually, finishing his pile before jumping up on the arm of the couch. Eye level with Steve’s arm now.

A brief memory flashes through Steve’s mind of Ana accidentally clipping Bucky in a sparring match outside their hut. It led to a busted lip, Ana apologizing profusely while straddling Bucky and him looking up at her with proud adoring eyes as if she hung the moon.

He mentally shakes the memory away. She always had a hidden strength about her, but never enough to physically bruise them with just a grip of her fingers.

“No, this would be new.”

“Has no one noticed her growing strength these past weeks?” Nebula muses lowly, studying a small device in her hands. She fiddles with it, then points it at the first pile large of broken glass. “The minuscule signs of her powers becoming unsteady?”

She presses a button, a short burst of purple light shoots from the device. Suddenly the pile is gone, nothing but a wisp of smoke before it fades. Steve in utter shock, is impressed with the tool, and vaguely thinks if they had that a while back it would have saved them a lot of clean up time in previous home attacks.

“Uh-“ Steve begins.

“Oh, let me do the rest!” Rocket demands, hopping off the couch and grabbing the device as Nebula holds it out.

“The light charred marks on tables,” She continues, her dark eyes locking on Steve’s. “The-

“Dent marks? Yeah,” He says, leaning against the back of the couch. Rocket cackles as three more piles disappear. Steve continues. “Didn’t catch the first signs though.”

“Ana is…fascinatingly powerful. More than any of you realize.”

Crossing his arms tightly, Steve frowns in perplexed curiosity. What has this woman from another planet seen in Ana that no one else had noticed. That he himself hadn’t paid attention to. “Care to elaborate?”

“The sheer amount of energy she released,” Nebula pauses, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Was extremely similar to that of-“

“Captain Rogers, you have an incoming call from Mrs. Stark.”

FRIDAY’s interruption could have come at different time than this. Steve drops his arms as he pushes himself off the couch.

“We’ll talk about that later,” He tells Nebula, heading toward the conference room.

She nods, then snatches the device from Rocket just as he was about to test it on a lounge chair. Steve ponders her words over in his head, some pieces coming together from the past month. He did noticed the perfectly scorched hand print on the bedside table in Ana’s room tonight. However, speaking to Pepper takes precedence at the moment.

*

Five days pass before Ana remembers the details of her breakdown. Five days before she connects the spots of blood on Steve’s arm was her doing; granted, she had slept soundlessly for most of those days. Her body seeming to finally catch up on a decent amount of sleep and beginning to heal from her emotional stunted issues. As in, she’s been overly emotionally now, like her hormones are speeding up to make up the past three months.

It was recommended by Pepper, after Ana had a long overdue conversation with her, that she should watch cute animal videos, or light comedic movies to lift her spirits a little. It worked for one day before she came across a fluffy kitten video and started crying at how cute the little kitty was.

Now, Ana gingerly gets up to use the bathroom, her bladder clearly smaller and being constantly pressed on. Instead of getting back in bed however, she leaves her room in search for Steve herself. That, and she suddenly has a craving for mango pizza again.

“What the hell are you doing walking around?” Rocket greets her as she rounds the corner to the kitchen.

“I’m hungry,” She replies with a pout, slowly moving to the freezer. “Have you seen Steve?”

“There’s plenty of people here to bring you food, take advantage of that, Barnes.”

Ana halts for a moment hearing her last name, the little “space raccoon” as Rhodes likes to call him, only knows her as Ana Barnes. She inhales slowly, then pulls open the door.

“And would you have brought me food on a tray?” She shoots over her shoulder, voice teasing. She nearly forgot how it feels to tease someone.

“What do I look like, a servant? I meant use the others.” He replies flippantly.

For the first time in a long time, Ana cracks a smile. A small chuckle even escaping past her lips. She turns to glance at him, and swears she sees a little smirk from him too.

“Ana? What the in hell are you walking around for?”

Ahh, there he is. She closes the door, but keeps her hand on the handle for support. “Looking for you, and hungry.”

Steve fixes her with his disapproving looking before he suddenly looks surprised. “You’re hungry?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “Go lay back down and I’ll make you something.”

“No, this is specific-“

“Could’ve just asked FRIDAY to call someone.”

“I disabled FRIDAY from my room, remember?” She reminds him awkwardly as Steve begins to usher her back. “Two months ago.”

“Right. What’s this specific food you want?”

“Mango piz- wait.” Ana stops, wincing at her abrupt movement. She looks over her shoulder again after she takes a steady breath. “Rocket, is that my glock? And my knife set?”

Rocket had gone back to doing his task before she had entered, popping his head up to acknowledge her.

“Oh, yeah,” He answers lightly. “Stole them from that shooting range here. You ain’t using them right, full belly and all? No? Good. Couldn’t find your metaled arm husband’s gun, figured I’d clean these instead. In case you decide to have another cool outburst- I mean, breakdown, they’ll be of use.”

Ana just stares as Steve covers his laugh with a cough.

“That okay?”

There’s no snark coming from him, just a teasing glint in his dark eyes. She can’t pinpoint why, but Rocket cleaning her long forgotten weapons and clearly knowing they were hers, touches Ana more than she thought it would. She recalls him handing her Bucky’s gun after the incident; which is now carefully put away in the closet.

“The smaller knife on the right is spring loaded,” She informs him with a small smile. “Used to be inside the boots I wore. It’s a good knife. Take care of them all.”

Rocket grabs the knife, finds the switch and springs it open. He salutes with it as Ana follows Steve back to her room.

An hour later has Steve serving freshly made pizza with chopped up mango pieces on top. Ana already feels bad the second he came in. He takes one look at her grimacing face and groans, setting the pie down on the bedside tray.

“You’re no longer craving this, are you?” He guesses, dropping the paper plates as well.

She shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Hungry for anything else?”

“Did I hurt you, that night?” Ana abruptly questions. It’s the whole reason she wanted to find him in the first place. Not for food.

“What are you talking about?” Steve frowns, hands on his hips.

“Nat’s always been right. You’re a terrible liar, Rogers.”

He sighs, sitting down on her bed next to her legs. “Ana, you weren’t aware of draining my energy.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” She replies, then grabs his left arm.

Ana pushes the flannel sleeve up to his elbow, pulling him closer to see better. Five very faint crescent shapes on his arm are barely visibly in the light but they’re there. Four in a row and the fifth just a few centimeters to the left. Ana traces the shapes with her finger, his skin smooth from any scabbing.

“I saw blood on your sleeve that night,” She informs him, raising his arm to her eyes for a better look. She turns his arm side to side, no resistance from him. “Thought maybe it was the glass. It wasn’t.”

There. Ana keeps his arm at a slight angle, and the smallest discoloration of yellow stands out against his usual peachy skin tone. “I held onto your arm.”

“Yeah,” Steve confirms calmly. “Dug your nails in. Had a pretty strong grip there.”

A thought runs through her mind, causing Ana to drop his arm. She very suddenly does not want Steve to put any of his own thoughts together. Calling herself out on the cuts was a bad idea, and anxiety shoots through her chest. She doesn’t want anyone to know or to possibly connect her oddly growing strength. Ana herself has been aware it for weeks.

“Sorry I hurt you,” She rushes out. “Sorry,” Ana repeats kinder. “For everything.”

Steve looks like he wants to continue the subject, then thinks better of it. “Don’t worry about apologies right now, okay? Just take it easy for the next week, try not to stress yourself out, Ana. Once you’re feeling better and off bed rest, we can revisit it.”

“Okay, yeah. Sounds good,” She agrees, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. Though she can’t help feeling like her and Steve are treading on thin ice.

She shifts around, adjusting the pillows. Steve helps her, mainly making sure she doesn’t accidentally fall off the side. Ana feels exhausted again, her lower back aching as she finally finds a position comfortable enough.

“Apparently turning your emotions back on makes you realize you’re actually pregnant.” Ana huffs, half on her side.

“’Bout damn time,” Steve snips instantly. Ana quirks an eyebrow. “I mean! I didn’t mean for that to sound rude. I just meant, sometimes it felt like you didn’t…care.”

“Steve,” Ana begins solemnly after a short pause. She looks him straight in the eye, stressing her next words. “Natasha said the same thing to me. If I did not want or care for this baby. I would not be pregnant anymore.”

It’s silent between them as her words sink in. She can see in his eyes when he comprehends her meaning. Steve drops his head for a moment, before he meets her gaze again. He takes her hands in his, squeezing.

“And we would have supported you with whatever decision you made,” Steve tells her just as serious. “We still do. Support you. That’s all any of us wanted to do. We’re…we’re your family now. We’re here for you and little Barnes in there.”

Ana scoffs to cover the tightness in her throat. “You’ve always been my family, Steve. Well, at least for the past seven years.” That earns her a chuckle. “Thank you.”

“You look tired, get some rest.” He releases her hands and begins to stand.

“Actually, I kinda want the pizza now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t hide how happy her eating seems to make him.

*

Ana cautiously makes her way to the bathroom, pressing her hands to her lower back as she walks. She turns on the sink, cupping her hands under the faucet and presses the cold water to her clammy face. Sighing in relief, she repeats the notion until her face feels clean of sweat. Body aches and mild hot flashes bringing the clammy skin, her ankles beginning to swell just a little. It’s almost as if her body is reminding her of the growing human inside her uterus with a vengeance. Payback for now finally feeling everything from her lack of feeling nothing for weeks.

However, she does take comfort in the facts that the baby is healthy and her most of her vitals are back to normal. Ana reaches for a washcloth on the counter, patting her face dry. She catches her gaze in the mirror once she’s finished, and stares.

Dull dark eyes peer back at her, the golden dots just matte specks. Grayish-purple circles are prominent against unusually pale skin tone. Highlights the fine lines of her lower eyelids, lines of exhaustion, stress, loss. Her face has thinned, looks sullen from lack of smiles, of laughter. The white of her eyes bloodshot, either from tears after so long of not shedding them or just lack of sleep.

Ana’s reflection startles her. This is the first time she has truly taken in her appearance in months. Too afraid to see the failure in her eyes of not saving Bucky in time. Of not stopping Thanos. Of the loss of life in her own eyes. She takes a step back, seeing herself entirely.

Smoothing her damp hands over her stomach, she grabs the hem of her- Bucky’s- shirt, lifting the material just under her breast. Which, have also grown bigger in the past three months. It’s not as if she hasn’t noticed her body growing, or seen her belly before, considering she has a top view of it every day, but this. This feels different.

Her skin has obviously accommodated the growing baby, proof of stretch marks on either side of her belly button that now pokes out. The old bullet wounds on her abdomen have stretched out as well, and the last few letters of her rib tattoo just barely affected. Ana traces her fingers over the new marks, then sees the slight movement of her belly in the mirror. A slow smile spreads across her lips, because this is different, and her mind drifts into another memory.

Ana shivers, legs tangled with strong muscular ones on the bed. Clothes long since scattered along the floor, a shirt on the lamp, bra on the mirror.

“Can’t wait to see your belly grow,” Bucky murmurs thickly. Nose grazing around her navel for the umpteenth time.

“Bucky,” Ana whines, breath ragged and pleading.

“Gonna look radiant, love.” He continues to praise, lips burning a trail of flames to her hip. “So fucking beautiful. My girl, my amazing wife.”

He stops his kissing, turning his head to lay his ear and cheek over the lower part of her stomach. His breath hitches as he listens, as her fingers sink into his long thick hair scratching his scalp.

“It’s the most beautiful sound in the world,” Bucky exhales, voice strained with emotion. “That little heartbeat. God, I can’t wait to feel this little jellybean move in there.”

Ana, despite wanting her husband to have his focus between her legs, laughs. “That’s what you can’t wait for?”

Bucky kisses her bellybutton, then her scars. “And many more, but, yes. My ma told me-“ He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s shocked he reminds the memory. “Whenever my sisters moved around, they were waving at me. Like they couldn’t wait to meet me.”

“Bucky, sweetheart,” Ana’s voice is a gentle sigh, fond and full of adoration. “This baby definitely can’t wait to meet you either.”

He hums. “I used to sing to them, when my Ma was pregnant. Said they could hear me. So, I talked to them every day. Like I’m going to talk and sing to our little one every day.”

Overwhelmed with how much she just fucking loves Bucky, Ana tugs him up to her, cupping his cheeks and giving him a deeply passionate kiss. His fingers tracing her stomach, over and over, until he finally lowers them.

A dull jab to the left side of her stomach pulls her back to her reflection. She chuckles wetly, tears escape as she blinks. Because this. This is her finally coming to terms.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little bean,” She whispers. She moves her hand to the same spot, feeling their baby moving around.

This. This is Ana finally connecting.

 25 weeks:

Another dream. The same dream. Over and over and over. Each time, ashes slip between her fingers the moment she touches Bucky. Each time he gives her that sad smile. Each time he speaks her name so tenderly. Each time, no matter what she does to try to save him, dust ingrains the lines of her palms, settles heavily in her lungs.

Each time she wakes with tears, panting and struggling to breathe. The only difference now is the ache in her chest, the stabbing pain through her heart, a haunting in her mind, and the shredded frays of her soul. The only thing that comforts her now, is the sound of Bucky’s voice recorded on the kimoyo beads.

Like clockwork every night, Ana hears Steve’s soft footsteps, a defeated sigh. On the eighth night, this changes. Steve finally knocks, cracking the open door she no longer keeps locked. Ana waits with her head in her hands for him to come in and sit on the edge of her bed.

She takes a few calming breaths before speaking. “What made you finally come in?” She inquires, face still hidden in her palms.

“How did you know I was there?” Steve asks bemused. He doesn’t wait for her answer. Instead he says, “Figured it was about time. Your nightmares. It’s what led to your...breakdown.”

Ana remains silent. He’s not wrong.

“I have nightmares too. So does Nat, Rhodey, all of us. Not sure about Nebula though, she’s more stoic than you were.”

She chuckles slightly at that, but still doesn’t look at him. She can feel his nervous energy radiating off him though, and it’s overwhelming to feel her ability again. There’s still an odd sort of tension between Ana and Steve. Makes her skin tingle and nerves jumpy, she almost wishes Carol were here instead.

“You don’t have to talk about them. You don’t have to talk to me about anything.” Steve continues, his voice morphs into a desperate hint of a plea. “Just, please don’t shut me out again, Ana.”

Frowning at her hands, she remains still, allowing him to talk.

“I mean,” He says quietly. “You shut everyone out, but it was worse with Natasha and I. Especially me. You never looked at me. You still can hardly look at me. I think I know why, and…I am so fucking sorry.”

Finally, Ana picks her head up, shocked and confused. But Steve’s eyes are staring off to the side, his hands twisting his fingers around. She follows his line of sight, to the picture of her and Bucky on their wedding day. When she looks at him again, his jaw clenches as he swallows.

Abruptly he stands up, but Ana reaches for his arm, grabbing his wrist. She sees him wince and realizes her grip is too tight. She quickly releases him as he stares wide eyed at her. She opens her mouth to ask why he apologized. Maybe ask why he’s suddenly leaving after he’d been pacing back and forth listening to her nightmares for weeks.

But a strange sensation shoots through her lower stomach and she gasps, hands immediately going to the spot. “Oh, fuck,” Ana whimpers with a wince. “Baby didn’t like that move.”

“Are you okay!? Do I need to call Dr. Hammond?” Steve asks frantically.

“No, no, I’m fine,” She reassures him, the pain fading. “Just moved too fast is all.”

Steve hums like he doesn’t quite believe her as he shakes his wrist out. “You look abnormally pale, lost your tanner complexion.”

Ana shrugs, not mentioning the lack of sun and definitely emotional stress is part of it. Instead, she attempts to reach for the nightstand drawer. Steve beats her too it, pulling out one of the vials of the elixir. He pops open the top, handing it to her. She nods her thanks.

“FRIDAY,” Steve addresses the AI that was reinstalled days ago. “What’s the read on Ana’s vitals?”

“Body temperature is normal, heart rate slightly elevated at 150 bpm. Fetal heart rate is normal range at 153 bpm. Mrs. Barnes blood pressure remains low at 90/60, however there are no other signs of distress at this time.”

“Thank you,” He says, seeming to relax just slightly.

“Mrs. Barnes, you haven’t taken your medication tonight, and your water intake has been minimal today. I can print out some prenatal yoga exercises and breathing techniques for you. I’ve noticed your sleeping pattern hasn’t improved enough to be considered healthy. Your appetite has improved quite a bit though.”

“This is why I disabled you in the first place,” Ana grumbles as Steve’s gaze narrows at her.

“I was truly impressed you bypassed my firewall, I was also hurt by your action-“ FRIDAY responds. Ana makes an indigent noise and swears FRIDAY sounds snippy. “-As I do care for your wellbeing. As does Mr. Stark.”

“Okay, that’s enough, thank you!” She snaps. The AI goes silent. Ana ignores the thick lump forming in her throat at the mention of Tony.

“Drink your water and take your medication.” Steve’s tone leaves no room for agreement as he gives her both her cup of water and the bottle of meds.

She does as she’s told, swallowing the pill and taking slow sips of water. She can feel her body relax and the baby roll around until it decides the position it’s is good enough.

“I don’t mean to continue to shut you out,” Ana confesses suddenly, eyes meeting Steve’s who was about to leave. “I’m still just trying to process feeling again. It’s overwhelming and I’m trying to stay as calm and relaxed as possible. The whole reason I did it in the first place, Steve, to was protect my child from any negative affects through me. You may not believe me, but everything I did, everything I’m trying to do is to protect my baby and keep it healthy.”

Sighing heavily, she puts her cup and bottle down, leaning back against her pillows. “Haven’t done a great job though.” She adds as an afterthought.

“I believe you,” Steve says, staying by the door. A shadow flickers in his blue eyes, and the energy around him changes darkly before it’s gone. “I just…sometimes it just feels like-“

Ana frowns because he just stops talking, shaking his head. Something is bothering him, and she swears it’s more than just shutting him out. He’s anxious about it. “Feels like what?”

“Nothing,” He gives her a nearly convincing smile. “It’s late, you should try going back to sleep.” Steve exists after that, closing the door but stopping the last few inches. “Ana, I’m here. If you need me. For anything.”

“I know,” She whispers as he shuts the door.

Ana covers her face again with her hands, inhaling slowly. She can still smell the faint ashes from her dreams, can still feel a phantom touch and realizes with a start, that she is not the only one to lose Bucky.

**

Finally, Ana is off bed rest, Dr. Hammond visiting once more for a check up and seemingly much happier with her health. She mentions the pains could possibly be Braxton Hicks contractions, a sign of her body beginning to prepare for birth. There’s only three months left and it’s this information of her body preparing to welcome a tiny human into the world, that Ana is appalled at herself. For a few reasons.

The first is Ana herself is not prepared whatsoever for a baby to arrive in three months. The second is knowing she hasn’t spoken to Pepper hardly at all, and rushes up to Rhodey. She all but interrogates him, asking if Pepper is angry. Demanding to know if Pepper is alright. Inquiring if the family is okay, and quickly questioning about Tony.

“Glad to see your rambling is back,” Rhodes quips, a smirk teasing his mouth.

He has been sitting in one of the conference rooms, apparently talking to whichever US Government leaders were left. Ana had come to find out that Thaddeus Ross was one of the many to disappear in “The Snap” as Rocket now refers bitterly to it. Ana however, doesn’t know how she quite feels about that bit of information. A bitter satisfaction does curl in her chest though.

“You sound a little like yourself again,” He continues, shutting off the holograms.

A deep ache throbs in Ana’s heart, and she doesn’t have the nerve to tell him that she cries almost every night now. That she spends more time watching and listening to a recording of her husband than talking to anyone else. Ana’s heartbreak remains the same as it was three months ago.

“I’ll be your go between just a little longer,” Rhodey says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But you both need to speak to each other on your own. He still doesn’t know.”

“Oh.” Ana startles, feeling oddly hurt that Tony doesn’t know she’s pregnant. “Um…do you know why?”

He shrugs, standing up and adjusting the orthotic around his waist. “Pep thinks it should come from you personally.”

The third reason is the fact that while she shut her emotions off, Ana also deliberately shut off any help. She knows Natasha was hurt by it, knows she was pissed to hell, but her and Ana had a long two hours talk about everything. More apologizes from Ana included.

Ana decides it’s time to let people back in, because, as she swallows some bit of pride, she cannot do this alone. She finally calls Pepper, crying on the phone to her cousin because, fuck does she miss her husband, and this is the first time she’s truly allowing herself to feel every ounce of her pain and heartbreak and emotions. After a good hour of that, she goes back to her first reason; being appalled and angry at herself.

“I don’t have anything, Pepper!” Ana whines into the phone. “I’m not prepared. I don’t have a crib, I don’t have clothes, diapers! Wipes!? I don’t even have a damn blanket or pacifier! Oh my god, what if the baby gets sick and I don’t have that little nose sucker thing or a thermometer!? No little socks! This baby’s poor feet are going to freeze because it’s horrible, emotionless fuck of a mother couldn’t-“

“Whoa, hey! That’s enough, Ana!” Pepper scolds. “Take a breath, bug. You can’t work yourself up again like that. It’s going be okay.”

Pepper’s promise holds up. Within a day of their conversation, Pepper stops by with bags and boxes of baby supplies. Some are hand-me-downs, most everything else is new. Boxes of diapers, wipes, bibs, neutral blankets and little onesie’s. Pacifiers, nail clippers, a soft brush, a bathtub, socks, and beanies.

“Who’s Morgan?” Steve questions as he helps carrying in the last box. That he sets down in the living full of people, Morgan’s Baby Stuff written on the top.

Ana freezes with the veggie fruit smoothie Natasha made her, pressed to her lips. Her eyes shoot over to Pepper. Her cousin looks guilty for all of three seconds, before she sighs and shrugs.

“My two-year-old daughter,” She informs, likes it’s the most casual thing to drop that two-year secret. “Tony- both of us, decided to keep it a secret after your falling out.”

The shock of Tony Stark having a daughter ripples through the room.

“You all went your separate ways, most of you off the grid in hiding.” Pepper explains, hands on her hips. “If anyone is angry, then get over it. It was our decision to keep our privacy and family safe from public knowledge.”

“Oh, um, congratulations?” Steve offers awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ana snorts against her cup, nearly splashing her face with liquid veggies. Pepper mutters her gratitude, and that’s that. They continue to carry the gifts further into the room.

“I already knew,” Natasha confesses quietly to Ana, tilting her glass up to make sure she drinks. Of course she did. The infamous spy she is.

Ana glares at her as she takes over dramatic gulps as Nat, who’s hair is slowly turning red at the roots, rolls her eyes.

 It takes a few hours for Pepper to coax Ana to leave the compound and go to a store. Ana makes it halfway down the driveway to the car and stops. Her hearing has grown sensitive, and she knows why, however, she doesn’t hear much of anything.

The birds that used to sing in the trees and woods are silent. There’s zero scurrying feet over the dry leaves on the ground, and the feel of the air around her is…heavy. Broken and hurt. And here she is, about to shop for her child, for her and Bucky’s child.

Without him. Broken and hurt.

“I can’t do this,” She mutters, turning back to go inside.

Pepper doesn’t force her or convince her again. Instead, they pick and order a crib, highchair and anything else she needs.

As Ana rests, watching in a daze as Pepper folds little towels, she places one pile next to Ana. Shifting her eyes, she sees a onesie that says “Little Bean” with three coffee beans decorating the front. Pepper lays matching socks on top, oblivious to Ana’s reaction. She reaches for the tiny socks, the cloth soft in her hand.

“Annie Doll, come look!” Bucky shouts excitedly from the front door. “Ana!”

They had just gotten back from the hut, and she wants to shower the smells of hay and warm weather off. Ana sighs fondly, doubling back from the bathroom. She stops in the living room when she sees a gleeful Bucky holding up a package of six socks. Six, tiny baby socks.

“What in the world?” Ana laughs in bemusement. “Where did you get those? Oh, they’re so cute!”

“Shuri! Well, no-“ Bucky corrects himself as he comes closer. “She helped me navigate one of those baby store websites and I saw these so I ordered them!”

“Bucky, you know I’m only six weeks in right, babe? We have so much time to buy all the socks!” Though as she says it, her heart swells with warmth and love over Bucky’s excitement.

“Yeah…but look!” He nearly shoves the small things in her face. “Baby goats! They had goats on them and I just- what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ana can’t control her face, or her suddenly wet eyes. She just grabs her husband by the nape of his neck and kisses him firmly. She drags him to the couch, because she won’t make it back to their bedroom.

Remembering that day, Ana gets up too fast, pausing as a wave of dizziness hits her. She waits until it passes, then begins to frantically pull open drawers, searches through her closet, through boxes. She finds nothing as she throws clothes and drops objects to the floor.

“What are you looking for?” Pepper questions cautiously.

“I-I can’t find them.” Ana says with a shaky voice. “I need to find them. I have to find them.”

“Ana-“

“He bought them,” She mumbles, ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks as she rechecks the top drawer. “He bought them. He was so excited, and I can’t find them. I-I need them for Bucky. He bought them for the baby.”

A hand on her shoulder makes her turn and burry her face into Pepper’s chest. “I can’t find them!”

The socks Bucky bought aren’t in her room, which means. The six little pair of goat socks are somewhere in their home in Wakanda. It’s such a small thing, but it breaks Ana all over again. Feeling like her body is being ripped in two once more.

Reminds her that the black hole in her chest will never be whole again.

 27 Weeks:

Nothing gets easier. Ana almost shuts her emotions off again, a few times, until she ends up have a conversation with Nebula one night. It starts off with a game she said her, and Stark played while they were drifting off in space. She takes out a thick triangle, Ana immediately recognizing the little paper football.

Ana smiles sadly at the triangle, remembered when Tony played the same game with her as she recovered in the hospital after her brother had attacked her. The game moves on from light comments, to Ana teaching her simple card games. From there, is transpires deeper. Nebula brings up her suspicions of Ana’s nightmares and growing powers. Unknown as to why she does, Ana opens up to her.

“I thought it was because I was stress free in Wakanda. I was the happiest I’ve ever been.” She recalls somberly. “I was with the person I loved more than anything in my life I had Bucky.” Ana wipes the tears that escape her eyes. She takes a moment to gather herself as Nebula waits patiently.

“I had, have these rings that help regulate my energy. I haven’t been wearing them lately though, maybe that’s why? Or the growth of my hormones with the baby? Or-“

Her right hand slips slightly, her fingers grazing over the stone embedded in the last knuckle of the glove. She yelps, either from pain or the new surge of power coursing through her.

Ana blinks, the memory flashing through her mind. Reminding her.

I touched an Infinity Stone, doesn’t seem to be something Ana should confess just yet. However, Nebula was born on a different planet, and the daughter of that horrible titan. She may possibly know more about the stones than anyone else.

The first time Ana had been in close proximity to Nebula, she felt energy and emotions just as chaotic, and dark as Bucky’s had been; if not a little more. It had to be Nebula’s own moment of vulnerability, suffering so deeply from pain and lose and rage. Since then, she had been stoic enough for Ana to sit close to her, just to feel energy that wasn’t openly heavy. Maybe it’s why Ana decides to tell her.

“Nebula,” Ana begins quietly, urgently, hoping no one is overhearing. “If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it a secret? I’m trusting you here.”

Nebula isn’t one to express her thoughts or emotions, or anything for that matter on her face, but this clearly shocks her. Her dark eyes are wide as she sits back. Nodding once she leans back in, closer to listen to Ana.

“I, I think I touched one of the Infinity Stones,” She mutters, nervously rubbing her hands over her stomach. “I’m sure of it.”

A beat passes. “No Terran can touch a stone without damage. Or death,” Nebula states ominously. “It is not possible.” Though as she says it, her words drift off in thought.

“Don’t you know all about the stones? Does Rocket?” Ana can’t help but inquire.

She shakes her head, eyes looking oddly disappointed. “I only know one of their main functions. Some were simple, straightforward, like the Power Stone. Others were more complicated. My father was never one to spill the secrets of each stone he found.”

“Maybe that’s the one I touched? The Power Stone?” Ana foolishly asks with hope.

“Do you recall the color?”

“No,” She huffs, defeated. Abruptly she doubts herself. “I’m not even sure if it really happened anymore.”

Ana doesn’t elaborate, feeling rather silly for even mentioning it. Maybe she dreamt it. Maybe she was hit so hard it knocked her brain around a little. Maybe she was so emotionally distraught that she just fabricated it. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

“You have dreams?” Nebula questions, bringing Ana back.

“I have nightmares,” She corrects. “Always the same, like a strange world.”

“Your physical strength has grown since touching the stone.”

“Yeah,” Ana drawls out, wincing. “That’s…that’s not part of it, I think. Wait. You’ve noticed that? My-my strength?”

“I have. You could be a lethal warrior if you wanted.”

Internal panic tightens her chest. She hoped no one was going to notice; leaving bruises on Steve was one thing, possibly passable and could be forgotten. Even her newly sensitive hearing. But the cracks in objects that aren’t easily crackable? The broken hinge of the door to the roof when Ana pulled to hard? Those aren’t as easy to explain or hide.

“Is that another secret, Barnes? How powerful you have become?”

“Please,” She sags, abruptly feeling tired. “It’s not something I want to talk about yet.”

They don’t speak for a few minutes. Then Nebula makes a tiny smacking noise against the table. “I win.”

Ana looks down at the game of war they paused to talk. Nebula’s duel card is an Ace. Ana flips her over. It’s a Queen.

“I enjoyed that,” Nebula states coolly, gathering the cards messily. “I am going to beat Rhodes now.”

Ana is left laughing softly in the living room. Her panic slowly dying down.

28 weeks:

Entering her seventh month of carrying a human being inside her has really taken affect on Ana. Her hair has gotten much longer, thicker than it was. It’s probably the only thing Ana likes. The heartburn, light sciatic pain, and lower back pain and peeing every five minutes she could all do without. Thankfully, Ana’s vitals and the baby’s have been good enough for Dr. Hammond, who once again stresses the support group for expecting widowed mothers.

Finally relenting, Ana agrees, but with a blush on her face asks Natasha to go with her. The drive isn’t too far, and it’s the first time she has left the compound since Wakanda. There’s a significantly less amount of cars on the road, barely any traffic for a Friday at 5:30pm. The lack of birds and planes flying through the sky. The absence of bikers and runners.

Clenching her hands into fits, Ana rolls her shoulders back, taking a deep breath. Her skin prickles with new energy, new emotions, especially when Natasha stops at a red light. Ana meets the eyes of the person sitting next to them; a middle aged man with vacant eyes. The light turns green and as he drives away, there’s a sticker family on the back of his car; a wife and five kids.

The radio turns to static, then shuts off. Biting her lips, Ana tries not to think of every single person who lost their families, friends, children, the love of their lives. The confusion, the horror, the guilt people must have felt, still feel. Ana’s breathing begins to rapidly pick up, and that same clenching pressure makes itself known in her lower stomach.

“Nat,” She grits out, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself.

“Are you going into labor in my car?” Natasha deadpans, a hint of humor behind the flat of her voice.

“No,” Ana huffs a strained chuckle. “But I can’t do this. I thought I could. But my energy…”

“Figured with the radio, just don’t shut car down either. I’m turning around right now, don’t worry. Just count your breathing. Slow inhales and exhales. Touch around you if you need too. You’re alright Ana”

How ironic, Ana thinks vaguely as she follows those instructions, for someone titled an Empathetic Healer to have her own anxiety attacks. To have someone who used to come to her, be the one coaching Ana.

Fuck, she misses Bucky with every aching molecule.

Bucky was so good, so attuned to her, that he was always able to calm her down instantly. All he had to do was gently brush his metal fingers against her hand, or cheek. All he had to do was give her a tight squeeze with his right hand, or press his forehead to hers and silently breath with her until Ana had followed his calming pattern. Or press her hand to his chest like she had done since the beginning. Coo gentle, loving words to her. Even now, she hears that phantom call of her voice.

“Have you picked a name yet?” Nat’s gentle voice provides a slight distraction.

She takes her time to answer. “Not-not really. We considered a few, but it was still too early.”

She hums. “I assume Bucky was excited?”

Remembering how Bucky ran out of the room and spun her after the positive result, Ana smiles to herself. The undeniable glee that lit up his entire beautiful face, his eyes the bluest she had ever seen then, shinning with tears. The kisses her placed on every inch of her body that night, taking his time to set every one of her nerves on fire. Brought her to the highest of highs, just to bring her crashing down into him, safe, happy and loved.

Ana isn’t aware she’s silently crying until the tears drip off her jaw and land on her stomach. Soaks into the fibers of another one of Bucky’s shirt, because when she wears them, it’s like carrying him with her wherever she goes. Ana wipes her tears with trembling fingers.

“Yes,” She answers belatedly. Despite the shuddering breath she takes, she feels like she can breathe better. “Ecstatic.”

“Did you know that little shit Rocket, stole my egg rolls and ate all four of them!” Natasha abruptly informs her. “Nearly threw hands with a raccoon.”

The sudden change from her vicious threatening voice to her pitiful grumble and the story itself, has Ana breaking out in laughter. It’s a liberating feeling, getting to laugh as brusquely as she did. Lessens the tightness in her chest a little more. She laughs for two minutes straight, Nat joining along with her.

“Thank you, Nat.” Ana whispers after they’ve calmed down.

“I swear if another apology follows that, I will punch a pregnant woman in the arm.” Though as she threatens this, Ana can see the coy smirk on her mouth.

Instead, Natasha reaches over, squeezing her hand. She tries not to feel all of Natasha’s anguish, but the little she does get, reminds her that she’s not alone in this aftermath. Ana returns the gesture with a harder grip.

“Now, fix the damn radio, would you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

The next two nights pulls Ana straight to sleep after she gets comfortable on her left side. She’s so tired the past 48 hours, that her mind finally shuts off, and she has dreamless nights. It doesn’t stop her waking up feeling guilty, like she missed the dreams on purpose; it brings the same agonizing ache as always.

It also never stops from calling out to her while she’s conscious. As if her soul is angry that she missed that dream world for two days. Something happens following lunch three days later, while everyone is gathered around the kitchen island.

Annie.

The soft whisper is like a trance caressing her body, a lovers call inside her mind, beckoning her back. Back to sleep, because she knows, without a doubt, she will end up in that world. The strange orange world, where the sky looks like the burning afterglow of raging fires. The odd world with wetless water, an unknown little girl, an ominous door.

There, in that place of illusion, does she hear his voice loud and clear. Calls her by her name, lifts his hand to gently fit his palm along the curve of her cheek. He’s there, always with that sad little smile. His eyes so incredibly blue, so tender, yearning as if he misses her.

In that world, is Bucky.

In that world, Ana can steal just a few moments feeling Bucky. Against her skin, in the air. His breath in her lungs, his beating heart in the empty cavity of her chest. For just five short seconds, begging for time to stretch, pleading for time to freeze, Ana has Bucky in her soul.

Annie.

Her sharp inhale brings her out of her own daze, dropping her face in her hands. She shakes her head, resisting the urge to just take a nap, allow herself to fall into that water once more. Sometimes, she wishes she could just sleep and not wake, to stay forever with Bucky in that world. Then maybe, maybe she could save him.

“Bucky,” Ana barely murmurs under her breath. Tears stinging behind her eyelids. “Bucky. I miss you. I miss you.”

She leans forward, until she rests her head on a solid surface, face now hidden in the crook of her arm. She right hand grips the edge, fingers clenching as she hears his voice in her head again. Her soul cries out for its missing half.

“Ana? Everything okay?”

She makes a noise, can’t tell if it’s a confirmation or not. Her chest feels like it’s tightening. The baby jabs a sharp kick, or a punch, aimed right at her ribs. It’s enough to jolt her back to reality, and she slowly pushes herself up straight. She meets the concerned gazes of six other people.

The lights of the compound are flickering again, the air heavy with dampening energy. Nebula is the closest to her, and carefully reaches over to uncurl Ana’s fingers from the death grip on the counter. Bits of granite and dust sprinkle to the floor, Nebula leans over the cracked spot. Ana gives her a curious look, then quickly meets the gaze of everyone else. She makes eye contact with both Steve and Natasha, keen green and blue eyes not fooled by the cover up.

“Are you feeling alright?” Carol questions, stepping closer. “Your energy levels seem to be spiking.”

“Y-yeah! Yes! I’m fine!” Ana quickly reassures. She inhales and exhales deeply, and the lights steady. “Uh…the baby. Yeah, the baby was just moving around a lot is all. I’m fine, feel fine. Honest.”

Natasha sighs, suddenly looking tired and leaning her hands on the counter. She shakes her head, then her and Steve share a look. A silent conversation. Steve nods once.

“Ana, I think it’s time to talk about something you’ve been trying to hide,” Natasha speaks calmly.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Ana denies. She’s usually better at lying than this. “I told you, pregnancy has thrown my energy off a little, that’s all.”

“Cut the bullshit, Ana!” Steve snaps coldly, eyes flashing.

Ana blinks in shock. Steve angry is…a little frightening. He doesn’t stand to be lied to. “Steve-“

“You have been getting stronger?” It’s a question but it sounds more like observation.

“I’ve gained my strength back now that I’ve been eating more-“

“Not what I am talking about.”

“You have to know, Ana,” Natasha urges, brows pinched together.

She stares at them for a second, then she gets up as quickly and carefully as she can. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Ana walks out of the kitchen, heading towards her room as fast as she can waddle. Her heart is pounding faster, her own panic about the developing situation coming to the surface. Of course, Ana has noticed herself getting stronger the further she gets into pregnancy. It’s not like the thought has never crossed her mind. She had just been too busy shutting her emotions off and trying to figure out that dream world and trying not to suffocate on ashes and heartbreak.

Of course, she’s noticed the dented fingers marks on wooden and metal surfaces, of the spidering cracks in the toilet bowl, the ripping of several maternity sweatpants as she tugged them up over her stomach. Of the broken pieces of plastic cups and one of the bottles of the elixir. Of course, she knew the bruises she left on a damn super soldier were from her.

Speaking of.

Steve follows her down the hallway, catching up rather quickly. “Ana! Ana, please. Look, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to snap at you, but you have to know. Maybe just get it checked out by Dr. Hammond, or another doctor, run some tests. I’m just worried how this could affect you and the baby.”

Ana halts when she’s in front of her door, rounding on Steve. “No! This doesn’t concern you, Steve!”

“I’m just looking out for your wellbeing!”

She grabs the handle of her door with frustration. “I don’t know why you suddenly seem to have an obligation to me, but-“

Ana stops talking the moment she forcefully pushes the door handle. She didn’t account for how much strength she used as she shoved. She stumbles forward, her arm going straight through the hole, holding the doorknob. It’s splintered with jagged edges from the broken wood. She stares wide-eyed at the shape of the hole, strangely looking like the broken piece would fit back in perfectly like a puzzle.

This is new. Ana slowly moves her gaze to Steve; who gawks at her. Shit.

Awkwardly, she gently tries replacing the section of wood she pushed off. It sticks, not fitting quite right, but she’ll just pretend it did happen, like everything else she had broken.

“Holy fuck,” Steve whispers, stunned.

Deciding to remain silent, considering there’s no way around it, Ana just watches Steve. She can see him mentally gathering the pieces in his head. She only makes it to the count of four as he figures it out.

“I fucking knew it. It is enhancing you.”

“Steve. Please don’t,” Ana pleads, her anxiety making her nerves burn.

“The serum transferred to you. Which means it transferred to-“

“No, no it didn’t!” She desperately disputes. “This is just a weird fluke thing. You know, Nebula accidentally pulled off an entire door last week.”

Steve shakes his head, eyes flashing with concern as he looks her over. “We need to take you to a doctor. Dr. Cho maybe, run tests to confirm it.”

White hot panic surges up her spine. Ana frantically shakes her head. This is exactly why she didn’t want anyone to know, why she didn’t give it much thought. Why she hid it. Drawing blood, conducting tests, being studied; all for the slight chance of her baby possibly having the super soldier serum in its genetic code.

“Absolutely not!” Ana states fervidly, fear rising up in her.

He frowns, expression serious. “Ana, this could be-“

“I know what it could be, Steve!” She yells. “I know exactly what this means!”

Ana places her hands protectively over her stomach. “It’s the serum! It was in Bu- in Bucky’s genetic code. In his DNA. Which means it’s more than likely is in the baby’s genetics! My baby is going to be enhanced, there’s no way it’s not. Bucky is a...was-“

She breaks off, voice shaky, her body trembling. She swallows thickly, knowing she must finally face the truth. She feels movement under her hands, as if the baby is confirming what she’s known since the beginning. All her senses becoming sharper; hearing more sensitive, eyesight slightly better.

“Bucky was enhanced,” Ana continues, voice as panicked as before.  “I’m-I’m enhanced. I don’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. I can’t! If doctors or scientists found out, if anyone finds out that this is the child of the Winter Soldier and an Energy Alchemist!? Who the hell knows what exactly they would want to do with our baby!”

“Ana,” Steve looks torn, “We can keep it a secret. Find a trustworthy-“

“Fuck trustworthy, Steve!” She shouts, slicing her hand through the air. “No one is trustworthy! They’re still out there! Hydra, AIM, other organizations and groups just like them!”

“Hey, hey-“ He attempts to interrupt, to calm her down. It doesn’t work.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY’s voice speaks up over them in warning.”

“I know!” He says to the AI.

Ana barely hears their exchange. Her breath begins to shorten, chest tightening. “Thanos didn’t fucking correct the universe like his fucked up brain thought! It didn’t snap away the evil people of the world. It made it easier for them! Hydra- Eric Woods kidnapped us just three year ago! If they knew. They’re still out there. If they find out-“

“That is not going to happen!” Steve promises vehemently, stepping closer.

“They- they can’t! Can’t find out. This is all I have left,” Ana begins to hyperventilate, cradling her stomach. “This is all I have left. This is all I have left.”

“Hey, honey, I’m sorry. Deep breathes, Ana,” Steve coaxes gently. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen.”

Ana is barely aware of her skin beginning to glow brighter. The walls started to tremble, the floor shakes. She feels a chaotic and static energy in the air. There’s a sharp tightening in her chest again and she needs…she needs her husband.

But Bucky isn’t here. Ana is not dreaming; she doesn’t see him. She doesn’t hear the faint haunting murmurs of her name. He’s not gently touching her cheek, gazing at her with those loving blue eyes. She doesn’t feel Bucky and that’s one of the worst things that has been carved out of her soul.

“Okay, okay, no doctors, Ana. I swear it,” Steve says carefully. “Just try breathe, Ana.”

Slowly, he reaches out to her. As if to comfort her, support her, remind her that she is not alone in this. When Steve’s fingers are inches from her skin, she can feel her powers reacting viciously. Ana takes a step back.

“I-I can’t!” She pants heavily. “It feels like. I wake up. Ashes. Dust. It’s- I wake up from ashes and it’s everywhere! Its-It’s in my lungs. My throat. It feels like I’m suffocating! I wake up and I’m suffocating.”

If she was aware enough, Ana could read his expression as broken, maybe a little helpless. Instead, Steve finally touches her. He doesn’t even get his fingers wrapped around her wrist, before he is abruptly, and harshly ricocheted backward.

His body is thrown halfway down the hall, slamming against the end of the wall. He hits it so hard, plaster and cement crack and rain pieces down on his limp form. Ana smacks her hand over her mouth. Light bulbs shatter, the air sizzles hotly, and she covers her head with her arm as bits of glass fall from the lights.

Despite the sight and groaning from Steve, Ana can’t seem to get a handle on her power, her energy, her emotions. It’s what lead to her outburst of power weeks prior. She isn’t wearing the rings Shuri gave her, has no other way of regulating herself. Quickly, she presses her hands to her chest, trying to regain her breathing, to focus, to control her emotions, her powers. Maybe she should turn off her emotions again. It’s better, safer for everyone, and herself.

Something grips her left shoulder, vice and grounding. Abruptly, Ana’s powers halt, then begins to settle. She gasps at the sudden feeling, but she doesn’t push it away, instead she grabs the hand on her shoulder and squeezes.

“I’m right here,” A soothing reminder. Carol’s voice. “You’re okay, you’re alright. I’m here.”

It’s the same feeling Ana had experience before with Carol’s own powers. As if they call out to her, like it wants to comfort her. Remind her that she really isn’t alone; not with this.

Her eyes sting as Ana tightly shuts them. Inhaling slowly, deeply, she nods. Her knees feel weak, her skin hot as she comes down, everything falling silent and settling around her. A sharp jab to the side of her stomach makes her wince; the baby protesting the rise and fall of the energy.

Ana snaps her eyes open, releasing Carol as she takes a shaky step forward. She feels the hands behind her hovering by her arms, a precaution in case she stumbles. Steve is taking his time getting up. A wave of guilt mixed with nausea curls through her.

“S-Steve?” Ana calls out with a trembling voice.

He attempts to push himself up, but his hand slips, and he presses his forehead to the debris covered floor. Ana moves closer. She doesn’t quite understand what happened. Her energy shouldn’t have knocked him back like that without the protective shield. In fact, twice it’s accepted Steve. Once in Wakanda, right after half of everyone vanished, and when he recklessly held her just weeks ago.

When she reaches him, now with Carol’s supporting hands on her arm, she carefully kneels placing a shaky hand on his back. Steve’s panting slightly, groaning low in his throat as he finally gets himself up on all fours. He tilts sideways, sitting back and slumping against the wall.

“Are you- did I hurt you?”

When Steve looks up to meet Ana’s gaze, her heart clenches. The emotion storming in his blue eyes roots her to the spot. His eyes are red, wet, tracks of tears staining his cheeks. The utter guilt, shame, and pain shinning in them renders Ana speechless.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks. Ana shakes her head, perplexed. “I’m so sorry, Ana.”

“No, I-“

“This isn’t on you,” He cuts her off, wincing as he straightens himself. “I failed you.”

Lifting his hand, he lays it gingerly on her shoulder. “I promise-I swear on my life. I will keep you and your baby safe. I…I couldn’t keep Bucky...I couldn’t bring him back to you. I broke that promise to you. I won’t break this one.”

Ana feels her face screw up with emotion. “Okay,” She exhales thickly, tears spilling from her eyes. “Okay.”

She drops her forehead to his shoulder, her own shaking as she cries. Through her tears, she listens closely, trying to decipher Steve’s breathing. His heart is slowly settling back to his version of a normal rate, and his breaths even out, no sign of broken ribs.

“Feeling alright?” Steve checks in a few minutes of them sitting there crying.

Sniffling, she wipes her nose on her sleeve and leans back. “Are you?”

“Just bruises, I think. Feeling exhausted, but I’m okay. Didn’t beat me up too bad. I’m actually a little proud.”

It makes Ana chuckle wetly, wiping more tears away.

“You guys okay?” Carol questions behind her. Ana hears the concern hidden in the coolness of her tone. “Didn’t rattle your brain too much, did she Rogers?”

“Nah, I can do this-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ana cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “He’s got this annoyingly admiring habit of never staying down.”

A smile lights up Carol’s face as she extends a hand out for her. Ana takes it, allowing her new friend to lift her with her majority of her strength. When she looks behind Carol, Natasha is standing right there. There’s no anger or disappointment in her eyes, she just offers her a tiny smile then goes to help Steve up, brushing off rubble from his shirt.

“I,” Ana hesitates, soothing her hands over her belly as the baby wiggles around. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t had tried hiding this from either of you.” She addresses Natasha as well.

She carefully wraps her arms around Ana. “We shouldn’t have pushed. You know we love you. We’ve been nothing but worried about you. And this little one.” Natasha lends down to gently rub Ana’s belly. “Huh? Just being a strong little super soldier in there, aren’t you?”

The baby responds by kicking again. Ana sighs, the sensation it a little weird to her. She can’t help but crack a smile, despite hurting Steve.

“I’m not lying when I say I’m scared.” Ana tells them. She looks at Steve. “But, if you think it’s best I go see-“

“No,” He interrupts her. “How could I ever think I had the right to tell you what to do, to make a decision for you and your baby. It’s your choice, Ana. If you don’t want too, don’t. I’m sorry I pressured you. You have all the right not to trust anyone.”

“I trust you, you know, that right? I trust all of you here. I just don’t want anyone else to know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve breathes heavily, and carefully wraps his arm around her.

Ana leans into him, exhausted and suddenly livid at herself for pushing him away for months. Angry that she pushed away people whom she considers family and ignoring their own pain in the process.

“I’m sorry if I’m still a little off,” Ana apologizes shyly. “Having to deal with my emotions again, feeling so much around me. It’s overwhelming.”

“Hey, don’t worry about any of it. We understood, and we still do.” Natasha says. “By the way, a very annoyed AI alerted me of your spiking vitals. I always found it a little creepy how emotional Tony makes his artificial intelligence. Just take it easy the rest of the night, yeah?”

Ana nods as Carol beckons for them to get out of the hallway. She helps them both along, guiding Ana carefully over shattered glass.

**

Hours later, after the hallway has been cleaned up, both Ana’s and the baby’s vitals checked thoroughly by FRIDAY and a call from Dr. Hammond, Steve finally knocks on Ana’s door. He figures it time to honestly talk to her, lay out his own fears. To truly apologize to her.

“Are you concussed?” Ana asks flatly. She’s propped up against her pillows, with two beneath her knees.

Steve smiles despite himself, making yet another connection between her and when Bucky was a teenager yanking him out of back alley fights. Closing the newly fixed door behind him, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. He notices in her hands, one of the many journals belonging to Bucky, opened as her fingers trace the written words, like she’s tattooing them on her skin.

“Hard head, remember?” He quips, getting comfortable in his position.

Ana snorts and kicks at his propped up knee. Inhaling to calm his nerves, Steve decides it just best to get right to it, staring straight at those big brown eyes.

Ones that have always seen right through people. Ones that have hardened and burned cold the past several months. He swallows thickly. Her gaze pins him to his spot. The only person to ever make him feel like he’s being picked apart down to his soul has been Natasha, but Ana is a very close second. But then she blinks, the cold lessening as confusion settles in.

“You’re nervous. I can feel it.”

“Everything is my fault,” Steve confesses in a rush, keeping eye contact even though he wants to sink into the earth.

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s been uh, a few things I’ve been too afraid to tell you. To talk to you about.” He rubs his sweaty hands on his jeans. “You said you didn’t know why I have an obligation to care take of you. Well, I made a promise to you in Wakanda, remember. I also made one to Bucky.”

 Ana’s frown deepens but she remains silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

Wakanda, fifteen minutes before the battle of Thanos:

Steve had to tear his eyes away from Bucky and Ana’s goodbye, not from discomfort, but if he continued to watch he would have told Bucky to stay with her. He should have told Bucky to just stay with her, for them to protect each other, to help protect Shuri as she works on Vision.

He should tell Bucky now, to just go back where he belongs, right next to his wife. Steve watches Bucky with a keen eye as they ride towards the field; the wind blowing his long hair back from his face. Steve’s known Bucky his entire life. He knows every little sign of distress, anger, no matter how hard Bucky always tried to hide it from him. Only one other person knows Bucky just as much as Steve does- probably knows him even better by this point.

Bucky didn’t want to leave Ana; anyone could see that. Now, as Steve watches Bucky’s new vibranium hand fiddle with a loose thread on his pants, he knows it’s taking everything in his friend to stay on the hovercraft. Bucky’s hips keep shifting his weight side to side. His chest is rising is slow calculating movements, his jaw is clenching, he slowly closes his eyes. Steve swallows thickly. They should have never asked Bucky to join one more fight. He makes up his mind.

“Buck-“

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts what he was about to say. He opens his eyes, stares straight ahead. “If anything happens to me-“

“Don’t fucking talk like that.” Steve reprimands firmly, dread curling in his stomach.

Bucky meets his gaze, serious and, fearful. “We can’t kid ourselves here, pal. If- if anything happens to me-“ He swallows with his brows pinched together. “Can you…can you take care of her?”

“Bucky-“

“I need you to take care of Ana for me. Please. I need to know they will- she. I need to know she’ll be taken care of. Please Steve.”

The begging desperation in Bucky’s eyes nearly breaks his heart. For once, Steve bites back his disagreement and nods. “Of course, I’ll take care of her, Buck.”

A sudden heavy boot presses down atop of Steve’s foot. “Thank you.”

His whisper of gratitude is nearly lost in the sounds of them landing at their destination. They file off the aircraft, but Steve can’t stomach it anymore. He quickly turns to Bucky, who double checks the knives at his thigh holster, and grabs his gun from the crate.

“Go back, Buck. I mean it. Just go back to Ana.” Steve orders. He can hear how frantic he sounds. “You should be together.”

A bitter smile flashes across Bucky’s mouth. “With you til’ the end of line, Stevie.” He lifts his gaze from his gun, that same old mischief back in his eyes. “Plus, Ana’s safest where she is right now. It’s your dumb ass I gotta protect. Like always.”

From his right, Steve hears Natasha snort in humor. He shoots her a glare then shoves Bucky ahead of him, and just like that, they’re leading the march onto the battlefield. It feels way too reminiscent of their time in the Howling Commandos, marching into battle.

*

Silence follows as Steve finishes telling Ana that bit of information. Watches as she slowly smooths her hands over of her stomach, having put the journal aside. Her left hand pauses for a second, gently tapping her fingers over the spot, presses down, and continues on. Her wedding rings reflect like glitter off the lights as she moves. Steve frowns, curious. She’s been doing that a lot lately and he wonders how often the baby kicks, if it feels the same restlessness as its mother.

“Well, it was a pretty dumbass move when you went after Thanos with your bare fucking hands.” Ana says.

Steve makes a protesting noise. “Didn’t you do that same thing?”

“We’re talking about you here, not me. Plus, I had the shield activated.”

The little humor he hears in her voice makes Steve smiles just a little. At least some of her old self seems to be shining through the broken cracks.

“Of course, Bucky would ask you take care of me,” She whispers solemnly.

“Haven’t kept that promise to him though,” Steve mumbles. “He said “they” at the time, and I didn’t put it together until you told me. But I’ve been doing a shit job, to be honest.”

“To be honest,” Ana repeats his words with firmer tone. “That’s completely on me. I haven’t made this easy for anyone. I am so incredibly sorry again.”

Steve reaches out to grab her hand, giving her fingers a firm squeeze. “No one blames you for what you did. We understand, but your, what is it now? A hundredth apology is accepted.”

Ana offers him a small smile. It falls a second later. “Why do you think it’s all your fault?”

“Because I broke my promise to bring Bucky back to you. I broke my promise to both of you.” Steve lowers his gaze, taking his hand from hers. “If I just. Fuck. If I just defeated him, if I just had killed Thanos with every chance I got, then none of this would have happened. I would have brought Bucky back safe and sound and you wouldn’t be going through this alone. Vision would still be alive. Wanda wouldn’t have had to endure all that pain. Fuck, she was still so young. And Sam-“

Steve hears his voice crack and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to hold back his tears. He didn’t come here to have a sob fest on her bed. A soft warm touch rests over his other hand, a gentle trickle beginning to ease his emotions.

“Steve,” Ana speaks so softly.

He slowly pulls his hand from her touch. Finally looking up, he shakes his head. “I don’t need you to do that. You don’t need to change use your ability for me. Don’t exert yourself.”

“But you feel so sad,” She tells him. Steve nods in a mute confession. “You haven’t spoken to anyone about this have you?”

He shakes his head again.

“Then talk to me if you won’t allow me to help you.”

He huffs his exhales, giving her a look. “Have you talked to anyone about how you feel?” Steve challenges, not unkindly.

“No, but what do you think this? Just get it all out. Talk to me.”

This was not what he came here for. He just wanted to wallow in his own self-deprecating pity. To confess to Ana that he had failed her, he failed the universe. The crushing weight of that brings him down in a pit of darkness each night, drowns him in his own horrible nightmares. Watches helplessly as all his friends fall to the ground in piles of ash.

Steve came to Ana, with some oddly placed masochism and a small bit of hope that she would lash out at him again because he deserves it. He deserves her avoiding his eyes. Deserves to nearly have his own life drained from his body, to have her powers injure him as he’s thrown against solid concrete. To have any ounce of her hate, anger, placed all on him.

But the way Ana sits patiently, kindly and not shouting cruses or damnation to him. The way she just tried calming him, helping him, is exactly who is she. Despite the months of shutting off her own emotions. A small piece of herself is still there, if broken and haunted, but there.

It causes Steve to finally break.

“I’m angry!” He spits out, clutching at the sheets. “I am so fucking angry at myself! I could have made Bucky stay with you. I could have saved him.” Steve releases a bitter laugh. “I guess that’s my track record though isn’t it? I could never save Bucky. Not from that damn train, not from fucking Hydra, not from Zemo’s revenge, not from being stolen away from you.

“You know, I thought when I was first got the serum, that I would finally be able to protect the people I love most, to protect my family. What a load of bullshit! I still lost him. I had to watch him die, again. You had to watch Bucky die and I still couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t protect you from losing him. I couldn’t protect my family, my friends, the goddamn world! I couldn’t save anyone from Thanos.”

Tears are freely falling down Steve’s cheeks, tracing into his lips and soaking into his jeans. He licks the saltiness from his lips, taking in a trembling breath. He sniffs hard, shaking his head again.

“I failed. I failed everyone. I failed Tony-“

“Steve-“ Ana attempts to dispute his statement, but he doesn’t allow her.

He continues without giving her an ounce of room to speak. “I did. I betrayed him. He’s right, maybe if we fought together, we could have defeated Thanos. That’s on me. I failed. And I failed Bucky again, time and time again and because of it. I failed you too.”

“That night, when you broke down, I felt every single emotion you had. All your anguish, your loneliness, your pain, your heartbreak. You felt empty. It was crippling, suffocating. That’s not something you should have to deal with or feel by yourself, Ana. None of this is your fault. You didn’t fail. Just put it all on me instead. I deserve that.”

 “Hey, stop!”

Steve abruptly scoots forward and quickly grabs her right hand, pressing his solidly against his chest. He ignores her startled, somewhat fearful look. He feels an electric spark shock his chest as her skin glows for a fleeting moment. It fades when she clearly doesn’t feel threatened anymore. If Ana had blasted him back again, he would have welcomed it.

“You shut off your emotions, Ana. There’s a part of me that wonders if it made it easier to shut me out too. Do you hate me because I failed you? Because I failed the entire universe? I’m fucking Captain America, who let the world turn to dust. I want you to hate me, Ana. I want you to lash out at me.”

Ana yanks her hand back, then promptly slaps him across the face.

Steve blinks twice, stunned. His cheek stings and he tastes copper on his tongue for biting the inside of his cheek. His head clears a little, and he thinks yeah, he probably deserved that. When he gathers himself to meet her gaze, there’s fury in her eyes. Something he hasn’t seen in Ana for so long.

“I nearly killed you, Steve!” She hisses at him, shaking out her hand once. “I wasn’t trying to share my pain with anyone else. You just happened to be there, and I almost stole your life energy. You’re the only self-sacrificing idiot that runs headfirst to hold onto to a Life Drainer. How the fuck is that making good on your promise to Bucky to take care of me, if you aren’t even alive!?”

Guilt floods through his veins as Steve realizes she’s right, and he got way into his head just then. Didn’t articulate properly what he was trying to say. He drops his head in shame as she continues to talk.

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” She apologies, but her voice still has a hint of aggravation. “But goddamnit, Rogers. You punishing yourself for thinking you’re the only one who failed? For breaking promises? You aren’t the only one who thinks they failed people, Steven. As for your promise.”

Steve lifts his head, tentatively meeting her gaze. Her eyes are watery, tears brimming along her lower eyelids. She’s stroking her arms over her stomach again, one after the other, blowing out a shaky breath as her tears fall over. Steve feels even worse, having made her distressed yet again.

“I didn’t make it easy for anyone, especially you. I wasn’t thinking of the repercussions of what shutting of my emotions would do. I couldn’t handle it, Steve. I couldn’t handle it at all and I felt like if I didn’t do something about it, then-“ Ana breaks off, shrugging. She hastily wipes her tears away. “I am so, so deeply and incredibly sorry. I should have never-“

Steve carefully takes hold of her wrist. “Hey, no honey, none of that anymore. You needed to protect yourself and your baby first. I understand why you did. I just didn’t know how to help you, and I still don’t. I didn’t mean to stress you out more. I shouldn’t have said what I did, ask you to do something you would never do in the first place.”

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupts their conversation abruptly. The AI doesn’t sound happy with him. “I suggest you leave Mrs. Barnes alone for the rest of the night. Her vitals hint at distress that I’m afraid you have caused. Twice now.”

Shit. He definitely did not come here with those intentions, and Steve can’t seem to stop fucking up tonight.

“No, FRIDAY, it’s fine!” Ana quickly reassures her. “I’ll do my breathing exercises. I feel fine.”

There’s a pause. “As you wish, Mrs. Barnes. You have four vials left of the elixir if you decided to drink one now, it wouldn’t hurt to do so as you didn’t take one three hours prior. However, Captain, if you continue to upset her or her baby, I will activate the electric security protocol.”

Steve glares at Ana as she snorts her laughter behind her fist as she takes out a bottle. “I understand.” He tells the AI. “I assume Pepper added that last part?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” Another Pause. “It was not Pepper.”

FRIDAY goes silent as Ana downs the elixir with wide shocked eyes. Steve shoves his hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh. He stays quiet as he watches Ana calm herself down with the breathing exercises. He waits about five minutes until she finally opens her eyes and flashes him a small smile. He can hear the steady, relaxed beats of each heart rate and relaxes himself.

“This is definitely hypocritical for me to say,” Ana begins, wincing as she touches her stomach. “But you can’t keep that all locked inside. Exhibit A.” She gestures to herself.

“I know,” He huffs out heavily. “Nat and I talked sometimes, drank mostly, but we didn’t talk it about enough. I just, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to help you or anyone else for that matter.”

“But you are you helping yourself?”

“You’re right, you are being a little hypocritical, Barnes.”

In a rare sight of true Ana fashion, she flicks him off, then shrugs. “I’m trying to now. For the sake of this little bean.”

Sorrow weighs heavily in his bones. “You know if I could bring him back. If I had an ounce of an idea to do so-“

“I know, I know. I do.” She sighs tiredly, leaning further back, her eyes suddenly exhausted. “It’s going to take a long time to process this. For everyone. And yeah. I miss him so fucking much, Steve, it hurts to even breathe. But, I don’t think you failed me. I don’t think anyone thinks you failed them.”

Steve wants to believe her so much, but he’s always going to feel his guilt for failing her and Bucky specifically. “I still think I did.” He mutters bitterly.

“Yeah well,” Ana sniffs, wiping her sleeve over her eyes and nose. “As Rocket as said, there’s a lot of that going around, huh? I think we’re all just wallowing in our own personal feelings of self-failure.”

Steve suddenly thinks of Thor, and how he took off in the middle of the night, now word or warning. His heart aches. “I guess so. Little guy seems to have taken a liking to you though. Not as many sarcastic comments.”

Smiling as if she’s proud, she says, “It’s only because I let him clean Bucky’s gun.”

He doubts that. Secretly he thinks Ana may remind Rocket of someone he lost. “Listen. It’s getting late and I stressed you out enough with my emotional turmoil. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I literally threw you into a wall earlier, then bitch slapped you, so, we’re even.” She tells him as Steve helps her shimming around, adjusting pillows and pulling the covers down.

“Deal.” He agrees with a small chuckle. He rubs the top of her head, slightly musing up her hair. She glares at him. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You and the baby? I’m sorry about-“

“So many apologizes. Yes, I swear. We feel good. Just tired, is all.” Ana insists.

Steve nods, makes sure she’s as comfortable as can be before he makes his way to leave. Ana calling his name one more time turns him around. She looks inches away from sleep, her stomach supported by one of the thicker pillows, and she has what he knows to be Bucky’s pillow clutched to her chest.

“Thank you.” Ana murmurs.

“For what?” He questions, confused.

“For still looking after me. For being there.”

She doesn’t explain further as her eyes flutter shut. Steve however, as he gives her a smile she can’t see, knows exactly what Ana is thanking him for. His talk may not have gone the way he planned, and he still feels like there much more to converse, but Steve thinks they made some progress. He leans back against the door for a few moments, head tilted back as he stares up at the ceiling and the broken light bulbs.

“I’ll keep my promise to you, Buck.” Steve says quietly to the ceiling.

Once more, he recalls Bucky’s little slip up. “Please. I need to know they will-she.”

Bucky was asking Steve to take care of Ana, and their child.

“I swear, pal. They will both be taken care of.”

****************************************************************

A/N: This was a monster to write. Thank you for sticking with me. This story is definitely going to pick up pace in the next chapter and on. Please stay healthy and safe and inside. Don’t forget to wash your hands, especially after coughing or sneezing and stop hoarding the toilet paper!

Drabbles: Twenty-Two     Drabbles: Twenty-Four

Tags:  @thecreatiivecorner​​ @buckyland​​ @stressedasalways​​ @watchoutforfrostbite​​ @justreadingfics​​ @keldachick​​ @eurynome827​​ @elatedmarvel​​ @shesalatesh​​ @paintedgreywriting​​ @boney-and-skinny​​ @buckaroo-blue​ @afewmarvelousthoughts​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @shesalatesh​

[getalittleclosey]

under 50k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 100k

100k+

☆ the beginning of everything by thedeathchamber 31k

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

--

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

☆ to kill the mess we’ve made by misandrogyny 43k

And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

☆ heart open, bloodstain on my sleeve by silkbombs (mulberrygrey) 36k

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry admits, one hand coming to rub the back of his neck, “I stared at you for a good while before I finally got the guts to come up to you. You looked so pretty sitting there, with your little ankles and your pencil in your mouth, so enthralling… art in front of art.”

Louis’ not sure what to say, so he just kind of sits there, eyes bugging out as he stares at Harry.

“I mean, like you’re not an object!” Harry rushes out, babbling.

“I just, there’s something about you that’s so captivating, and maybe it’s the way your eyes are like a watercolor painting of the sea, or how delicate your hands look when you draw, but I just wanted to get to know you. It’s not like I pick up random boys at art museums usually, I swear. Not that I’m trying to pick you up! Unless you want to be…God, fuck I’m sorry this is so awkward now. I can go, um, if you want."

--- Or, the one where Harry's the long limbed, gangly, sweetheart who just happens be a high profile art thief who conducts heists for a living and Louis' the loud, pushy art student who just happens to steal his heart.

☆ a king beside you by stylinsoncity 26k

When the aliens invade, the last thing Louis expects is to fall in love.

☆ the boys of summer by afirethatcannotdie 45k

“I mean…we’re gonna have to sneak around anyway, yeah? Like, with that whole rules thing that I guess we’ve decided to ignore. Might make it a little more fun this way.”

AU. In which Louis is a reluctant sports coach, Harry's a fellow counselor who wears tiny yellow shorts, and camp rules say they're forbidden to date.

☆ don’t let the tide come and take me by kiwikero 29k

The aquarium in the lobby has been there as long as Louis can remember, and so has the merman inside. That is, until the day Louis loses his job and decides to set the creature free.

They set off on a road trip to the sea, learning to communicate more and more each day. Their destination is LA, but the closer they get and the more Louis gets to know the merman, the more he dreads having to say goodbye.

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

☆ introduction to dynamics by juliusschmidt 29k

Louis Tomlinson is the outspoken omega in the 'Introduction to Dynamics' course Harry wishes he didn't have to take. He's nearly certain to present as a beta, after all. Things will be simple for him.

☆ saved tonight by objectlesson 31k

Harry is the world's most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis's biggest fan. Louis hasn't written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It's probably destiny.

☆ once upon a dream by objectlesson 27k

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

--

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

☆ rivers ‘til i reach you by embodied 29k

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer. AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

☆ life was a song, you came along by rainbowninja167 38k

It's embarrassing how long it takes Louis to recognize his own song. Niall had sung it as a bright, hopeful love song, and that’s honestly how Louis had always assumed it should sound. But this new voice, slow and rough, stripped of any backing instrument, has infused the lyrics with just the tumultuous mix of fear and defiance that Louis can remember so clearly from the night he wrote them. It’s not a comfortable thing, to feel like someone is singing all your secrets back to you.

Louis is a songwriter trapped in a lie that could ruin his best friend's career. Harry owns a record store, distrusts everyone in the music industry on principle, but loves Niall Horan's newest album. A modern retelling of Singin' in the Rain.

☆ learning to eat by photo41 29k

Celebrity chef Louis Tomlinson has a problem. He’s opening his first restaurant in 9 weeks, and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s ‘standoffish’ and ‘rude’ and ‘quick to temper’. Whatever. He ends up saddled with an annoying, happy-go lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. His tv presenter and pop star best friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting Julia Child?!

Kitchen AU where Harry helps Louis re-learn how to eat. (METAPHORICALLY)

note: just to clarify this is NOT an eating disorder fic don’t worry

☆ runner on third by kikikryslee 40k

As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. --- Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don't pick up where they left off.

note: there are four fics in this series that total to 60k

☆ roots by cherrystreet 43k

There aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous. He’s spent the past couple of years on and off various stages, filled with screaming fans, all chanting his name, loud and adoring. He’s done countless interviews, some even on live, national television, never faltering over his words, answers meticulously planned out, smooth and steady. He’s signed countless autographs, taken just as many photos, and even when he sat in his label’s studio, waiting to see how high up on the charts his single made it, he didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable. It’s all been unbelievably fun. No, there aren’t many things that make Harry Styles nervous.

Enter Louis Tomlinson.

☆ once upon a dream by thedeathchamber 33k

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

note: there’s a 24k sequel for this!

☆ the melody you never heard by bananasandboots 30k

It's one last adventure. One last chance to be young and carefree. One final weekend before they take up their internships, their corporate positions, before they enter the real world, fresh out of university. Niall's his best mate. Liam's been there for him since they were lost, little freshmen, trying to find their ways through an overwhelming first year. Harry can't disappoint them, even if it means enduring four days with Louis.

Louis, who he does share a history with, a history he's never told anyone about, not even Niall, a history he hasn't brought up in three years because it's stupid and embarrassing and confusing.

Or, the one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

☆ born to make you happy by objectlesson 26k

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

note: i literally had to take a break and reread this cause i love it so much

☆ close to nowhere by angelichl 35k

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

☆ adrenaline by reveries_passions 38k 

“Harry Styles,” Nameless Boy who now has a name says. Louis is too busy having an internal crisis to realize the boy has just introduced himself as Harry Styles. Harry Styles, only son of Des Styles, PhD, Dean of Harvard Medical School. Harry Styles, known by everyone and their grandmother. Harry Styles, star rower. Harry Styles, youngest enrolled student in graduate school at Harvard University. Oh my god, Louis thinks, mortified. I just slept with Harry Styles. As he reaches out tentatively to shake the boy’s hand, another thought hits him. Oh my god. Harry Styles is gay.

~

louis tomlinson, college dropout, up and coming dj, and gay activist, is the notorious owner of exclusive underground gay club, adrenaline.

harry styles, med student by day, partier by night, child prodigy and seemingly heterosexual son of harvard professors, is the youngest and arguably the smartest student at harvard medical school.

or: a one night stand wasn't supposed to become the greatest love story of the 21st century.

☆ bloodsport by tofiveohfive 40k

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

☆ the haunting of louis tomlinson helloamhere 31k

“I'm not afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

Every single magnet unstuck itself from the fridge and fell to the floor in a clattering cascade.

“I'm only a little afraid of ghosts,” Louis said.

*** OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

☆ can i not like you for a while? by larryshares 43k

louis tomlinson is awful. harry is just as difficult, and they're both terrible to each other. it makes being in the same acapella group together quite complicated.

☆ delight in masques by kassio 28k

Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way.

When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is.

(An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it's due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)

☆ no love like your love by rearviewdreamer 43k

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.  

note: i love vegan harry styles

☆ for neither never nor ever by fairytalelights 29k

Then Harry looked down. A newspaper was on the steps in front of him, looking new, like it had only just gotten delivered but no one had bothered to carry it inside yet. That, in itself, wasn't unusual. The unusual thing was the headline, Chernobyl - Half a Year Later, and the date in the corner. 5th November 1986. He looked up to stare at the girl in the doorway one last time, before he did the only logical thing his body knew how to do in this situation. He bolted.

or, the one where Harry travels through time and has to come to terms with losing everything he's ever known. Louis might be the only thing that feels real.

☆ worth dying for by whoknows 45k

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

☆ listen to your heart by lovelarry10 35k

Are you kidding me right now?

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

*****

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

☆ another day gettin’ into trouble by whoknows 26k

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

☆ all the right moves by cherrystreet 32k

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

☆ play the odds by alivingfire 26k

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

[enchantedamusedslightlyconfused]

73 questions.

I was tagged by @wescoasts @machine-gun-casie (BABES)

Almost all my friends have been tagged and I don't wanna be that asshole so ill try not to be. I tag @awkwardrocker @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @trixiehoe @she-who-is-timey-wimey

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

Well it’s finals week so about -864. After that I have two weeks of legitimate nothing where I will bake my heart out so we’ll see

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

#yikes #ughshesinherfeelsagain 

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Milo Ventimiglia, Kells, Rook.....being a music video love interest is only my life’s pipe dream 

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

And that’s on daddy issues and no supervision...

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

I used to model like went to modeling school and got paid for it type shit

What’s your wakeup ritual?

get woken up by my dog tired of hearing my alarm, walk said opinionated quadruped, feed quadruped, get dressed, COFFEE, then take life as it comes

What’s your go to bed ritual?

melatonin gummies (gotta make anxiety fun), skincare when executive dysfunction will allow, brush teeth, fight dog for my spot in bed (moving a 90lb animal is no joke), turn on my sleep playlist or use my ambient noise app, stare at ceiling

What’s your favorite time of day?

witching hour followed by golden hour

Your go to for having a good laugh?

lately tiktok and Kellyvisions, previously vine compilations or Netflix specials

Dream country to visit?

Ireland. I NEED to go to the motherland. My families castle is still standing and I get in for free. its on my bucket list FOR SURE. 

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

getting into nursing school and chiropractic school. I’m a loser and I’ve never had a surprise party. I’d melt in puddle of love tbh

Heels or flats/sneakers?

Flats 98% of the time. Heels are reserved for business casual necessity, Halloween, or if I’m feeling myself 

Vintage or new?

both, depends on the item

Who do you want to write your obituary?

Amy-Sherman Palladino 

Style icon?

lmao a what? on the real though catch me fucking with those eco-friendly kitchen witch vibes. All the dainty jewelry, linens and converse/docks fam

What are three things you can’t live without?

my dog, my family (found and blood), healing people however I can (medicine ruined me for any other career and its sucks you guys)

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

tbh salt, I question a recipes validity if salt isn't involved 

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

Kells and the band (I'd be too nervous for a one on one), a dinner party with my MGK fam, Elvis

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Failure, not accomplishing anything 

Window or aisle seat?

window all day everyday, on the wing preferably cause I like to feel the landing gear #pilotsgranddaughter 

What’s your current TV obsession?

Roadies forever, pry that series from my cold dead hands (also Gilmore Girls and Criminal Minds)

Favorite app?

tie between Tumblr and Pinterest (im an aesthetic slut)

Secret talent?

I am bomb at disney princess songs, the girls I babysit for treat me like a jukebox at bedtime, cutest thing ever

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

delivered a baby has hands down been the coolest thing I’ve ever done

How would you define yourself in three words?

I fucking hate this question. always have. empathetic, resilient, intuitive 

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

overall: my senior prom dress. its emerald green, backless, with a slit to upper thigh chefs kiss 

everyday wear: Colorado sweatshirt

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

I second Jude: over sized hoodies

Superpower you would want?

nonspecific healing powers so they aren't limited to physical ailments

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

Colson

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

HA. probably that the body remembers more about trauma than the mind and your seemingly irrational physical reactions to things are your brain’s attempt to protect you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

his mistake does not define your worth. I went for a variant of these boys aint shit don't judge me cause she needs to hear it

A book that everyone should read?

Harry Potter series (yes the whole thing), Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Giver by Lois Lowry 

What would you like to be remembered for?

empathy, the way I made people feel

How do you define beauty?

FOR THE LAST TIME ITS SUBJECTIVE, things that give you peace, it could be a song, a person, a sunset, a scone, a leaf. If it makes you stop a second and exhale then its beautiful to you

What do you love most about your body?

holy trigger question Batman...my eyes, my hair color, texture, and its ability to grow

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

drive with the windows down and blast music while singing at the top of my lungs

Favorite place to view art?

unexpected places, like street corners, carnivals, just somewhere it takes you off guard and makes you stop and pay attention

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

it’d be one of those crazy long 2000s fall out boy titles for sure, subject matter yet to be determined 

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

violin hands down, it hits me different

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

I have a bunch planned, plane on my right shoulder, Kells related between 3rd and 4th ribs (maybe lower in case I ever need a chest tube), watercolor portrait of my dog at some point location TBD

Dolphins or koalas?

dolphins are stoners and they're super smart, but koalas cause they’re grumpy af and honestly same

What’s your spirit animal?

again Jude and I are vibin: I've been identifying with a phoenix as of late. according to pottermore im a greyhound though (yes a patrons is a wizarding spirit animal. fight me)

Best gift you’ve ever received?

seven year old me was stoked to get a functional microscope and metal detector, I was in my egyptology/archeology phase, I still have them lmao

Best gift you’ve ever given?

oh hell idk...I made my cousin cry once cause I made cupcakes for her birthday party, they were cherry limeade flavored and had little straws and everything. that was pretty cool, granted she was seven. I also made my teacher cry cause I made sea salt caramel chocolate cupcakes for her going away party. I guess my baking brings people to tears

What’s your favourite board game?

candy land, battleship, cards against humanity even though there isn't a board

What’s your favourite colour?

forest green atm

Least favourite colour?

bright yellow/orange, its offensive to my general The Dirt Mick Mars disposition

Diamonds or pearls?

pearls (actually opals though)

Drugstore makeup or designer?

not picky provided they are evironmentally friendly. I really like Besame Cosmetics though

Blow-dry or air-dry?

air-dry, I don't have the patience for blow drying

Pilates or yoga?

yoga

Coffee or tea?

COFFEE, im still learning to like tea

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

holy shit how much time do we have, my favorite weird word to say is fistula or omphalocele (they're medical conditions, don't goole it unless you have a strong stomach) 

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

dark chocolate

Stairs or elevator?

stairs 

Summer or winter?

neither FALL BITCHES   winter if I had to pick cause I love Christmas 

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

burgers

A desert you don’t like?

red velvet cake....just why is it a thing that exists 

A skill you’re working on mastering?

baking scones or shit that’s flaky in general 

Best thing to happen to you today?

being tagged to do this twice, I felt special for a hot second (thanks babes)

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

that I would make a good doctor (I handled a scary pt situation like a champ, they didn't know I threw up after I made sure my pt didn't die. puking in a foreign country on the download is a skill in and of itself)

Favorite smell?

bergamot, baking bread, baking spice cakes at Christmas

Hugs or kisses?

HUGS CAN SAVE THE WORLD

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

gifted kid fall off

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

In These Walls - Machine Gun Kelly

Casual Sabotage - Yungblud

genius assholes...

Lipstick or lip gloss?

lipstick for special occasions but actually tinted chapstick or lip stains 

Sweet or savoury?

savory to eat sweet to make for someone else

Girl crush?

Brittney Furlan Lee, Alexis Bledel, Lauren Graham 

How you know you’re in love?

you look at them and just say yep. them. usually while they're doing something stupid 

Song you can listen to on repeat?

imma out myself but Swing Life Away - Machine Gun Kelly

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

the grass is not greener ya’ll. id rather go back and relive days 

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

hopefully passing my first trimester of chiropractic school. fingers crossed pls

[xexilia]

I notice when you do your comics, it applies a certain level of toner. I ended up deciding on the route of using paint brush india ink, and charcoal for toner instead. Does this aesthetic difference change the marketability of graphic novel, compared to just using toner? In the context of the prologue in this web comic, it is used to denote a fog atmosphere. In the upcoming chapter, I might use it for graveyard fog.

I think first I need to establish that what you mean by “toner” is “shading”?

I do use tones, but tonER is the stuff used in and by physical printers. Print tones refer to the dots, lines, etc. that are present in the majority of my work and that Roy Lichtenstein emulated in his paintings. Tones are dots because that’s how printers print; Thousands of dots. The closer together, the more solid the shade or color is. I’m not trying to correct you on terms, but knowing this difference will help you later because I promise, if you buy toner online and expect to get tones, you’ll be disappointed by what arrives in the mail!

So, I think you’re falling into a common trap webcomic artists make in the beginning, which is focusing on the wrong parts of the project. You asked me if this changes marketability; But you didn’t tell me:

What medium do you want to publish in? Do you want to ONLY have your comics online, or do you want to print them?

Who is your target audience and age group?

Do you want to sell or profit off your webcomic?

The first question is important because far too often, webcomic artists design for the web/screens first, foremost, and only; Later, they decide to print a book, and this is when all hell breaks loose. Lots of media (Charcole, watercolors, etc.—media is the art term for materials) can look both better OR WORSE on a screen—this is where technology comes into play, like the scanner you have, the DPI (dots per inch) its able to scan things in at, and the size of scannable area. A lot of my favorite media and mediums (I like pencil on paper), are really delicate drawings—and like a lot of artists who favor these materials, scanners just never seem to do them justice. Lots of fine artists I talk to admit that they feel their work looks best in person, and no matter how high the quality scanner, small, delicate details get lost. Part of it can be a cheap scanner, the wrong DPI setting, but the other part can be the wrong medium (That’s the term for things like canvas or paper), or the wrong SIZE medium.

Size matters; Both in terms of the scanner surface area AND the size of your medium. A lot of people (And I did this myself for a lot of the first book), work on standard size paper—8.5 by 11 inches; But professional artists, print or not, are always better off to work at a LARGER size than the end result will be. When I printed my book, I didn’t come out too terribly for the size I worked in, because manga book page sizes are smaller than their American counter parts. I also knew I planned to print from the first page onward, so everything was designed for print first and web second—this is much easier and less time consuming to do than the reverse, because a lot of print errors can occur that don’t appear on screens—and literally can’t—and can take hours, days, weeks or more to fix, depending on how bad and common the issue is and how many of your pages have this problem. A big one is called moire, which DOES NOT show up on screens; This happens when an artist applies on tone directly over another. Because most of us work digitally these days, it’s even easier for artists to start doing this and not realize the consequence until you print a book. . .and discover all places where tones overlap create this weird square pattern within them—which is called moire. This is why it’s critical to use separate tones for different shades and such, because unlike solid color printing, you cannot overlay tones like you would layers in Photoshop or other such programs. Ignore this at your peril!

My first suggestion before you go to far is; Of you want to ever, EVER print this, print out a copy of a page at home. Even if you’re happy with it, consider how you may be printing or mass producing these things; If you’re going to make them via a copier at Kinko’s, take a page down to a copier at Kinko’s and see what quality you get. If you don’t like it at full size to the ratio you worked in (In other words, printing on the same size paper you created it on), you can get some improvement by using smaller pages—but going UP in page size will cause quality to drop. I now work on paper—digital or not—that’s always 11 by 17 inches AT LEAST. For anything I make, I try to work in a size 3 to 4 times larger than the end result will be.

When I first began, I made my comics with a copier at Kinko’s, and discovered while my ink wash method looked good, it looked better with color printing; Color printing is ALWAYS more expensive, hence why when digital comic creation tools (Like Clip Studio) got invented, I was an instant convert! It saved a lot of time and money (Tones and such are all expensive), the environment (No trees died for my drawings), effort (Tones are REALLY tricky to work with by hand), and it’s no wonder that manga artists now are nearly ALL working digitally.

Also, for the disabled (Like me), digital allows us to work from beds, at home, etc. instead of in front of a desk, all hunched over. I don’t accidentally smudge ink, my cat doesn’t drink my ink (Yes, it’s a thing cats do!), and if I mess up, the power of Undo/Redo/Copy/Paste/Transform CANNOT be understated. I’ve mentioned it before, but I believe in working smarter, NOT harder. This is why I draw out a lot of backgrounds (Which you can’t see on the free copies online, but you can if you buy a physical copy or the Amazon eBook), separately, and I can just drag and drop them around as I need. That way, I can focus on drawing the characters and not on drawing a giant cathedral for every damn appearance it makes or scene change I do.

As for marketability; A lot of this depends on your target audience and age group. Even so, people tend to grow to like something even if it may be atypical of the general stuff they like. I’m generally not a fan of shoujo-ai—but many of my favorite anime and manga ARE in this genre! Turns out, if the story is good, I don’t care about the sexuality of the characters!

A lot of people expect or want color comics these days though, which is odd to me, since the manga produced in Japan is in black and white (Color printing is expensive—even for a major publishing company!) People still read it, and those who expect an artist to make a free webcomic with color pages and update several times a week or month aren’t aware of the time, effort, or consequences. Generally; No, they will NOT buy a book they’ve read for free online (As much as people love to say to support us creators, they rarely actually do), and they damn sure won’t pay for the extra cost of color printing. If you want to see the difference, check out Ka-Blam comic printers and do a price comparison between printing pages in color versus black and white.

Yes, there are people who do a Kickstarter and such and get these funds up front; They are exceptions, not the rules. Consider them—and most artists who make comics or art they make of their own choosing (Not commissions, but only originals), the same as you might someone who plays a sport and decides that they are GOING to play professionally for some orginazation or team—which is, they are counting on being in this LESS THAN 1% of their field. Yes, some people pull it off; The vast majority don’t—and skill isn’t the biggest factor in the end. Just like an athlete with all the promise in the world can have their career ended before it’s begun by an injury that never heals right, art itself is a career path with MANY hidden pitfalls and problems—and health is a major one. Too many of us don’t eat right, don’t exercise our bodies and minds, and so on; It adds up. I personally really recommend a diet with a caloric/carb intake ratio that works within your activity levels; In other words, if you’re determined not to work out (Which—don’t make this mistake), you can’t eat as much as you’d like—not only will you gain weight, but it impacts your health health, your blood sugar—it can be a recipe for an early, but preventable, grave or a LOT of suffering that could be avoided. I try to jog at least two miles a day, meditate daily, and really put my health as the main focus in my life—even before my art. I can’t draw anything or write more stories if I’m dead, after all, and I can’t produce my best work if I’m not in the best condition I can manage. With an autoimmune disease, there’s only so much I can do or control and I’m often still very sick and in a lot of pain; But I still do all I can to run or walk two miles—at least, and even if it takes me an hour or more—and to keep my heart rate at 120 beats per min. when I do. There’s a lot of days where this is about the ONLY thing I can manage and where my pain is so bad I cry and cry—because right now I don’t have a lot of means of relief; This doesn’t happen to everyone, but it means that health—no matter what you do in life—can make or break you at times. Audiences aren’t always understanding of these circumstances and yes, ones career can dry up as a result. Just because someone manages to play for the sports team of their dreams doesn’t mean their health can’t or won’t turn on them, or a serious injury will end their career; We do not live in a world where people will continue to support you because of a series of or singular unfortunate event.

This brings me to the last point, which is if you plan to sell or profit off your work; We all want to, but often making sales can come at the cost of producing something that we, as the creators, really love or are passionate about. I decided from the jump that, while profiting was nice, I’d much rather make the title I wanted to make rather than the one that sells the most copies; If I were concerned with it, trust me, Eternity Concepts would be a wildly different story, with different art, etc. I’d have written a formulaic story that was entirely predictable and changed so many aspects, you’d never recognize it; Manga fans tend to be teens, so I’d have made the cast all teenagers! It’d be set in school! Someone might magically transform to fight evil or some such thing.

I didn’t want that; If you do, there’s no shame in that, but audiences will keep buying and reading what we keep producing, and if we’re too afraid to take a risk on a chance that our story won’t make a dime—because making a dime is the most important part for you—then we can’t be surprised when it’s what people keep buying—because we aren’t even attempting to sell anything else.

Publishing houses (With novels and such) can be really guilty of pushing for changes based on market research; The thing is, the research is often based off past sales of what’s already in the market. Plenty of novels that became classics and best sellers got rejected for years and years until a publishing company was willing to take a chance and discovered that people can, will, and do enjoy new and different things. They might also do market focus group testing—but these are small sample sizes of average people—and your audience may NOT be average people.

All creative pursuits involve risks, at the end of the day; You just have to decide what rewards you want or are willing to sacrifice if you take them.

As for aesthetics, there’s no accounting for taste and I’ve seen plenty of paintings I hated sell for insane amounts of money, plenty of art styles I hated become popular titles, etc.

I will say this; When I, PERSONALLY, see a comic with tones or color, usually that’s digitally produced (It cuts out the need for a scanner!), it looks to me like it’s professionally made—by someone who is on their way or already at such a level.

While a lot of newer artists try to make do with other materials, again, the world is not a kind place and making do is just that—making do. Yes, there are a million and one reasons why one can’t get their hands on better or more professional materials—but sadly, people don’t want to hear excuses, and many successful artists got their tools by working jobs they hated, saving up, living in their cars—making major sacrifices to get to where they are now. There’s no easy road or shortcuts to the end; Yes, I do, sadly, think the mixed media approach you’re trying won’t be favorable towards your marketability—but I could always be wrong (Look at how many MS Paint comics made it big!) There’s a first time for everything.

Comics, though, is also about production speed, and traditional materials can come at the cost of working quicker. I’m a big fan of suggesting people save and wait and invest (And it IS an investment) in serious materials and tools if they wish to be seen and taken as seriously; This means making sacrifices and at the end of the day, plenty of people still won’t like what you make, no matter what tools you have or plot you employ. The person who NEEDS to like it most? . . .Is only you.

You cannot please all of the people all of the time, and the faster you accept that, the happier you’ll be with what you make.