#even though i’ll probably keep watching it and bitching until the bitter end

[jaimeslanisters]

so do you have any thoughts about Aemond's scenes in the latest episode?

i do! thank you for asking!

under the cut because, per usual, got carried away with my yapping

so to start with the major scene that i’m sure this ask is mainly about, i’m actually a fan of them exploring his trauma response to luke’s death being seeking out a source of comfort no matter how twisted and warped it is for him. as fucked up as it is, it makes sense that he seeks out the brothel owner who sa’d him as a child since that’s an “easy” way to comfort. she won’t ask him any hard questions about storm’s end. she won’t tell him anything he won’t want to hear. he doesn’t want alicent’s resentment at him for destroying their only chance at peace. he doesn’t want aegon treating it as a massive joke. he wants someone to hold him and tell him “you’ve grown. you’re not that little bullied boy anymore.” and, as disturbing as it is, the brothel owner fits that perfectly. he doesn’t have anyone else to seek out and so he turns to his first sexual interaction, one that was transactional in nature because he gets some semblance of control with it

i don’t agree with takes that his seeking comfort with the brothel owner is oedipal in nature. i kind of don’t even think their relationship is sexual in nature. of course, future episodes could prove me wrong here but i think him being stripped down is more him freeing himself from reminders of his position and role rather than he’s having sex with her. him having sex with her is so straightforward for this when i feel like this is so wrapped up in self loathing and low self esteem

now….. i’m disappointed with the rest of the episode. i enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong. i enjoyed it way more than the first episode. but i think there needed to be more. maybe i’ll never be satisfied but like….. where was the funeral? and where was everyone attending it? i can buy aegon not going out of grief/preferring to beat blood’s brains out but i don’t buy otto encouraging him not to go. if helaena could inspire the masses to see her as a grief stricken queen ala princess diana, could aegon’s rage not similarly whip up the smallfolk? likewise, did aemond just…. not go? jaehaerys was his nephew, his sister’s life was threatened, and we don’t get to see how he reacts to that? we don’t get to see his guilt and his grief and his horror?

as the in house pr manager, otto should have paraded all of the targtowers out. hell, he should have called up daeron and added one more pretty, heartbroken targaryen for the masses to get parasocially attached to. but that’s humanizing the greens so i guess that’s not allowed.

i fear that hotd is running into the exact same problems that got faced in its final seasons, mainly refusing to allow any time for the plot or the characters to breathe. ten episodes is honestly far too short for asoiaf but it still gave us time to hit the major points and get to see the characters in moments where they’re not propelling the plot forward and are instead introspective. they’re interacting with one another and facing the interpersonal consequences of what they inflict on other people. s1 of hotd sped through the years and as a result, the tragedy of the dance of dragons being a house cannibalizing themselves is lost bc the blacks and the greens feel like entirely two separate houses rather than deeply intertwined branches of one.

so i enjoy the general bones of what’s been presented. there’s nothing that i hate completely (aside from alicent’s plotline which while i’m not against alicole on principle, i’m against how it was just tossed at us without showing us how it started considering what a big deal it is for both characters. also not super big into the depictions of her and her complicated relationship with motherhood but that might just be me) but i just wish the writers were more willing to slow down and explore each team on equal grounds

big big fan of aemond’s sherlock holmes era tho ☝🏼 observant king

[esamastation]

Roy doesn't know exactly when the new alchemist joins them on the field.

It's a bad time - they're establishing a new camp in the town and the area is under constant assault, it seems. Small strikes on all sides, seemingly from nowhere, taking out a man there, another there, crippling a truck, taking out a road… The Ishvalans are using some sort of network of tunnels, the brass thinks, and it's Roy's job to smoke them out. So that's what he's been doing, seemingly all week… smoking out the supposed tunnels.

There are no tunnels, though. The Ishvalans are just getting desperate and in their desperation they're figuring out new methods. They have home field advantage and new tricks of camouflaging themselves in the rubble that used to be their home. Ruins of a people, blending in the ruins the Amestrians had made of their houses. They're learning to live with it, to work with it, because it's all they have - and they're getting good because they have little choice in the matter.

No one is listening to Roy when he points it out, though. There's a dismissiveness to the higher ups, when it comes to the evolution of Ishvalan tactics. "What are they doing now, praying for better guns?" As though this war, hasn't already gone on three times as long as originally projected.

Roy is thinking about it, staring at a crooked, unlit cigarette someone had put into his shaking hands, when he's introduced to the new alchemist.

"Good news, Mustang," Hughes says, with absolutely no joy in his cheerful smile, and less so in his cheerful voice. It sounds like he's chewing charcoal. "You're getting partner."

Roy looks up, his mind still in the meeting room, thinking about numbers on a map, how they didn't quite capture the reality of charred skeletons. It takes a moment for what he sees in front of him to sink in.

Another blue uniform, still pressed sharp and bright new under the beige overcoat that's supposed to protect it and it's wearer from the dust and heat of Ishval. What stands before him isn't a soldier though - it's barely a man. It's a short blond boy, no older than sixteen at most, with heavy non-regulation boots and silver watch chain at his hip.

The horror and disgust that wells up it's barely a blip before it's smothered under, oh, of course, and shit, are we here already? Then Roy stands up, puts the unlit cigarette away and holds out his right hand.

"Major Roy Mustang - the Flame Alchemist."

The blond boy smiles, crooked and sharp and just as mirthless as Hughes beside him. "Nick Flamel - the Fullmetal Alchemist." His grip is tight and brief, his hand gloved.

He'd be the newest youngest State Alchemist then. Roy had heard his record had been beaten, though he hadn't really paid attention to who or how.

Hughes looks between them and for a moment his eyes show a certain desperation. Then he covers it up and pats Flamel's shoulder. "Fullmetal here is stationed under you until he gets a hang of things - you'll show him the ropes, teach him what's what."

Keep him alive, is what Hughes' eyes say, and no wonder. Being as young as he is, the kid can't have much in the way of training. Alchemists don't need to go through basic, after all - they're not there to march or shoot guns or stand in lines. Flamel had probably just gotten his watch, his uniform, and a one way ticket to Ishval. To one of the worst, most contested zones at that. Shit.

Did the brass send the kid here to die?

"What's your specialty - metallurgical transmutation?" Roy asks.

"I don't have a speciality, really," Flamel says and pushes his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. It doesn't quite fit him right - too wide across shoulders, a bit too long. They'd either left some growing room, or they just didn't have a uniform small enough. "But I'm damn good at environmental alchemy, which I figure is what I'll be doing the most around here."

Roy blinks. "Environmental alchemy," he repeats.

"I can make the battleground my bitch," Flamel says, his crooked smile sharpening.

And abruptly Roy is already exhausted with the kid. He's one of those, then, a cocky little sumbitch, top of his class and talk of the town, so used to being the top dog of his little bubble that he has no concept of what the real world is like outside that little bubble. Guys like him come swaggering in all the time, all big talk and smug grins, so sure they're going to be carrying their little superiority complexes spotlessly over the finish line that they walk into the first fucking landmine that comes across.

Roy sees himself holding the kid's hand after he gets gunned down, still thinking himself invulnerable, and it's exhausting.

"What?" Flamel asks, suspicious at his silence.

Hughes, giving the kid the exact same look Roy must be, clears his throat. "How about you show us?" he suggests. "So we'll have an idea what we're working with here."

Flamel arches a brow at that and then looks around, light brown - or are they burnished gold? - eyes narrowing in thought.

Their camp is still a mess from the last attack - they're fixing the fences and filling the holes in the road that got busted in the smattering of mortar fire from two days ago. The perimeter is more secure now, for a given value of secure. They'd chosen the highest spot in the town, the temple mount, to give them a high vantage point - better than being penned into a valley. It leaves them pretty damn open though.

Flamel looks over the houses they'd taken over, the tents pitched in the streets and the flag of Amestris hung over the prayer hall, and clicks his tongue. Then he claps his hands together, and crouches down.

For a split of a second, barely a blink, it looks like he's praying.

Then he slaps his hands on the street beneath their feet - and in a crackle of alchemical energy and rumble of displaced earth, the street reforms. The dirt flattens, grows perfect paving stones, shifts to form neat walkways on the sides, even forming gutters. Between one breath and the next, they have a perfect Amestrian city street, formed from the dust of Ishval, surrounded by Ishvalan buildings.

While the soldiers on the newly reformed street let out shouts of shock, Roy just stares, his mind trying to jump hoops figuring out how the kid just did that. Circles in his skin, under his sleeves, inside his gloves…?

Hughes whistles, hiding his wild eyes in a squint. "Nice. You know, it doesn't rain much around here," he comments.

"So?" Flamel asks.

"The gutters aren't really necessary."

Flamel looks at the street he'd made, hands resting on his hips, and shrugs. "Eh, can't hurt," he says and motions at the street. "Anyway, imagine that, but spikes instead of paving stones."

Roy swallows and looks at the kid, who's just standing there, seemingly in no way bothered. Fullmetal doesn't look smug or proud of what he'd done, only grinning a little bit at the way the soldiers throw away their shovels, no longer needed. If this isn't something for the him to even brag about, then…

Roy has in his head an image of the kid doing a field of spikes under a charging assault force, eviscerating people by the dozens, and it's clearly not Flamel's only trick. It's probably not even in his top five.

Fuck, the kid would end up with a three digit death toll by his first engagement.

"Right," Roy says. He isn't sure what his face is doing but going Hughes' expression, it's probably not good. "You can make gutters. How about trenches?"

Flamel grins, his eyes like molten metal. "Try me."

-

By the end of the week - no, by the end of the day their camp is hugely improved by Flamel. The fence is turned into a solid stone wall, constructed within minutes from the remains of bombed out houses. Another pile of rubble is turned into a watch tower. They have trenches, they have pits, Flamel even adds a moat and spikes around the camp, like they're in an ancient fortress or something. Hell, there's even gargoyles in the corners of the wall.

They go from one of the least secure camps to one of the most heavily fortified seemingly overnight. It's a huge boost to troop morale - not so for Roy's sanity. Flamel doesn't even look winded by the end of his improvements.

"How are you doing the circles?" Roy asks finally - bit of a social Faux Pas among alchemists, especially military alchemists, but he has to ask. Flamel made entire buildings, and he hadn't stopped to draw a single sigil.

"In my head," Flamel says, shrugging. Like that makes any sense.

Roy looks at him and then at the changes he's made, and can't say it's impossible - he can see the results with his own eyes. And they're more than impressive, they're…

Flamel isn't going to be here long, he realises. Whether the brass send the kid here to get rid of him or not, the moment word about Flamel's real abilities spread, he'd be snagged by the first general with any fucking sense. The kid's a powerhouse. Roy is too, of course, that's why he's here - but Fullmetal is a different kind of powerhouse. Just by himself, he would be able to establish a secure foothold in the middle of enemy territory and that's not someone you just let sit idle.

Roy looks at the kid and feels torn between feeling sorry, jealous and a little bit bitter. If only he was a bit higher in rank, he could keep Flamel and make a full use his abilities - and maybe keep him from becoming a mass murderer in the process.

"What was your exam like?" Roy asks. There's no way the kid showed even a fraction of these abilities, he wouldn't be here at all if he had. "How'd you end up with a name like Fullmetal?" From what he'd seen something like Earth Moving or Groundbreaking would've been more apt.

"I made a spear in my exam," Flamel says, not looking at him. "And pointed it at Bradley."

"... And they didn't arrest you?"

Flamel smirks a little and looks at him. "What did you do?" he asks. "I bet you scorched something."

Roy had. He'd been welcomed in on the spot. "Training dummies," he agrees, giving him a pointed look. "Because I don't have a death wish."

Flamel shrugs. "It got me what I wanted," he says and stretches his arms. "So, what comes next?"

Roy looks at their newly secure camp. "Depends on the Colonel, but I bet you'll be doing more road work. We need a clear path in and out of the town."

Even though the town is officially theirs, that doesn't stop the guerilla attacks - but now, with a secure camp, all they needed was a clear path for troops to move in and then it'd be only a matter of time. If the two of them weren't already reassigned by then, they'd be after the supply line was secure. Alchemists weren't wasted in safe stations.

"But that's tomorrow's problem," Roy decides. "Come in, kid - let's get something to eat."

- - -

Nostalgia is doing rounds in my brain.

[justkending]

Moral of The Story. Chapter One.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of an old love all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Ok, here is the first chapter! If you have not already listened to the song that evoked this idea from my imagination land, I suggest giving it a go! Moral of the Story by Ashe. I’m excited for you guys to see what this story brings and I really hope I do it justice! As always, comments and thoughts are welcome as they help me grow as a writer and let me see what you guys notice:) ENJOY MY LOVES!!! <3

(The posting will be once every other day until I have finished the series. If I finish early, I will post an update once a day:)

Read the Prologue here first!

Chapter One:

"You already got the flight?" Nat asked, perched on Y/N's couch as she ran around frantically packing. "Don't you have a huge meeting next week with that new business? What was it called? Bee's Knees?"

"Yes, but it's not until Monday evening. I highly doubt I will be there longer than a weekend to sign a few divorce papers. I'm planning on coming back early that afternoon, so I shouldn't miss it," she answered, not even stopping to look at her as she ran through the rooms and bathroom in the apartment.

"How soon did you book that flight?"

"As soon as I hung up the phone with Murdock," Y/N sighed. Nat sent her a questioning look not knowing that name. "New lawyer. The guy who took over for the sleazeball known as Justin Hammer," she rolled her eyes.

"Right," Nat nodded. "So, are you staying at your dad's house?"

"I would take my dad's house over my mom and Jerry's any day. You know this," Y/N paused in her actions, sending her a bitch face.

"I know. Just didn't know if you'd be all fancy and rent a hotel room to escape the smothering that is bound to happen from good ol' Mr. Y/L/N," Nat grinned.

"It's been so long since I've seen him not via facetime. And we both know that's barely seeing him as he doesn't know where the camera is even after a hundred calls," she laughed.

"Parents. Either they're technologically challenged or know how to work it better than us. Never in between and it's weird." Nat watched as Y/N froze in her stance and looked lost trying to think of something else to pack. Deciding she needed a distraction, Nat changed the subject some. "Hey, did you get Melody to go on that date tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Y/N answered proudly. "I know your aunt wants grandbabies from her daughter, but that girl just needs a night on the town more than anything. She's in her early 20's and holes herself up at the office almost more than I do, and I'm the boss."

"Cousin's got my work ethic. What can I say?" Nat shrugged smugly.

"Well, she needs to get your spirit in living some too."

"Touche," Nat pointed. "I need to have Yelena take her out. She's the real party sister out of us two."

"That is true. How she's able to party for 48 hours straight and still wake up at 8 am for mimosas, blows my mind," Y/N commented on Natasha's younger sister. "She's only a few years older than Melody, right?"

"Yeah, Yelena is 24, and Melody is 22. They were best of friends growing up, but once they got to high school, they kinda went different routes about life. Lana, the party gal, and Mel the studious bookworm."

"I'm not surprised by either of those," Y/N shook her head before collapsing next to Nat on the couch. A loud breath and sigh escaped her body.

Nat watched as her mind escaped back to the original issue at hand.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Y/N/N?" she said, softly touching her shoulder. "Not that I don't already know, but maybe letting it out will help unscramble those thoughts."

Y/N lazily rolled her head to the redhead next to her.

"How is he?" she asked.

Nat was a part of their friend group from middle school through high school. She kept up with all of them still, whereas Y/N kept up with all of them except one.

"I actually haven't talked to him in a while. Steve on the other hand..." Nat nodded. "From that source, it sounds like Barnes is just as surprised and freaked out as you."

"He's freaked out?" Y/N asked, a hint of interest peeking out.

"Who wouldn't be? You get a call from a lawyer saying your marriage is still intact after 9 years of breaking it off, I would be freaked out too."

"He deserves it. I hope he's just as freaked out as me, if not more," she responded bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest like a pouting child.

"Y/N," Nat sighed.

"No. Don't. Don't defend him to me, it's pointless," she put up a hand. "I know you're still friends with him, but you guys still don't understand the pain that that man brought on me."

"He fought for you, Y/N. He didn't mean-," Nat countered.

"Again, you're wasting your breath. Defending him now does nothing to change the past," she said stubbornly, getting back up and carrying on with her packing. "You can still take me to the airport tomorrow, right?"

Her best friend wanted to keep pushing, knowing she had harbored this heartbreak for too long. Sure what had happened between them sucked and was a horrible chapter of their lives, but neither made an effort to talk it out and understand the other's side of the story. Faults of being young, immature, and not knowing how to handle a grown-up decision.

"Yes, I'll pick you up at work at 10. Flights at 11:25, right?"

"Yes, and you know California traffic. That will probably get me there 10 minutes before my gate closes. I had to get an early flight though because that time difference is going to kick my ass. It'll be close to 5:30 in my head and 8:30 there by the time I land... " Y/N huffed, rolling her bag to the front door for tomorrow. "You mind taking this tonight and keeping it in your car for now? That way I don't have to lug it to work?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll grab it on my way out. But we're still having a girl's night, right?"

Y/N laughed some before going to the kitchen to grab beers. "I Survived is already recorded and ready for us."

___________________

"Shit man... When's the last time you talked to her?" Steve asked, sitting across from his best friend in the chair diagonal from the couch, leaning forward on his knees after listening to the new news.

"Since I was supposedly signing our divorce papers. And even then, we didn't really talk. She sat there quietly straight-faced until it was signed and then rushed out the doors," Bucky sighed, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. "She was out of the state within the next hour."

Steve nodded before falling back into the single seat.

"So, do you guys have to see each other again, or is it one of those situations where you can sign separately?"

"I don't know. I just got off the phone. All I know up to this second is that Y/N and I have been married for the past 9 years without knowing it," Bucky said somewhat harshly. Steve didn't flinch at the tone knowing it wasn't directed at him. "I'm sorry. I-I just can't wrap my mind around this."

"It's ok. This is crazy shit, Buck," Steve waved off. There was a long pause before Steve decided to ask the question he was sure anyone would want to know. "Do you want to see her?"

Bucky slowly looked over to the blonde. God, he had been asking himself that question for the past 10 minutes himself.

On one end, yes. He wondered where she was now in life. How she was doing. What accomplishments he knew she would be making. He knew a few small things just by the whispers and small talk of her with their shared friend group that he still hung out with, but a majority of the time, they didn't bring her up around him. They knew what it did to him.

On the other end, he never thought about facing her again. I mean maybe for the year after their divorce, but when he never heard anything back from her all those times he still tried to reach out and she blocked him on almost all forms of social media, he gave up any hope of them falling back into good terms again. He hated it, but he wasn't going to push her when she clearly hated his guts.

And honestly, he deserved it. His young, stupid, college self was not a smart guy when it came to relationships. Even ones that had been there from the beginning of time practically.

Yet again, she wasn't perfect either. She made some mistakes of her own that pushed him to act the way he had.

"Hey, you both are older and more mature now. I'm sure you if you guys do have to see each other again, you can handle it like adults," Steve reassured, seeing Bucky's face turn to a soft frown. "Ok, so she may be a little stubborn..."

"A little?"

"Ok, a lot. But she's older now. She's not the 19-year-old girl that you remember," Steve defended.

"I believe that but I'm sure she still holds a grudge that is very, very, very, very-," Bucky was going to go on about 10 more very's before ending with BIG, but Steve cut him off.

"You don't know that," Steve shook his head.

"Really? Because usually when you no longer hold a grudge against someone, you might just reach out to that person and reconnect possibly," Bucky argued. "I mean that's what mature people do, right?"

"Not always..."

"So she's either not mature or still just as stubborn. Hell, for all we know, both," Bucky shrugged, pursing his lips.

"If you go into this with that mindset, nothing good is going to come out of it." Steve pointed an eyebrow at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes not replying to Steve. He knew he was right, but he was still bitter after all these years about how Y/N handled the situation. Sure, he messed up, but she had to. Yet she made him into this big bad wolf that was at 100% fault in the downfall of their relationship. It made him feel like shit, and though he tried to make amends knowing he did some fucked up things, she acted like she was Miss Perfect and didn't do anything wrong the entire time.

Damn, even after all this time, it still lit a fire in his chest with annoyance and hurt.

"When's the meeting?" Steve once again interrupted his thoughts.

"I guess Saturday morning. They said they were coming in on their off hours to fix up a few cases they found like ours," Bucky answered.

"How many cases were there?"

"Eh, I think he said it was single digits, but there were a shit ton of other cases in different areas that were worse off. The divorce ones are a small number compared to those."

"Damn. That sucks for all the couples who got a call today then," Steve huffed, running a hand down his face.

"Yeah, you're telling me..."

"Hey, we were going out with Wanda and Vis tonight. You still up for that, or...?" Steve stood up.

Bucky looked back at the beer on the coffee table and then at the TV still playing I Survived stories quietly in the background.

"You know what? I'm going to need a stronger drink than an IPA to get me to sleep tonight," Bucky nodded, standing and wiping his hands on his jeans before walking to his room.

"Looks like I'm the DD tonight then..." Steve sighed.

___________

"Vis," Wanda motioned to her fiance as he came back from the bar. "Nat just texted."

"About what? How is she?" Vis smiled as he sat next to her with Sam across from him. Sam tagged along at the last second since his other plans got canceled.

"She's good, but it's not about her," Wanda waved off, still reading whatever lengthy text was sent her way.

"Wow, that looks like a novel," Vis noticed with wide eyes as he looked over her shoulder.

"Wait 'til you hear what it's about." 

Sam shook his head as he took a sip of the beer Vis had brought over.

After reading the rest of the text out loud from where she had left off, everyone at the table looked at each other with shock ridden faces.

"They're still married?" Vis said softly as if it was a secret.

"Apparently..." Wanda nodded with wide eyes.

"So that Hammer guy was a sham?" Sam questioned.

"I told her not to go to him. He had some shady hole in the wall kind of establishment," Wanda chided. "But she said they needed something cheap and fast. She hated his guts and wanted it out of it then and there. Plus, they were 19. They didn't have much money anyway."

"Why didn't they just ask their parents for help?" Sam questioned. "Isn't Y/N's mom loaded?"

"Yes, but she refused to help her. She said it was her own fault for getting married so young and that she had warned her. Told her she had to get out of the mess on her own," Wanda answered.

"What about her dad?" Vis jumped in.

"Bucky and her dad were close. She was off in Colorado for school and didn't want to put her dad through that or make him have to help her in cutting him off. Bucky was like the son he never had and they were bonded at the hip. No matter how much Y/N hated Bucky, she wasn't going to ruin or take away his relationship with her father. That would have been cruel, and Y/N is anything but that."

"Weren't Bucky's and Y/N's dad's best friends?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, they were old-time war buddies. They're the reason Bucky and Y/N had known each other since birth. But Bucky's dad died when he was about 13, and Y/N's dad, Thomas, kinda took him under his wing. Growing up a teenage boy without a father figure messes with you, and Bucky was on the edge of a bad path after losing his father."

"He's still rather close with Thomas, but I'm sure Y/N doesn't know that. Unless Thomas has said something, and with how everything came to an end for the two, I'm sure he doesn't bring it up knowing how tender of a subject Bucky is to her," Vis added.

"Makes sense..." Sam nodded. "I only knew you all from the start of college, so I'm still a little lost in all the beginning stuff."

"All good. It's complicated with those two. Their past and upbringing are so interconnected with the other, it makes their downfall all the more intense and messy," Wanda sighed. "God, if this is the news, he's going to be a wreck tonight..." She looked up worriedly at her fiance who shared the same concerns.

"It could go two ways. Either he comes in all solemn and says three words all night, or Steve's going to be the DD and he's waking up with a head-busting hangover," Sam noted with a small grin at the thought. "I'm going to go with the latter though."

"Poor guy," Wanda sighed, taking a drink with a sad face. Ever the sympathetic one.

"We'll be here to listen if he wants to talk. If not, we act like we have no idea and don't bring it up," Vision spoke up, throwing his arm over her and running his hand up and down her shoulder.

"I'm going to tease him still most likely," Sam shrugged nonchalantly. Wanda sent him a warning glare. "Fine, mama bear! I'll be nice... Until he starts making a fool of himself." He added the last part quietly.

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624 @leyannrae

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @pham-tastical

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose  @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk​ @princess-annna

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia

[supercorpkid]

You’re going to wish you were dead, instead.

Part 4 of T is for Trauma - The Series

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2370.

Warnings: kidnapping. Injuries. Next level angst.

Previously on the series – part 1, part 2, part 3

You open your eyes when someone kicks your stomach twice. You can’t control the vomit that comes right after, when your body finally understands that you’re up.

“Gross! Boss! The child threw up on my feet.” He walks away from you.

You want to appreciate that fact that you just did something to one of them, but everything hurts so much, like your skin is being peeled off of your body, that right now your only wish is that you could just die already so you don’t have to feel this unbearable pain anymore. Never in your worst nightmares, you’ve imagined you could feel so much pain you would wish you were dead instead.

“Stupid shit doesn’t die of over-exposure. It’s been hours! Maybe we should just shoot her, so she can bleed out to death.” One of them says and you pray they’re being serious.

“Please.” You plead. “End this.”

The boss kneels in front of you, with a creepy satisfied smile on his face. He looks behind him, to the other guys, and starts laughing like you just told the funniest joke in the world. His goons start laughing with him.

“I’m not going to end this. I wouldn’t want to stop all this fun you’re having!” He stands up, the same creepy smile still on his lips. “You know, you Kryptonians are funny. You act like Gods deciding everyone’s fate with some kind of morality no one even knows if you actually have. So, you’re ok with putting us through pain, but you can’t take any?”

“They are some weak Gods.” One of his henchmen says, and he looks back like he is telling him to shut up.

“Your world exploded for a reason. No kryptonian was supposed to survive. But then Supergirl and Superman came to Earth. Now, they are here dictating rules, expecting everyone to follow them. Who do they think they are? Those cockroaches.” He spits on the floor next to you, and you feel saliva hitting your face. “They’re not even supposed to exist, let alone procreate.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You whimper, and he gives his maniac laughter again.

“I’ll do you a solid though, just because you’re just a little kid.” He raises a hand and quickly one of his goons puts a gun in his hand. He points at your leg. “I’ll make a little hole, to accelerate your dying process, ‘kay?” And he shoots your leg.

You scream as loud as you can, with all the strength still left in you. You thought you were already in so much pain because of the kryptonite, that this wouldn���t add up and you wouldn’t feel any more. You were wrong. The pain piled up on top of each other. So right now, the inside of your body is agonizing, your leg is burning and you’re bleeding out. Is this pain going to go on forever? It sure feels like it, because no matter how much you pray for it, you’re still not dead.

No, you’re not dead. You’re just lying there in your own vomit and blood, thinking about how much you want this nightmare to end, one way or another, when you hear gunshots. You close your eyes, thinking they’ve changed their minds and decided to shoot you multiple times to end your pain, but you don’t feel anything.

“Supergirl, I’ve been expecting you.” What? You open your eyes when you hear that. You can’t see her, the boss is in front of you with his body, but you get a glimpse of red and your heart beats faster. “As you can see, I have kryptonite and your daughter. Now, would you-”

“FUCK YOU!” She flies towards him with her closed fist, throwing him to the other side of the room. You can’t see him, but you know there’s no way he can recover fast from that. Kara kneels before you, and rips the chains with her hands, tossing the kryptonite to the other side of the room, like it doesn’t even affect her anymore. And if it does, it’s not as painful as seeing your situation.

You thought that once you were free of kryptonite, the pain would go away. It didn’t. Your body still feels like it is up in flames. Kara touches your face, you whimper. You can’t barely make up her face with your one functioning eye, but you see your pain reflected on her face.

She is still kneeling next to you, when she hears a noise coming from where she threw the guy. She blows her freeze breath, holding him back a little. Kara looks around, like she’s looking for something.

“I’ll be right back, my love. Ok? Momma is here.” She disappears right after, but comes back a few seconds later, hair blowing, and even though you didn’t see a thing, you know she just used her super speed.

“Mommy. I’m dying.” You whisper and Kara holds you up, carrying you in the most protective way she can.

“Shhh. You’re ok. Mommy is here. You’re ok.” Kara looks around again and you see aunt Alex going inside the room with the biggest gun you’ve ever seen. “He’s tied up in the corner.”

“J’onn and I got this. Take her to the DEO and put her under the sun light lamp, I’ll be there in a few.” Alex goes to the other side of the room, but you still can hear her. “Oh, you thought it was funny shooting my niece? I’ll show you funny!”

You don’t hear anything else. Kara is flying with you back to National City, and you look up to her. Hair flying in the wind, tears dropping from her eyes, she can’t take her eyes off you.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe, baby.” She gives you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Mommy, I’m dying.” You repeat very slowly, because you don’t have any strength left to speak, and you know Kara can hear you either way. And you need her to know. She needs to know you’re probably not going to make it.

“No, you’re not. You’re ok. We’re going home, ok? We’re almost there. Mommy is here with you and your mom is waiting for you. You’re ok, baby.” Kara is crying so hard you barely make out what she’s saying.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I love you.”

“I love you, little one. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.” She keeps repeating that until you close your eyes. You can finally let go, you said everything. She knows you’re sorry, she knows you love her. So, you stop fighting the inevitable.

You thought you would die. You wished you had died. But you’re still here. You hear voices and you feel hands on your body. Someone’s touching your leg, it hurts like a bitch. Someone is squeezing your hand, it’s reassuring. Someone’s kissing your forehead over and over again, it’s calming.

You keep waking up and blacking out. But you don’t think they know this, because you can’t talk, can’t open your eyes, can’t move your body. All you can do is feel pain.

“Baby, my baby. I know you can do this. You can come back to us, please, please. I love you so much, babygirl. You’re my everything.”

“Mom, why isn’t she up yet? It’s been days! You said she would be awake by now.”

“Jamie, I-I don’t… She will wake up, honey. Just give her time, she needs to rest.”

“No. No, mom. She’s supposed to be up by now! Bring her back! Do something!”

“I’ve done everything I can, Jam. Come on, honey. Let’s go. Come.”

“Alex, there must be something else we can do.”

“Kara, you know how much I want her back too, I just- I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands now.”

“I wish I could switch places with her.”

“I know, Kar. I know. Go home, you’ve been in here for days. Go see Lena. Go be with your wife.”

You keep wishing you were dead. But you don’t die, and you also don’t come back to life. You’re half alive, and that’s not enough for anyone.

“Hey, little one.” You hear softly, and your heart beats fast. For the first time you feel you have enough strength to do something. You need to let her know you’re still alive. “I brought donuts, and your homework again.”

You try to ask for food, because you’re starving, but you can’t talk.

“I’ve been doing your homework for the past two weeks, and I have to say, I don’t know how you do this. It’s so much stuff, and you still find time to work on your inventions, and go to trainings…”

Yep, your life’s not as easy as it seems.

“Oooh, want to have a laugh? Your teacher sent me your physics homework yesterday and I obviously didn’t know anything, so I asked your mom for help and guess what? Apparently, Lena doesn’t know everything. It took her ten minutes to solve a problem. It was freaking hilarious.”

It sounds hilarious. You wish you were there.

“Hey. Was that a little laugh?” Kara asks and you try to smile again so she can see it. “I’ll tell Lena you laughed at her. Wait, no. I can’t do that, she’ll have hope.” She breathes heavily and your heart shrinks. “Shoot, I’m crying on your homework again. Your teacher will start wondering.”

You want to wake up so badly. You don’t know why your body doesn’t obey you. You’ve been in this bed under the sun for two weeks apparently. Is your body ever going to respond?

“Hold me.” You beg, trying to make your voice come out. It feels like you’re stuck in those nightmares where you feel like you’re screaming, but no one around hears anything. “Please.”

“Alex said we can take you home, with the lights and all. I’m scared, because I know that here, you’re being watched by doctors, but-” You feel her hand stroking your face gently. “I want you to be comfortable, and I want to lay in bed with you all day. So, should I? Should I take you home?”

YES. Please. Do it. Please. All you want is to go home.

“Yeah. I know. We shouldn’t move you too much. We don’t know what’s going on inside you, right? Besides-” You feel Kara’s warmth next to you. “I can lay in here with you, even though Alex tells me not to. We don’t have to tell her, right?” You feel Kara’s arms around and your eyes water immediately. “Baby, are you crying? Did I- Did I hurt you?” She moves away. “ALEX! ALEX! SHE’S CRYING. DO SOMETHING.”

There’s a weird taste on your mouth. Metallic and bitter. You need to get out of this bed, you need to go back to your life. And you feel it has to be now, or it will be never.

You open your eyes, slowly. It’s hard, it’s like they were glued together. It’s all blurry and undefined. You just see bright yellow, but it’s the first time you’re seeing some color in a while so you can’t complain about it.

“Baby! Kara, Alex! She’s awake!” You hear Lena’s voice and you see black and white mixed with the yellow. It’s probably her hair and face, but you can’t know for sure. There are no shapes, just colors. “Baby, baby, it’s ok. Mom is here.” Lena kisses your face and you feel hands on your body. There’s a very strong hand holding yours, and you know it’s Kara, because she is holding so hard it hurts. And you feel Alex’s hands touching your pulsing points.

“Hey, little one. Can you say something?” Kara asks and you open your mouth.

“My bones.” You whisper so slowly it’s pretty much inaudible; you’re sure only Kara can hear you, and only because of her super hearing.

“Oh, oh, sorry.” She stops squeezing your hand and kisses it, gently. “I forgot about the loss of powers.”

Wait, what?

“Ok, you two move away, please.” Now you see red, mixed with the yellow. “Hey kiddo, this is aunt Alex. Listen I have to do a few tests with you, ok? If you can hear me perfectly, blink once.” You blink once. “Perfect. You’re doing really well. Now, if you can see me perfectly, blink once.” You don’t blink. “Oh, ok. Is it blurry?” You blink once. “Ok, don’t worry, it will go back to normal with time. Now, I want you to move your left leg, just a little. Can you do that for me?” You do it.

She then makes you move every part of your body, and slowly but surely you do all that she asks. You hear Kara and Lena’s celebrations next to you and you smile proud of yourself.

“Hey kiddo, that was perfect! Next time you wake up, you will feel a lot better. I promise you.” You feel a squeeze in your hand, and you give her a little smile. “I don’t want you to get tired, so you can go back to sleep now, and we’ll work more later ok?”

“Wait.” You whisper and she puts her ear close to your mouth so she can hear you. “Lena.”

“She wants you.”

Lena takes Alex’ spot, holding your hand and putting her ear close to your face so she can hear you better.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no baby, you don’t have anything to feel sorry for. Everything is alright. Listen.” You feel Lena wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You were right. I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re not the most important thing in the world for me, because you are. You are. Stop-stop worrying about it. Just use everything you have to recover, ok?” You nod weakly. “I love you.”

“We love you.” You hear Kara’s voice and you breathe deep.

“Mommy.” Your voice comes out a little stronger, but it is still just a whisper.

“Mommy is here, little one. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.” Kara says and you close your eyes again. Your body might still ache, but your heart doesn’t ache anymore.

[gojoscloset]

Damaged goods

Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader Pt. 1

Suna confesses to reader who still dwells on their trauma

WARNINGS:

Brief mentions of Sexual trauma

Bad words

Not edited

Mayhaps really out of character

Self indulgent

Angst

Word count: 3k+

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Her?!”

“Yeah, her.” Suna confirmed, sharp eyes watching your expressions change as you interacted with your friends quite a few lunch tables away.

“Ha! Yeah, good luck Rin. I heard She’s prude as fuck” his friend patted Suna’s shoulder in a rough yet playful way. “I‘ve been school mates with her since intermediate, no good. She’s never dated anyone, rejects any confessions thrown her way, and immediately rejects people’s advances. You’re booking a room at the Heartbreak hotel if you’d ask me.”

“I didn’t ask, but thanks for looking out.” He didn’t expect his friend to react so negatively, immediately he changed the topic, no longer wanting to speak of you if it wasn't praise. Either way,Suna couldn't care less about who you rejected and why they got rejected. At the end of the day, they weren't him, and they didn’t know you.

___

You unknowingly planted a ‘parasite’ in Suna’s mind, as he likes to call it. He recalls the exact moment in which you were no longer blurred in the background, but right in his face the whole time; a small act of kindness that rotted his brain away with how much he thought about it.

He started noticing how frequent you two run into each other after the first ‘encounter’, now he quietly and stealthily looks your way in hopes of possibly catching you doing another kind act. Much to Suna’s surprise, he had the privilege of witnessing your integrity on multiple occasions which only made him want to be closer to you.

Of course he never initiated anything, nor did he make the effort to speak to you. He felt there really was no proper way to approach you without it being awkward in his eyes. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to initiate conversation?

“Hey, I have seen you do kind things for others and now I want to get to know you?”

“Hello, I saw you pay for someone’s items one time and now i can’t stop thinking about you, i’m Suna Rintaro”

Thoughts that kept him up sometimes. Thoughts that took up the free space in his mind until they started to affect his little day to day routines. It scared him to see himself willingly want to do things for you that were completely out of character. You. A person he only got to see a glimpse of, maybe that's what kept his infatuation burning. To think that the light that radiated from you was just what seeped through the cracks, a sample of who you really were, he only got a little taste and he was feening for more.

Suna was a quiet man, but he could only keep his head in the clouds for so long before someone noticed.

“So, what’s been on your mind?” Kita pulled him to the side after practice one day and that’s when he spilled everything to Kita. Kita himself was surprised yet honored to see this vulnerable side of Suna.

With a little encouragement from his teammate, he decided to tell you how he felt. He of course asked Kita and Aran for assistance,as they were the most level-headed members of the team and his friend group. They suggested the letter method opposed to the DM method Suna insisted would ‘be a lot easier’ to do. But they weren’t going to let him be a coward. “Things such as romance shouldn’t be done half-assed.” Kita damn near scolded him and reluctantly Suna obliged.

Somehow the twins caught wind of the plan, and decided they would be there while he confessed, in hiding of course. And after dragging Kita and Aran along, despite their protests and mentions of violating Suna’s privacy, the gang was somehow all there.

——

He practiced this very moment countless times in his head even preparing for rejection.

“Suna-San..'' you looked up from the envelope he handed you, you stared directly into his eyes, various forms of negative emotions displayed on your own face causing his anxiety to shoot through the roof, but the smile you gave him afterwards alleviated it just a tad.

‘Heartbreak Hotel…’ His friend's words repeated in his mind and Suna wondered if maybe he made a mistake, even if he barely said anything, did his actions come off too strong?

“...I am flattered, I really am…” You chuckled a bit, hiding the lower half of your face with the letter, slightly embarrassed but really flattered.

Oh how He wished you hadn’t done that. He wanted to see how you beamed because of him, even if the rejection would follow afterwards, he wished that smile reached him.

“But please don’t waste your time on me.” You laughed, examining the envelope, not looking at him while your fingers traced the large red heart sticker that sealed the confession.

He took the hit like a man, understanding that not everyone was going to like him in that way and rejection in life was inevitable, but he wasn’t going to let this go so easily, not when it came to you. Not when you called it a waste of time.

You were grateful that Suna didn’t do this in front of everyone, like all the others, Blissfully unaware that the devils were in the details and said devils were actually listening in and cheering for Suna silently on the other side of the lockers.

There were a million things Suna wanted to say but he couldn’t choose what to say in time before things went awkwardly silent. You couldn’t look at him for long before you shyly turned away, once again covering your face as you laughed.

“Thank you though.. but yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow in class?” You took a step to the side to walk past him, but before you managed to get away he took a step in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

He gave you a serious look once he finally grasped onto something to say , there wasn’t any hidden anger in his gaze, much to your relief.

“Pursuing you isn't a waste of my time.” He said plainly, his cool demeanor never wavered but internally his heart was doing flips. You were not expecting this kind of reaction honestly. Everyone else you had rejected always took it like a bitch, utterly offended and of course left you hurt with the slew of insults they used to mask their pain and to get back at you on their way out.

But not Suna, he had patience and was understanding. It hurt you that you had to reject him, but you couldn’t do that to him, not when you were still… fucked.

“That’s ‘cause you don’t even know me.” Your laugh was a pained one, and your fight or flight senses kicked in, he was stretching the moment as much as possible and it made you nervous.

“I know enough to know I want more.” he replied.

“And that’s a mistake on your end.” You snapped but you didn’t mean to. Your hands began to shake and your voice was beginning to crack under the pressure. You knew he meant no harm in prying, but you wished he would have reacted the way all the others have since It would have been easier to escape the situation.

His heart was heavy, but obviously not as heavy as yours.

“Look, Suna” you began, exhaling deeply. Your eyes finally met his. “I’m what they call damaged goods, okay? I won’t be able to give you what you want. Relationships require things that are difficult for me to give, and I think it’s best you trash the idea.” Your voice was small but the meaning behind your words was not.

“What is it that's required?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, the nerves finally hitting him breaking his chill character. “Y-you never know..M..maybe you don’t have to give it to me...”

Your brows were knit together, confused at how oblivious he was. Did he really not get it? Or was this all an elaborate prank?

You opened up your mouth to speak but before you could mutter anything out, Kita came from around the corner, immediately you shoved the letter into your back pocket. Little did you know the letter was their doing. Well, Mainly Aran and Kita.

“Oh, there you are Rin. I hope I’m not intruding in anything, but we can’t start practice without you.”

Kita gave you a nod and a small smile, you returned the nod, and attempted with the smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes as it normally would.

Suna had a confused look on his face, but he played along. “Right…. “ He muttered, turning to look at you. You stared back at him but you were the first one to break eye contact

“Do your best at practice..I’ll see you around.” You whispered and quickly saw yourself out.

——

Atsumu, Osamu, and Aran stepped from the other side once Kita gave them the cue.

They rushed to Suna’s side, immediately bombarding him with praise and encouragement, and Suna hated it. He didn’t mean to feel this way, but Suna knew the praise came from a place of pity, it was etched on their sad smiles. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, even if he knew they were just trying to help.

Practice went on as it normally would, Suna was quieter though, as expected. He let his mind wander, the scene replaying in his head, trying to ping the exact moment where he messed up.

Kita pulled him to the side once again after practice.

“You are no coward.” Kita gave him a reassuring smile, Suna couldn’t return it though.

“It feels like I am.” He took a seat on the steps outside, Kita following suit.

“It’s understandable why you feel that way, romance is nothing easy. But you did what you could out there, you should be proud of yourself.” Kita threw in another one of his smiles but Suna wasn’t even looking his way, his mind everywhere but here.

Kita continued, knowing Suna was probably not going to say much to him. “ But the reason I pulled you aside today was to explain why I intervened. It seems that what she said went way over your head and I couldn’t continue to listen to you unknowingly pry.”

With those words Suna was thrown back to planet earth. He snapped his head in Kita’a direction, visible uncertainty in his eyes.

“It was when l/n talked about being ‘damaged goods’ and about what she couldn’t give you in a relationship.” Kita looked at Suna, searching his eyes to see in case the lightbulb finally flicked on. But it didn’t so he continued.

“I’m in a place I don’t belong, but Rin, I’m pretty sure she was referring to trauma...whether it be sexual or not, I suggest you refrain from prying.”

The cogs in Suna’s mind finally began to spin. He was able to put the pieces together and see the entire image for what it was. It made him sad to think that you referred to yourself as ‘damaged goods’ because of your past. He wanted to doubt the possibility, but the pieces to the puzzle fit all too well for it to be anything else.

Not only that- Kita, being as intuitive as he was, was usually never wrong about these kinds of things, nor would he lie to Suna. Especially about something like that.

He then remembered the ‘warning’ his friend gave him that one day. A wave of disappointment rushed through him knowing that his ‘friend’ made assumptions about you whilst being completely oblivious to the truth.

All of these things ran through his mind at a million miles per second. “Are you okay?” Kita snapped him out of his trance, he didn’t realize he hadn’t moved or said anything since he put it all together.

“Yeah.” He stood up and walked down the remainder of the concrete steps, Kita following his lead. “I’m heading home. Uhh...thanks for looking out, even if things didn’t go as planned” Suna rubbed the back of his neck and turned to watch Kita walk down the remainder of the steps

“And thank you for confiding in me, even though somehow the twins caught wind of it all.” They both chuckled at the last part.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and chin up. You did your best” Kita waved him goodbye and headed home. Suna gave him a wave and headed home himself. Even though he got his feelings for you off his chest, he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like somehow the weight on his shoulders had increased.

—-

Reading the letter fucked you up. Of course it made your heart skip a beat, but it also made you hate yourself for familiar reasons.

Paragraph after paragraph of nothing but praise. You hated how you couldn’t see any of the things he said in yourself.

You fucking hated how being touched by someone without consent changed your entire life. You hated how much influence your past had on your future.

Moments like these and confessions like this made you question if you would ever live the life you wanted.

The concepts of marriage, children, sex, and almost all forms of physical intimacy made you cringe and shiver in disgust.

Things you once desired became things you hated, all because someone else fucked them up for you.

—

“Are you okay?...” your best friend, Hanako, asked as she looked up from the envelope you opened cautiously so as to not mess up the sticker.

You nodded, no longer having the energy to speak after all the crying. You didn’t even look at her while she asked, you just sat on your bed, staring at the wall mindlessly playing with the fur of one of your blankets.

“Your feelings are valid, I hope you know.” She rubbed soothing circles on your back and again you nodded, wiping your eyes again.

“It just sucks ya know? Because I want this so bad, but who the fuck is going to want to wait around for me? Imagine getting in a relationship with someone you can’t be intimate with because they’re scared. Like great, what a waste of their time.” You shook your head and went back to playing with the fur.

“None of those things are true, and the real world is wayyyy different. There are people out there who are patient and understanding and there is more to love than what you know. Trust me, take it from someone who’s graduated and has a little taste of real life .” She placed a hand on your shoulder and shook it playfully, trying to get you out of your funk.

“It doesn’t feel that way.” You muttered under your breath

“You feel this way only because you haven’t fully healed. And I don’t blame you y/n… the things you underwent require a lot of healing so please take as much time as you need and go easy on yourself.....” she grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

There wasn’t much left you had to say, but Hanako stayed by your side a while longer, watching a movie she knew was your fave to try and ease the pain. She had been here with you many times before and she would do it again and again because she loved you and wanted you to love yourself.

Hanako left long after the sun had set, she would’ve spent the night but she knew you had class the following morning.

But you couldn’t go to sleep, instead you reread the letter. Reading the paragraphs that made you feel like you were actually worth someone’s time over and over again.

‘There hasn’t been a day since that you don’t cross my mind. What started off as curiosity became something more. Your kind heart connected with that smile, that laugh, that face, It became too much for me to bear, I couldn’t go another day without telling you.’

Tears fell onto the paper, and you were quick to use your shirt to dab away the tears, not wanting to mess up the effort he put into it. After rereading the letter for what seemed to be the thousandth time, you decided it was time for bed.

After doing your routine you headed for bed, but as soon as your head hit the pillows your phone buzzed multiple times.

‘@2501Suna Sent you a message request’

‘Hey I know it’s late but’

‘It didn’t register to me what u meant by damaged goods until way after’

‘I’m sorry I’m kind of a dummy’

‘I didn’t mean to pry’

‘or make u uncomfortable’

‘And forgive me if I’m speaking in a place I’m not welcome’

‘But if what I think happened, happened’

‘I still stand by what I said in the letter’

‘And u are still deserving of love’

‘Have a Goodnight and see u tomorrow (^:’

He seemed to press enter with every Sentence causing your phone to buzz continuously.

You read the messages as they came in real time and just when you thought you’d stopped crying, fresh tears seeped out again.

You didn’t have much to say so all you did was double tap the messages, little hearts appearing at the bottom of each one, your way of showing your appreciation without having to say anything.

It was crazy to think that you had plagued someone's mind like Suna claimed you did. Even in the late night he still thought of you and considered your feelings, and even if you did reject him, Suna didn’t look for ways to kill the ‘parasite’ in his brain. If anything it fed it more.

You couldn’t help but smile at the messages, even if the horrendous self doubt clouded your mind, it was his efforts and his own kind heart that parted the clouds for you, you basked in the feeling, even if it was just for the moment.

A/N:

Trauma does not define you

Trauma does not get to influence your choices

Love is real

& Love is out there for you

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

[prompt-master]

THIS BITCH FUCKING DYING XD XD X'D

This is a lighthearted comedy fic, but I’m going to give a warning for mention/talks of suicide and death.

Now this may be a shocking sentiment to share; but being in a killing game fucking sucked, even if you were Momota Kaito. As ludicrous as that statement appears, heroes had a tough time in tragedy too. Kaito found himself feeling disappointed more often than he would like at the sight of his companions distrusting each other. How were they supposed to work together and escape if people were “scared” that they would be “murdered”?! Kaito believed in trust to the bitter end and he would see that philosophy through. To point the finger at others and accuse them of murder is simply what the mastermind wanted him to do, and if Kaito was anything he was not a loser.

But that’s part of what made his sidekick so incredible! No hero was complete without his supporting role! Of course, Shuichi was much more than a supporting role. In many ways he was the protagonist of his own world (Kaito is still the hero of this story, make no mistake). Even though Shuichi relied on the motivation of others to see himself through, he was probably one of the most capable men he’d ever met. His intinution and detective skills were essential to each trial when his thoughts weren’t fogged up by mental recoil. And despite his reclusive demeanor, he was a good friend to have that everyone wanted the best for. Shuichi was Kaito’s sidekick and it showed! For his sidekick had to stand on his own as one of the best!

...Well, maybe sometimes Shuichi didn’t have a leg to stand on because he didn’t look so dependable laying face-down on the ground. 

“Shuichi! Are you- what are you doing?” 

Shuichi was down on the ground in front of his Ultimate Lab with his foot stuck propping the door open. He didn’t lift his head up when Kaito called out his name, instead opting for a string of gibberish and raising one hand off the ground. 

“No, seriously. What are you doing?” Kaito propped the dizzy detective up against the wall, catching him as he nearly swayed back down to the floor in response. Kaito took note of his flushed face and unfocused demeanor. There wasn’t...booze in this killing game right? That would suck. A killing game and booze wouldn’t mix well. Although some may disagree and say a pint is just the pick me up after watching one of your friends be slaughtered.

“M-Momota-kun…” it seemed Shuichi was gathering his bearings again. He braced himself against Kaito by gripping his sleeves. 

“Alright, c’mon Shuichi. Let’s get you to the others. I’m sure they can help us out somehow!”

“Ah but...first things first…” Shuichi looked up at Kaito with a determined resolve in his eyes typically reserved for class trials. 

“If I die, it’s a suicide.”

Huh?

Huh?

HUH?!

WHAT?!

“Shuichi?!” Kaito shook Shuichi by the shoulders until he looked ready to pass out and keel over for good, “Why would you do that?! You have so much to live for!”

And Shuichi had the damn nerve to look exasperated by the panic, “Ack- Momota-kun please calm down it was an accident!”

“How do you accidentally kill yourself?!”

“Well it happens all the time really but-”

“That’s not reassuring coming from you! Just-” Kaito took a deep breath to steady his frustrations, “why the hell are you dying?”

“It’s- haha, well uhm, it’s a bit of a funny story you see-” Shuichi stopped his ramblings at Kaito’s unimpressed glare, Shuichi sighed and slumped over with a sense of shame and embarrassment, “I was in my lab familiarizing myself with the various poisons in case anyone tried to use one, but ended up dropping a bottle of powder on the floor and inhaling quite a bit.”

“T-that sounds pretty serious…” Kaito mumbled. “How do you treat a toxic inhalant?...How do I help you..? Just say the word and I’ll be there, sidekick!”

Shuichi closed his eyes and rested against the door. After a moment he said “At this rate, people will assume you killed me since you were with me all this time. So, to prove that it was a suicide-”

“Shuichi I asked how to save you not how to solve your murder.”

Shuichi tilted his head with a fog of puzzlement in his eyes, “...but solving murders is what I do?”

“Well don’t do it right now! I’m trying to prevent your death!”

“Hm.” Shuichi seemed to have to rethink his evaluation, but the situation hadn’t changed. “This is a killing game, Momota-kun. I don’t think surviving or saving is on par with the course of action the mastermind planned out.”

“W-well if there’s a poison, there’s an antidote right?”

Shuichi shook his head, “No, there’s probably enough materials to make one, but... I’m not a chemist.”

“Let’s ask Iruma to make one then!”

“She’s not a chemist either.” Not to mention Shuichi didn’t trust any sort of edible concoction Miu put together. He wasn’t sure what she would create, but he did know it would make him want to die even faster.

“Ok then, let’s ask Harumaki!”

“Wh- Momota-kun, Harukawa-san kills people!”

“Yeah, so maybe she knows how to unkill people too! I’m pretty sure she can do basically anything.”

Shuichi, with his head now in his hands, decided that it would be easier to simply go along with Kaito’s antics. His body felt weak and gross and his head was splitting, which was a shame because in all honesty that powder had smelt nice. If only it didn’t leave his lab in need of a quarantine. It could’ve been a good candle scent. Or perhaps Shuichi was just veering into delirium. Dying will do that to you. 

He was definitely veering into delirium because one moment he was staring down at his hands and the next he was being carried by Kaito. The worst part of it all was that it didn’t match his daydreams of being romantically carried bridal style by his crush. Instead he was a heavy sack of dead weight plopped against Kaito’s back trying to keep his nausea down as Kaito descended a set of stairs.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” Shuichi mumbled upon realizing that he couldn’t remember Kaito’s plan. If he had one.

“We’re going to get you help!” Shuichi thought it was a pretty bad idea. It would just make the trial even more confusing and he wouldn’t be able to clarify since corpses don’t make for good witnesses. Even if he wanted to voice that though, he ended up in a nasty coughing fit that left him gasping for air.

“Dammit!” Kaito hissed out, “If only Tojo was still here!”

That Shuichi agreed with. If Kirumi was here she would somehow manage to create a cure even though that was absolutely not in the job description of a maid. Her backstory concerned Shuichi quite a bit.

“There he is!” Kaito yelled out, picking up his pace from a light jog to a full run.

“We’re...w-w’re going to ask him for help...?” Shuichi mumbled, before letting out a loud groan, “no, that’s okay...j-just let me die then.”

“Oi Monokuma!” If it weren’t for the imminent danger that would result from it, Kaito would be throttling Monokuma until something broke. “You have to help Shuichi, dammit! Give him a cure or some shit!”

Monokuma tilted his head, looking up at Kaito with pseudo-innocence, “are you stupid or something?”

“Wh-” Kaito nearly lost his anger in confusion, only for it to come back tenfold, “you have to help him!”

“No I don’t, lol.” Monokuma shrugged, “I think the bastard dropping dead would be great! Honestly any of you mistakes would do, he’s not special or anything.”

“He’s our detective!”

“Yeah, you lot are screwed without him, huh?” Monokuma let out a cackle, curled in on his stomach like Shuichi dying was the highlight of his day. “Sounds so beary hopeless to be without a protag, huh! Man we’ve lost two protags in one show, that’s a new record! Someone write that down, I want a medal!”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…” Kaito shifted Shuichi higher up on his back, ignoring the mumbles in his ear of what evidence to use in the trial, “but don’t start planning yet! Shuichi isn’t dying on my watch!”

Monokuma nodded, “yeah, you are stupid.”

“Fine then I’m going to Harumaki! She was my first plan anyway since you’re so useless!”

“Useless?” Monokuma’s voice wobbled, his head tilted down like a child being told to apologize for wrong doing, “and after all I’ve done for you too...I don’t have to provide you lot with food and shelter, you know.”

“Ahh shut up! We don’t have time for your weird feelings!” 

The world became another dizzying blur as Kaito ran off yet again. “Don’t worry Shuichi! I’m taking you to Harumaki! She’ll have everything figured out!”

---

“You inhaled a toxic powder from your lab?”

Shuichi nodded.

“And you’ve gotten no treatment this entire time?”

Shuichi nodded.

“How are you not dead already?”

Shuichi shrugged.

Maki sighed and pinched her nose, wondering how the hell these two idiots got themselves into such a mess, “Saihara, I always thought if you were going to die it would be from murder and not from some bullshit like this.”

Which was a fair assumption really. Being the detective among them, the group learned to rely on Shuichi’s deductions to solve the murders. Without him, there would be a lot of chaos that the killer could use to trick everyone. Wait. Why has no one tried to kill Shuichi again? Shuchi couldn’t tell if he was a lucky man or not, but considering he was currently dying on his crush’s back it’s safe to say he leaned towards unlucky.

Maki turned to Kaito, glaring at him in a way that said she wanted to help but the situation sucked to do anything, “what exactly do you want me to do about this?”

“Save him, of course!” “I’m not a doctor. I’m the opposite. I kill people.” 

Shuichi wished desperately that he could say “I told you so”

“Look Harumaki, we can’t just let him die like this! We’re his friends so we have to do whatever we can to help him! Not just for us, but for Akamatsu too! She wanted him to live!”

Harukawa’s steel glare seemed to melt a little at that.

“So we need a plan!” Kaito said, “and the plan is to save Shuichi!”

“That’s not a plan, that’s a goal. And it’s a stupidly impossible goal too.”

“Nothing is impossible!”

Shuichi wondered if he could just close his eyes and die to avoid all the yelling he’s had to endure today. 

Another voice joined the conversation with a loud cry of “what’s impossible!?” It was none other than Iruma Miu, confidently placing herself into the scene when no one asked her to. Kiibo was with her, following at a much slower pace with an expression that screamed second-hand embarrassment. With her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, she ensured all parties had their eyes on her before speaking again.

“Because this hard-headed freak is right! Nothing is impossible with my beautiful plump brain around! What is it you’re looking for? A new way to pull off a fictional r18 move? I knew you three were depraved, but don’t worry Mama Miu has got it covered-”

“No, you idiot.” Maki cut her off without a drop of sympathy. Shuichi didn’t have any sympathy either though, so really it was just relatable. “Saihara is dying.”

“Eh? What?” Miu’s voice fell into a submissive whimper. She curled in on herself and fiddled her hands together. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“Yes dying is usually not good.”

Kiibo worriedly hovered near Kaito, trying to get a good look at Shuichi, “is he ok?”

“No. Because he is dying.”

Miu seemed to have panic in her eyes, “he can’t die! Not yet anyway! Who killed him huh?! Who’s trying to escape?!”

“Iruma!” Kaito ignored her questions, “you can save him, right?! He was poisoned, and you always say that you can do anything!”

“I-I mean yeah I can but… but I don’t know anything about biocompatibility... I honestly just put things in the body and hope it works…I would need more time...”

“Then what about you Kiibo?! Maybe you can...I don’t know- analyze the poison and come up with a cure!”

“My algorithm doesn’t do that...I could do a Google search if we were given WIFI access though...”

“Dammit does anyone have an idea to save Shuichi?!”

“Oh! Oh!” Miu raised her hand, “I’ve seen people induce vomiting in movies to stop poison! That’ll work, yeah?!”

Maki, realizing that this conversation was going to draw out far longer than to her liking, pulled out a chair and sat in it, “first of all: do not do that. Second of all it was an inhalant. I don’t think that will stop his lungs from shutting down any time soon.”

“I know!” Kiibo turned to Miu with a determined look, “Iruma-san! Repurpose my wiring so that my hands function as a defibrillator!”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Maki asked.

“Well it might stop Saihara-kun from dying if his heart stopped!”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Maki stressed, “we just have to lay him down, monitor him,, and hope he lives” 

“Harumaki that’s the same as giving up!”

“Hey hey!” No. God dammit. Sure, let’s keep complicating the dialogue. Shuichi was having a very bad day. Could this poison just finish him off already instead of leaving him on death’s doorstep? Fucking rude. Ouma Kokichi, hearing the glorious sounds of frantic arguing, skipped over to the group with a peachy look on his face.

 “What’s wrong with you all? You’re acting like somebody died.” Kokichi did a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth with his hands, “did someone die?! Did someone finally kill Keeboy?!” 

Kiibo stopped debating with Miu to give Kokichi an unimpressed look, “seriously?”

“Nishishi- yeah, I guess that would be too lucky.”

“Can you take something seriously for once in your life?” Maki glared, “because somebody will die if we can’t figure this out. Saihara inhaled a toxic powder and we aren’t sure how much time we have left to save him.”

“Ehh?” Kokichi’s face turned from confusion to worry. He’d clearly thought Maki was messing with him until he saw Shuichi’s half conscious body draped over Kaito looking very much like a victim of poison. Just as quickly as his expression changed it turned into an over exaggerated ploy they’d all seen a million times. His eyes filled with tears, his lip quivered, his nose started to sniffle. With a hiccup in his voice he began to whimper, “one of you guys is trying to kill my Saihara-chan?! I thought you all were preaching about friendship and trust and ending the killing game!”

Kokichi tilted his head back as he fell into a full on sob. A loud childish ear-breaking wail resounded as tears poured from his eyes with practiced ease. “You guys are so awful!” he yelled in between his sobs, “how could you do this?! Saihara-chan can’t die!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, flat ass!’ Miu yelled. 

And just like that Kokichi’s sobs had turned off. A complete 180 from his previous demeanor. It was like he hadn’t cried at all. His eyes weren’t red and puffy, his nose was dry, and his body was relaxed and poised. He stared camly down at his fingernails, examining them as though this situation was nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his day. “I’m serious, you know. I would never joke or lie. Saihara-chan can’t die, this game wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Kaito nearly asked Kokichi what he meant. Did he care about Shuichi? Did he care about their survival? Was he finally coming around? 

“Oi Monokuma!” Kokichi yelled. Monokuma bounced into the scene as though he was on Kokichi’s beck and call. “Hey did you know that Saihara-chan is dying? Like right now? And we’re all just watching that?”

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t starting his redemption arc then. Maybe he’s still the same piece of shit Kokichi.

“Ouma, what are-”

“Of course I know! It’s pretty funny, huh Ouma-kun?”

Kokichi laughed along with Monokuma, as though they were cut from the same tree. But then suddenly he was back to that semi-disappointed demeanor. “Yeah. Saihara-chan is dying. And doesn’t that really suck? This game is going to sooo be terrible without him. In his trial I bet we’re all going to die because these morons can’t think without him. You know that too, don’t you, Monokuma? WIthout Saihara-chan your show is going to be cut off in this most annoying and unentertaining way. Ahhh I can’t believe this is how the game ends. After all that build up too. I don’t think I even want to be a part of this any more honestly. I’d much rather pig breath die.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

 Monokuma seemed taken aback by Kokichi’s analysis. He pondered it for a moment, nervously looking around and imagining all the lovely executions that would go to waste if Shuichi died right now. With a sigh he pulled out a very suspicious bottle from-...actually where did he pull that bottle from? Not important. What was important was that there was finally a cure in front of them, the one they’d been asking for all this time.

“Give him this and the brat should be good as new!” and with that Monokuma popped away.

Kokichi, holding the vial, smiled brightly at the others, “Here you go! Don’t let Saihara-chan die again okay! I don’t care if any of you others do but Saihara-chan is very special m’kay?”

…

…

...

“So you mean…I really could have asked Monokuma for a cure?! The bastard was just lying to me!?”

[jawritter]

Merry Christmas Sweetheart

Summary: Time doesn’t heal all wounds, sometimes it just drives them into our bones and festers there, until forgiveness is a four letter word, and it’s to late for second chances. 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Presents

Word Count: 2048

Beta’d by: @miss-nerd95! Thanks again love!

Warnings: Language, Heart break, Heavy angst, (This one is gonna hurt your feelings), Not really a very happy ending, a bit of a cliff hanger, Tears, past heartbreak, unrequited love. I think that’s it.

A/N: Merry Christmas @msmarvelouswinchester!! Lol, glad I found someone who loves their feelings hurt as much as I do! LOL. Hope you all enjoy this one! Please don’t copy my work! I promise my next bingo one shot will be fluffy. I was just really in my head when I wrote this one. 

***MASTERLIST***   ***BECOME A PATREON***

It was cold today, especially for Austin. Your breath fogged in front of you with each puff of air from your lungs that burned in the bitter cold. A light dusting of snow fell around about, not much to keep everyone locked in their homes, but enough to gather on the top of cars that were parked out in the lot just beyond the safety of the airport terminal hanger that you were standing in front of with your bag slung over your shoulder, hands stuffed deep in your pockets. 

The congestion of traffic appeared to be even thicker than what you remembered it being, even for the holidays.  Everyone that walked by to get into cabs or ubers, seemed to be absorbed in their own little bubbles; either talking on phones or to one another as they made their way to their awaiting ride. 

If you listened hard enough, you could hear the faint sounds of the customary cheerful  music of the holidays playing in one of the little shops inside of the airport as the doors opened and closed not so far behind you. Off in the distance you could see the Christmas lights strung up in an elegant way on a lamp post and draped over shrubbery in the fading light of another day. It almost looked like a scene from some shitty Hallmark Christmas special, and it made your stomach churn uneasily. 

It had been eleven long years since you had stepped foot on Texas soil, and you were seriously considering getting the hell out of here before he showed up, but it was too late to turn around. You could always tell him you missed your flight, or it got delayed by the weather so you just cancelled it, but you just knew that he wouldn’t buy it. 

“Come on Steve,” you grumbled to yourself as yet another car pulled away from the hanger you were waiting under, and a happy, probably newly married from the looks of it, love-struck couple nuzzled together to fight against the bite of the cold wind that whipped around and sliced through your bones. 

You probably would have been better off calling an uber to pick you up, but hey, Steve didn’t charge, and you really didn’t want anyone else to know you were here. Not yet atleast, mostly because you didn’t know if you were even going to stay. 

Just as you were about to take your phone out and call him, the pair of headlights you had been waiting for pulled up in front of you.

You didn’t even let the car come to a complete stop before you pulled the door open and slipped inside, shaking slightly from the cold as you pulled the seat belt over you, meeting a pair of green eyes that were so not what you expected to see, and your heart dropped to your feet. 

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sounding like warm honey against the chill that was still making you shiver, and you hated the way you could still so easily drown into it. You were going to murder Steve when you saw him again. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth, and you could have sworn you saw him give out a shaky sigh as he pulled out onto the road. 

“Steve mentioned he was picking you up today, and I told him I’ll do it because I wanted to see you,” Jensen said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and shifting nervously, avoiding the death glare that you were giving him. “You left the night I told you Danneel and I were getting married, and I never saw you again. Not even a fucking word. Then I heard you're coming here, and I wanted to see you. I missed my friend.”

“The term ‘friend’ is a matter of one sided opinions, Jensen,” you told him shortly, not missing the way he flinched yet again out of the corner of your eye before trying to subtly readjust himself in his seat. 

An awkward silence fell in the car, and you did your best to stare out the window and not at the man that was driving. Even though your eyes were trained on the blurry and dimly lit scenery you could still sense his every move, smell his cologne in the thick air that laid stagnant between you, hear every deep sigh that left his perfect lips as he struggled with words he wanted to say, but nothing would sound right; nothing felt right anymore. 

“What are you doing in town,” he finally asked cautiously, as if he knew that one wrong move would set you off and you were suddenly demanding he pull over so that you could walk the rest of the way to Steve’s.

“Business,” you answer sharply, not in the mood for small talk, but it looked like Jensen thought awkward conversations won over awkward silences and pressed further. 

“Business? This close to Christmas?” he asked, but your nerves were beginning to wear thin, and the old scars on your heart felt like they were being torn open inch by inch the longer you sat next to the man that had put them there all those years ago. 

“It's real estate,” you snap, turning to face him in the seat fully in your building frustration. “Does your wife know you're here right now?” 

You watched as the rebuttal question cut through him as if you had thrown a sword right at his chest. The visible shift and the clearing of his throat as he avoided your sharp gaze was speaking loud, but it only added to your growing confusion that was still somewhat blinding your judgement with old grief. 

Jensen cleared his throat as he turned onto Steve’s street, still avoiding your gaze. “What kind of real estate?” he asked, trying to divert the topic, and your blood boiled under your skin. 

“So you're just going to answer my question with another question? That’s real mature Jensen,” you snapped as he pulled in front of Steve’s little place, and put the car in park.

“Because I don’t want to talk about Danneel, I wanted to talk about you. I told you, I’ve missed you. You were my best friend Y/N, why did you leave me without so much as a goodbye or even a fuck you if you were so mad at me, and then show up again all these years later on 'business,' I deserve some answers too.”

You shook your head and bit back the tears that the taunting memory of the night you’d boarded a plane to New York with only a bag full of clothes, and the shattered pieces of your heart ripped through your out of repair. 

You turned away from his broken gaze that still managed to make your heart clench, and gripped the handle of the door tightly, ripping it open and letting in the chill of the night air that only seemed to grow colder due to meeting Jensen to blow into the car.

“Oh you missed me so much, didn't you?” you asked, pure venom seeping into every word as your eyes threw daggers into his astonishing green orbs in the dim light that illuminated the small space between you. 

“Did you miss me when you stood before God and our friends when you did your vows with that whore? After everything when I’d stood by your side, after all the years we had been together, did you miss me then? How about when she gave birth to your three children, and you were standing there in the delivery room with her? Or better yet, how about every time you were balls deep in that bitch while I was only in the next room, listening to you rip my heart out and stomp on it over and over again? You didn’t miss me then Jensen, you don’t miss me now. You feel guilty, but you shouldn’t. You can only feel what you feel and can't change what you want, but apparently pretty narcissistic bitches are more of your taste than people who actually care about you. I was right there in front of you for years and you never gave me the time of day, but one month on a movie set with her and ‘you were so in love. I left all those years ago because you left me a long time before I even landed in New York. So don’t sit here and act like you missed me, when you never saw me there at all like I wanted you to. Don't make me feel bad for leaving when you know it hurt me less than staying here.” 

You tore your eyes away from him before your emotions could get the best of you, and stepped out, making your way into Steve’s home to hide from the past that was still sitting in the car outside, staring out of the window as the snow fell on the windshield. 

Jensen bit down hard on his lower lip, trying not to choke on the sobs he refused to let out. 

See, he had missed you, he’d missed you so damn much. He had missed you when he looked at the woman he settled for instead standing at the altar across from him on his wedding day, only marrying her because it was what people were telling him that it was the right thing to do. That she was in the same industry, and the marriage would be good for the two of them.  He missed you during every milestone his kids made that never got shared with you, wishing it was you by his side. He didn't love his kids any less, but even though they weren't yours, he wished he’d have been able to share them with you like he’d always wanted to share everything. He couldn’t count the times he’d hidden away to call you, just to hear your voice, but chickened out over the years because he’d known he hurt you, he’d always known but let you get hurt just to play it safe. 

That time you were talking about, how you'd heard Danneel and him before they had announced their engagement, he didn’t know you were even there. Danneel had come onto him and he was a little too drunk to say no. Not that he hated her, because he never could hate her, she’d done nothing wrong. It was his twisted mind that painted you underneath him every time they were together, not her. 

Jensen took off his ball cap with force before throwing it at the dash and running his hands harshly down his tear stained face. He’d lost you all those years ago and never told you how he felt, and now it seemed like he was too late. 

The cue he’d staged, the house he’d decided to look at that he had his lawyer call her to tell her that his client wanted to buy from the best realtor in New York, all to tell her that he loved her, always had and always will and that he knew how huge of a dick he had been by ignoring her feelings for his own selfishness. It looked like it was too late for any of it anyway. 

His hand drifted to his pocket, pulling out the small, neatly wrapped box that contained his and Danneel’s wedding rings. He was planning to show them to you tomorrow for Christmas. He was going to tell you that they were over, and that he wanted to fix what he’d broken all those years ago with you if you'd be willing to let go of his stupid mistakes. He wanted another chance, but it was much slimmer now. 

Jensen flipped the box in his hands before getting out of the car, trudging through the white blankets of snow to the front door, and placed the little box carefully on the step before he stood, leaning heavily against the door frame, trying to stop himself from falling apart. 

“Merry Christmas Sweetheart,” he brokenly whispered into the unforgiving wind. Leaving his present to you, as well as his heart on his best friend's front door.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @anaelsbrunette @hayleeharling   @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​ @writers-whirlwind​

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 20

masterlist

warning: angst (because I’m a sadistic bitch), mentions of miscarriage. mentions of abuse.

Namjoon was nowhere to be seen when she emerged from the closet after her bath, but Jin was there looking very uncomfortable as he waited for her.

“Here to make sure I’m fit to be a brood mare?” She threw out fastening her earrings, the gold gingko leaves shimmering in the light as they dangled from her ears. “I can tell you right now that it won’t be happening.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” He sighed tiredly running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“And I did?” She snapped her voice sharp and cold. “Tell me when in all of this I have had a choice?”

“He’s a powerful man, Y/N. It does no good to fight against him.” He tried to explain, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“I have been fighting. I’ve been fighting for months!”

“And look where it’s gotten you!” He shouted in frustration. “You have a chip in your neck, and your brother is in a cell!”

“I have done my best!” She yelled every bit as frustrated. “I have done my best not to go insane in this hellhole. I have done my best to get through this with my dignity, and I failed! Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I failed! And now I’m going to be stuck in this fucking hellhole for the rest of my life because I can’t bear to see Jackson die!”

By this point she had broken down in tears sinking down into one of the chairs situated by the windows.

“I tried so hard.” She sobbed, and Jin sighed coming to kneel in front of her.

“I know. I know, and you did so well. But there’s nothing more to do.” He whispered taking her hands in his. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. I wish it could be different, but it’s not.”

 “Why?” She asked meeting Jin’s eyes. “Why did he pick me?”

“I think he really does love you.” He offered albeit hesitantly. “He’s just… he’s not great at expressing it. If you gave him a chance,”

“I don’t want to give him a chance, Jin. I want to strangle him with my bare hands and burn his entire empire to the ground.”

“What about me? What about Jungkook?” He asked. “Do you want to burn us to the ground too? We’re part of Joon’s empire.”

“Of course not,” She sighed groaning as she dropped her head into her hands. “No, I want the best for you both, but is this really the best?”

“Where would we go? Not all of us get the chance you got to start over.” He asked laughing bitterly. “Jungkook was scooped off the streets as a kid. We raised him. He has nowhere else to go. Namjoon helped me get through medical school, and he’s my best friend. I owe him everything. He’s not a bad buy, Y/N.”

“He’s not a good guy.”  She scoffed.

“Maybe not.” Seokjin shrugged. “But are any of us? Is the world really so black and white?”

She sighed knowing he was right. Nothing was ever fully black and white. There were far too many gray areas in the world, making life messy for all involved. Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed, even this.

“You’re going to have to adapt, sweet girl. Adapt to survive.” He urged. “You could rule his whole empire if you set your mind to it. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone before. He would set the world at your feet if you asked it of him.”

“I don’t want the world. I want a normal life, a life far away from him.”

“You can’t have that, sweet girl, so you might as well take the world.” He grinned.

“Are you telling me to bleed your best friend dry?”

He laughed that wind shield wiper laugh she loved so much. “I don’t think he’d let you go that far, but he’d make you a queen.” He hesitated knowing she wouldn’t like what he was going to say next. “And maybe you could learn to love him. He is trying to win you over.”

She scoffed. “He threatened to kill Jackson.”

“I never said Joonie was good at.” Jin smiled. “He lets you get away with so much more than he’s ever let anyone else get away with. If anyone else talked to him the way you do, they’d have a bullet in their skull faster than you could blink.”

“That’s not exactly romantic.”

“He wants a life with you.”

“I’m aware. He’s talking about children.” She shuddered remembering the morning’s conversation.

“He mentioned.” Jin grinned. “I’d love to have some nieces and nephews running around.”

Something sad and longing took over her face as she sighed. “Jin…”

“You’d have really cute babies.”

“Jin…”

“Think of the little shoes, Y/N, the tiny little shoes.” There were practically hearts in his eyes as he thought of it.

“Jin, I don’t even know if I can have children.” She finally burst out in a rush. “I’ve been pregnant before, and it didn’t end well.”

Jin’s brow furrowed with concern as he put on his doctor façade. “What do you mean?”

“I was pregnant before, when I was with Marcus. He wasn’t really concerned with birth control.” She chuckled humorlessly bitterness welling up in her chest as she thought of it. “The first one I lost fairly early on. The second one…” She shivered. “It was bad, Jin.”  

“What happened?” He asked gently.

“I was five months along. Marcus was… particularly volatile that night. I was… I couldn’t… I couldn’t fight him off.” She stuttered lashes heavy with unshed tears. “There was so much blood.” She shuddered hunching in on herself.

“You lost the baby?” Jin prompted gently watching with sad eyes as she nodded.

“The doctor.” She took a deep breath. “The doctor said that I’d hemorrhaged during the… It was bad, Jin. It was really bad.” She broke down in tears leaning into Jin’s calm and safe presence as he cooed sweet words of comfort. It was all he could do at that moment.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I understand.”

“Please don’t tell him.” She whimpered. This was personal, too personal for Namjoon. He didn’t get to know this side of her. He didn’t get to know everything. He didn’t get this.

“I won’t tell him.” Jin promised. “Doctor patient confidentiality.” She released a watery laugh at that. They both knew that doctor patient confidentiality meant very little where Namjoon was involved. “Do you want to have children, Y/N?” He asked gently.

“I don’t know.” She whispered. “I never thought they’d be in the cards for me.”

“I’ll talk to Namjoon, and get you some birth control okay?” He murmured hugging her close. “He may be an idiot, but he’s not going to force you to carry a child until you’re ready to.”

“That’s not the impression he gives.” She chuckled humorlessly. “He said it would settle me.”

“Yeah, well Joonie’s an idiot.”

“Can you tell him that?”

“Are you crazy?” He laughed. “I would like to keep my head.”

Just than Seokjin’s phone rang. “Joonie!” He crowed throwing her a wink as he took the call. “We were just talking about you.”

His face lost any trace of humor following whatever Namjoon said on the other end of the line. “You want me to what? Namjoon, I’m not br….” He paused as Namjoon said something on the other side of the line.  “She’s not ready to…” He sighed in frustration as Namjoon interrupted him again. “Fine. But I am not responsible for what happens next.” He growled before ending the call.

“Jin?”

“You’re going to need some shoes. You’re wanted at headquarters.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “The idiot thinks it’s a good idea for you to be present for this meeting. You were requested apparently.”

“Me?” She asked shock coloring her tone. “Namjoon wanted me at a business meeting?”

“Not Namjoon, GOT7, another one of the gangs that operates around here.”

“What do they want with me?”

“I think it’s probably better if they explain that. I’m just the one tasked with bringing you.” It made her nervous to see how much this made Jin nervous.

“What exactly do they want with me?”

“All I know is that they’ve claimed you as theirs.”

“Theirs? I don’t even know who they are.”

“They say you’re one of the family and are demanding you be returned. Something to do with Jackson?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Well, Namjoon is pissed. He doesn’t like Jaebum very much. The good thing would be that this would give you status outside of Namjoon. You’d have protection. The bad thing is, you’re claimed as a member of a powerful family when you are trying to get away from this life. They claim you, and whether or not you get away from Namjoon, you’re in this for life.”

“This is serious then.”

“Deadly.” He agreed. “Namjoon won’t let anything bad happen to you though. You know that right?” He urged taking her hands in his. “You’ll be okay.”

“Better the devil you know, I suppose.” She agreed. “Well, let me go get cleaned up, and then we’ll go face the devils.”

“Namjoon said to bring you right away.”

“You can tell the illustrious Mr. Kim that I do not come at his beck and call, and that makeup takes time. So unless he wants me there with mascara dripping down my face looking like a hot mess, and I’m sure his guests would love that, he will have to wait.”

Jin grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

She straightened up her hair and redid her makeup doing her best to take her time. It sent a rush of glee through her knowing that the more time she took, the more irritated Namjoon would become. He could afford to sweat a little.

“Ready?” Jin asked as she stepped out doing a little twirl to show off.

“As I’ll ever be.”

part 21

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO Origins, “Conn”

Ok guys, sorry about how late this one is. Writing for a group of creatures that don’t understand spoken language or time is kind of a bitch. I tried to make it seem alien as possible, bu it was hard for me and I don’t know how well it gets across 

Was so very dark and he was so very alone.

His sails waved and undulated in the vast darkness, but no light caressed their surface to allow hmi to retreat. 

So he was here, in the never-ending quiet, he had once thought he would like the quiet but now determined that was not the case. He needed that warble of background sound, the thoughts filling up his head, however, he just wanted to be the quiet one.

He wanted his thoughts private where others could not poke and prod and see his bitterness towards them

He didn’t have a name, just images and feelings associated with his being. When everyone thought of him, they grew uncomfortable, quiet, and almost exasperated with his presence. His name was unwanted and discomfort.

Perhaps that is why he had gone and done what he did, perhaps it was his own subconscious thoughts that led him to this moment, for not even he had known until it was too late. Travelling at thousands of miles per hour, side by side with his colony, he had taken the turn far to shallow, and so his momentum had carried him off into the darkness. As he went he remembered hearing the distant fading of their voices back into the blackness.

And then there had been only silence.

And for once he had his thoughts to himself.

IT scared him, and he turned using up the last bit of his solar energy to push him back towards the star where his colony had last existed. He was so scared.

And so hopeless.

It took him one entire year to return to the star, and by that time his colony was long gone, likely thankful for his timely disappearance when they wanted it most. He tried to follow them, tried to guess where they might go, but it was no use, the universe was big, and he was so very small.

There was no reason for him to stay here, and  he took the next microrift that opened up to him. He had no idea where it would take him, and he didn’t much care. There was always a chance it would dump him out in the middle of space with no way to get anywhere else, but the starborn knew the rifts, and they knew, that for some reason, they tended to empty out close to other stars.

So he took the rift, and when he did, he sensed a wave of powerful blue light.

IT charged his body with energy and allowed him to move quickly around the system, where a bright blue emissions nebulae seemed to surround everything.

And that is when he heard them, the distant murmuring of inner thoughts. He followed them until the voices grew louder and louder and louder hoping beyond hope that they might be his. He broke from the clouds, and knew immediately they were not, their thoughts were too strange, though they were of the same type as him.

He would have turned away, but they too sensed him.

They were not pleased with his presence.

Two of his ribbons were completely torn off that day, but the queen took mercy and let him stay. She could see his long years of solitude inside his head, and would no mind one more worker for her colony. Of course, he would never be allowed mating privileges of any sort,, but he could just as well gather minerals for her

He hated it, and they could easily sense his hatred.

ON multiple occasions he was accused of trying to harbor hidden thoughts and false secrets. 

They were right, his time in the black had made him cold and indifferent to them. While he took comfort in the noise, he was used to the silence. And so he lived for an unknown amount of time, as a drifter, a vagrant hanging abut this unaccepting colony becoming more and more ostracized every day by his secret yearnings.

Year passed, and they always stayed in the same place, rotating around the same blue star with the same blue nebulae around them. He despised all of it. He wanted to travel, to see the rest of the galaxy, but the others would not have it, and they despised him for his restlessness. They would not leave their comfortable home. They were not nomads, but neither could he leave again, he was too afraid of being alone in the silence to go without him.

So he grew bittern in the bright light of their giant blue star.

Not his star, their star.

He was floating about the outer permitted of the colony one day, keeping just out of easy thought range when he felt it, or heard it, or sensed it. It was, a horrible discomfort, strange and alien for a moment he wondered if he was dying. It was like the pull of gravity was trying to suck his basins out of his head. His eyes throbbed, and his insides churned where they should not have done so.

He felt as the entire colony looked out in confusion towards the source of the voice.

Please no no, I can’t pass out I can’t pass out. I’ll die.

Behind him the colony erupted in confusion.

Conn perked up listening to the sounds he had never heard and understanding the strange language based upon those sounds without ever trying. He was, enveloped in a mind that was strange and sticky, and tangled and confused and frightened. He could feel bodily sensations that a starborn had never felt before.

Pain

The mind flickered.

No, no.

Oh no.

He shot off into the nebulae chasing the sound ribbons billowing at his back as the others called for him to stop. He had no idea what that was.

Though that was a lie.

This was a… human.

Another creature. He could see flashes of images by colors he had never seen before and through eyes so different from his. The strange feeling stirred him up inside, confused him and thrilled him at the same time. 

The voice was getting louder.

He broke from the cloud pausing at what he saw.

A strange creature vaguely starborn in shape, but wrapped in so much strange and alien material. IT rotated violently through the space.

Can’t keep it, closed.

He could feel the hand pressing tight over a tear in the fabric, knew that the creature was going to die even as it began slipping away.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he slid forward even as the creatures mind was fading out. Atmosphere was leaking from the suit, and he had to place his hand over it to stop. The human spun into him, and they both rotated for a few moments as he got his bearings, finally stopping with a burst of energy as they exited the nebulae.

He could hear voices behind him. He could hear their thoughts rising in anger for what he was doing, but he didn’t care.

He waited holding the creature as it wallowed in darkness.

They wanted him to get rid of it, but he didn’t want to listen.

It was far to interesting to get rid of.

How am I still alive? 

Or am I alive? 

Is this what the afterlife is like, floating in eternal blackness forever with no sense of time or space.

Wait , no, you should probably open your eyes first dipshit. I think I see something

He felt the creature open its eyes, watched as the strange scene unfolded before it, and his own face staring back at it, white with black eyes, thousands of ribbons trailing from behind him. His hands gripped tighter to the creature, and through it’s mind he could feel the pressure of his own hands.

Mother Fuck! 

Holy shit, what is that, what is it  doing.

Why did it save my life, what is happening?

It’s thoughts washed over him like waves. Warm memories, cold memories, sad one angry ones frightened ones. He could feel the sun on it’s back in a way that he had never experienced the sun before.

He leaned his head closer face bumping against the mask.

wait , how am I still…

The creature’s hand brushed over his.

It saved my life. But why.

He knew what the creature looked like under there, strangely like him, though it’s skin was darker. He rested a hand against the visor, almost wishing to touch it. It did the same, he could feel it trailing its hand upward to rest over his.

Could it hear him?

He didn’t think so, it acted like it couldn’t .

It needed sound to hear.

The inside of it’s head was silent, even if surrounded by a thousand others. He wanted to be like that so badly. Wanted to be with his own thoughts even as a torrent of sound raged around him.

He turned to the side as other voices interrupted him demanding he put the creature back, demanding he get rid of it.

They wanted nothing to do with it’s strangely silent thoughts, the way it couldn’t hear them. They wanted nothing to do with its awe or how it felt heat and cold. They wanted nothing to do with its colors and its pain. He could feel them looming up behind him, a massive interconnected hive mind that wish nothing more than to crush the creature’s consciousness…. He had been threatened by that before, and it was not a fate he would recommend to anyone/

What is this?

The creature had no idea what they were planning.

He turned to look at it. 

His brethren were getting closer.

He parted his lips in a smile.

Wow…. don’t don’t do that. That is…. Uh…. creepier than I would like.

But still it reached up a hand and placed it on his face.

I wish I knew what it felt like? 

They were coming for it, encroaching on all sides ready to crush its mind. What was he to do? But yes, that is when he heard its companions. 

The human remained blissfully unaware as he pulled the human closer.

He had to save it, and so he grabbed it by the arms, and pushed it back into the nebulae. He felt it’s surprise and it’s fear, how it pressed it’s fingers against the suit, and then he fele the anger and fear of his own race as they came bearing down on him. 

Their minds enveloped him.

***

They were angry at him for not killing it, for not killing the abomination that was the thing with the silent mind, but the mind was not silent, it was so lively and warm. But it was deaf that was all, and he liked that about the creature. They wanted it gone;, they wanted it gone for hiding its thoughts, and he wanted it to stay for just such reason.

And with the creature’s thoughts, with its strange ability, he walled off his plan, distracted them with other imaginings to hide his intentions, and then he followed it finding it encases inside meta, where atmosphere and gravity was heavy. The environment in which it survived scared him for he could be crushed within the gravitational field.

But still he stayed.

He wondered, if like the humans he could speak? And it would hear.

It was very difficult to form a coherent thought when all the other alien thoughts bombarded him. He felt pleasure and pain and anger and exhaustion all at once, until his insides were nothing more than a jumbled mess of confusion.

It took him hours to find the creature, and when he did, he did his best to communicate. He rested his hand against its giant metal hive its ‘space ship’ and tried to get it to hear him.

And for the first time.

He used the memory of the sounds.

“Adam.” 

He used the memory felt its confusion, felt its pain, and heard himself through the sound in its head.

***

He had committed an act of treason against them. He had harbored secret thoughts, and for that he was going to pay. He was going to die, but that was only after they took care of the thing that had corrupted his mind. He had been dragged away from the ship, dragged away after meeting the creature face to face, feeling the cold of its own hands through it’s skin. He had felt the fear and the excitement.

But now it might all be over. They did not like what he had done, and this time he had committed one last egregious mistake. He had turned against them and sought out his own private thoughts in a way that only heretics did.

He was an abomination.

But for some reason he was ok with that.

He had always been an aberrant hole in the way things were done, even when he was firstborn.

A lot of his kind had openly wondered about what was wrong with him. Many wondered,or blamed his behavior on the circumstances of his birth.

He had been born in the darkness between stars on their journey across the vastness, while the others had been away searching for minerals He was the last born to the queen before she died, her body going limp even as he floated at her side. And so he had listened to her go silent, and been left along in the darkness and quiet for an unknown period of time before the others returned.

They did not measure time like humans did.

That is why they put up with him for so long, because it was their fault no one had been there in his first moments of life. No one had been there to dispose of the suspended corpse by which rested. The males were strictly reprimanded for their absence, for it was their job to take care of the queen and her children when they were born while the females foraged.

They needed to forage twice as much to raise the youngling queen who had been born in preparation for the old queen’s death.

Perhaps it was the young males thinking that their queen was not being well-fed enough that led them to tray away when he was born, but either way it did not matter. Something had gone wrong with him, something that scared a lot of his brethren.

For he had been born in the dark and the silence filled with nothing for an unknown amount of time.

He wondered if that was the reason he chased silent sound, and perhaps that was the reason the human followed him, for it too was strange for its kind.

The others could have not asked for a more opportune time to crush its mind.

But of course he could not let that happen.

He had never fought in his life, for there was no fighting with the star born, but somehow seeing into the human’s head helped him to block out the crushing weight of force which was slowly cracking its consciousness like glass. 

And somehow he won.

***

He could feel the human’s anger, it was hot and warm, but in that same way it was anger the mind behind it was still softer than any mind he had known before. Starborn aren’t known for their ability to feel empathy. They don’t need to since they can read each other’s thoughts. But this human, it felt for him though it knew nothing anything. Despite being angry he could intrude on its thoughts.

He had felt real anger before, and this was not it.

This was blustering anger.

As far as he understood this mind was too soft to produce real anger on command, though that anger was hidden deep inside 

And despite the fear that he sometimes trailed with him, Conn found understanding and empathy on a crew of people who couldn’t even read his mind, he found a name that was not annoyance or pity.

HE found a name with sounds, and a name associated with a changing landscape.hew as never pity, sometimes he was annoyance, other ties he was amusement, sometimes he was indifference, and often his name was friendship.

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 4

Title: Fire (Or Some Mando Slice of Life) Pairing: Paz x OFC, OFC x OMC, Paz x Reader Word Count: ~6800 Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Sort-of graphic description of an injury and its treatment.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 📚 My Master List 📚

Tag List: @hdlynn @princessbatears @ffiiggyy

If you want to be tagged, let me know! :) 

[flashback]

Paz returns to the karyai. Zephyr is with Norj in the nursery, safely shielded from the shit-show that is about to happen. Three minutes after his return, Armorer strides back into the room amidst pure silence. Mere seconds later, Zeli and Liam slink into the karyai, buckets firmly back in place. Neither even dares to look up as they come stand in front of the table where Armorer is standing. She stares at them for several moments. The silence drags on, his heartbeat roaring in his ears.

“You broke your Oath. Why?” Armorer asks, in a tone that some might regard as casual.

Paz knows better than that. Armorer is livid. She has probably gone from incandescent rage to calm and back several times. They take too long to respond, and she finally loses her temper.

“Why?” Armorer barks sharply at them.

“I have no explanation,” Zeli says, her voice wavering slightly.

“I have no explanation,” Liam says hoarsely.

Like a cold autumn breeze rasping leaves across the ground, whispers erupt through the crowd, and sends a wave of prickles down his flesh.

“The Tribe cannot come to a decision regarding your punishment,” Armorer says, her voice like ice. “Twelve votes for marriage, twelve votes for exile.”

The two of them exchange a look between themselves. He knows what they are thinking: there are twenty-eight adults in the Tribe; since the Alor usually abstains from these votes, the stalemate should have been broken.

“One individual abstained from the vote,” Armorer says, her tone calm and cold. “Thus, the decision falls to me.”

She withdraws her own dagger. Though beautifully ornate, it is honed to a lethal edge. It has taken many lives over the years. It is only fitting that it decides their final fate with the tribe. She does not hesitate to drive the blade under the tongs. Marriage. It shocks him to his core. Of all the people here, he thought she would vote for exile. She withdraws, her entire body tense. No one dares to argue, though he can hear angry mutterings.

“You will marry,” Armorer says flatly.

“What about – “ Zeli starts to say.

Zeli dares to look at him. Paz tightens his jaw, biting into the sides of his cheeks to avoid the caustic response. Here, right now, he feels no sorrow. Only anger. Pure unadulterated rage. While he simmers, Din growls. She quickly looks back down.

“What about Zephyr?” Liam finally asks.

How could a buir even hesitate to ask about their child’s wellbeing? Paz is beyond disgusted with Liam.

“What about Zephyr?” Armorer repeats, enunciating each word carefully. “Did you think to ask yourself that before you bared your face to Zeli?”

“Did Paz see our faces?” Liam asks.

“No,” he responds. “I did not look.”

“Then why take our helmets?” Zeli asks quietly. “I would have thought you would want us gone…”

Paz does not look at either of them.

“My Oath to this Tribe comes before anything else. If I had not acted – if I had walked away, pretending I had not seen what I saw, I would be complicit in this blatant disregard for the Oath we all swore,” Paz says, every word carefully modulated to remain as neutral as possible. “I did what I could to ensure the best possible outcome for Zephyr, which is more than I can say for either of you.”

More muttering, though it is a lot quieter than before. To drive the knife in deeper, he continues. He cannot help himself.

“Regardless of what has been done to me, I am no liar. I still have my honor and my integrity.”

This time, everyone remains silent.

“Do you wish to exchange vows?” Armorer asks, her voice silky soft.

“We…we will exchange them,” Liam says.

His voice is hoarse. Pained. Paz feels his lip curl in disgust. The two adulterers turn to one another. Quietly, they exchange their vows. With each word, Paz feels his stomach tighten to the point of pain. He wants to throw up, but he forces himself to witness their farce of a marriage.

This is not how it is meant to be. The riduurok – the marriage bond – is formed from love. To a Mandalorian, especially one as conservative as him, marriage is an oath of loyalty, fidelity, and unconditional support.

Marriage comes from a love that is formed from mutual admiration and acceptance; from whole-hearted, joyful surrender to ones’ other half. It comes from the type of respect that grows deep, strong roots. It culminates with two people joining their lives as one, from the moment the vows are spoken until the day they go marching far, far away.

Marriage is not the love that is formed from passion, lust, and deceit. When the heat leaves their hearts, and the nights grow cold, their roots will dry and weaken. They will not grow together and become one. There will only be rot stagnation until there is only distance and bitter resentment. He can only pray that Zephyr does not suffer further.

When they finish exchanging their vows, Armorer sighs and retrieves her dagger. One by one, the others follow suit. No one looks at them. Paz turns to exit. He will not be able to make them suffer the way he wants, but at least he can make them hurt a little. He can make them know how much he despises them for what they have done. Before he leaves, he pauses next to the newlyweds.

“My congratulations to the newlyweds. It is my greatest hope that the two of you will find peace and prosperity together,” he says calmly, coolly. “My gift to you.”

He reaches into his pocket and withdraws the ceremonial blade he had hoped to give her one day. Then he flicks it down onto the table, embedding the tip into the table before Zeli. She lets out a choked sob. Liam exhales and looks away.

“Paz,” Zeli starts to say.

“Please, ner vod,” Liam tries to say. “I am so sorry – “

“Do not ever address me by name again, demagolka,” he hisses at them, finally unable to keep his temper under control. “You are dead to me.”

He turns around before either of them can speak to them. From there, Paz heads back to his room. He hesitates at the door for just a moment. Then he exhales. The sooner he gets this done, the easier it will be. Entering, he finds Din already in the process of cleaning out Zeli’s property, tossing everything carelessly into a crate. He pokes through whatever Din has already packed to make sure nothing of his accidentally ends up in there. Paz unfolds another crate and starts going through the main room, listening as Din occasionally mutters an expletive or insult.

He finds several things that had once been at home with his – her second pair of boots, a bright pink sock, and a book. All of it goes straight into the crate. Piece by piece, he removes her from his life, each article erasing part of their eight years together. Like all other wounds, this pain will eventually heal, but he will not be the same as he was before. He can only hope that his new course in life will allow him to become a better man.

From here, he watches Din strip the bedding off the mattress. He balls it up and dumps it in the bottom of another crate. Paz turns away as Din flips the mattress over. Paz has never been one to get emotional about objects, but he cannot sleep there. He will replace it eventually, but it will do for now. A firm knock at the door makes his shoulders tense. He hadn’t the foresight to tell them to stay away, that their belongings would be left at their door.

Din is at the door before he can respond.

“What?” he asks.

A gloved hand pushes a basket into his arms.

“Take care of alor’ad,” Neten says. “He’s the only one…who can kick our asses the right way, you know?”

“Thanks,” Din says gruffly. “I’ll let him know.”

He shuts the door. Before Din can put the basket down, there is another knock. This time, it is more insistent. Din opens the door again.

“Hey, Reva - what the fuck – “

“Damn it, Djarin,” comes Revala’s voice. “Grab the other end, would you?”

“Let me put this down,” Din says indignantly.

Paz watches as Revala and Terys push a mattress into the room, brand new and still wrapped. He blinks a few times in utter confusion.

“Uhm…where did this come from?” Din asks, as he backs into the room, holding his end steady.

“Eh, Terys just had a spare one laying around,” Revala says briskly. “Thought the old man could use better support for his back.”

“Yeah, we got sick of hearing him bitch about it,” Terys says. “Every other fucking day. My back this, my back that.”

The other man drops a linen bag onto the couch.

“We’ll just help tidy up,” Terys says, going straight to the bedroom.

Paz watches in silence as the two of them swiftly push the old mattress toward the door.

“Don’t want to hear you bitching about your back, okay?” Revala asks, her voice choking up.

Suddenly, Paz realizes that Terys and Revala had been planning on moving in together. That they had bought the mattress for themselves. He did not even suspect they had been in a relationship, much less being at the point of moving in together. Sudden guilt wracks him.

“Yeah,” Paz says. “I won’t. How much – “

“If you even think about trying to pay me back, I will stab you in the kriffing balls,” Terys says flatly.

“You just want any excuse to touch his balls, don’t you?” Revala asks in a saucy tone.

“Oh, fuck off,” Terys snaps.

Paz holds both hands up in surrender. The two of them disappear, bickering between themselves. Paz helps Din set the bed up on the makeshift frame. It hangs over the edges a bit, but it will do until he can replace the frame. Din unpacks the sheets and snorts.

Paz stares at the monstrosity Din has lifted out of the bag. The sheets are a violent shade of pink with fluorescent green stripes. As if the eye-watering combination is not bad enough on its own, whoever had designed the pattern also included lines of tiny black taun-tauns running parallel to the stripes.

“Holy hell,” Din breathes. “That man has no taste.”

Paz hears the grin on Din’s face, and he can’t help himself. From losing two people he once loved all the way to his Tribe rallying behind him to support him through the clusterfuck his life has suddenly become…today has been a bizarre, surreal ride of emotions. He can only laugh. Hard. Din chortles a bit, though he is clearly worried about him.

“I’m keeping them,” Paz announces.

“You’re insane,” Din retorts.

“They’re great,” Paz shoots back as they get the bedding back in place. “They add…uh…character.”

Nothing in the bag matches. One pillowcase is fluorescent orange, while the other is black. The flat sheet looks like someone spilled a child’s watercolor palette onto a dirty tissue. It might have been bleached by accident at some point, but he cannot tell. At least the thick blanket is a relatively normal shade of brown, despite being made of cheap velour-like fabric.

“They certainly add something,” Din says, as they take a step back to survey the horror scene laid out in front of them, “But I’m not sure it can be called character.”

Paz nods, suddenly sober.

“Hey…thanks,” Paz says to Din.

Din responds by grabbing him by the chest plate and headbutting him hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his skull.

“If you need anything, send me a message,” Din says.

Cheekily, he reaches into the basket Neten had brought by. He grabs a beer and a handful of the snacks. Then, with a jaunty salute, Din leaves. After locking the door, Paz goes to the basket and takes out the alcohol. He pops the cap and takes a big swallow. He grimaces. Far too bitter, no flavor. He drinks it anyway.

Turning to the bottle is an unhealthy coping mechanism that has claimed a number of his brethren, but he has no plans to make it a habit. Tonight, he just wants to be numb.

[end flashback]

-

-

-

“My fayshe feels funny,” Paz says to Din, who sighs.

“Doctor Shen, Paz is starting to slur his words,” he calls out through the door.

No one responds.

Paz tilts his head to the doorway as Doctor Shen and Armorer argue in the main room. Well, it really is not an argument. The two of them are just repeating themselves over and over in different ways, trying to tell the other what needs to happen. Armorer says the bucket does not come off due to the Oath. Doctor Shen says that the bucket comes off. The two of them have been going around in circles for a while now, long enough such that the pain medications were starting to lose their edge. It is not until Doctor Shen brings up the fact that traumatic brain injury can render him completely useless to the Tribe that Armorer relents.

“Then we blindfold you,” Armorer says.

“How the fuck do you expect me to treat him with a blindfold on?” Doctor Shen asks in exasperation.

“That is the only way,” Armorer says.

“Can I use the deep tissue scanner?” Doctor Shen asks bluntly. “I technically won’t be looking at his face – just the bones and tissue underneath the skin.”

Armorer falters.

“Can you assure us that you will not know his identity?”

“Yes,” Doctor Shen stresses.

“Very well, do what you must to ensure Paz’s health and preserve his identity,” Armorer says.

“We are going to discuss this oath with the rest of the Tribe, Armorer,” Doctor Shen says flatly. “There must be an exclusion for medical professionals.”

“Doctor Shen – “

“Armorer,” Doctor Shen hisses through her teeth.

“I will leave you to your work, Doctor.”

Paz snickers as Armorer gracefully concedes defeat. It has been such a long time since he has last witnessed Armorer backing down from a fight. Then again, there is an unspoken rule – the chief medical officer outranks even the Alor when it involves someone’s health.

Coming into the room, Doctor Shen wheels the bed over to the deep tissue scanner. She positions the arm of the machine over his head. Then Din takes over, draping a sheet over everything to keep him from being seen. Once it is set to the deep scan mode, he removes his bucket. He grimaces as the bright light stabs straight through his pupils and into the back of his head.

“First of all, how many times have you gotten your nose broken?”

“Lost count,” he remarks.

“Fuck’s sakes. Hunters,” Doctor Shen hisses. “Stay still. You’re going to feel a bit of a tickling sensation in your teeth. I’m trying to set the bone fragments without causing further damage.”

Searing pain jolts down the side of his face. Paz gasps.

“Only a sadist would call that a tickle,” he groans.

“Din, jab this into his neck, right into the jugular.”

“What is it?” Din asks.

“Painkillers,” Doctor Shen says. “Now go do it before I take it back.”

“Aye, Doctor,” Din says. “I’m gonna stab you, okay?”

“How long have you been wanting to do that?” Paz asks.

“Stop moving,” Doctor Shen growls.

Din laughs as he jabs him in the neck. After a few seconds, Paz feels his head swim.

“N-now that…that’s the good shit,” he slurs out. “C-can’t f-feel my face.”

“That particular cocktail contains a bacta infusion as well as anti-inflammatory drugs that are targeted specifically to brain tissue. There’s also a mild muscle relaxer in there for your neck muscles. So, hopefully, that’ll keep you still.”

Paz relaxes, nearly falling asleep as Doctor Shen works to reposition the bone fragments in his face through the equipment. Once his nose is put back together, she gives him another injection to stimulate the bone cells and help support the bacta infusion. She reaches under the blanket, wearing latex gloves.

“Alright, I have to do this part by touch, since I can’t look at your face,” she says. “Stay. Still. I don’t want this falling into your mouth or your eyes.”

With one hand resting on his cheek, Doctor Shen’s other hand disappears. Then it returns with a strip of quick-set stabilizing bandage. She quickly maneuvers it into place. It heats up uncomfortably as it dries.

“That will keep the bridge of your nose in the right shape,” she says. “You can wear the bucket, but please be careful putting it on and taking it off for the next few days.”

“Sure thing, doc,” he says.

Din returns to his side and slides his bucket under the sheets.

“Hey, you cleaned it out,” Paz says. “Thanks, ner vod.”

“Your neck is fine, no damage to any of the nerves, muscles, or vessels,” she says. “But those muscles are going to hurt if you agitate them again before the bacta can do its job. I don’t want you doing anything stupid, Vizla.”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” he insists.

“You’re a hunter,” she retorts sharply.

“Point taken,” Paz says. “Nothing more vigorous than light sparring, then?”

“No sparring at all,” she says. “You can lift weights and jog for the next week. No sparring until I’ve had a chance to check your muscles again.”

“Can I go shooting?”

“Handheld blasters only, nothing heavier than a child,” she says.

“Fine,” he says. “Light shooting.”

“Alright, I’m happy with where you are right now health-wise,” Doctor Shen starts to say.

“Does…does this mean I can leave today?” Paz asks as he carefully puts his bucket back on.

Then he reaches out blindly, trying to remove the sheet from his face. Doctor Shen takes the sheets away, tossing them at Din. The unspoken command is clear to them both. Din goes and puts the sheets into the bin to be washed and sterilized.

“Absolutely not,” Doctor Shen says in an exasperated tone. “You have a concussion, Paz. We take brain injuries seriously around here. Your ass is staying in that bed overnight. In the morning, I’ll decide if you can leave.”

“Doctor Shen, please,” Paz says. “I have something very important that I need to do.”

“No. Your only job right now is to heal.”

“Please? It’s extremely important,” Paz insists.

“What is so important that you want to risk further brain damage?”

“Well…I have a date,” Paz says. “So, surely, you understand – “

Her head shoots up.

“Oh, no,” Doctor Shen says. “You are staying in bed and you are cancelling your plans.”

“But – “

She turns around slowly. Paz swallows as the inky black visor of her helmet tilts down toward him.

“Alright, I’m cancelling my plans,” he says. “No problem at all.”

“Good,” she says, pacing closer to his bed, looming over him. “I would hate to have to pull rank on you.”

Paz grimaces to himself under the bucket. The last thing he wants to do is piss off Doctor Shen. He knows she will make him stay another night if he mouths off. So, wisely, he stays where he is, hoping to be put out of his misery soon.

Din sends a message, informing him that he will be getting him some clean clothes. Paz sighs and closes his eyes. Doctor Shen allowed him to wipe some of the blood off with wipes, but everything from the chin down is saturated in blood. Once she can confirm the bacta is working and that the pain medications have not caused any adverse reactions, she will let him have a proper shower.

-

-

-

When you see Din come out of medical, you approach.

“How is he?” you ask, trying to keep the worry from your voice.

“Concussed,” Din sighs. “Idiot broke his nose, but he’ll be fine once the bacta kicks in.”

You nod. A broken nose and concussion aren’t too bad.

“Does he need anything?” you ask.

“Nah, he’ll be – “

Din suddenly stops talking as he tilts his head. Then slowly, he turns his head to look at you. You wait, hoping there’s something you can do.

“You know what, I think he might need a clean set of clothes,” Din says, in an odd tone. “But I need to take care of some stuff. Can you grab him something to change into?”

You jump at the chance to help Paz.

“Absolutely,” you say. “Did Doctor Shen specify visiting hours, or - ?”

“He’s going to have a checkup in two hours,” Din says. “Take stuff to him then. He’ll appreciate whatever you bring him.”

“Okay,” you say. “I can handle that.”

Din nods. A few minutes later, a message from Din pops up in your HUD, containing Paz’s door code. Immediately, you return to your room and grab one of your larger storage bags. Chewing on your lower lip, you consider what he might need for an overnight stay in medical. Pajamas, clean clothes for tomorrow, and toiletries. A small smile crosses your face – he will need his snacks, too. Warmth spreads across your cheeks as you stride down the hallway toward the officer’s quarters.

Paz always enjoys eating whatever you cook, even when it means he sneaks something off behind your back. You have long since started making extra so he can have some as well. He is also considerate and polite, a far cry from some of the coarser company available in the Tribe. You decide that you will be as considerate with him as he is with you.

Once at his door, you type in the code and let yourself in. His room is huge, you think enviously to yourself, as you look around. He also seems to have half the armory stacked on tables and in bins around his room. Along wall, he has a large table with neatly organized tools and a few partially assembled blasters.

Turning toward the bedroom, you hesitate. This is his bedroom, his personal space. You almost feel like you are trespassing here. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head, and move forward. Din gave you his code. If he didn’t trust you, he would not have given you access to Paz’s private space. You step in and head toward the shelves opposite the end of the bed. There, you find his clothes. Tonight, he will need pajamas, so you grab one of the soft-looking flannel sets. For tomorrow, you grab a suit, a set of padding, and a cowl in matching dark grey.

In one of the boxes on the lower shelves, you find compression shirts, shorts, and socks. Those are also added to the bag. Finally, you find his shower caddy and grab it as well. Once you are finished there, you leave the bedroom, and come into the living space. Stopping by the couch, you pick up the book on the table and add it to your bag. From there, you make your way through the karyai and into the kitchen.

He will need something edible to keep his strength up. You’ve had hospital rations before and they are unpleasant, to say the least. No flavor, no spice, and certainly no heat. Doctor Shen says that the rations are bland to ensure the patient can rest and heal, but you think she secretly enjoys the torture.

In the bottom of one of the bins, you find your cake supplies. You check the time. One hour and fifty-two minutes before you can see him and drop off supplies. Plenty of time to make him a small cake and get him some snacks. Exactly two hours and a minor burn later, you finish your gift to Paz. One small tray of uj’ayali cake, made with your dwindling stock of spices, syrup, and wine. You wrap the entire thing in parchment paper and include a fork.

Then you go to the stasis unit in the corner and steal some of the cheeses, crackers, and a small container of pickles. There, something to tide him over. In one of the bins, you find some apples. You take two for him so Doctor Shen cannot complain about him eating too much cake.

You would not do this for anyone else. You love your Tribe, but Paz is special to you. Nervously, you stop that train of thought before it can even depart the station. Paz is your friend first and foremost.

Glancing around, you take in your mess. It is extensive. Well, that all can wait until later. Paz needs you more than anything needs to be cleaned up. You turn the lights off and make your way to medical, hefting the bag onto your shoulder. You wait patiently inside the main room, listening as Doctor Shen scolds Paz for something or another. When Doctor Shen steps outside of the private room, she does a blatant double-take.

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

“I’d like to see Paz,” you say. “Is it okay if I go in?”

Doctor Shen pokes her head into the private room.

“You okay with seeing more visitors, buckethead?”

“Depends,” comes Paz’s voice. “Who is it?”

“Shu’shika,” Doctor Shen says.

“Sure,” Paz says. “Send her in.”

You step in, noting that Doctor Shen is watching you, her head cocked to one side. As soon as you come into the room, she follows you to the doorway, carrying a tray of equipment. Paz is resting on the bed, his legs crossed at the ankle, and his boots on the floor.

“Hey,” you say, echoing his words from earlier.

“Hey,” he repeats. “So, uh, what brings you here? What is all this, anyway?”

“Din said he has some really important stuff to work on, so I volunteered to get you some supplies,” you say to him. Digging into the bag, you grab his book and hand it to him. “Din sent the code for your door, by the way, I didn’t like break in or anything.”

Paz’s head jerks up at your words.

“Din…sent you the code?”

“Yes,” you say. “He was in such a rush to go finish his work. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he says, in an odd sort of tone. “I am so glad I cleaned up last night.”

You laugh as you hang the bag onto one of the wall hooks.

“I also came to see if you’re okay,” you say quietly, “And to see if you’d like some company?”

He nods in response.

“You want to stay and keep this cranky idiot company?” Doctor Shen asks, as she goes to the deep tissue scanner in the corner.

Paz growls as you sit down next to him.

“Well, of course,” you say. “Why wouldn’t I come see Paz?”

“I don’t mind,” Paz says. His voice takes a mischievous tone. “You did say you didn’t want to speak to Lyras. So now you don’t have to talk to him.”

You laugh, relief filling you. Then you clear your throat a bit.

“I…I also wanted to give you this,” you say, holding the tray to him.

He takes the tray from you, still slightly warm from the oven. He unwraps it and stares down at your offering to him.

“Uhm…my buir always said to eat plenty of uj’ayali if I was injured,” you say.

Inexplicably, you feel yourself blushing cherry-red, the heat filling you all the way down to your bellybutton.

“Where the hell did you find uj’ayali?” Doctor Shen asks.

“I-I made it,” you stammer out.

Oh, gods above, why did I even come here?

“You made this for me?” Paz repeats, his tone so gentle that your breath catches in your throat.

You nod earnestly at Paz. Thankfully, he does not seem too weirded out by your forwardness. In fact, he might even sound a bit happy at it.

“You made… You made - ?” Doctor Shen asks.

You can feel her incredulous stare through her bucket.

“I have some of that wine that you like,” you admit softly. “I kept a few bottles…for a special occasion.”

“Thank you,” he says, his voice sounding almost awed. “I really appreciate it, Shu’shika.”

“I’ll go finish something else,” Doctor Shen says, backing toward the door. “Uh…somewhere else.”

She shuts the door, leaving the two of you alone. As much as you appreciate the doctor, you are grateful that she has work to do. You have not had a lot of time with Paz in the past few weeks, so you would like to make the most of your visit with him today.

“Would you like to try some?” you ask. “I can wheel the privacy curtain over, if you’d like. We can…we can hang out. Since we can’t go shooting.”

Hopefully, he will not think that you are being clingy.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’d like that.”

You beam at him. You have no idea why Doctor Shen would say he is cranky.

-

-

-

Doctor Shen finishes putting her equipment into the autoclave just as Din carefully peers into the room, edging in as if expecting to be attacked. She looks up at him. He has to know about you and Paz. She goes to him.

“Did you know about Paz and Shu’shika?” she asks him in a low tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Are they - ?”

“Yeah,” Doctor Shen responds. “I’ll let her stay until I close down for the evening.”

Din nods just as they hear what seems to be a minor explosion down the hallway. Doctor Shen almost purses her lips as she hears Garan’s familiar bellowing. There is nothing new about this situation – some idiot hunter has rightfully earned their tongue-lashing from Garan. He takes nothing from anyone, especially not hunters.

“What’s all the noise down the hallway for?”

“I don’t know,” Din says. “Maybe someone left the water on again?”

They listen for a few moments, the occasional shout drifting back to them. She turns back to Din.

“Is Paz serious?” she asks.

Doctor Shen knows you well – after all, she has been caring for you for years now. Even as a child, you tagged along after her, pestering her endlessly with your questions and tendency to injure yourself. She was there when you put your bucket on at thirteen. She watched you grow up to become a skilled, competent, and hard-working member of the tribe. It is everything that she could have wanted for you.

“Dead serious,” Din responds. “He’s been thinking about this for a while. He went to Armorer two nights ago to talk to her about courtship.”

Doctor Shen feels relief fill her stomach. If there is a hunter she trusts, it is Paz. He is a good man and will not take advantage of you. Doctor Shen knows that you are an adult, but she still sometimes sees the little girl you used to be, complete with a busted lip and two scabby knees.

“Good,” Doctor Shen says to him. “Shu’shika might be a walking disaster, but she is our most precious disaster.”

Someone taking an interest in you was bound to happen eventually. She cannot help but to be overjoyed that it is a hunter of Paz’s caliber. Before Din can respond, they hear Garan shout your name.

“Where is she?” Garan roars. “If she’s not already dying, I’m going to kill her – “

Din grabs the surly mechanic by the chest plate and shoves him back out into the hallway.

“She’s busy,” Din says in his most menacing tone. “You will leave her alone.”

Undeterred, Garan shoves him back. This time, Din slams him up against the wall, pinning him in place with one arm against his chest plate and one finger pointed at his visor.

“I. Do. Not. Care,” Din hisses.

“This is the third time her carelessness has gotten something caught on fire,” Garan growls. “That little shit – “

“That little shit is busy,” Doctor Shen says from the doorway, her voice like ice. “Go back to the kitchen and take care of the mess. I’ll send her by later.”

Garan snarls but eventually concedes. Din grabs him by the shoulder and forcefully marches him away from medical. Doctor Shen goes to listen at the door. She hears only your combined laughter. Nodding to herself, she goes back to working on cleaning the equipment.

-

-

-

Din makes sure to keep Garan going forward to avoid letting him interfere. It is rare that you and Paz can spend more than a few minutes alone, so he wants to ensure that the two of you have as long as possible to talk and get to know each other a little better.

“Why the fuck are you even involved?” Garan asks moodily.

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Din says. “Workshop, I assume?”

“Yes.”

He escorts Garan to the workshop, where they pick up the parts they will need to replace the melted circuitry and charred air vent. Din carries the bag without protest, even as Garan complains with every single step. In the karyai, they find Dezha and Armorer at the kitchen window, watching as Terys finishes putting the flames out. Jalyn is by the backmost kitchen vent, trying to waft the smell of burnt wine and sugar out with a tea cloth. Din knows better – Jalyn is just here to snoop like the shameless little gossipmonger he is. Regardless, Din shoves Garan into the kitchen and bodily blocks the doorway.

“What is the problem?” Armorer asks, looking between the two of them.

“Just making sure Garan fixes everything in time for dinner,” Din says.

“Apparently, poor wittle Shu’shika is so busy I can’t yell at her for her carelessness,” Garan snaps moodily in his direction as he starts unpacking the components onto the counter.

“Yes. She is busy,” Din confirms.

Terys puts the fire extinguisher into the cabinet. Then he looks across the counter. Din can see the wheels turning. A few seconds later, Terys looks up sharply, having come to the logical conclusion.

“Did she make her special uj with wine syrup?” Terys asks slowly.

“She didn’t clean up after herself,” Garan interrupts as he shoves a pile of dirty dishes over. “And she didn’t even leave any for us. Brat.”

“Yes,” Din confirms. “Just for him.”

Garan continues grumbling as Armorer and Dezha look at each other. They come to the same conclusion.

“I will help you tidy up,” Dezha cuts in smoothly. “We can overlook this minor mistake.”

“Again?” Garan asks, turning to Dezha. “This is the third time, Alor. This has got to stop. We can’t afford to keep replacing everything her kriffing hands touch.”

“I am aware of that,” Dezha says. “But we will overlook it this time. I’ll talk to her when she is finished.”

Din leads the cleanup effort by picking up the charred pot. He tosses it straight into the trash bin. He will have to buy a new pot before Hannah discovers one is missing. Din pauses. Then again…Hannah will overlook any mistake as long as she knows that Paz is trying to court you. Din wonders if he can enlist their cook’s help in ensuring the process is as smooth and painless as possible for the rest of the Tribe.

Armorer starts sweeping the powder from the fire extinguisher into a neat pile on the floor, while Dezha works on wiping the counters down. Jalyn just keeps fanning the acrid air toward the vent. Judging by the wide grin on his face, he seems to have caught on already, though Din cannot fathom why he is still here. At long last, Garan seems to realize that something isn’t quite right. In the middle of replacing the filter, he pauses, and looks around, slowly taking stock of his present company. Everyone is quickly working to put the kitchen back in order in time for dinner.

“Why are you all here?” Garan asks slowly.

“Good question,” Hannah says, as she puts her apron on. “Why the hell are you crowding into my kitchen, anyway? And why do I smell smoke?”

“It was a minor incident,” Armorer says, cutting Garan off. “We are rectifying the problem.”

“Minor?” Hannah asks, picking up the charred remains of her pot out of the trash. “Did Shu’shika set another pot on fire? Gods above, someone needs to have a serious talk with that girl.”

“That’s what I tried to do earlier,” Garan says, “But nooo, Din said she was too busy to get a proper tongue-lashing for her kriffing carelessness.”

Din looks at Hannah.

“Shu’shika is looking after Paz,” he says diplomatically.

Hannah blinks, turning to look at him.

“Shu’shika…and Paz?” she asks.

When Armorer nods, Garan drops his wrench onto the counter. It goes clattering onto the floor. Garan wordlessly stares at each of them in turn. The only sounds that can be heard are Jalyn’s snickers and the sound of the tea cloth he is flapping at the vent.

“You’re shitting me,” Garan says as he shakes his. “Oh, no. No, that is not happening. I absolutely forbid it.”

“And what authority would you have to interfere?” Armorer challenges immediately, coming forward a step, her hand falling to the hammer tucked into her belt.

Din cracks his knuckles threateningly, though he is certain that his muscle will not be needed here. Armorer is lethal with her hammer. Garan sinks down to a seated position on the counter and rests his face plate in his hands.

“We are not going to survive this,” Garan says in a defeated tone.

“That is an unfair over-exaggeration,” Armorer scolds. “They are good together, Garan.”

“Do we know when he intends to propose? He won’t make us – her wait too long, will he?” Hannah asks nonchalantly, as she starts sorting through the ingredients for dinner.

No one is fooled by her tone. Everyone knows where her mind is – the bonfire feast. Hell, Din has found himself thinking about what he will bring back to celebrate their marriage. He has already purchased a scope for Paz and set aside a small piece of bes’kar for you. Now, he needs to figure out what food he is bringing, but that can wait until later. He doesn’t expect the two of you to marry for at least six months, if not more.

“Paz managed to give himself a concussion before they could go on their first date,” Din says. “It isn’t happening for a few months at least.”

Hannah and Armorer both seem to sulk at his words.

“You know, it might not be so bad,” Terys says. “He’s a bit older, you know. He will look after her. Maybe get her trained up so she can actually start participating in hunts on the regular?”

“We can only hope,” Garan sighs dejectedly. “We can only hope.”

Jalyn puts the cloth down and picks up his cane. Carefully, he picks his way back to them. Din wonders what the little shit-stirrer is going to do next.

“Oooorr,” Jalyn says, somehow splitting a single-syllable word into three. “Imagine what it’s going to be like once he finally knocks her up. Can you imagine them having a few Vizla brats with his temperament and her propensity for accidental arson?”

Silence fills the kitchen. Garan lets out a low noise of distress. Armorer and Dezha exchange a look. Din thinks that any child that you and Paz name as your own will be perfect the way they are, even if they end up being prone to damaging their surroundings. Hell, under the right conditions, that could be a benefit in combat.

“Regardless of their unique personality traits,” Armorer says. “Anyone who interferes will be made to regret their actions most severely. Be sure to pass that along with your gossip, Jalyn.”

“Please, everyone here wants more children to look after,” Jalyn says dismissively. “If there was a way to get them married tonight, we would do it.”

Garan picks up the bottle of wine and checks it. There is a quarter of it left. Garan shrugs to himself and lifts the front of his bucket. He chugs the wine down straight from the bottle. He wipes his mouth with the back of his gloved hand and lets out a rude belch.

“May the gods take mercy on us,” he says.

-

-

-

demagolka - someone who commits atrocities. Paz chooses this word because they risked hurting a child just so they could carry on an affair.

[imnotwolverine]

A Devil’s Duet - Part 4

August Walker x OC Anna

Author’s note: Okay, let me just have a little party! I never thought this day would come, but: I finished a multi chapter story in 4 chapters and stayed below 6.5k words. HALLELUJAH! *gives herself a shoulder pat* I hope you enjoyed it dear readers ❤️

Word count: 2.080

Warnings: graphic scenes, strong language, severe injury through burns, death

< Part 3 | This is Part 4

.FIRE 

“My lungs drowned and as I clawed and cried, the flame in me danced a devil’s duet.”

--

.FIRE - The dance with the devil

The helicopter danced in sync with August’s groans as Anna plucked at his neck, trying to get the tracker out. 

‘See those pretty rocks below, wife? Yes? Well you better put those pretty fingers to good use.’ He snarled atop the click of the loud blades. 

For a moment Anna contemplated screwing with him, in the literal or figurative sense of those words, but having gone rogue herself now complicated things ever so slightly - she did not want to be found either. And so with those same pretty fingers, she managed to at least kill the signal for the time being, the helicopter’s dance finally ending in a dark grove where they’d stay for the night, hidden away from the world yet again. 

An abandoned small cabin made for shelter, August and Anna taking first watch as the pilot crashed with exhaustion in the small box bed in the far corner, a quick curtain drawn between them. 

Candles were lit in the hearth to get a sense of light in the pitch black hut and then they just stared. Waiting for minutes to pass. 

‘You could’ve just killed me.’ Anna whispered, staring at the flickering flames. 

‘I should have.’ 

‘You could kill me now.’ They shared a look but August just shook his stone-faced head “no”, making Anna’s head quirk in delight, her lithe figure pushing off the bench as she moved to the small open space next to their bench. August trained his eyes back on the candles, expecting her to go relief herself or something. But curiosity got the better of him when he noticed her slithering, smooth movements, gracious like a swan as she ..danced. 

‘Stop that.’ 

But all she did was turn away from him, shaking her head “no” in response, the curve of her back mostly hidden beneath a grey jumper-jacket, though it still triggered it. Memories. Smooth red fabric beneath his finger tips. ‘You can touch me, you know.’ Her voice. Deep and sultry. ‘I only take what is given to me.’ He had answered, making her chuckle as she looked over her shoulder. ‘Then take this.’ And suddenly the red fabric turned sticky with dark blood, her empty cries echoing off the tiles of that stupid fucking diner. 

He had made a mistake. 

Anna turned around, watching the stray tear that was slowly cascading down August’s solemn face. Her breath hitched in surprise, but August refused to acknowledge it, unfazed as ever, his voice soft but icy: ‘I read your files.’ 

Anna licked her cold, parched lips. ‘We’re both sore losers, hmm?’

He nodded, looking back into the flames as the tear dropped from his chiseled cheek. ‘Why a dancer though?’ 

Anna smiled, enjoying the minor crack in the devil’s mask as she settled back down besides him. ‘Some things you should not want to kill.’ She shrugged. ‘Dancing is the only thing of the real me that’s still left.’ 

--

.FIRE - The beauty of it all

‘Stop that.’ 

‘C-c-can’t.’ Anna shivered from her dead cold corner of the small bed, her skin pressed against the thin wood that separated winter from warmth. 

Sighing, the log of a man turned, pushing his hot presence into her back. ‘I don’t want freezing dead bodies in my bed.’ He whispered, inserting a warm hand beneath her much-too-thin jacket, the burning sensation making her melt into him despite her initial defiance. 

She simply didn’t want this to be her end. Not now, not yet. 

And he, for one, also seemed to burn with life, his presence poking hard and heavy into her backside. She pushed back, making him melt into her more, rough whiskers brushing over her icy cheek, a slow hot breath washing over her skin as her frozen fingers moved to his pants, tugging restlessly at the band. 

‘Aii.’ He hissed at the touch of her icicles on his skin, his hand replacing hers as he ripped their clothes aside to manage their hasty bed-bunk union. 

The night hushed around them as tempered breaths escaped their dry lips, the shared quiet maintained until his hips jerked, making her want to push him off. 

‘No, please, not..’ 

He came, forcing his way into her snugness until she got her fill. 

‘..inside.’ She groaned in silent frustration. 

August brushed his hand back over her abdomen. ‘Don’t worry. The beauty of it all is that it won’t matter.’ 

‘Well you’re not the one getting pregn..-’

‘Sshh.’ He laid his nose in the back of her neck, pulling her even closer, her usual defiance tired out after hours of shivering. By tomorrow they’d all be dead. It wouldn’t matter. None of this would matter. None of this.. 

A sniffle disturbed his hunger for destruction, the hands of his ballerina-murder-wife tugging his arm closer, a first proper hug shared. 

‘Sssh.’ He hushed, thinking of how he should not make that same devilish mistake..again. 

--

.FIRE - The spark

The signal was back and the chase was on, the woods left abandoned as they continued a hurried journey to the meeting spot, more Apostles standing at the ready to start the last day of life as we knew it. 

Anna had expected to find death somewhere in the past few hours, but she was surprised to find herself in that same helicopter again, August’s cold eyes focused on the clouds that licked around the metal hull. 

What she couldn’t see in that moment, was the turmoil in his ocean gaze. The fire that flickered nervously as it was nearly time to end it all. She couldn’t see the bitter draw of his lips as he felt a sudden reminiscence of times long gone. 

You see, August had once been no devil, but flesh and blood. 

--

.FIRE - The time of spring

‘Look mama, mama, mama.’ 

Tiny feet ran off into the flock of white danger, large wings starting to flap in warning - a warning the little boy didn’t see until he was beaten and down on the ground, fat tears burning in his blue eyes as the massive beast hissed menacingly, the mother and children slipping quickly back into the water that they called their home. 

Little August could have cried then. But he didn’t. Instead he watched in awe as these majestic white beasts stretched their mighty wings, showcasing strength in beauty, as well as family and peace, a thing that seemed hard to obtain in a world that knew only beatings, cigarette butts on skin and loud, loud cries that sang with the breaking of plates in nightly kitchens.

If it’d cost him a broken arm to feel peace, he’d do it again and again. 

--

.FIRE - I’ll rekindle the fire

Anna didn’t know when she had finally found enough peace to sleep, but apparently it had been at the wrong moment. They were back in the air, but August was gone. As was the Kashmir encampment they had been flying out to early this morning.  

Fury licked at Anna’s bones as she realised he had done worse than killing her: he had cast her aside, maybe even tried to save her. 

Oh, you’re an idiot, Walker. 

Unbuckling her belt and reeling her anger at the single soul left in this flying hull, she realised too late that this had been bad thinking on her part. The body of the pilot went limp in her fingers and the machine’s blades whirred nervously as they started to sink down through the thick clouds. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. OH YOU DUMB BITCH. 

Climbing over the seat and pushing the body aside, she eyed the buttons and levers, hands starting to pull a main lever to keep the aircraft away from the bitter cold earth. The machine protested and roared, barely agreeing with her handling until they nearly hit rock, a stone plateau appearing before her, along with unlikely faces in an even more unlikely setting. 

Hunt out cold on top, August on a ledge a few meters lower, the carcass of a fallen helicopter dangling dangerously by the help of one red hook above him. 

She should’ve flown away then. She was free now, right? But as the helicopter rocked beneath the taps of her fingertips, she got closer instead of further, the blades cutting the air that August breathed as he blinked up, his blue eyes unseeing as fire licked at his melting skin.

--

.FIRE - The do-over 

No fire here. He reached his fingertips out, expecting to find rock. But instead it was softness and warmth, the pain of the assault but a vague memory as he cracked open dry eyes. 

‘Wh..-’ His body slumped back into a pillow as it refused to move, his limbs heavy as lead. With mild frustration he watched as the world slowly unfolded around his sleep-hazed eyes; a room. A modern room, a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass offering a magnificent view over a winter white lake, which was so very different from the warm hearth burning at the opposite wall. 

A feather soft footfall walked by in what must be the hallway. Someone was there. 

Was he a prisoner? 

Grumbling to himself he found himself parched, his throat probably seared by the flames that had nearly consumed him. He couldn’t even ask for help, if he wanted to. 

‘Hey..’ A questioning voice peaked around the corner, fiery red hair and blue eyes making him feel like he was dreaming still. 

‘..you’re up early.’ She plopped down on the edge of the bed. ‘You’ve only been out for ..’ She checked her tactical watch. ‘..72 hours. Want some water?’ Without further ado she got up again, August’s hand shaking awkwardly at the simple task of holding the plastic water bottle she had offered. 

‘I was thinking about catching us something today. What do you prefer: roe or fish?’ 

August drank greedily, icy eyes watching as she bent over, stretching out before her aforementioned hunt. It was like the thirst that ached within him couldn’t be tempered, the bottle finished before she got up again, her eyebrow quirking up at his eagerness. 

‘Hmm.’ She smiled. ‘You’re one greedy devil, haha. You didn’t miss much by the way. It all ended with a fizzle.’ 

She shrugged and August blinked. 

‘Oh. And..you’re not dreaming. It’s me, remember?’ She stalked over to him and brushed some hair away from his burned face, bandages wrapped over what once had been angelic looking skin. 

That August was gone. 

August blinked again, his lips unwilling to move, his mind sticky with heavy fog. It felt like steam had risen in his bones too quickly. Like his tongue was made of boiled leather. 

‘Very well. Let’s do this again.’ She offered him her hand, his slow eyes looking down at the pale digits that hovered before him. ‘Nice to meet you. An--’ 

‘Angel.’ He finally croaked, the steam escaping from his mind as it all came back to him. Whirring rotor blades, screams, Anna dragging him over jagged rock. Pain. So much pain. And then coolness. Water. Sweet, soothing, nothingness. 

‘Naa..not any more.’ She chuckled, fetching him a new bottle of water. ‘Here. You’ll need it.’ 

--

.FIRE - I’ll dance in hell

'When I grow up I’m going to be a swan.’ Little August nodded decidedly as the doctor checked the newly set cast on the boy’s arm. 

‘Are you now?’ 

‘Yea. And I’m going to fly..and dance! And swim!’ 

‘Oh, don’t mind him. He’s a silly boy.. I doubt young boys can even BE swans, August-dear.’ His mom pulled him from the bench, making him stumble as he looked back over his shoulder at the doctor who had already turned back to his computer, his simple dream shattered before his feet reached the door. 

--

.FIRE - The swan lake 

August placed his fingers on the cold glass, the icy lake before him starting to defrost as spring was near. In the kitchen, eggs were sizzling and a soft tune rolled through muted speakers. Classical music. Worthy of the beasts that caught his eye now, their large white wings curling to stop the wind beneath them as they graciously sank into the first bit of melted water. 

Spring was here. And it was time for a new beginning, a new dance..and this time a duet perhaps. Who knows. 

--

“Then in the fire I learned, that all I craved, was water.” 

--

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[silentfcknhill]

AtLA + LoK Villains Evilness Rating

(If you wanna dispute my ratings I’ll be happy to tell you why.)

ATLA:

Ty Lee - 0.5 /10

Cinnamon roll. Too pure for this world. Naïve and will put her faith in you 100%. Kind of ditzy but can take you down with no hard feelings. Needs to be liked by everyone. Is very flexible. Can strangle you with her legs and giggle while doing it. Chooses bad friends. Has frustratingly good luck. 

Uncle Iroh- 1/10

Actual angel but could still open up a can of whoop-ass if necessary. Too supportive and forgiving. Loves tea, sitting around, speaking in proverbs and leading by example. Probably considers you a friend. Surprisingly powerful but mostly peaceful. Hard to provoke but if you do, just run. Fear the nice ones. 

Jet- 3/10

Misguided and extreme but also traumatized. Don't get in his way. Kind of twisted and obsessive af. Ends justify the means, until they don't. Needs a proper role model and has potential. Can be unreasonable and is still kind of a jerk. Will gaslight you. 

Prince Zuko- 3.5/10

Conflicted, violent and angsty but mostly needs a lot of reassurance. Has a major boner for his honor. Will freak out over nothing. Has been through a lot and will not be underestimated. Grumpy and willful af and won't listen to you until it's too late, then will blame you for misleading him. 

June- 4/10 

Might beat you up or kidnap you for money but it's nothing personal. Might insult you as a way of flirting. Looks pretty and delicate but don't be fooled. Can beat you up in a split second and not break a sweat. Will probably take all your stuff and never give it back. Lives for the tough girl aesthetic. 

Mai- 5/10

Is just bored and over it all. Throwing knives is something to do. Apathetic and will probably just follow along with whatever including murder but will complain the entire time. Emo af. Would risk it all for a quick nap. Prone to bite your head off. Too smart for you and will let you know. 

Wan Shi Tong- 6.5/10

A total dick. Tired of your shit and is judging you. Thinks humans are garbage and won't get involved with them until it suits him. Don't touch his books or he will literally eat you. Nerdiest bastard. Doesn't trust you so don't try any shit with him. Sees through your pathetic lies. Kind of an elitist.

Combustion Man- 7/10 

Thinks blowing shit up is a form of art. Doesn't believe in communication. Very serious and focused. Do not fight him. Probably gets crapped on more than he deserves. A mystery wrapped in a bald head. Probably has a tattoo of the names of all the people he's killed and he's ready to add yours. 

Hama- 7.5/10

Traumatized old hag. Created bloodbending but too crazy to do much with it now. May kidnap you and keep you in a dank hole forever. Seems sweet at first but is hiding a lot of secrets. Don't eat her cooking. Thinks sitting at home scheming is a job. Hates you for whatever small thing you did to her 57 years ago. Forgets nothing. 

Long Feng- 8/10

Conniving af. Will brainwash you, lie to your face and maybe make you disappear. Wants everything and will plot to take it all. Perfectionist and control freak, will stab you in the back and you won't see it coming. Is tired of taking everyone's shit. Thinks he deserves better but he doesn't. Kills children. 

Admiral Zhao- 8/10 

Explosive temper. Huge egomaniac and narcissist. Hates the moon. Has probably killed a lot of people and fish and you're next. Will do whatever it takes. Won't listen to anything you say. Punch first, ask questions never. Jumps to a lot of conclusions, is usually wrong. Frequently embarrasses self. 

Koh the Face-Stealer- 8.5/10 

Terrifying and will probably steal your face. Do not approach. Too indifferent to chase you but can be sneaky af so watch your back. Doesn't handle emotions well. A total loner. The guy who knows everything but nobody wants to talk to. Fear him. To know him is to hate him. Makes you question everything. 

Firelord Azulon- 9/10 

Will order your execution on a whim and maybe a relative or two first for the appetizer. Do not question him. Will play favorites and call you out on things that are his fault. Overreacts and you should probably not be around when it happens. Disapproves of all your choices and is very vocal about this fact. Forces parents to kill their children. 

Firelord Sozin- 9/10

Will commit genocide and take over the world while yelling at you for minor shit. Kind of a petty and jealous asshole. Even if you think he is your friend he isn't and is going to attack you. A big old bully with bad breath and a wonky beard. The original starter of all drama and certified instigator shitlord. 

Princess Azula- 9/10 

Unstable and manipulative. Sadist who thrives off of your fear and suffering. Will hurt you badly in all the ways. Avoid at all costs. Acts cold and calculating but really has no chill. Demands your respect but won't earn it. Trolling you gives her pleasure. The spawn of satan and loving it. Mommy issues to infinity. 

Firelord Ozai- 9.5/10

Second worst dad ever. No soul. Will burn every tree and face to a crisp. Child abuse for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Actual sociopath. Will kill someone and banish you for it. Goatee comes first. Will project all his insecurities on you. Will tell everyone your secrets. World's biggest megalomaniac. 

LOK: 

Varrick- 3/10

Will probably lie, try to con you out of money, order you to do things for him and tell bad jokes but that's as far as it's gonna go. Eccentric and annoying af. Doesn't know when to shut up. Needs to learn some lessons in life. Attracts more trouble than he's worth. Has all the good gossip somehow. 

Bataar Jr.- 3/10

The guy that nobody likes because he tries too hard and ends up ruining everything. Enjoys being a bitch. Wants to rebel but is bad at it. Do you love me now father? Tries to act like he doesn't care what you think but cares way too much. Will not kill you but might get engaged to your ex to spite you. 

Police Chief Saikhan- 3.5/10 

Will do anything you say for a price, except give a fuck. Doesn't really care about anything. Might arrest you just because he doesn't like you. The type to pretend he didn't hear you just to avoid responsibility. Likes to yell into things. Hates helping people. Is actually a giant rock in disguise. 

Tahno- 3.5/10 

A total prick. Has nicer hair than you and won't let you forget it. Very flamboyant and arrogant. Will gloat over being better than you at everything even though he cheated every time. Talks mad shit but can't walk the walk. Ultimately a big baby. Lowkey protect him. Wants to be the cool kid but isn't cool. 

Desna- 4/10

Couldn't care less. Actual inanimate object. Lurks around for no reason. Hates everything and that includes you. Listens to his elders and would probably leave you for dead. Just wants to sleep. Secretly goth. Might actually be two small robots in a trenchcoat pretending to be human. 

Councilman Tarrlok- 4.5/10

Attention whore with a savior complex. Smol bean who wants approval. Acts arrogant but is secretly depressed and self-loathing af. Stubborn and clingy emotional wreck with impulse control issues. Needs a hug. Will probably manipulate you through guilt or charisma. Wants to be Lucius Malfoy, but cries at night. 

Hiroshi Sato- 5/10

Has lost sight of what's important. Total extremist. Will get revenge on you for something you didn't even do. Well respected and seems innocent but is plotting your downfall. Can build a whole army and take you down. Kind of a traitor. Loyalty is volatile. Thinks he always knows what's best for you but doesn't know shit. 

The Lieutenant- 5/10

In way over his head. Wants to make a difference but has let bitterness take over. Will probably electrocute you. Puts his faith in the wrong people. Kind of snobby and will hold a grudge. 99 problems and benders are about 98 of them. Tired of being pushed around but still lets himself be pushed around. FLOPPY MUSTACHE. 

Aiwei- 5.5/10 

Thinks he's better than you and probably isn't. Wants to be sneaky but really is just too predictable. Boring af and tries to be unique but fails miserably. Lets everyone take advantage of him. Don't lie to him. Will harbor resentment and take it out on you at a random point in time. Discount Long Feng but not as smart or ambitious. 

Eska- 5.5/10

Will stalk you aggressively. Thinks slavery is a relationship. Eyeliner sharp enough to kill. Never betray her or she will destroy you. Might use you as a footstool. Seems emotionally dead inside, but don't test her dormant waters. Uses everyone and feels no guilt. Hipster trash. No concept of boundaries or social interaction. 

Ghazan- 6/10

Sarcasm game strong enough to fatally wound you. Doesn't say much. Has tree trunks for limbs and will probably use them to throw lava and rocks at you. Lowkey protective af. Don't get on his bad side. You can't get on his good side. Would rather kill everyone including himself than let you win an argument. 

Zaheer- 6/10

A wannabe hippie but will still fight the system and you too. Don't try to control him. Gets annoyed when people breathe too loud. Is kind of a contradiction. Will literally blow you away. Anarchy equals freedom. Fuck the police. Can sit in the same spot for a really long time. Probably a flat earther. 

Ming-Hua- 7/10

Has a significant disability but can still easily slaughter you. Innovative and sneaky af. As fast and agile as an actual lemur. A natural disaster wherever she goes. Doesn't listen to your advice. Overcompensates a lot. Probably her own worst enemy. Is quiet and likes to eavesdrop on your business. 

Kuvira- 7.5/10 

Wants to control everything. Who invited her to poop the party? Highkey evil and just plain mean. Will use your corpse as a decoration if you get in her way. Secretly petty and superficial af. Thinks social bonding is trying to seduce you in order to take charge of your life. Individuality punishable by death. Even other villains hate her. 

P'Li- 7.5/10

Can explode you with her mind. Her gaze will pierce you to the core. Strong independent and violent woman who don't need a man but chooses to have one anyway. Will shave you off just like the sides of her hair. Has no problem fucking shit up. Boss bitch. Loyal to only a select few, so too bad for you. 

Amon- 8/10

Charismatic but scary and mysterious af. Huge hypocrite. Will silently judge you. Powerful, selfish and cruel. Manipulative as hell and uses intimidation to get you to comply. Pretends to have empathy but really just wants control. Will cripple you physically and emotionally without warning. Knows all of your weaknesses but none of his own. 

Earth Queen Hou-Ting- 8.5/10 

The actual worst. Eats your pets for supper. Her yelling is the #1 cause of deafness worldwide. Will keep you prisoner and then have you killed for looking at her. The bossiest Drama Queen ever. Will be the cause of all your misery and will be proud of it. Bark is the same as her bite. Lots of daddy issues. 

Chief Unalaq- 9/10 

Religious extremist. Actually batshit insane. Wants to destroy the entire world. Has ascended from this pathetic plane of human existence. Loner whose only friends are invisible. Wants you to think he's just shy and misunderstood but NOPE. Knows what you want to hear and says it. Will sell you to satan for one cornchip. 

Yakone- 9.5/10

Worst dad ever. Will either bloodbend you, try to live vicariously through you or both. Absolutely no redeeming traits except for being physically human. Abuse equals tough love. Might beat your ass for no good reason and expect your gratitude for it. Criminal mastermind with no conscience and all of the entitlement. 

Vaatu- 10/10

Actually the devil. Literal incarnation of darkness and chaos. Ultimate troll and force of disaster in the world. Doesn't know any better, but still an asshole by choice. Will use you until you're no longer of value. Has a hard-on for destruction. Likes to play the victim. Will consume your soul and burp loudly.

[catracorner962]

Cherished After All

Cleaning up Shadow Weaver's belongings, Adora and Catra make a shocking discovery about Catra's past. A past she never knew.

Or: My take on how Catra ended up in the Horde.

It was bitter, exhausting work. Cleaning out Shadow Weaver’s belongings from the palace. Glimmer had repeatedly offered to have someone do it for them but Adora and Catra were determined to sort through the stuff themselves. It would be fine. There weren’t many items anyway and according to Perfuma it might help bring some catharsis and closure. Catra wasn’t too sure about that, but Adora agreed it would be better for them to do it and so, she conceited.

“She really didn’t have much stuff,” Adora mused, crouched in Shadow Weaver’s old room, over a single chest. Most of the items were innocuous. Several changes of robes, a handful of coins.

“Psh yeah,” Catra scoffed from where she stood, looking out the window at the gardens. “The only thing that old hag ever cared about was the Black Garnet and the last piece of that was in her mask. Which got blown up with the rest of her.” The magicat’s tail twitched at the thought, her lips curling into a resentful smile. Still….a bit of sadness lingered. A sadness Catra knew Adora harborded too. She hated it. Hated herself for feeling anything other than satisfaction at the demise of the only mother figure either of them had ever known.

She hurt you….hurt Adora. Why do you cry for her?

Even Perfuma couldn’t answer that.

Back by the trunk, Adora rummaged through belongings, throwing the robes around without much care. A book, bound in leather with First One’s writing on it.

“It’s a spell book,’ she murmured aloud. Fingers gracing the pages. “Who knows what’s in here?!”

“Adora…” Catra warned, dragging herself back to the task at hand.

“Alright, alright, I’ll give it to Glimmer,” Adora set the book down. “Maybe she and Micah can use it.” She turned back to the trunk, hand fumbling against the flat bottom of the wood.

“What’s this?” Adora curled her fingers around a small metal item.

“It looks like one of Entrapta’s recorders,” Catra peered over her shoulder. “But slightly bigger. There’s a button on it,” she pointed. The two of them exchanged the all too familiar “let’s-do-it,” look. Adora pressed her thumb into the single red button on top. A faded red light blinked, projecting a fuzzy hologram before them. Adora squinted, trying to make out the images. Only static sounded through the small speakers.

Two people...a tail? No...two tails...and? Are those…?

Adora’s eyes flitted from the static images of the hologram to Catra. Her own tail was swiping back and forth intrigued. Her ears perked forward.

No...it couldn’t be... No one knew anything about Catra’s species. She herself never expressed any curiosity in knowing...only bitter resentment at her more feline characteristics, thanks to Shadow Weaver.

“H..hello?”

Adora’s attention drew back to the two figures, one of whom spoke in a male voice.

“Is...is it working?”

The second figure, also male, asked.

The image fuzzed and spluttered, in and out.

“If...if you’re seeing this...it...it means you’ve found her.”

Adora leaned closer, the hologram slowly becoming more clear. Two male figures...two male figures with ears and tails like Catra. The one speaking...he was crying. His clothes in tatters. The second one looked no better, but he held something to his chest. A bundle.

“There’s no chance for her here,” the first one spoke in breathy gasps. “If..If she stays with us...she’ll…” The second magicat, the one holding the bundle reached out and gripped the other’s arm tightly. He too, was in tears. 

“Please…,” he begged. “We can’t feed her...we can’t take care of her.. Horde Prime..he...he destroyed everything.” The magicat held whatever it was to his chest with a desperation that made Adora’s heart ache. Realization slowly dawning on her. Catra betrayed no such epiphany. Her face...showed nothing. Stone cold.

“We haven’t even named her,” the first one glanced down at the bundle, smiling through her hurried breaths. He reached out, placing one clawed hand atop of it and stroked it gently.

“Kitten,” he whispered. The second man held the baby close to him, looking directly at Adora.

“Please, have mercy on her. Give her food and a bed...that’s more than we have. And when...when she’s old enough please show her this...so...so..” he heaved for air. “So she knows we loved her.”

Adora’s own eyes sparked with tears, looking helplessly at the two desperate magicats and the thing in their arms.

“Kitten, if you ever see this,” the first one began, nearly choking on his words. 

“Know that we love you. We love you so much; with all our hearts… that is why we can’t keep you. With the Horde...you...you have a chance….for some sort of life. That’s all we have to give you.”

The second magicat, the one holding the kitten, buried his face into the bundle for a moment, lifting his head eventually. Adora nearly gasped, his eyes...blotchy with tears..they were two different colors. One gold, one blue.

“We love you. We are so proud of you….we…”

The recording fizzed and went blurry. Shorting out.

“No!” Adora panicked, pressing the button fervently. “No, no, no! There’s gotta be more! There has to be…”

The hologram re-appeared. Only this time the two magicats had set the bundle down inside a small box. They each kissed it lovingly. Checking and rechecking the blanket it was swaddled in. The hologram broke out again, then came back. Only this time a baby’s face, thin with signs of unger but serene in blissful sleep, sucked at the end of her stubby tail.

A runt, Adora recalled Shadow Weaver’s exact words.

The image of Catra as an infant lingered for a moment, then the hologram cut out for good.

Adora braced herself, turning to Catra slowly. Eyes wide in shock, she starred forward as though the hologram was still playing.

“Catra….?”

“I…” she whispered. “I...ha...had parents,” she stated monotone. “They didn’t abandon me….th..they loved me.”

“Oh Catra, of course they loved you.” Adora wiped her eyes with the back for her sleeve. One hand reaching out to take her girlfriend’s.

“Shadow Weaver,” Catra’s tone shifted instantly to hatred. “She knew...she knew all this time.” She began to tremble, fists curled.

“Come here,” Adora offered, standing and wrapping her arms around Catra. She remained stiff but didn’t push away. Adora held her tightly, one hand rubbing her back carefully, the other stroking through her short hair. She could feel Catra’s heart racing and her body shaking.

“She knew…” Catra whispered, broken. Tears coming to those heterochromatic eyes...just like her father. “That bitch!” Adora patted her back more incessantly as Catra tightened her grip on Adora’s shoulders, her claws retracted thankfully...but her grip was tight, clinging.

“She knew this whole time and she never told me! She said she found me in a box, abandoned and left half-dead at the edge of the Fright Zone.” Catra was fully crying now, burying her face into Adora’s neck.

“Shhh….they loved you Catra...they loved you so much and so do I.”

Catra sniffed, sinking into Adora’s chest.

“The day Shadow Weaver found you in that box,” Adora sniffled through her own crying, “was the happiest day of my life.”

She rubbed small circles around Catra’s shoulder blades, holding her as they sunk to the floor together. “I didn’t know it at the time but it was.”  She could feel Catra nod against her but didn’t say anything more.

“I should’ve known…” Catra whispered, “should’ve trusted that hag….I could’ve found them Adora! I could’ve saved them!” She adjusted her hold on Adora, slumping from a hug farther into Adora until she curled all the way in her lap. Adora held her, tenderly cradling her there the way she should’ve always been comforted. The way both of them should’ve always been comforted as children.

“You already did save them Catra. Look at you! You grew up, you became the Leader of the Horde! You saved all of Etheria! Think of how many parents get to live with their kids now because of what you did!”

Catra withdrew from her chest, face gaunt with grief but somehow still resembled that little peaceful face sleeping in her swaddling.

Adora reached a hand up to Catra’s cheek, caressing her there.

“They would be so proud of you.”

Catra smirked,

“What?”

“Those were Shadow Weaver’s last words to me,” she whispered, the hatred gone from her tone. Her voice now breathy and exhausted. “I’m so proud of you Catra. It was probably a lie.”  Adora looked down at the magicat, her fingers gingerly stroking her velvet ears. She bent down, leaning over her until her lips graced against Catra’s ear.

“ I’m proud of you Catra. Your parents...wherever they are. They would be proud of you too, and they loved you.”

She didn’t know what else to say truly. What could she say? It was true. Catra had not been abandoned. Catra only curled around Adora more, burying her face into her stomach. She took the hologram device with twitching hands, holding it against her chest.

“Adora? Catra? George and Lance are here! Come say hello!”

Adora instantly tightened her grip on Catra, pulling her closer instinctively to protect her in this vulnerable moment.

“W...we’ll be right there!”

Too late, shimmer pink sparkles appeared before them. Catra shot up, hissing. Pocketing the hologram device. Glimmer materialized instantly.

“George and Lance! They’ve come to help us clean things up and…” the words died on her face as her eyes shifted between the two.

“Did...did I...interrupt something?” Glimmer asked hesitantly. She gave Adora a silent look, trying to ask what was going on without Catra noticing.

“Yes, Sparkles,” Catra grumbled, composing herself with practiced skill Adora had watched her perfect in the Horde.

“S...sorry I d..didn’t,”

“It’s fine,” Catra pushed past the princess towards the main corridor of the castle. Adora offered Glimmer an apologetic smile, fighting the urge to explain what had happened.

It’s not your place to say. It’s Catra’s.

“Catra! Hello!”

Adora watched as Catra managed a wave. Bow’s fathers threw their arms around her, hugging her tight. The magicat stiffened at first, waiting for them to withdraw their hold. They did, after a moment. Lance looked at her, brows furrowing with concern.

“Catra, honey? What’s wrong?”

Adora and Glimmer approached as Catra tried to fumble for an explanation. The two men enveloping her in a hug once more. Between the men’s loving embraces Adora watched Catra close her eyes, sniffing to suppress her tears. Her own heart inflated with bittersweet emotion watching Catra slowly return their gesture, her arms going around them.

“It’s just...good to see you,” Catra remarked, straightening herself. She offered a small smile.

---

Entrapta fixed the hologram device some days later. Adora brought it to her asking her to transfer the files from the old device to a new one. Despite Entrapta’s eager questioning, Adora did not tell her what the hologram actually contained. She eventually relented, transferring the data in a blink of an eye.

“Here you go. Just let me know how it turned out so I can jot it down for my notes!”

Adora agreed, thanking her and going off to find Catra.

Catra accepted it with a sad smile, playing the first few moments before switching it off.

“If you’re seeing this...it’s because you found her,”

Adora blinked awake, feeling around for where Catra should’ve been. She shot up, looking around in a hurry.

“Catra?!”

“We love you...we love you so much.”

Adora sighed, the glow of the hologram reflecting off the walls. Catra sat perched on their window seat. Watching unblinking at the hologram of her fathers. Adora tip-toed up behind her, winding her arms around the magicat lovingly and resting her chin on her shoulder. She placed a tender kiss on her temple.

The recording played on. Catra watched it once, then again, and again. She rarely cried when she did so. But when she did, allow the tears to fall, allow herself to be held and comforted, Adora was there for her, clutching her tight.

“If they never brought me to the Horde,” Catra whispered one night as they sat in bed, watching the image of her parents, “I...I never would’ve met you.” She pressed the hologram off. Surrounding the two of them in darkness. Catra’s eyes found Adora’s in the dark. Adora leaned down, winding her arm around Catra’s waist and pulling her close. She kissed her sweetly on the lips.

“That is true,” Adora murmured, not knowing what else to say. Catra smiled returning her kiss.

“I guess I’m glad they brought me to the Horde then. Even if it was horrible. Can you imagine if they brought me to Bright Moon?”

“You might’ve been raised a princess,” Adora giggled at the thought.

“Gross don’t make me puke.”

Catra let out a sigh, sad but content, pressing herself closer to Adora.

“I love you,” Adora murmmed. Catra answered, tucking her head under the other girl’s chin. Her tail wrapping around Adora’s leg.

“Maybe they aren’t dead. Maybe they made it,” Catra whispered after a time. “...I could find them and then...then we could find your parent’s too.”

Adora had never entertained the thought. She always assumed them dead or lost in some galaxy far far away outside Despondos.

“I’d like that,” Adora answered. “Can you imagine introducing your parent’s to She-Ra?” Adora laughed. Catra giggled too, and Adora’s heart exploded with fireworks. Making Catra laugh was something she never got tired of. They laughed the night away, imagining the thought of their parent’s meeting. Introducing each other. Giggling through their shared sorrow. Through the uncertainty. After all that was their specialty.

“Your old family, your parents.” Adora whispered, watching Catra’s tail twitch in her sleep. Trying to come up with the right words. Transforming such thoughts into speech was not her strong suit. She knew it. But here sleeping beside Catra as she slept Adora needed to say it.

“They...they brought you to the Horde, which brought us together and now...despite everything else you...you have a family again.”

Catra only continued to slumber, snoring lightly.

“Me, and Bow, George, Lance, Scorpia, Micah, Entrapta, Glimmer, we’re your family Catra and we love you. Just like your parents did.”

Adora startled, as one golden eye opened, looking at her. Catra shifted curling even smaller into her embrace.

“I love you too…..I love all of you.”

THE END

[mamabear-elinor]

THE FORGING OF BITTER BONDS

IV. The Winter’s Ball December 19, 1992

[cw for a comment on weight/body image, blood, violence (just a punch)]

“Mother, I cannot wear this,” Elinor wrinkled her nose in the direction of the dress bag that she was holding in her hands, a monstrosity of ice coloured lace and tulle spilling from it, as if the bag could not contain its contents. 

Elinor was standing in the middle of her mother’s suite at their hotel across from the ballroom that the Order always rented for the Winter’s Ball. It should be noted that she was barefoot. Una Briar sat at her vanity, looking at her eldest daughter in the mirror with a pinched expression.

“Why are you not ready?” she asked, as if she had not heard Elinor’s protest. She probably hadn’t. Una never heard anything that she didn’t want to. It was what made her so impossible to argue with. So hard to rile. Elinor was convinced her temper was all Briar. Her mother was as unfeeling as stone. 

“I can’t wear this!” Elinor repeated. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, unless you’ve gained weight since starting university. I had you measured on fall break. The tailor is never wrong.”

“No--I don’t--I mean it’s hideous. I won’t be able to dance in this! I’ll look like--like an icicle.”

Una stood from her vanity and moved towards Elinor, taking the dress bag from her and pulling the dress out. “Undress,” she commanded.

“Ma--” 

“Do you want another chance with Mr. Smith or do you want to disappoint me? Your father? Your sister? Again?” 

Elinor’s cheeks flamed red and she reluctantly dropped her robe and pulled her shift up over her head. Her mother held out the gown expectantly and Elinor stepped into it, letting the itchy fabric be drawn up over her thighs, scraping at her stomach. It felt like rolling in a patch of nettle. She reached over and adjusted her bust as her mother tugged at the zipper. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and sucked in a breath, trying not to cry. 

It wasn’t that Elinor hated dresses. She just hated this one. And she--didn’t want to go to the ball. The expectations her family had were as constraining as the tightness around her ribs as she was stuffed into the dress.

“There,” Una hummed, coming around to Elinor’s front and brushing some of her hair back from her face. “You look beautiful, Mr. Smith won’t be able to say no.”

Elinor was not as confident, but she allowed her mother to fuss over her for a few moments more and then watched as she pinched her own cheeks in the mirror and they headed out of the door. 

The ballroom was painted in low light of orange and blue. Real candles flickered and cool tones from the decor gave the whole thing a cool, hushed atmosphere. There were several people already mingling and men in waiter’s suits who stepped up to take her fox fur coat. She drifted behind her parents and sisters, fiddling with the silver necklace around her throat. It was one that Francis had given her. She hadn’t taken it off since then, even after they had broken up. Part of her still clung to a bit of hope, not matter how she argued with her parents otherwise. How could she not? They were so insistent that she just needed to find him. Talk to him. Tell him about how she would be transferring to Oxford--

“Ellie!” A flash of red and someone slammed into her side, grabbing her arm. “Gosh, I missed you so much. You look amazing!”

Elinor snorted. “Goldie, I just saw you on Thursday.” She felt a warm rush of affection for her friend, though, and clung back to her. If she had Marigold at her side, then she wouldn’t be alone in this. Though, she felt guilty, because she hadn’t found a way to tell Marigold that she was not going back to Edinburgh in the spring. She hadn’t told Sorcha either. Or her professors. Or anyone else. It would have ruined it. She had just wanted to enjoy what she had left. 

“So? I know you missed me too.” Goldie tossed some of her hair.

“Yes, alright. I did.” 

“Good, now let’s grab some champagne.” 

The girls made their way around the room, chatting with their peers, catching up with everyone. The Order only gathered together like this twice a year or during Christenings of new sons of the Order. Or for the King’s Melee. The women did not spend much time together otherwise. The men trained together as squires. Went on hunts together. Their bonds were always much stronger. That was, until you married into a family. Then those women became your friends. Elinor and Marigold were so close because they had always felt like kindred spirits, and made sure to keep in touch outside of these other events. Now that they went to school together, they were closer than ever.

Which just made Elinor feel worse about keeping her silence. As they made their way around, Elinor sticking quiet and close to Marigold’s shining aura, she felt awful. Her champagne bubbling uncomfortably in her gut. 

They were standing with a group of girls, Marigold’s head thrown back, laughing loud and bold enough to draw a few eyes when someone approached, attention clearly caught. Thomas Harrington. Elinor knew him, of course she did. He had already completed his Blood Hunt and was a proper Prince. He was also Francis’ best friend. 

“Marigold DunBroch,” he said, his voice a bit too soft. He cleared his throat. 

Marigold’s head whipped towards him, eyes sparking. “Marigold DunBroch is what my Ma calls me when I’m in trouble.” 

“Marigold, then.” 

“I suppose.” Marigold took a drink, but her blue eyes hadn’t left Thomas’ face, though his own eyes darted around a bit. When he looked at Elinor, standing at Marigold’s side, she lifted her eyebrows.

“May I--may I have this dance?” 

A few girls around them tittered. 

“Sure,” Marigold, shrugging a shoulder coyly, though Elinor could tell she was pleased. 

Elinor tried to be pleased as well. If Marigold and Thomas danced and became something and Francis took Elinor back, they could all be the greatest of friends. It was a fantasy, long reaching, but it comforted Elinor just the same. 

“Here, Ellie.” Marigold held out her glass for Elinor to take and slipped her hand into Thomas’, so he could lead her out onto the dance floor.

“I can’t believe he asked a DunBroch to dance,” one of the girls, a de Chateaupers, if Elinor remembered correctly, sniffed. 

Elinor cut her eyes towards her. “Maybe because he doesn’t want to dance with someone who looks like they ran face first into a wall,” she snapped viciously at the blonde and then moved off in a huff. 

“What’s her problem?” Elinor heard as she moved away. She whipped through the crowd, though not as fast as she liked, her dress trailing behind her like a ball and shackle. Its train was heavy and cumbersome. She looked over her shoulder to tug it out from under the foot of a large man, causing her to bump right into someone. 

“Oh, I am so sorry--Francis.” Elinor would recognize those blue eyes she was looking into anywhere.

“Elinor,” he greeted her back, his shoulders straight as she stood tall. “I hope you are well.”

“Well enough,” she told him, trying to remember how she was supposed to be acting. For all she wanted to do was slap him across the face. The urge rose suddenly and she curled her hand into a fist. “And you?”

“Well, thank you.”

There was an awkward beat. Francis looked out to the dance floor. “Would you like to dance? I--think we have a few things to talk about.”

No, Elinor wanted to snarl, but she did as she always did--as she had always been taught: she took a breath and smiled. For just a moment, she wished her teeth were fangs. She wanted to be the thing that frightened men. “You honour me,” she told him. Her voice sounded robotic, but she kept smiling graciously and took his hand. 

He led her onto the floor and placed his hand on her waist. Last year, at the Winter’s Ball, his hand had strayed below where was appropriate and she had stepped on his toes in return with a laugh and a blush, before he’d pulled her into a darkened corridor and stole kisses from her lips.

Since then, he had stolen much more from her. Elinor hated him. Being in his arms now, it made her feel as if she was going to explode. Still, she smiled. “How is school?” 

“Good, thank you.” He told her with a nod. “And you?”

“It’s wonderful. I am having a marvelous time.” This was easy to say. It was the truth and she wanted him to be hurt by it. 

He nodded, still not quite looking at her. “Elinor, I have something to tell you.”

“Alright, tell me then.” Her voice had an edge to it, even though she kept smiling. She tried to remember what her mother taught her: a lady does not frown, a lady always smiles, a lady defers to a man’s wants, a lady dances smoothly, a lady can do all of these things no matter what. The world could be ending, but a lady never has a hair out of place or anything but a smile. 

“I am engaged.” 

Elinor’s feet stopped. She planted herself on the floor and felt as if she had become one of the ice statues that were sweating on the edges of the ballroom. “What?” 

“I am engaged to be married. I need my necklace back. It’s a family heirloom, you know. I need to give it to my bride.” 

Elinor didn’t think, she just reacted. Let her heart guide her.

And her heart told her to punch this bastard in the face.

So that was what she did. The crack of flesh hitting flesh was the loudest thing in the room. Something crunched and Elinor’s hand began to throb, a sharp pain shooting all the way down to her elbow. She hissed a breath and stumbled backward the same time that Francis did, holding a hand up to his nose. Elinor saw a flash of bright red amongst the twirling blues, whites, and golds. 

“You bitch!” Francis shouted, but it came out slurred from behind his hand as he tilted his head forward. 

Elinor didn’t know why, but she started to laugh. 

“Shut up!” Francis snarled at her. 

Stumbling backward again, she tripped on the train of her own dress and then fled, turning down the very same corridor that Francis himself had led her down a year ago. She moved through the hall before opening a random door and shutting it behind herself. Once she was alone, the laughter turned to a sob and Elinor’s eyes began to burn with tears. She crossed the room, throwing open the double doors and stumbling out onto the balcony, catching herself on the railing. She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. 

Instead, she pressed her head against the cool marble of the railing and sucked in the cool night air. 

“That was the worst fookin’ punch I have ever seen in me life.” 

Elinor whirled around at the sound of a gruff voice behind her, reaching up simultaneously to scrub at her cheeks. “Fergus, go away,” she hiccuped, trying to look as vicious as she had felt just minutes before when she had punched Francis. The fire had gone out, though, and the humiliation smarted something awful. Especially now that her best friend’s older brother had found her and was probably going to drag her back into the ball kicking and screaming. Or worse, go and get her mother. 

He did neither of those things. Instead, he just chuckled and held his hands up in surrender before moving towards the balcony railing. “I am just sayin’ you clearly haven’t ever punched anyone in your life.” 

“Of course I haven’t,” Elinor scoffed, her voice wobbling. She watched him wearily as he moved to lean against the railing. He didn’t seem perturbed by her tears, she supposed she was grateful for that. 

“You have a good reason?” 

“Of course I did,” Elinor snapped before turning slightly so that she could wipe her eyes with her fingers. Fergus, notably, did not offer her a handkerchief. Instead, he just cocked his head at her, red hair washed out in the dark light. She stuck out her chin and took a deep, steadying breath. She didn’t want him to know that she was nervous. Elinor had only been alone with one boy--man--before and when she had darted her eyes about, he had stepped closer. What had been a reckless, fluttering, foolish heart, now felt somewhat sturdier, thanks to Francis. 

“How did you find me?” she demanded when she looked back over at Fergus. 

“The breeze.” He shrugged.

“What?” 

“The windows let in a draft. No other drafts in the hallway except the one coming from this room.” 

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” 

He nodded as if this was obvious. “Your hand alright?” 

“What? Oh--” Elinor looked down at her hand, flexing it once. It smarted, but she didn’t think there was any permanent damage done. “I think so.” 

“Good.” Fergus stood up to his full height. He was not much taller than her, but he was broad enough that he blocked out the light of the moon. His own fist raised between them. “Next time--”

“There won’t be a next time,” Elinor protested, her cheeks heating. 

He held her gaze for a moment. “Next time, put your thumb over your fingers and squeeze down on your middle finger with it. Hit with the knuckle of your middle finger, aye?” 

Much of its own accord, her hand made a fist, copying his and then raising it up for approval. Fergus stepped forward and reached up to adjust her fingers. His hands were big, warm, and calloused, but they moved gently. “There ya are. Now, I’ll give you a few minutes. If I were you, I’d sneak out the back and head to the hotel. Your ma is on a warpath. I’ve seen men quiver less in their boots when facing down a Fear Gorta.” 

That surprised a laugh out of Elinor. She reached up to put a hand on her chest. Her fingers brushed the cool tip of metal from Francis’ necklace. Slipping her hands behind her neck, she unclasped it and then weighed it in her hand for a moment before turning toward the balcony again. She tossed it into the darkness. When she turned back, Fergus was staring at her again.

“What? Are you going to criticize my throwing arm now?” The words were between a challenge and a tease. 

“No, no. That, uh, was an impressive throw. I’ll...take my leave of ya now, lass. Good luck.”

Elinor smiled a bit and it was her first true one of the night. “Thank you. Good night.”

[winterromanov]

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

-

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

-

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

-

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow. 

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

-

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

-

hello y/n 

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally 

whenever ur not ar oUnd 

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there 

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo 

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

-

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

-

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure. 

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner. 

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal. 

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

-

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

-

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time. 

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home. 

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

:)

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

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[memoirsofabasicbitch]

The thing is, I’m not entirely sure I remember how to dream. How to write. How to imagine anything independently of a world created by someone else, in their mind.

I’ve grown so used to hanging my dreams on what other people have created for me that I don’t know if that person is still in there.

That weird little girl, who peeled acorns for squirrels, and walked in circles over and over and over again on the roots of the big oak tree. She had a big imagination. She told herself all sorts of stories.

Was it just because I couldn’t play the other games? Too slow - reflexes and running. Too weak - climbing, throwing, running, playing.

(Or was it because I wasn’t allowed to — couldn’t — play those games? I have a few dim memories of trying to play and being sent away. They’re dim though. I stopped asking.)

Or was it simply that I was filling time? Waiting until I could go back into a world I could navigate a little better than the playground?

Sometimes, though, I was waiting. Hoping, really.

More than a few times.

A lot.

I hoped, I thought, maybe - maybe if I walk in the right way, I’ll hear the trees laughing, like Anne told Diana about. Maybe they’ll talk to me. Maybe a faerie will come creeping out from a little crevice and wave, winking. Maybe a squirrel will come crawling down the wrinkled bark while I watch, and take the little heap of acorn meat I’d left for him. Maybe there’s a tiny scrap of magic somewhere in the world that I just haven’t found yet.

I haven’t had dreams for a long time. That’s what happens when your dreams have expiration dates. I’ve already missed most of mine.

Never really even came close.

I had a “schedule” that makes me want to cry to think of it. Meet someone in college or shortly after. Get married by 25, so we would have a few years together after college. Have our first child by 27, because mom always said I should start having babies by 30 if I really wanted to have more than one and space them out.

I’m 28. I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone, romantic or platonic. I’ve never had a best friend who would place me on the same importance as I would them.

I have borderline personality disorder. I have adhd. I am on the autism spectrum. I have depression and anxiety so severe they cripple me. More than one of these things may be false. The symptoms are nearly indistinguishable once you have more than 2. No one will give me a straight answer, and no two doctors can agree.

Added onto years of emotional and mental abuse - which is what it was, wasn’t it. Maybe because I’m autistic, maybe it really was that bad. Neglect, sure. Public humiliation, that happened too, I’m pretty sure. Being told flat out that I was stupid and fat and ugly and I was lucky to have any friends at all so maybe I should just shut up and sit down before I ended up with none.

I’m pretty sure that happened. I don’t really remember it though. I don’t really have any memories at all.

Supposedly that’s something that happens with “complex post traumatic stress disorder,” which generally crops up when a person is systematically ground down for a long time until there is nothing left but the stories they told themselves when they tried to explain to the fake audience in their head who they were. How they got that way.

I don’t know who I was, who I could have been if I hadn’t had the life I did. Maybe my memories are skewed.

My therapist didn’t seem to think so, but she also sometimes seemed to think I was full of shit. That’s probably me reading too much into things again. That’s what I do.

Was it really that bad? I remember a lot of screaming, and crying, and hiding, and wishing I was dead or that someone would just hit me already so I would have something to say, to tell people other than “they yell at me and make me cry and sometimes they grab my arms and shake me and sometimes they tell me they’ll throw me out onto the street to fend for myself and sometimes they tell me they love me so much they’re so sorry and then sometimes they cry”.

But how much of that was me? How much was that my perception of things? Am I really that crazy, or have I really been gaslit that much? Is it gaslighting if they didn’t even realize how much pain they caused you, which is why they say “it wasn’t that bad stop exaggerating”?

Did I imagine all of it?

If I did, if I didn’t, what was real? What had the weight I felt it carry? What should have been a minor blip in my life but instead metastasized into a catastrophe?

I don’t know. Maybe I never knew. Reality hasn’t ever been my friend.

Fantasy is so much better.

It’s painful now, though. To read some of these stories, these books I used to adore.

Stories about Mature Adult Women of 25! Whole! Years! Going on adventures and meeting their soulmates and having wonderful happy lives.

I’m spiraling. It’s late. I’m tired and a little high, wishing I was higher and maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.

Bilbo was middle aged, wasn’t he? When he went on his adventure? He had an adventure, and then he came home and had a long, rich, happy, lonely, bitter life. Hmm. Perhaps the one ring is not the best foundation for a guiding principle.

I went to law school because I’d come to the end of every plan I actually had. (You don’t really plan for a future when you’ve been suicidal since before puberty.) I figured I’d get to read and write at least reasonably interesting things, make good money, maybe even make a difference.

I’ve been a paralegal for the same law firm I worked for right out of college for two years now and I have never felt more like a shambling corpse.

When I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a job. Could I have tried harder? Sure. Is executive dysfunction a bitch? You bet.

So I worked for a family friend’s law firm. Personal injury and medical malpractice. She’s the mother of my older sister’s oldest best friend and has employed all of my mother’s three daughters.

She’s also a heinous bitch and a terrible boss. Her employees have a shelf life of about 2 years. I’ve hit my expiration date. Once you’ve audibly cried during a phone conference, you’re really near the bottom. Once she decides you suck at your job, there’s no coming back. Either you quit or you get fired. She prefers when people quit so she can blame them and not feel guilty. So she just increasingly treats people worse and worse until they quit in self defense.

I worked for her for a year. It was awful. I became an alcoholic and gained 25+ lbs.

I decided to go to law school.

I moved to New Orleans.

I made friends. I had an apartment all to myself. I had a life I actually enjoyed.

Then I graduated.

And I couldn’t get a job again.

(Of course, all of this is underpinned with my cyclical periods of intense illness, often accompanied by being hospitalized and missing long periods of school. In college and in law school, actually.)

(All the cocaine and drinking didn’t help either.)

(Ah, New Orleans. How I miss thee.)

So I ended up at the same firm again. Living with my parents. Again.

Then I passed the bar.

Now I’m doing the same work as my younger sister, for the same amount of money. (When she graduated from her masters program and was unemployed for 6 months, I convinced my boss to hire my younger sister again, and my sister to work for my boss again after a semi-disastrous summer job.)

(To be fair, while I’m technically a licensed attorney, she has a masters in education, so it’s not like there’s a massive education disparity here.)

(It doesn’t help that I’m barred in a different jurisdiction than the one my firm typically works in, so there aren’t any cases I can really work on as an attorney, and then on top of that my bosses don’t want to pay for malpractice insurance for me so I’m not allowed to practice as an attorney or put that I’m an attorney or call myself an attorney or even put in my letterhead that I’m licensed in the District of Columbia.)

Then there was a pandemic, and I decided I probably shouldn’t try to make a huge life change during a pandemic.

The pandemic is still fucking here. Nearly. Two. Years. Later.

So I guess I have to make a new plan.

Can I be a lawyer? I guess we’ll see.

I don’t really want to, though. I’m burned out and I wasn’t even practicing.

I want to move to a beach and write a novel and actually have a life I enjoy.

The problems with this plan are numerous. Not only is inertia an incredibly powerful enemy of mine, but I’ve lost all imagination.

I cannot imagine a future in which I am happy. Will I kill myself? Probably not, at least not for a long while. I’ve thought too long and hard about the long-lasting, far-reaching repercussions it would have. (Say what I will about my family, at least it’s always been clear that my death is NOT an acceptable outcome.)

I want to find my imagination again. I want to be able to imagine not only a future in which I am happy, but other futures, other worlds. I want to be able to dream, not only for me, not only for reality, but for unreality. I want to create worlds in my mind again, and allow them to take whatever shapes they wish.

I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if all those horrible teachers, all those “peer editors” in fucking elementary school were right, and my story ideas are hackneyed and overwrought.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if they were wrong. Wouldn’t it be nice, to start writing, and to find that my imagination didn’t go so very far.

It’s been hiding in the intertwined branches of a birch grove, slim and tall and ringing with laughter. In the space between stars. Down the path shaded with wisteria and jasmine and honeysuckle, where the scent and the heat and the humidity are so thick you can feel the heavy perfume coating your lungs. Tucked away, safe, waiting to peek out. Waiting to creep down the wrinkled bark of a huge old oak and wink at the little girl playing among its roots.

I hope it is there. I hope I can find it.

I’ll keep you posted.

This is my own personal void to yell into, after all.