#finally finished replying both god of war games

[thisantithesis]

“to grieve deeply, is to have loved fully.”

[lewis-winters]

Day 15: Reality

Part of my OC-tober 2022 (that will get fucking finished in 2024 so help me god)! Yes! Another Baldur’s Gate fic ft. my Tav, Pasiphaë Elago on the HBO War Blog! I have too many feelings about this stupid game, the characters in it, and the little guy I made to go with them! Implied Bloodweave and Shadowheart/Nocturne. Because I care Them.

tw: Astarion’s whole backstory; some symptoms of derealization disorder—Pasiphaë has experience with this derealization and conducts some grounding techniques that are specific to Astarion’s preferences, to help him come back to himself; it sounds bleak, but it’s a really gentle sort of fic; mentions of Gale and Shadowheart’s own PTSD, though only fleeting

Pasiphaë comes home to a tressym in her foyer and a vampire on her couch.

“One of those times, yes?” Pasiphaë asks of Miss Tara, who only mrrps in affirmative. She gives the doting feline a scritch behind her ears in lieu of thanks. “Will you tell Gale that I have him, then? I’m sure he’ll worry.”

Tara meows in begrudging acquiescence, slightly annoyed at being told what to do with only an implication of a please in the request. Still, she shakes her wings and stretches very big, before trotting out the door, bushy tail held high.

“You’re both so lucky to have Miss Tara looking out for you,” Pasiphaë says, amused. “Looking out for all of us, I mean. I have a feeling she thinks we’re all her kittens, now, though Gale remains to be her favorite. Yesterday, I caught her grooming Shadowheart’s fringe while she slept just on the spot across from you. It was very cute.”

No reply—that’s alright. She’d begun talking less for the conversation, really, and more for just the noise. Astarion knows this. He’s become rather familiar with the tactics that she’d found useful back in her youth, when reality slipped her grasp as often as it does for him, now. Noise is a good start, and narration is even better. A good reminder of where they are and what the day had looked like.

“The garden is coming in nicely. Shadowheart has a bit of a green thumb, who knew?” she continues, puttering about her home, shedding this and that as she prepares for a nice night in. Silently, two crimson eyes stare out at her from the shadows beneath the cozy, weighted blanket Pasiphaë had been contemplating laundering, but never came around to it. It’s a particularly sought after item by all the guests of her home, after all. Just the other week, Gale was under there, too, deliriously exhausted by his magic returning after so long without. Yesterday, Shadowheart and Nocturne had shared it for an afternoon nap. Last month, when Lae’zel had jez'rathki’d with Xan in tow, the little gith baby had found the wool to be fascinatingly soft, babbling and drooling as his chubby hands kneaded at its folds. Hells, she’s pretty sure Jaheira had used it, too, when she had taken a detour into Waterdeep during one of her Harper missions, to see how they were holding up.

It must smell of everyone, now.

He may never admit it, but Pasiphaë knows Astarion finds that particularly comforting.

“We have too many zucchinis, of course. It’s a devil plant, that one,” she says, finally shedding her boots. “Too much yield. I’m going to have to give away a few baskets full—would Morena like them, do you think? Oh, what am I saying? of course she will; I’ll make sure she gets the nicest ones. I’m going to make some cheesy zucchini bread with the first harvest, though. Gale said he’ll interplanar deliver it to Karlach and Wyll tomorrow, alongside other supplies. Do you want to help me make it?”

No reply, again. But there is a shuffle, like someone preparing to stand.

Pasiphaë doesn’t bother to see if her follows her to the kitchen. He will. The kitchen is always a reliable delight for all the senses, and being in there, working with your hands, is a sure-fire way to, at the very least, focus on the present. It’s another technique of hers that Astarion’s found effective, perhaps because it reminds him of watching Gale cook. The Dekarios Tower kitchen has become a sort of sanctum for them all, after a few weary breakfasts were had around its round table, post rather eventful nights out, all in the name of sating a bored vampire’s curiosity. It became habit, then; if they’re in the mood to disturb their wizard, it was his kitchen they’d hung around. Scratch has a permanent dog flap in there, too, despite Gale’s protests. He’s a scrap stealing pup, but their wizard has always had a soft heart.

Pasiphaë’s own kitchen might not be as big or as lively, but it was just as well-loved. She hosts them one by one in it, sometimes, when they’re all feeling like shit. Which is often, though she doesn’t mind as much as she pretends to. It’s all like clockwork, see? She’s been adventuring enough to know that saving the world is only half the battle; it’s what happens after that the real struggle begins.

For Gale, it was the difficulty of coming back to a home so unchanged when you’ve been so irrevocably altered.

For Shadowheart and Astarion, it was the making of a home after escaping an entire existence of previous torment.

For Pasiphaë, it was the quaintness, the domesticity after constant doom. Always looking over her shoulder, wondering if it will fall apart any time soon with the next crisis.

Often times, peace feels like a dream.

It’s no surprise to her that Astarion feels like he is constantly trapped in one.

But it’s no alarming matter. Pasiphaë knows this, too. He may be falling back on old habits, retreating back into that space in his head he’d lived in for all those years of torment, but the world about him has changed drastically. He’s not there, any more. He needn’t fear starvation or abuse any longer. There are blankets, now, that smell of his most trusted people. And kitchens, filled with friends who will stay up all night just to keep him company. He'll come back to them on his own time, at his own pace. And they will be waiting.

Pasiphaë puts Astarion on washing duty. The cold water of the tap and the rough soil he must scrub away from the harvest are good sensations to ground him even further. Some of it splashes unto the blanket he’d dutifully dragged in here with him, but Pasiphaë doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, she lets her mouth run, allowing her stream of consciousness to fill the air between them.

It goes on for a while—Pasiphaë knows, when given the chance, she’s just as bad as Gale—but she does run out of things to say, once the dough is resting on the counter. They’re sitting at her table, now, a breakfast nook by an open bay window, when Astarion blinks. And blinks again. Hard, like he’s trying to see how many colors he can summon behind his eyelids.

“Tell me something real,” he requests of her, then. Quiet.

You are safe, Pasiphaë wants to say. You are loved.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she settles on something concrete and simple. “It’s going to rain soon. Do you smell the ozone in the air? The way the earth seems to call to the sky?”

Without meeting her eyes, Astarion answers; “Yes. I smelled it on the way here.”

“I love that smell. I love the rain. It makes music with water. You’ll hear it soon.” Gently, she reaches out and touches the back of his hand. An invitation. “I’m happy to spend this rainy night with you.”

Carefully, slowly, Astarion turns his hand over until he is holding hers as tightly as he can.

Me, too, goes unsaid, as they wait for the rain to come.

--

I’ve come to realize that I do have to do a descriptive piece for Pasiphaë, now, since I have no idea how to use the photo mods to show her to you guys. So... I’m putting that in the to write list. I have made a mood board for her, though! I’ll post it with the piece.

[spainkitty]

There Isn't

Part II / III / IV

Takes place a year after the end of the main game, after Solas has ~mysteriously~ disappeared, and a year before Trespasser. Both Descent and JoH take place after the end of the main game in this 'verse.

tw: pretty heavy discussion & break up BUT there is a planned happy ending and it's almost finished 😀 Also, this is a hella long post. my bad?

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

Sigrid Gulsdotten is a very, shall we say, interesting choice of recruit, Inquisitor. Commander Cullen has had a great deal to say on the matter. Still, we've had interest from scholars and mages beside themselves at the chance to speak with a "stable" abomination. (Especially since the Chantry is too weak to forbid it with any force.) I believe that Gulsdotten, with a guide and some guards for her own protection, would be a valuable guest to send to select lectures and salons.

Ambassador Montilyet

You cannot be serious.

Commander Cullen

.

"This is a great idea, Ambassador!" Lanil walked, well, more like ran, into the war room on her first morning back from the Frostback Basin.

She was definitely not thinking of the conversation she'd had with Dorian about him leaving soon. Or that Varric hadn't even come back to Skyhold with them, instead heading straight to Amaranthine to catch a ship to the Free Marches. Or that the Iron Bull, Cole, and Cassandra were the last ones of her close-knit friend group still in Skyhold since Sera went off to Nevarra to meet with the newest Red Jenny, someone named Johi, to help 'kick arseholes in their holes'.

No, of course not. She was only and entirely excited by the missive in her hand that she'd almost forgotten about in the hectic mess of finding Ameridan and stopping yet another god-dragon-creature from stirring up shit. If only Solas could be here to see that people were beginning to care, to ask questions, about the Fade and Spirits! She herself couldn't wait to sit with Sigrid and get to know her and her teacher.

"My Lady?" Josephine startled in place, nearly dropping her writing tablet.

Cullen and Leliana also did a double-take at her sudden appearance, but Lanil didn't bother looking at them. Her attention was solely on Josephine. She slapped the paper down on the table and leaned across it towards Josephine.

"You're serious about this? The lectures and salons and universities?" Lanil demanded.

"Oh! You mean about Lady Gulsdotten. Enchanter Sigrid?"

"No, I don't think either of those work. You can ask later. But yes, about her and her teacher!"

"Her teacher?" Cullen repeated.

His tone sounded... off, but Josephine was riffling through papers and handing them over to Lanil. She snatched them and read through the invitations and requests eagerly.

"They've been pouring in since I sent out a few... discreet messages to a few more renowned professors and Enchanters," Josephine said with a strained smile. She glanced towards Cullen, who was suddenly standing at his full height, arms crossed over his chest, a frown slowly growing darker and heavier on his face. "We all assumed you didn't like the idea when you didn't reply."

"It wasn't exactly an emergency or a priority. The god-possessed dragon was a bit more pressing at the time. But this is a great idea! I'll ask Sigrid myself how she feels about it--"

"You cannot really be serious," Cullen interrupted.

Lanil finally noticed his expression and her eyes began to narrow. "Is there a problem, Commander?"

"A problem?! You used the words 'god possessed dragon' in the same breath as offering to send a possessed mage around Orlais for, what, tea and demon summoning?" Cullen snapped.

"If you noticed, she's not a dragon nor is she trying to be a god or summon demons," Lanil retorted. "She's a mage, an Avvar mage, and the Spirit is her teacher. This is a chance for people to understand Spirits and the Fade better. A chance that most mages across Thedas would never have otherwise."

"Unless they decide to use blood magic and possess themselves or others," Cullen said sharply. Lanil bared her teeth, ready to bite out something caustic.

"Excuse me, Inquisitor, Commander, we don't even know if she'll agree. Perhaps we could wait--" Josephine tried to interrupt, her voice gentle and soothing.

"It shouldn't be an option at all!" Cullen slapped his open palm on the table. "This is madness. If you must, have this Avvar abomination meet with our own scholars. In a small room. Far from anything. With a templar present."

Leliana's eyes closed. Josephine inhaled sharply. Lanil, however, slammed both her hands on the table and leaned across it, eyes burning silver.

"She is not an abomination."

"She is possessed. Of course she is. Don't be naive, Inquisitor."

"By your Chantry terms. Your Chantry rules," Lanil snarled. "In Avvar culture she is a mage. Her Spirit is her friend, her family."

"My Chantry? Did you forget you're part of the Inquisition? A Chantry organization?"

"Barely a Chantry organization! And I'm Dalish!"

"You were raised in a Circle!"

"And they were going to cut my soul in half! I'm Inquisitor because you broke the Chantry rules!"

Cullen threw up his hands and backed away from the table. "This is not the same."

"Josie, maybe we should--" Leliana murmured.

"No, we're not done here," Lanil snapped. "Ambassador, how soon can you organize this tour?"

"Oh, um, only a few--" Josephine stammered.

"You can't do this. I won't allow it." Cullen ordered firmly.

"You won't allow it?" Lanil hissed.

"As your Commander, I have to think about the safety of the people. Maybe you don't think she's dangerous, but I knew a mage who allowed a Spirit to possess him, and he blew up Kirkwall."

"Maybe he was right!" Lanil shouted. Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine all reared back. "Maybe it had nothing to do with the Spirit, maybe it did, but if you hadn't noticed, the world is always on the verge of exploding! If I had stayed there, if I had lived through the utter bullshit of the Gallows, it was called the Gallows, Commander, maybe I would've helped!"

"You can't possibly mean that," Cullen managed to force out, sounding strangled.

For a moment, Lanil wanted to stick to it. To plant both feet and stand firm. But it had been obstinacy more than belief that had her spitting out those words. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at a far wall.

"I... I don't know..." Lanil said, barely more calmly, her control in tatters. "Maybe not. I knew Anders, too. He was my friend once. I believe that he believed it was the only path he had. Maybe Justice pushed that in him, maybe they... they sickened each other. But some of what I've done here has been just as bloody, and I have as high a body count, if not higher. I didn't need to be possessed to do it."

"This was a war that you didn't start, it's not the same," Cullen argued, shaking his head. "And what of Varric? He knew Anders in Kirkwall. What did he think of your decision to bring Gulsdotten here?"

Lanil scowled fiercely. And was silent.

"Exactly. It's dangerous. It stops here, at Skyhold, where we can make sure--"

"No." Lanil tipped up her chin and met Cullen's gaze. "No. Ambassador, make the arrangements."

"Lanil--!"

"If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility. A single person gets hurt, and you'll have yourself a new Inquisitor when I leave to take accountability for it. I hope that assuages any misgivings, Commander." Lanil turned on her heel and left.

"Void take it, Lanil!"

Josephine and Leliana watched as Cullen followed right on her heels. Slowly, Josephine met Leliana's eyes. Leliana rubbed her temples and sighed.

"I really don't know what to do here. I didn't think it would turn out like this," Josephine said, rather unnerved and rattled.

"It was bound to happen eventually. You're going have to choose by yourself now."

"What?!"

"Who do you want to anger more, the Commander or the Inquisitor?" Leliana asked with a humorless smirk.

"Oh, dear Maker," Josephine whispered.

...

Lanil stormed towards the main doors. She was going to go and find Sigrid. Or Dorian. She paused. Sigrid was probably in the mage tower, but Dorian prefered the library in the Rotunda. Actually, Sigrid might be there, too. She turned abruptly left and headed that way.

A hand grabbed her elbow.

"Lanil, we were not done--"

"Yes, yes, we were."

Lanil yanked her arm away and glared up the foot of difference in height. She had never seen Cullen this angry, his frown a snarl that almost matched her own. The closest he'd been was when he'd told her about Samson, or anything to do with Samson. Which had her blood immediately boiling--not very difficult when she was already furious.

"You can't just walk out of a meeting and consider it closed."

"And yet, I did." Lanil jabbed her finger in the middle of his chest. "You pushed me there. Not allow? Not allow me, Cullen? I am not a child."

"I..." He stopped mid-word and looked around. There weren't many guests or visitors a year after Corypheus' defeat, but every single one of them was obviously hanging onto every word they said. "We should speak privately?"

"Fine." Lanil snapped and began walking towards the door to the Undercroft.

"My office would--"

"No. It's not private enough and you're not coming to my room." She ugly-snorted and shook her head. "That's right, my room. More than a year later."

"Lanil, you're not going to derail this conversation with that," Cullen muttered under his breath as they stomped their way down the stairs.

"Screw you, Cullen."

"Damn it, Lanil."

She glared at him hotly. He shouldered his way through the bottom door, scowling just as darkly.

"Commander! And the Inquisitor, too! Uh oh..." Dagna set down the tools and wiped off her hands on her leather apron. "Something is not right in the state of the world again."

"Another darkspawn god coming down on our heads, Inquisitor?" Herrit asked, mostly confused but a little concerned despite himself.

"Nothing like that. This is rude, but could you two get out. Until we're done..." she glanced at Cullen and then back at them, "discussing."

"You got it, boss. C'mon, Herrit, let's go enjoy the sunshine."

"There's sunshine coming through that big hole there."

"Okay, let's go enjoy it anywhere not here." Dagna shoved and pushed Herrit past the angrily seething couple, then up the stairs and out the door.

The moment it closed, Cullen dragged both hands through his hair, wincing when it caught on his gauntlets. Lanil crossed her arms, her stance wide, and glared silently. Furiously. Somewhere in the back of her head, deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt it coming.

Mythal, let her be wrong. ...little odd praying to Mythal after meeting her in person...

Cullen finally spoke, "Let's get the easy thing out of the way--" Lanil snorted and barely kept from tossing her head like a horse, too. "I said I wanted our relationship private, and you agreed. Moving into your room is not private."

"That was over a year ago. Everyone in the Inquisition knows by now, so who cares?"

"I do!" Cullen inhaled sharply. "It's one thing for our people to know, but it's another for... for everyone else. Rumors and gossip, fine, but it's not gossip anymore when a dozen nosy nobles see me follow you up to your private rooms every night."

"But you do sleep up there almost every night! You just sneak in like a damned thief instead of my lover."

"You're the Inquisitor! You need to be above reproach--"

"So you'll fuck me, but won't publicly stand beside me," Lanil retorted dryly.

"Don't talk about us like that. It is not like that and you know it," Cullen snapped.

"Do I? Do I really? Sure feels like you're ashamed of us being an us," Lanil said through gritted teeth. "Are you scared your Templar friends will judge you, or your precious Chantry?"

"Lanil, now you're being an ass."

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm pissed."

"We can talk like adults--"

"Argue. We are arguing like adults. And I, for one, am an angry adult who doesn't like being patronized."

"Then, stop throwing my faith in my face like it's something that makes me less, or like it makes me love you any less!"

"Your faith has drilled into your brain that me, and all my people, not ours, my people can't be trusted. That Spirits can only be evil, awful, destructive things! You know that's wrong! But every time, every time this comes up, you're suspicious and close-minded first!"

"Because every time it ends badly!"

"That's obviously a lie since the Avvar have been doing things their way for hundreds or thousands of years, Cullen! Sigrid and her teacher are not violent. They aren't sickened. They choose to be together, to work and learn together, they are family and they keep each other safe, and they keep others safe. They know things and understand things about Spirits and the Fade in a way Circles and Dalish don't."

"You said yourself she was supposed to get rid of the Spirit and she left because she refused to. She's bucking the very tradition you're defending."

"The augur said that some mages never lose their Spirits. The same kind of mages that your Chantry brands with lyrium! Maddox, and people like Maddox, like Anders' Karl, they didn't have to be Tranquils. They didn't have to die. If we had lived with Spirits like the Avvar--"

"You can't be serious," Cullen scoffed, turning away and rubbing his face.

"Say that one fucking more time, Cullen, I swear!" Lanil dug her hands in her hair and growled. "Yes, I am serious! Me and Solas used to talk about it. What kind of world would it be if there was no Veil, if the Fade was like... like a state of being, like the weather, always around us. What would it take for Spirits to live among us peacefully. I used to imagine it, all the things he'd tell me, all the places and Spirits he'd seen. I want that world, Cullen. A world with less fear and more magic, more wonder. Learning from the Avvar, living a little more like they do, we could get closer to that."

"Worshipping Spirits as gods and sticking them in dragons to destroy us all?" Cullen asked tightly.

"That was one clan. Fen'Harel's bloody teeth, Cullen, some Templars rape mages, but you don't see me calling you a rapist."

"For fuck's sake, Lanil." Cullen punched the nearest bench and Dagna's tools rattled. "That is out of line."

"No, it's not. Or you wouldn't be so damned angry about it."

"How much of this sudden crusade to make the world more like the Fade is because of Gulsdotten, and how much of it is you hoping Solas is going to come back?"

Lanil froze, eyes wide and mouth dropping open. "What?" she wheezed.

"I know you miss him, but he left," Cullen said, his voice softer, his gaze heavy. As if he was being gentle. As if his words were fair. "He left, he didn't say good-bye, and he's not coming back. Making friends with every Spirit and abomination you meet isn't going to bring him back."

Her rage was no longer a fire. It was lightning. A storm. It raged and howled and thundered through every nerve ending. Solas once said her magic felt overwhelming, that if he listened, it drowned out everything else. She understood what he meant now.

The next thing that came out of her mouth was going to shatter something fundamental. Break it perhaps beyond repair. She felt the words burning her throat, her tongue, scraping at the back of her teeth.

"How much are you worried about another Kirkwall, and how much are you terrified of me?" she asked.

Cullen stepped back, his face a picture of bewildered shock. "What, I'm not--"

"What if I meet the right Spirit, Commander? What if I meet a teacher like Sigrid's who promises to show me the Fade in a way I can't see it alone? What if it promises to teach me lost Elvehn magic? What if one night, while you're sleeping next me, I say yes?"

Cullen turned white.

"That's what you're scared of. You're scared that Sigrid is an excuse for me to try it. You're terrified I'll become an abomination. That you'll make up one morning and a demon will be lying beside you. You don't trust me."

"Lanil, that isn't true. Of course I trust you," Cullen said. He was shaking his head, but his skin was too pale, too sweaty, his gaze nowhere near hers.

"You can't even look at me." Cullen's shoulders went tight. "You will always be scared of that part of me. Cullen, we can't work if you hate what I am."

His head snapped up and he stepped towards her, paused, and then crossed the short distance in long, determined strides. Gently, he cupped her face in both his hands, something he'd done a thousand times. His hands were shaking like the last leaves on a tree in winter. But his thumbs traced along the lines of her vallaslin. Gentle. Loving. Her chest cracked down the middle.

"This is--I do not and can never hate you, Lanil. This has nothing to do with how I feel about you."

"A part of me is of the Fade and the Fade is in me. My soul and whatever Spirits are made of... we're like... like cousins. Family. And you hate it. You'll never trust it. So you'll never fully trust me."

"Lanil. Don't do this."

"We're over."

His forehead bumped hers and she felt wooden. Empty. Like maybe she'd already carved out where he fit inside her. A hole in her chest where she'd kept him.

Vhenan. How many times had that words slipped past her lips to brand his?

"I'm the Inquisitor," she forced past numb lips that ached for the shape of different words.

"Lane."

"You're the Commander."

She gently took his hands. Pulled them away. Thanked the Creators that he wore gloves so his skin, his pulse, were hidden under leather and metal.

"Lanil. Don't. We can still talk about this."

"Don't worry, Commander," she smiled, a useless emotionless thing, as she met Cullen's too-wide eyes, "you don't have to worry about my reputation now."

She dropped his hands and it didn't feel like her fingers, her hands, her arms were moving. Someone else's feet encased in leather boots scraped over stone. Someone else's legs moved, carried someone else's body up the stairs.

"Lanil, there has to be..."

He couldn't even finish it. Because how could he? There has to be a compromise? A middle ground?

"There isn't."

She closed the door before he could make another sound. Her footsteps echoed. One after another. One more. And then another. The sounds in the main hall rang weirdly through her ears. Like trying to listen through thick glass. She didn't remember how she made it through, or how long it took to get to the doors. She didn't remember crossing the courtyard down to the stables.

But she saw Faith. Shining white and silver and beautiful. Cloven hooves picking their way delicately over grass and dirt to stand in front of her.

"Could we run, my friend? Could you take me anywhere but here?" she asked. Her lips still felt numb. Her skin icy. Faith lowered herself enough for Lanil to slip onto her back. "Ma serannas, falon. Ma ghilana mir atish'an."

When Faith ran, it felt like flying. The halla leapt with a grace and strength that belied her tiny frame and slender legs. They rushed past the guards so fast, they didn't have enough time to see Lanil's face let alone salute. She tucked herself as low and close as possible on Faith's back, her face whipped by the soft white hair stinging and sharp against Lanil's eyelids. Down her cheeks.

She gritted her teeth and let the halla guide her. Mountain air, the smell of wild heather and gorse crushed under hoof, the cries of wild birds; she thought of nothing else. No words. No broken expressions and brown eyes too dark and too bright. Just Skyhold's mountains and Faith.

It wasn't quite dinner time when Lanil returned. She gave Faith a few carrot and dried apple pieces from Dennet's secret stash. With a gentle rub of her bony chin to Lanil's head, mussing her already tangled hair, Faith went into the barn. Probably to ruin a bale of hay to lay indolently over it like a queen. Lanil had heard Dennet curse about it plenty of times. Finally, Lanil went on her way. There was someone, a few someones, she needed to speak with.

...

"Lady Lavellan? Lady Montilyet told me... My lady?!" Therilla gasped, eyes wide and mouth dropping open.

Lanil grunted, kicked the bed's headboard, and then cursed.

"Yes, I asked her to send you. Would you mind helping me pack for a long journey? In those bags there?" Lanil waved at the tattered and weather-beaten saddlebags in question.

"Um. Of course, but. Why are you stripping the bed? And moving the furniture?

Lanil huffed. All her sheets and blankets had been thrown onto the balcony. Her bureau and desk had switched places. The bed was halfway across the room, where Lanil was now standing.

"I realized I have that whole... um... loft? Indoor balcony? Up there. And I'm going to put my bed there. Make room for some sofas and a table. A little sitting room for guests, like what Vivienne did for her room when she was here."

"That sounds like a lovely idea. Perhaps I could go ask for some help?"

"No need." Lanil raised both her hands, scowled, and then hefted the entire bed up onto the loft area with a loud thud as her hands glowed blue. "I just wanted the right angle for it. Didn't want to accidentally break a leg. The bed's leg, not mine."

"I see. And the bedclothes?"

"I was half hoping the wind would take them. You can give them away." Lanil shrugged and started up the ladder. "I'm going to Val Royeaux to shop with Vivienne."

"Shop. You're going shopping with Madame de Fer?"

"Yup. It'll all be sent here. Make sure they make it look nice, won't you? I trust your taste better than mine. If Josephine wants to help, I don't mind, either, but I think Leliana will officially be in Val Royeaux as Divine by then. Any day now, she said."

"You won't do that yourself? The arranging?" Therilla asked. She slowly opened the saddlebags. Everything Lanil owned could probably fit inside.

"Nope. After Val Royeaux, I'm going around with Sigrid Gulsdotten to sit in on some of her salons. Dorian wanted to see a few of the lectures himself, so it works out great. Then, Dorian, the Iron Bull, and I are going to meet up with Varric in Amaranthine and we're going to the Free Marches together. We already sent him a raven, so he should wait for us, or he'll meet us in Kirkwall and show us around. After that, I'll escort Dorian to the border, I want a glimpse of Tevinter, but that's it. Then, I'm going to Wycome to make sure everything really is stable, visit where my clan..." She broke off slightly, hands freezing mid-air where she held a stack of books, then continued with that same overly perky voice, "Of course, since I'll be travelling, I should go to Nevarra to visit the Enchanters' College they're rebuilding, help out a bit. I'll probably stop at a few of our holdings and keeps around Orlais and Ferelden, too, make sure everyone is satisfied and doing well. Check out any rumors of rifts or demons or darkspawn. I'm pretty excited about it."

The entire time, Lanil was pushing and shoving her bed into the perfect position. Then, came down to start throwing clothes in the bags while Therilla rushed to fold and pack them neatly. She paced to and fro, grabbing books from the shelf, her portable writing desk, more clothes. Barely stopping to breathe, all the while with a fixed and crooked smile on her face. Flitting about like a bird branch to branch.

Therilla huffed and a frizz of hair fluttered over her nose. She was surrounded by clothes and books and a strange number of knives for a mage. Perhaps she cut a lot of herbs?

"What brought this on, my lady? It seems like you're planning to be gone years! Is the Comman--"

"A year at most. Before I forget." Lanil went into her closet and came back out with a large satchel. It was mostly empty, but it felt like it weighed more than a trunk filled with bricks of gold.

A pair of gloves. A handful of styluses worn down to the nub. A tin filled with a solution of elderflower and oakmoss that he swore to everyone else he didn’t use. Papers covered in bold, too-heavy handwriting not her own. Books with feathers or ribbons or dried elfroot for bookmarks, whatever had been nearby. Letters from South Reach carefully kept in their envelopes to preserve them as long as possible. The coin they passed back and forth. Slipped into a pocket or under a pillow or in a boot.

He'd laughed that time. He hadn't been able to figure out how she'd managed to get in it there while he was wearing it.

The satchel dropped with a sad little rattle and thwap.

She was not going to morbidly and symbolically compare it to the past eighteen months.

"That should be returned to the Commander's office. Maybe at dinner or before breakfast, when no one notices."

"Oh. Oh." Therilla's brown eyes glistened and her hand covered her mouth.

"It's nothing. I have a journey to finish packing for." Lanil grinned and spun on her heel. "Do you know what the weather is like in Val Royeaux?"

"Sunny, my lady. The weather should hold for a few weeks yet," Therilla murmured.

"Excellent."

...

Lanil hefted the saddlebags a little higher and shoved through the door into the main hall. Therilla had offered to help carry, but Lanil was more than capable of doing it alone. They weren't even full. Early dawn light trickled through the high stained-glass windows. Soon enough, the hall would be filled with so much sunlight it'd be impossible to walk through without squinting. But for now, the stone beneath her feet took on an unearthly quality, a pearly sheen that reminded Lanil of the Fade.

Dorian met her at the door and raised an eyebrow at her armful.

"You realize you have paid servants to do that for you?"

Lanil scowled at him. With an exasperated sigh, he took hold of the wide strap nearest him. She scowled a little harder, but they walked out the front doors with the saddlebags hanging between them. Funnily enough, even at this early hour, there was a large crowd forming at the front gates. By the time they got close enough to hear the words, Lanil also picked out a familiar voice. And then she saw his blond hair, curlier than ever, and dark fur ruff in the middle of the crowd.

She was surprised dust didn't rise around her boots, she reined herself to a stop so fast. Dorian jerked to a startled halt beside her.

"Lane, what--" He stopped, concern creasing his forehead deeply. She was staring at him, mute and ashen-faced, lips pressed into a thin, white line. He turned back to the crowd and saw Cullen bracing his hands on his hips and arguing heatedly with an Avvar stranger.

"I need to--stables. Go to the stables," Lanil said hoarsely.

"I knew this sudden plan to travel like a migrating goose was rushed and odd. Darling, you can't just run off after a fight," Dorian scolded. She didn't even bother frowning. Just stared at him. Slowly, the vague niggles of amusement ebbed. "Lanil, it wasn't just a fight, was it?"

Still nothing.

"Inquisitor!"

Lanil flinched, then drew herself up straight and square-shouldered so fast Dorian almost missed the first, involuntary motion. He turned to see Cullen striding towards them as suspicions mounted. Seeing the untamed curls and too dark circles in Cullen's wan and weary face more than confirmed them. The way both of them resolutely met eyes with entirely blank expressions, facades as perfectly painted as any Orlesian mask, made Dorian want to sigh. Or cuff them both 'round the head. Or shake what happened out of them.

Of course Lanil was running. Of course Cullen would say nothing.

"Commander," Lanil greeted blandly.

"Care to explain why--" Cullen stopped mid-sentence and stared at the bags hanging between Dorian and Lanil. "What are you doing?"

Dorian rolled his eyes skyward. Of course Lanil was running and hadn't warned Cullen.

"Leaving."

"Andraste's ass, Lane," Dorian whispered. He cleared his throat, though Cullen couldn't tear his eyes from the saddlebags. "We're accompanying Gulsdotten for the start of her tour before heading to the Free Marches. I will be going on to Tevinter after that."

"I said I'd take responsibility. The least I could do if be there to take the blast if Sigrid loses control," Lanil stated. Inflection still flat. Tightly and completely controlled. Cullen frowned darkly, but Dorian could see his hands shaking before he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No one likes a matyr, darling. Stop being so dramatic. We'll all be fine," Dorian said smoothly.

"We're going to be late," Lanil retorted, turning again towards the stables.

"What about the bear?" Cullen gritted out.

Lanil's facade broke as her head tilted. "The bear?"

"That man over there brought a bear and claims you know all about it," he said, waving towards the Avvar man.

Dorian couldn't help smirking at the bare-chested, fur-wearing man amid all the armored and multi-layered soldiers. For all their oddities, at least the Avvar knew how to appreciate the male chest. It was too early for the courtiers to be out & about, which was both disappointing for the scandalized twittering he was surely missing out on, but very fortunate for Lanil and Cullen's sake. Who, despite their carefully dull expressions and monitered voices, were as obvious as the Breach-made scar in the sky.

Suddenly Lanil's eyes lit up as the Avvar man neared them and she almost smiled.

"Storvacker!" she exclaimed.

Dorian couldn't quite repress his grin. "They actually sent Storvacker here?"

"You knew about this?" Cullen demanded. "Both of you?"

"Of course." Lanil tilted up her chin, mulish and stubborn. "I made the judgement. Storvacker is your agent now, Commander. Treat her with all due respect."

Cullen sputtered. The Avvar nodded to Lanil and grinned, all wide and toothsome and handsome. Alas that the only Avvar in Tevinter were those ne'er-do-wells causing mayhem with the goat-throwing Movran.

"Augur, it is a pleasure to see you again," the Avvar greeted.

Alas that this one only had eyes for women, it seemed.

Lanil nodded and then paused, head tilting again as she squinted.

"I know you. You were the first one up the wall at the Fortress."

"Tommar, augur. It's not often lowlanders tell us apart," Tommar said, obviously looking her up and down.

"You did an impressive job. Of course I remember. Where is Storvacker?" Lanil asked without a pause. Not noticing either Tommar's sudden prideful posturing or Cullen burying his face in his hand.

"Could this morning get any worse," Cullen whispered hoarsely.

Dorian's heart went out to him.

"She's down at the river, augur. She'll come up whenever she's ready," Tommar said. "I could take you to her now? I volunteered to come visit your Sky's Hold and offer you my services."

Dorian would not laugh. He caught the look on Cullen's face and, no, he really wouldn't laugh. Cullen met Dorian's eyes. Dorian hadn't seen him look like that since he'd watched Lanil training to face spiders again while she was slowly overwhelmed by her own panic.

Heartbroken and unable to say a thing.

"I'm about to leave Skyhold for the foreseeable future, Tommar, but you're welcome to the Inquisition. Commander Rutherford here is the leader of our forces, you should speak with him. About joining and Storvacker." She waved a hand at Cullen.

Tommar sized Cullen up, arms crossed. Cullen raised an eyebrow.

"My services were to you alone, augur. I'll return to Stone-Bear Hold once Storvacker is settled."

Lanil blinked. "All right." Her eyes suddenly widened. "Faith!" She shoved her saddlebags into Dorian's arms. He oofed loudly. She pointed at Tommar and ordered briskly, "You, with me. Dorian, I'll meet you by the river."

She ran past without a single glance back. Tommar shrugged with a grin and jogged after her. What was left of the crowd watched her leave before slowly dispersing, all muttering and whispering and carefully not looking at Cullen. He stood too still in the courtyard, hand clenching and unclenching and clenching into fists at his sides. Dorian hefted the saddlebags over a shoulder and approached him.

"Whatever it was, she'll come back," Dorian said quietly. Cullen startled, as if he had forgotten anyone else was around. "She'll come back and then you two can figure things out."

"No," Cullen whispered. "I don't think we will."

"If I may ask--" Dorian tried to ask without sounding like he prying. He didn't get far.

"You may not."

Dorian sighed. "I suppose this is our farewell, Commander. You are a good man and I am glad I got to know you, I hope you know that."

"I do now. Thank you." Cullen closed his eyes and his head lowered. "Please, watch out for her. As much as she'll allow."

"For as long as I'm able," Dorian agreed. He reached out to grip Cullen's shoulder. "She's the best friend I ever had, and that means... more than I can describe."

"Good. I..." Cullen broke off. His voice too thick and low. "Good. Safe travels, Dorian."

"Commander... Cullen, you are also are a good friend. Quite unexpectedly."

Cullen's shoulders tightened briefly, then he abruptly marched away. Dorian's hand left hanging in mid-air. Dorian frowned at his broad back, wishing there was any way, any words he could say, to help. In the end, he could only turn towards the stables and get started on those safe travels.

Part II

[frogtanii]

confusion.

that’s all daichi felt as he stumbled from yachi’s office after he finished his interview, the dim light coming from the sunset washing the hallway in a layer of color.

he wasn’t sure what to expect at first when he’d been called in, the previous members downright refusing to share what they’d discussed, but he had heard whispers that whatever you talked about was... bad.

you’d disappeared into your room after your interview, refusing to let anyone but atsumu in and even then, atsumu came out of his time with you looking worse for wear. neither of you joined the rather tense game night and it was clear the others were worried, but daichi just couldn’t understand why.

why were all the other house members (besides osamu) suddenly so invested in you and your well-being? contrary to popular belief, daichi was not dumb — he knew this was a long time coming, more of the people who he thought were his friends abandoning him to join you.

well maybe not just you, but they seemed to spend an awful lot of time and energy on the woman who’d destroyed meiko’s life. he just couldn’t make sense of it.

he was even more thrown when sugawara, his best friend, joined the trend and stopped talking to him, supporting you to the fullest and avoiding him at every turn. it felt wrong, somehow, that koushi was no longer by his side but he didn’t know what to do about it.

they clearly had a difference in beliefs — sugawara was hard pressed to believe that meiko was some kind of horrible person and daichi... well daichi loved her. he knew he did.

these thoughts overwhelmed him to the point where he was unable to sleep, tossing and turning while his mind raced to unravel the mystery of what was going on in the house.

“fuck,” daichi sighed as he glanced over at his alarm clock with bleary eyes. it read 2:57a and he let out a loud groan. there was no way he’d be able to sleep like this. he wracked his brain for something, anything, to help and he came up with a memory of akaashi telling him that a warm mug of chamomile would send anyone right to sleep.

letting out another sigh, daichi stood to his feet and trudged out of his room and towards the kitchen, ready to finally get some aid but as he approached, the sound of soft voices hit his ears.

on the couch sat you and koushi; you were wearing an oversized shirt (that must have belonged to bokuto) and colorful pajama pants (his guess was that they were kenma’s) and koushi was wearing old sweats and a hoodie. he looked shaken up about something, his eyes rimmed red as he muttered something to you, whatever was said prompting you to reach out and pull him into a hug.

daichi felt like he was intruding and severely out of place, his mind screaming at him to just turn around and go back to his room but he knew if he did, he’d never sleep, his mind full of even more questions than he had before.

so instead, he chose to clear his throat loudly as he walked further into the room, the sound frightening the both of you and causing you to let go of one another.

you shot daichi an uneasy, tired smile as you stood, before patting koushi on the shoulder and leaving the room. sugawara watched you go the entire time with metaphorical stars in his eyes and his heart on his sleeve. daichi repressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning toward the kitchen to prepare himself some tea.

to his surprise, sugawara didn’t leave the room. he actually made his way to the kitchen and sat at the counter, watching daichi fill up the kettle and place it on the stove.

the silence wasn’t awkward or oppressive but it was heavy, the unasked questions hanging over them in the air. it was daichi who chose to break it.

“so, what was that about?” he winced at the state of his voice, cracky and weak but he powered through, chancing a glance at his old friend.

sugawara looked tired but also defeated, like he was simultaneously expecting that question and wishing that it hadn’t been asked. “i was apologizing.”

daichi knew he was staring incredulously now but he couldn’t help it. suga was apologizing? for what? what could he possibly apologize for? when he voiced this, koushi scoffed and turned away.

“are you kidding? we have so much to apologize for. we all treated her like shit.”

“but doesn’t she deserve that? she hurt meiko deeply!”

“nobody deserves what we did! nobody! god, daichi, yn has done so much for me and—“

“like what, hm? what exactly has she done for you?”

“i... i can’t tell you that.”

“can’t or won’t?”

the room fell into silence, a stark contrast to the shouting that had been taking place just moments before. both men were warring with themselves and suga was the one to give in.

“meiko assaulted me, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?” koushi’s voice sounded so weak, so broken, and daichi saw red.

“...what?” the words were uttered low and disbelieving as daichi clenched his hands into fists to keep them from quivering with rage.

suga ran a hand through his sliver locks before shaking his head. “i really don’t want to talk about this with you, daichi.”

“but you’ll talk about it with her.”

“fuck off, that’s not fair and you know it,” koushi spat, pushing himself to his feet as he was readying himself to leave. he looked so hurt that daichi couldn’t stop himself from grabbing his arm gently.

“i know... i’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears and sincerity. he just wanted suga to open up to him, for them to go back to the way they used to be but he was different now. they both were.

koushi shook his head softly and gingerly removed himself from daichi’s hold. “i’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he whispered before turning and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

daichi was alone. again. he sniffed and wiped his eyes to get rid of any residual tears as he moved back to the kitchen to finish making his tea. not that it would do him any good—the information he was just given would definitely keep him up until morning.

he was having a difficult time processing what had just occurred and yet, he knew he was in the wrong on multiple occasions. he’d abandoned his best friend in his time of need and sided with his attacker. daichi couldn’t even claim that he was suga’s friend anymore with what he’d done. no, he’d earn back his place. he just needed to figure out how to make things right.

whatever it takes.

℗ poker face

whatever it takes

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - daichi arc start! skdjjd anw this chapter is a lil wack??? but i hope it at least gets the point across lmfaoo oh n daisuga are working out their issues! s not as cut n dry as the other friendships were but i think this way adds more ~flavor~ hehe don’t forget to feed me!! <:333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[xoxo-teddybear]

Cheater? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: fake cheating, cursing, angst, fluff, crack

Summary: PRANK WARS!! After coming to the conclusion that his own girlfriend pulls better pranks than him and has been one up-ing a lot recently, Katsuki decided to break their unspoken rule and pull a cheating prank

A/N: I recommend reading this fic as a continuation of this fic. It’s about Y/N’s revenge.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“I don’t know who the fuck is listening right now, but I, Katsuki fucking Bakugou, am begging whatever heavenly body, god, spiritual being, whatever the fuck it could be, to ensure that my girlfriend does not leave my dumbass for pulling this prank. Thank you, bless.”

Bakugou kept his eyes shut with his palms pressed together in a praying motion for the longest time while he spoke to something to protect his relationship. When he was done, he took a breather and got up from the shared bed. He took out the camera and set it up behind Y/N’s makeup stuff to hide it and began to put his prank into action.

A few hours ago he had Kirishima pretend to be a girl and had his best friend flirt with him through text. This went on for some time to make sure that if you were to scroll through his conversation, you’d find a lot of messages. At the end of the texts, Bakugou had Kirishima find a random pic online of some random girl’s ass and had the red head sent it. Bakugou answered it with a very flirtatious text, which had Kirishima send a very cutesy, appreciated reply in a very girly matter, which ended the conversation. Bakugou changed his friend’s name to some random name, Kiyoko, and finished the job. Yes, the two friends were very uncomfortable doing this whole thing.

With the camera now recording, all Bakugou needed to begin his prank was his prized possession. You.

—

Bakugou and you were cuddling on the king sized bed. You both were just talking about whatever while Katsuki remained on his phone. You didn’t see it yet, but Katsuki was “texting” his friend. In reality, he was just waiting for you to look up at his screen to notice the scandalous texts he and this “Kiyoko” were having.

“Baby?” You asked while looking at your pretty acrylics.

“Yes baby?” Bakugou said while still looking at his phone. He had his arm wrapped around you while you layed on him with your cheek on his chest.

“Ion know...I love you baby,” you said in the cutest voice. Bakugou could only make a face of extreme awe to appreciate his precious girlfriend.

“I love you too Teddy Bear,” he said. You lifted your head to smile at him but you took notice of how he was still staring at his phone.

You pouted before smirking and climbing up to come face to face with him. You got in between him and his phone and grabbed his face with both hands. He smiled at you before you leaned down to peck his lips multiple times. Once you were done you tucked your head under his chin and looked to the side, just enjoying the moment. He kissed the crown of your head before going back to “texting.”

At the sound of him pressing random things on the keyboard, your pout returned. “Baby~ Pay attention to me!!” You whined.

You removed your head out from under his chin and layed your head next to his. You looked at his phone and saw a ‘thank you’ with a kissy face emoji from a “Kiyoko” before Katsuki switched the screen to some random game. “Who’s Kiyoko?”

“Hm?” Katsuki asked, pretending to be oblivious.

“Who’s Kiyoko? You were just on a text chat with her, why is she sending you a kissy face?” You asked with a little more attitude. You tried to take the phone out of his hand but he pulled it away.

“She’s just a friend, babe.” Bakugou said.

“Okay, well if she’s just a friend then why can’t I see?” You questioned.

“Because there’s nothing to see.”

“She sent you a kissy face. That’s something I’d like to see.” You said while easily taking his phone out of his hand.

“Babe, no.” He said and took the phone back. “Shes just a friend.” You took the phone back and he tried to grab it again before you held the phone away at a distance to make sure he couldn’t grab it. “Babe. Noo, stooppp.”

“If she’s just a friend then why’re you trying to hide it?” You asked with the phone still far away and him attempting to reach for it.

“Cuz we’re about to go out and-“

“What the fuck?!” You said as you looked to the texts. You froze in your position as you brought the phone closed and scrolled through the texts, stumbling upon the picture. Bakugou tried to take the phone away from you but failed (on purpose.)

“She just wanted an opinion,” he tried explaining.

“An opinion?!” You asked while sitting up and pushing him off of you. “She sent you a booty pic with you complimenting her and shit. And you’re over here calling her babe!”

“It’s not like that-“

“Then what the fuck is it like Katsuki?!” You asked. You went back to the text and reread some of the messages out loud. “‘Bet you enjoyed it when I wrecked you last night, Relax Princess Y/N’s never gonna find out, I love you Kiyoko-‘ Are you fucking serious?!” You said with a cracked voice as you looked at him.

He put on a small smile for the act but on the inside it hurt him to see you like this, but the prank would prevail. “Baby, calm down.”

“I’m not gonna calm down Katsuki, you’re cheating on me!” You continued to go on and on about how pissed you were and Katsuki was struggling to hold back his laughs. He eventually got up to run to the downstairs bathroom so he could let out his chuckles. “Where the fuck are you going?! We’re not done with this conversation!”

Bakugou said nothing as he ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He bursted out in laughter as he crouched over due to all the excitement. He looked in the mirror and ruffled his hair a bit as he remembered the way you looked. The sad you would’ve made his heart ached but the angry you just made him laugh and kind of turned him on in a way.

After getting all his giggles out, he calmed down and got back into character. He opened the door to the bathroom only to see you walking down the stairs with your jacket and shoes on, carrying a small bag. “Baby?”

At the sound of his voice you only looked his way with a mean glare as you continued your walk to the front door. Bakugou ran to you as fast as he could as worry spilled through his body. “Baby, stop. Where are you going?”

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m done, we’re done. I’m going.” You said with a cold voice. Bakugou ran in front of you and held onto your arms as he pushed you back further into the house but you fought against his hold.

“Y/N, stop. It was just a prank.” Bakugou whined.

“Like I fucking believe that.” You said while trying to pry his hands off of you. Bakugou whimpered as he grew worried and felt himself getting choked up. He could feel the tears approaching but held them back. He could still save himself.

“Baby please. Come back upstairs, I’ll show you the camera!” He begged but you finally got his hands off of you as you ran to the door. You ran out the door and Bakugou grew frantic as he ran to the room to get the camera. When he came back down and ran out to the front to show you, you had already backed out of the driveway and were driving down the street. “Y/N!”

Bakugou ran back upstairs and into the bedroom to find his phone on the bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He was quick to find your number and call you but you declined it. He called again a few more times and like before, you declined them. He called you so much that eventually, you stopped declining them and just began to straight up ignore them. This led to Bakugou leaving voicemails.

“Baby? Please pick up it was just a prank.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I swear it was a prank! Please come back home!”

“Please come back Y/N! It was just a joke, none of it was real! Please answer me.”

“Baby, please come back. I love you.”

When he realized you weren’t going to answer, he opened up the messages with Kirishima and changed his name back before calling him.

“Hello?”

“Kirishima!” Bakugou said and his friend could practically hear the tears. “Prank went wrong! Went so wrong! Y/N fucking left! She didn’t even give me a chance to explain!”

Bakugou began hyperventilating as he tugged at his hair and looked around. He didn’t even focus on what Kirishima was saying as he looked around the once shared bedroom. He went through the closet and saw some of your clothes and shoes missing. Some of your makeup was off the vanity and when Bakugou looked to the nightstand to see the smashed picture frame that held the image of you both on your third year anniversary, he began sobbing.

“Please! Just fucking call her to explain! That’s all!”

“Alright, I’ll do it. Don’t worry, okay?” His friend replied to which Bakugou only hung up. He had every right to worry. His dumbass was about to lose you. Bakugou sat back down on the bed as he cried into his hands some more. He looked at himself in the large mirror hanging on the wall before scrunching his face and screaming.

“FUCK!” He shouted and threw something at the wall. He didn’t know what he grabbed, he just knew it broke. Bakugou flopped onto the large bed and cried some more as he waited for something, anything, to happen. But that night, nothing did.

—

3 days had passed and for 3 days Bakugou had constantly been calling you, your friends, your family, anybody he could do that he could reach you. He had constantly been crying and regretting pulling that stupid, stupid prank. It wasn’t worth losing you.

For the past few days, Kirishima had been checking up on Katsuki. He had been coming over a few times a day by using the hidden house key you both left under a rock on at the house entrance. On the third day, Bakugou told him to stop coming by and that he wanted to be by himself.

—

Bakugou had been hallowing in sadness on the bed until he heard the door open. He sighed again and walked to this bedroom door. On his way there he took notice of his appearance in the mirror and even though he was in the dark, he still saw his red, puffy eyes and tired face. He finally opened the door and walked to the living room so he could ward off his pesky friend.

“Shitty Hair, I told you that I didn’t wa-“ his eyes popped open at the sight he saw in the living room. He froze on the spot but felt immediate relief. “Y/N!”

“...Hi Katsuki,” you said in a soft voice. Bakugou smiled and instantly ran to you to pull you in for a tight hug. He squeezed you tight and grew joyous when he felt you softly hug him back.

“I missed you so much! I’m so fucking sorry, it was just a prank I swe-“

“Katsuki! I know, okay? Kirishima told Mina and she told me everything.” You explained and pushed him off slightly so you could face him. He nodded in understanding and you took note of his red eyes and nose. You sighed before speaking. “This is why we don’t pull pranks like this Katsuki!”

He sadly chuckled at you reprimanding him but nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah...I’m so sorry, Baby.”

“You should be! I almost actually left you!” You said with a little pout. Bakugou sadly laughed with relieved tears in his eyes as he held you.

“I know. I swear I won’t do anything like this again.” He promised.

“You better not.” You said, squished against his chest. You leaned up and kissed his cheek before you dragged him to the couch. You and Bakugou spent the rest of the day making up and cuddling. Everything felt so right again and Bakugou definitely learned his lesson.

A/N: not spell checked, sorry! Ummm…THIS KINDA SUCKED😭🤣

Tag list : @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight

[nevenabadr]

50 Shades of You! Tom Hiddleston X Female! Reader

Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for Tom Hiddleston. I have not written fiction for ages. English is not my first language.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

–Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Word count: 2660

Warnings: Romance, sweet words, and smut–this is +21 and not for everyone.

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback. 💚

-------------------------------------------------------

During the summer Cambridge University was having a conference "Gothic Elements In John Milton's Paradise Lost." As you the young professor of literature, the coordinate manager suggested that the University alumnus could join for not just attending, but acting a piece of the tragedy. Amongst the candidates was the Classic department graduate and famous actor, Tom Hiddleston. 

You know that he might have scheduled issues or time conflicts, but you suggested the committee email him. To your surprise, he accepted the offer. 

 

The scene of choice was casting the devil out of hell.

On the stage during the conference eve, you did not have the perfect time to watch him, but you took a glimpse of acting from far.

He even caught your show and face attending the rehearsals.

The conference day was pressuring. You were trying to get everything right, in the middle of your so-close meltdown. A voice brought you to reality, "Hello, is this professor Y/N)?"

You turned to find the British handsome alumni smiling peacefully at you. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Indeed, I am the one offering help." As he adjusted his glasses, I asked the committee manager to take upon some errant backstage. Maybe I can assist with the front ceremony?"

"Of course," you paused for a moment, "can you help me with the dinner's seats arrangement? My assistant is absent and I have to print and arrange them myself."

"Just show me a computer and all will be done."

Both of you took your time arranging an evening missing up some seats. 

 

"Here comes my name. You will be seated with the professors, of course!" He was busy putting name tags over the table.

"Oh! Don't remind me." You replied as if it is a conversation with an old friend and continued "the Classic department and Literature."

"They might start a war." Both of you started laughing 

"I have an idea." He took a tag from his table and moved yours next to his. "Now you will be with a friend"

The presentations finished, you had to go for the gym showers to change and wear your conference and dinner dress.

By the time you arrived, the scene from the tardy was about to be played. You took your place in the front seat.

Tom was playing Satan. He noticed that you were reciting the lines with him. He even almost smiles at you. Could not hold himself from looking at you in the front row while playing the scene of...

 

"All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield; (And what is else not to be overcome?) That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee and deify his power, Who from the terror of his arm so late Doubted his empire[.] (I, 106–114)"

 

Your facial expressions captured his eyes, the movement of your lips and then the flame of your applause. 

At the dinner, he was interested to hear all about your work and writings. His eyes could not able to leave you.

 

By the end of the dinner, he walked you to your car, "this was lovely, thank you for tonight" 

You smiled at him, "thank you for accepting our invitation."

You shake hands and opened your car door like the gentleman he is.

"Would you like to go out with me, for a coffee? Books and coffee, maybe." He did not hesitate to ask.

"I would love to. You already have my number within the conference contact information." You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

As your car drove away, he knew he was up for an adventure.

Three months later, you are happily dating and sharing sweet kisses. He suggested a film marathon. Each week one of you chose a topic.

That Saturday's topic was Russian Literature and you had to add: "or inspired by it" 

"Excuse me, but Tolstoy has no comparison!" He grimaced

"Shadow and Bones, love!" You teased him, "it the Netflix adaption of the era" 

"After Anna Karenina, please," he sounded like an old professor.

"Alright then, deal." You tickled him and kissed his lips softly

Both of you enjoyed Anna Karenina, however, you were crying in his arms.

"That dreadful ending." 

He hugged you "Hey, Shadow and Bones will make it up to you, let me make extra popcorn." Once again, he kissed you.

He came back with popcorn that will at least survive three episodes. You snuggled between his arms.

"Look at Alexie, how he said 'Make me your villain.'" 

You were swooning as a fangirl.

"I beg your pardon, I am literally a villain," he complained

Oh! I would literally," stressing upon the last word, "let him have me"

His face was irritated and you not coming close to making love made him anxious, that you might not be ready. He never inquired about you.   

You caressed his tummy, "hey, a penny for your thoughts, sir." It sounded like one of the Jack the Ripper prostitutes, about which you have constantly been talking.

His voice evolved deeper and his eyes did not leave yours "your deepest sexual desire. What do you crave?"

Comparing to your age, you were nervous and inexperienced. "My life was spent between books. I..."

He did not let you continue speaking and took your lips between his drawing your body closer to him, uttering between his hot kisses "I am not just a villain" his lips made the earth move "I am a God" whispering against the sport skin of your nick " a king" his hands were moving down the same tomes his lips reached the line of your bosom whilst his hand slides prevailed touching down pussy and dug his fingers driving you till the edge.

"I want you," you whispered between your soft moans.

He neglected your cravings and maintained his rhythm, watching your complexion and closed eyes till you arched your back in awe.

You collapsed between his arms heavily breathing "that was extremely wonderful, but I need you"

He kissed your lips playfully. "you are a delicious girl, Y/N, but..."

You hashed him with a kiss that he pulled from "if your life was between books, I want you to write me your deepest desire."

"Darling, it was a series, Alexie is fictional." You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Fictional or not, he is a man, you are paying for this." 

He was deadly serious "write me your longing."

You laugh "What? Like the 50 Shades of Y/N?"

He gazed into your eyes "aiming to please and punish you, darling, avenging my honour"

The next morning when you were with your family on Sunday's lunch, he opened an email titled "50 Shades of Y/A"

 

The content was as follows:

"You!"

 

He grinned to himself and determined to show her how fiction can become real.

Your week was busy. He had signed a new contract for a mini-series and was supposed to film soon.

Not replying to your email made you nervous, even went meeting for dinner. He was quiet about it. 

You checked your sent box millions of times to make sure it arrived. Still, you knew he was busy working, and you were busy with the finals coming soon.

Thursday’s dinner, nothing yet, nothing but gaggling and discussing your days and current reads. 

"Darling, we did not decide this week's marathon" 

He did not take his eyes off the menu "Are not you having a big family week, you should go" he was confident and calm. 

Deep inside you wanted to grab his neck and jiggle him, but for the lady you are and the restaurant, you were calm.

"Wonderful!"

The dinner was over; he drove you home, kissed you goodnight.

Saturday morning, a ringing at your door. Apparently, you received a package, a big one.

You kept thinking that some books might have come early from your publisher. Unwrapping it to a surprise satin 1950 coat with Ruby red entourage and black heels.

There was also a note, she recognised the handwriting:

 

"Wear nothing but this for your punishment. If other pieces were found upon your body, then fear my fury and vengeance.

Love, 

T"

 

So, it was her version of Mr Grey. But have you ever been ready to comply with anyone?"

Suddenly, a message arrived on your phone 

"Reminder, a black will pick you tonight at 8, don't disobey me, Princess."

Your heel clicked on the floor as a man dressed in an old fashion suit opened the car for you. The windows were blacked out, so you did not see where it was heading.

"Welcome, Princess," he greeted you as if you were royalty, "My master is awaiting your presence."

You took his hands. The place was carved out of one of your favourite dark fantasies, a mansion with gargoyles, dark lighting, and a vast garden.

You could not believe your eyes. Tom knew your deepest desires indeed.

But that is not the end.

The inside was as of a dark enchantment with deep red flowers and candles. The servant showed you the way to a dining room fit for a feast. Tom was not there. 

"My master requires you to await his arrival." The servant bowed and left.

You were like a child been left inside her favourite toyshop. The ornaments, the lighting, and even the shapes of the food. That aesthetic you only could dream of but never reach.

"Enjoying yourself already?" You turned to find your man dressed in a black Victorian suit. His face was shaved, shorter hair, no glasses. Just all of the handsome glory.

You took a step forward "no princess, I shall come for you"

He kissed your hand and then sat on the table's head, while it sat on the opposite side and faced you away indeed.

"Are you pleased, princess?" He raised his glass of red wine.

"Yes, my Prince." You smile.

"In here, you shall address me as your king." His eyes lit with fire, and his voice was harsh.

You played along and raised an eyebrow "my king."

"This is not a game, princess, you are my prisoner"

You dined quietly, as he did not drop his eyes from you.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You flirted "deeply, my king"

He left his chair and came closer to you, his fingers left your chain so you can gaze into your eyes.

He asked, "care for a dance?"

You smiled "I would love to."

You stepped forward and took his hand to a ballroom, just for you and him, the dark king.

The following piece of music was sensual and moving.

"The coat, princess, I want to see nothing but heels on your body,"

You obeyed the king, but for a tick. When you took it off, underneath it a short emerald green strapless corset dress tight upon the curves of your body and pushed your bosoms to their glory.

He grinned and his eyes darken "looking for further punishment, I suppose?" 

"Anything to please the king." You took his hand and kissed it. He did not expect it.

He turned furiously and the next song was romantic. He wrapped his arms around you once again, waltz, you sneaky woman, deserved joy before being punished.

Twirling you on the dance floor like the earth has no one but the two of you.

By the end, he carried you "to my chambers, little one"

You were nervous and anxious. What if he did not like what was underneath the dress?

He entered a candlelight room with a four-poster bed in the centre. The curtains of the bed were black and emerald. 

He laid you in bed, kissing your lips and playing with your hair. 

His breathing was heating against your skin.

"You won't miss that dress, will you, princess?"

He did not wait for your reply as he lifted a dagger amongst the layers of his suit and cut the corset down to the last piece of the dress.

You wore nothing else. You were lying exposed as he stood to look upon your naked curves for the first time. 

You spontaneously tried to cover your bosom and private parts.

"No, do not you dare" he was angry and you could not distinguish reality from fantasy.

You throw the rest of the dress away. Hands laying by your head and he stood there for a juncture, gazing at every inch of your body.

"Turn," he ordered angrily as if the soul of Loki took over him, "I said, turn" 

You nearly dropped tears "here my king" 

You felt the softness of his lips upon your delicate shoulders.

Kissing the line of your spine. He knows this will work like magic. You tickle from your back, now trying to lick you, taste you, slap you.

He flipped you to face him. You were sobbing. He could hear it under your moans.

"You are not a princess, you are not a queen."

He wipes her tears from her cheek "you are a goddess and I am your slave."

You giggled between your tears, wrapping your arms around his neck "my king"

"Your, slave" As his voice became softer, he hushed you with a finger.

He kissed every inch of your body. You were playing with his short blonde locks.

"Let me worship your bosom, my goddess" he kissed, licked and played with your nipples and cupped your bosoms gently.

Kissing down till he reached your pussy, "Let me worship your temple" as he licked your clitoris.

You were moaning loader now

“Not this time, my king I want you inside me."

"Alright, as the pleasure of my goddess, I shall obey." 

He adjusted his weight on you and asked, "wider for me, my goddess of beauty" 

You opened for him as he enters you for the first time. You let out a loud breath "are you alright" he took your hands between his.

"Continue, my king."

He is just thrusting himself gently inside you. Your moans filling the room 

"I am a villain, a king, a god, and a man"

Your hands were free to run along his back as he continued, "a man, no, a slave for my goddess"

You were moving with him and moaning louder, "my king, what else?"

 Thursinting himself harder and moving with a faster pace.

"My goddess, the sculptures of beauty," between his breathing and moaning "Da Vinci would not be able to capture your grace"

You were kissing as your nail dug inside his shoulders.

His last whispers as moving himself inside your pussy which was clutching around his manhood. He moved with pace, as you rocked your lap against him

"I will live in thy heart," kissing your lips as you bite his lower lip between your steamy breath. "Die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

He was going faster now and you were in tremendous awe and your skin was heating up with your pleasure.

"Look at me goddess" you were closing your eyes as you become close to you your orgasm "look at me," he ordered 

"I love thee, Tom," you said as your pussy was clutching around his manhood and trembling underneath him. His enormous climax followed your orgasm. 

You were shaking. He used his hands to keep himself from crushing you with his weight.

He rested his forehead on yours till both of you caught your breath. Gently took you between his arms as resting on his side "and I love thee, Y/N"

kissed you and as you were falling asleep, yet muttered, "I made you my villain, did not I?"

He giggles, "I beg your pardon, your God, King, and lover"

You kissed for the last time of that night and snuggle between peacefully each other's arms.

----------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

@brokenwitty

@221bshrlocked (awaiting your feedback)

@sinner-as-saint

@zemosimp05

@buckys-fairy

[quillsanddaydreams]

i don't like you

james potter x reader

—author's note: This was a story from my main that I adored so I thought why not rewrite it? The plot is the same, my ability to tell a story however, has changed. James and you do not like each other. Not even a bit. I hope you enjoy ;) Please do leave a comment, it makes my day.

—warning(s): couple of harmless pranks, slytherin! gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—word count: 3,431

Groaning, you got up and squinted to make out the details of your dorm. Shouts and rushing made your head thump. You slowly realized a god-awful smell was filling up your room, quicker than you could think. Squeezing your nose shut, you rushed out. Other Slytherins were alongside you, you could hear coughing all around. Your eyes pricked with tears, your throat felt raw. Seeing a very familiar messy dark-haired boy run away jeering; you sensed rage gripping your form like a vice.

Third time. It was the third time the same week that Potter and the elder Black brother had pranked you all. Except it wasn’t funny anymore. That was what pranks were supposed to be right? Something that made everyone laugh along? Looking towards Elodie who was clenching her eyes shut at the sensation, you made a plan in your mind. You knew it was crazy. But when did that ever stop you? James had never conversed with you. Nor you, him. Yet it was clear that he did not like Slytherins. Not one bit.

-♡♡♡-

James yawned, stretching his limbs for a new day. Scrunching his nose, he felt a flowery scent attack him. Maybe it was just Sirius with one of his experiments. Shrugging, he got up and into the shower. That day he had transfiguration, charms, and astronomy. Thankfully nothing with the snakes, they might still be sour about the prank they pulled yesterday. Getting out of the washroom, he hummed to himself as he passed Peter who was still fast asleep. Remus was asleep and Sirius was furiously scribbling on his homework. Always finishing at the last moment.

He didn’t realize the uniform he was putting on until he looked at himself in the mirror. And boy oh boy did he panic. Eyes widening almost comically, he rummaged through his wardrobe, everything a dark green color with silver accents. A note fell at his feet.

“Dearest Marauders,

Take this beautiful gift of green robes from me. I know not all of you deserved this, but then again, I didn't feel like any of you should be left behind. I know how much you love us, Slytherins. Why not showcase it?

With love,

(Y/n) (Y/l/n)”

“Sirius! Remus!” he called out. “Wormtail!”

Sirius didn’t even look up from his parchment, Remus let out a grunt in response. The only answer he got was a faint ‘what’ from the shared bathroom.

“Mates listen to this,” James said firmly, reading the letter out loud. That got their attention. “Our robes are all green. Vivid Slytherin green!”

Remus got up suddenly, with wide eyes rushing to check his almirah. He groaned loudly on finding them in the same predicament James foretold grass-like and smelling heavily of flowers. Sirius however, started crackling.

“What?” James bellowed, his nostrils flaring.

“Well, the sarcasm in that letter is…” He snorted, stopping himself seeing James’s frown. James shook his head as Remus glared at them both.

“This has a strong one-week dye,” he said, punctuating each word, infuriated. “There’s no way it can be removed before the expected time. Why should I suffer for all the things you two do?”

“And I am not suffering?” James quipped back as Remus just shook his head, huffing, and went back to his bed. James looked at Sirius who didn’t look worried at all.

“What? Aren’t you bothered at all?” James asked.

“I look great in everything,” he replied shrugging, making James want to punch him.

He dressed up quickly after, dashing out of the dorm towards the great hall. Ignoring the looks of the students from around and the snickers he looked for you amidst the Slytherin table. It was infuriating, how casually you ate your breakfast, almost oblivious. Stalking towards your place, he cleared his throat grabbing your attention. Your eyes sparkled amusedly, taking in his appearance.

“Why the hell did you do this?” he demanded.

“Now, that’s not a way to talk about the gift I gave you,” you said, batting your eyelashes as he scowled at you. You muttered a spell under your breath, waving your wand slightly before continuing. “I worked hard, you know?”

“You Slytherins are the best thing to walk on this planet!” he shouted before he could stop himself. His eyes grew large. Everyone’s attention now seemed to be on your table.

“Thank you, I know,” you smirked, challenging him. He narrowed his eyes on you.

“You put a speaking charm on me didn’t you?” he hissed as you put on an innocently sweet expression.

“Well, I thought you needed some help with words,” you prompted, getting better reactions than you hoped for. James growled, jumping up and down in annoyance. You tried not to laugh. Did. But the corners of your mouth turned up anyways. He looked like an idiot. The giggle you let out grabbed his attention, his cheeks turning a rosy red.

“I don’t like you,” he said in a rather squeaky voice.

“I don’t like you,” you retaliated. James hated himself for thinking the laugh you let out looking adorable. Anger, which was more of a frustration gawned on his skin. He knew exactly what he was going to do next. Giving you a sickly sweet smile, he enjoyed the slight shiver that went through your arm. Let the prank war begin.

-♡♡♡-

You rushed out of the bathroom, vexed. It had been a long exhausting day and this was the last thing you needed. Your skin was tinted green. Bright neon green. Elodie stared at you in stupor.

“What happened?” she asked and you couldn’t help the raucous whine that escaped your lips.

“I don’t know, okay? I was in the shower and after using soap, my skin turned freaking green,” you hissed as Elodie tried to calm you. You handed her a small piece of paper. “Oh and look what I found beside the shampoo bottle.”

Dear (Y/n),

A gift from me, to showcase your pride in your house. You could thank me later.

James.

P.S. This gift in no way means I’ve started liking you. I don’t.

“James. James did this; that bastard!” you said, nostrils flaring as Elodie rubbed your back.

“Well, it’s just hands and legs…”

“I'm gonna get back at him. Just watch me.”

Your jaw clenched. You knew just what you were gonna do. James started a fight with the wrong person. And you didn’t like him. At all.

-♡♡♡-

You were reading your book when you saw James pacing towards you, from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a straight face, you fixed your gaze on the book in your hand. Yet you couldn’t help the twitch your mouth gave as he stood right in front of you, folding his arms.

“Wow,” he breathed through clenched teeth. You looked up.

“Real mature of you,” he said in a baby’s voice. It sounded like he pronounced everything through his nose. You made an effort not to start crackling right then.

“Well, one of us had to be, right?”

“Yeah. And giving me the baby voice makes you the adult.”

“I’d think so, yes.” You said brushing his hair. They were surprisingly soft. James glared at you.

“I don’t like you.” He squeaked as you raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we already established that. I don’t like you either boy,” You said, letting out a laugh.

-♡♡♡-

Adjusting your cap, you pulled your books closer to you. It was like everyone was staring at you. Specifically how stupid you looked. A whistle caught your attention. James, it had to be. When you turned towards the sound, you were sadly proved right.

“I like your cap,” he commented, clicking his tongue.

“Geez. Thank you. Just bought it,” you said, threateningly. Take one step James, I dare you; you thought. He didn’t get the message.

“I wonder how it would look on me,” he said, taking a step towards you. You hissed.

“Sorry, not gonna let you borrow it,” you tried to say in a normal tone, but it came out quite high pitched. James dared to grin.

“What if I just…” he said, coming closer as you took a step back, glowering at him in a warning. Not that he took it. He snatched the cap from your head as the long white hair fell. They reached your feet.

“James, give it back,” you warned and he put it on his head.

“Nope,” he said, his eyes full of mischief. You hesitated at his expression, he looked as candid as a child. Maybe you never noticed it, his hair fell round in pretty curls, framing his face. James winked, making you break out of your reverie.

“I think,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to keep this cap with me, I quite like it. If you want it back, you’re gonna have to take it from me.”

James took a step back as your eyes dilated. He turned around and started sprinting in that direction.

“James!” you shouted, chasing him.

People around you bolted aside, gasping at the scene. A ghostly white-haired student chasing after James as he chortled. It had been going for quite some time and everyone wondered who would win. Few in the favour of James, who had been pranking ever since he set foot in Hogwarts; a few for you since you were a Slytherin and Slytherins never lose. Others just shook their heads, wishing they would get it over with already the cat and mouse game was becoming rather tiring. No one however had the courage to raise their opinions out loud, lest they got involved in the prank war.

-♡♡♡-

“James," you said calmly, though the atmosphere made you anything but. Thick hot fumes rose from all around you making beads of sweat form on your forehead. "James, this doesn’t go in. We have to stir it first.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Little miss know-it-all” he snided. You looked at him fiercely. Slughorn had paired the two of you together for the next project and it couldn’t be more of a disaster. Only if he could just listen.

“I would if you let me,” you pointed out, finally taking over the shared pot. James watched you take a few breaths before starting to work on the potion. Muttering for ingredients from him now and then, you stirred the concoction. Soon, it started to show the exact signs given in their books.

James couldn't help but stare at you as you worked, humming to yourself all the while. You seemed cute like that, bending over the book, occasionally muttering to yourself. His face heated up when you caught his gaze. Luckily he could blame it on the heat.

“Could you cut some beetroots for me?” you asked, ignoring the way he flushed. James nodded, chopping them to the required amount. The two of you finished up fairly swiftly after that.

"So," you started after Slughorn left. He had commented on your work and applauded you both. Happiness was evident from the smiles on your faces. "Library at 4?"

James grinned, giving you a thumbs up. He packed up his stuff before turning to leave. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating figure, thinking, maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Shrugging, you shook away the thought and went your own way. There were things you had to get done that day.

-♡♡♡-

As time passed, the thought started becoming more predominant. He wasn't so bad, your mind reminded you time and time again. The more you started to know James, the more you believed in it. Constant teasing and bickering wasn’t something that became unheard of between the two of you. But it was more lighthearted now… almost as if you were friends crackling over a shared joke. James had somehow caught your eye again, in a completely different way.

It seemed you were noticing new things about him, like how he didn’t look at you with hatred. Come to think of it, was it even ever ‘hate’? Yet there was something soft about the way he gazed at you now, gentle even— you couldn’t put your finger on it. You had come to enjoy his goofy personality, the smile he gave when his eyes were light with mischief. Knowing where these musings led, you had tried your best to beat them down. What was it that you did not try? Remembering every single detail that made you despise him once, all those times your blood boiled at the prank he pulled but nothing— nothing ever worked and your heart still fluttered every time he complimented you.

Was it that bad an idea though? Liking James?

You shivered, pulling your sweater closer to you. Walking had failed to heat your body the way it always did and you reckoned that your deliberation also had something to do with that. It wasn’t about you liking him, your mind prompted, it was about whether he could feel the same way. And if you knew something, you knew that you couldn’t take the answer to be no. The skip in your step halted, and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips.

Path to the library couldn’t have been more daunting. That was until you saw James and Lily around the corner. Talking, laughing, and standing too close to be called friends. Evans, the one girl James was head over heels for, the one girl you never paid attention to much.

It was like the final shoe dropping. James and you didn’t like each other. People knew that you did as well. It was time you believed it too. Your stomach twisted up at the sight, your mood souring. You turned, walking away.

“Oi!” James called out to you, apologizing to the students he bumped into. You brisked forward, hoping to make it to your dorm. It didn’t work, James ran to catch up with you. Damn his long legs.

“Stop fucking running,” he huffed on reaching you. “Where are you going? We have a study session. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I was heading to the library but you and Evans seemed quite busy, so I thought against it,” you said, albeit aggressively. Jealousy was never a good color.

“We were just talking for a moment,” James explained. “I want us to complete the project first though.”

He looked at you, confused. It was hard controlling your anger right then. You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped your lips.

“Of course,” you said in a temper. “The faster we finish up the project, the faster you can get rid of me, right? Because you don’t like me.”

James’ smile dropped. Sadness gave way to rage. Of course, you still thought that even after all the time he spent with you.

“Yeah. I don’t like you,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “So let’s complete the project, shall we? To get rid of each other?”

You looked away. It was the last thing you wanted to hear. You yearned for him to tell you otherwise, to apologize for his words, and to reassure you that it wasn’t so. That you two were something. Friends, companions, anything but this. Yet the bigger part of you told you that he was right. And you were nothing to him.

“Yeah, sure.”

-♡♡♡-

The following study session was tense. You two never worked quietly. Jokes, laughs, and incessant chatter filled the air when you were together. James had regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He watched your expression fall and a wall build up around you. Your eyes hadn’t met his since. It ate him up. Somehow he didn’t know how to break the bubble he created.

He hated seeing you close off to him.

You heaved a sigh checking the last lines you’d written and then looked at the clock. It had been two hours.

“I think we should stop. There are just two pages left, we can do them tomorrow and you’ll be free,” you said, packing up your things. James opened and closed his mouth as you picked up your bag.

“Hey, wait!” he said as you turned towards him.

“I didn’t mean to, “ James started, but you cut him off.

“James, it’s alright,” you said, taking a deep breath blinking away the tears that emerged. “I understand. You don’t like me, I don’t like you and we’re stuck together for some time. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

James sucked in a breath. That wasn’t right. At all.

“But—“

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a voice came and you shifted to see Elodie. You looked over at James, whose eyes pleaded you to stop. But you couldn’t.

You left the library, walking towards your friend leaving behind the boy who stood transfixed at his spot. Why did he feel like he was losing everything? He grudgingly moved his feet towards the common room, your thoughts plaguing his mind. James heard a shout behind him, twisting to see Lily jog up to him.

“James, I was wondering,” she began biting her lip. “Maybe we could sneak out for some butterbeers today? It’s freezing and the snow looks heavenly.”

James found himself shaking his head. His mood was far too spoiled for anything.

“Not today, Lily,” he answered. “I’m tired.”

“Oh, I meant it as a date, you know?” Lily added hopefully. James considered her for a moment. It was everything he had wished for years. Yet he couldn’t feel the happiness that should have come with it. He wanted, no— he needed someone else, someone who made him far giddier. He needed you.

It was like a bolt striking him. He had never been so sure of anything else. Unable to keep the grin off his face, he spoke his next words in a rush.

“Lily, I’m sorry but I can’t,” he shouted, sprinting towards the dungeons. Running through the rather empty corridors he saw the snow which coated the grounds. His breath came out in puffs as he urged himself to move faster. He stopped when something caught his eye. You. Standing out in the snow, looking at the sky with a smile.

Moving towards you, he conjured up a snowball and threw it on your back. Your eyes widened in shock as you jumped, looking towards him.

“What now James?” you snapped.

He conjured up yet another ball and threw it at you. Your eyes grew larger and you glared at him.

“I wanted to say something,” he said as you conjured up a ball and threw it at him in response. He hissed at the icy sensation.

“Then say it.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” he said, throwing a snowball at you as your teeth clattered at the sensation. You threw a snowball in return, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Then stop acting as you do.”

He threw yet another ball at you.

“You make me act like that,” he stated. You threw a huge one in response.

“I make you act like an idiot?”

“Yes, you drive me crazy,” he said, throwing some snow at you as you grunted.

“Then why don’t you leave me alone?” you huffed as he threw yet another ball at you, making you cough and splutter.

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?” you asked, throwing a ball at him.

“Because I can’t leave the best thing that happened to me,” he said, making you stop. You stalked towards him and poked his chest with every word you spoke.

“I'm the best thing that happened to you? What is this? Some kind of sick prank? You don’t even like me,” you sobbed, frustrated and angry. That was how he made you feel. Everything all at once. James didn’t know how to answer you so he just took your hand away and cupped your cheek with his other one, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes fell shut as feeling his lips against yours. You grabbed his shirt pulling him closer feeling his arms tighten around your hips, sucking his bottom lip. When you pulled away you both caught your breath.

“I promise those are the truest words I’ve ever said,” he whispered, his hair messier than usual. He cradled your face, pressing his lips against your forehead. You crossed your arms.

“I still don’t like you,” you said in faux anger. James let out a teary chuckle.

“I don’t like you either,” he replied, smiling.

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV- Part 1

I've seen a lot of the memes going around, but I'm not funny enough to write that, so here's my addition to the trend :p

This is part one, because I had a lot of fun with this and want to do it more.

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Sometimes, it was odd for the residents of the Dream SMP to be reminded of the fact that the constant state of chaos that their server was in was not, in fact, reflective of every server.

"Why did we move here?" One woman in Snowchester whispers to another as the sirens go off for yet another nuke test and they duck down into their bunker.

The other shrugs. She doesn't have an answer. No one does.

Things started out all right, the people supposed. There weren't any wars, at least. Some of those who lived on the server before the Revolution could remember back far enough to tell you about the first true conflict, between Dream, the creator of their home, and TommyInnit, a sixteen-year-old who could yell shockingly loud, even for a teenager. Dream fought against Tommy and Tubbo (yet another teenager), and it seemed to all be in good fun.

Some will tell you now, though, that the signs of tension were already there, and when Wilbur Soot joined, those tensions only escalated.

One moment, things on the server were normal, the next, there was a Revolution.

"Did anyone else hear Dream shouting about 'white flags' this morning?" One person would ask their friends, and receive nods in return. "Anyone know what it's about?"

"A Revolution," one would respond. "Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are starting a new country."

"Oh," the first would hum. "How long until they get completely crushed?"

"Eh, I give 'em a week."

It was only a week, but it did not end the way anyone thought it would. Instead, L'Manburg gained its independence after TommyInnit gave up his discs once he lost a duel with Dream.

"Is the L'Manburg cabinet missing someone?"

"No, I don't think so. Anyway, did you hear that Dream just declared that Eret is to be crowned king?"

"...Can he do that?"

"He's Dream. He can do whatever he wants."

After the Revolution, when the server finally had more than one ruling faction, more than one place to live, things seemed to pick up a bit. President Soot, with Vice President Innit (VP Tommy, the people called him), ruled over L'Manburg, and called it a place of freedom. When word spread to other servers, people came to see for themselves.

And often, they stayed.

It was peaceful, for a while.

"President Soot announced he's holding an election," one man said to his wife one day.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Said it was for democracy." The man snorted. "He and Innit are the only party running, though. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"Darling, I know you're still salty about losing the war, but there's no reason to talk bad about a child," his wife said.

The man wrinkled his nose. "Still."

It was peaceful during the campaign.

For a while.

Then, though, Quackity announced that he was running for president, with GeorgeNotFound, best friend of Dream himself, as his running mate.

"This feels like a sitcom," one girl says as she watches the debate reruns with her friends.

"At least it's entertaining," her friend replies, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

And, for the people of the Dream SMP, from both L'Manburg and the Greater SMP, it was entertaining.

Until the election results came in, Schlatt was declared the winner, and President Soot and VP Tommy were banished.

"Dude, dude!" One teen says to their friends, running up to meet them on the Prime Path.

"What is it?"

"I just saw Technoblade join the server!"

The arrival of the Blood God shifted something in the people of the Dream SMP. When he joined Pogtopia, the rebellion being led by the two ex-leaders of the country, the people felt something settle within themselves.

All of a sudden, choosing sides wasn't as simple as where you live.

It was what you care about.

As the son of the ex-president burned down the old flag, the people of the Dream SMP, of (L')Manburg and of the Greater SMP, realized suddenly that they had to make a choice.

Without even wanting to, without doing anything to deserve it, they would have to fight.

Some people went to Pogtopia, some stayed in Manburg, some in the Greater SMP. Those in the latter two stayed where they were because they wanted to stay out of it.

It didn't change anything, in the end.

In Manburg, they watched their president (Emperor) fall further and further into alcohol, yelling at his cabinet and talking of expanding into territory that they had no right to.

In the Greater SMP, murmurs of King Eret's attempts to assist the Pogtopia rebels filled the alleyways.

In Pogtopia, people sat and watched the decline of the man that they had all once believed in. As Wilbur Soot slowly devolved until he was no longer recognizable as the man who had once led people to freedom, the residents of Pogtopia ate potatoes farmed by a man famous for his bloodlust and pretended that they were sleeping somewhere warm.

The day of the Manburg Festival, though, things felt better. Other than ex-president Soot and ex-VP Tommy (Wilbur and Tommy, the two insisted. No one listened), everyone, even the rebels in Pogtopia, were invited to attend. The people wandered through the stalls playing games, watching as Soot's son attempted (in vain) to drown Technoblade, buying food, and chatting with people from other factions, friends and family that they hadn't spoken to in weeks.

When the time came for the speeches, before the true festivities were set to begin, everyone was feeling good about the day. People congratulated Secretary Tubbo for a successful event, and offered him small words of encouragement for his speech coming up. The teenager would grin at all who spoke to him, and looked (rightfully) proud of how well he organized and decorated the festival.

Secretary Tubbo gave his speech, and people clapped, and then fell silent as President (Emperor) Schlatt laughed, asked for his Vice-President's assistance, and encased the teenager in a cage of concrete.

And then he called Technoblade to the stage.

And then, in front of the people of the Dream SMP, a teenager was executed in a spray of color that shot toward the sky.

Fireworks rained down on the people in the stands, then, and, regardless of where they were from, the people of the Dream SMP ran.

The Pogtopia ranks grew that day, and a nineteen-year-old who claimed to be a doctor without showing any credentials forced four other people to help her heal VP Tommy after he fought Technoblade in a pit, egged on by a man who once might have called himself his brother.

"How is this kid not dead yet?" One of the helpers asked, looking at the unconscious teenager's face.

"Pure spite?"

The first hummed. "Sounds about right."

One day, a bit after the festival, the people of Pogtopia woke to find Vice President Quackity walking through the ravine as if he owned the place.

One resident was noted to rub his eyes, blink three times, and then say, "It's too early for this shit," before heading back to bed.

A surprising number of people followed his lead.

Finally, the day of November 16th came, when Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit vowed to take their country back.

"I heard President Soot is planning to blow up L'Manburg," one Pogtopian woman mentioned to her friend as they suited up and prepared to fight, as they had signed up to be part of the forces.

"That's stupid," her friend replied.

"Bet you ten diamonds he blows something up."

"Fine."

As the country of L'Manburg blew sky-high, one woman was seen following another, screaming that she wanted her diamonds.

When Pogtopia won the war, the forces from both sides sat outside of the remains of the van as President Soot, VP Tommy, Secretary Tubbo, Dream, Technoblade, and many more, all piled inside to confront Emperor Schlatt.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, and Dream announced to the crowd that Schlatt was dead.

There was no time for the news to sink in, as they played hot potato with the presidency, going from VP Tommy to Wilbur Soot to Secretary Tubbo.

"President Soot is leaving, do you see that?"

"Probably going to the river to celebrate the win, if you know what I mean."

"Literally shut up. Never speak again. I hate you."

As the newly-inaugurated President Tubbo finished his speech, the people felt a wave of relief wash over them. Maybe the server could finally be peaceful once more.

Then, there was the tell-tale hiss of explosives under their feet, and the people ran as the ground beneath them fell away.

Stories of what happened next are conflicting, to say the least.

Words of President Soot dying in the explosion, of him turning the blade on himself, of another man killing him.

"He had wings," people who saw the man said. "Blonde hair, a green hat and robes. He stabbed Soot with the guy's own sword."

Technoblade apparently gave an incredible speech, and anyone who was there to witness it lamented that they hadn't recorded it.

Then, two Withers flew through the sky, and blood ran down the newly-exposed stones, and people who had never experienced death on the server before finally knew what it was like to die.

Afterward, though, when the anarchist had fled and the ex-President lay dead, President Tubbo, with VP Tommy by his side, stood and addressed the people, and made promises of a brighter future, and the hope and determination in his eyes was enough for the people to hope that maybe he was right.

("Whoa, cool wings, dude," a resident of L'Manburg said to their newest neighbor, a man in green with wings, burned across all the feathers, sprouting from his back. "Wait, what happened to them?"

"Oh, I was protecting my son from the explosion," the new resident replied.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is your son all right at least?"

"No, he died just a few minutes afterward. His last life, too." The man sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he probably deserved it."

A beat. "What did he do?"

"Well, you may have heard of him. Wilbur Soot? He was the president here before Schlatt, I believe."

"...Holy shit, you're the bird man that killed President Soot!"

"Yeah, mate, that's me."

"...He was your son?"

"...Yeah."

"...What the fuck is wrong with your family?")

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts. 

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Open your eyes [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Title: Open your eyes Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female!Reader Word count: 5.8k Published: 23 May 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: My first Bucky fic, so go easy on me :D Warnings: Stabbing, shooting, injury, typical avengers stuff Summary: It’s been over two years since you met Bucky and slowly but steadily you grew closer to each other to the point where you started developing feelings for him. It seemed you were on the right path to maybe establish more than a friendship, but that was until he decided to push you away without an explanation.

Marvel Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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You were running across the metal bridge of the submarine, trying to get to the engine room when you caught sight of a Hydra agent. You could have left him; you could have shot him. Either way you could have just followed the order you have been given and head to the engine room. But it was boring and at times you found recklessness more fun than to just follow orders that didn't satisfy your playful needs. As though you were a cat, you jumped from the bridge lending on the lower level, barely causing any sound that would be out of the ordinary. A proud smile appeared on your face as you sneaked up behind the man and tapped his shoulder. He turned around in a quick movement, gun pointing right at your chest.

"Well, hello pretty boy," you smirked, your tone inviting and flirtatious, causing the man to smile at you as though he lost focus of his mission. "It's a shame that you have to leave so soon," you chuckled, a devilish tone to your voice. His eyes widened as you grabbed his gun, pointed it upwards and stabbed your knife into his flash, a silent scream escaping his lips, before his body landed on the floor.

"Is this really necessary," Bucky appeared on the deck above you, jumping down to your level as he rolled his eyes.

"Is the big Bucky Barnes jealous?" You snickered. You knew he would never admit it, but you were more than just a fellow colleague of some sort.

"No?" He replied, though it was more of a question than a stern statement. "I just don't think all these little games of yours are unnecessary," he added quickly, trying to change the subject as he always did.

"Come on, Barnes, let me have fun," you groaned. "I like to play with my toys," you offered him a mischievous smile as you stepped closer to him, your chest flush against his. You felt his heartbeat quicken, his breathing turning shallow as your lips grazed across his. His light blue eyes usually held kindness behind them, but as a darker shade took over, you could feel his lust surface. "You could be one of them if you didn't play hard to get," you bit on your bottom lip as you jabbed your knife under his arm right into the man's stomach behind him. "I would treat you better though," you chuckled as you stepped back, swiftly pulling your knife out of the man. Bucky looked over his shoulder, his attacker lying across the metal floor. "You're welcome," you winked at him as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, but you didn't miss the tiny smile in the corner of his lips and the barely visible pink tint spreading across his cheeks.

"You know you could do all this without being too dramatic, right?" He asked, heaving a heavy sigh.

"What would be the fun in that?" You laughed, leaving the man behind, and heading towards the engine room.

It took you a couple of bruises and scrapes to get through the heavily protected area, but with Bucky's help you finally found yourself surrounded by the submarine's engines. "We are here, what now?" Holding onto your earpiece, you waited for a reply from someone who understood physics more than you did.

"There are two wheels, one on each engine," you heard Tony's voice and you started looking for the objects, walking around the gigantic metal machines surrounding you. "They look like circles," he added, earning a loud groan from you.

"Just because I don't understand engines, it doesn't mean I'm stupid, old man," you huffed, a silent chuckle leaving Bucky's lungs. "Do you think something's funny?" Your head shot back around; a deadly gaze directed at the man.

"Considering you have walked past the wheels twice already—" he snickered without finishing his sentence as he watched your face turn confused before a sharp exhale left your lungs.

"I hate both of you," you groaned as you stomped back towards one of the wheels, whilst Bucky grabbed the other one. As hard as you tried, yours didn't even move an inch, and whilst Bucky had his vibranium arm, even he was struggling with the jammed object. "You can barely turn it with your god-like powers, how am I supposed to move it?" You huffed as you watched him struggle. "Can't we just blow it up?" You asked somewhat trying to joke around, but partially being serious.

"No!" You heard Rogers' panicked voice. "No smashing, no blowing, nothing that could cause bigger damage," he instructed you in a firm tone.

"Fine!" You huffed. "You are boring," whining, you finally concentrated back on the wheels, but it didn't want to budge.

"Move," Bucky said as he stepped beside you and peeled your hands off the wheel.

"What a gentleman," you snickered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There are a couple of other things in my room you could help out with," you chuckled as a loud, throaty groan left his lungs. It was a mystery if the sound was caused by your words, the hard work he was putting into moving the wheel or both for that matter. But either way, you loved riling him up.

"We are good," Bucky spoke in his earpiece as the submarine started moving again, causing you to unsteadily stumble back, before Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and caught you. His gaze fell on you, watching you intensely, almost as though he was studying you. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," you replied with an innocent expression. "As far as I'm concerned you are the one holding me," your gaze turned to his arm, still wrapped around you strongly. As much as you wished to smile, you had to stop your facial muscles from forming a smile and giving you away. He quickly let go of you and heaved a heavy sigh.

"There's always a double meaning to your sentences, always telling me suggestive things, always flirting with me," he exhaled sharply.

"I thought I made myself very obvious," you chuckled, trying to mask how awkward you felt having to say what you felt out loud. "I like you, Barnes," his eyes widened at your words, but he quickly composed himself, as though a part of him already knew it.

"You can't keep thinking about things like this when we are busy trying to just survive missions after missions," his tone was commanding as if he was telling you to stop your feelings at all costs, but his gaze seemed different. It was soft and caring, the complete opposite of his words.

"The world is always in a war, it's inevitable. And even if I tried, I would not be able to just put a stop to my feelings. You know damn well that's not how it works," you scoffed.

"Well, you have to learn then. I'm over 100 years old, I could be your grandfather," he argued, earning a deep frown from you.

"James Buchanan Barnes, are you trying to make up excuses?" You asked as you folded your arms in front of your chest. "Because it sounds like you are trying to convince yourself why you shouldn't have feelings for me."

"I don't have time for this little game of yours," he replied sternly as he started heading back to the control room. You pulled a face, grimacing at the man, sulking in a child-like manner. "Just because I don't see you, it doesn't mean I don't know about the faces you make," he let out a silent chuckle, earning a confused look from you.

"God, you freak me out sometimes," you huffed as you followed in his steps.

"Can you two please stop flirting and get back?" Stark spoke up in your earpiece, earning an annoyed huff from you. Silently, you both headed to the upper deck to meet the rest of the crew, finally getting rid of Hydra on the ship, and stopping them from taking over the submarine.

It took another 5 hours for you to get back to the compound, but when you finally did, you dropped down on the couch in the lounge, exhaling deeply, feeling your body relax on the soft sofa.

"Some space would be nice," Natasha spoke standing beside the couch with a small smile and a questioningly raised brow.

"Just so you see how generous I can be," you smirked proudly and sat up, offering her the other side of the sofa.

"Very much so," she chuckled, but it quickly died down as Tony asked for your attention.

As usual, he talked about the efficiency and effectiveness of the mission and team performance and by the time he finished you were about to take a nap on Natasha's shoulder, drifting into a short slumber. But you couldn't sleep just yet as you felt her shoulder move, silently shaking you awake. You offered her a deadly gaze, before you realised everyone was already gone.

"Oh, we're done?" You asked as you looked around and stretched your back, standing up from the sofa. Natasha nodded in response and ushered you to head to your room, suggesting you didn't look too well which earned a grimace from you.

You attempted to rest and try to finally have a good night sleep, but unfortunately after hours of rolling and groaning you gave in. However you tried, you just couldn't get yourself to sleep and it left you frustrated. You wished to be able to control your mind and forget about certain things whenever you wanted, but unfortunately you couldn't do that, and it always left you with one particular person on your mind.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You were wary of him at the beginning, he was the Winter soldier after all, and you have heard and seen what he was capable of. But the trust Steve put in his friend pushed you to give him a chance too and you never regretted it. When you finally got closer to him and he opened up to you, talking about his past, you couldn't possibly imagine how he could keep himself in one piece. The pain, the trauma, the memories that haunted him scared you, even though you weren't the one living them all over again.

But somewhere along the line, you fell for him. You tried to spend more time with him and at first, he seemed interested, you were there for each other whenever in need, but something has changed. That night played in your head over and over again, hoping to understand what went wrong, but you couldn't find the solution.

You were seated on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he placed his head on your lap. Caressing his hair gently, playing with his long locks always soothed his worries and you hoped he would feel better. Sometimes you weren't sure how to make him feel better, so you did what you always did, listened to him.

"I— I can just hear their screams, the last terrified look in their eyes, the realisation that— that they are about to die," his voice was shaking as he stumbled across his words. You ran your fingers across his hair, removing the escaped locks from his face. "All these memories are coming back, and I just— I just don't know what to do," a heavy sigh left his lungs, as though trying to get rid of all the horrible memories.

"It's not your fault, you are not responsible for it. You weren't in your right mind, Bucky, they were controlling you" you tried to sooth his worries, but it didn't seem to work. He shook his head, another throaty sigh escaping his lips.

"But it was me. Regardless of not being in control of my own mind and body, it was still me," he groaned as sat up, looking into your eyes. Placing a hand on his cheek, you caressed his stubbly face, hoping it would calm him down. He tilted his head into your palm, enjoying the feel of your warm touch, but then he turned away and abruptly stood up.

"Hey, are you okay?" You asked as you stood up from the bed and walked up behind him, placing your hands on each of his shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly.

"I think you should leave," he spoke, but his gaze didn't meet yours again. He avoided looking at you and even though you wanted to object, you understood he needed space.

However, that space was standing between you for the past 3 months. You were understanding and supportive, knowing of his past it was inevitable that he needed to think things through, but you were tired of waiting. It's been 2 years since you fell for the man and it didn't help that he was always close to you physically, but never enough to be able to touch him mentally. You knew he wasn't indifferent towards you, there was an invisible connection between the two of you, but he clearly avoided you and paused whatever was going on before he decided to keep his distance. You tried to keep your cool and act as though it didn't affect you, but as time passed, it started to become hard to put on a brave face.

Shaking your head, trying to get rid of your thoughts, you jumped out from your bed. Attempting to cool yourself down, you headed to the kitchen to grab something to drink, your throat feeling as though it was covered in cotton.

"Can't sleep?" Rogers' spoke as he stepped inside the kitchen, watching you take out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Not really. I'm guessing you are struggling too," you raised a brow, earning a nod from the man.

"I'm glad we can't sleep. I meant to talk to you," he spoke as you took a quick chug of your water, a questioning expression painted across your face.

"What about?" You asked with a deep frown. It wasn't often that Steve and you had anything to talk about unless it was to do with a mission. "If you plan to scold me for my behaviour today, just save it," you added, already prepared for his nagging.

"Actually, it's not about that. It's more of a personal matter," he replied as he took a seat at the dining table, pulling out the chair beside him to offer you a place to sit. You furrowed at the subject matter; personal subjects weren't your thing after all.

"What did I do?" You asked cautiously, earning a silent chuckle from Steve.

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you about Bucky," he spoke as your eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not blind, none of us are and your little conversation today didn't go unnoticed," he pointed at his ear. You felt your cheeks warm up as you realised, they have all heard your confession. Scrunching your nose, you awkwardly cleared your throat and whispered an apology. "No, no, don't apologise, please, it's fine. But it made me want to talk to you even more."

"I know you are Bucky's best friend, but I don't think we should have this discussion," you chuckled awkwardly, uncertain of how to react.

"I agree and I don't want to go into details. He is a very good friend of mine and it's not my place to talk about him with you, but I thought it would be important to tell you that since you have been around, he has changed. I know he doesn't show it well, but he cares for you. He just needs time to understand himself and you and the situation you are in," he explained with a soft smile.

"Do you think I don't know? I see how he looks at me, I see how he behaves around me. The little things that he does whenever I'm in need of help. But I can't possibly do anything when your friend makes up the stupidest excuses to suppress his feelings and pushes me away," you shook your head in response.

"Just give him time. He will come around. There's a limit to how long he can lie to himself," he attempted to encourage you.

"Look, I can't possibly understand what he has been through, but I can only hope he gets it together, because I'm running out of options," you pursed your lips in a humorous manner to lighten the mood as you stood up from your chair. "Two years, it's been two years, Cap," you chuckled darkly. "At this point, even a rejection is better than tiptoeing around our situation."

"Yes, I understand," he offered you a consoling smile. "Go, try to take some rest."

"Well, I wish I could," you smiled as you headed towards the exit. "Have a good night, Cap."

Another week passed and there was no progress in your situation. You caught Bucky's eyes on you, but each time your gaze met, he abruptly turned away. It felt as though you had tried everything to get close to him once again, but the man was stubborn and you were out of ideas. You were on the verge of giving up. Wanting to talk to him, you headed towards his room to tell him that you were done, and you understood that you were probably seeing things and maybe misinterpreting your situation, but before you could have reached his room, Stark stopped you.

"I need you," he said, grabbing your arm and fairly forcefully dragged you across the compound.

"You know, I could just follow you, right?" You asked with a deep frown as he finally let go of your arm and you continued in his steps, heading to the lounge.

As you arrived, Nat and Steve were already seated on a couch, whilst Barton sat at the table, waiting for Tony and you. Before you could even take a seat, Stark has already started explaining your mission against another Hydra hideout. According to his resources and F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s intel, it seemed it was only a small warehouse where they exchanged weapons and since the mission was a rather small one, not all Avengers were needed.

Within an hour you have already discussed the tactics and you were on your way to the warehouse not far from Texas. Taking an old S.H.I.E.L.D. jet that Tony tweaked up, you have arrived at the abandoned area within a couple of hours. Steve and Nat went straight for the entrance, whilst you and Barton used the backdoor, closing off any escape route according to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

But as you stepped inside the building, it became clear that the tactic you have discussed and the blueprint F.R.I.D.A.Y. showed has not been updated. "Is it just us or have you found yourself in a completely different part of the building too?" You asked Steve and Natasha through the earpiece as you looked around, realising nothing was even remotely similar to your expectations.

"Same here," Natasha replied with a heavy tone.

"Oh well, we like a good improvisation," you chuckled silently. "Let's get the party started."

"Stay aware," Rogers warned you, knowing how reckless you were at times.

"Pfft, yes boss," you replied with a grin and even though you couldn't see it, he shook his head.

Barton and you separated, each of you inspecting a different area of the building with all kinds of metal boxes hiding thousands of weapons in them. As you headed towards the back of the building, you heard gunshots from not far away and you started running in the direction of the noise.

"Which one of you was that?" You asked, but for a second no reply came.

"It was me, but it's all good now. Easy targets," Barton replied in a smug tone.

"Don't get cocky," Steve replied as you headed back in your direction.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled silently. You shook your head at the conversation, their bickering always making your mood a little lighter, a little happier.

As you continued to a segregated area, you heard the rumbling sound of a machine. Walking through the room, you held your gun up, ready to fire, but there wasn't a soul around, only a dozen desks. Arriving next to the computer on top of a desk connected to a large, old looking machine, you touched the seat in front of it, it's leather still radiating heat. It was enough information for you to know that someone was close by.

You didn't need more time to find out you weren't alone as the sound of a gunshot shook the room, the bullet grazing your face. You immediately ducked and jumped behind another desk as your opponents started shouting at you vigorously. Beside the table you peaked out to look at the size of your enemy as you caught 3 men, each hiding behind a table just like you did. Adjusting the gun in your hand, you turned it toward your first target, shooting him on the chest as he fell back with a loud scream.

Your next target was farther, but it didn't stop you from shooting him on the shoulder and his stomach. However, the third man was relentlessly shooting at you and all around the room not even trying to spare his bullets, so you hid back behind the table.

"Maniac," you whispered.

"Are you alright?" You heard Natasha's voice through your ear.

"Yep, I just have a mental-case on my hand," you replied as you started shooting back, hitting him right across the chest as he fell back, gasping for air. When everything turned silent, you could only hear the rumbling of the machines again. Standing up from behind the table you headed to the 3 men, gun in hand, ready to shoot if any of them were alive, but they were laying on the floor, limbs spread out in all kinds of directions, no sign of survival. You didn't think twice before you headed back to the computer and took out a USB stick to copy the files. However, as you waited for the process to finish, you heard a loud groan. Turning around in a swift movement you saw one of the men raising his gun at you, so you shot. But before your bullet could reach him, he fired his weapon, burning a whole straight in your abdomen, the pain forcing you on your knees as a silent cry left your lungs.

"Fuck," you swore as you held onto the side of the desk to assist you in standing up, whilst your other hand was trying to apply pressure on the wound, stopping you from bleeding out.

"That didn't sound good," you heard Steve's voice.

"No way, captain obvious," you groaned as you pulled out the USB stick, shoving it into your pocket and grabbed your gun, throwing its strap over your shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked, ignoring your previous comment.

"Been worse," you replied, attempting to hide the pain in your voice.

Trying to balance yourself against the wall, you headed towards the exit, but each step seemed heavier, more difficult to take. Another room and another room followed, and it felt as though the exit was running away from you. Stopping in one of the rooms, you slid down on the wall and took a seat on the floor, feeling like you didn't have energy anymore, not even to take another step further.

The pain was unbearable, worse than any other injuries you've ever experienced before. You've been shot before, but it was always somewhat numbing when you sat down to take a breather, but as you stayed still leaning against the wall, the pain just increased. Closing your eyes, you tried to think of happy thoughts. The first time you met the Avengers, feeling as though you found a new family, the first time you met Bucky, his child-like smile painted across his face as he introduced himself, though you've heard of him already. There were many happy thoughts running through your head as you slipped in and out of consciousness. You could hear someone's voice, but you weren't sure if it was through your earpiece or if someone was beside you, but it didn't matter anymore. It was tiresome to stay awake, so regardless of the voices telling you to open your eyes, you shifted into a deep slumber.

"You know, I wouldn't mind if you woke up already," you heard a voice, but you couldn't identify it nor could you see the person. It remained dark and somewhat scary where you were. It wasn't often that you felt terrified, but all your efforts to open your eyes seemed fruitless. The steady beeping of a machine beside you and the voice you heard seemed familiar, a cold feeling around your hand sending shivers through your body. You could hear your own groan, but it felt as though the voice didn't belong to you.

"You're safe! Come on, open those beautiful eyes," the voice tried to encourage you. "You can do it, I know you can. Just open them."

Another loud groan left your lungs as you fought hard against the darkness, before your eyes fluttered open, the bright lights above you burning your vision. As if your visitor could sense your discomfort, they dimmed the light as you felt the cold sensation disappear from your hand.

"Do me a favour and open those pretty eyes, okay?" He pleaded with you, his voice sounding familiar, his tone holding a great deal of worry. It took you a good few moments to adjust your vision to your surroundings, before you could force yourself to look around. Without a second glance you recognised the hospital wing of the compound, before your gaze fell on Bucky's scruffy face, clearly avoiding his razors lately.

"Hey," you wanted to greet him, but your voice was barely a whisper, your throat burning from the dry sensation.

"Wait, here," he stood up to offer you a glass of water and he gave you the end of the straw. Chucking it down, trying to regain moisture in your throat, you almost choked on the liquid. "Careful," he warned you as he took the glass from you. Luckily coughing up the liquid seemed to do the trick and within seconds you felt better.

"Thank you," you tried to smile, but it quickly disappeared as you attempted to sit up and a horrible pain shot through your stomach, making you cry out in pain. Bucky placed an arm behind your back and helped you into a seated position, watching as you squeezed your teeth tight, not to let out a sound. He shook his head disapprovingly and that's when you realised the dark circles under his eyes, the deep frown between his brows as if they were permanently stuck there and his lips chapped from dehydration. "You look awful," you snickered, but the pain in your stomach quickly put an end to it.

"Not worse than you," he replied with a soft smile, the wrinkles between his brows started to slowly flatten.

"That I believe," you nodded, feeling as bad as you possibly looked. "How did I end up here? Last time I checked I was in the warehouse," you asked with a humorous tone, but Bucky's face quickly turned concerned.

"It's not funny. They found you unconscious and they brought you back. You've been out for days. You were covered in blood, in and out of consciousness. How could you be so reckless to get shot?" He scolded you and for once you felt guilty.

"I know, I could have jeopardised the mission," you added with a heavy sigh.

"What?" He asked with a stunned expression, furrowing at your words. "Who cares about the mission? You could have gotten yourself killed," he raised his voice, filled with concern and anger. You've never seen so many emotions from him nor has he ever raised his voice with you.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, another rush of guilt taking over you as you let your head fall forward. It wasn't your intention to get shot after all, it just happened, because once again you were reckless and didn't pay attention to the details.

"I'm just glad you are okay," he added as he sat down beside you.

"Oh, were you worried about me?" You chuckled, trying to lift his tense mood.

"Yes, I was," he stated firmly, concern clearly painted across his face.

"Is it a friendly worry," you asked with a mischievous smile, "or it's an 'I almost lost the love of my life' worry?" You snickered playfully.

"It's an 'I'm going to murder you next time if you try something like this' kind of worry," he huffed, earning a heartfelt laughter from you, but it quickly disappeared as the pain shot through your stomach, as though someone stabbed you. "Stop playing around, can't you just be serious once?" He groaned, your recklessness playing with his nerves.

"You made me laugh, so don't nag me," you pulled a face, an annoyed grimace which earned a disapproving look from the man as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. "If I knew I needed to get myself almost killed to get your attention, I would have done it earlier," you replied with a humorous tone, but with a straight face, trying to lift the mood once again. Of course, you knew it could have gotten you killed, and you were glad that you were alive and fairly well, but it was easier to joke around than to stay serious.

Bucky shot up from his chair and started walking up and down in front of your bed. "You know it could have ended worse, right?" He asked with a stern look and you nodded in response, this time stopping yourself from trying to joke around. "You could have died," you weren't sure where he was going with it, but from the grave and solemn emotions across his face, you knew he was very serious. "What if you died, huh? You wouldn't be joking around now; you would be six feet under the ground. Would that be funny?" He asked, almost as though he was demanding an answer.

"No, it wouldn't, and I don't want to die obviously. I just didn't want to see you so worried so I thought it would be better if I joked around and you would be less— I don't even know, tense I guess," you huffed as you played with your fingers in your lap nervously. Bucky heaved a heavy sigh as he sat down in the chair beside you and placed his elbows on the edge of your bed, watching you intently. He lifted your hand and leaned his forehead against your knuckles as he closed his eyes, a comforting silence falling between the two of you. "I'm sorry," you apologised again, this time sincerely. You never wanted to make him so worried, let alone see him this concerned. He shook his head, but he didn't open his eyes.

"I was worried because you were dying, but that wasn't the only reason," a heavy sigh left his lungs as he lifted his head and kissed your knuckles, his words leaving you in confusion. His gaze fell on you, watching and studying you as though he was trying to read you. "I was worried because I thought I would lose you before I could have even told you how I felt. I was worried because all this time I have been pushing you away instead of giving us a chance and I thought I would never be able to tell you this. I honestly thought I was about to lose you and it was eating me up from the inside," you took your hand from his and placed it on his cheek, caressing his stubble as he placed his hand on yours, leaning into your touch. "When I heard your voice and watched you fighting to wake up, it felt like I got a second chance with you."

"And what about all your excuses? You are older, you are broken, your mind is not there. What about all of those excuses?" You raised a questioning brow, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile in the corner of your lips.

"I still think I'm older than you," he replied with a wider grin this time.

"And here we go, James Barnes is back with excuses," you huffed shaking your head as you rolled your eyes.

"I will always think like that, but it doesn't mean I love you any less," your eyes grew wide at his sudden confession, a shocked expression taking over your facial muscles.

"Lo— love me?" You asked, stumbling through your words, feeling like you were dreaming, like you were in an alternate universe, an unfamiliar scenario playing.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, a soft smile spreading across face. "Yes, I do love you."

His words once again shocked you, but as he repeated them, they started to feel more real. "Does— does that mean that– that you would like to give us a chance?" You stuttered, your own confidence betraying you.

"I would like nothing more," he smiled softly as he squeezed your hand. You watched his blue eyes, trying to understand if it was indeed reality or if you were in some sort of dream, but the genuine, loving expression across his face, his eyes holding your gaze endearingly gave you all the answers you needed.

"It took you long enough to open your eyes," you scolded him, but you couldn't mask your happiness. "So, how is it going to be? Do I have to wait for the first kiss until our first date? Sorry, I only dated people my age," you snickered playfully. He shook his head with a wide grin across his face as he stood up and leaned closer to you, hinting a small kiss on your forehead.

"There's your kiss," he chuckled as you pouted, his actions making you feel soft as though you were more than just an agent, but a woman once again.

"What about on the lips?" You asked with an awkward smile.

"You really are impatient," he replied with a scolding tone, but a cheeky smile in the corner of his lips and he did as you wished and connected his lips with yours, kissing you softly, filled with love and care. As he pulled away, he sat back in his seat, both of you beaming happily. A warm sensation rushed through your body when he held onto your hand again, leaning his face against your knuckles, his happy, worriless smile making you mirror his expression. In that moment, you were just plain happy and no one could take that away from you.

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[animated-moon]

tug of war

pairing: zhongli x gn! reader

warnings: SPOILERS FOR LIYUE’S CHAPTER OF ARCHON QUEST! reader works at bubu pharmacy, not proofread we die like real idiots 🤞🤞 i also made references to some of the liyue npc’s idle dialogues that people made into memes because it was too tempting not to

word count: 1.1k

a/n: i lowkey hate it but i guess we all just have to learn to adapt

☆。*。☆。

The almighty archon Rex Lapis has never lost before. Never once has he given in to the enemy’s demands, no matter who or what was at risk, and never once has he cowered to someone in battle, no matter how strong the enemy.

That was, until you came along.

“Hey! What are you doing out in Jueyun Karst all alone? It’s dangerous, sir!” He turns around, seeing a small frame running towards him. He’d just finished fending off a group of hilichurls, as per the Traveller’s request. He’d gotten a few scratches and part of his neat suit was torn. Sometimes, he forgot that he wasn't the unbeatable Morax anymore.

“Oh? You’re that new hot topic in Liyue, aren’t you?” He nodded, tucking his spear away.

“My name is Zhongli, consultant of the Wangsheng funeral parlour. A pleasure to meet you…” You chirped out your name, and he took a mental note of it. He’s heard your name around before, since you worked part time at Bubu pharmacy. He recalls that Baizhu was pretty fond of you.

“We should patch you up, Mr Zhongli. I happen to have some herbs that can numb the wounds for a bit. Please stay still while I apply them onto your arm,” you said, taking his arm gently as if he were made out of porcelain. He’d barely felt your hands on his skin before you clapped your hands ceremoniously.

“All done. Make sure to be more careful in the future, sir!” Before he could state his thanks, you’d run off, leaving the god speechless and charmed.

“Hey, Li!” Your voice stood out to him amongst the sea of chatter and exclamations. It's always been like this with you. “Wanna play tug of war?” He smiled.

“I’d never say no to a challenge,” A simple reply, like the simple man he now was.

This war between both of you started as a lighthearted game, and Zhongli found himself unwilling to let go of his end of the rope. He looked up at you, a focused gaze as you tried to knock Zhongli off his balance.

Every little motion from you was a tug of the rope, slowly pulling him closer. Even with his build, he found it difficult to pull the rope back to him. It was like his feet were planted to the ground, and his arms were only made of stone.

What is this feeling? He often asked himself, but even the almighty Lord of Geo couldn’t find an answer to his own question. When did he know to feel like this?

“Aren’t the lanterns beautiful?” You asked, taking a bite out of your cheap and tasty chop suey. Zhongli nodded, settling next to you with his grilled tiger fish. It was still hot, and he blew on it gently.

“I’m glad you took time off to hang out with me today, sir! Although you really didn’t have to,” you made a comment, and Zhongli had the smallest smile on his face.

“It’s nothing. Ms Hu let me off early today. Let’s just enjoy the lanterns.” He commented, and you hummed.

The silence was comfortable, and he glanced at you, the light from the floating lanterns reflecting off your face in a magical way. You fluttered your eyes close and clasped your hand over the other, lips moving slightly and allowing your wish to get lost amongst the beautiful lanterns.

What was it you wished about? Zhongli considered asking, but remained quiet.

“Li! Are you just letting me win?” Your voice pulled him back to reality, and he had a wide grin on his face.

“You’ve grown stronger,” he comments, and you laugh softly.

“Feel welcome to bash my ego with your geo arms.” Zhongli laughs at that, putting more strength into trying to secure himself. He wouldn’t fall. Not yet.

“Really?” You asked, eyes almost glittering. Zhongli smiled at you fondly. “They never told us these things in school,” you comment, and he shook his head.

“Not many truths of the past are conserved at all. It’s a pity not many people are as interested in history as you are,” he says, both of you strolling around the Dunyu ruins.

“Oh, do you see that?” He asks, pointing to a crossbow. “That’s-“

“The Guizhong Ballista, right?” You finished his sentence, and Zhongli looked at you, a little surprised. “I remember that you said the God of Dust, Guizhong and Cloud Retainer built it together to protect the citizens of Liyue! The traveller and you had to fix it together last time, since some treasure hoarders destroyed it.

“You remembered that? It was months ago.” Not many people bothered to remember Zhongli’s stories, after all. Not many even saw the true value in them.

“Well, it’s an interesting story, and I should be grateful that you chose to tell it to me,” you replied simply, gazing at the crossbow. Zhongli was a man of a million words, but at that moment, all the words he wanted to say seemed to be caught in his throat.

Zhongli tried again to tug on the rope, his strength not coming to him at all. Your giggles as he inched closer and closer to you was music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile again.

“Go! Pull harder while he’s not paying attention! You can do this!” Somewhere in the crowd, Childe could be seen, cheering for you. As he caught Zhongli’s eye, he snickered and mouthed two words to him.

“Down bad.”

“I like you, Zhongli.”

“Huh?” Zhongli made a sound of surprise? You… liked him? Before he let his mind wander, you tossed a pebble across the surface of the water, watching as the water rippled.

For some reason, he couldn’t remember the rest of that day. Did he say it back? How did you respond? What did you say after that?

Did it even happen? Or was it just a fragment of his imagination?

“Mr Zhongli! Go!” Hutao cheered, but Zhongli didn’t hear anything besides the bubble of laughter falling from your lips.

“Yea, I like you,” you repeated, turning to look at him. Before Zhongli could speak, you continued.

“-r passion for history.”

He pouts, tilting his head at you. Were you teasing him? Seeing the frown on his face, you laugh.

“Disappointed?”

“Hardly,” he replies, but turns away from you. Sometimes, Zhongli too could be childish.

“You’d have to say it first, Li,” you say, and Zhongli tilts his head at you again.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t like giving in,” you grin, standing up to leave Zhongli speechless yet again.

“I can never win with you, can I?” He mutters to himself, a wide smile across his face.

That was when your little competition began, he remembers. If he even tried to think that he wasn't interested in you, it’d be a lie. Within a few short months, he had become so enamoured with you that it’d hardly be fair.

Now, as he gave one last tug to his end of the rope, you grinned at him. He remembers every single time your eyes lighted up in delight, or dimmed with disappointment. He remembers every time you’d tugged on the rope, slowly knocking him off the balance he’d always known.

After everything, he finally let go of his end of the rope, falling into your arms which felt like home.

[honeyapplepi]

Parallels From Another Life

warnings: angst, fluff, soulmate stuff, mentions of death, death, injury (tried not to be too descriptive)

in game au

a/n: was in the mood to write for sapnap and got this idea. This was way angstier than i planned, and i blame the fact that i was listening to taylor swift while writing it.

sapnap x gn!reader, james x gn!reader, mason x gn!reader

italics = flashbacks

masterlist (requests are open) | part two

You were baking like you did everyday. Though it was your job to do so. You owned a bakery in the small practically abandoned town. Despite the town being broke you made a fair share of money considering you fed them with your bread.

It was almost noon in the quiet town. You had sold all the bread you were going to today, so you decided to close the bakery. It wasn’t like any new people would arrive and if the bandits arrived you wouldn’t want them to think you were open.

You were upstairs in your home, that connected to your bakery, when you heard the sound of the bakery door opening. Your fault for not locking up, but no one comes in when it’s closed. You grabbed a sword from your chest and slowly walked down the stairs. When you reached the end and saw who was at the door you sighed and put down your sword.

“Mason? Shouldn’t you be out committing banditry?,” you asked smiling at him playfully. He smiled at you while walking up to your counter.

“You know that’s not all I do, right?,” Mason asked.

“Well, how would I know. It’s all I see you do,” you said to him.

“Well, if you went on that date with me you’d know I do more than just steal,” Mason responded. Mason had been wanting a date with you for almost as long as you’d know him and every time you’d reject him.

“Maybe in another life,” you smirked at him.

“Then I can’t wait for that life,” Mason said smiling at you. You rolled your eyes before offering him some bread like you do every time he comes over.

You didn’t live in the L’Manberg or the Dream Smp since you liked to keep out of all the wars, so you lived a little bit away in a smallish forest. You were tending to your garden when you heard footsteps that you recognized as Sapnap’s.

“Hello, Sapnap,” you said smiling to yourself, but not looking up from your garden.

“Y/N!,” Sapnap said greeting you excitedly like he did every time he saw you.

“What are doing here? Shouldn’t you be off setting things on fire and killing other people’s pets,” you said finally looking towards the brunette. He smiled walking towards you as you began towards your door with a basket filled with carrots.

“What? I can’t visit my dear friend, Y/N?,” Sapnap asked taking the basket from you and carrying it inside.

“It’s not that it’s that usually when you come over you end up asking me on a date and then I always reply...

“Maybe in another life. I know, but maybe one day i’ll ask and you’ll say yes and that “in another life” becomes “in this life”,” Sapnap said finishing the sentence for you.

You smiled at him. You did truly like him as much as he liked you, but with the wars and the constant conflict, and need for leverage any relationship that was romantic wasn’t exactly worth it. Especially when the person was so involved in the conflict and could die any moment.

You had known Sir Billium and his less rich friends for years. You had known Sir Billium since you were both children and James you had met at one of Billium’s part years ago. You and James were pretty close, but didn’t hang out too much since his wife wasn’t the biggest fan of you. That being because she thought James liked you and if anything it was the other way around.

You quietly entered the small mansion you were one of the last ones and despite everyone wearing a mask you managed to recognize them. Everyone except one person who seemed out of place. Once you said your hellos to Billium he introduced you to the newcomer. His name was Karl and when you said hello he gave you a weird look like he had known you for years.

The masquerade went on as planned even when a second unexpected guest came. And everything was fine until the lights flickered off. Everyone went to hide you following close behind James not wanting to lose him in the darkness. Once the lights were back on, it was revealed that the second unexpected guest, Drew, had died.

No one seemed bothered since no one cared for the poor, in money, man. The second time the lights flickered off you did the same following James once again. Afterwards it was revealed that it was Lyaria that was presumably murdered. The pattern continued on until the only ones left were you, Oliver, Billium, James, Karl, and the butler.

You planned to go with James and Oliver when the lights went off again, but found yourself lost in the mansion. You began walking through the dark mansion stopping when you tripped over something. You tried to get a look, but couldn’t because of the dark room.

“Hello?,” you heard a faint voice that you recognized as James’s.

“James? Are you okay!,” you said kneeling down to be near him.

“Y-yeah, i’m fine,” James said lying though you didn’t know that.

“Well, we should get help. I’ll go find Billium and Karl,” you said about to get up when you felt James’s hand on yours.

“Oh,” you said realizing what James’s fate would be. You sat back down next to him not letting go of his hand. You couldn’t see anything because it was dark, but you could feel his hand on yours. The two of you stayed silent not saying anything.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered. James didn’t respond in words, but you felt him pick up your hand and place a soft kiss on your knuckles. The lights flickered back on, and he was gone.

It was late at night when you heard a knock on your door. You weren’t expecting anyone. but nonetheless you tiredly walked towards your door. Opening it you saw an injured Sapnap standing at your door. “hi,” he groaned.

“Oh, my god,” you said quickly helping sapnap inside and on your couch. You ran towards your bathroom getting what you needed to help him.

“What happened?,” You said as you hurriedly took a seat next to him and began to help him. You propped up his leg and began cleaning his injuries.

“Fight with Tommy,” Sapnap answered turning to look at you. You sighed and continued to tend to his wounds.

“You could’ve been hurt worse. You could’ve died,” you said starting to bandage him up.

“I know,” he answered softly. The two of you sat in silence even after you were done fixing him up. After you were done, you grabbed him a blanket and helped him lay down on your couch.

You sat down on the floor in front him and smiled softly. “You good, now?,” you asked. He just nodded clearly worn out from his fight.

“You gotta start being careful, because I really don’t wanna lose you,” you muttered softly as Sapnap drifted into a peaceful sleep. Well as peaceful as someone who almost died could be. You leaned in giving him a soft kiss on the forehead before walking back to your bedroom to sleep. You had always felt close to Sapnap almost as if you had known him for decades.

[ellariasand]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ♥️

Oh gosh, this is so sweet!! Thank you!

This took forever to put together, because tbh I’m overly critical of my own writing and it’s touch to look back on my work after I’ve written it, but I’m sure those of y’all who follow me will not be surprised to see most of this at all. 

Hilariously, none of these are the pieces that are particularly beloved by readers — in fact, some of them have the lowest hit/kudos counts across my entire AO3 profile. And hilariously, only one of them is explicitly a Kastle fic, which seems like the only thing I ever write anymore, lol. 

But hey, in no particular order: 

language barrier — Maya Lopez & Frank Castle, gen, rated G. This spun off my excitement from the Hawkeye finale over Christmas, and is a short little piece of Maya coming to Frank for help after being injured. Frank doesn’t speak ASL, but he can’t not help a kid in need (Frank Castle, magnet for women in distress), so he does his best to learn. I just love Maya and Frank as a friendship, and I’m proud of writing a no-dialogue story while also getting Frank’s inner voice down fairly well. It’s also the first installment in what is slowly spiraling into a Thunderbolts concept I’m working on behind the scenes — which is really just an excuse to give Frank Castle a bunch of adoptive daughters, lol. 

dead ringer — Boba Fett & Fennec Shand & Omega, gen, rated G. This was written for a Big Bang event for Book of Boba Fett, and is one of the few Star Wars fics I’ve written that isn’t some kind of modern day AU to allow me to avoid writing the nuances of sci-fi. It boils down to Boba searching for his fellow clone/sister, and there’s notes of Fennec/Boba in there, but it’s mostly a character piece for Boba, and I’m very proud of both my worldbuilding and the dialogue, particularly Fennec’s narration, since I’d never written for her before — I think this took me like, three days to finish despite being 7.5k. 

hold on — Frank Castle/Maria Castle & Frank Castle/Karen Page, rated G. This was the brainchild of a conversation with one of my besties, and also partially out of spite because I was upset that there are virtually no Punisher fics (especially not recently) that touch on Frank’s relationship with Maria beyond just her death and the days leading up to it. The conceit is that Karen finds one of Maria’s old mixtapes that Frank had kept, and the song triggers a memory for Frank, of dancing with Maria to “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips, hence the title. There’s just something about the tone of this one that I really adore, and Maria is such a fun character to write, even though I’ve only ever done it in flashback — see also my hungry heart piece from recently. She’s so feisty and full of personality, and this fic really successfully pairs her with Karen and establishes that Frank can have two loves of his life without having to shove one to the side for the other. 

a prize for rotten judgement — Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, rated G. Ah yes, my other OTP. There is virtually no content for Oberyn and Ellaria as a ship on the Internet, so I took it upon myself to come up with a hitman AU for the two of them where Ellaria’s a surgeon, and this piece sees her sewing up Oberyn’s bullet wounds on her couch. I absolutely adore Ellaria in the same way that I do Maria Castle, and the dialogue and worldbuilding in this are just spot-on to me. I don’t like Game of Thrones at all, but it’s difficult to find Oberyn content that isn’t painfully oversexualized, and nigh on impossible to find Ellaria content at all, so I’m particularly proud of this corner of fandom that I’ve created. 

tramps like us — Wanda Maximoff & Frank Castle, gen, rated G. My most recent piece, this was the result of me seeing Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and going “god, Wanda needs to sit down and have a talk with Frank because their trauma is so similar”. One of my favorite things to write is a good character piece where two people are able to just talk without much at all happening, and this is just that. I really nailed Frank’s voice here, and this piece feels cathartic for a lot of reasons, not least of which being the fact that I will always defend women in film going apeshit. Also possibly part of that Thunderbolts concept if I ever get around to it, lol. 

Honorary sixth place goes to you look like bad news (i gotta have you), which is the first in a series of fluffy Shane Walsh/Original Character fics I wrote entirely on impulse. It was my first foray into like, real, honest-to-god rom com writing, which is not something I’m normally half-decent at. But that sucker (which was initially supposed to be one chapter and turned into 16k and three chapters, oops) was so much fun and opened up an avenue for me to write easy, no pressure stories between projects if I need to blow off some steam. 

[takenyoomies]

Takeomi's "Day Off"

Title - Takeomi's "Day Off"

Rated - T

Summary - When Senju said it was his "day off", this was not what Akashi Takeomi had in mind.

Tags - Food, Movies, Wakasa Lock-picking, Swearing, Benkei Slander, Mildly OOC

Characters - Takeomi, Wakasa, Benkei, Senju, Draken(mentioned), Shinichiro(mentioned), Terano South(mentioned)

TWs - mentions of character death

Word Count - 2977

Read on AO3

The evening forecast calls for-

“Rain.”

Thunderstorms until the late evening, and it will then clear up around nine o’clock. Back to you for the local news to talk about how you can protect yourself from-

Click.

Takeomi sighed as he took another drag off of his cigarette, neatly ashing it in a black ceramic ashtray he’d found long ago in the belongings of none other than Shinichiro Sano. With his gaze affixed to the ever infinite tile ceiling, one thing crossed his mind. What was he going to do on his day away from the rest of the members of Brahman?

It wasn’t often that the scar-faced man had a rare “day off,” as Senju called them. He chuckled at the idea as he hadn’t been employed since he lost his ambitions, though all things considered, helping manage the gang members did feel like a full-time job. There was the somewhat apathetic Wakasa, who seemingly followed Senju to the ends of the earth. However, enjoyed the occasional prank. Benkei was pretty hot-headed in their quarrels. However, outside of them, he seemed to enjoy the more minor things...only to also become hot-headed about those too. Takeomi rubbed the bridge of his nose as he remembered the time they went fishing only for Benkei to pick a fight with his fishing pole for not catching him any fish. There also was Senju, his sister, who was calm for the most part until she wasn’t, and it became a game of World War between the five of them as they tried to figure out who stole the last manju from the plate in the middle of the table. And lastly, there was of course the new member of the gang, Draken, who hid mainly in the shadows and made a relatively decent hot curry.

The scar-faced man stood from the well-loved recliner, stretching his back as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “Wonder what they’re up to today…” He murmured as he opened the fridge, plucking a silver can from its place on the shelf. He turned his body to walk back towards the living room only to hear the doorbell ring. He froze in place, blinking. No one other than four people knew he lived here, and all four of those people knew it was his day off.

The bell rang again.

He pursed his lips, thinking that perhaps they would go away.

“He has to be home, and he never goes anywhere.” A deep voice stated, almost in annoyance.

“True...I don’t see the point in him going anywhere, to be honest, and it’s raining.” A tired voice replied, almost sounding bored with the situation.

Takeomi huffed, “Oh, so they think I’m a hermit?” He thought to himself, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Well...we could always use...that.” The last voice said, the doorbell ringing one more time.

“Oh! I like that idea.” The deep voice spoke excitedly.

Takeomi blinked, wondering what that meant, only to hear the telltale sound of scratching at his door. He hurriedly rushed over, unlocking the door as he quickly realized what that was.

“How many times have I told you, if I’m not answering the door, don’t get Waka to pick the lock!” He yelled in exasperation as he whipped open the door. Benkei collapsed into the genkan while Senju and Wakasa remained kneeling outside, both looking up at the semi-tired-looking man holding a beer, a cigarette between his lips.

“Oh. Hi Takeomi.” Wakasa finally spoke with a wave, his bored face showing how unaffected he was by the man in front of him.

Benkei groaned as he rose from his position on the floor, “If you would’ve answered the door, maybe we wouldn’t have had to use Waka.” He rubbed his head, “And would it kill you to open the door slower?”

“You act as though I’m some item for you to use when you get locked out…” The two-toned-haired man retorted, standing from his crouched position, patting his pants as he put away the lock-picking kit back into his bag.

The buff man clicked his tongue, “As if that’s the biggest fucking issue here.”

Takeomi sighed, looking at the group in front of him, “What are you three even doing here?” He questioned, noticing the plastic bags, “It’s my day off.”

“Well…” Senju started, standing from her position on the ground as well, “We were going to meet up at the park, but it’s raining.”

“Yeah, I wonder who did that.” Benkei huffed sarcastically, crossing his arms.

“You can’t blame me for the rain every time.” Takeomi pointed out, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

“I can, and I fucking will.”

“Regardless of if Takeomi made it rain,” Senju cut in, looking over at the several plastic bags on the concrete behind them, “Your apartment was the closest.”

Takeomi exhaled, the smoke wrapping around him like the safety he needed in that moment as he paused to think. Yes, he could refuse them entry. Unfortunately, though, that would likely just cause them to force their way in like usual. He sighed in defeat, “Alright, get in.”

Senju smiled, “Yay!” The smallest cheered, rushing into the apartment past Takeomi and Benkei.

“Wait, shit, she’s gonna get the chair!” Bekei roared in sudden realization, attempting to blow past the other man as well, only to be stopped by an arm.

“Pick up the bags and then go fight over the chair. Don’t make Waka carry everything.” Takeomi warned, only to receive a glare in return.

“You do it if you’re so concerned.” He snapped, sliding under the arm that was blocking his path inside and rushing inside, “Hey Senju, you got it last time!”

Takeomi shook his head, “Never changes.” He looked over at the plastic bags that Wakasa was beginning to gather up, “It’s always us, huh?”

“Been that way since…” Wakasa trailed off before shrugging a bit, the lollipop in his mouth shifting, “Take these, and I’ll carry the rest.”

The older man knew what he meant by that sentence and was somewhat thankful he didn’t finish it. Sometimes he wondered if that ghost would ever stop haunting the three of them. He shook the thought as he grabbed onto the two plastic bags, peering into them and noticing the sheer amount of food.

“Just...how much did all of you buy?” He questioned, the cigarette on his lips nearly dropping in astonishment.

A hum of amusement came from Wakasa’s throat, “Senju kept putting things in the basket, and Benkei...Well, you know him.”

“And you?” Takeomi questioned, only to see the two-toned-haired man pull out a bag of lollipops. The scar-faced man's lips tilted into a smile, “How predictable.”

“Please,” Wakasa began as they walked inside, Takeomi could already hear the sounds of an argument, “My simple tastes are far superior to Benkei’s ridiculous tastes in cola-flavored garbage.”

Takeomi snorted, “I didn’t know you had a candy complex.”

Wakasa rolled his eyes, “Is that even real?”

“Beats me.” Takeomi chuckled as they made their way into the living room to see a smug-looking Senju placed in the comfortable recliner and an angry Benkei gesturing.

Benkei groaned, “Like I said, you got it last time so, get up!”

Senju smiled sweetly as she settled herself into the recliner, “No, I’m comfortable.”

You could see a vein pop on the buff man’s forehead, “Oh my god, you’re so!” He attempted to piece together before growling once more.

Senju snickered, “Use your words Benkei.”

“Senju, don’t be mean to the wildlife.” Wakasa sighed, placing the bags on the coffee table.

“I am not an animal!” Benkei yelled in offense.

“Hm. Debatable.” Wakasa shrugged as he sat down on one of the pillows.

Takeomi shook his head, placing the other plastic bags onto the table, opening his beer, taking a sip, and wrinkling his nose. Warm. However, this seemed to get the attention of Benkei.

“Hey, Takeomi, if you’re having a beer, share one with the rest of us.” The bearded man complained, strolling over to him.

“Bring your own.” He breathed, waving his spare hand at him, sitting down at the table beside Wakasa, “You just were at the store.”

“If I remember correctly, you said you were going to bum one off of Takeomi.” Wakasa’s bored voice cut in, exposing the other’s plans as he opened a bag of hard candy.

“I-I did not.” Benkei huffed, crossing his arms and looking to the side.

“I clearly recall you stating, Waka, I’m gonna get a beer from Takeomi, so I don’t have to buy a six-pack! I’m so smart, haha or something of that effect.” Wakasa mimicked the burly man set before himself, popping the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing at him with it.

Takeomi hummed, “Is that right?”

“No way, I would never say that!” Benkei denied, holding his hands up in refusal.

“Senju can confirm it, probably.” Wakasa sighed, popping the sweet back in his mouth.

“Ain’t no way she heard sh-”

“I was in the other aisle. Even I heard you say it, Benkei.” Senju confirmed.

“Okay, maybe I did say that,” Benkei muttered, looking to the side, “But come on, beer is expensive!”

“And bumming it off of me makes that okay?” Takeomi asked incredulously, shaking his head.

“Yes.” Benkei grinned, only to receive a look of disapproval from the man.

Takeomi sighed, “I’d say you’re unbelievable, though this is far too in character for you.”

Benkei snorted in amusement, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Eyebrow twitching, the scar-faced man sighed once more, "If you could stop swearing in front of my sister, that'd be wonderful."

Benkei huffed, "I don't think she minds it."

"Well I-"

Senju waved an arm, interrupting the conversation, “Hey, can you pass me the sour gummy worms?” She asked, as if to ignore the on-going conversation about herself.

Wakasa sighed and looked over to Takeomi, “You’re closer.”

Takeomi stared daggers at Benkei, who shrugged with a lopsided grin. He turned towards Wakasa, “Fine, fine.” Takeomi groaned, putting his cigarette out into the ashtray, “Which bag are they in?”

Wakasa shrugged, opening a can of juice, “Probably the one with the candy.”

Takeomi pulled one of the bags forward, fishing around for the bag of sour candy. “Is this the right bag?” He questioned as he fumbled through the several different types of snacks.

“Probably.” Wakasa’s bored eyes peering over at the man, “Actually, they might be in the other other candy bag.”

Takeomi stopped his search to look up at the two-toned-haired man, “You mean to tell me you have two entire bags of candy?”

The accused party sighed, “Listen, blame Senju for that one.”

“Nuh-uh Waka, you pitched in to at least half the damage!” The light-haired girl chimed in, crossing her arms with a knowing look.

Benkei snorted as he sat down at the table, “And by half, that’d be one bag each.”

“Thank you. I can do basic math,” Wakasa replied, rolling his eyes and pulling the other bag forward. His fingers instantly pulling out the bag of sour gummy worms, much to Takeomi’s surprise.

“How did you…” Takeomi started, only to have the bag of gummy worms flung into his chest, “...Nevermind.” He breathed, standing from his place at the table and walking over to the snowy-haired girl, “Here.”

Senju grinned, “Thanks.” She spoke happily as she grabbed the package of sweets out of his hands, biting open the top with her teeth.

Takeomi sighed attempting to grab the package back from her, “Hey, you’re gonna ruin your teeth like that.”

Wrinkling her nose, Senju looked up at Takeomi, “You’re not the boss of me.” She spoke sarcastically with a slight smile, shoving a gummy worm into her awaiting mouth.

The dark-haired man raised a brow, “...And I’m assuming you forgot that sour food is sour, again.”

Senju’s face had contorted, her nose wrinkling as her lips puckered, “Shut up…” She whimpered, shoving another gummy worm into her mouth.

"You're how old?" Takeomi questioned with an amused smile, as Senju pouted.

"Worst brother ever." She huffed.

Benkei tilted his head over only to burst into laughter, “Happens every time, man.”

“You do the same when you eat spicy food.” Wakasa mentioned as he took a sip from his drink, “Remember the time we ate Draken’s hot curry? You were crying like a baby.”

Takeomi snorted as he remembered the scene, Draken had said he would make them curry since they were eating out too much, and Benkei had been the most excited about it. But, of course, this only seemed to fire up the braid-haired man more when it came to making the curry, so when it came down to them eating, he had even given Benkei an extra serving.

“Do you remember when he took the first bite?” Takeomi pondered as he walked back over to the table, Benkei groaning and placing his head on the table in embarrassment.

“Man, quit it, do you have to?” Benkei pleaded, peeking an eye up towards the man.

“Do you mean the it burns part or take me to the hospital one?” Wakasa questioned with slight amusement.

The buff man grumbled, “I’m going home. This is bullshit.”

“So you can bark, but you can’t take a bite?” Takeomi teased, grabbing his beer and taking another swig, once again scrunching his nose, “This is disgusting.”

“Then why are you still drinking it…?” Wakasa sighed in exasperation.

“Because wasting beer is a cardinal sin.” Takeomi clarified.

Benkei sat up quickly, pointing at both Takeomi and Wakasa, “You know what else a cardinal sin is? Dunking on your homies.”

The two-toned-haired man blinked, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together, and looking directly into Benkei’s eyes, “So is having an IQ of below 70, but we’re still accepting of you, Benkei.” He spoke carefully before downing the rest of his drink, “Alright, are we watching a movie?”

Benkei sat at the table, mouth agape, unsure of what to say or do, all while Takeomi and Senju snickered uncontrollably in the background.

“Sure, we can do that.” Takeomi finally spoke through his laughs, lighting a cigarette, “Though we’re not watching Jurassic Park again and making Terano South references.”

“Aw, come on!” Senju pouted.

“We could always watch Pulp Fiction?” Wakasa offered with a half-hearted shrug.

Takeomi raised a knowing brow, “You just want to say the does he look like a bitch part again, Waka.”

He sighed, “Guilty.”

“What about-” Benkei began.

“No.” Takeomi interrupted.

The burly man huffed and crossed his arms, “But I didn’t even say shit!”

“We are not watching Austin Powers.” The man with the cigarette proclaimed, shaking his head.

“...Fine.”

“What about Goodfellas?” Senju pointed out, swinging her legs from the recliner, “That’s always a favorite.”

Benkei groaned, “We’ve watched that like 20 times, though.”

Takeomi hummed, “What’s 21, though…”

“Waka can probably quote all the lines in that one, too, then.” Benkei thought out loud.

“Did you hear him last time?” Senju asked while tilting her head to the side, “He even did the voices.”

“He wasn’t here last time we watched, remember?” Takeomi pointed out, taking a hit off of his cigarette and exhaling.

“Oh, right!” Senju realized.

“Wait, you mean to tell me I missed Waka doin’ Goodfellas impressions?!” Benkei asked, looking around at the group, “Why did no one tell me!”

“You miss a lot of things when you screw around doing other things.” Wakasa pointed out as he stood, “Goodfellas it is.” He walked over to the bookcase and grabbed a VHS case for the movie.

“The real question is...did we rewind it when we watched it last time,” Senju commented as Wakasa walked over to the television set and shoved it into the VHS player.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t ha-” It was not rewound, “Goddamn it.” Takeomi huffed.

“Short intermission, I guess.” Wakasa breathed as he hit the rewind button, walking back to the table and plopping down.

The smoking man chuckled, “You know, I didn’t expect to spend my day off like this?”

“Oh?” Wakasa asked, raising a brow.

Benkei snorted, “What, did you expect to sleep all day and drink beer?”

Takeomi rolled his eyes, “No, though that sounds peaceful compared to the mess all of you seem to bring.” He huffed, inhaling the last of the cigarette and putting it out into the ashtray. The VCR clicked, signifying the tape was done rewinding. “I got it,” Takeomi stated as he stood from his seat at the table, walking towards the TV set.

“I guess it is your day off…” Senju hummed, her legs once again moving back and forth as she spoke, “But, we missed you.”

Benkei’s eye’s widened, “Shhh!! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” As he attempted to silence the small leader.

The scar-faced man’s hand stopped as it reached forward. He blinked. They missed him. He felt his heart swell in his chest as a smile spread its way onto his face.

“Hey, Takeomi...” Wakasa questioned boredly after a moment, “Tell me they didn’t take you out with just that?”

“I’m fine.” He responded, pressing play on the VCR and turning to walk towards the light switch. While the smile on his face had disappeared, the warm and fuzzy feelings had not as he switched off the lights. Making his way back to the table, he received an all-knowing look from Wakasa as he sat down.

As the previews for the movie were nearing their end, Takeomi leaned forwards towards Wakasa, attempting not to alert the other two members of the room.

“So, even you missed me?” He questioned quietly as the beginning scene started, the two-toned-haired man not entirely paying attention.

“Yeah, yeah…” the two-toned-haired man dismissed, the piece of candy in his mouth shifting against his teeth.

“Hm.” Takeomi hummed, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the tiled ceiling once more. He could vaguely hear the storm outside over the sound of Wakasa quoting the movie, Benkei’s obnoxious wheezes of laughter, and Senju’s tiny kicks against his favorite recliner that he always gave up to one of them instead to sit on the floor himself. A gentle smile once again made its way back onto his face.

Maybe it should rain more often.

[xiao-cafe]

drabble game — prompt 30

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

prompt: “is that blood?”

tags: i don’t even know how to tag this

wc: 0.8k

notes: i wrote this while at work so its kinda bad ig

You’ve always been interested in learning swordsmanship but your responsibility as the firstborn meant that you had to dedicate your life to perfecting the craft of farming. Your family owned a small farm in Springvale and for the longest time you had longed to run away but duty and filial piety kept you shackled to the fields and the proud smiles on your parents’ faces.

That was until you met him.

Night had fallen yet you were still outside, breathing in the crisp night air as you did a final sweep across the farm to make sure nothing was wrong. How could anything go wrong in such a small town anyways? You kicked a stray stone harshly, watching as it flew quite a distance before landing a top of a red hilichurl’s head.

Bone-chilling fear struck you as the monster turned to you, raising it’s torch into the air as if declaring war upon you and your crops. You barely had time to pick up your weapon of choice, a rake, before the red bastard came running at you, waving the torch around frantically. 

God forbid it set fire to the crops you tended to dutifully for months. You swung your rake with all your might, watching as the monster flew backwards, landing on its back. The torch in its hand had rolled out of its grip, setting fire to the grass where it lay. 

Amazed by your sudden strength, you let out an embarrassing screech and ran at the hilichurl with your rake, hoping to scare it off but a glance to the trees caused you to trip over your feet, falling down pathetically.

A mitachurl steps out from the shadows, swinging its axe around menacingly. You could barely hear the shout from an unfamiliar voice telling you to duck. 

The clang of metal snaps you out of your stunned state and you scramble to your feet, watching as a red-haired man fights off the monsters with his claymore. His face, however, was hidden by a mask.

The fight was over before you could make sense of it, and the man stood triumphantly over the disintegrated ashes of the monsters.

“Is that blood?” You gasp in worry, pointing at the large gash across his bicep.

A momentary silence engulfs the both of you and your face burns as your words ran through your head repeatedly, 

“Yes… It’s blood.” The man responds awkwardly. 

You let out a nervous chuckle before offering your hand to him, “I’m Y/N, thank you so much for saving me.”

The man glances between your face and your outstretched hand before reaching out to shake your hand.

“Please wait here, I’ll be back shortly with a first aid kit.” You tell him, “It may not be much but I’ll at least help you stop the bleeding!” Your words spill out your mouth as you see him make a move, about to run away before you could express your gratitude properly.

The man does not say a word and you scurry away and return in record time with a box full of various medication and bandages. You observe as he sits down reluctantly, sighing through his nose as you began to tend to his injury. Your chatter filled the silence as you rambled on about how grateful you were and how you wished you could have learned swordsmanship like him. The man remains silent throughout, disinterest emanating from him but you couldn’t care less. If it weren’t for him, you would’ve died, or even worse, your crops would’ve caught on fire.

As you finished up by bandaging his arm, you let out a quiet sigh, barely audible.

“Thank you.” The man utters, pushing himself off the ground with his uninjured arm.

You shake your head, “I should be the one thanking you.”

“You’ve thanked me enough.” He replies dryly and you catch the corner of his mouth quirk up into a smirk.

You blush heavily under his scrutiny and nod.

The red-haired man leaves but not after telling you to not tell another soul about him.

Truly, a mystery indeed.

***

A few days after your encounter with the mysterious man you had come to identify as the Darknight Hero, a package arrives at your home addressed to you.

Unwrapping it in a hurry, you almost drop it when you realise what it laid inside. 

A sword.

The courier bids you a good day and runs off before you could question him about the sender. After all, the only people who knew you were interested in swordsmanship would never give you a sword.

Picking up the note attached to the sword, you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screeching out loud.

‘Your performance with the rake was rather outstanding.

Consider this a gift of encouragement should you pursue swordsmanship.

D.’

end.

[keijislove]

Idiot: Ron Weasley x Reader

A/N: sup, im having my exams so im infrequent lmfao. Also, Weasley is MY king

'Alright darling, stay safe!' your mother pecked your forehead. 'And have fun!'

You had gotten an owl earlier that morning, from your friend and crush, Ronald Weasley, inviting you to spend the summer at the Burrow.

Since the War was finally over, you, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna and all the others had decided to repeat seventh year due to the earlier, unfavorable circumstances.

Stepping into the fireplace, you grabbed a fistful of Floo powder before speaking, 

'The Burrow!'

Green flames flashed around you as you suddenly found yourself in the Weasleys' fireplace.

Coughing, you staggered out, only to be met with a familiar red head repairing her torn textbook with Spellotape.

'Y/N!' Ginny said, shooting up from her spot to dust you off properly.

She then proceeded to squeeze you into a hug. 'You came!'

'Course I did.' you coughed again.

'MUM!' Ginny called. 'Y/N's HERE!'

In a few minutes, an elder woman with a kind face appeared in front of you.

'Y/N, darling!' Mrs Weasley hugged you. 'You must be tired, come on, up to your room. You can share with Ginny and Hermione. Go on!'

You nodded, already familiar with the layout of the house, having been there Merlin knows how many times.

As you proceeded to climb the stairs, you heard a crack as two identical boys appeared in front of you (A/N: yes, two. No Freds be dying in my fanfics).

'Can you please stop that?' you asked. 'You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

'Aww, we gave Y/N/N a heart attack!' George feigned shock.

You rolled your eyes.

'So, Y/N.' George continued.

'We've been thinking.' said Fred.

'About you.' said George.

'And your little problem.' said Fred.

'So we've decided.' said George.

'To help you with it.' finished Fred.

'Wait, wait, what?' you asked. 'What problem?'

'Oh, you know who.' George rolled his eyes.

'Voldemort?' you questioned. 'Isn't he dead?'

'Not him, you silly girl!' Fred spoke.

'Then who?' you asked.

'Won-Won.' they chorused.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter when they used the nickname Ron's ex-girlfriend had coined.

'And why, pray, is Won-Won a problem?' you giggled.

'Don't act like you aren't smitten with him.' George smirked.

'Yeah, we aren't idiots, mate.' said Fred. 'We listen, we watch, and we put it together.'

'Well I suggest you keep your theories to yourself.' you coolly said, stomping upstairs.

No sooner had you opened the door than Hermione had tackled you.

'Y/N!' she yelled. 'Merlin's sake, you're here! Did you meet Ron yet?'

'Hi Mione.' you smiled. 'No, um, I was looking for him... where is he?'

'Downstairs, in the garden.' she replied. 'He was wondering when you'd get here.'

Your cheeks flushed a little. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever.'

You ran downstairs and out the garden at top speed, accidentally bumping into a long-haired Weasley.

'Whoops, sorry Bill!' you apologised.

Bill laughed, 'It's fine, Y/N.'

You were suddenly attacked from both sides in a hug.

'Ouch, Harry, Ron, geroff me!' you squealed.

'I thought you weren't going to come!' Ron breathed.

'Yeah, he's been pacing all day.' Harry smirked causing Ron's ears to turn pink.

'Nose down, Harry.' he rolled his eyes, ears still red.

'Anyways.' you changed the subject. 'Now that there's no war and we have all the time in the world.'

'One month and a half.' George corrected.

'Yeah.' you waved off. 'Let's do something.'

'You're not hanging out with the girls?' Percy asked. 'Weren't they planning a sleepover or something?'

'Blegh.' you gagged. 'No thanks, I'd rather hang with you guys.'

Percy looked highly affronted at this blatant declaration, but didn't push it further.

'So we're playing Quidditch?' asked Charlie.

'There aren't enough people.' you pouted.

'That's okay, we can do like one beater and one chaser per team.' Harry shrugged.

'Okay.' you narrowly looked at him.

'Quidditch?' Ginny had strolled over to you. 'Can I play too?'

'No-' Ron began.

'Yes.' you firmly said.

'Well I suppose I'll be watching, then.' Hermione scowled.

'Bloody hell, how did you get here?' asked Ron, reminding you of your third year when both you and Hermione had used the time-turner to get to all your classes.

'I Apparated, Ronald.' Hermione was still sulking. 'Get on with it.'

'Alright.' said Bill. 'Fred, Y/N, Ron and Harry in one team. Fred as Beater, Y/N as Chaser, Harry as Seeker and Ron as Keeper.'

George smirked and began humming 'Weasley is our king' under his breath as Ron hurled a gnome at him.

'As for the rest of us.' Bill continued. 'Charlie, Seeker. George, Beater. I'll be  Keeper and Ginny can be Chaser.'

'If you must know.' Percy delicately said. 'I never liked Quidditch anyway.'

'We know Perce.' you grinned. 'That's why we're quiet.'

Percy scowled.

-----

The game was going well so far, your side was winning.

Well... you, Harry and Fred were anyway.

Ron made zigzags, swirls and loops but yet couldn't protect the goals.

'Wow, Ron.' Ginny remarked, throwing her next Quaffle in. 'I didn't think you would still stink at this.'

'It'd be better if he were paying attention to the game.' Harry grumbled.

'OI!' Fred yelled when Ginny aimed again. 'RON, STOP STARING AT Y/N AND PROTECT THE GOAL!'

'YEAH, WE ALL KNOW YOU FANCY HER, NOW STOP IT!' George added.

'Okay, stop it.' you snarled. 'You think this is funny, do you, joking about someone's feelings like that? Shame on you lot, honestly.'

'Hey, Y/N, they were joking.' Bill soothed.

'Save it.' you angrily threw your broom and left.

-----

You had been staring at the wall for quite sometime now.

A knock sounded on the door.

'Go away.' you called. 'Not in the mood.'

'Y/N?' asked Fred. 'Can I come in?'

'No.' you groaned, hearing the door click open.

'Mate, we were just joking.' George followed him.

'But still.' pressed Fred.

'We think.' continued George.

'That we should just ask you.' finished Fred.

'Can you stop doing that?' you asked. 'It's weird.'

'Do you or do you not fancy our brother.' they spoke together.

'Ugh.' you groaned. 'This again. FINE! Maybe I do, now what?'

'I KNEW IT!' Fred shouted. 'This is adorable.'

'And disgusting.' George made a face.

'If you tell anyone.' you warned. 'I'm cutting off your balls and feeding them to you.'

'Not a word, miss.' George grinned.

'Good.'

----

It was the last weekend before school, and all of you were partying at the Burrow.

Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, you name it, it was there.

After a particularly tipsy Fleur asked you to call her Patrick, you decided to leave and find the guys.

You bumped into a frantic redhead.

'Oh my god, Y/N I'm so sorry!' Fred guiltily said. 'I didn't mean, I swear!'

'What?' you asked.

'Well Freddie here might've told Ron your secret.' George nervously said.

'IT WAS THE FIREWHISKEY!' Fred moaned.

'WHAT?!' you screamed. 'No, no, NO!'

'And he might be looking for you right now, in the garden.' George guiltily added.

'No.' you moaned. 'I'm departing to death. Farewell, Weasleys.'

----

'So... hi.' you said when you reached the place where your crush stood.

'Y/N! Um, h-hey!' Ron awkwardly said. 'Um, someone might or might not have told me... you take a fancy to me?'

You fought the urge to scream and run. 'Erm... Well...'

'Is it true?' Ron cut off.

'Well, yes.' you admitted and looked down.

Ron didn't speak and your heart broke.

'Go on.' you shakily said, not daring to look up. 'Laugh. I dare you.'

When you looked up, Ron wasn't laughing.

Instead, he had a big grin plastered on his face.

'The bloody hell you smiling about?' you demanded.

'Y/N...' Ron began. 'You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited to hear that.'

'W-what?'

'Maybe I fancy you too?' Ron suggested.

Awkward silence.

'Wow, um.' you began. 'I s'pose we...'

'What do we do now?' asked Ron.'I guess... this is the part where we hug?'

'Yeah.' you nodded.

'Ow, Harry!' came Ginny's voice. 'Let me go, he needs to know!'

A second later, her head popped up from behind the shed.

'RON YOU IDIOT!' Ginny called.

'I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THIS!' George yelled.

'RON, MATE, MUCH AS I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE BEING THICK!' called Harry.

'I'm sorry!' Hermione yelled. 'I told these idiots not to watch!'

'But zis iz so sweet!' Fleur cooed.

'Get it, mate!' Bill yelled.

'Proud of you, Ron!' called Charlie.

'No, he's being stupid.' Percy interjected.

'Yeah mate, for once, I agree with Percy.' said Fred. 'Kiss her you idiot!'

'You.' Ron muttered. 'All of you, what the bloody hell-'

'Oh shut up.' you muttered, grabbing his face before smashing your lips onto his.

When you parted, you both had stupid grins on your faces.

‘By the way, Fred.’ you called. ‘I’m still feeding your balls to you.’