#every picture i took looked slightly blurry so like. just bear with me on that

[tacticalspider]

olduvai, olduvai, what happened? / the cycles of time?

i'm growing older in my body / in my mind's eye, i'm always young

(image description in alt and under cut; reference pic under cut)

image description: this is long sorry. i redrew a picture of ray toro and his two sons to be teletubbies. the original picture was taken during the reunion tour and is of ray kneeling at the edge of this little stage offshooting from the big stage. he's doing a really awesome solo and his hair is flying everywhere so that it kind of looks like a halo, and his two young kids are on the ground, standing at the edge of the stage and sort of clambering up towards him. the picture was taken by his wife and it's really beautiful. anyway, so my picture has pretty much the same set up, but i drew it in colored pencil and pen on a page from my dad's thesis, which was on an endangered Nicaraguan language called Ulwa and the scaling is kind of fucked because I'm still learning how to actually draw. in my picture, ray is laa laa, the yellow teletubby, but that's only visible through his yellow hands and arms and the yellow curling antenna mixed in with his hair. i tried to add yellow bits to his hair, which is long, brown, and curly, but i'm not sure how well it worked. i made him wear a blue-grey iron maiden shirt, just because i'm pretty sure i saw him wear and iron maiden shirt on the internet once and that seemed like a decent color. he's also wearing dark brown jeans and brown boots and his guitar is meant to be a dark, reddish-brown. on his left is the crowd, which is a scribbly dark brown mass, and on his right is a big stage light, which has a yellow glow that spreads out behind him. in the upper right corner, the word "olduvai" is written in yellow-brown letters with a turquoise outline and a font that's meant to look sort of like important penmanship from the eighteenth century, because i think it looks cool. next to "olduvai" it says "life cycles endlessly on." these are lyrics from "olduvai," which is a song Ray wrote solo and I really like. his kids are the teletubbies ru-ru and umby pumby, and they are orange and dark yellow respectively. ru-ru has turquoise headphones on, an orange antenna that's basically just a nub, and his yellow shirt says "tubby custard" on the back. umby pumby's headphones are dark pink. it's a pretty cool picture. end id.

reference:

[bokutosworld]

seasons change, our love remains the same | miya o. 

pairing: timeskip osamu x f!reader  word count, genre: 1.8k words, established relationship, fluff.  warning: none summary: a story of how osamu’s love for you began and how it will never end. a/n: this is a piece for the haikyuu-cafe x hqhangout collab! 

It was springtime when words of love flowed out of him. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Osamu peers over your shoulder to get a glimpse of the yearbook in your hand. His eyes land on a younger version of himself who was barely smiling at the camera. He grimaces internally, shaking his head at the memory of the day when the picture was taken.

Sitting down on the floor, he slings his arms around you and brings you closer. “Where did you get this?” 

“Unlike you, I actually kept our yearbook. It’s a nice memento of the past,” you laugh, turning the page and going further down the memory lane. You reach a section containing different pictures—montages of photographs from the sports day, the cultural festival, and, the one that caught your eye, the graduation ceremony. 

“Hey, do you remember this?” Osamu follows where you were pointing at. There, at the middle, was a blurred image of some Class-1 students, his and your class, under a cherry blossom tree. Though the colors were muted, he could vividly remember that moment when the pink petals were dancing around in the air, everyone dreamily looking up at the bloom, but all he could focus on was you standing by his side as the teacher captured the photograph. 

He remembers how his heart was beating so crazily at that instant. And what followed then was the moment that he’d been preparing for. 

“Of course, I do. What do you take me for?” His arms encircle around your waist, he kisses the top of your head. “That’s when I confessed to you.” 

You chuckle, “Wrong. You haven’t confessed to me here yet.” 

“Oh, right,” he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking straight in your eyes. He narrates the past to you, “After we took that picture, I asked if you could come with me at the back of the gym.” 

You hum and he continues, “You awkwardly followed behind as we walked together. Then when we arrived, I brought out a single carnation flower. You stared at it with wide eyes for minutes and I was so scared that I would get rejected right there and then.” 

“Well, that’s because you weren’t saying anything! How was I supposed to know you were confessing when you were just standing there with a flower?” 

“I’m pretty sure I said I love you,” he teases. “You just didn’t hear it.” 

You put down the book on the table and turn to the side so you could face him. “You’re lucky I’ve been in love with you since middle school.” 

He chuckles, bringing one hand to cup your cheek and the other to brush away some hair on your face. “I really am lucky.” And before you knew it, soft lips touch yours and it makes you feel warm and tingly. “Being with you is like a dream that I don’t ever want to wake up from.” 

Summer when you found yourself running to him for comfort. 

The front door to Onigiri Miya chimes, alerting Osamu of a new customer. He looks up momentarily from his task of rolling sushi to greet the person who’s come in, only to be surprised to see it was you. 

“Hi.” You smile weakly and take the usual spot at the counter, right at the front where you could watch him cook.

“What are you doing here? I thought I’d see you at the apartment.” 

“I’m tired. And it was so hot, I couldn’t take another minute of commute,” you groan as you drop your head on the table. “The trains were jam-packed and I didn’t want to be sandwiched between people and feel their sweat on skin.” You imagine the scenario if you didn’t walk your way towards his shop tonight, and the thought had you shuddering in your seat. 

“Anyway, I went here and thought we could go home together.” You peek at him from behind your arms. “Also I just really, really wanted to see you already.” 

Osamu instantly softens. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to close shop, take you home, and lie on the bed with you in his arms. All the time in the relationship, he felt like he’s been the one who’s constantly relying on you. But right now, you were running to him and he wanted to be there to catch you. 

“There’s only few customers left but I think can finish this in twenty minutes.” He slides over a glass of iced tea to you. “Can you wait for me?” 

You nod and he leans to give you a quick kiss before returning to his work. You watch in awe as he skillfully moves around his area, hands deftly making the customers’ orders. And not before long, he’s standing beside you, already changed out of his work uniform to his usual beige polo shirt (the one you gifted him and his obvious favorite). He holds out a paper bag with his shop’s logo. You take it with a curious look. 

“It’s not gonna bite you,” he jokes and it makes you roll eyes. “I figured you haven’t eaten dinner yet so I made yaki-onigiri. You can eat it at home.” You’re silent as he takes your hands and guides the two of you out of the store, waving to his employees and reminding them to close. 

“You remembered my favorite food.” 

He squeezes your hand and brings it to his lips, “Of course, I remember everything about you.” It’s his beautiful smile that makes you weak at the knees and instantly chases your exhaustion away. 

In autumn, he made a promise. 

“Hold my hand so we don’t get separated.” Osamu insists after having lost you for the fifth time in a row. The two of you were in Kyoto for a long overdue out-of-town vacation. After some time, you were both fortunate to finally free up your busy schedule and Osamu had planned a five days and four nights trip to the region. 

“I’m not a kid, Osamu,” you whine but still lace your fingers with his and move deeper into the park. Osamu lets you take the lead as you stroll along the path in Arashiyama Bamboo Forest, the one place you’ve always wanted to visit. 

The moment you stood at the entrance of the grove, you were struck at the beautiful, soaring green stalks that seemed to welcome you to another world. Osamu could feel the excitement radiating from you and whenever you smiled, whenever you turned to him to gush about the scenery, he finds himself falling in love with you all over again. He’s smiling as he watches you take photo after photo, unaware that he’s also taken his phone out to capture a picture of you. 

As you’re standing in the midst of the crowd, looking like you’re having the best time and so beautiful with the way the faint light from above falls on you like a spotlight, Osamu has a fleeting wish that he could be the one to make you happy for the rest of your life. 

You suddenly stop admiring the view in favor of searching for your boyfriend who seemed to have stopped moving for minutes. The two of you stare at each other, neither one making the move to walk closer. Osamu tilts his head to one side as he mouths at you, “Hi.”

Confused, you mimic him. “Hey.” 

It takes him five big steps to close the distance. He grabs your face, thumbs grazing at your cheeks as he stares affectionately. Time slows down but your heart races when he says, “Let’s get married.” 

You thought you heard wrong. But that was until he brought out a box that’s been hiding at his coat pocket. You gasp audibly, tears pooling in your eyes, as he takes the ring out and holds it in front of you. 

“I love you more than life itself. I want to stay by your side and keep you happy for as long as you’ll let me.”

You’re crying as you say yes and his vision is also blurry when he slips the jewelry on your finger, a symbol of his commitment and love for you. 

And in winter, the two of you were home. 

It’s well past morning. The clock reads 9:58 am but somehow you could not find it in you to get up from the bed. You move your body but it proved futile when you felt a pair of arms tightening around you, refusing to let you go. 

You feel hot breaths fanning your neck, craning to look back at the person sleeping behind you. Reaching a hand to stroke his hair, you feel Osamu only nuzzle closer and seeking warmth from your body. 

“Good morning,” he hums. 

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a kiss on his lips. “It’s always a good morning waking up next to you.” 

He chuckles, the low voice sending goosebumps on your skin and causing the blood to rush on your face. He takes you by surprise by suddenly flipping you over, trapping you in a bear hug while you laid above him. 

“Wait, Osamu, let go!” Your voice muffled on his chest. 

“I don’t want to.” He loses himself in your sweet scent and he feels slowly being lulled back to sleep. “It’s cold. Let’s stay here longer.” 

Your struggle did not last for long, eventually giving in to your husband’s grip and you lay peacefully, hearing the calm beating of his heart. A glance to the windows and you can see the trees covered in thick white, making you excited as you realized the snow has made its fall overnight. 

You look up at him, “We should get breakfast.” 

“You mean brunch.” 

Giggling, you begin to sit up which only makes Osamu groan and reach out for you. “Come on, I’ll make your favorite hot chocolate and we can look outside at the snow.” 

At the mention of hot chocolate, he slightly peeks his head from the blankets, catching you before you exit the door. “With marshmallows?” 

“Of course.” You tease, knowing how much he loved his hot drink with those soft, pillowy white confections. 

This makes him smile and finally, he gets out of the bed and makes his way to you. He slips hands into yours before walking with you out of the room. 

Mornings with Osamu were the best. And as much as you looked forward to spending every day with him, he is also anticipating what’s in store for the rest of his years with you. 

[hansensgirl]

salvatore | v.

series summary. — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. — NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, stalking, obsessive behaviours, anxiety, broken glass, a panic attack, talk of bucky’s past and his mental health, angst, fluff, kissing, dark!Bucky Barnes, voyeurism, cameras, mentions of cheating, violence, perving, manipulation, feelings, 18+!!!

pairings. — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

authors note. — finally another chapter! this one is kinda sad but the next chapter will be fluffier heh. i changed my mind and i will not be doing a sequel after i finish this series, i’m so sorry! please reblog, leave some feedback and enjoy yourself!

Bucky couldn’t believe his cerulean eyes. Tears filled them and one ran down his cheek, soaking into his beard that he just trimmed that morning. He so desperately wanted to return to your home and beg you, ask you, plead to you, why? He made sure the polaroid didn’t have even the slightest crease to it, and not even a speck of dust either. The room started to spin, and his chest began to tighten. Each breath he took in didn’t seem to be enough for him.

The polaroid slipped out of his hands and his grip on reality went with it as well. Bucky doubled over, his mouth falling open as he began to dry heave. The tears didn’t relent either. His head spun, vision blurry with crystal tears that fell easily. “Ekkk...” He choked out, the urge to throw up washing over him. He stumbled across the kitchen and reached the other side, a dull sunshine making its way into his home.

Leaning over the granite countertop, he peered out the window for intrusive passersby. Oh how he wished to see you on the other side of the bulletproof glass. His fumbling fingers found the handle of the drawer, sweat covering it slickly. As he yanked it open, his bionic, vibranium hand formed a tight fist and collided itself to the window. He pulled his arm back and continued to do so, punching and hitting at the glass that held the world back from him.

Under his breath, he cursed himself for getting strong windows that didn’t have any mechanisms to open it with. But Bucky had his reasons that nobody knew about. The glass soon began to crack beneath his sheer force, distorting his beautiful view of the outdoors. The window broke completely with a loud crash and fresh, cool air filled his nostrils.

He felt the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to go away, but he was still erratic. Reaching into the drawer that was for emergency purposes only, he pulled out a thick photo album. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the photos of you, happy and relaxed. The sight of you at his hands calmed him down. He flipped through the pages and sighed at each photo, ones that he took of you himself.

Pictures of you sleeping, of you going to buy groceries, of you showering and of you at your most vulnerable moments. In his eyes, the pictures were a form of art — derived from his love and devotion for you. Clumsily, he pulled his favorite picture out from the flimsy plastic sleeve. Freshly printed, edges sharp and almost untouched — pristine and rare.

A candid of you smiling gently, reading the book he gave you as you listened to some forties songs that he had posted on his Instagram about. You clutched the book softly and hugged a teddy bear that was from your childhood. Oh how he would kill to be wrapped in your arms, to have you bring him back from the war his mind constantly went through, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Bucky soon regained his grasp on reality and he looked back at the polaroid that laid on the ground.

His jaw clenched with anger and a certain emptiness filled his eyes… Almost as if the Soldat had made a reappearance in him. Raged coursed through his veins and he growled like an animal. Slipping the photo back into the album, he strided to where the polaroid laid and picked it up. He glared at it for the last time and then crumpled it in his hand, the sound of it being destroyed was like music to his ear.

He squeezes, and squeezes, and squeezes until he can’t, until the rage inside him subsides. He loosened his grip and stared at the now destroyed photo. His faint reflection stared back at him and he couldn’t bring himself to feel a bit of remorse.

You’re his, and he’s yours. He’s your saviour, your salvatore.

Your sundress still hugged your body even though dusk had settled in the sky. It had ridden up to your thighs as you laid back on the couch. The fountain pen your ex-boyfriend had gifted you twiddled between your fingers. The poor posh cap of the pen fell in between one of the cushions, lost in a cluster of dust bunnies and one dollar bills.

You stared at the blank page of the overly exorbitant Ciak Notebook your fellow classmates and colleagues would rave on and on about. You sighed before finally writing a word. Curvy, looped letters flowed as smooth as water and you felt your jittering nerves slowly calming down. Sighing, you stared at the three letters as they stared back at you, almost taunting you that it wasn’t enough. Gnawing at your dry lips, you slowly began to feel proud of yourself.

The

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The guilt of not knowing what to write next ate at you. Would you have to throw the page away if your mind chose to restart? Or would you have to force yourself to continue the sentence? You looked away as you thought about what to do, laying your eyes on a nasty print. Dirt formed in the shape of a footstep tainted the floors of the kitchen and you sighed, realizing it was from Bucky. Oh, James…

The thought of him licked at your mind, like a searing flame of temptation. You reminisced about him, and those piercing eyes, as well as his captivating chuckle and elusive aura. Your heart hurted as you thought about how his eyes held a certain sadness to them. You saw the broken soldier beneath his veneers and he was tired, tired of a certain longing that never seemed to go away. You chuckled, shaking your head as you called yourself crazy for thinking about his eyes. Oh… maybe, maybe that's it!

The strange man’s sapphire eyes are piercing. The gaze they come with almost hurts, and she’s the first thing he lays his eyes on. Soft cheery ones that are the brightest things in the world are met with sad, worn down ones. He’s longing for something new, something that would finally fill the empty void that many people eroded away at, the hole in his heart growing deeper and deeper.

You smiled to yourself as soon as you added the period, finishing the last sentence. You wondered whether or not you should continue or stop right where you had left off. You just couldn’t let that sudden, amazing burst of muse and inspiration go, right? You grabbed your glass of white wine and downed it like a single mom after a long day of worries, ready to write your little heart away.

The pen glided across numerous pages, not daring to stop at all. Your eyebrows were furrowed with concentration, the only sounds that you could hear was people talking outside and your breathing. The shrill of your obnoxious doorbell pierced through the calmness that you revelled in for the past thirty minutes. You ignored it, picking up from where you had left off but the rapid knocking on your door made you bite your tongue with shame.

Hurryingly, you rushed to the door and swung it open, looking down to see one of Mrs. Carter’s grandchildren. You couldn’t recall her name, but she was adorable. “The man w- with the long hair, he broke his window!” She exclaimed, before running off to play with her equally small friends. You furrowed your eyebrows at the absurdity, but then what she said had finally dawned on you. You never ran faster in your life, not even in your physical education classes in high school that you envied with every fiber in your body.

Thick, jagged shards of glass littered the concrete, and you were careful to avoid them. “Bucky?” You called out, peering through the window that he had destroyed. Nowhere to be found. You moved to his door and rang the doorbell more time than you could count on your fingers. A certain dread settled in the pit of your stomach, and you thought about the worst. You spun around as you tried to find some place that he would keep a spare key.

Your best bet? Underneath the ‘welcome’ rug that you stood on.

You pulled a rusted key out from under it and you unlocked the door with no hassle. “Doll?” Bucky called out, voice weak and quiet. He was hunched over, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to come down from his severe panic attacks. One came after the other, insecurities and memories tumbling down onto him and he was trapped in a ruthless circle of repetition.

You grabbed his flesh hand, wincing at how it was slightly damn from his tear. Gently, you placed his hand on his heart and soothingly reached up to caress his cheek. “Buck, you gotta breathe with me, okay? Do the same as me.” You instructed, his eyes flashing to you as you knelt down on the floor with him. You slowled your breathing down for him to match, and he followed eventually.

“That’s it… There you go…” You praised, moving your hand from his face to his soft hair, threading your fingers through his locks gently. You reached up and lightly kissed his sheen-covered forehead, soft lips almost smoothing out his splintered edges. You didn’t pull away, keeping Bucky in your arms like he was going to be stolen away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, swallowing your smaller frame into his.

His tears relented but his sobs stayed, deciding that maybe they were going to spend a night or two. You refused to shush him, knowing that letting him cry everything out could make it better. His tears soaked into your skin, leaving it damp. Your eyes scanned the house, a gasp falling from your lips as you looked at the aftermath of a storm.

The walls were dented in and scratched up — the once pristine paint was ruined completely. A few photo frames were broken and a poor vase was shattered into pieces that could easily pierce through anyone’s skin; even a super soldier’s. You just knew another war had taken place in his home — one between him and his emotions. You threaded your fingers through his hair, occasionally stopping to gently untangle some slightly stubborn knots.

He sighed under your touch and smiled as his breathing returned to normal. His heart still beat harshly but it wasn’t as bad as before. You took notice too, realizing that you didn’t feel his heart beating against your chest. You were proud of him, proud that he managed to fight the demons that probably had visited him before.

You guided him to his couch that was covered in pillow fluff and some shards of glass. You tried to find him a cleared out spot to sit on but you failed. You frowned and Bucky had to resist himself from the greatest temptation of kissing you. “Shit.” You cursed, gnawing on your bottom lip. Bucky was practically vibrating as he fought for self control, and he didn’t know whether to thank the Gods or not when you stopped.

You laced your fingers with his and you smiled at the size difference. “Oh! Your bed!” You exclaimed adorably before spotting his stairs. You darted up them and hauled Bucky behind — even though he’s 260 lbs and a hundred times stronger than you. You tried to recall where his room was, but the hazy memories from that night just weren’t helping you out.

Your hand slipped from his but you hung onto his pinky finger. You gnawed at your bottom lip and tried to recall whether it was the room on your left or your right. “Left, doll.” He husked quietly, his voice no more than a whisper. It was still hoarse from the crying, but it was nothing less. “Do you often have these…?” You asked him, struggling to find the word.

“Panic attacks? Sometimes, but they’re slowly getting better.” He spoke, sitting on the bed. Unlike any normal human, he wasn’t tired from his panic attack. No amount of exhaustion hauled over him. “You’re not tired?” You asked in curiosity, taking in how messy his room was. You couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like your room was any better.

“No… Serum, makes everything, y’know…” He explained, struggling with his words. “Oh, right.” You smiled at him, noticing a few small cuts on his flesh hand. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, a gasp leaving your mouth. Bucky didn’t even notice his injuries until you pointed them out. Why would he when you’re right in front of him? “Oh… It’s nothing, doll, don’t worry.” He reassured, before ignoring the injuries.

“I don’t think so…” You countered, wanting to help him so badly. “Uh, if you want, you can help dress them for me? Only if you want to, of course! Not going to force you or anything…” He rambled, cursing himself for sounding like a complete nerve-wrecked buffoon. “Yes please, I hate seeing you — or anyone, for a matter of fact — hurt.” You smiled at him before spinning in a circle, trying to find a first aid kit.

“You see that door there? It’s in there, bottom cabinet.” He explained again, and you let out an “oh.” You walked into the bathroom and Bucky let out an exhale of air that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Found it!” You cheered. But then you grimaced. Dried blood and dirt was smeared across the white plastic of the first aid box. “Uh, that’s from past missions, before I retired.” He clarified quickly. “Oh you retired?” You asked in shock, walking back to him.

“Yeah… It’s for the best anyways.” He sheepishly replied. “May I ask why?” You questioned, popping open the box. Bucky nodded and pointed at the bandages and wipes. You picked them up and he cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s best for everyone. Sam… I love him, but I don’t want him to be burdened by my, you know…” He clicked his tongue and pointed at his head.

“And plus, he’s Captain America, he’s capable of doing everything on his own. As for the other Avengers? Well, they’re far stronger than me, so I think they’re fine. I still keep in touch with them, but I’m not close to them.” He sighed deeply. You didn’t even start cleaning his wounds because you were too caught up in listening to Bucky speak. Your features softened at his sad tone and words.

Sympathy took over you and you hated how that was what Bucky thought of himself. “Even though Shuri took out all the stuff, I’m still not ready to go back into daily wars. I also think I deserve a break, ‘m tired of all that violence.” He sighed deeply, before grabbing the pack of wipes that you struggled to open. “But if they ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He added quickly, making you give him a sad smile. He tore the aluminum open for you and you thanked him.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried therapy. Sam referenced me, but it just didn’t work. I guess… I guess I’m just rotten work…” He mumbled at the end, even though you heard him loud and clear. “What!? No! You, Sir, are the farthest thing from rotten work. You- you’re a survivor! You’re strong, you’re a sweetheart, you fight for this world and you deserve nothing less than happiness and everything good in the world!” You exclaimed, taking both yourself and Bucky by surprise.

“Why do you tell yourself these things, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, cleaning up his cuts. He didn’t wince at all, but you pay no mind to that. “I… Ever since I was captured by HYDRA, that’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve thought of myself as a monster, a vile human being, a machine, the list goes on and on.” He admitted and your heart broke even more.

“They used to refer to me as ‘it,’ not a human, not a victim, not even by ‘Soldat’ and that just stuck with me.” He gulped through tears and you knew it was a sensitive subject. “Maybe you could try therapy once you’re ready? I know it may seem scary facing everything, but it’ll be worth it. You can take my advice with a grain of salt or not, but you need to know that you’re the complete opposite of any negative thing your mind comes up with. Also, fuck HYDRA.” You said with a smile on your face.

Bucky chuckled and then handed you the roll of gauze that was in his hand. “Thank you.” You whispered under your breath, before scrunching your face up in concentration. Even though you had no damn idea as to what you were doing, you were determined to bandage his wounds. Bucky’s eyes raked up and down your face and he didn’t even care if you were wrapping his wounds incorrectly.

“Uh… I know this may sound forward- but do you want to go on a second date?” Bucky asked after a few beats of silence. You choked on your spit and cursed under your breath. After a few moments, you finally calmed down. “D- date?” You questioned incredulously. “I believe that’s what I said, doll.” Bucky chuckled lightheartedly. A little “oh,” escaped your lips and you began to gnaw on your lip. Yes… yes you do have feelings for Bucky — but this is so wrong. You only left he-who-shall-not-be-named a few months ago…

But isn’t it good that you’re moving on? Your inner monologue conflicted with your entire being and Bucky can’t help but to be concerned. “Everything okay?” He asked, playing with the loose ends of the gauze. “I… Can I be honest with you, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, wringing your hands together nervously. “Of course, doll, and it’s Bucky.” He smiled.

“Well… A few months ago I got out of a toxic relationship, and I’m still healing from it. He really destroyed me, and so did the break up. I’m ready, but I’m also not ready, if that makes sense. Uhm… Is it fine if we just take it slow? Or if you can give me some time?” You shyly toks. Bucky’s heart clenched and he slowly began to nod his head. “Of course, doll. Whatever you need you can ask me.” He reassured you, feeling the urge to caress your face.

“Thank you so much, Bucky!” You gleamed delightfully. Bucky looked at you as though you hung the stars. “No need to thank me, doll. I’m just gonna be there for you every step of the way.” He shook his head in a sort of reassuring manner. Your eyes fell to your hands and Bucky worked on fixing your bandages.

“Do… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You asked him after a few silent pauses. “I’m not sure… I think we’re moving at the right pace.” He affirmed, flopping back into his bed. You stood up and towered over him for the first and only time ever. “I mean- I barely even know anything about you! Aside from the stuff we learned in history class and any information about you before 2016 — please don’t ask. I literally kissed you, and we only met a few days before I think? I’ve only ever been in one actually serious relationship so I wouldn’t know but-” You rambled like a mad man before Bucky cut you off by grabbing onto your hand.

“Doll, you’re rambling.” He bluntly told you. “Sorry… It’s just a habit of mine.” You apologized sheepishly, growing shy and embarrassed under his almost painful stare. “I guess you may think you’re moving fast because of your last relationship. Didn’t you take it slow, doll?” He asked you, making you purse your lips. “Yes…” You answered after some momentary hesitation. “And didn’t you say it was toxic?” He questioned you, making you slowly nod your head.

“Did you want to move slowly?” He inquired after giving you a sad smile. “Well, not really. I mean- we dated for around four years and every time I’d try to move forward in the relationship he’d always tell me that we have all the time in the world.” You explained, skipping over some details because you were sure that Bucky didn’t need to know about how your boyfriend was in his best friend’s guts.

“Do you want to move at a decent pace at least?” He asked you, and suddenly you let out a hearty sigh. “I do, I really do, Bucky. But I just don’t know what a ‘decent pace’ is! Or- or how to even be in an actually decent relationship!” You cried out in hysterics. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” He reassured you, and then you realized how worked up you were.

“Really?” You asked in shock, dealing as though you were in some sort of cheesy romcom. “Mhm! Trust me, I’ve been alive for a while, so I know quite a lot.” He said with a smile. Your face mirrored his and you felt relaxed in the presence of Bucky. For now. “Uh- Thank you so much, Bucky! You’re the best-” You thanked him cheerfully, before cutting yourself off as you noticed the time.

Bucky frowned when you let out a disappointing sigh. “Is everything okay? ‘Cause I was really enjoying all that praise.” He joked around, making you giggle. “Uh yeah- I just realized that I have a job interview in an hour and should probably go get ready.” You groaned loudly, earning a snort from Bucky. “Talk to you soon?” You asked him. “Of course, doll.” He nodded his head in a sort of Jay Gatsby way and you felt tingles across your spine.

“Bye!” You said as you pressed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek. You turned and left his room, leaving Bucky a blushing fool. His hand came up to touch where you kissed him and he sighed sweetly. Bucky kept his hand there and flopped back onto his bed like a teenage girl who held a five second conversation with her crush. “Oh, doll.”

You bit your lip to hold in a childish squeal. You wanted to kiss Bucky’s cheek ever since you met him, and you finally did. But unfortunately, through the euphoric feeling that was running through your body you still felt bad. There was no job application — god, you couldn’t even find it in you to print a new resumé. You lied to James Buchanan Barnes and got away with it like you were some sort of spy. But you couldn’t just tell him what you were going to do.

No way. You skipped all the ten steps to your home and couldn’t stop smiling. Is this what it’s like to be in a romcom? If it was, then you were ready to be in one for the rest of your life. You shut the door behind you and made your way up to your bedroom. Your steps echoed behind you and you bit your lip to control your smile.

You unlocked the door to your room and sat at your dresser with a sort of heaviness weighing you down. You had procrastinated it for so long, but it was time. You opened up the bottom drawer and took out the old cigar box Steve had given you to store your stories in. Your smile faltered at the memory that used to bring you so much joy. You unlatched the box and sighed deeply at the sight of Steve’s belongings.

A few polaroids of the two of you, a watch of his, a compass with your picture, a locket with his grin plastered on it, a promise ring- so many memories. Finally, it was time to let go of him. But were you ready? Were you really ready to say goodbye to the man that taught you about love? How does one say goodbye to a man like Steve Rogers? But he told you, there’s no saying goodbye to him.

Not yet, at least.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (epilogue)

tw: insecurities, implicit sex, nostalgia, bittersweet memories

Word count: 5.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev 

epilogue

“Now, please clear the floor for the First Dance.”

[When the visions around you, bring tears to your eyes]

“Shall we?” He grins, bowing slightly as he extends a hand to (Name). 

She giggles, placing her hand in his. “We shall.” 

[And all that surrounds you are secret and lies]

The lights dimmed as they made their way to the center of the dance-floor. 

“We finally got our official dance, huh?” He joked, pulling gently on a loose curl. 

[I’ll be your strength. I’ll give you hope. Keeping your faith when it’s gone. The one you should call, Was standing there all along]

Kuroo opened the door to the house, having been invited over by the pregnant woman and bearing a gift of her favorite pastry. It was week fifteen of her pregnancy. “(Name)?” He called, stepping into the living room after following the sound of sniffles. 

“K-Kuroo! You’re already here!” She frantically wiped at her face in an attempt to hide her blotchy face.

“What’s the matter?” He put the box onto the table, throwing his keys down as he sits besides her. “Why are you crying?” Kuroo gently grasps her hands, pulling it away to reveal the residual tears on her face.

“It’s silly,” she sniffled.

“You say that every time, and I tell you every time, if it bothers you, then it bothers me. So tell me, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “It’s just Bokuto.”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s gone for good, Kuroo. I don’t think he’s gonna come back for me.”

Kuroo frowned, glancing down at the phone that she had clutched in one hand. The screen showed a picture of Bokuto and (Name) from high-school. “He’s an idiot if he leaves you behind,” Kuroo says softly, both hands cupping her face to wipe the tears away. “I promise you, I’ll always be here, ok? No matter what happens.

(Name) nods, giving him a watery smile. “You’re the best, Kuroo. When will you find someone to settle down with?” She giggled, hiccuping slightly.

Kuroo’s face softens as he brings her close, holding her against his chest. “Hopefully soon, sweetheart. But for now, you’re stuck with me, okay?”

She snuggled in closer, her eyes fluttering shut as her breathing deepened. Kuroo lets out a breathy chuckle.

‘She’s already here, in my arms. If only she saw me the way I saw her though.’

[And I will take you in my arms. And hold you right where you belong. ‘Til the day my life is through, This I promise you]

They spun slowly to the sound of a soft love ballad. It had been a long day. (Name) had just returned to work, bringing Hikori with her to the office. Kuroo himself had just returned from a business trip that (Name) had forced himself on. After putting their son to bed, they found themselves in each other’s embrace with a sigh of relief. 

“Y’know, I think we were supposed to save this for the wedding.” (Name) teased, looking up into hazel eyes.

Kuroo chuckled, holding her close to him. “Well, we did have a wedding.” His nose brushed against her in a tantalisingly close kiss. 

“Mmhm, you’re right,” (Name) agreed, “though we didn’t get a chance to dance during it.”

“How could we?” Kuroo teased. “With your swollen pregnant feet and our families and friends ambushing us left and right. Hardly seems like we had a chance, my dear.”

(Name) rested her head on his shoulder, humming slightly. “I love you, Tetsu.”

“I love you too, (Name). I love you so much.”

[I’ve loved you forever. In lifetimes before.]

“It only took us four years or so,” (Name) replied, (e/c) orbs gazing into hazel. 

“Eh, but those were some of the best years of my life.” Kuroo shrugged.

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I finally had you in my arms.” 

Her cheeks got hot, “you’re such a dork,” she mumbled, burying it into his shoulder. His chest shook with the rumble of his laughter. 

[And I promise you never, Will you hurt anymore]

“You want me to do what?”

“Can you help me ask (Name) out?” 

Kuroo examined Bokuto’s face carefully, forcing a smile onto his expression. “You want to ask my best friend out?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto nodded aggressively. “You know her the best, do you think you could help?”

Kuroo swallowed the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t mentioned his own feelings to (Name) yet, and here he was, already on the verge of losing her. “What was your plan?” 

[I give you my word. I give you my heart.] 

After listening to Bokuto’s plan, Kuroo reluctantly agreed. After all, he wanted to see her happy and if she thought she could find that with Bokuto, then Kuroo would support her every step of the way. Or, that’s what he kept telling himself as he watched Bokuto sweep her away to the dance-floor. 

Their eyes met over Bokuto’s shoulder as (Name) faced him. Kuroo grinned at her, sending her a wink. ‘Well?’ Kuroo asked silently, his eyebrows raising slightly. ‘Do you want him?’ Bokuto pulled away, capturing her attention once more. Kuroo’s silent question was answered when (Name) leaned forward, brushing her lips against Bokuto’s cheek. 

Once again, hazel eyes met (e/c). Kuroo forced himself to smile, giving her a thumbs-up. His heart shattered. Of course she would say yes. There was not an evil bone in her body. She’s never said that she wasn’t interested in Bokuto. Kuroo’s eyes flickered between her and her new boyfriend, making a ‘shoo-ing’ gesture. No matter what happens, he’ll still be here for her. 

[This is a battle we’ve won. And with this vow, Forever has now begun]

“Tetsu...I definitely do not still love Bokuto.” 

“Are you sure?” (Name)’s heart stuttered at the veiled pain in his voice. “How do you know?” 

Tears began welling up in her eyes. “How could you ask me that?” She whispered. Kuroo shrugged, an arm covering his own eyes. “Tetsu, look at me.” He shook his head, squeezing his own eyes shut as he swallowed thickly. “Tetsu, please.”

Kuroo swallowed once more, lifting his arm off of his eyes to look at (Name) through blurry eyes. “Yes?” 

“Don’t be like that.” Her lip jutted out into a soft frown. She rolls over, hovering over him. “Tetsurou Kuroo.” Kuroo flinched as she pronounced his full name. “Yes, I dated Bokuto before we started dating. Yes, Hikori is his son. But do you know what?”

“What?” 

Tears escaped down her cheeks as she looked at her husband. “I have always been in love with you. You - you stupid, rooster-headed, ex-volleyball captain, chemist nerd, you. You were always my go-to, my day one.” One of her hands cupped her face. “You’re the reason why I know what love feels like,” she mumbles under her breath, eyes searching his. “And I wouldn’t throw that away for anything. I am sorry it took me so long to realize this.” 

[Just close your eyes, each loving day. And know this feeling won’t go away]

“I don’t know how you do it.”

She hummed, “do what love?”

They slowly spin under the lights that shone brightly only for them. 

“Look more and more beautiful every day.” He brings her hand to his lips, pressing a dainty kiss onto her knuckles. 

She chuckles. “The only reason I look beautiful is because I have you to love and care for me, Tetsu.” 

[‘Til the day my life is through, This I promise you. This I promise you]

The sound of soft snores filled the room as Kuroo sat in his chair, rocking back and forth. He glanced over at his wife, who was sprawled out on the bed. Kuroo stifled a chuckle. She’d been exhausted the past few days, waking up at all hours in order to take care of their son. Kuroo had decided to use part of his paternity leave in order to come home and support (Name) better. He hummed a soft lullaby as he looked back at the bundle in his arms. Hikori was sound asleep, soft breaths causing his small chest to rise and fall. “You truly bring us an abundance of joy,” Kuroo whispered, placing a dainty kiss onto Hikori’s forehead. His other hand reached out, settling onto (Name)’s extended hand. She made a soft noise, her fingers gently grabbing onto Kuroo’s longer ones. His eyes settled softly on his wife. “I’ll always take care of you.” His grip tightened on Hikori. “Both of you.”

[Over and over I thought. When I hear you call] 

Warmth spread through his body as he looked down at his angelic wife. “Y’know, I still can’t believe this has happened,” Kuroo admitted. “These past four or so years have honestly felt like a dream.

“Is that so?” (Name) hummed. “So you used to dream about us ending up together, roosterhead?”

“Oh only every day,” Kuroo replied, nodding solemnly. They both chuckled. 

“I’m glad it was you.” 

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad that it was you who found my heart, Tetsu.” (Name) explained, glassy eyes peering into his hazel eyes. His heart lurched as he swallowed his own tears. “And that you were patient enough to wait for me.” 

[WIthout you in my life, baby. I just wouldn’t be living at all]

“Is that it?” Kenma asked, fixing Kuroo with a hard stare. “After all these years, you’re not even going to try?” 

Kuroo looked up at his best friend with an exasperated look. “What do you mean, Kenma? What else could I do?” 

“You could confess!” Kuroo flinched, opening his mouth to respond only to get cut off again. “You’ve been in love with (Name) for so many years now, and you’re just going to let that owl-head steal her away from you?”

“Yes I will! If that’s what she wants and what will make her happier, then I will.”

“How do you know what she wants? You never even gave her a chance to know her options.” 

Kuroo shook his head. “I don’t want to put her in a weird spot or make her uncomfortable.”

“So you’d rather lose her?” 

“I’d rather be in her life as her best friend than to put our friendship at risk.”

“Do you really think (Name) would throw you out if she rejects you?” Kenma’s expression softened slightly. “We both know that would never happen.”

Kuroo gave Kenma a pained expression, words strangling him as he forced them out. “I love her. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving her Kenma. But her happiness will always come first for me.” 

[And I will take you in my arms, and hold you right where you belong.]

“I love you (Name). Have for a really, really long time,” Kuroo chuckled. “I’m just glad that you could find it in your heart to love me back.” His grip tightened on her hip, pulling her closer.

They spun slowly. The golden light sparkled off of the jewelry she wore. “It was always there,” she admitted finally, squeezing his arm. “I always knew that I loved you. I just never anticipated it to be like this.”

[Til the day my life is through, This I promise you. Just close your eyes, each loving day. And know this feeling won’t go away.]

“Happy one year anniversary baby.” Kuroo whispered against her lips as he cupped her cheeks.

“I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” (Name) smiled, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of the cool metal ring on Kuroo’s hand. She raised her hands, slotting her fingers with his.  

“Thank god Hiki’s with Aya,” he grinned. 

“And why’s that?” (Name) teased, pulling back. “Tired of having to share me?”

Kuroo scooped her up in her arms, causing her to squeal. “Absolutely,” he replied. “I’ve been waiting to have you to myself all these years. Excuse me for not wanting to share you with our son.” He tosses her onto the bed, climbing on top of her with a cheeky smirk, peppering kisses all over her face. “God I love you so much.” 

“You’re such a cheeseball, roosterhead,” (Name) chided as her eyes sparkled with amusement. She rolled him over, pinning his hands above his head as she started to decorate him with her own kisses. 

“Yes, but I’m your cheeseball~!”

“Apparently so.”

“For now and always,” Kuroo teased, hazel eyes sparkling with affection.

“Maybe just for now,” she winked. He flipped them once more, eyes glinting with mischief now.

“I guess I’ll just have to re-convince you on the ‘forever’ part,” he purred. She squealed as he pounced.  

[Every word I say is true, This I promise you]

“I already said it during our vows all those years ago,” Kuroo began, pulling back to look (Name) directly in the eyes. “I promise that no matter what happens, I will remain by your side. I will take care of you, to catch you when you stumble, and share each and every day with you.” He kissed her knuckles before holding that hand close to his chest. “I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“As long as that’s for now and forever, that works out for me.” (Name)’s eyes fluttered shut, pressing her forehead against Kuroo’s.

“You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, love,” Kuroo whispered to her. 

****

As the final few notes of the song plays, Kuroo gently pulls back, tilting her chin up and capturing her lips with his. They come apart, Kuroo whispering something against her lips before they kiss again. Cheers and coos fill the air. The bridesmaids had tears streaming down their faces as they watched their best friend find her happy ending. The groomsmen had red faces, some even had redness around their eyes as they hid their own tears. The mothers of the happy couple were dabbing their cheeks with handkerchiefs, blowing their noses noisily. The fathers drank flutes of champagne as they toasted to the couples’ happiness.

Kuroo and (Name) stepped apart, her cheeks flushed red. They went back to the head table, rejoining their bridesmaids and groomsmen. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was approaching the table. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his eyes. “May I have this dance?” 

She looked up to him, offering him a soft smile as she placed her hand in his. “Of course.” They both glanced at Kuroo, who gave a gentle smile to her and nodded in Bokuto’s direction. With Kuroo’s permission, Bokuto escorts her to the dance-floor, making his way to the center of the floor. By now, other couples were also dancing with their partners. In the corner of his eye, Bokuto spots Hikori dancing with Aiko. 

[You’re in my arms and all the world is calm]

As they stepped under the lights, the world faded. Her arms snaked around his neck, fingers linking as his hands found purchase on her hips.

[The music playing on for only two. So close together, and when I’m with you, so close to feeling alive]

“You look beautiful.” He murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Golden pools bathed her in an ethereal light. Her cheeks glowed as her eyes sparkled. She looked like an angel stepping out in her white dress. (Name) was absolutely radiating. 

“Thank you Kou,” she smiled. His heart ached at the familiar sight. Just for this moment, he knew that her smile was just for him. Just like before. His grip tightened on her, pulling her closer.

[A life goes by, Romantic dreams must die. So I bid my goodbye, and never knew.]

“Hello?”

“Hey baby! I missed you!” 

(Name) giggled over the phone. “I’ve missed you too, Kou. How’s training?”

Bokuto collapsed onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. “Pretty rough,” he sighed, rolling his shoulder. His muscles ached from the rigorous training. “The guys are all so good, it’s been really hard to keep up.”

He could hear the shuffling of sheets on her end. “You’ve got this, Kou. I believe in you.” Bokuto’s eyes fluttered shut. “They wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t think you would do well.”

Bokuto hummed. “How are things with you?”

“Good, I’m almost finished with my classes.” He could just hear the smile in her voice now. His heart skipped a beat. “Soon, I’ll officially be a recreational therapist,” she declared happily. 

Bokuto forced a smile on his face. “I’m so happy for you baby.” He was happy. He was happy for her. But he hated how he was doing. How difficult it was for him to do well during his conditioning. How could he make (Name) proud if he couldn’t even succeed at this opportunity she gave him? “I’m actually really tired, I’m going to sleep now.”

“Oh, now?” The disappointed tone in her voice almost convinced him to stay on call longer, but he shook his head.

“Yeah, gotta be up early tomorrow for more conditioning.”

“Right, you must be exhausted. Get some rest, Kou. Good night, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Bokuto stared at his phone a moment longer as the call ended before he threw it onto his nightstand. Tomorrow, he’d be better. Tomorrow, he’d make her proud. He wouldn’t call her until he could prove to himself and to her that leaving her over three hundred miles away was worth it. His pride wouldn’t allow him otherwise. 

Unfortunately, that would be the last time he heard her voice on the phone.

[So close, was waiting. Waiting here with you, and now, forever, I know.]

They slowly spun in a circle. She blinked up at him with soft doe eyes through eyelashes lengthened with mascara and falsies. “Thank you for coming. I know it must have been difficult.”

Bokuto shrugged, squeezing her tighter. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?” His throat tightened.

She let out a breathy laugh. “You did.” (Name) leaned forward, putting her head on his shoulder as she let Bokuto rock their bodies side to side. 

[All that I wanted, to hold you so close]

“(Nickname)!” The ringing of his voice was the only warning that she got before a muscular body slammed into her. She let out a wheeze as her soul left her body.

“Kou!” She choked, slapping his back. Bokuto’s booming laugh filled the gym as he spun her round and round until they both felt dizzy. He placed her feet gently back onto the ground, arms still wound tightly around her. “Ooh, don’t do that, I feel sick,” she groaned, swaying in his arms. (Name) squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing as she attempted to recalibrate. Getting injured on their first day of training camp, year two, would not be fun. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you!” Of course, Bokuto immediately collapsed onto the floor due to his own dizziness, pinning her underneath him.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” she teased, patting his shoulder affectionately. “Now get off me, ya lug. You’re squishing me!” 

Bokuto rolled over, letting her lay on his chest as he nuzzled her hair. “Is this better?”

Heat surged up to her cheeks as she quickly averted her eyes. “S-sure.” 

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Kou.”

[So close to reaching that famous happy end. Almost believing this one’s not pretend.]

“One of these days, I’m going to marry you, y’know?" 

“Is that so?” 

One of his hands brushed through her hair as the other played with her fingers as they laid in their shared bed. It was a few days after they’d moved in together. “Of course, you’re the love of my life, (Nickname). I can’t imagine a future without you in it.” 

She giggled, slotting her fingers in his and giving them a squeeze. “I love you, Kou.”

“I love you too. You’re it for me. You’re the endgame for me.” (Name) tilted her face up. Bokuto leaned down, capturing her lips with us. Their lips slotted together so perfectly. As he pulled back, he couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his features. “Yep, definitely my endgame.” 

[And now you’re beside me, and look how far we’ve come.]

“And then, Kuroo ended up tripping and spilling his tea all over me.” (Name) giggled, brushing her hair back with her free hand. She was swinging their intertwined hands as they walked home from their date. It was the summer before their first year of college.  

Bokuto planted his feet, chewing on his lip as he steeled his nerves. “(Name)?” At the sound of his voice, she paused, turning to look at her boyfriend.

“Yes?”

“I love you.” 

Her eyes widened. “You what?” 

“I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I met you our first year of high-school.” Shock faded from her features only to be overcome with joy. “Oh no, why are you crying?” Bokuto panicked, reaching for her face.

His hand caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears. “I love you too, dummy.” 

[So far we are, so close]

They spun slightly, swaying to the music. Bokuto pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in her sweet perfume. 

His eyes fluttered shut, pretending that this was all just for them. 

That the golden band on her finger had been given by him. 

That the spotlight shone brightly for what was once their love. 

Where his son was raised by him instead of a stranger. 

When she was his, and he was hers. 

[Oh how could I face the faceless days, if I should lose you now]

A hand tapped on his shoulder, bringing him out of his stupor. “Mind if I cut in?” 

Bokuto offered Kuroo a resigned, sorrowful smile, nodding as he stepped back. “Of course.” Bokuto gave (Name) one last smile. “Thank you.” 

Both husband and wife gave him a smile. 

His heart clenched.

[We’re so close to reaching that famous happy end. Almost believing this one’s not pretend.] 

“Thank you, Kou.” Kuroo squeezed his shoulder, before taking his place. Kuroo’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her impossibly close to him. She giggled, placing her head on his shoulder as Kuroo spun his wife away from Bokuto.

[Let’s go on dreaming for we know we are so close] 

Feet pounded towards him as a small shape pounced on Bokuto. “Kou-san!” Bokuto turned, opening up his arms as Hikori jumped into his arms. “You and Mama looked so nice together!”

[So close, and still so far]

Bokuto glanced back at the married couple, Say You Won’t Let Go playing as they stayed for another dance. Away from their well-wishers off in a world of their own. A wistful look filled his expression.

“Whoa, careful babe!” Bokuto chuckled, a hand on (Name)’s waist. She giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“I wanna dance s’more!” She slurred, the smell of beer fanning across his face.

“You can barely stand,” Kuroo piped up beside her with Bokuto nodded firmly, their own cheeks tinted red from the alcohol.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home and we can dance there, ok?” He promised, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. Bokuto looks up at Kuroo. “We’ll see you later, okay?”

(Name) stumbled up, making grabby hands at Kuroo. “Bye Tetsu~! I’ll miss youuuu,” she said. Kuroo patted her cheek, a soft expression on his face.

“Take care of her, Bo.” Kuroo clapped Bokuto on the back before turning around and walking down the street towards his own apartment.

As they got into the taxi on their way home, (Name) was crawling all over Bokuto’s body. “Baby, don’t do that,” he chided, amused. 

“I wanna cuddle,” she pouted. 

He scooped her into his lap, nuzzling into her neck. “I love you so much baby.” 

“I love you too, Kou,” she mumbled, burying her face into his. “S’much. Wanna be with you forever.”

“Always, baby.” 

Bokuto shook his head slightly, chuckling as he patted Hikori’s head affectionately. “You and Aiko did too, ‘Kori.” 

“Do you think?” Hikori blinked up with matching golden pools. 

“Definitely!” Bokuto smiled. “You should go give her something. Maybe go get her a cupcake?”

“That’s a great idea! Thank you, Kou-san.” With that, Hikori leapt out of Bokuto’s arms and went sprinting towards the dessert aisle. 

Bokuto sighed, making his way back to his table. Akaashi sat there, sipping from a glass of wine beside Kenma who was avoiding the rowdiness of the Head Table. Kenma glanced up at Bokuto as he collapsed into his seat. “I think I’ll go get some dessert.” Kenma stood, nodding at Bokuto before making his way to the dessert table, intercepting Hikori who had a plate towered high with all types of sweets. 

Kenma took the plate from the boy, pointing at his parents and whispering something to Hikori. Hikori nodded seriously, before running to Kuroo and (Name). Kuroo laughed, scooping Hikori up. Kuroo placed Hikori onto her shoulders. (Name) held onto Hikori’s thigh, the other holding Kuroo’s as they spun together, laughing joyfully. 

“How are you feeling, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto shrugged, pouring himself a new glass of wine and downing it. “I’m...happy for them.”

“But?”

He let out a soft chuckle, middle finger tracing the mouth of his glass. “But I really wish I hadn’t let her go.” 

Akaashi squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto shrugged off Akaashi’s hand. “S’okay. It’s my own fault anyways.” They turned, watching as Kuroo dipped her slightly. She squealed as she fell into a fit of giggles, before Kuroo pulled her back up and pressed his lips to hers. Hikori was back in his father’s arms, making a face at his parents’ display of affection. 

Bokuto turned back to his glass, filling it once more.

The microphone sounded out as the last song faded out. “May I have everyone’s attention?” Kuroo stood in the very front of the hall, (Name) standing beside him, Hikori in her arms. 

“First of all, thank you to everyone for coming. It means a lot to (Name) and me that you were here for our wedding day, especially after four years of waiting for our special little man to join us.” The crowd laughed. Kuroo turned to face his wife, squeezing her hip. “Since you’re already all gathered here today, we do have a special announcement.” Kuroo looked down at his wife, hazel eyes sparkling with love and deep affection before he grinned at his son, pinching Hikori’s cheek. “Hikori, guess what?”

“What, Dad?”

“You’re going to be a big brother.” 

The crowd erupted into noise. Some of the males hooted and hollered at Kuroo. Ladies gasped and shrieked in delight. (Name)’s mother burst into more tears. But to be fair, she hadn’t really stopped. She’d been crying since the vow renewal. And then was overwhelmed with another fit of tears during their first dance. 

But for Bokuto? 

The world froze. The noise faded into black as he stared blankly at the couple. He watched with unfocused eyes as she was surrounded by her bridesmaids. Her maid of honor, Aya, was tugging on (Name)’s arm and mutedly shouting over the empty noise. Kuroo’s groomsmen surrounded him, Yaku slapping a hand onto his back. Bokuto snapped out of his reverie as a small body collided with his. 

“Kou-san!” Bokuto’s head jerked down, staring as Hikori tugged on his arm. “Did ya hear that?” Bokuto forced his face into a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Akaashi sent him a sympathetic look, excusing himself.

“Yeah! You’re gonna be a big bro, little man.” 

“Papa said I’m going to have a sister!” Hikori’s eyes sparkled with joy, beaming. Absentmindedly, Bokuto wondered if that’s what he looked like when he was happy. Hikori hesitated for a moment. “Do you think she’ll like me?”

His question snapped Bokuto out of his self-pity spiral. “Aw, ‘Kori, she’s gonna love ya!” Bokuto nuzzled his nose into Hikori’s cheeks, blowing air onto them.

Hikori squealed, squirming in his arms. “Stop it, Kou-san!” 

Bokuto pulled back, beaming. “C’mon, let’s go get some more ice cream, okay?” 

“Yes!” Hikori bounced up, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Bokuto finished another glass of wine, noticing Akaashi’s wince in the corner of his eyes before Bokuto went with Hikori to the dessert table.  

Bokuto scanned the banquet hall. It was beautiful, to say the least. Kuroo and (Name) were well-established in their careers, and were able to go all-out on this dream-like wedding. Fairy lights hung in tulle curtains on all of the walls, and mini-chandeliers hung over each table. Blush pink, gold, and white flowers made the centerpieces with more fairy lights in the vases. Those were surrounded by candles floating in water-filled shot-glasses. Small plastic boxes with succulents propped on top sat at each seat, a tag with the seat’s name sticking out of it and macarons enclosed in the box. 

Just like her first wedding, the room felt almost like a volleyball reunion. At one table, Iwaizumi was with Oikawa and the former Karasuno members. Bokuto and Hikori walked by as Iwaizumi was smacking the Argentinian player on the head for some ridiculous comment or another. 

Nekoma’s alumni had their own table. Lev was sitting there arguing with Shibayama and Inuoka. Bokuto and Akaashi had been seated together, joined by Bokuto’s teammates from the MSBY Black Jackals. Konoha had been invited as a groomsmen since his wife was the Maid of Honor. At the moment, Bokuto’s team-mates were scattered throughout the hall. Some were mingling with other members of the Japan national team. He could vaguely spot Atsumu flirting with one of the bridesmaids at their table. 

“Alright little man, what type of ice cream do you want?” They stopped in front of the ice cream stand that was near the dessert table. Bokuto scooped Hikori up into his arms so that he could peer down into the ice-box. 

“Can I get chocolate and strawberry?” 

“Of course!” Bokuto relayed the ice cream order to the lady working the stand, who smiled at Bokuto and Hikori.

“Your son is very cute,” she complimented, rolling her sleeves up to scoop up the chocolate.

Bokuto gave her a forced smile, the bitter taste of envy surging forward. “He’s not mine. He’s the bride’s.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She bowed, handing Bokuto the cup of ice cream, who handed it to Hikori. “Feel free to grab as many toppings as you’d like, ok?” She smiled, gesturing to the table beside her stand.

“Thank you!” Hikori bowed to her, before scrambling over to the tables. 

Bokuto grinned at his son, before thanking the nice ice cream lady and following him. “Oh, Kou!” He turned, his smile freezing on his face.

“He-hey, (Name)!” 

She smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you so much for watching Hiki.” Bokuto’s eyes closed as he enjoyed her warmth, letting it seep through his body and settle into the gaping black hole of his heart. “I can’t imagine how much it means to you, and I’m so thankful that you’re in his life,” she whispered into his ear before pulling away. As soon as she did, he couldn’t help but lean in towards her, chasing the remnants of the sun like a child chasing after the sunset. 

“I’m just glad that I could be a part of his life.” Bokuto forced his lips up higher. They stood side by side, watching together as their son came back with a tower of toppings on his ice cream. “Whoa, be careful or you’ll make a mess ‘Kori.”

“I will, Kou-san!”

“Let’s sit down so you don’t spill everywhere,” (Name) suggested, gesturing to the nearest empty table. Bokuto pulled out her chair for her, waiting for her to sit down before taking his seat. Hikori sat in between them. 

“Shouldn’t you be greeting people and accepting congratulations?”  

She snorted, kicking her heels off with a sigh of relief. “Kuroo can do that. My feet are aching.” (Name) sent him a bemused smile. “Guess that’s just what happens when you’re wearing heels all day while pregnant.”

Bokuto choked on air, before he focused his attention on Hikori who was eagerly scooping ice cream into his mouth. Bokuto grabbed one of the napkins, wiping the ice cream marks off of Hikori’s cheeks. “Congratulations, by the way.”  

“Thanks, Kou.” 

Bokuto scanned the room, anxious for some words to fill the silence. “You look beautiful,” he blurted. 

(Name) giggled, fiddling with her earring. “You said that already, Kou.”

“Mama does look beautiful, doesn’t she?” Hikori piped up, gazing with childlike awe between his mother and father. “Like an angel!”

“You’re right, ‘Kori. Your mother does look like an angel.” Bokuto ruffled Hikori’s hair. 

(Name) sighed as she caught Kuroo gesturing for her to join him. He was currently being swarmed by her family members. “Alright you flirts, don’t make a mess okay? I need to go save my husband.” With a final wave, (Name) picked up her heels with her fingertips and sauntered over to Kuroo.

****

As (Name) and Kuroo said goodbye to their guests, they handed out small burlap bags to all the adults. Bokuto chuckled at them. “Hangover Kit” was emblazoned on the bags, joined with the Red Cross logo. Fitting for someone in the medical industry. Hikori and Aiko were handing out small bags of candies and toys to all the kids who were exiting, carefully supervised by Konoha. Aya was supervising the clean-up of the hall.    

“Be good for Kou-san when we’re gone, okay, Hiki?”

“Yes, Mama!” Hikori kicked at the ground, pouting slightly. “Can’t I come?”

“Next time, Hiki, ok?” Kuroo squatted down, extending a hand to Hikori. “I promise you, we’ll take you on a special trip just us three before your sister comes, ok?” 

Hikori linked his pinky with his father, nodding aggressively. “Ok!” Kuroo opened his arms, letting Hikori jump into them. “I love you, Papa!” 

“Love you too, Hiki.” Kuroo rubbed Hikori’s back before placing him down and letting (Name) hug her son.

“I love you, Hiki. I promise, we’ll be home in a few days okay?” She bent down, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bye Mama! I love you too.” 

Hikori was released from his parents, backing up until he ran into Bokuto’s legs. Bokuto scooped him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of him.”

“Thanks Kou.” (Name) kissed his cheek, hugging both of them. Bokuto savored the moment. “We’ll see you on Monday!” 

“Let’s go love.” Kuroo opened the backseat door to Kenma’s car, who would be driving them to the airport. “Thanks Bokuto.” Kuroo nodded at the other male, before helping (Name) into the car. With one final wave, the couple were racing down the streets.

“I’ll miss them.”

Bokuto ruffled Hikori’s hair. “Me too.” 

His heart screamed at him. To chase after her one more time. To hold her in his arms. They were so close. Words clawed at his throat, threatening to choke him as he swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. 

I love you, (Name). I never stopped loving you. I was an idiot for ghosting you. An idiot for leaving you. Please, come back. I wanna raise our son with you. 

I wish we could be parents together for Hikori. 

I wish that I was taking you on our honeymoon. 

I wish that you were pregnant with my daughter. 

I wish we still lived together in that house we bought all those years ago. 

I wish that you were still mine. 

Please.

But Bokuto remained silent, watching as the car drove the love of his life further and further away from him. He looked down at his lockscreen. A photo of his red Japan national jersey stared back at him. It’s said that what you set as your lock-screen would end up being the most important thing to you. 

At the end of the day, that was the choice he made. 

Volleyball. 

Not a future with the love of his life. 

Not a future with kids. 

Not a future with (Name).

*****

AN: And that’s a wrap y’all! How are we feeling? Is this what you expected? What was your favourite part about Lockscreens? 

Please, spam my ask-box with your thoughts/comments/ideas. God I’m so emotional just posting this asdfghjkl

Since the series has officially wrapped up, feel free to ask for more supplements! I do have (2) more Lockscreens supplements to work on from the 600 follower event, but I’ll permanently be opening up supplements for Lockscreens on an “if I like it, I’ll write it” basis. 

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora  @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother @setterfish @toobsessedsstuff @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91  @firebonbon @mentalydisturbed@samkysnks @dolan-mendes16  @loudpoetry23 @estmagnifique @milkteeboba @newfriendjen  @sempiternal-amour @scrappyfka @ mayor-chu-of-many-towns @bokutosdivineass @yeahhemmings- @elianetsantana @strawhatshepard @caramel-chuuya @sol-demure  @song-of-storms162 @rogueofbullshit @cheerysparkle @killlerqween @aomineavenue​ @fatal-impact​ @isleofnajera​ @safa-a07​ @shoyomeow​ @vicassa​ @shrimpypenis​ @craftyfawns​ @london-quynh​ @katelyns-stuff​  @leinnah​ @yoitsseulgi​ @tazzi-baby @babyydragon21 

I couldn’t tag names in bold.

Thank you again for going on this journey with me. 

[orange-waterfalls]

Reader w/ wings headcanons(Markiplier Alter Egos)

ty @fancybootm​ for the request!

A/N: i just did all of them. every-all-everyone. Except Yandereplier, Silver Shepard, Ed Edgar... maybe others I’m not aware of at the moment... I tried to stick with a certain number of egos, but my hands just... they just kept moving. It is 11:00 pm when im writing this ya boy is TIRED. there are 1.6k words. It seems longer than it is bc bullet points. Bear with me. You can find the egos that you want easily. The reader is gender neutral. i am so sorry if this is not what you meant lol. on the bright side this is a good reference for all the egos i am open to writing for(also maybe others idk) so uh im keeping it enjoy. I’ll say... a T rating for cursing and also a bit of violence but literally like 20 words. mentions of injury. that’s it.

Requests are open!

Y/N(reader) with wings hcs

No one knows what the fuck you are, not even you

Ya got wings. That’s it.

Are you an angel? A faery? A phoenix? Who knows

You woke up one day in a forest remembering nothing

But you had wings

And then you got shot with an arrow

You ran away and hid in a cave

Darkiplier spends most of his time around you studying you

To see what you could possibly be

He still doesn’t know

He’s settled for calling you a “cryptid”

He’s slightly annoyed with the feathers you leave around the manor

He won’t tell you bc you can’t control that and it’d be rude

You read together in his study on occasion

You sit on the floor bc your wings get uncomfortable in chairs

In sympathy, he also sits on the floor

You think it’s sweet

You told him so and he sputtered out a “shut up and read your book”

He’s fairly fond of you

You’re good company to keep around

Wilford was the one who found you

He was walking through the forest, as one does, when he saw GIANT feathers

Naturally, he followed them

He found you in a cave with an arrow in your shoulder

He took you back to the manor and patched you up

He begged Dark to keep you there

He promised not to kill anybody for a month

He made it 15 days, which is a record

He’s very protective of you, not letting you out a lot since uh… hunters

You are his Sweet Little Songbird, light of his life, wind in his sails, 

if anything happens to you he will kill everyone in the manor and then himself

He helps you preen a lot

His hands are very gentle, surprisingly 

He spends the most time with you out of everyone

You play games, talk(well, he talks to you), and just hang out

He loves and adores you with his whole heart

Actor tolerates you, or so he says

He’s jealous of your wings

HE’S supposed to be the mysterious, sexy one!

But ok, yeah, you’re pretty interesting

He uses you in short films sometimes bc… well… wings

There are alot of things you can do with wings, surprisingly

He took you out into town one night

He shoved the wings under a thick jacket

You guys bought some clothes and food

He cut holes in the clothes for your wings, grumbling about a “waste of money” and “you never go out anyway” 

but he enjoyed spending a bit of time with you

Wilford nearly killed him(again) when he found out

He likes venting to you bc you just nod without really listening

As I said, you’re good company

Yancy thinks you’re nice

He felt a bit… threatened at first

Ya got WINGS, of course he’s cautious

But they are very pretty

And he likes to use you in choreography

People always comment on how realistic the wings are as Yancy leads you away

You don’t judge him for killing his parents, he likes that about you

You don’t know. You could’ve done something bad. You don’t remember

He likes cuddling bc you wrap your wings around him and he feels safe

He also helps you preen… sometimes… 

He’s… really bad at it...

You like listening to him sing

He sings you lullabies at night

You’re very close

Illinois is very fascinated with you

He’s convinced you’re a fairy

He’s seen quite a few of those

You tell him you don’t know, and he goes “a LiKeLy StOrY”

He likes drawing you

You’re very angelic

“Oh, maybe an angel then…” He says, like an idiot

He takes you with him on a few adventures to fly him over pits and stuff

He’d never admit it but he has a… THING about heights

It’s called a phobia, you egotistic maniac

You try to help him with it

You never get that far off the ground before he’s screaming to be put down

He appreciates the effort

He gives you things he finds on adventures that are pretty or remind him of you

He infodumps to you about curses, and archaeology, and adventuring, etc.

Magnum is uh… well, he’s Magnum

He figures you’d be useful out at sea

You can find nearby land, ships, or treasure by flying, of course

He didn’t take into account the fact that you don’t really… fly that often.

So it turned into you just stretching your wings instead of looking for loot

Once you fell overboard

Everyone was like “eh, they can fly, it’s fine”

Then they realized that you probably can’t since your wings might be wet

Magnum LEAPED into the fuckin water and THREW you back on

He doesn’t take you on the sea as much anymore

sometimes you talk about life, treasure, love, y'know the usual

He’s very Father Figure-ly

Bim isn’t sure how to feel about you

You are a person. With wings. What’s he supposed to do about that

He’s friends with Wil, so has to tolerate you at least.

He tries to make conversation, but it doesn’t always go as well as it could

You don’t have much to talk about, and some of his topics worry you

Mostly you two just kinda… exist in the same general area

Sometimes he’ll discuss what he should do on his show

You don’t have many ideas

But you’ve gotten an idea of what it is, and sometimes give a suggestion or two

He appreciates you for that

He tried to get you on the show once but Wilford refused

You kinda wanted to, but whatever

You’ll hang out sometimes too

He’s very entertaining, he has to be

Eric is kind of scared

Not that you’ll hurt him, that he’ll hurt you

That happens a lot to people he likes…

He eventually starts hanging out around you

You don’t ask bad questions, and you distract him from his dad

He talks about animals with you a lot, and how he wanted a farm

You bought a cowboy hat and gave it to him and he cried

You also gave him a stuffed cow one day

He hugged you for a long time

You two cuddle a lot bc the boy needs SAFETY and SECURITY

You wuv each other(platonically or otherwise)

Dr. Iplier doesn’t bother you, mostly

He appreciates that you keep to yourself

He has his work, that’s what he’s focused on

Sometimes he’ll see you when you try to find Wilford or get some food

He tries to get a good look at you without looking suspicious

It doesn’t work, he always falls over

He once gave you a “physical”

It was mostly to just figure out what you were

You seemed mostly human based on the results

But goddammit you had WINGS

They had their own function but were sort of like an add-on to your body

He was slightly disappointed you weren’t gonna… turn into a whole bird

You tolerate each other

Google fuckin’ hates you

He’s completely perplexed by you

Which he is never because he is the most intelligent being on the planet

So he assumed he could figure out what you were

Turns out google fucking sucks at figuring out things people don’t already know

So he hates you. Like a lot

He’s tried to kill you multiple times

But his objective is to destroy MANKIND

You are not included in that

BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE!!!

Also Wilford almost killed him for it

So yeah he just kinda hates you

You’ve tried to get along with him but he just wouldn’t

He finally talked to you when Bing called him a little bitch

Still hates you, but can tolerate your existence now

Bing fuckin’ adores you

You are just wonderful to him

You can FLY??!! You have WINGS???!!!!!

You don’t really care that he is an artificial BEING????!!!!!!!!

You’re perfect

He does Sick Tricks™ to try to impress you

They never do

You appreciate the effort

You don’t see him a lot, but when you to it’s very entertaining

He taught you how to skateboard

You kinda sucked but he’s very supportive

He likes just hanging around you

It’s the only time he ever chills the fuck out

Everyone’s thankful to you for that

Your entire dynamic is “what if... i put... my minecraft bed... next to yours? haha just kidding... unless?”

The Host doesn’t really care about the wings??

I mean, he can’t see them, so… what’s the big deal

You appreciate that

He still does the uh… narration thing… with real people…

The stories end better now

You convinced him to make the stories end better

You sat with him to make SURE the stories end better

He also started writing novels recently

You help with plot and character development

He appreciates that

The Jims… don’t really care about you

I mean you’re interesting, of course

But they physically Cannot get a clear picture of you

Even if you agree to sit still, it just doesn’t happen

It is always, ALWAYS blurry

They eventually give up and leave you alone

They do spend a bit of time with you

You help them with demon episodes sometimes

You don’t do much, but they like the emotional support

King of the Squirrels is… well, he’s him

He doesn’t… he doesn’t do much

He hangs out with his squirrels. That’s pretty much it.

You just started hanging out with him one day

He didn’t mind

You two feed the squirrels while sitting by a tree

He lets you wear his crown sometimes

He draws his squirrels, and lets you see the pictures

He teaches you how to draw them

You two don’t talk, really

You just sit. And hang out.

He doesn’t really smile, but you can tell when he’s happy with you

[foxofthedesert]

So I just finished my 3rd watch thru of Merlin, and yet again am brokenhearted. Not only by Arthur's death and Merlin's grief, but by Morgana's tragic descent into madness. Though I loathed the choice, I always understood why the writers went the direction they did with Morgana. What I did not understand was the way they handled her relationship with Gwen. It just never made any sense to me that Morgana could be so cruel to someone she clearly loved very deeply - even if only in the platonic sense. To me, it seemed like the Morgana that existed at the end of season 2 was replaced by a totally different, inexplicably cruel and insufferably smirky one by the start of season 3.

Still, prophecies need fulfilled and such, and after all it is a fantasy series based on a complicated mythology where Morgana sometimes is portrayed as evil. I just wish it was handled better.

Be that as it may, as a writer I tend to gravitate toward the untold stories within canon. That being the case, Gwen and Morgana's relationship is a natural attraction. I adore their chemistry, which makes them so easy to pair up. Since I am also not necessarily beholden to canon, that means I can imagine whatever the hell I want for them. Such an AU where their potential is realized before Morgause enters the picture to warp Morgana into her father's daughter.

This little piece is part of that. I may or may not add more entries in the future.

As a side note, this was initially supposed to be much shorter, but my fingers wouldn't stop typing words. Silly digits.

Ficlet below the line!

Morgana awoke giggling in an entirely unrefined manner. Her uncharacteristic bubbly mirth, she discovered, was due to a gentle tickling sensation all across her face. Once the wispy haze of sleep was blinked out of her blurry eyes, a familiar shape resolved into an entirely too handsome face wearing such a love-sick expression that her chest reflexively suffused with an affectionate warmth that quickly seeped into her very bones.

“What time is it?” she asked to the person hovering above her, voice still gravelly and slightly slurred from having been roused out of such a deep, blessedly dreamless repose. The pleasant tickling sensation began anew immediately after her half-slurred inquiry, and when she lifted her gaze she was greeted by rich brown eyes she would swear on her life she could live and die in.

“Just after dawn.” The utterly enchanting creature paying her such lovely attention continued to delicately and reverently brush calloused fingertips across the expanse of her jaw. “Sorry I woke you. I meant to let you sleep in a bit longer, I just really couldn’t help myself.”

A pause allowed a full, dusky lip to be pulled rather invitingly between pearly white teeth before her beloved added, “It seems I never can where you are concerned.”

Morgana smiled. A genuine smile, too. Nothing like the false ones she graced her guardian with, full of barely suppressed loathing and rage. Lately she had been consumed by disgust for the man who so many times proclaimed to cherish her, a man who would see her burnt at the stake if he knew who she truly was. Uther Pendragon claimed to be a fair and just king, yet he waged unlawful wars against territories that dared stand up against his brutish rule and relentlessly persecuted innocents whose only crime was to be born different. People like her. People with magic.

Coming to terms with her gifts had cost Morgana both countless nights spent in wakeful torment over horrific visions that plagued her dreams and untold days spent wrestling with throat-clogging anxiety over the possibility of discovery. There were many occasions during that frightening period in which she felt as though tottering precariously over a dark, abyssal chasm at the bottom of which lie only inescapable madness. Every second spent at court was an exhausting exercise in choking down a nauseating terror of the tyrant who held the power of life and death over her and would surely decide upon the latter should he learn the truth about her magic. Meals were a unique form of torture due to the perpetual knot residing in her stomach and every event she would normally revel in was transformed into a dreaded affair during which she could scarcely breathe for the crushing weight resting upon her chest.

Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Guinevere and Merlin she is sure she would have already plummeted headlong into those foreboding depths, right into the waiting arms of a hatred no human heart could withstand without incurring irreparable damage.

If Merlin hadn’t told her the truth about his magic as he lead her to Aglain’s druid camp, the pervasive sense of isolation and desperation worming insidiously through her mind would have inevitably forced her into drastic choices. Even before her magic manifested she had silently nursed treasonous thoughts toward Camelot’s cruel monarch. What might she have done if the walls closed in so tightly on her she felt there was no avenue of escape outside of acting upon those unsavory impulses? It hardly bears thinking about for risk of inviting such evil desires back in to her heart when of all her attributes, it is her heart which makes her most special – or at least that is what Guinevere insists to be the case.

Thankfully, finding a steadfast friend and ally in Merlin had done much to ameliorate the suffocating feeling of helplessness she felt as a member of the court harboring so deadly a secret. With much diligence and patience he was teaching her to control her powers, to harness them for good, and to have faith that better days were ahead for their kind. It was also mostly due to the Merlin’s deceptive wisdom and boundless optimism – and to be fair what reasonable person could resist that impish, dimpled smile? – that she began to view Arthur through a fresh lens.

If she bothered to look deeply, as Merlin insisted, to ignore the chauvinistic bravado and infuriating superiority complex, it was not difficult to recognize Arthur’s innate nobility and compassion that existed despite his monstrous father. And seeing as Merlin was as stubborn as he was convincing, it did not take long for Morgana to accept with a cautiously hopeful heart that with the aid of loyal friends, Arthur had it in him to become to the greatest sovereign Camelot had ever seen, a king who might actually prove himself worthy of the people both common and magical to whom he would be sworn to serve. Of course, she and Arthur still had their mundane squabbles and butted heads frequently over political and legal matters, but in the months since Merlin began her training, Morgana had acquired a new appreciation for the young man who was to her as good as a sibling.

As much as Merlin had done for her, however, it paled in comparison to Gwen’s contributions to her health and happiness.

For as long as Morgana had known Gwen she had held the blacksmith’s daughter in esteem far higher than any Lady should their maidservant. What started out as mutual respect born from shared grief over the loss of a parent soon flowered into genuine friendship. For many years they were the best of friends, each providing for the other a refuge from the storms of life and a confidante more reliable and wise and loyal than could be hired with all of Midas’ gold.

By the time Morgana entered womanhood, her fondness for Gwen had only swelled to become boundless as it was profound. In her eyes, Gwen was the most wonderful person in all the world; none could hope to be her equal in breathtaking beauty, charitable kindness, seemingly endless stores of patience, altogether praiseworthy meekness, a silent strength surpassing steel, or in nearly saintly levels of graciousness. Gwen was the unfailing light to Morgana’s rapidly encroaching darkness, the quickening sun to her deathly pale moon, the Aurora to her Luna. She neither trusted any more deeply as she did Gwen, nor did she desire the company of another so keenly. As a result, they were rarely parted until retiring for bed, and then only by necessity of station. So inextricably attached were they Gwen’s friends often jested that she must have accidentally stitched herself to her lady’s garments at the hip. The noblewomen were not nearly so kind. Some of the more prominent Ladies in the castle questioned the innocence of their arrangement, going so far as to exchange idle speculation which painted them as clandestine devotees of Sappho.

If Morgana could be bothered to care about the rumors, she would have confronted the useless busybodies long ago. But quite frankly, their opinions on her relationship with Gwen mattered for naught seeing as Arthur dismissed them as absurd upon reaching his ears and, beyond even that, Morgana would rather die than provide the snide gossipers ammunition that might serve as tacit confirmation that their unwelcome conjecture was not without merit – which was in fact the case.

All the same, though, she took great pains to prevent them from reaching the ears of the king. Uther already disapproved of their unusual bond and reminded her of such every time she treated Gwen with an ounce of basic human dignity while in his presence. Rather than censure the prejudice as she might have no long ago, Morgana now bore the chastisement with pride. Were it required, she would gladly wear forty stripes upon her skin if that be the price of Gwen’s love. The haughty bigotry of her guardian could never dissuade her from the path her heart had chosen to travel. Gwen was far too precious to ever surrender without a fight, to death if she must.

For what felt like ages, Morgana had believed her feelings would never be reciprocated. And that was perfectly acceptable to her, so long as Gwen remained an integral part of her life. The constant yearning that caused her chest to ache, sometimes almost painfully, was something she could endure so long as Gwen was happy.

That perspective radically transformed the night Gwen’s father died.

The midnight bells sounded in the citadel as Morgana slipped out into the upper town. Her intentions were pure at the time. She had only meant to visit her friend and offer what support she could, no matter the reckless impropriety of her visiting the her maidservant’s home so late at night. Instead, one glimpse of Gwen’s devastation over the pointless tragedy reignited her rage. All too quickly it boiled over, allowing those old, bitter feelings to spill out as impetuous threats of vengeance, and not only on Gwen’s behalf but for all those wronged by the merciless hand of Uther Pendragon. For what felt like hours she railed, heedless of the effect her malicious speech was having on the distraught girl she was supposed to be comforting.

It was only when Gwen – sweet Gwen, kind and thoughtful and selfless to a fault – had been pushed to her limits that Morgana’s perilous vitriol was interrupted.

Casting aside station, Gwen grasped her by the face and made her swear to never utter such dangerous words again.

“My brother has already abandoned me and now both my parents are dead,” Gwen had said, lips quivering and cheeks stained by tears. “I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

“Of course you would, Gwen. You’re the strongest person I know,” Morgana had replied, grasping reflexively at lean wrists, Gwen’s hands having migrated to the back of Morgana’s neck, thumbs cupped round the front of her ears. It was the first time she had been embraced so intimately, and if it weren’t for her anger she most certainly would have shivered with excitement at the surprisingly welcome contact.

“I’m not,” Gwen had half-sobbed, voice hoarse from hours surrendered to grief. “I’m only standing at all right now because the person I love most in all the world is here with me.”

Morgana hadn’t understood the nature of that declaration at first. Not until Gwen tucked her lip between her teeth, her nostrils flared with what could not be misinterpreted as anything but raw want, and her eyes went impossibly dark. A sharp gasp of realization was all Morgana could manage as a response, so stunned was she that her most secretive and treasured wish was being fulfilled.

But when Gwen nodded, chest heaving with emotion, despair and fear warring with adoration in her eyes, Morgana could no longer contain herself. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fused together, revealing the explanation as to why a simple smile from Gwen was able to chase away the storm clouds gathering above her head, or why Gwen’s chiming laughter kicked up butterflies in her stomach and a captivating warmth in her chest, or why even the most airy of touches from Gwen left a wake of goose-flesh in her skin. It wasn’t just love. It was destiny.

In retrospect, Morgana probably should have been as if not more terrified of crossing that final, socially forbidden line between mistress and servant, friend and lover, than she was of being magical. The thing of it was, the only relevant factors in that moment was Gwen willingly offering of herself more than she probably should and Morgana being selfish enough to accept.

They made love that night beneath Gwen’s threadbare sheets, and it was glorious, just as Morgana had imagined it would be.

All of their sorrows and anxieties and animosities drifted away like dandelion seeds upon a crisp summer breeze. Cliches regarding such unions suddenly made sense. Somewhere along the journey that began by laving the stiffened peak of a pert breast then languidly progressed into nestling her face into the delicate, aromatic flower situated between smooth bronze legs, she lost all sense of self. It was as if with each bruising kiss, playful nibble, and greedy draw with open mouth, she and Gwen were merging into one being. Gwen’s throaty noises and keening pleas reverberated through her every muscle fiber, down even into the very marrow of her bones. Gwen’s intoxicating flavor permeated her senses until it was all she could taste or smell. And Gwen’s gratification became hers as her hand slipped beneath her ridiculously extravagant undergarments to relieve the desperate pressure upon a mound so slick with arousal that the sound of her feverish rubbing was positively obscene.

Mere heartbeats after Gwen went taut with a silent scream, stars exploded behind Morgana’s eyes as the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain engulfed her mind and set her nether regions aflame. Spent and unable to control her trembling limbs, she collapsed across Gwen’s heaving chest. Strong arms immediately wrapped around underneath her arms to pull her in tight, and as she buried her nose in the damp curls at Gwen’s neck, all she could do was weep, utterly overcome by an unspeakable joy she understood without needing to ask was fully mutual. They fell asleep like that, Morgana stretched across Gwen, encased in an embrace that felt like a subconscious announcement of a claim upon her, heart and soul and body, something she not only welcomed but reveled in.

Wonderful thoughts about publicly belonging to Gwen lulled Morgana into a peaceful sleep that went markedly undisturbed.

In the pale light of morning she was still so drunken upon pure, heady, all consuming bliss to realize she would be missed if she did make an appearance in the castle. Had Gwen not pointed that out, she would have been more than glad to spend the entire day wrapped around her new lover, discovering every last spot that made Gwen’s toes curl ‘til the girl was too exhausted to move the tiniest muscle.

Alas, the constraints of reality marshaled both of them to action, and so once they had dressed, they sneaked carefully into the castle by auxiliary corridors during the changing of the guard. By only the slimmest of margins, they slipped into her chambers just as the fresh patrol rounded the corner in their direction. Once inside, the thrill of the close call and euphoria over their consummated love invigorated Morgana into a passion she could not ignore. Overcome by a need – more like an almost maddening hunger really – to touch, smell, and taste every delicious inch of the skin she had feasted upon last night, she unceremoniously dragged a breathless, ruddy cheeked Gwen straight over to her bed.

After that thorough christening, they lingered together in a tangle of limbs, both sated and happy. At least until the sound of Camelot’s awakening resounded through the chambers from the courtyard below and with it the first doubts crept in. Morgana could recall the subsequent conversation as though it had just happened.

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

“I should see to my duties directly,” Gwen had said, immediately rustling to exit the bed upon hearing Arthur’s booming voice rattle down the hallway, clearly a response to the latest in an endless string of mistakes by his loyal yet tragically clumsy manservant.

Morgana hadn’t wanted to turn loose quite yet, so she tightened hold around Gwen’s waist, halting the undesired escape.

“They can wait,” she replied between leisurely kisses trailed up a shapely arm. “The laundry isn’t going anywhere, nor is the evening gown that needs mending. Stay with me a while longer.” She paused to nuzzle into Gwen’s shoulder. “Stay with me forever.”

Rather than struggle, Gwen melted the embrace. “You know that is all I wish for. I love you, Morgana. More than anything. But…”

“But what?”

“What if someone catches us?”

Morgana scoffed, having missed the long term nature of the question in addition to the concern pouring off of Gwen in waves she should not have missed. It was not her finest moment. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive, though. The idea had just seemed so preposterous at the time because she had thought Gwen was only speaking about the present.

“Who would be so bold as to enter my chambers without permission?” she had said. “Not even Uther at his most disrespectful would dare venture such a trespass. We are entirely safe here. No need to worry your pretty head.”

Gwen shifted in Morgana’s arms then so that they were face to face. “I do, though. Worry that is. And I have to ask: why aren’t you?”

“Why should I be? For that matter why should you be?” Morgana replied. And then she met Gwen’s eyes. Large, and impossibly dark, and unmistakably upset.

All of the sudden it was impossible for Morgana to ignore how frightened Gwen really was. In response, her stomach twisted almost painfully and her heart fell as the happy bubble she had been floating in abruptly burst.

What in all the world, she wondered in a moment of regrettable obliviousness, had Gwen afraid of them being caught? Her brow furrowed as deeply as it ever had as she mulled around potential causes.

Certainly they were going to have to be careful in the future to avoid exposure, she reckoned, but Gwen was as fully cognizant that there were more perilous secrets both were currently keeping. Morgana’s ability to pull the wool over Uther’s eyes was well established, and no one else besides the two of them had unfettered access to her chambers. Besides all that, Morgana knew every nook and cranny of the citadel and was able to slip out and into the upper town undetected at will, of which Gwen was also very well aware. So there had to be more to it. But what?

Only one other possibility occurred to her, and it was the one she least wanted to entertain. And yet...

“Unless you regret what has transpired between us?” she asked at length, unable to disguise her own fear, which manifested through a faint trembling in her voice. “No!” Shaking her head fervently, Gwen grasped Morgana’s face much as she did the night before. “Not even for a second. I’ve lost so much, and I have much to regret, but not this. This is the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…”

Again Gwen trailed off, her hands retreating to clasp together against her mouth. And although Morgana’s anxiety had quieted with Gwen’s reassurance, there was clearly something still bothering her.

“Just what?” Morgana prompted, then reached out to stroke Gwen’s hair. “I hate seeing you so twisted up. Tell me. Please.”

A single, contrite nibble of a kiss-stung lip later, Gwen averted her eyes and gave her answer, “Don’t you wonder, even just for a second in the back of your mind, if what we did was wrong?”

Morgana very nearly sighed in relief. This was a problem she could easily remedy, as it was a one she had wrestled with for years only for Merlin’s simple yet profound worldview to unexpectedly resolve.

During the incident where Gwen was accused of using sorcery to heal her father, he had stumbled upon Morgana beside herself after a visit to Gwen’s cell. In her anxiety and grief she had confessed to having feelings for her handmaiden that although unseemly nonetheless had taken hold of her. Where she had expected disgust, she was instead given only understanding and compassion. In that endearingly provincial way of his, Merlin ensured her that love – if true and pure and unselfish, which he insisted hers for Gwen surely was – could never be wrong.

Morgana had felt something turn loose inside her at Merlin’s easy acceptance, as if her heart had been tied into a knot being slowly and perpetually tightened. Breathing became a relief once again. And as she learned to accept herself the way Merlin did, she began to hope that perhaps one day in the future a door would open for her to act upon her feelings without destroying what she and Gwen already shared. She could not have anticipated Tom’s death being the impetus for her to do so. Yet as awful as his tragic death was, it birthed something so infinitely precious that Morgana would never cease being grateful. And if only for the memory of that kind, thoughtful, patient man, she would never stop fighting for the love she shared with her beloved Guinevere.

“Gwen,” she had said, unsuccessfully vying for her conflicted love’s attention. Twice more she called Gwen’s name, and after receiving no response pushed up slightly on her elbow. “Look at me, Guinevere.” When large, uncertain eyes, brimming with tears, met hers, she leaned over so that she could press her forehead against Gwen’s. “We have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? If you trust me, if you love me as you assert to, believe me when I say this. Something so wonderful and beautiful and perfect could never be anything less than rightly divine.”

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

That phrase that swiftly became Morgana’s favorite answer to Gwen’s occasional concerns. The world at large, and most definitely those housed within the vaunted halls of Camelot’s citadel, would most certainly view their relationship as wicked and immoral and perverse. If that was indeed the case, Morgana did not believe she ever wanted to be either innocent or righteous. Their love was wonderful, and beautiful, and perfectly divine; an immutable fact which Morgana was determined to never allow either of them to forget.

No doubt lurked within Gwen’s eyes this morning, however, only unadulterated affection. And that made Morgana exceedingly joyful indeed.

“I understand what you mean,” Morgana at last said after escaping that precious memory. She sighed contentedly and shuttered her eyelids as yet another reverent brush of fingers smoothed along the crest of her chin. And while the diligent attention felt incredible, she grew increasingly curious why Gwen’s focus appeared to have narrowly fixated on that one specific region of her face.

“What’s the matter?” Gwen said after a bit of easy silence.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?” Morgana replied, still basking in the glow of Gwen’s magical touch.

“You have that telltale crease between your brow which means something is bothering you.”

This time Morgana opened her eyes. “I’m not bothered, merely at a loss as to why you suddenly find my chin so hypnotizing.”

Gwen sucked at her lip momentarily as if weighing whether to answer before a crooked smile bloomed across her handsome features.

“Well, not just your chin, but if you must know it’s all these little hairs…” And then she stroked Morgana’s chin again, this time allowing her fingers to feather over said hairs all the way down her jawline.

“Are you saying my face is hairy, Gwen?” Morgana asked, frowning as a thread of hurt pulled taut.

As should be obvious, she didn’t appreciate it pointed out that her alabaster skin failed to conceal what otherwise would have been a nearly invisible coat of fine hairs that covered all humans male and female alike. Arthur teased her about it relentlessly when she was a blossoming teenager, and even now some of the noble ladies who envied her would snidely comment upon how it clearly indicated that she was a witch destined for a life of barren unhappiness.

Up til now, Gwen had made no mention of that peculiar feature and Morgana would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t wounded that it would be brought up only now that they were in an intimate situation.

“No!” Gwen’s eyes went wide as the full moon. “No, not at all! I mean...well, yes, it sort of is.” A huffed breath of remorse followed Morgana’s gasp of offense. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I swear I meant no insult. I have some too, after all. It’s just less visible because of my skin tone probably. And don’t worry! It’s nothing like Lady Johanna’s fledgling beard. Not even close. On the contrary, they’re so tiny and delicate and wispy and soft, and I really am utterly obsessed with them because they are part of you and you are perfect, so they are also perfect by extension, and I just can’t get over how adorable they are, and I am currently babbling like a lunatic with zero manners. I am so sorry, milady.”

At the end of that adorable ramble, Gwen’s shoulders hunched in as her cheeks darkened and she yet again sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Any insult Morgana felt evaporated as quickly as it formed. How could she be upset with such an enchanting creature?

Reaching across Gwen’s waist, she pulled her abashed lover down until they were flush, skin to skin from shoulders to hips.

“Oh, Gwen, there is nothing to be sorry for,” she said, legs instinctively parting as Gwen’s familiar weight settled against her. “My reaction is habit, I’m afraid, due to Arthur’s derisive mocking. It’s actually quite nice to hear a compliment for a change.”

“Are you sure you’re not cross with me? I’d understand if you were…”

No one with a functioning soul could be cross with those doe eyes staring at them, Morgana decided. She danced her fingers with lighthearted mirth across Gwen’s cheeks and over the ridge of her nose.

“Nonsense, sweetling. It’s no different than me admiring your freckles.”

Gwen’s features relaxed into a flattered smile. “You like my freckles?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not? It’s like you said, they are a part of you, and you are perfect, therefore they are perfect by extension.”

In response, Gwen gave her an appreciative little smile before arresting her hand to place a kiss upon the inside of her wrist.

“So you won’t mind to be awakened like that again should I fail to curb my weird fascination?”

“Only if you won’t should I wake you by mapping the stars written across your cheeks,” Morgana said, then returned Gwen’s tactile affection with some of her own by again acting out her words with her own fingers. She was pleased when Gwen leaned in to the touch.

“I promise I won’t. I think I’d quite fancy that, actually.”

“Then I promise, too. And if you’re a good girl today, perhaps I will indulge your fancy tomorrow morning.”

“Well, then, I’d better get to work, hadn’t I?”

Eyes flashing with eager anticipation, Gwen threw the covers aside and made to get out of bed – a development Morgana was not prepared to authorize. Not only was she of a mind to lounge abed and cuddle away another hour or two, all of Camelot was blanketed in snow and she was loathe to be deprived of Gwen’s heavenly body...heat.

���Now, now,” Morgana tugged at Gwen, almost desperate with a need to curl right back into Gwen’s warmth and never move again while hoping she sounded at least somewhat the dignified noblewoman she was supposed to be. “Don’t be so hasty. Have you forgotten yourself and your duties to your lady? I haven’t yet had my good morning kiss.”

Gwen tumbled back into bed giggling merrily. “For shame! I have failed my lady most unforgivably. I shall rectify the trespass immediately.”

“See that you do, Guinevere, and promptly,” Morgana said, her eyes twinkling as her own merriment curved her lips into a smile. “As you know, your lady does not appreciate being made to wait.”

After a deliberately silly half-curtsy, Gwen draped herself across Morgana’s body, and once settled whispered her reply against Morgana’s already tingling lips.

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

The brief peck that followed was not enough for Morgana. Fingers winding into dark curls, she pulled Gwen into a much more passionate kiss, which lead to another, and another, until the embrace quickly evolved into tangling tongues and undulating hips. Soon enough, Gwen’s head was disappearing beneath the sheets and Morgana was having to recall how to breathe due to the magnificently excruciating pleasure coursing through her loins.

And that was how she came to be late for her first appointment of the morning, where she was relentlessly lectured about the importance of punctuality over manchet, eggs, sausage, and apples sprinkled with cinnamon. It was worth it, though. Her giddy grin throughout breakfast only made Arthur more bewildered and Uther more angry.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 16

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 16: Some news comes to Amelia and she’s not sure how to handle it without Tommy by her side. 

            Two more months went by. Amelia heard often from Tommy. Every week or two she received a letter and replied immediately. She told him about everything she could think of. Anything that might bring a smile to his face, to ease his burden. Whatever she could do to remind him of home and give him hope for the future. She told him the funny things Max did, the little quirks in his blossoming personality.

            He refuses to go to bed unless I’ve checked under his bed for monsters. I think Finn might have been telling him some stories.

            He’s fascinated by baby Wilbur. I don’t think he believes me when I tell him he was a baby once. His reasoning is, if he can’t remember it, it never happened. I showed him the photograph of when he was a baby, only six months old. He couldn’t be convinced that it was him.

            It’s strange. It feels so long ago, yet, it only feels like it was yesterday. I often wonder where all that time went.

 ~~~~~~

            “Breakfast, Mel?” Martha was in the kitchen when Amelia and Max came into Six Watery.

            She went to answer that, no she wasn't feeling very well so she didn't have much of an appetite. But instead, she was immediately hit with a strong smell. Her stomach turned and she dropped Max’s hand so she could rush upstairs to the bathroom.

            Polly heard retching from down the hall, so went to investigate. “Oh, heavens.” She found Amelia at the toilet. “Easy.” She soothed and pulled the young woman’s hair back away from her face. Dread came over the woman as she realized her earlier intuitions were confirmed. “Dear, I think you and I need to have a talk.”

 ~~~~~~~

            “Letter, Tom.”

            Tommy took the letter from the passing soldier and felt relief wash over him. The same relief he got every time Amelia’s letters arrived. Despite being in the middle of trench warfare, he had her letters to keep him sane.

            Tommy,

            I must admit it hasn’t gotten much easier these last few weeks. I still miss you more than I can ever describe. Everything reminds me of you. Max always asks for you. It’s hard to bear sometimes. But I manage to get through every day.

            I have news. I want so desperately to be happy but I’m so heartbroken that you aren’t here so I can tell you in person. But Polly believes I’m pregnant. It may be too early to know, but I don’t want to question her either. The signs seem to match up with the timing.

            I don’t know how to feel any more if I’m being honest. I need to hear back from you as soon as possible. I hope you and everyone else is safe. I miss you all. I will write you a longer letter when I've gathered my thoughts. But for now, I needed you to hear the news. 

            Love, Amelia

             Tommy wasn’t sure what to say as he stared blankly at his wife's handwriting. The urgency he felt to return home was only heightened. He carefully folded up the letter and put it in his rucksack.

            “Tom?” Arthur was sitting nearby, his back up against the wall of the trench.

            “Mel’s pregnant.” He replied before his brother even needed to ask what was wrong.

            He frowned and passed his brother a cigarette. “You think she’s going behind your back while you’re away?”

            “No.” Tommy shook his head adamantly. He took the cigarette and lit it with a match. “She’d never do that. Never. It makes sense, I suppose.” He mumbled to himself. “She’d be about three months along.”

            Arthur nodded. “Well, guess we can try to get you back by the time the baby’s born.” He smiled slightly, trying to give his brother hope.

            But there was little hope left in the trenches. In those damn tunnels. At that point, Tommy could only hope he found his way back to Birmingham alive. Asking for anything else would be wishful.

   ~~~~~~~~~~        

            Around five at night, Polly closed up the betting shop. The other girls had gone home but Martha and Amelia remained.

            “Well, Pol, you did say she could have the next baby,” Martha said, trying to keep the atmosphere light. In all other times, the news of a baby would be such a happy occasion. But those days, nothing seemed to be good news.

            Amelia tried to laugh but she couldn’t even muster a smile. Every muscle in her body felt heavy. There was no use trying anymore. “I feel like such a monster.” She mumbled.

            “Why?” Her sister-in-law asked.

            “Because I don’t want to be pregnant.” She put down her pencil to rub her tired eyes. “I don’t want to be pregnant without Tommy here. I’m not ready to raise two children alone.”

            “You’re not alone.” Polly insisted as she walked over to the table, setting the keys down.

            “You know what I mean.”

            Martha looked to Polly, sharing a concerned look. It would only be a harder pregnancy if Amelia fought herself the whole time. They couldn’t make it any easier for her though. They couldn’t magically wish Tommy home. If they could, the war would’ve ended weeks ago. It never would have started to begin with.

            “You told him?” Polly asked, sitting down.

            “I sent a letter two days ago. I haven’t told Max. I don’t know what to even say.”

            “You don’t have to think about it right away. You have plenty of time.”

            Amelia nodded but she disagreed. Six months wasn’t enough time. She hoped every day that she’d get the news Tommy was coming home. But for whatever reason, maybe common sense, she didn’t see him home by the time six months was up. With every passing day, it felt like more and more time would pass before she saw him again.

            Tears flooded her eyes as the worst scenarios came to the forefront of her mind. “What if it’s years?” She let out a quiet sob. “What would I ever say to the child? What if he never comes home?”

            “Hush, now.” Polly wrapped an arm around her. “There’s no need to think of such things.” She soothed even though she knew these things were not outside the realm of possibilities. “You know that stress will only make things more difficult for you. You need to remain optimistic. You have a family that will be with you the whole way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Amelia’s image kept invading Tommy’s nightmares. This would be startling alone because he never associated her with terror. She had always been a dream come true. But in the trenches, she joined his worst fears.

            He saw her face on the soldiers who he’d seen die. He heard her voice screaming for him from the depths of the tunnels. The worst one came after a few days of little to no sleep. He finally got a chance for shut-eye and his worst fears descended upon him.

            Amelia had come into view, looking as she normally did back home. But in her arms, she was carrying Max.

            Help

            Max was torn apart, almost as if he was mauled by a wild animal. Blood poured down Amelia’s arms as she carried their son to him.

            Help

            Tommy couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything to save his son.

            Help

            As she got closer, Tommy could see Max was still alive. His eyes were open and he was breathing.

            Daddy?

            Tommy awoke in a cold sweat, screaming. It took both Jeremiah and Danny to quiet him and stop him from thrashing around. From that point on, Tommy never wanted to sleep again.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            “Hold still, Max.”

            “Mummy, I want to see it!”

            “No, love, this isn’t our camera. We can’t break it. Now, please stay still.”

            “Mummy, I won’t break it, I wanna see it!”

            “Max.” Amelia looked up from the camera lens with a stern look. “I said no. Now please, stand still. If you’re moving all over the place then the photograph will come out blurry.”

            The little boy crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. His mother raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that what you want to send to daddy? You want to send him a photograph of you making a face?” It was difficult to be frustrated with him. Such a sweet little boy with chocolate-colored waves of hair and lovely hazel eyes. Even when he made such a face, he was precious. Truly, he was the apple of Amelia’s eye.

            Max pulled a pout for another few moments before deciding to smile.

            “There’s a good boy. Now, stand still for just a second. I want to make sure it comes out perfect for daddy.”

            It had been a week and she had yet to hear back from Tommy regarding her letter about the pregnancy. But Amelia was trying to stay optimistic. It usually took a week for the letter to get to Tommy, and another week to get a response, should he write back immediately. Usually, he did. But she figured that maybe this time, he would need some time to think. It couldn’t be easy to process such information. Amelia was still having a hard time thinking about the baby and she wasn’t in the middle of an active battlefield.

            She had already sent a picture of herself and Max before but they were ones she already had. The one of Max was only a few months after he was born. She borrowed a camera from a friend to send a more updated photograph.

~~~~~~~~~~

            A couple of days later, as she tucked the photographs into an envelope along with a letter, Amelia thought about what Tommy might do when he opened it. She longed to see the smile on his face when he saw the picture of Max doing his best to stay perfectly still for the camera. Maybe he would show the others around him. She longed to see the pride in his eyes when he told the other soldiers that was his son. His Max. Maybe he’d tell him the news. His Amelia was pregnant again. He’d be having another child. Perhaps he’d speculate. Wonder if it was a girl this time or another boy.

            A teardrop fell onto the envelope as Amelia sat at her desk in the betting shop. If she couldn’t be there for him, to comfort him, then the least she could do was try to put a smile on his face. Even for the briefest of moments.

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[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

Hoooooney! Henry’s insta post made me so sad 😩 could you maybe use your incredible writing talent and write something about Henry’s first fathers day but maybe where the reader is like five months pregnant? Something cute and fluffy because our puppy deserve all the happiness in the world! 🥺❤️

Awwww!! No, no sadness my baby!! I'm sorry this took me some time to write, but I hope this helps 🖤🖤 it's super fluffy and filled with everything our babe deserves 😘

The third Sunday of June. For Henry, it was usually a day of bittersweet love. He got to pay respect to the men that shaped him. He got to show love to his own father, the man that inspired him every single day. He got to be reminded that he hadn’t found his partner; the woman that would allow him to be the father he knew he could be. That was in the past, however, now that he had you.

You were the breath of fresh air he needed and wanted. You were the light that guided him home. And now, on June 22, the third Sunday of the month, Henry got to celebrate Father’s Day for himself. Well, almost. You were five months pregnant with your first child. His child. It was a miracle he’d hoped for but learned to live without. Now, he’d never have to know what that was like.

That day, Father’s Day, Henry woke up early as he always did. He blinked his ocean blue eyes open, looking around the bedroom. To his left, he found you sleeping soundly, your mouth open slightly. Even in the dark, he knew your features. He could find you in a crowded room of a thousand, no issue, no problem. He smiled to himself and shimmied closer to your frame. One hand instinctively, protectively smoothed across your belly. There was soft movement under his palm; the baby was asleep.

Your eyes fluttered open and your mouth closed as you felt his warmth enveloping you. Then, you scrunched your eyes closed and groaned.

“What time is it?” you croaked as Henry’s hand stroked your belly softly.

“Early,” he rumbled in your ear. You stretched, pushing your beautiful, pregnant body against his forcing a moan out of him. He let his hand trail past your belly, down your thigh, then back up to cup your swollen breast. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips into yours, relishing in the sensation of your hands combing through his hair.

“Good morning, stinky breath,” you murmur as you pull back from him a little. He smiles back lazily, enjoying the sleepy smirk you are offering him.

“You’re one to talk,” he replies, nipping gently at your bottom lip. “Good morning, beautiful,” he adds before kissing the very tip of your nose. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he asks in between leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw, neck, finishing at your breasts, which are bulging out of your shirt.

“Not since you rubbed my back and sang me back to sleep,” you pause, checking the time on your watch. “Three hours ago,” he leans down to nuzzle the spot on your neck just under your ear.

“Oh, well that’s just terrible. I’m going to have to fix that,” he replies, pushing himself up somewhat so he can begin kissing your distended belly. He growls as your fingers gently scratch his scalp, but when he looks up, he sees that your brow is slightly furrowed and your eyes are shut tight. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks, shimming so his face is closer to yours.

“Hm? Oh, nothing, just pregnancy pains,” you groan, shifting a little to accommodate the back aches that were settling in.

“What can I do to help?” Henry asked with genuine concern. You sucked in a breath and looked up at him, biting your bottom lip.

“Help me get out of bed and go on a walk with me?”

“That’s what you want to do?” Henry whines.

“Shut up, walking helps!” you swat at his chest.

“You know, there’s something else I can do very well that helps distract you from the pain,” he murmurs in your ear.

“Yeah, well, my boobs still hurt from the last time you tried to ‘help’ distract me,” you groan, rubbing your enlarged chest gently. Henry leans back, slightly confused.

“That was yesterday,”

“I know!” you exclaim. Henry lets out a deep belly laugh that wakes Kal. Now that the bear is also awake, he realizes there is no other option than to go for a walk.

“Okay, okay,” he groans, pushing himself up and out of bed. He padded over to your side, reached out, and used his strength to guide and balance you as you made your way out of the comfort of the bed. He followed you toward the bathroom to make sure you were okay, then went into the kitchen himself to get Kal’s early morning snack and some water for himself. When you’re both finally ready to go a few minutes later, Henry can’t stop staring at your beauty. You continuously roll your eyes at him as you waddle around the kitchen getting yourself a snack.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” you gasp as Henry is getting the lead on Kal. He watches with raised eyebrows as you quickly shuffle back toward the bedroom. He can hear doors opening and closing, then the sound of your shoes on the tile as you waddle back to him. You’re carrying a small blue bag with his name written on the side.

“What’s this?” he asks as you proudly offer him the gift.

“Open it,” you instruct, saying nothing else. Henry hands you the leash and begins digging into the bag. Inside, he finds a small, rectangular jewelry box. Quizzically, he opens it and sighs. There, inside the box, is a little silver keyring with a shrunken ultrasound photo taken just a few weeks ago. He looks over at you, tears already welling up in his eyes. “Turn it over,” you tell him, so he does, and almost drops the little thing. On the other side of the keyring is an engraving of what appears to be an audio recording. “It’s the baby’s heartbeat. The one we first heard at eight weeks. Happy Father’s Day, baby,” you whisper. Henry turns to find you, but everything is blurry. Tears openly stream down his cheeks as he envelops you in his arms.

“Thank you,” Henry murmurs, kissing you briskly. “Thank you, thank you,” he continues kissing your cheeks, your collar bone, kneeling down, kissing your belly. He can feel the little one moving around and he laughs a little. “How on earth did I get so lucky?” he whispers, placing his forehead gently on your stomach.

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, son. You hit the jackpot,” you reply, causing Henry to break out in hysterical laughter.

“I did, I absolutely did,” he says, standing up, placing his hands on either side of your face, and kissing you passionately. Before leaving the house, Henry adds the little keyring to his chain, feeling nothing but gratitude. He takes your hand in his and with Kal in the other, the three of you walk off into the early morning country.

Later on in the day, Henry posts a picture to Instagram, one he sneakily took of you while on your walk. The sunrise was happening and you were in silhouette and you looked stunning. He almost didn’t want to share this snippet of life with anyone else, but he did want to say something to this effect:

Father’s day feels a little different this year. Though I still have some time before I meet my own little one, this year, I will in fact be a father. Perhaps one that will be celebrated like my own father and brothers? Perhaps not. No matter what, here’s to the men that have helped guide me to this very moment. (Not this literal moment, I’m making a glass of Metamucil for my wife as I type this) I mean this moment in time. I would not be the man I am today without the love, support, and guidance from my father, my brothers, and all the other men that have come before me. Thank you. Happy Father’s Day to you, dad, and to every dad.

[broken-heroes-and-potatoes]

hello hello!! i'm here to send some requests 💖maybe some Bakugou, Tamaki and Hawks best friends to lovers headcanons? good luck with your blog !! 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Thank you so much senpai @bnha-imagines-forall for the shout-out and for the interesting request too, to be honest I have no idea what this is..I don’t think that’s headcanons though’ I hope it’ll be okay nonetheless, don’t hesitate to tell me how I can improve! #toomuchpressure

Katsuki Bakugo

- Being friend with Bakugo is already a big thing, I mean, being upgraded from despise/indifference to tolerance isn’t something Katsuki grants to everyone, so you probably passed some ‘unconscious tests’ throught the early steps of the relationship.

- First of all, you intrigued him, pricked his curiosity whether because of your quirk or your personnality, you immediately caught his attention and even with that, he was definitely not the one who will approach you. He [im]patiently watched from afar, listened to other talk about you, studying your every moves from the corner of his eyes. [spoiler alert, he ended up doing the first move because you took too damn long to give him attention.]

- He had everyone recognitions for his strenght and abilities, but he couldn’t really understand why it bothered him that you never showed him yours, not that he needed it anyways.. but still.

- You ended up hanging with him because of your friendship with Kirishima and even if you he gave you the cold shoulder at first, he quickly accepted you and, to the surprise of his closest friend, undertook friendly actions so you’ll feel at ease around him.

- Bakugo being Bakugo, you often get into passionate and, sometimes, sterile debates with him ‘cause of how stuborn he’s, it usually ends in screams and shouts, or pillow thrown at each other. Whatever, it stimulates him, and more important, no matter what, you still sticked to his side supporting him even when he was in despicable states and you’re defintely worth of his trust and respect because of this.

- You challenge him and it’s what drag him into you, not necessarily on a fighting level, but on a daily basis of every single aspects in his life

- On the other hand, you assure a kind of balance, appeasing him when he can’t go down from a high frustration and he realized that as things progress his feelings evolved too.

- You are one of the only person he never pushed away (too harshly at least), the one he thinks of before falling asleep, the one he felt the ‘need’ to be with when he has something happy to share or when he’s feeling overwheelmed by negative emotions

- He’s an emotional constipated boy, but when he pulled all the pieces together and understood what those...unwanting feelings was, it angered him to no point. You never thought a grumpier Katsuki could exist? Say no more. He’s on edge and fuming at everything and everyone. Midoriya breathing next to him? He nearly blew his head off His pen stopped working? He exploded it like confettis.

- Once he was aware of it, he can’t get it out of his mind and it pissed him off, the only logical option he came up with? Avoiding you. And when you try to act as usual? Ignoring you.

- The fact was that the thing he could least bear? Himself. For feeling that way, for realizing it, for being distracted and affected by something so trivial, for hurting you.

- One night when he couldn’t fall asleep because of the situation, turning and tossing in his bed, he angrily thrown off his sheets on the ground, storming off of his room and frowning while taking the direction of yours with a determine step.

- He knocked [BANGED.] on your door, not giving a freakin’ care that it was past midnight, and when you opened it slightly panicked in your nightie, rubbing your eyes, he just blurted out nonsens and the only words you grabbed were «can’t stop thinking about you – it pisses me off – I miss you – in love with you» ponctuated with some ‘shit’ and‘fuckin’ here and there.

- When he finally shut his mouth, his ears turned bright pink, stupor painted his face and as he was about to leave the same way he arrived, you grabbed his wrist to prevent him to vanish and dropped a quick clumsy kiss on his lips.

- His brain freezed, his eyes wide opened, he didn’t know how to react, not even realizing he woke the entire floor with his shouts.

Tamaki Amajiki

- He’s one of most the complicated person to reach, whether physically or emotionally, so it would take YEARS to make him accept that 1 – He can Love someone 2- He deserves to be Loved too

- Tamaki is a fragile little cinnamon roll that shouldn’t be pushed too much, it’s like sitting into bushes and wait to take wild animals in pictures. Patience and delicacy are required along with silence and empathy.

- If you both knew each other since elementary school, he would develop the same bond and dependance he has with Mirio, a solide relationship based on trust. But he would burried deep down his feelings so you would never discover his love to you, neither do he.

- If you met at U.A, then he would accept your presence only because Mirio and Nejire included you without his opinion to the group. If they do so without really consulting him, it's because they both know you could get along and won’t go beyond the pale and impose yourself on him.

- Either one of the other, he would very slowly open up to you, studying you at first, and leaving each time you sat next to him. Then he would accept that you could speak to him, sometimes he would even answer and to finish, he would talk to you and ask for your advices.

- If you’re lucky enough, you’ll be able to put your hand on his shoulder or brush his arm with yours after a few months!

- There’s something pretty reassuring about you, something that makes him feel at ease, almost confident when you’re around, the way you make all of those impossible things for him look so easy and smooth, and the bravery you show to accomplish little things in your life, even if it costs you a lot of courage to do so. He admires your convictions, the way you fight for what you love and what you believe in..

- He likes the fact you consider his feelings and apprehensions and don’t push him too much as much as you tend to help him find solution and don’t go and do the thing for him.

- You enlighten a path for him, guiding him throught the shadows of his emotional blinders, and help him make few steps in this horrific world. And he needs nothing more to fall in love with you.

- It was crystal clear for everyone to the point some people thought you were already dating, everyone except two persons, Him, and you.

- How he blushes each time you smile to him, how he searches you around when he losts sight of you, and how his own innocent smile gained his lips when you joke with him.

- Your two friends tried, REALLY hard to get you together, to help him realize and open up his feelings, to arranged some date between the two of you  while hidding to spy in the background.. but nope.

- When Mirio couldn’t bear it anymore, he took him under his arm to have an adult talk and it rang in Tamaki’s head like a bell.

- Thinking about it, the warm in his chest, the goosebump on his arms and the way he, sometimes [often], wanted to keep you close and don’t let you go after an afternoon by your side.. Mirio’s words do made sens.. and it was freaking him out now.

- A trap later settled into one more arranged date, he couldn’t look at you in the eyes, nor focus on what you were saying. You were so… and he was.. No. You definitely deserved better and there were no chance..

- «Are you.. okay Tamaki?» His heart was about to exploded when you got him out of his thoughts with the sound of his name, eyes wondering on your face in panic, what where you saying ? Why does he have to act like this, why do you look so sad? He’s already a terrible friend, how could he be a good boyfriend to you

- «No, it’s- it’s okay, I should have know you're not returning my feelings, I’am sorry I misread the signs-I .. I hope we can still be friend?»

- Tamaki thought he was about to faint when he heard you, wobbly legs, buzzing ears, blurry vision, he couldn’t think straight, but the tiny bit of reason in his head push few words to escape from his lips before he black out from the pressure. «I love you.»

Hawks - Keigo Takami

- This cocky Bastard had won your heart for ages but you kept it to yourself because you knew it was just a game between the two of you.

- You had to admit he was a pretty cute guy when you both met and began to work together, but this smart ass deserved some slaps on the head from time to time and it was a charm that would drag you to him even more.

- You were like an elusive target to him, reproaching his nonchalance and laid back attitude, spending your time pushing him away and resisting to his teasing demeanors.

- Despite the constant lazyness he tends to wallow in, he took it as a challenge and he put a point of honor to make you abdicate.

- [Un]fortunately, after months of playing with your nerves, he got caught at his own game and he was the one to fall deeply for you.

- You also fell for him hard, and quick after you two became friends, it was some kind of funny fight at first, a pleasant banter between two grown persons, he was throwing flirty comments your way and you answered to him with a wink accompanied by snarky remarks.

- Beyond that, the two of you created a really healthy bonds, he knew in a sec’ when something’s wrong and dropped anything he was doing to cheer you up, leaving all of the challenge out.

- He would took you on the roof of his building to watch a reassuring movie outdoor, your favorite snacks prepared, even if he would never admit that he fly throught the whole city to find them.

- It surprised him how much he remembered useless things when it comes to you, how many sugar you put in your tea, how your mustard scarf look good on you and how the tint of vanilla in your perfurme get along perfectly with the natural one of your skin.

- He also noticed the changed in his feelings toward you, for example, he was annoyed to the tips of his wings when Best Jeanist proposed to accompanied you to chose a new jacket to welcome spring and you seemed utterly happy about it.

- Whether for you or for him, it was more and more difficult to accept the situation when you realized how the feelings had settled down and there was no way to back off now that the relationship always been like that.

- He tried to didn’t take it seriously, but he liked this..thing.. going on between you too much, could he call it an addiction? He didn’t like it but, Maybe. Anyway, he would take the risk to confess even if it means not coming out unscathed

- Being an organised and clever guy didn’t help him much because each of is attempts to wooed you failed as you took it as the natural behaviour he developped toward you.

- And God knows how he gave it his best, he made it clear to call it «A DATE», he offered you flowers carefuly picked with his feathers while you were both sitting in a meadow as the sun set, he was neatly dressed and if you squinted a lot, he even did something to his hair!

- You wished all of this could be true but you refused to believe in it, because the fall would only be harder, proof with how hard the pain already thundered in your chest.

- When he leaded you home that night, you felt as if you didn’t wanted him to go, it wasn’t the first time, but right now, you would have given everything you could to keep him by your side. You anxiously turned to him once you reached the door, no word were needeed for him to understand what was going on in your mind.

- He approached confidently, shielding you both with his wings, his gloved hand on your cheek before you could react and his mouth on yours in a chaste kiss. You felt a smile crept on his lips when you put enough pressure to return it and he pulled away slowly.

- You plunged into amused golden eyes when his breath tickled you in a whispered words «I won», he laughed against your lips, trying once more to steal a kiss as you pushed him away gently, not-so-nice words leaving your mouth.

[wincestisasincest]

The Green Book (Thorin’s Company x Reader, Part 2)

Hey gang! Sorry it took so long to get a Part 2! I wish I had a better excuse but in reality I just watched all of Game of Thrones and cried a lot.

I don’t know if anyone reads these descriptions, also, but if you are, send me asks/suggestions for characteristics of the reader, or objects that they have on them, or even pairings! I love to hear what people think, and will almost definitely incorporate them into this.

Summary: (Y/n) falls into Middle Earth. Shocker. Somehow, she gets recruited to join a party of dwarves on their kinda crazy mission to reclaim their home of Erebor. 

Part: 1, 2

Tags (let me know if you want to be added to the list!): @stuckupstucky, @dianaarelyfernandezgarza97

Words: 1820

Warnings: Plot clichés, vomit

“Do not touch her face.” 

“But uncle, look at her! Who knows what else she could be hiding? We should check to be sure.”

“Do not. Touch. Her face.” 

“What if it gets her to wake up?” 

“Lad, if you touch her face I’ll poke yours a lot harder with the back of my hand.”

“Right, right, sorry.” 

“I believe, at the moment, there is a greater threat that deserves our attention.” 

My eyes fluttered open, only to be met with several new faces, looking just about as shocked as I did. Though I didn’t get an in depth look, they all had thick brows, long hair, and even longer beards. They had also taken to certain sacks, made out of burlap. I couldn’t really make out the scene clearly as it was quite dark, a proper nighttime like I had missed earlier, but there was the aggressive firelight with shadows passing over it that illuminated their expressions. 

I tried to move, only to realize that I was in a very similar situation. A sack was up to my neck, and though I could move freely inside of it, the toughness of the fabric and the smallness of the sack was very limiting. 

“Psst. Hey! Lass!” I turned my eyes up only to meet with a blonde haired man, with braided bears and hair like a lion’s mane. I raised my eyebrows in response to his question. 

“Yes?” I answered meekly. 

“Hey, is that the lass?” Another young, spry voice answered from over the rest of the bodies. 

“Both of you, shut up!” A rather authoritative voice, quite deep, and apparently coming from someone with no sense of humor, rose over the din.

“Ey, stop ya talkin’ or I’ll cook yew first!” I looked up, only to be met with a pallid, monstrous face leering at the group of men. It held a slightly spiked club with its massive fingers as it scrunched its snot filled nose. 

It took nearly all of my willpower not to scream, but I did allow a gasp to escape. I turned to the blonde man, and scooted a little closer.

“What the fuck is that?” I whispered frigthfully. 

“A troll, it would seem.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?!” I responded, just confused as this man dispensed tales from fantasy novels like they were fact. 

“What are they gonna do to us?!” I continued my interrogation.

“Well, I think that they’re planning to eat us, but don’t you worry. We won’t let that happen.” He gave me a confident wink like there was a chance of escape, before going back to angrily grunting against his sack. 

I sighed and leaned back, trying to absorb the situation. I couldn’t get a good periphery. If only I had my backpack, or something. 

Some sparse conversation between a smaller, meeker voice and the larger one of the troll was occurring to my left, though I was too dazed to make out most of it. Something about worms. 

The group then began caterwauling, all moaning about how they were riddled with the worst possible worms, and I had caught on to their scheme. If they were riddled with worms, then the trolls, of course, wouldn’t want to eat them. 

“What about her? She seems fine.” My vision went from blurry to dreadfully straight as the great club in front of me came into focus. Shit. 

“I, uh-” I struggled against my frightened breathing to put on a convincing performance. It would not be an exaggeration to say that my life depended on it.

“I have the worst case of all.” I used my tired breathing to my advantage, before employing a trick that I had learned on the playground in elementary school. I crossed both my eyes, before rolling them back into my head, creating the gross, veiny effect that used to make the younger kids throw up. 

I pretended to struggle against my health once more as I tried to spit out more improvisation, not even realizing the great number of eyes watching me. The only thing that I was focused on was the grossed-out fear in the eyes of the troll, who had clearly never seen such grade school witchcraft. 

“We all got it from eating a herd of cows that had worms,” I added, “That’s how it gets passed on.” 

“She’s lyin!” One of the other trolls, because of course there were other trolls, yelled from the back.

“Did you see what ‘er eyes did? You can’t make that up!” I had finally had the will to stand up, like an attorney defending someone in court. 

To my left, there was a very short creature, assuming that he was standing at his full height, of course, with brown skin and blonde, curly hair. He seemed just as scared as I. 

The larger troll hustled closer and whipped out a long, rusty knife that was hitched to his hip, holding it up to my throat. I could feel it biting into my jaw as some blood trickled, but I held my resolve.

“Why don’t I just cut you open to see them worms, girl?” He snarled. I heard a few gasps from behind me, before one tried to scramble its way out of my own throat. 

“I was going to die soon anyway because of my disease, you would be doing me a favor by ending the pain,” The troll eased his knife slightly, and I saw his expression falter as he realized that he hadn’t succeeded in visibly scaring me. 

“That would be all that it’s good for!” The small creature added, his voice rising almost an octave, “The worms are completely clear, you wouldn’t see anything.” 

I nodded, under the pressure of the blade still to my throat. 

“The only way to find out would be, of course, to eat us and die,” I added an edge of harshness to those last words, “Ready to take that chance?”

“The dawn will take you all!” A booming voice shouted from behind me. Though I didn’t turn around swiftly enough, I heard the cracking of rock and saw the rays of the sunrise spilling out over the three trolls on front of me, who were very swiftly turned to no more than stone. 

I jerked my throat away from the blade, which was now completely stone, and struggled to release myself from my burlap prison. My struggle, however, was ended by a sharp force slicing through the back of it and dropping to the floor, exposing my body to the rest of the world. It felt new to have the wind on my skin. I turned around to face my savoir. 

“Well, you’re a new face, aren’t you?” 

The first clear look that I had gotten at a person in a long time and it was, of course, Gandalf the Grey. Given how perceptive he was, I was sure that he caught the glint of recognition in my eyes, though he chose to say nothing. 

I turned to the side, only for my fears to be confirmed. Slowly crawling out of their sacks was a group that I had grown very familiar with, none other than the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, fully equipped with their wizard and hobbit. A flood of memories came back to me as I could recall both the book and the movie (like a moving picture with sound), both common tales from where I came from. I had just helped the legendary company escape from one of their earliest trials, the trolls, without even realizing it. 

The complication in this, of course, was that all my life, I had been taught that such company, and by extension, such a land as Middle Earth, was nothing but a tale. The fact that they were in front of me at this moment, and seemed to be very corporeal, was off putting to say the least. 

My face twisted into confusion.

“Never seen a dwarf before, lass?” A wizened old Balin, I assumed, stroked his long white beard while speaking for the equally confused looks of his company. 

“Uh,” I stuttered, tripping over my words, “uh, well, not in, I, uh, no.” I finally settled on not bothering whether or not I offended them and using plain, simple language. 

“From the looks of it, she’d never seen a troll before either.” The blonde haired one, Fili I remembered him as, said to the crowd as he was gathering up his equipment. 

I could feel my breathing grow heavy, and I swear that I was beginning to sweat. This was some fucked up dream. 

“Are you alright? There’s no need to be afraid, Miss.....” a small voice, that of Bilbo Baggins, who had appeared next to you as silently as hobbits are known to do, gave me a concerned look.

“(Y/n)” I answered bluntly, shunting his question.

“That’s a bit of an odd name. Mind tellin’ us where you’re from?” Balin leaned forward.

“I, uh, I-” All of the confidence that I had while confronting the trolls had completely vanished. I felt my stomach begin to churn, though I was so hungry that it felt out of place. 

“Yes, and where you got such strange garb from as well?” The man himself, Thorin Oakenshield, stepped forward, though I knew before seeing him from his voice. He looked as he always did, stern and focused. 

I stared down at what I thought to be quite normal, some jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, and a jacket, though only thoughts of how abnormal and alien I must seem right now could come to fruition.

“Let’s not bombard her with questions.” Gandalf intervened as every dwarf and hobbit eye was trained on me. 

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw my red canvas backpack glinting in the sunlight. It had been carelessly thrown to the side.

“I, um, I have to go!” Before turning around to see their expression, I gathered up my stuff and started towards the forest. 

“Go where, exactly?” I could hear Gandalf yell behind me, and stepping forward slightly in my direction.

“I don’t know!” And with that confident dismissal, I darted off into the forest, with my stuff behind me, not bothering to answer some of the screams and pleas. 

When I had convinced myself that I was far enough away where they couldn’t hear me, I grasped the nearest tree and threw up my entire stomach. My vision was getting dizzy again, and I could feel tears in my eyes. The adrenaline had gotten me through the trolls, but now, I was lost, scared, or, at best, completely insane. 

I took out my phone. The background on it was a picture of my family. My sobs only deepened. I curled into a ball and continued to cry, and hours passed before I would stand again. 

**********

Well that was fucking depressing. 

It will get happier, I swear, but I always thought that the concept of getting completely plucked from everything that you know and placed with a bunch of stange, unknown people was quite scary and emotional, so of course, it will be treated as such. 

Be on the lookout for a masterlist at some point!

[evaxsombra]

Once Upon a December

Kadeu, Club Territory, Abandoned House

30 December 2020, 2200

Snow was falling gently, making the usually dilapidated buildings and streets seem more like a wondrous dream than the rough and tumble faction that Club was. Eva was huddled deep in her Spade-issued winter set, a dark wool coat keeping the frost at bay. Her hand moved the cane to and fro across the path in front of her, pushing freshly piled snow to either side. Her boots made soft crunches with each step, a pleasant sound in the rare silence. Her hair was tucked under a cap, but her bat ears were free, slightly chilled from the cold. Eva could here the soft murmurs of families and friends in their homes and smiled to herself. She loved that sound—the sound of lives being lived.

Eighteen years. That’s not long for most citizens in Kadeu, but for Eva, at this very moment in her life, it felt like lifetimes. She could feel the snow kiss her cheeks as if in greeting, hear the creak of old wood, and the special howl of wind reserved for places long forgotten.

“Mama, Papa…I’m home.”

She greeted the her old home and the ghosts that dwelled within with a soft murmur. Anybody who’d ever seen Eva knew she was always blessing them with a smile made of sun, passion in even the tiniest of movements and words. If they saw her now, would they recognize her? The young woman standing in front of an abandoned, half-felled wooden house, shoulders hunched in sorrow and loneliness, mind as unfocused as her eyes, and cane looking like it’s the only thing holding her up rather than guiding her? Would they know it was still Eva who stood here?

The shifter took tentative steps forward, feet pulling her forward as if they remember exactly how many steps it takes to reach the door (five). Her hand gently rests against the door knob as if it knows how old the house itself is (forty-five years old) and fears it will collapse with a single breath. And when Eva finally enters, her body both tenses and relaxes as if it half-expects to find the two people Eva herself knows will never be there. Like it’s uncertain whether that would be cause for elation or crushing heartbreak.

Eva clicks her tongue against her teeth, the sound bouncing off the borders around her, reaching her ears once more and painting a picture both nostalgic and lonesome. She moved further in, wooden floors creaking and groaning from disuse. It’s clear nobody has lived her in a long time, but Eva knew that already. Every year it’s the same—no one’s ever home save for her.

With a sigh, she lowers herself slowly to the floor, the cold almost immediately fighting to reach her through the layers of clothing. Eva doesn’t mind, though. She likes it, the way it makes her body shiver and remind her that this time there’s no threat of death looming over her head. She’s not the five year old girl from eighteen winters ago, dressed in rags and waiting for her parents to come home like they promised.

She remembers telling Shu-Ling months ago how she was never one to sit still, never enjoy silence—and that was true. But this place was special, like it demanded a certain amount of reverence from the young woman that the rest of the world didn’t. Eva pulled out a small, hand-made lantern from a satchel that hung from her shoulder. It was poorly shaped, she knew simply from running her fingers over it, and she was positive it didn’t look nearly as beautiful as the lanterns sent off into the sky at the beginning of Yeon Nen. Still, Eva made it especially for this occasion and she was proud of it. She placed it on the floor, whipped out a match and carefully guided her hands and the flame to the wick inside. After a moment, Eva could feel the small burst of warmth fill air around her and she smiled.

“Well,” Eva huffed out as she sat back on her palms, “another year without you guys. Are you well?” A pause. Eva continued, a smile in her voice. “I know you guys don’t care much one way or another, but I didn’t tell anybody I came here…again. I didn’t wanna make Prospero feel bad. Don’t get me wrong! He’s an amazing dad and he’s only ever wanted the best for me…but I don’t know if he’d feel great if he knew I was still waiting for you.”

The darkness that was as familiar as her own breath, usually so oppressive, was now comforting, like her favorite blanket. It felt like it was keeping the pain at bay. Her fingers tapped a rhythm against the floorboards. “You won’t believe it. I got promoted to a Four! Look!” She showed off the wrist she knew to have her rank, though she’d never seen it herself. “Does it look as cool as it feels? …I bet it does.” Horse hooves could be heard through the walls. Eva waited until they disappeared. “You know how I’ve been trying to convince Hilo to come to Spade? Well, he finally agreed! But only if I become Ace.” She grinned widely. “That should be easy with how fast I’m moving up. Only twenty-three and I’m a Four. How many Spades can say that? Don’t answer that.”

The silence continued. Eva felt the grin on her face slowly fall. She whispered, “I’m keeping my promise. I’ll become Ace. But I made a promise to you guys to stay here….Does that make me a liar? But you didn’t keep your promise either. You didn’t come back.” A tear slid down the young woman’s cheek. “When are you coming home? You said you’d be home. I’m here. I’m waiting. I’m being a good girl just like you told me to.”

Just like that a wave of sadness and loneliness flooded Eva’s chest, but before she could let it overwhelm her, she sang. It was a lullaby so old, her father had told her he’d long forgotten where it came from.

“Do you want to sing it with me, Evangeline?” Her father asked after putting the toddler on his lap, rubbing her belly in a futile attempt to soothe the hunger pangs his daughter felt. Tear tracks trailed down chubby cheeks, but at the mention of her father’s favorite song, Eva lit up and smiled, revealing gummy backs between small teeth. She clapped and her father chuckled. “Alright. Ready?” Eva nodded. They both took a deep breath.

Dancing bears, painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December

On and on the father and daughter sang, one of deep timber, the other sonorous and high. They sang until little Eva could do it no more. Her eyes drifted close, but reopened at the sound of the front door opening. All the little girl’s energy came rushing back, hunger momentarily forgotten as she smelled the smoky fires and metals that she associated with her mother. “Mama!” Eva crawled off her father’s lap and waddled to her mother, using the sound of stomping shoes as her guide.

“Singing won’t put food on the table Koldo, or in Evangeline’s stomach.”

“It’s the only thing that calms her.”

“You haven’t gotten anymore jobs?”

“None. At this rate we might have to start looking at—”

“No.”

“Altagracia, my love, there’s nothing for us here.”

“Eva would never make it.”

“What if we scouted ahead? I heard from a friend it only takes a few weeks to reach the borders. After that, there’s land and countries that take care of their own. No curse, no fighting, no starvation. Eva could survive.”

Eva sat at her mother’s feet, understanding nothing, but smiling and laughing in a simple, innocent joy reserved only for children. Their eyes watched her with a fondness she could not see, but their voices were warm and concerned as they spoke.

“We can’t bring her. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous here.”

“We have friends. Trusted ones. We can ask them to watch her until we return.”

“And if we don’t?”

“At least she’ll be in a world that we know has certainties and people who will help.”

It continued on and on for months on end. Winter approached. Eva could feel in the air the tension her parents carried, though she couldn’t understand why. The day came that they sat the five-year-old down, wrapped in ragged blankets and torn clothes. Eva could only make out their shadowy silhouettes, but their scents filled her nose and brought her comfort.

“You must promise us, Evangeline, you will stay here until we come back.”

“I pwapmis.”

“That’s a good girl.”

“You pwamise to come back?”

“We promise. A kiss to seal the deal, our little light.”

And so they did. But they didn’t come back and Eva found herself succumbing to the frost that invaded her empty home and only the appearance of the family friend saved her from death and solitude that day.

“But I never stopped waiting. I never will. I’ll move as fast as I can through the rest of my life, but you’re the only thing I’ll ever stop for.” The room was slightly warmer now thanks to the candle’s heat, but only just. It was enough, though, lulling Eva into memories too blurry to really recall, voices too faded to make out their meaning. Only the melodies and scents and touches remained.

In the distance, beyond the small walls that contained her pain and confusion, Eva could hear the cheers as Kadeu’s citizens brought in the New Year. Eighteen years since her Mama and Papa left, but at least there was something happy left of them. Eva smiled softly, knowing somewhere in her memories, there were feelings of love and family and a song that stayed with her—their gift to her.

Far away, long ago,

Glowing dim as an ember,

Things my heart used to know,

Things it yearns to remember

And a song

Someone sings…

Once upon a December

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 19

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Read chapter eighteen

Title: A Powerful Motivator

Words: 5600

Summary: How could you have ever known? You couldn't. You have to accept that.

ST Rambles: Hello newcomers. I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far. And if this is the first update you're receiving. Well. So sorry. If you've gotten this far you already know there's a lot of pain and angst here. 

I very much hope this chapter had the effect I wanted. Please tell me your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading!

[MASTERLIST]

Only when the elevator doors had shut did the two men unhand you, the absence of their detention obvious as the tissues they’d bitten into amplified with your pulse. The crimson captors stood silently, soullessly, at either of your shoulders, posture so strict not even their armor shifted as you were propelled upwards. If they hadn’t been so obvious in their initial pursuit you were sure if you tried hard enough you could convince yourself you were alone, believe this was any other day and you weren’t venturing towards the Supreme Leader of the First Order. The latter half was true; you were only moments away from encountering Snoke. Though, however many people resided in the blaring white of the elevator, you knew you were wholly and entirely alone no matter what.

There was no floor indicator, clueing you into the fact that there was only one intended destination of this trip. Eternity clawed into the stunned flesh of your lungs, the ride simultaneously taking forever and going too quickly. The only scenario you could imagine waiting for you was one of the premature finality of your life; whatever mangled state of your body that would satisfy Snoke was only to be collected once your soul had left in the wake of his fury. Thinking of how the only people who’ve ever met him at such a low rank as you was blood-stilling; there were only stories of demise, grave retellings of endless officers never leaving the doomed automatic doors. Though you’d anticipated at least another month before you’d take your last breath, the closer you came to meeting the superior of superiors you reconsidered that date, your mind racing to think of every last statement you’d made to those you cared for. Would the last familiar face you’d ever see really be that of a nameless physician as he knelt over your co-worker’s seizing body? Nothingness crowded the corners of your attention, too many regrets and unfulfilled wishes tearing through every last gnarled second you had.

The two goons took hold of you again, this time instead gripping into your axillae and elbows. The gesture was suspicious, laced with motives unknown to you when they didn’t apply pressure. They were waiting on something they’d come to expect, or something they’d been instructed to anticipate. Whichever it was, you couldn’t see a reason to struggle against them; there was no escaping this, there was no way around your fate here. The only things left to do were endure and survive, and you weren’t even sure how much control you had over either at the moment.

The first set of doors hissed open as the diagonal split revealed a second, the perpendicular opening of the outer set offering a shutter-like introduction to the room. In the first half second of taking in your new surroundings, not even having left the elevator yet, your lungs shriveled in on themselves as a ragged strike of unadulterated pain rang through your skull. With every last remaining breath came an unintelligible utterance of curses and shrieks. It felt like every sutured connection of your skull was coming apart, your ears ringing with a piercing screech while your throat shredded against every new scrambled soundwave. The only thing keeping you vertical was the guards’ support, your legs forgetting their purpose as each nerve ending twisted in torment. White hot fury licked at each synapse until your head seemed it would implode, sound no longer registering as the worst of it fringed out over your spine and down your tailbone, eyes searing into the impossible agony behind pinched lids.

Torture had a knack for disproving the existence of time; it was unclear how long you’d been screaming when your ears tuned back in, hearing the remnants of a desecrated voice as it faltered into heavy heaves of breath. The armored soldiers were seemingly trained in the ramifications of this event, only releasing you when you had just enough strength and consciousness to support yourself, vision coming back slowly as a loud clack and hiss came from behind. Gathering the rest of your bearings you spun to find the exit had locked and the two guards had their staffs – equipped with electric blades at the tips – locked into an X behind you, further silent explanation of just how trapped you were.

“You’ll excuse the insurance,” a booming, slithering, rattled voice came, commanding every nerve ending to fire at once, every life-sustaining system halting simultaneously. “I can’t risk this meeting getting back to your Master, now can I?”

The guards took a step forward, your own feet stumbling backwards as they ushered you further into the room. There was a walkway, at least ten paces long and five wide, which mirrored the dusky red coming from the overhead lights. The room was incredibly dark, shadows billowing from each support lining the expansive space. Taking one last backward step, your shoe scuffed against the black-mirrored tile, a jumpstart to your heart as you caught view of the true enrapturement that enveloped you currently.

The far wall was a muted red, light evading it as it stretched upward, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the shadow-thick ceilings. Beside you were two railings, only ending when the walkway opened into a geometric stage. Saliva abandoned your mouth when you pictured being cast down into the unknown emptiness which framed you at either side. Drawing closer, harsh-yet-steady steps forcing you forward, an undeniable dread formed at the sight of several torture-entailing apparatuses scattered about the arena; two platforms rose slightly from the floor, mirrored in their placement as two more hung just above them. For all you knew, one of them would be your likely demise.

There was power in giving the Supreme Leader your attention, so instead you focused on that which framed him, feeling a nauseating sense of violation as his stare seeped into your presence. Six red-armored men framed him, three on either side, all of which held various versions of the weapons which buzzed behind you, a warning raging on as each zap rippled new goosebumps into your scalp. Without a single mistaken glance, your eyes traced the throne that framed your Supreme Leader; the grandiosity of its height intermixed with the cold architecture it stemmed from created an unease rooted in the discomfort  that something so dull and lifeless could emerge a sense of such utter intimidation.

A halo of bright white burst from below the cathedra, framing the symmetrical sterility just above the incline it sat upon. You’d passed the railing by now, losing a sense of hopeless protection in its absence. The only thing that quelled your fears of being catapulted into the abyss was the fact that it hadn’t happened already. Seemingly, given you were still breathing – though, the quality of each breath could be questioned – there was a purpose in your being here, an exception to the expendability with which the officers that came before you had been plagued.

The footsteps stopped, yours following suit just one pace ahead of them. Between your feet you studied the excruciating eyes peering back at you, wondering how much more pain or violence or trauma they could endure before they lost every bit of life they once held. It astonished you how bleak they’d already become, how unrecognizable you appeared in the glinting pool of ebony below. To look into your eyes now was to plead with the past, beg to go back, wish that you’d never crossed paths with Kylo Ren.

But then another thought, quick and biting and familiar, trickled into the blown reflected pupils: you couldn’t wholeheartedly make that request anymore. Even facing whatever haunting future Snoke would present, there was a rejection in considering never meeting your Master. Though he’d completely uprooted every aspect in your life, entirely deconstructed your every belief, in facing the unknown – whether it be death or something worse – you knew that part of you had grown to want him. To need him, even. A fog of regret clouded your vision when you remembered the last words you’d said to him. This doesn’t fix everything.

And maybe it didn’t, maybe you still held reservations to preserve whatever remaining self-respect you clung to. But if given the chance to go back ten minutes, to be in his arms again, to feel him so warm and so close? To instead forgive what he’d done, even if it meant compromising your pride? Right now, periphery dancing around the blurry frame of the Supreme Leader, you would take it without thought. If you were to be haunted by one last thing, let it be the pitiful nonexistence of your spine instead of the ache taking root imagining never seeing the black-winged Adonis which held your every thought.

“It’s disquieting,” Snoke said, introspection and examination flagrant on his tongue, “to feel familiar with such a young, useless officer.”

There was nothing left to look at, no more metallic stylings to admire. The last object of your attention sat before you atop the soulless steel, lounging lazily against the backing. He wore a robe dripping in gold-flecked thread, his lower body encased in the wrappings. At his waist sat a tie to keep the article tight against his abdomen, leading to the exceedingly low V of the robe’s opening. The skin that lied beneath was marbled in scars which echoed the remnants of a life lived in war. Though, given his rank, his authority, you already knew that to be true.

Talons sprung from bleak fingers, tips tracing into the fronts of either armrest in repetitive horizontal paths. The sight begged the question if he was entirely human, such an animalistic quality forcing your teeth together with fear. Quickly, though, inquiry was replaced with a blaring affirmation; the face that peered back at you incited astonishment of the coldest nature. Even then, was it even a face? Or just the personification of withered, battle-bludgeoned, venom-stained malice?

A shiver shook your chest, eyes too enthralled in the chaos of features to care about social niceties. Agony tinged into your blood, eyes blinking back the sight of the knots of flesh constructing his neck, burrowing notches creating pathways leading to an unknown you’d prefer not to think about. Half his face chinked into itself, a hollowed-out cheek splaying into stretched, melded strings of scarred skin. An asymmetrical mount of flesh stood where his nose supposedly was, two crystal-clear sea green eyes lopsided at either side of it. Above the caverns of his sockets laid a semi-centered gash sinking unsettlingly far into his scalp.

Though he’d done nothing to provoke it other than exist, you feared him. Briefly you considered if he’d become this way purposefully, wondering if his outward appearance worked advantageously towards his goal at inciting sheer terror in his victims. In the comfortable distance you fought to keep your jaw shut, senses overpowered by the gnarled suggestion of life founded in your Supreme Leader.

He tore through your first and last name in guttural pronunciation, metal walls screaming back the echo of your name as it reverberated from his mouth into your soul. “Ranked forty-eight out of one hundred and twenty graduates. Born to no one of acclaim. Heir to nothing. Yet, provider to my prodigy.” He still sat back, words clawing into you as you imagined his talons could. “Why do you think that is, officer?”

Swallowing against your throat, spit nowhere to be found, your lips parted in hesitance, not knowing if he actually wanted you to answer. He said nothing, eyes scraping over your stature with every suffocating second you took before speaking. “Supreme Leader,” you faltered out, thoughts barely forming. “It’s an honor to-,”

“I have no time for pleasantries or half-witted pleadings.”

“Sorry sir – err, Supreme Leader. Won’t happen ag-,”

“It will be to your benefit to only speak when spoken to.” His glare withered every remaining fragment of hope which resided just behind your eyes. “Now, tell me, why do you think you have the position that you do?” Every word slithered from him in an encrypted riddle.

Trembling fingers flexed at your sides, your heart racing into indiscernibility. “I was chosen by Commander Ren. I know this.”

“Precisely.” He brought his dusk-tinted claws in front of him, bringing their tips together to form a sharp angle. “Have you ever questioned your placement? Wondered why you weren’t vetted for the assignment?”

“In the beginning, yes.”

“Not anymore, though, no?”

It was obvious he was leading you into a trap, though you didn’t know why. “No.” Simple answers offered the most protection from such a predator as Snoke.

A low, rolling hum of gravel came from his throat, his mouth forming into a knowing smirk. The sight stabbed through your sternum. “It’s fortunate that I’ve chosen to make use of you. Calculated answers don’t bode well here, I’d suggest being more forthcoming before I change my mind.”

Pulling your lips into your teeth, you stared into the reflected blue mirroring you. “I found it questionable that I would be chosen for such an esteemed position, yes. I struggled with it for nearly two months while being assigned to my Master. I’ve since overcome whatever doubts I had.”

“It seems you shouldn’t have—” he brought his arms back down, fingers molding against the stark angle of the armrest while he leaned forward slightly “—given your upcoming trial and the events which preceded it. How much longer do you have before your initial hearing?”

“One week, sir. Exactly seven days from today.”

“And how do you suspect that will go, officer? Any early predictions? Gut feelings?”

Though you knew he wasn’t anywhere near you, his appearance – cunning and close-chested – suggested he had taken residence in your head, his questions barely questions and instead breadcrumbs. “I trust the Board will make an educated, unbiased decision. However they end up voting.”

“And the sentencing, the only thing in question is your license, yes? Nothing of more… consequence?”

This was no time to have a smart mouth, though your tongue tingled to question his motives. “My license will be revoked no matter the judgement I receive,” you said, listening as the truth slit through your efforts to avoid it, knowing completely he was making you do so purposely, “I’m being tried for my life.”

“Hm. Remind me, girl,” the way the identifier purred out sent a shudder down your arms, “how did this all start? What did you do to prompt such an uproar?”

He knew all of these answers already, only asking them to see you squirm, to force you to acknowledge his authority. “I took supplies from my Master without the proper permission to acquire them.” He didn’t want or need to hear your argument surrounding the ordeal.

“Certainly a competent professional such as yourself would have good reason to do so, correct?”

A huff of indignant air nearly escaped at the suggestion. “Not one good enough, apparently.” A flash of the man’s face came before you, remembering the way warmth flooded over your fingers while compressing his neck.

“Ah, but you disagree.”

Staring back at him, you could feel the coaxing of his implication, your eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “My thoughts are of no importance, Supreme Leader.”

A contained frenzy lit his expression before he slowly stood from the desolate throne. “Don’t discount yourself entirely, officer. Your thoughts are of much value at the moment,” the robe moved fluidly against him, like it was anatomically attached to his physique.

“How do you mean?” It was growing difficult to keep his stare, wanting nothing more than to drill your eyes to the floor.

“Maybe not your thoughts directly, but thoughts that resemble your presence, your frequency per se.” He formed another pyramid in front of his chest, eyes narrowing into you as he paced on the inclined platform. “However unknowingly, you have become quite the obstacle in Ren’s focus.”

“Sir?” He wasn’t making sense. Whatever he thought had to be a misunderstanding.

“It’s only recently become an issue of mine, hence why I allowed it for so long. And your disruption has proven an asset, in a way turning my disadvantage to an equitable benefit.”

There was no other respectable way to tell him you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, so you stood there, eyes tracking his patterned steps while he kept you locked under his own. “Such a young, impressionable officer. The odds were against you to begin with, so I can see the allure his power had, see how you could be so ignorant to the consequences of your decision. Well, I suppose it wasn’t your decision alone, was it?”

A furious intuition rang in your ears to keep still, to disallow any reactions to his speech, to try and tune it out completely if you could. He was walking you down a dangerous path of admission. Again you stayed silent, barely breathing now.

“I suppose I should make my point.” He stopped moving in his repetitive paths and began the descent towards you, your pulse rioting in your chest. “You are to stop all relations and contact with your Master, Commander Ren. Professional or otherwise.”

That momentary intuition turned into a permanent mental siren, skin burning as you realized Snoke knew; he knew about you and Kylo, and you didn’t know how much or how long or how or why. The only thought that could form was one of complete infraction upon your privacy. Paranoia catalyzed a brewing insanity, inwardly questioning ever interaction you’d had with your Master, backtracking routes to imagine any covert cameras or onlookers. If Snoke knew, so did the Board. This solidified your execution. This stole your future. And all you could think of was how stupid you’d been to believe it would’ve resulted in anything other than your own pain and suffering.

“Of course I hate to be the one to get in the way of young love, but-,”

“What? I don’t love him.” The objection came before the words had formed in thought, fast and fumbled as you rejected his phrasing.

Snoke’s face fell to a disinterested snarl, his steps leading him ever closer as his robe draped off of him, smoke following fire. “I don’t care about the details, only that your existence in Commander Ren’s—” a small, terrible smirk turned his expression sinister “—Kylo’s, I suppose, life has begun to distract him from his duties.”

“And how would you know any of this is true? What if you’ve received false information?”

“Speak when spoken to, girl!” He flung out a hand, with it coming the most intense blockade to oxygen you’d ever experienced, blood immediately pounding against your skull. “Did you really think it was a coincidence you were the only officer to receive a letter upon arrival to the Finalizer? Did you think yourself so entirely special and set apart that I, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, would care enough – or at all – to welcome the most lackluster provider in the program?” He was full on roaring, ears pierced with each booming, malicious redundancy.

He began to circle you, your feet lifting from the floor as the Force continued to steal your breath. “It made no sense for Ren to request such a subpar provider as you, so I gathered intel, placed surveillance of my own, formed a team to compile all the information and present it to me when it became an issue as I knew it would from the beginning.”

Heaves of wordless pleas came as you gripped onto your own throat, clawing at hands that weren’t there, vision blackening as time went on. “I’ve watched you, seen your friends, listened to your conversations.” A hysterical, crazed laugh bellowed from him, the scraps of skin over his neck bouncing in rhythm. “You didn’t even think twice about being the only provider to live with her Master. Didn’t even have the brainpower to suspect something was off. Stupid, emotional girl.” The darkness in the clear blue of his eyes was unsettling, like there was no soul behind them at all. “You are not, and will never be, special. You will only ever be the start and end of the issue.”

By now your lips were surely blue, the vessels in your eyes on the verge of explosion, but he was relentless in his point. “You’ve quite the stamina, though I regard there isn’t much choice involved,” he said, sly staining his features. “I could be wrong, given I’ve only heard a few of your… interactions, and viewed just one. Though, I can’t believe you’d want anything to do with him after the incident last month.”

If it could, blood would be filling your cheeks with a desert heat fueled by the fires of embarrassment and disgust at the thought of Snoke knowing about your relationship, let alone hearing you, seeing you, have your will taken away. Every sexual interaction you’d shared with Kylo ran quick and fleeting across your fading sight, wondering which ones he was referring to, simultaneously wanting to know and to never think of the fact ever again. Although the invisible grip kept strong around your neck, you felt the urge to vomit, to reject completely the knowledge he’d just given you.

“Trial this, door that, practice this, Robbie that. All of these things lie just below the forefront of his mind, distractions from his true responsibilities. And they all focus around you and your pathetic, meaningless life.” Snoke bit off the words as spit sprayed in the low light.

Altogether his hand came down and your knees crumbled onto the floor below, the joints screaming in protest while your lungs flourished with new, vibrant gusts of oxygen. Palms pressed to the floor, spit coughing past your lips and onto your reflected face, you allowed your body to find equilibrium, all the while aware of the predacious nature of Snoke’s paces.

“What can I do that will fix any of this?” There was no longer a need to show respect, bluntness forming over your tongue now as hiccups of breath swelled in your chest.

“As I mentioned, you may have started this ordeal, but you will be the one to end it as well.” His steps stopped just in your periphery, a long pause forming between you, his own reflected face just feet from yours. “I’ve chosen to take this as an opportunity to both refocus Ren and reinforce his priorities, and you’ll find this arrangement will be beneficial to the both of us,” his pitch rose just enough as he said your last name to run creeping chills down your arms.

“If I’m such a wrench in your plans, why not just kill me? Wouldn’t it be easier?” Sitting back on your heels you rubbed your temples, vision still not wanting to focus.

“Easier, yes. Though, ending your life would barely serve to my advantage. I don’t understand why, but Ren is rather invested in you. To kill you would be to make him my enemy, and I still have use for him and his legacy as of now.”

“I will never, ever, do your dirty work. You disgust me.” Blinking back in the light, his second face met the first and aligned into one solid image, your pulse still pounding in your ears.

“Don’t make up your mind so fast, officer. I believe once you hear the exchange I’ll make for your compliance that you will be more than eager to join forces.”

He was the most repulsive being you had ever laid eyes on, or ever had to exist with that you’d ever met; a disgusting, selfish, transactional man – still up for debate – who only did anything to advance his own agenda. It was easy to identify what amplified the blood in your veins, to know the culprit that prickled your cheeks in rage. Within you, staring up at this thing, all you knew was how overwhelming the feeling of pure, centered, unrivaled hatred was when it rooted at your sternum and spread until every cell in your body screamed in protest at his presence.

“Even if you did have anything I’d ever want, I would never accept it. I have a duty to protect and serve my Master. Only him. Never you.”

“You’re more oblivious than I thought,” he said, beginning his circling again as you listened to the shifting echo of his voice. “I suppose I’ll put two-and-two together for you: in exchange for your gracious compliance, I will ensure you come out of your trial with not only your life – however small and pointless it may be – but also your license to practice.”

He stopped behind you, your face hidden from his observance. The two guards stood firm in their blockading of any exit, the two open abysses free to jump into anytime, though you didn’t believe you held the courage to off yourself. Someone else would need to do it. You wished someone would, now.

Devastation cut into your intestines as you realized you had begun to consider his offer; to your utter disturbance, he held exactly what you wanted, what you knew you needed. A guarantee so grand could only be made by a man of his caliper, the strings he held both incredibly invisible yet impressive in their multitudes. Snoke had the power to make this part of your life disappear, to pluck you out of this misery like it never happened in the first place. But as you regarded earlier, you didn’t know if you wanted to leave the entirety of this season, portraits of perfect lips flickering into your thoughts and reminding you of the compliance you’d be tasked with, noting Snoke had yet to explain it.

Swallowing, hating yourself for considering him, you closed your eyes. “If I accepted, what would I need to do?”

“When you accept, you would simply have to quit Ren’s service. Tell him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Tell him how he disgusts you. How everything he does, every person he kills is makes you sick. Tell him how he’s an irredeemable bastard who isn’t worthy of your… care. Tell him how for the past month it was easier to hate him than it was to breathe. It’s that simple.”

A terrifying ripple of regret tore through you, inwardly regarding how all of those things had been true. They had been. However long ago it was now, though, this morning had worked to undo nearly all of those damages. “You know it’s not simple,” you bit back a derogatory name, still aware of the bottomless pits framing the platform, “why does it have to come from me? Why can’t you tell him? Or Hux? Why does it have to be me?”

“You are the key, officer.” He came back into view, his presence prompting you back to your feet, arms crossed and face flat. “If anyone else were to inform him, it would be clinical. Corporate. You and I both know Ren isn’t keen on being told what to do, especially when there is no reason for him to do so.”

Slowly your heart was coming down, fingers digging into your arms as he continued to speak. “But from you, oh from you,” he emphasized, his tone growing in volume and exuberance, “it will be a personal attack on his soul. For someone he regards with such admiration, though ill-placed and confused, to tell him they don’t want him…”

“It will break him,” you finished the thought, voice a broken whisper.

“And in turn undo the damage you’ve caused. Something I’ve come to realize in my lifetime: betrayal is a powerful motivator.”

Was it selfish to believe that what you’d caused wasn’t damage? To choose to view how his thoughts caressed you as something wonderful and worthy of cherishing instead of a plague which poisoned him? To even have that knowledge now incited the light from a million stars. To know that his stunt last month was brought on by doubts placed by the same man who was recruiting you to hurt him in an irreversible way was to feel your heart piece back together. He really hadn’t wanted to, but in some way he was made to. Within your chest lied an immeasurable amount of disgust, eating away at your withering resolve. Not for Snoke, but for yourself. Taking any opportunity to stall your decision, you fought back tears while inquiring further.

“And if I choose not to? What then?”

Snoke’s eyes momentarily lit, surprise quickly returning to a shuddering contempt. “You would die for him? Give your life for Kylo Ren, the one who made you-,”

“Don’t you dare say anything about that night. You’re the one who instigated his actions, I know it.”

Like it had been there all along, a bright white fury shone against your face, the clean blade of Snoke’s lightsaber buzzing just next to your ear. You listened as hair singed off, smelled as it blew down to your shoulder in its fried state.

“Even so,” he said, apathy palpable in his voice, “you asked what would happen if you refused? Well, it wouldn’t make sense for me to kill you here and now, debilitating any future opportunity I would have at using you to my advantage.”

The weapon’s heat started to burn against the sensitive skin of your face, its proximity prompting sweat at your hairline. “No, if you refuse me, blatantly renounce your Supreme Leader, I’d use much more effective, much more… personalized tactics.” He angled the lightsaber so its tip was just below your ear lobe, its vibrations lingering into the trembling skin over your neck. “Maybe first I’d finish what Ren couldn’t in that McCarty physician you like so much. Though I’d still ensure you endured your trial, even when I would make it impossible for the Board to grant you your life. Maybe even arrange to execute you myself,” he narrowed his eyes, “or, I’m sure Ren would have no problem volunteering himself after I tell him how you informed me of your affair in an effort to quit his service.”

A rage-stuttered laugh came from your chest. “You’re the irredeemable bastard.”

Snoke snarled once more before quieting the white fury of his blade, your sight inking in its absence. “This is a one-time offer, girl. Don’t let the urgency of your youth blind you from your reality.”

It only angered you more that he was making sense. “And what would that be?”

The flesh at his jaw set uncomfortably against his healed injury. “You have something I need, and I have something you need. It’s simple business.”

“Nothing about this will ever be simple.” The phrase was vacant in tone and broken with acceptance.

He knew he was about to get what he wanted. “Do we have a deal, officer?” He extended his decrepit hand, a notion of finality.

Shaking your head, one single tear – hot and betraying and shattered – ran down your cheek, your head a concoction of torment. You didn’t want to do this at all, but just as he’d done to Kylo, Snoke wriggled your head full of contradicting truths. Truths you had worked hard to suppress, truths which lied dormant until now. A half-skip in your heart bloomed from the thought of never spending another moment with your Master, a harrowing torrent of guilt as you regarded his verbalized trust, visualizing how entirely decimated it would be when this was over. Not even decimated. Completely obliterated. Like it never existed in the first place.

“When does this have to be done by?” you whimpered, hand falling into his before his knotted joints cracked into your knuckles.

“By the end of today, if Kylo Ren hasn’t returned to his focus, your trial will become the biggest waste of time and currency the galaxy will ever bear witness to.” He dropped your hand, clasping his together within the confines of his robe, turning back to his throne. “Take her away.”

Not that you were aware, physically or mentally, your arms were ceased once more as your feet dragged lifelessly below you, face stunted as hatred burned below the surface, floods of shame and loathing dripping down your neck and staining into your uniform. The trip back down seemed impossibly short, though you didn’t know if that was due to its direction or your indifference. Before, your only thought had been never leaving from Snoke’s presence. Now, as you stared into the bustling crowds of the Finalizer, the doors locking shut behind you as your earlier captors vaulted back to their leader, your only thoughts were focused on the harm you were indebted to cause. A pain that scraped against the very foundation of your being. A pain you were now required to deliver.

“Hey, stranger!” Mason came out of nowhere, his cheery voice violent against your somber ears.

“I can’t talk right now, Mason,” you said, hiding your face and turning towards the Elite lobby.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did Ren do some-,”

“Go away, Mason!”

He caught you by your wrist, your arm lurching back towards him before he caught view of your crushing expression. He lulled your name, eyes dancing over your features. “What is this about? Your trial?”

Lips trembling and brow creased, you yanked your arm from his. “Don’t worry about the trial, Mason. It’s handled.”

Turning away from him you dashed into the crowds. “What does that even mean?” Mason shouted at you.

A heave crested your back, face split in an agonizing grimace while you licked salty tears from your mouth. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, only saying it out loud to solidify the reality Snoke had pointed out.

“It means I have to go home.”

[minheefreckles]

Headcannon - X1 hyung line as boyfriends

Word count: 1.9k

Warning(s): none!

Genre: Fluff, bulletpoint scenario, headcannon

Requested?: Yes!

Seungwoo

Seungwoo would first and foremost be a very very caring boyfriend

It doesn’t matter if he’s busy or not, if you tell him that you miss him and want some cuddles or something, he would drop everything he’s currently doing to go to you and give you those cuddles >:((

Even if you scolded him playfully saying that he shouldn’t drop everything just for you, he would be like “mm ok baby” and just continue nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck

He would also be very protective, not in a “you shouldn’t wear that revealing piece of clothing outside” kinda way, but rather in a “if somebody hurts you, i’ll kill them” way

If you trip or something and you’re injured, expect him to immediately whip out a first aid kit out of nowhere and start tending to your injury, even if you two are in public

He would absolutely be the type to scold you lightly, saying stuff like “you’re so clumsy, you need to be more careful!”

But if he sees you getting sad and guilty because of his scolding, then he’ll just smile slightly and after tending to your injury, he’ll kiss it lightly, which never fails to make you smile

Seungwoo would also definitely not mind PDA

He loves showing his affection for you

Giving you eskimo kisses or grasping your hand in his and swinging them side to side

Those were a few of his favorite things to do with you

If you’re feeling upset and need somebody to listen to you ranting about your problems, Seungwoo is the perfect man for that

Imagine the two of you laying down on your couch, your head on his chest and your arms around his torso or waist

As you get more comfortable, you start to spill out all the things that have been troubling you lately

Seungwoo listens to every single one of your problems, giving small advice sometimes or letting out some “mm”s to let you know that he’s still listening very attentively

After you finish your rant, most of the time, he would give you his own opinion on the situation and after discussing it out, he would sing to you in his soft voice and you would eventually fall asleep, lulling you to sleep

In your relationship, Seungwoo would most likely be the one to organize dates

His favorite dates would be just the both of you baking some cookies or something on the weekends or after work/school and then sitting down and enjoying them while watching a movie on netflix

Maybe it is kinda childish and old-fashioned but it just warms his heart when he sees you giggling while dipping a cookie in a glass of milk and gently munching on them

in conclusion, seungwoo is a very caring boyfriend whose main priority would be your well-being and happiness :))

Seungyoun

A relationship with Seungyoun would be sooo much fun

And also very spontaneous

When you’re with him, you will absolutely never get bored or sad

He’s always there to cheer you up, whether it’ll be telling you cheesy pick up lines he googled online to make you crack a smile

or suddenly showing up at your place with your favorite movies and food to cheer you up after a hard day of work

Seungyoun is the type of guy to show you love with both words and actions just to make sure that you really understand that he loves you so so much

He would definitely be clingy, always back-hugging you with his chin on your shoulder or cuddling you or telling you that he loves you at least 15 times a day

Yes, “I love you” is very special, but since he’s absolutely 100% sure he loves you, he isn’t afraid of saying it often

One of his habits would be to text you every morning a sweet reminder that he loves you and tells you to have a good day

exhibit one: “good morning sunshine! hope you’re having a good day! did you sleep well?”

or “hIII!! *insert a fuckton of heart emoji* are you up yet, babe?  did you dream of me last night ;)))))”

You guys go on a lot of last-minute planned dates, although sometimes, on important occasions, he’ll plan them in advance

He just wants to explore the world with you!!

Expect his instagram feed to be plenty of candid pics he took of you while you weren’t looking

Even though he’s very free and happy most of the time, if he ever sees you crying or getting hurt, he’ll immediately turn into serious mode >:((

Gently putting an arm around your shoulders or cradling you in his arms to indirectly you know that he’s there for you

“Whats wrong babe?” :(((((

All in all, Seungyoun’s just a very precious bf please protecc

Wooseok

wooseok, first of all, would be a very clingy and cheesy boyfriend

he may look shy and delicate in public, but when he’s alone with you, he’s just so adorable and cheesy

he adores when you take care of him and give him attention

he’s definitely the type to put his contact name in your phone as something like “my handsome prince wooseok 💓💕💖💗💘💙💚💛💜💝💞💟🧡❤️🖤”

Or the type to take 100+ selfies on your phone just “so you can look at his pictures when you miss him :))”

Even though he’s pretty confident in himself, he would be very shy when you initiate PDA

He’s just so used to be the one to initiate it so when you hug him or peck his cheeks, he would be blushing so hard and whining

“Ah, how do you expect me to stay calm when you’re so cute??”

Most of the time though, he’ll be the fine to initiate pda

He absolutely adores back-hugging you and nuzzling his face in your hair (because he loves the smell of your shampoo but doesn’t want to admit it in case you thought it would be creepy sjsjsj)

Wooseok would honestly also be the type to take you out on very aesthetic-ish dates and take a fuckton of pictures and post the best one on his very aesthetic instagram

You guys are pretty t h e aesthetic couple

Dates on coffee or walks to the ice cream shop would be pretty frequent

But most of the time, quality time at home alone, watching tv on the couch and cuddling, those would be the type of dates you guys would enjoy the most together

He also loves calling you cheesy nicknames out of the blue just to see your reaction

Finds you so adorable when you get all flustered and blushing and would pinch your cheeks while muttering about how he’s so lucky to have such a cute significant other

He would also be so extra

Does that thing where he pretends to search for something in his pocket and then gives you a finger heart

He also absolutely adores it when you wear his clothes

Will flip his shit if he sees you wear one of his t-shirts

He’d just be so shy and he automatically hides his face in his hands while hiding a small smile

He’ll drown you with even more love and affection

to sum it up, he just loves you so much and he’s so soft :((

Yohan

A relationship with Yohan would be chaotic, in the best way possible

Just like Seungyoun, he loves exploring the world with you, maybe in a less spontaneous way though

Will try to teach you taekwondo but you guys just end up cuddling and giggling on the mat

He loves taking you out on small, casual dates

Walks to the Han river or bike rides in a park

They’re his favorite types of dates because, since he loves both you and sports, he gets to spend time with the things/people he enjoys the most

He tries to be cheesy (lowkey asks Seungyoun and Wooseok to teach him pick up lines), but fails most of the time because he ends up cringing at himself and awkwardly giggling

You’re his own personal teddy bear, because he just loves to hug you 24/7

Gripping your waist tightly between his strong arms and lifting you up, smiling as he hears you squeal and finally putting you down when you start hitting his arm

It’s you guys’ own form of banter and even if the others always look at you strangely every time you do it, you both still find it so funny and adorable

Yohan would love to take you out on cafe dates, where he tries to take aesthetic candid pics of you but fails and only has blurry pics, but still uploads them on insta because “you’re always pretty no matter the quality of the pic”

Would spoil you with a lot of gifts and as much as you love every one of them and appreciate it, you try to make him understand that you love him not because of his gifts, but for his personality

So in the end, he tones it down a bit lol but you still love him all the same

Loves waking you up early to go do some morning exercises and always loves seeing you whine because its too early

But he always manages to convince you with a whiny “please :((( for me :(((“ and his puppy face

You guys ends up sitting down and seeing the sunrise together !!

In conclusion :) yohan is a precious bub

Hangyul

Ok but imagine tsundere!hangyul :)

I feel like Hangyul would treat you just like the guys, like a friend, maybe a bit less roughly, when you’re in public or with the others

PDA would be very casual when there’s other people around, his arm’s usually around your shoulder and he would give you a kiss on the forehead from time to time

But when you two are alone, he would definitely get more shy

He would get so flustered if you were the one to initiate all types of affection

Most of the times, he seems very cold and distant, but he’s just shy :((

If he’s having a bad day, he wouldn’t go to you and open himself, etc

He would go to his room and start sulking, waiting for you to come cuddle him and comfort him softly, and that’s most of the time exactly what you do

You would be the big spoon and lace your arm around his waist, tangling your legs together, your hand softly tousling his hair, and you guys would stay like that until he either falls asleep or feels better or both lol

Most of you guys’ dates would just be watching netflix or tv at home

If you’re scared of horror movies, he would put one on just so you can cuddle in his arms when there’s a jumpscare and would tease you for it after

And oh my god, hangyul would love teasing you so much

However, if he realizes that you’re insecure about something, he would never never tease you about it

On the contrary, he would tell you that he loves every part about you, including your insecurity

I feel like he would also love showing off his muscles, for some reason??

Just randomly flexing his biceps when you’re cooking and being all cocky

You guys would also have plenty of inside jokes in the relationship, which sometimes earns you strange looks from strangers or the other members

In the end, a relationship with hangyul would be very very fun and wholesome :)

Hyung line - Maknae line (to be continued)

Masterlist 

[kimtanathegeek]

Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 28

*sighs* Well...we had to get here someday....

Thanks for reading! :)

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.  

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.  

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Sans was in an absolute panic.

He had to use every ounce of sense within him to resist the urge to dive over the waterfall after Papyrus. He pulled himself back from the edge, shaking violently and hyperventilating. Tears fell from his eyes like the waters down the falls as he paced back and forth, trying to bring his reeling mind back so he could think.

He didn’t want to believe that Papyrus was gone. But he’d seen him disappear into the darkness.

He couldn’t believe his brother was gone. It was all his fault.

Sans came to a sudden halt. He gripped his skull, shut his eyes tight, doubled over, and screamed in anguish from the very bottom of his soul until his lungs were empty of all air.

He stood back up, his throat throbbing, his vision blurry, gasping for breath, and rushed to the edge.

No. He’s not gone. He’s not dead. He can’t be.

He staggered to the very edge, tears falling from his face into the void below. Then he wiped his tears and narrowed his eyes as he clenched his teeth, throwing any thought that his brother was dead into the wind. He raised his left hand and made a series of twelve bone platforms down the cliff face near the waterfall, each a few feet below the other and sat down on the top one.

I’m coming, Papyrus. I’m going to find you. Just hang on. Please hang on.

A sob escaped his torn throat. He made the platform he was sitting on disappear, causing him to fall down to the next one with a thump. He made the next one disappear, and fell to the one below that. He kept descending like this, the only way he could think of other than jumping blindly as his heart so desperately wanted him to do.

As he reached the end of the platforms, he created a dozen more. His body was hurting from landing on the bones after each fall, but he didn’t care. He descended rapidly, his platform creation and removal becoming so automatic, he barely needed to concentrate.

Eventually he had gone down the cliff so far that he, too, was enveloped in darkness. He created a blue bone and tossed it down, watching it fall into the void until it suddenly disappeared.

He kept going.

Another dozen platforms made, another dozen removed. He created and dropped another blue bone, watching it plummet. This time, the bone illuminated a body of water under it before splashing in, sinking into the depths and out of sight.

It’s not bottomless! Sans gasped, the first spark of hope igniting in his soul.

He removed the remaining platforms, one by one, falling onto each subsequent one, then let himself freefall after he made the last platform disappear. He fell through the darkness a short distance before suddenly hitting the surface of the water, submerging in the watery void. He opened his eyes, but it was as if they were closed, the darkness was so total.

He swam to the top, breaking through the surface, gasping and coughing. He bobbed in the water, utterly exhausted from his panic. He created another blue bone under water and raised it up above his head, looking around.

It was difficult to see anything in the pitch-dark, but the blue-white light reflected off the water, allowing him to see shadows in the bone’s light. The body of water he was treading was large, but he couldn’t see where the edges were in the darkness. There were formations all around, like tiny islands, rising up around the area.

He swam, one-armed, towards one of the formations, holding up the bone with his other hand as he cried out.

“Papyrus! Papyrus!!!”

His voice was drowned out by the cacophonous waterfalls surrounding the area and the pounding in his head from his anxiety.

Sans pulled himself out of the water, collapsing on the ground from overexertion. He was shivering uncontrollably from the chill and his increasing panic, the blue bone’s light shaking as it illuminated the island. He struggled to stand, his legs and knees shaking terribly.

The land wasn’t made of soil or mud, but of things. Broken wooden items, useless weapons, soggy fabrics, and various, rotting substances that Sans couldn’t identify, all piled up in the huge mound he was standing on. He covered his nose from the horrific stench as his eyes darted around, looking for his brother.

When he didn’t find him on the island, he flung the blue bone over to the next island and jumped into the water, swimming frantically to it. The second island was the same as the first—a mound of broken, decaying refuse. Once again, he searched the small mound for Papyrus, then tossed the blue bone to the next island with a strained grunt.

When the bone landed, Sans gasped. In the blue-white light was his little brother’s body, his head and chest on the bank of the mound, his pelvis and legs bobbing in the waters.

“Pap!!!”

Sans dove into the water and swam urgently to the mound, the rush of determination shoving aside his weariness. He pulled himself out of the water, a sob tearing from his chest as he looked at his brother, motionless on his stomach, his head at an awkward angle, with the tail of his drenched red scarf plastered to his back.

Sans carefully turned him onto his back and pulled him up so that he was no longer in the waters that had stolen him. He fell to his knees and put his ear to his brother’s mouth. He felt nothing against the side of his skull, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach.

Immediately, Sans sat on the ground with his legs out straight and pulled his brother up against him as he bent both knees slightly, digging his bare heels into the debris. He laid Papyrus down over his legs so that his ribcage was against his knees, his head facing downward, and started pounding his spine where it met his ribcage in short, hard, upward thumps with his hands, fingers interlaced.

“C’mon, Pap,” he sobbed, trying to keep his panic down while he performed the maneuver his parents had taught him—lessons for an emergency, such as this.

Papyrus’ soaked body moved only when struck, not responding, as the terror gripped Sans’ soul. Still, he continued, straining to count in between movements.

After several moments of striking his upper back, water trickled out of the little skeleton’s jaws, then he started coughing up water. Sans cried tears of joy as he continued thumping his brother’s back until the coughs were dry.

“That’s it,” Sans coaxed, tears flowing down his face. “Get it up. Get it all up....”

Papyrus coughed and gasped for air, then began crying loudly. Sans lowered his knees as he turned his brother over, pulling him up to embrace him, rocking him gently and gratefully.

“I’m here, Papyrus,” he wept into his brother’s shoulder as his brother cried uncontrollably. “It’s ok. You’re ok. You’re ok now.”

Papyrus’ wailing didn’t cease, which concerned Sans. He raised his knees up tight so he could lean his brother against them.

“Pap, what’s wrong?” Sans asked, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Hurts....” his brother sobbed, his eyes shut tightly. His face was contorted in agony.

Sans’ eyes searched for any visible injuries, but the little skeleton’s clothes covered most of his bones.

“Where, Pap?” Sans asked urgently. “Where does it hurt?”

“It hurts!” His cry was more high-pitched, filled with pain.

Sans pulled up his brother’s shirt carefully, and winced at what he saw. One of his ribs had broken off and was missing, while another was cracked. The lower part of his vertebrae, just above his pelvis, was slightly fractured.

He gently pulled the scarf around his neck loose, which caused Papyrus to emit a bloodcurdling scream, making Sans flinch in sympathy. He tugged cautiously at the collar of his brother’s shirt and saw that his collarbone was broken, and—most alarmingly—two of his cervical vertebrae were badly fractured.

“Oh, Pap...,” he breathed concernedly.

He checked his brother’s arms and legs, which were unscathed. Papyrus was still crying out in pain, breaking Sans’ heart.

“It’s all right,” he said, stroking the side of his brother’s head soothingly. “As soon as you eat, you’ll feel much better. Let’s get back up there and out of this place. Just hold on.”

He turned his brother so that he could cradle him in his arms as Papyrus screamed in pain with the movement. Sans shushed him gently, his brother unable to hear him through his tortured screams, as he carefully rose to his feet. He held Papyrus tightly, shut his eyes, and took a step.

Nothing happened.

Sans opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat in panic.

Why didn’t it work...?!

He closed his eyes again, pictured the pathway above, begging to be up there to the food in his bag, and took a step.

They remained on the mound.

“No,” Sans whimpered in fear. “No, no, no....”

He tried a third time, and, still, they were on the mound in the middle of nowhere.

Sans felt the panic grip his soul as his brother’s painful cries became more and more shrill. He had to get back up on that path. He had to get food into his brother urgently.

Maybe I need to be closer.... Maybe I’m too far down here.... It’s a long way down here from up there....

He looked over at the two islands he had searched before finding his brother. He figured that if he got to that first mound, he might be in better range. But he couldn’t swim, not with his brother so terribly injured. He had to be careful—one wrong move, and his brother’s fractured neck would snap, killing him. If he had thumped his brother’s back just slightly harder—the thought made him shudder horribly.

Sans knew he needed to make a bridge, so he cautiously raised his left hand as his arm helped bear the weight of his brother. But nothing happened.

“What?!” Sans breathed in shock.

He tried again—no white bones appeared.

Then the realization hit him like a slap across the face. The exhaustion he was suffering wasn’t from the ordeal. Between teleporting to the darkened area, trying to use the blue soul magic, creating and removing dozens of bone platforms, and making multiple blue bones, he had used up all his magic.

He went for his pocket to pull out the bag of dried fruit to replenish his magic so he could transport his brother to safety. His hand slipped into air as he gasped, then groaned in anguish—his jacket was still up on the pathway.

Sans stood on the mound, frozen with fear and helplessness—no magic, his critically injured brother screaming in pain in his arms, trapped in the watery darkness.

 -

 It took Sans a few moments to regain his thoughts.

Getting food into his brother was the highest priority right now. With great care, he laid his wailing brother back on the mound, rolling up the tail of his soaked scarf to pillow his head. His brother had not stopped crying, urging Sans to action quickly. Picking up the blue bone for light, he frantically searched around the mound for any sort of soil that might have mouseshroom nightlights growing in it. When he found none, he looked back at Papyrus, who was still weeping pitifully, before sticking the blue bone between his teeth and diving back into the water to search the next island.

Grasping onto the loose debris, Sans achingly pulled himself out of the water, finding another mound of discarded and rotting items. He stumbled, his body begging him to rest after depleting himself of magical and physical energy, but he refused. He held up the bone and searched the ground, his eyes scanning for anything edible.

“Please...,” he begged whatever forces were listening. “Please, give me something....”

The mound had nothing to offer, so he slipped into the water and headed to the next island, hoping to find actual ground instead of decaying refuse. Pulling himself up and out, he found yet another pile of rubbish. His soul fluttered in his chest momentarily when he saw a broken crate, filled with rotting apples.

“Just one, please,” he whispered, a whine tinging his voice, as he scrambled to get to it. “Just one....”

He picked up the crate and upended it, the rotten apples landing on the mound in a squelching, disgusting heap. He desperately ran his hands through the decayed fruit, his fingers searching for the hardness of a still-edible morsel. The entire crate’s worth was nothing but a liquified, reeking goop. Sans slammed his fists into the putrefied mess in dismayed frustration. A sob escaped his throat as panic once again clutched at him.

He picked the bone back up in his filth-covered hand, his eyes darting as they continued scanning the ground. His legs buckled, and he fell to the trash-covered ground on his hands and knees. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer like this, but he still pushed forward.

Sans returned to the water to swim to the next mound, his limbs numb in the water from cold and exhaustion. Eventually, he reached it and searched once more, found nothing, and swam to the next, repeating the motions mound after mound.

He grasped at the loose bank of yet another island of refuse, gasping and choking for air. His arms ached viciously, and his legs gave him great difficulty standing as they grew weaker. He stumbled through the debris, falling multiple times, as tears of frustration and fear for his brother blurred his already strained vision.

Then he saw it.

He had looked up briefly and thought the darkness was playing tricks on his eyes, but, squinting, he realized that there were a few faint pinpricks of light coming from an island near the one he stood on. It was hard to tell, but it sure looked like blue-white light to his tired eyes.

“Oh please...!” he rasped weakly. “Please be them....!”

Sans stuck the bone back in his teeth and dove into the water, the hope renewing his energy slightly. He swam swiftly at first, then slowed as his exhaustion weighed his limbs down. The currents pushing from the base of the waterfall right next to the mound tried to sweep his light body away, making it all the more difficult for him to reach it. He coughed as water splashed into his mouth between the bone, his desperation tearing at his soul.

At last, he arrived at the mound, coughing out water he had choked down, gasping for air as he crawled over to the flickering source of light along the bank. He ripped away pieces of wood, sodden ropes, and decayed reeds and gave a guttural sigh of joy.

Numerous rotting mouseshroom nightlights had been washed up on the mound, having found their way down the waterfall that fed the mound with its discarded cargo. Many of them were lit, their blue-white glow weak and flickering, and all of them were in a state of decay. However, much of the mushrooms were still edible around the rotting parts.

Looking around for something to carry the mushrooms in, Sans found nothing. Thinking quickly, he pulled off his soaking shirt, shivering uncontrollably with the cold as his bones from the pelvis up were exposed to the light breeze. With trembling, shaky hands, he frantically filled his shirt like a bag with as many mushrooms as could fit. He rolled the hem of his shirt to seal it, then took a nearby rope and wound it around the bundle, tying it firmly so the shirt wouldn’t open. He slung it over his back, tying the sleeves around his neck into a knot. Then he picked up the blue bone, shoved it back between his teeth, and dove into the water.

The currents were now rapidly pushing him in his favor, back towards the island on which his brother lay. Sans hoped he wasn’t too late, that his brother hadn’t shifted, causing his neck to—

Papyrus’ painful cries reached Sans’ ears as he neared the mound. Sans whimpered through his teeth and the bone, struggling to reach his injured brother with the life-saving mushrooms on his back.

Sans washed up on the bank of the mound, his body shivering violently and unwilling to move. With all the strength he could summon, he crawled over to his wailing brother and collapsed by his head, weakly pulling the knotted shirt sleeves over his own head. He pulled the bundle up to him and fumbled to untie the rope with numb fingers. The rope fell free and he tore at it to loosen, shoving his hand into the bottom of his shirt to pull out a mushroom. He tore off an edible piece and held it to his brother’s open, crying mouth.

Feeling the food at his teeth, Papyrus whimpered as he instinctually opened his mouth wider for it. Sans dropped it in, and the little skeleton barely chewed it before swallowing it with a whimper as Sans broke off another bit. Papyrus opened his mouth for more, and Sans gave him the next piece, laying his own head down on his other arm to rest. With each swallow, Papyrus’ whimpering and moaning decreased, but Sans refused to slow his feeding.

Soon, Papyrus was able to open his eyes, his awareness returning to him as the cloud of agony dissipated from his mind.

“...Sas...?” His voice was a weak croak.

“Sh-shh, P-Pap...,” Sans stammered, his teeth chattering terribly. “K-keep eat-ting....”

Sans was now shivering violently. Skeletons couldn’t handle the chill from wetness, the moisture seeping deep into their bones. Their bodies could bear the dry, frigid temperatures of the winter for long durations, but the combination of saturation in cold water and exposure in the air quickly chilled them to the bone. He knew he needed to get dried off and warm, but everything around him was waterlogged and soaking. He gritted his chattering teeth, ignoring his own discomfort for the sake of his brother’s serious injuries.

After five mushrooms, Papyrus tried to sit up, but groaned, clutching his neck.

“N-no...!” Sans begged, reaching up weakly to stop him. “D-don’t t-touch your ne—”

A green glow shone under the little skeleton’s hands. Sans watched wide eyed, mouth hung open as his brother’s clavicle and cervical vertebrae glowed in the green light, reforming before his eyes. Soon, the bones had reformed, as if nothing had happened to them. Papyrus, still sniffling and whimpering, put his hands over his lower chest. The green glow lit up his hands and ribcage under his shirt, healing his broken ribs. He then moved his hands down—leaning up slightly—to reach his lower vertebrae, healing the fractures.

This must be how he healed me, Sans thought as he watched in shock.

Having healed his major injuries, Papyrus laid back, hiccoughing tearfully from his ordeal.

Sans was still on his stomach, trembling violently as he offered his brother more of the mushroom, but Papyrus had had his fill and turned his closed jaws away from it. Sans let his hand drop weakly, and Papyrus turned his head back to face him.

“S-Sas okay...?” he asked between dry sobs.

“J-just t-tired,” his brother answered, teeth chattering loudly. “And c-c-cold. S-so c-c-old.”

Papyrus groaned painfully as he rolled over, looking at his brother through the light of the blue bone. His eyebrows raised in worry.

“Where Sas’ shirt?”

Sans weakly lifted an empty sleeve of the shirt, still filled with rotting mushrooms.

Papyrus winced as he moved closer to his trembling brother, putting his arm around Sans in an effort to keep him warm. His damp clothes made Sans shiver even more, but Sans didn’t care. He was too relieved that his brother was out of danger.

“W-we’ve g-got to g-get b-back,” Sans stammered, shaking uncontrollably. “B-but m-my m-m-magic is g-gone. I c-can’t make pl-platforms or t-take us th-there.”

“Pa do it....”

The tiny whisper made Sans lift his head weakly. “Wh-what...?”

Papyrus tilted his head and opened his eyes slightly to look at his brother. Sans could tell he was still weak from his injuries, even though they had healed.

“Pa make bones....”

Sans made a small sound of protest, but realized that it would be their only chance. They couldn’t wait for his magic to naturally replenish.

Sans looked at the rotting mushrooms spilling out of his shirt next to his head.

“P-Pap...,” he croaked. “C-can y-you eat m-more?”

Papyrus gave a weak shake of his head. “No, Sas.... Pa too full....”

Sans hesitated, unwilling to take food that should be going to heal his brother. But, deep down, he knew that if they were going to make the massive climb back up, he needed his strength.

He pulled out a mushroom and tore off an edible portion with shaky fingers, shoving it in his mouth. He kept eating, feeling his strength returning and his pain fade away slowly. After he had consumed the last of the mushrooms, he sat up, still woozy from the weakness of his magic depletion, his brother watching him through half-shut lids as he lay on his side.

Sans shook out his soaked shirt of mushroom remains and put it back on with a struggle, as the wet cloth made it difficult. He gasped sharply as the frigid fabric clung against his spine and ribcage, a loud, deep shudder forcing its way out of his lungs.

He looked over at the sheer cliff wall from where they had come, unable to see the top from their depth. There were so many waterfalls that he wasn’t sure which one Papyrus had fallen down. Recalling that he had checked a few of the islands in front of them before finding his brother, and seeing a pair of waterfalls close together like the two waterways that cut through the path near the other islands, he judged the best location for them to ascend.

Sans sighed worriedly, giving a chilled shudder. “Th-this is g-going to b-be rough, P-Pap....”

A pang of guilt cut through him, making him shut his eyes tightly and clench his teeth. If he had just eaten some dried fruit after transporting, or remembered to take some with him before going over the cliff after his brother, none of this would be happening. His brother had been suffering longer than he should have because he was too stupid to make sure his magic was in good supply. It was all his fault, if only he had just—

“Sas okay...?”

Sans opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat as his brother’s voice startled him. He looked down at Papyrus. His brother’s eyes were wide with concern for him, his frowning face sad.

Sans put on a grin and winked at his brother. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine. J-just pr-preparing myself f-for th-the climb. Y-you feel w-well enough t-to go?”

Papyrus nodded from where he still lay on his side. “Pa wanna go home....”

“M-me t-too,” Sans answered, getting up on his feet, his body shaking terribly from the cold and magical weakness. “L-let’s go.”

He carefully picked up his brother, cradling him in his shivering arms.

“Y-you ok?” he checked.

“Yeah,” Papyrus answered, nodding. Sans noticed he looked extremely tired.

“Ok,” he whispered through chattering teeth. “W-we need a br-bridge here to th-that island.”

Papyrus turned his head to look down at the mound they were on and the one near it. He raised his right hand and four bones shot from the bank of the mound until it reached the other side, inches above the water.

“Gr-great job, P-Pap,” Sans grinned.

Sans carried his brother over the bone bridge, the currents splashing at his bare feet. The bridge was slick from the water, and the smoothness of his bony feet on the bones of the bridge made for a treacherous walk. Eventually, he made it to the other side, finally releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Papyrus raised his hand to make the bones disappear, when Sans stopped him.

“W-wait, d-don’t,” he urged. “We’ve g-got a l-long, long way t-to climb. Y-you n-n-need to c-conserve your m-magic. W-we’ll take c-care of th-these another d-day.”

Papyrus looked up at him and nodded.

Sans carried him across the mound, slipping and stumbling on the refuse under his feet that he could not see with his brother blocking his view. Papyrus whimpered as he was jostled, afraid of falling to the ground. Sans gave him a reassuring squeeze as he, himself, felt the dread of knowing they had an extremely long way to go before they were safe.

[ikenbar]

Ikamara One Shot: Saint Richards

Hey there! Trying something new here with these one shots in the middle of the story. To give a background to Ike and a sense of tension as you wait of the next chapter!! Thank you for reading and coming this far in Ikamara’s story. I hope you enjoy and I hope these clear up any questions you guys have for her! Thanks again!!

~ Ike ‘n Bar Productions Productions

Warnings: Slight cursing (extremely mild), Fighting, Suggestive comments, Drunks being aggressive, annoying men, and Ike being a total boss

Read more of Ikamara’s story!

Chapter One parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven here :)

And Chapter Two prologue and parts one, two, three, four, five, and six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven here :D

Chapter three coming soon :D

One shot: Saint Richards

“It shouldn’t be this hard to avoid drunk college girls.”

Ike planned to find a place to celebrate moving into her new apartment. More specifically she was looking for a bar. One she could regular since the other bar she went to was too far to casually attend anymore. Ike never liked that place anyway. It was close enough to a community college so young adults would often overtake it at night. Sure, she was still a young adult of college age but she didn’t like associating herself with that kind of image.

A few clubs appeared on Ike’s walk but none of them enticed her to go in. They were either full of bustling drunks or ear piercing music that you could hear from the other side of the street. Ike turned a corner, considering going back home, when a flickering light lit up the pavement in front of her. She turned and found herself facing a window to a small bar. It had a light wooden aesthetic with old pictures and instruments hanging in clusters on the walls. If it weren’t for the groups of middle aged patrons dressing in regular clothes, Ike would have thought she was thrust back in time of the old west. Everyone there seemed to be kept to themselves, talking casually in their little groups and avoiding anyone else around them. That alone was enough to keep Ike from hesitating as she walked into that bar. If she didn’t hurry, those freaks would find her and destroy such a perfect place.

A jingle came from above Ike as she opened the door, drawing the heads of the patrons to look at her for a moment before redirecting their attention back to each other. Ike approached the bar and took a seat on one of the many empty stools. A young, Carmel skinned, bartender stood behind the bar, mixing a drink for a patron.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked, handing a patron his finished drink. The bartender’s voice was higher than Ike expected, but it gave him a softer, more teddy bear-like, feel about him.

“Moscow Mule, neat, house liquor is fine.” Ike responded resoundingly, trying to make herself unapproachable. If she were to attend that bar she was going to do it by taking a load off and avoiding human interaction. She had enough of interaction at her current job as a bounty hunter. So she didn’t go to socialize or be hit on by older men. Let alone to make new friends that only know you for your drinking problem.

“You got it!” The bartender said, immediately working on her drink. Ike settled in her seat, prepared to zone out and enjoy the silence. But the bartender had other plans. 

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He sparked a conversation, annoying Ike slightly, “You fresh to these parts?”

“Just moved into an apartment a couple blocks away.” Ike spoke frankly.

“Oh really? Well welcome to the neighborhood!” The bartender smiled widely, “Though, I’ve got to ask, What brought you to a place like this? You look like a lively young girl. Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere with people your age?”

“You’re one to talk.” Ike snapped.

The bartender chuckled, “You got me there. But don’t avoid the question.” The bartender placed Ike’s finished drink in front of her and leaned on the bar, arms folded and stare piercing, “Why, of all places to drink, did you decide on a washed up 'ol bar like this one?” Ike looked intently at the man for a second, trying to read for any ill intent. After finding none, she sighed.

“I’m trying to find a new regular place to go to after work. Preferably someplace I can walk to from my apartment. Not to mention one without loud music and headache-inducing college chicks who are wasting their life away.”

“Well, you’ve found the right place! Though, I don’t know if I can vouch for the music and college girls. We have karaoke Friday nights.”

“Oh really?” Ike rolled her eyes, hopes of the bar becoming rotten.

“Yup! I even have a game that I play as I watch them.” the bartender chuckled happily.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s called, ‘take a shot every time a drunk girl faints on stage.’” The bartender winked at Ike. Ike arched an eyebrow.

“Sounds interesting.” Ike said as she took a drink, “How do you play?”

The bartender opened his mouth excitedly to respond but a jingle from the door cut him off. Ike turned and looked to the door where three men were standing. They all supported matching leather jackets and had tattoos all over their bodies. They looked middle-aged with their receding hairlines and patchy skin. They were all practically the same person but there was a clear leader as the man standing in the middle of them was taller and wore a red bandanna. He had long bleached, thinning hair that was pulled down the back of his head and away from his dark brown eyes. His yellow teeth were quite abundant as he sucked on the tobacco in his cheek and scanned the room. 

Ike was quick to dismiss these men but the bartender wasn’t. He wore a face of concern as his grip around his folded arms tightened. Ike looked around to the rest of the bar and found everyone had gone quiet as they nervously looked at the men at the door.

The leader of the group caught the eyes of the bartender and grinned crookedly. “Hunter!” The man billowed in a scratchy yet powerful voice as he approached the bar. As he walked, the rest of the bar resumed their conversations, if not a bit quieter this time, “I didn’t know you were working today!”

“The old man asked me to cover for him while he visited Becky in the hospital.” The bartender, supposedly named Hunter, stood up as the leader leaned on the bar, uncomfortably close to Ike.

“Ah is she still not feeling well?” The leader laughed and shook his head, “Mayhaps it’s for the best that you let her go, kid. Don’t want no dying chick taking up the space that someone could use to actually get better.” Hunter tensed slightly.

“Yeah, right.” He said with a strained chuckle and annoyance dripping from his tongue, “Good one. The usual then, Judy?”

“Yeah, and another drink for the lady here.” Judy, finally acknowledging the woman next to him, nudged Ike slightly. He looked down at her and smiled as Hunter left to make the drinks, “I don’t think I have had the pleasure.”

“And you won’t.” Ike pushed Judy away, “Also, Hunter was it? Don’t make that other drink. I don’t take handouts from people who suggest that lives can be exchanged for rooms.”

“Hey now,” Judy put his hands up and laughed lightly, “I was just joking! Right, Hunter? You know I love your sister!”

“Right.” Hunter didn’t keep his eyes off the drinks he was making.

“I’d like her even more if she’d let me play ‘carpenter!' Amright, bois?!” Judy slapped the stomach of one of his buddies as they laughed heartily at his joke. Ike rolled her eyes and tried turning away from the detestful scene. Judy noticed this and chuckled. He leaned on her arm, drawing her attention back onto him. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I’d rather just take the money.” Ike hissed as she pushed Judy back again.

“Oh come on!” Judy laughed and moved inches from Ike’s face, “What’s the harm in one-” Ike grabbed ahold of Judy’s shirt and, in one quick motion, forced him down and stood up from the stool so she was looking over him dominantly.

“Listen, punk,” Ike spoke through her teeth, spitting on Judy’s face as she spoke, “My job involves beating and taking scum like you down. Believe it or not, I came here to relax and get away from all of that, but I would be more than willing to clock back in if prompted to do so. So, unless you want me to show you exactly how I 'hit on' guys, I’d suggest you take the hint and back the hell off.” Ike threw Judy away from her, causing him to stumble backwards and collide into this group. Judy quickly recentered himself and looked angrily at Ike.

“Fine then!” He huffed, smoothing out his shirt, “You could have just asked! Come on, boys.” With that, Judy left with his group to one of the booths on the other side of the room. Ike cursed to herself and sipped her drink. 

Hunter whistled as he walked back over to her, “I’ve never seen anyone tell Judy off like that. I’m impressed!”

“Like I said, I deal with people like him everyday.” Ike sat back in her stool and aggressively grabbed her drink, “I’m sorry, but I’d really rather be left alone right now.”

“Completely understood.” Hunter picked up a tray of drinks and smiled kindly to Ike, “Just let me know if you need anything. And here.” Hunter placed a bowl of olives in front of Ike, “To take the edge off.” Ike watched Hunter leave before looking at the bowl in front of her. She sighed and picked up an olive.

The rest of the night had gone on smoothly. With Ike alone with her drink and no more disturbances with the boy band, it seemed as if the night would be a quiet one. But it wasn’t. 

Ike had just about wrapped up for the night when a clattering came from the other side of the room. She looked up and saw Judy pinning a middle-aged man to the table of his booth. Judy was red faced and blurry eyed. He had clearly been indulging in many drinks that evening. Judy swore at the man, spitting in his face with every syllable. “Keep your eyes to yourself!” Judy spoke through the swears, “I don’t need you checking me out every five minutes like I’m some sort of zoo animal!!”

“Everytime.” Hunter groaned from behind the bar, putting down the rag he had been using to clean. Hunter rounded the bar quickly. “Judy, please don’t make me call security!”

“Security?!” Judy laughed, “You mean your dad?! The one who isn’t here?! What is he going to do from the hospital?! Clear you a bed?!” Judy let go of the man and approached Hunter menacingly, “Or are you going to stop me?! What are you going to do, huh?!” Hunter gulped. Ike placed down her cup and stood up.

“Judy, you’re drunk.” Hunter said firmly as he backed away from Judy, “Let’s handle this calmly.”

“Even drunk I am more the capable to beat your-”

Ike pulled Judy’s arm, forcing him away from Hunter. Judy stumbled backward and into the booth he was sitting in, clashing with his friend and spilling their drink all over Judy. Judy stood back up and blurrily looked over to Ike. He glared at her.

“What the hell?!” Judy sputtered, advancing towards Ike.

“You’ve had enough to drink.” Ike stood her ground and spoke firmly as Judy towered over her, “It’s time for you to leave.” Judy moved his face close enough to surround Ike’s senses with the alcohol on his breath.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Each syllable landed with a prod to Ike’s shoulder, “I’m going to stay here for as long as I want. Unless, you’re the security Hunter was blathering about?” Ike looked over to Hunter. He was looking at her with worry as he held a phone to his ear. Ike shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” She sighed, taking Judy’s ear and pulling him down to her level, “So, get out of here before I make you.” Judy puffed out his cheeks and let out a hearty laugh, spitting globs of saliva at Ike’s face.

“And… how… are you... going to do... that?!” Judy asked through his laughter, giving Ike a look that screamed, Bring it. 

So Ike brought it. 

Ike took a bundle of fabric from Judy’s shirt and twisted herself, flinging Judy over her shoulder and onto the floor. Judy let out a gasp as all of the air was knocked out of him. He then coughed and twisted himself so that he was laying on his stomach and cursed as he struggled to stand again. Ike rolled her eyes and approached the spluttering idiot. She pulled on his hair so he was facing her.

“You want to ask me that again or are you ready to leave?” Ike asked calmly. Judy’s face was slacked, unintentionally giving Ike her answer. Ike dropped his hair, took the back of his jacket, and dragged him to the door. She kicked it open and threw Judy onto the pavement outside. “Don’t let me catch you here again.” Ike threatened as she turned back into the bar. The two men that Judy walked in with blew past her and to the door, rudely shoving her shoulder as they passed. Ike barely moved to their petty attack and shut the door behind them.

Ike walked up to the scene she had just left, avoiding the looks all of the patron’s seemed to have on her. Hunter was talking to Judy’s victim with a very apologetic look in his eyes. Ike made eye contact with the victim, who met her eyes with a complex look. “You... alright?” She asked, uncertainty.

“Sure.” He muttered, “Thanks.” He smoothed himself out and approached his group of friends at a separate table. Ike only got a glimpse of his friends looking worriedly at him before Hunter took up her vision.

“Are you ok?!” He asked worriedly, putting his hands on her shoulders,

“I’m fine.” Ike assured Hunter, pushing his hand off of her shoulder, “Though I could use another drink.” 

“You got it!” Hunter looked relieved and his smile returned, brighter then before, “Don’t worry about paying this one. It’s on the house.” Hunter walked with Ike back to the bar and he quickly got to work on the drink, “That escalated way more than it usually does. Normally I have my father here to help me with him. But of course the one day my dad isn’t here-”

“How long has Judy been coming here?” Ike interrogated Hunter as she took a seat.

“Four months? He comes every day and makes a scene. It’s the reason this place is so barren. Hopefully, he doesn’t come back. We could use the business.” Hunter handed Ike a fresh drink

“No kidding,” Ike accepted the glass. After a moment, Hunter held out his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve formally introduced myself.” Hunter beamed, “I’m Hunter Richards.” Ike took his hand.

“Ike.” She said, shaking his hand.

“Ike, huh?” Hunter smiled, pulling his hand from hers to lean on the bar, “A badass name for a badass girl!”

“It’s short for Ikamara. Though, it does pay to have a name that criminals can quake at the sound of.” 

Hunter laughed, “So, Ike, I hope Judy didn’t ruin any chances of you being a regular here. I’d love to have you around while I work.”

“Oh really?” Ike arched an eyebrow, “Are you just saying that because I saved your neck?”

“Yes,” Hunter admitted, “and you’re a good relief from people I see every day here. It’s nice to joke around with a customer without them thinking I’m insulting or hitting on them.”

“Wait, you’re not hitting on me?!” Ike widened her eyes overdramatically, “Well then I saved your hide for nothing!” Ike smirked as she went to take another sip of her drink. Hunter tapped the bottom of her glass, sending a wave of alcohol into her face. Ike coughed as Hunter burst into laughter. Ike threw a punch at his arm, causing him to back up and put his hands in the air.

“Ok ok I’m sorry!” He said through his laughter, “I’ll make you another one if you want! Just please don’t hurt me!”

“No promises.” Ike rolled her eyes. Hunter looked happily back to Ike.

“So, Ike, you gonna be a regular or what?”

“Give me that drink and I may consider it.” Ike placed a hand on her chin and gave Hunter a look. Hunter smiled warmly and nodded. As he returned to his station at the bar, Ike looked around at the pub. Though the place would likely become busier without that idiot there, it was an endearing place. With the old aesthetic and the jolly bartender, it was like she was welcomed there. Even without the drink promised to her, Ike had made up her mind about St. Richards.

(Next)

(Chapter three coming soon :D)

[ashtheshortstack]

take my scars & make them stars - ch 4

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter Four

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter

It was a date. He said it was a date. As much as that excited her, she didn’t want to jump into something too soon. Especially with her health. And when she explained that to Kristoff, he completely understood. Which only made her like him more.  

So, they were dating. But there wasn’t a label. Anna couldn’t bear saying she had a boyfriend during this trying time of her life. 

But, even though Kristoff wasn’t her “boyfriend” didn’t mean she didn’t start popping by the coffee shop on the regular to pay him little visits. It was always the same excuse—that Elsa wanted coffee. They both knew it was a lie, but it gave her a reason to go up to the register.  If she stuck around too long, sometimes Kristoff would take the coffee. S’mores lattes weren’t his favorite, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Anna had never used Snapchat—she’d thought it was silly to send pictures all the time—but after Kristoff asked if she had one, she downloaded the app in an instant. And, quickly, that became the way she kept him updated throughout her day. Kristoff’s snap stories were very sophisticated. They didn’t usually feature his face, but mostly the coffee shop with different work-day filters. Lots of snaps of Sven being excited when Kristoff arrived home from work. On the occasion, there would be a Sven shaming story if the dog tore something up while he was away. 

But the private snaps he sent to her privately were much goofier. And she appreciated that. Anna liked that he was so real with her. So himself. Maybe he put on a front for those who viewed his stories, but not her. 

Kristoff sent her a picture of a large spill of coffee all over the floor of the shop with a caption of “why” and that’s all. Anna couldn’t help but giggle from her seat in the hospital lounge. At least the chairs she sat in during chemo were comfortable. And with Kristoff sending her entertaining snaps, it made her day just a little better. He always had a way of cheering her up no matter how miserable she may have felt. 

She sent him a selfie of her grimacing and looking away from the camera with the caption “at least it’s not vomit this time”. Did she keep bringing it up? Yes. She was mortified about the whole situation, so making fun of it at least let Anna live down her shame. 

His response was quick. A selfie of him grinning stupidly with “i’ll clean up your vomit anytime” attached. She snorted at that. Why was he sweet and disgusting at the same time? But she appreciated it nonetheless. 

Dr. Mattias entered the room with his usual smile, preventing Anna from returning a snap. She’d have to wait and send him a response later. 

He greeted her as usual before sitting in the chair across from her. “So, Anna, how are you today?” 

“Pretty good, considering,” she replied with a smile. She couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. It was probably a bit obvious to Dr. Mattias that she was bubblier than usual. But that was okay. Everyone was allowed a good day. Especially when on chemo. 

“That’s great,” he said, clicking his pen. “How are your symptoms?” 

Her mind flashed to her date with Kristoff. Pursing her lips, she glanced away. “Um, I was wondering about physical therapy?” 

Dr. Mattias seemed stunned at her words, his brows raising, but he answered her anyway. 

                                                     o~o~o~o

  Anna sent Kristoff a snap video of her walking on the sidewalk downtown towards the coffee shop. In response she got a blurry image of his face with “oh shit” across it. She couldn’t help but giggle. He really was funny, even if he didn’t want to admit it. She could tell Kristoff was jittery and had a rough exterior… but she planned on cracking it down. 

The bell rang above her head as she entered the door. There was a new barista there she didn’t recognize. The girl had raven hair and a darker complexion… she actually looked a lot like Ryder. Maybe, they were related? 

Kristoff smirked when he saw her. “Why hello there, how can I help you today?” 

“Hello, Christopher,” she cooed. 

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Oaken ordered me a new name tag, will you stop harassing me?” 

“No.” 

He snorted. “So, a s’mores latte for Elsa? ” Kristoff smirked, a knowing glint in those honey-brown eyes. 

Anna shook her head. “Nope! I’m having a cheat day. It’s getting chillier so I can reasonably get a hot cocoa. For Anna. ” 

“Well, well, well,” he grinned. “I finally get to write your name on a cup today.” 

Humming in response, Anna pulled out her wallet. “I guess it’s just your lucky day,” she teased with a grin before handing him her card. 

“Yeah, sure. It’s a true blessing when I get to write ‘Anna’ on a cup. As if it isn’t a common name.” 

“Bet you think about me every time another Anna comes in.” 

Kristoff’s cheeks flushed at that. “Shut up,” he pouted as he snatched a cup from the counter and headed over to the machine. 

Giggling, Anna moved to the side as the girl took the next customer. Her name tag said “Honeymaren.” Jeez, no wonder the owner couldn’t order the correct names. Did anyone here have a basic name? She was a little jealous of the uniqueness of it. Perhaps how her name was pronounced was a little different, but still. 

Kristoff returned with her cup and handed her the credit card as well. “Here’s your special cheat day drink, feisty pants. Glad you went with a caffeine free option.” 

“Well, I can’t get too crazy.” 

He laughed.

“When do you get off?” she asked, smiling slightly. 

Shoulders slumping, he sighed. “Still got a few hours today.  How about we meet up tomorrow? I have some work on the job site first, but I can see you afterwards?” 

Anna sipped at her hot cocoa with a smile. “I’d like that.” 

“I’ll text you?” 

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. 

                                                 o~o~o~o

  It didn’t take long after she left the coffee shop for the snapchats to start again. It was nice that she received so much attention from him. Kristoff really knew how to make a girl feel special.  

When Anna made it home, she was utterly exhausted. She crashed on the couch, finishing off her hot cocoa with a sigh. Setting the cup on the side table, she flopped back on the cushions. 

“Hey, long day?” 

Anna sighed when she saw Elsa rounding the couch to sit on the arm with a smile. “You don’t know the half of it,” she murmured. 

Elsa smiled at that. “I see an Arendelle Roasts cup, so someone paid Kristoff a visit.” 

“I did…” 

Her sister just gave a knowing smirk before looking away. “Sooo, how was chemo today?” 

“Same as usual… Miserable.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Well, it was a little better actually. Kristoff convinced me to get a Snapchat, and we’ve been snapping each other a lot. He sends me some really funny stuff. I dunno, it was just a nice positive during treatment today. Does that seem silly?” 

Elsa was smiling at her. “Whatever makes you happy, Anna. Just a little pick-me-up is better than nothing,” she paused, “but we both know Kristoff is a little more than that.” 

The dreamy sigh that left her lips was a bit embarrassing. She couldn’t help it though. Kristoff made her mushy inside. He really did make her happy. It was a nice change of pace. 

“He’s really great, Elsa. Why couldn’t I have found him sooner? Ugh, I wish he’d gone to academy… maybe I’d never been with Hans.” 

Her sister gave a small shrug. “Life works in funny ways. This was just the right time to meet him.” 

Humming, she nodded. “Maybe, you’re right. He did say he used to be kinda grumpy.” 

Anna heard a faint laugh before slowly nodding off to sleep. 

                                                 o~o~o~o

  Kristoff had asked her to meet him in the park the following day. Anna wore appropriate fall clothing. She was so excited that it was finally cooling down. The heat was so exhausting, especially while she was on chemo. The treatments made her feel so weak and heat did not mix well with her symptoms. It sucked. A lot. 

Fall would be a calmer time. She hadn’t yet experienced chemo with the cold… she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. But her light jacket over her purple dress and dark leggings was comfortable and worked well with the temperature. She was a little disappointed she wouldn’t be able to participate in the pumpkin spice craze as it began due to her ban on caffeine. But it would just make it all the worthwhile for next fall. 

Anna sat on a swing that overlooked the pond. Ducks waddled by, making her giggle at their quacking. There were a few girls sitting on a picnic blanket nearby… but Anna chose to ignore their frequent glances in her direction. It wasn’t exactly a poor you stare, so Anna wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. So, she stared at her phone and ignored them the best she could. 

Only when Kristoff told her that he’d arrived did she look up from her spot. She waved at him when she saw him crossing the browning grass. He wore a clean green flannel, but the skin beneath glistened. His hairline was damp as well. Clearly, he’d gotten a bit sweaty while working on the site. It was strange… the sudden spike in her libido at seeing him like this despite her sex drive practically being nonexistant since her first few months of chemo. Sure, she’d had thoughts about Kristoff before, but not like this. She hadn’t felt desire for someone in so long. And Kristoff definitely triggered such a reaction from her. 

But how was she to help it? His shaggy blonde hair, tanned skin in sight where his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rugged torn jeans, and work boots… it suited him. And Anna couldn’t get enough of it. As much as she loved Kristoff in a cream colored apron and a button up, this just did many different things to her. 

Kristoff returned her gesture, waving a large palm in her direction as he sped up to reach her. There was a grin etched along his lips as he approached. When he came to sit with her on the swing, it seemed entirely natural for him to place an arm on the back of the bench behind her as Anna snuggled into his side. 

“Hey, how was work today?” she asked, smiling up at him. 

Giving a lopsided shrug, he hummed. “Nothing too exciting. Building, measuring, hammering--the usual,” he glanced down at her. “How was yours?” 

“Laid around, puked some, drank a smoothie because I can’t chew--the usual,” she laughed bitterly. 

“It’ll get better, you know.” 

Sighing, she nodded and leaned her head against his chest. “I know.” 

“Did you talk to your doctor about your symptoms?” 

Anna sighed. “Yes, we decided on some physical therapy options to help blood flow to my fingers. I just--God, Kristoff, I can’t wait until this is over. I mean, I know it’ll never be over over. Dr. Mattias already told me I’ll have to go back for regular number checks the rest of my life once in remission. But there can’t help but be that part of me that wonders if there’s more they don’t know about. If I’ll never actually be in remission and--oh, jeez. I’m sorry, Kristoff, I’m totally being negative and rambling.” 

Kristoff’s palm patted her upper arm lightly. His eyes seemed so sad when he regarded her. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re free to rant as you please. Don’t stop for my sake.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. I don’t mean to just--talk about myself so much.”

“I like hearing you talk about yourself.” 

She snorted. “Don’t lie.” 

Cocking a brow, he smirked. “But I do. I really admire you, ya know? The way despite how everything you’re going through, you manage to keep a smile on your face.” 

Anna felt herself swoon at the compliment and hoped her reaction didn’t show too much on her face. Even though she trusted Kristoff, she had jumped into a relationship too quickly before, so she didn’t want the blonde to know how crazy she was about him. How much his compliments meant to her. Even the small ones. 

She responded by snuggling closer to his chest, pressing her body against his own. God, he was so much bigger than her. Anna knew she was scrawny from treatments… would he still be this broad compared to her even when her body returned to a healthier weight? She glanced down between them, noticing his hand sitting on his own thigh. Without a second thought, she grabbed his palm with both of her own. Anna idly played with his fingers, really noticed the contrast with her own. His hands were so healthy while hers… were so boney. And tiny. And weak. Her fingers ached just trying to squeeze his. 

Kristoff chuckled, turning his palm over and opening his fingers to her. Anna’s lips twitched and she gazed up at him as she intertwined her fingers with his. Humming, she relaxed into his touch as his thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. The touch actually sent a warming sensation to the tips of her tingly fingers. 

It was nice being like this. To just enjoy one another’s company. She was sure she would find something else to talk about, but for now… this was enough. 

As she opened her mouth to speak, she looked up at him. Only to see him scowling off in another direction. His brows were pinched and a tight frown was etched along his lips. Anna followed his line of sight to see who he was glaring so harshly at. It was the two girls who had been staring at her earlier. They were giggling and whispering at their phones until they looked up and saw Kristoff’s eyes on them. The smiles on their faces quickly fell as they both glanced around uncomfortably, each looking very ashamed. Kristoff didn’t stop his squint until the two girls packed their things and quickly left. 

The entire encounter didn’t last but five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Anna. What had they done to make Kristoff so angry?

“W-What was that all about?” 

His face relaxed as they watched him leave, eyes softening when he gazed at her. “Sorry, they were taking pictures.” 

Anna felt her cheeks flush as she glanced down at her lap. “Oh…” There was a beat of silence for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “Well, I now know what you meant when you said you used to be grumpy. That glare could scare off anyone.” 

Snorting, he shook his head. “Sorry… People like that just piss me off. It’s not your fault that you’re going through this. You aren’t a side-show attraction.” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s you that’s amazing.” 

She giggled at that before tapping on her knee and pursing her lips. “I… I-I need to know, Kristoff. What did you really think of me when you first saw me?” 

“That you’re beautiful. You have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen, and your freckles are adorable.” 

“That’s it? You didn’t think ‘oh, poor thing she looks sick?’” 

He shook his head. “You’ll never look like that to me, Anna.” 

Her lips twitched. “Yeah? What will I look like?” 

“A fighter.” 

Anna’s eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced away. “That’s just cheesy, and you know it.” 

“But it’s true,” he said with a grin. 

“You think I’m really a fighter?” 

“Yeah, like a warrior who has a battle to win. And I have no doubts you’ll see this fight to the end. Don’t you believe so?” 

Anna squeezed his palm. “As long as I have you.”