#first time i saw it i gasped “that's such a clever way to use his marks”

[talaofthevalley]

[fluffysucker]

Whisperer

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mob Au)

'Liberation comes in whatever form to save me. I hit bottom, and then the whisper comes. Your whisper in the breeze. Your whisper's what I needed. Quiet words. Soothe the hurt whisperer.'

It is written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. Part three coming soon.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

TW: Violence. Cursing. Mentios of physical abuse.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist.

Some time had passed. Not long, but enough for Bucky to gather his thoughts. He couldn't listen to you. Absolutely no. The medical report sitting on his desk was a reminder. An alert that you were always in danger. And he couldn't live like this. He couldn't live knowing a monster was taking advantage of you in every way. He had to get you out of there. He didn't know how. He wanted to plan and do it correctly so you wouldn't get hurt more. It wasn't easy. But he was never going to give up. If it cost his life, he would still do it. You mattered the most.

However, he never thought the opportunity would present itself like this.

It was the middle of the night. Your father requested your and Rumlow's presence in his office. And you went. The meeting lasted for too long, and you couldn't tell what it was even about. Midway through the meeting, you left your father and Rumlow to carry on. You stayed in your father's office. You couldn't help but smile when you noticed your father only had pictures of your mother. Not you. Not even a family picture. He loved your mother dearly, but never you. Your mother died when you were a teenager. And from then on, it felt like he was punishing you. For a mistake that hurt you just the same.

After some time, one of your husband's men came and told you that they were waiting for you in the car. You followed him down. You couldn't hide your surprise when your father told you he would be joining on the way because his car broke. You didn't believe him, but who were you to object?

The ride was silent. You could feel something wasn't right, but you didn't say anything. If something was bothering Brock, then you would be the first to know when you got home. Unfortunately, it took you a bit to notice that you weren't on your way home. You were taking another route, and suddenly, you were on a deserted road. You tried to calm down. But Brock's voice ordering the driver to stop made you more nervous. Then he ordered you to go out. And you followed right away. Brock wasn't the guy to disobey.

The three of you got out of the car to stand on the deserted road. Then you noticed the car filled with Rumlow's men who had been following you. You looked around, trying to get any idea of what you were doing here. You gasped loudly when you saw your father punch Brock in the face. Brock's laugh made you stand still in your place. He turned to your father with the most evil smile you had ever seen, and he punched him too. You moved back when the punching continued. You looked at the men standing by the car, but none of them moved. It was like only you could see what was happening. But Brock and your father kept punching at each other until they drew blood.

Then Rumlow turned to you as he wiped the blood from his mouth. You couldn't possibly understand what was happening right now. You were too scared and confused. The next thing you felt was Brock's hand slapping you. Your head turned to the other side after the impact. You yelped as Brock grabbed a handful of your hair.

"You think you can do this to me, bitch?" Despite the smile on his face, you could tell Brock was angry.

"You think you are so clever that I wouldn't know." His grip on your hair tightened as he slapped again.

"Brock, what are you talking about?" You were holding his hand, trying to get away.

"Acting stupid too, ha." He hit you, and you couldn't help but cry out.

"Don't want to talk?" He hit you again. There was no winning with Rumlow. Whether you talked back or stayed silent, he still got angrier. You learned that the hard way.

"You and Barnes." He got tired of your silence, so he told you as he continued to hit you.

"What do you mean, me and Barnes? I have nothing to do with Barnes." You said it between your tears. Somehow, that angered him more. He threw you on the rocks, which left small cuts on all your exposed skin.

"You think I don't know about your history with him?. That you spent years loving him?" Brock's words almost sent you into a heart attack. Had he known all these years? Was this why he had been treating you like this?

"That you don't sleep next to me, thinking about him." Brock hit you with his feet, causing you to scream.

"Brock, I swear nothing has happened since we got married. I only saw him when you were there." You tried to defend yourself. Yes,you still loved Bucky, but your relationship ended before the marriage.

"Is that why he had his hands all over you at the party?" If Brock saw it, then you were as good as dead.

"I swear it's not how it looked." You didn't know what you could say, but you had to save yourself.

"Shut up." Rumlow leaned down to continue his aggressive assault on you. All while your father and men watched.

Once he was done, you were in so much pain, crying loudly. You didn't know how you were going to get out this time.

"But thanks to your stupid ass. I can finally have what I want." Rumlow said as he got up to stand next to your father.

"See if you died, and it turns out Barnes was the one to kill you. The city will be ours. It's a win without war."

"Oh, and why did Barnes kill you? To get rid of you because you wouldn't leave with him."

You tried to process how someone could be so evil, but you didn't understand. And fate hated you so much to get you stuck with them. Rumlow calling out with man made you flinch. As Josh, one of his loyal men, stood behind him, your mind quickly followed up on what was about to happen.

"No. No, Brock, you don't understand." You began to beg for your life in between your tears and sobs.

"Oh, I understand. It's two birds with one stone." His evil smirk made your bruised skin crawl.

"You know what to do, Josh." Rumlow ordered the man , as he was about to leave.

"No, Brock, please." You got up quickly despite the shooting pain in your body.

"Please, Brock, don't. I will do whatever you want me to do." You were used to begging, Rumlow. To stop hitting you. Stop touching you. It was nothing new. However, this time, you were begging for your life.

He threw you one more time on the ground and moved to get in the other car. You called out for your father, screaming for him to help you. But he didn't even give you a second look. If he hated you so much, why did he even have you? To watch as another man kills you. Quite literally.

Your sobs became so loud as Josh brought his gun out, and the engine of the car started and then drove away. Tears were like falls on your face. You couldn't believe that was it. Your life was about to end. Alone, scared, and betrayed. Maybe, finally, you would have real peace.

You tried to stop crying when Josh lifted the gun to your face. You are going to die. And it hurt knowing you had achieved nothing. You spent your whole life trapped and suffering. The only time you were free was when you were with Bucky. Bucky. You wish you could warn him. You wish you could tell him you loved him. One last time.

You put your hand on your mouth to console your sobs as you prepare yourself for death. You screamed as the shots were fired from the gun.

You waited for the pain to hit. To feel the blood. To see the light. All of it. But there was nothing. You lifted your head to look at Josh. He had the gun aimed above your head. He never meant to shoot you. You looked at him, baffled. He brought the gun back to its holster and threw you a phone.

"You make one call, then destroy it." He instructed you. You can only nod.

"And don't show yourself." He continued as he looked at the road to make sure nobody was there. He looked at you one more time before he went to the car you were in.

"Thank you." You spoke weakly. He saved your life. It's the least you can do. He smiled at you as he drove off.

You took the phone off the ground with shaky hands. You opened the screen and went to the contacts. But who could you possibly call? Fortunately, you only memorised one number, and it happened to be the number of the only person who could help you.

You dialled the number you knew by heart from your dating days, hoping he hadn't changed it. You couldn't help the sob that broke out of you when his sleepy voice reached your ears.

"Bucky, help me, please."

Bucky was driving like a madman. The second he heard your crying voice on the phone, he shot out of bed. He was glad he trusted his gut and answered the unknown number. It was a matter of seconds before he was out of the house and driving to the location you sent him. He tried to keep you on the phone, but it went off. Bucky has never driven faster in his life. He needed to get to you.

The location led him to a deserted road. He didn't care what happened or how you ended up here. If you called him, that meant one thing. The situation was so bad. So he had to get you somewhere safe immediately.

Bucky saw one car parked by the side of the road and two men who looked like punks who just got out of prison. The men were standing outside the car, hovering over a girl, trying to take her with them. Bucky could hear your screaming.

Bucky didn't even care to park the car correctly. He got out, brought his gun out, and shot the men dead. No hesitation. No thought.

You turned quietly to Bucky, and despite the dim light, he could see your state. Smudged mascara. Tears stained cheeks. Bruises and marks on your face, neck, and arms. Multiple cuts on your clothes. Bucky could feel the rage running through his body. Uncontrollable anger. Bucky wanted to go on a killing spree. Hunting down those who dared to do this to you. But now wasn't the time. You needed him.

Bucky called your name softly as he moved towards you. He didn't want to disturb you anymore.

"It's just me." He tried to reassure you that he was here now.

"Bucky." You whispered his name to make sure it was really his.

"Yes, doll." The use of a unique pet name was a good call. Because only Bucky has ever called you this. It was associated with happy and comforting feelings.

And it was like the pet name stirred everything once more. You started crying again, almost falling to the ground, but this time Bucky caught you in his arms. You were crying hysterically, holding onto Bucky like he was all you had. It was true. He was all you had.

"I'm here, doll. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore. You are safe now." Bucky kept whispering sweet, comforting words to your ears as you wept and clung to him.

But he meant it. Nobody was ever going to touch you again. Even if it meant war. He didn't care. You are all that matters. And you were back in his arms.

After a bit of time, Bucky was able to get you into the passenger seat of his car. Your crying had stopped, but your sniffles filled the car. You held Bucky's hand with both of your hands, resting it on your lap. Both of you needed the simple touch. You needed to know you weren't alone. That you had someone to hold onto. And Bucky needed to feel you. He needed to make sure you were right by his side. That you were safe. He would keep you safe.

Bucky stopped the car in front of his mansion. He didn't waste any time. He got out of the car and went to your side. He opened the passenger's door and carried you bridal style. You rested your head on his chest. His heartbeats were soothing. It was strange how the second you stepped foot in his house, feelings of comfort and security engulfed you like a warm blanket. This house was filled with good memories and happy moments. Despite being in pain, being with Bucky made it easier than usual.

You failed to notice the other presence who had been following you up since you got inside until Bucky put you softly on a bed. Bucky immediately took in your unease when you saw the other man. He was quick to reassure you that it was Bruce, a friend of his who was a doctor and was here to check on you. Bucky texted Bruce to come over once you got in the car. You tried telling him that it was nothing, but he didn't bother to listen. He needed to be sure you were okay. Physically, at least.

Bucky knew he should have left the room and given you some privacy, but he just couldn't. He was already holding himself back from telling Bruce to check on you while you were in his arms. He was unbelievably desperate for you. And desperate to make sure you were safe. This is why he had to control his breathing whenever you winced or groaned in pain as Bruce was patching you. Bucky was going to make them all pay for ever hurting you.

After Bruce had finished patching you up and reassuring Bucky that you didn't need to go to the hospital, you just needed rest, Bucky led Bruce outside and came back to you right away. It was like he could read your mind. He showed you the en-suite bathroom and told you to take your time. You closed the bathroom door to be faced with the big mirror. You had looked worse before. You had been beaten up way worse before. But this time, it somehow hurt more. You didn't know if it was your father's willingness to kill you, if it was the gun pointed at your head, or if it was being alone on a deserted road in the middle of the night. Or maybe if it was all

You shook the thoughts away as you moved to turn on the water and set the temperature. Then you stripped off your clothes and threw them in the corner, and you stepped under water. It was comforting to feel the water on your bruised skin. To let the water wash out all the remains of this terrible night.

While you were taking the shower, Bucky left some of his most comfortable clothes on the bed for you. He changed his clothes into a t-shirt and sweatpants, then went to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water and some snacks. He got back upstairs, and when he couldn't hear the water running, he knocked on the door.

You smiled pathetically at yourself as you finished putting on the hoodie. It had been so long since someone had asked for permission to enter your room. You let Bucky in. The sight of you in Bucky's clothes was heartwarming. You still never managed to fit into his clothes. They always looked so big on you. And he always loved it, too. How he missed this sight. He would never forgive himself for letting this happen to you. But he was going to make it right.

Both of you sat on the coach that occupied a part of the room. You sat in silence as he forced you to eat something. You were surprised to see him hand you your favourite snack. But Bucky had always been thoughtful, especially when it came to you. He then handed you the bottle of water, which you almost chucked right away.

"Thank you." You were the first to break the silence. You didn't know if you meant for the snack and water or for everything. Bucky assured you that it was nothing.

You gathered every bit of courage you had in your body to speak your next words.

"I can leave if you want to." With all your courage, it still came out like a whisper.

"What do you mean?" Bucky didn't try to hide his confusion.

"I will find somewhere else. This is so messy. I will understand if you don't want to be involved." You tried to let your voice be strong and stop the shakiness, but failed miserably.

Bucky couldn't believe his ears. How selfless did you have to be to ask something like this? How oblivious were you to his undying love for you that you thought he wouldn't burn down the world to ashes for you? He would walk through hellfire and over oceans for you.

"Sweetheart, you aren't going anywhere." He still didn't know what happened, but from the looks of it, it wasn't good. And nowhere seemed safe enough for him other than his own house under his watch.

"If it involves you, that means it involves me as well. No matter how bad it is, you will never face it by yourself. Not anymore. I will be damned if I let you walk away again." Bucky was a wise man who learned from his mistakes, and watching you leave was his biggest regret. So he had no intention of letting you

You couldn't help but smile at him weakly but it was a genuine smile that made its way to your face. After a long day of betrayal, Bucky made you feel wanted. And you were thankful.

After putting away the stuff on a nearby table, Bucky helped you move and lay on the bed. As he was about to leave the room, thinking it was what you wanted, you grabbed his hand. He turned to look at you, and his heart almost broke. You looked so vulnerable, like a lost kid in the big park. Your eyes were finally showing their truth. Deep hurt and fear. You were scared to be alone. And Bucky understood. Without a word, he joined you in bed, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arms around you protectively. He laid a soft kiss on your forehead as a sign that he was here now.

Wearing his clothes and being in his arms, you were surrounded by Bucky. And it felt too good. It felt like a dream. Maybe Josh did kill you and ended up in heaven. Because after all you had been through, that was it. The most peaceful you had been in a long time You couldn't help but think of how you were ripped away from this to be thrown into the wild by yourself. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the possibility of losing Bucky again.

The idea was scary. More scary than before. Because now you know what life looks like without him. It was unbearable. You found yourself nuzzling closer to him as if you were trying to disappear from the world inside of him. Unknowingly to you, your thoughts came out as hot tears that Bucky felt on his neck.

"I've got you now, doll." Bucky pulled you impossibly closer to him, rubbing his hand up and down your back with soft kisses to your hair.

You finally gave up and let down your guard, admitting that you could no longer take it. Your unfair life was no longer fit for you. That here with Bucky was where you belonged.

"I missed you."

You kept your eyes closed a bit longer. Maybe you would fall asleep again. When you didn't, you opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the lights. It took your mind a moment to keep up with what happened and where you were, but the ache in your body served as a reminder. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar. It was the only thing you had ever felt for two years straight. You knew how to deal with it, how to live with it, and how to hide it.

However, this time felt different. Pain wasn't the only thing you were feeling. You didn't know how to describe it. But you felt relaxed in some ways. Maybe because that was the best night's sleep you had in a very long time. It was nice falling asleep in the arms of a man you didn't fear and spend your night afraid he might snap any minute. You fell asleep with a man who was always the only one to make you feel loved, appreciated, and, most importantly, safe. You felt safe with Bucky. A feeling that became so foreign to you. Having it back was pleasing.

It could be easy to just ravish in the comfort of these secure emotions. But you were realistic. You knew they were in for the short term. Your life would eventually catch up to you. If Brock and your father found that you were still alive, the outcome would be catastrophic.

You sat up, resting your back on the headboard, letting your mind race between the what-nows and what-ifs. Could you survive this, or was this your convalescence before death? You didn't know.

The soft knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts. You turned to the door as it opened to show Bucky, still in his home clothes. You reassured him quickly that you were already awake before he started apologising for waking you. Bucky started talking about how he prepared food if you wanted it or if you wanted to come down or just stay in bed. But you interrupted him.

"Bucky, you should know what happened last night." He was being too sweet and caring. He should know what he was getting himself into.

Bucky signed and came to sit next to you on the bed, keeping a little distance between you.

"You don't have to tell me now. Whenever you're ready." Bucky didn't care about anything other than your wellbeing.

"I think you have to know." You could feel yourself wanting to shrink away, but you had to tell him. He was at risk as well.

Before you could start telling him what happened, he spoke first.

"Just so you know. Whatever happened, whatever you say, It will change nothing. I'm neither leaving nor letting you leave. If I have to stand in front of the devil, I will do it." Bucky didn't have a problem saying it a million times. He needed you to be sure. He's got you. No matter how ugly it was.

You smiled thankfully at him. But despite being thankful, you hated how willing he was to risk it all for you because you loved him just as much as he did. You breathed heavily as you started telling him what happened.

You tried to give him as many details as you could recall. Everything from your father's call until you called him As you were talking, your voice began to shake, and your eyes were watering. You immediately felt Bucky's hand holding yours, fingers intertwined. He would draw small circles on your palm whenever it got hard to talk.

Bucky listened with full attention, not missing a thing that came out of your mouth. It was so hard to keep his anger inside, to not let emotions take over and burn down the city, but he was aware that now wasn't the right time. He needed to think straight. With all the information you filled him in with. Rumlow and Pierce knew about the both of you, and they already had a plan in motion to get rid of him. He was already in danger. However, he would keep you safe even if it cost his life.

The most important question for him was why Josh let you go and didn't listen to his boss. He needed to know if this was a trap, and both of you walked right into it. But you had a good answer. Rumlow was a cheap man regarding his men. He barely paid them enough. And you knew about this right away. And Josh was no different from Rumlow's way of working. So when Josh's little brother fell ill and needed money for surgery and medication, Rumlow didn't even consider it. You, on the other hand, gave him all he needed and a bit more once you found out. You even went and visited his brother in the hospital and brought him gifts. And it wasn't just Josh. You did this with all Rumlow's men and the housemaids. You were helping whoever needed it. You kept it all from Rumlow because you knew the consequences wouldn't be pretty. You couldn't help or save yourself, so you found serenity in helping others. A way to give what nobody could ever give you. But here you were. An act of kindness saved your life.

Bucky couldn't say he was surprised. Your kindness and good heart were what drew him to you in the first place. You didn't fit in this world. You were too good. Even in your darkest time, you managed to be the light for others.

So he promised you and himself that you would not shed a single tear again. That nobody was going to touch you again. And those who did were going to pay. Before you could stop him and tell him it wasn't worth it, he told you it wasn't up for discussion.

It was personal since he found out, but now that he knew Rumlow knew about your relationship and he still chose to hurt you. It became revenge.

You couldn't help the smile when he told you that he would handle everything and that you didn't have anything to worry about. You tried to tell him how impossible that was, but he knew how to silence you.

"They are coming for me now anyway. So let this be my problem while you rest."

And you listened to him. You spent the rest of the day with Bucky doing nothing. He took care of everything. Whatever you wanted came right to you. And you got to keep his company, which was something you missed dearly. Light conversations were going on between the both of you. You expected some awkwardness, but there was none. You felt at home. You were home.

After taking the medication that Bruce prescribed for you to help your recovery, you felt a little sleepy. He brought you back to the bedroom, telling you to let him know if you wanted anything. You thanked him, feeling truly grateful for all his help.

After you went to bed, he sat in his office, trying to figure out a plan. What should the next move be? He needed to play this wisely. He was interrupted by Steve and Sam's arrival. They showed up to find out why he didn't come to work today. Even if they could tell his excuse was a ridiculous lie, they didn't call him out for it. Bucky didn't want to tell them what had happened just yet. He trusted the two men with his life. But this was your life. He was extra careful.

However, his wishes didn't come true.

After Steve and Sam had stayed to hang out for some time, They heard noise coming from right outside the mansion. They left the office to be greeted with a very angry-looking Brock Rumlow and Alexander Pierce shouting at Bucky's men to let them in. Bucky took the lead, with his bestfriends following behind.

"Gentlemen, to what do I own the honour?" Even though Bucky had a pretty good idea why they were here, it was his time to put on his best act.

"Where the hell is my wife, Barnes?" Rumlow shouted as he pushed the man to go stand in front of Bucky.

"Why would I know this?" Bucky put his hands in his pockets to avoid punching Rumlow in the face.

"You know damn well why. Where is she? What have you done to her?" Bucky wanted to laugh at Rumlow's fake act of the worrisome husband.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He wanted to see how this was going to play out.

"Like you didn't send your men on us last night and take my daughter." Pierce moved to join Rumlow, facing Bucky.

"No, I didn't." Bucky could see the cuts both men had on their faces. It must be from the punching session you talked about.

"Only you could pull a stunt like this."

"I have no reason to do so."

"Because you're still mad, she chose me over you. Your ego can't take it."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"She told me, Barnes. You like her and have been harassing her to get with you. And you took her. Where is she?"

"None of this is true. I only have respect for Mrs. Rumlow. That's all."

"So you aren't going to tell us where she is?"

"If I find anything, I won't hesitate to inform you."

"You are playing a dangerous game. If anything happened to my daughter, you wouldn't stand a chance."

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

With a fake smile on their faces, Pierce and Rumlow left. They really stuck to their act. The loving husband and caring father It was laughable. Painting him as the bad guy was a smart move. He would give them that. However, he was smarter than them.

He turned to find Sam and Steve looking at him suspiciously. For someone to find out the love of his life was missing, he was too calm. And his reaction to the whole encounter was telling them that something was off.

Without a word, Bucky excused himself to go upstairs. He went straight to the room you were occupying. He needed to check on you. He walked in after knocking. The sound of the water was the only thing to stop his panic when he came in and saw the empty bed. He turned around when he heard the unlocking of the bathroom's door.

"Hey." You spoke with a smile when you saw him standing in the middle of the room.

"Hey. How are you feeling now?" He didn't hide how his eyes kept moving all over your body to check on you.

"Better. Thanks," you answered him with a soft voice.

"I thought I heard....." You were the first to bring up the real reason why he was here.

"Nothing. It was nothing." Bucky didn't let you finish.

"Like I said. You have nothing to worry about." He was quick to reassure you.

"Thank you." You lost count of how many times you said the word in less than a day. But you were truly thankful.

"Why don't you continue your nap while I make dinner for when you wake up?" You almost wanted to cry. Nobody ever cared this much. Expect Bucky. It had always been Bucky.

Bucky left the room as you made your way back to the bed. He smiled at you before he closed the door.

If it wasn't for his steady personality, he would have screamed like a baby when he turned to see Steve and Sam standing outside your door with the same suspicious look on their faces.

"Is there something we should know, Bucky?" Steve spoke first, knowing his friend was already hiding something.

With a sigh, Bucky knew he had to tell And he did.

"I can't ask you to help me with this. You have families and people you care about. But she is my family. I can't turn my back on her again." Bucky spoke after he had finished telling them what happened. It was going to be risky, and he didn't want to force his bestfriend to feel like they had to join him.

"So what are we doing next?" Both Steve and Sam knew they didn't need to talk to make a decision. They were kind of offended when Bucky suggested they wouldn't back him up instantly. Yes, both had families. Bucky was a big part of this family. So this was their fight, too.

"I don't know." Bucky gave them an honest answer. He didn't know what the right next move should be.

"It's quite clear, Barnes." A fourth voice added. The three men turned around quickly, hands ready on their guns.

"What are you doing here, Fury?" It seemed lots of people were remembering Bucky today.

"I just wanted to check on you." Nick walked in to sit on the big couch in the office, facing three of them.

"What do you want?" Bucky didn't have time for whatever game Nick was playing.

"Nothing. Just want to check on the girl and see what you are going to do next?" Bucky knew better than to let his surprise show.

"What girl?" He kept the neutral tone and expression up.

"Pierce's daughter." Maybe Nick is here to trick him. At the end of the day, nobody really knew where Nick Fury's allegiance lay.

"I said.."

"I know you were the one who went and got her last night. After Pierce and Rumlow left her."

Silence filled the place for a few seconds. The three of them are trying to process Nick's words. He knew?

"How do you..."

"I know everything. I know what Pierce and Rumlow were planning to do. I didn't know when. So I threw you the information about their marriage."

In any other situation, the stunned reaction the three men held would be very funny.

"What? Do you think I go around talking about other people's business? You needed to know. So you can move. So when this happened, the girl had somewhere to go."

"What made you think I would help her?"

"Cut the crap, James. You're in love with her. You love her so much that you wouldn't have had a problem standing in front of Alexander to marry her. If it wasn't for Rumlow,"

It appeared that Bucky didn't do a good job at hiding your relationship back then.

"So you knew they were going to kill her and did nothing?" He couldn't help the venom filling his voice as his mind caught on to Nick's words. He put you in danger.

"I knew they were going to let some of their men do it. I knew their men loved and respected her. They wouldn't do it."

"You couldn't be sure of this."

"They didn't do it, did they?"

"Why are you here, Nick?"

"To help you take down Pierce and Rumlow once and for all. Because if someone can do it, it can only be you."

Taglist: @ozwriterchick @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @kandis-mom @dexter99

[wanderinginksplot]

One Shot: Captain Fordo + Gear

Captain Fordo x gn!reader. Flirtatious.

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: fear of heights, descriptions of panic, awkwardness, flirtations both verbal and physical.

---

One of your favorite parts of working with the clone troopers was figuring out everyone’s interests and passions. Some were obvious - Cog liked anything mechanical - while others were well-hidden, like Pierce’s skill for baking. 

It had been strange in the beginning, watching men who were known across the galaxy as lethal warriors coo over some small thing that had caught their attention. Now, you found it charming and utterly endearing. 

You had been in the hangar for less than two seconds when someone called your name. The commanding tone and friendly pitch told you immediately that it was Captain Fordo, but you still made eye contact and let him beckon you over before you changed your course to approach him. 

Fordo was one of the troopers you had been working with the longest. He was an Alpha ARC, one of the first troopers the Kaminoans had ever produced. He was taller and broader than most of his brothers, though you suspected some of that was the way he held himself to keep the kama around his waist from getting in his way. That bearing was one of his most unique traits, a remnant of the training he had received from Jango Fett himself. 

And, when you were being truly honest with yourself, he was your favorite of the men. He was certainly the one to whom you were closest - every time you were in the same area as him, Fordo made a point of speaking with you, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time. 

You had barely gotten into earshot when Fordo started waving something at you. “Have you seen these yet?” 

“I can’t even see it now,” you pointed out. 

After he rolled his eyes at your comedic squint, Fordo lifted the object up for you. He held it carefully, using his fingertips at the very bottom of it so you could see the entirety of whatever piece of new gear he had managed to pick up. 

Because that was his passion. In fact, ‘passion’ might still be putting things lightly. Captain Fordo verged on obsession with the gear that made up his kit. He could always be counted on to find new, obscure things that he thought should be added to the standard gear all troopers carried around. And, since he tested everything himself - on and off the battlefield - he was usually right. 

And it wasn’t just weaponry. Tactical gear, survival gear… anything Fordo thought was interesting, he fixated on. He needed to dig in, find out how it worked, how useful it was, whether he could create anything better, and then how it could be incorporated into the current collection of standard gear. He had come up with countless ideas in the past, several of them so clever and helpful that the GAR’s Procurement Department had consulted with him to find the correct materials to purchase. 

“Well?” Fordo pressed, one brow arching impatiently. “You can see it now, can’t you?”

You laughed despite the inherent rudeness in his question. He didn’t mean anything by it, it was just how he always was. Fordo was a man of many contrasts. He could be brash and impatient, but he always had time to help a friend or get into the specifics of a piece of gear for someone who didn’t understand how to operate it. He could be flippant, but he also visibly brightened when he saw you. Many people described him as too professional and businesslike, but he always took a moment to show you the newest gadget to have captured his attention. 

“I can,” you admitted readily. “But that doesn’t help me much. I have no idea what that is.”

“Let me just demonstrate it for you.”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, trying to hide your smile. The brash, flippant, business-like captain was nearly vibrating with excitement as he prepared to show you what the new piece of gear did. 

Abruptly, your smile disappeared and you found yourself trying to stifle a gasp instead. Fordo reached out and towed you close as soon as you had agreed to his suggestion. He even wrapped an arm firmly around your waist, holding you against the plastoid of his red-touched armor. There was the noise of a clip and a brief popping sound, but it was nothing more than a backdrop to your raging thoughts.

That simple contact was the first moment you considered that your feelings of favoritism toward Captain Fordo might run a little deeper than pure friendship. The sudden flash of realization made you feel unsteady, like your knees weren’t actually supporting your weight anymore. 

And then you looked up. 

And then you looked down. 

You had noticed that the ceiling of the expansive hangar bay looked closer than it should have as you looked past Fordo’s face, but you still weren’t quite prepared to see the floor so very far below your feet. 

The casual, half-startled grip you’d had on Fordo’s shoulders turned much, much tighter as you bit back a squeak of alarm. Past the blood rushing through your ears, you could hear Fordo explaining the new gear to you. 

“-about time we developed an ascension cable with the capability to hold two people. It’s gonna make hostage retrieval a lot easier. Or Seppie retrieval. Either way.” Fordo’s shrug made the edges of your vision go white with terror. 

The only reason you weren’t screaming was because you were hooked to the cable as well. To be in the hangar bay, all workers had to wear a harness. You had always thought it was a stupid policy, since you weren’t about to climb anything tall, but the way it was supporting your weight as well made you mentally thank whoever had decided on the policy. Of course, if you hadn’t been wearing a harness, Fordo probably wouldn’t have launched you up into the air without more of a warning…

Fordo was oblivious to your fear, glancing curiously around the hangar instead. To be fair, he probably hadn’t seen it from this angle before. You certainly hadn’t, and you would give all of your credits not to be seeing it then. “And the cable itself is longer. Previous versions had a maximum vertical firing distance of seventy-five meters. I just fired this cable at double that distance and there’s still some available to spool- What’s going on?”

“I’m just-” Your explanation broke off in an embarrassing squeak as you rotated slightly. “I don’t- don’t like heights.”

“You didn’t tell me that before I pulled you a hundred meters into the air?” Fordo bit out. The condemnation was sharp, but you knew him too well to be fooled. There was concern behind it. His free hand moved to the small tube that had caused the whole mess, expertly manipulating the buttons.

“If you had told me it was an ascension cable, I would have,” you countered. 

Your thoughts were starting to feel a little distant. You had never liked heights, but there was something about this situation that seemed particularly bad. Several things, actually. 

These hangar bays were built to hold large ships, and were among the largest free-standing structures in the galaxy in order to accommodate those ships. The demonstration would have been equally bad if you were a dozen feet in the air, but the legitimacy of being scared of such a large drop made you feel extra panicky. 

Beyond that, you hadn’t realized how much it would bother you not to see the tail of a rope hanging down below you. That was part of the appeal of ascension cables - nothing for the enemy to grab onto below you. Still, the only thing it meant right then was that you would have no chance of saving yourself if you were to slip. 

Finally, a distant but still existent factor was that you didn’t want Fordo to think less of you. He was one of the most competent troopers you had ever met, and you knew part of his tolerance for you was because you did your job well. It hurt to know that your reaction was probably making him think less of you, but the terror raging inside of your chest was too strong to ignore. 

A weird pressure came over you, and it took a moment to realize that it was from Fordo tightening his arm around you. “Stay with me.”

“Wh-?” Why was talking so difficult all of a sudden? You struggled to gather your thoughts, then to push them in the vague direction of your mouth. “What do you mean?”

“You look a little…” Fordo trailed off, dark eyes traveling across your face. “Just stay with me.”

Oh. Fordo thought you were going to faint. "I'm fine, I promise. Just scared." You winced at the admission even as you watched Fordo's expression turn to something you couldn't quite place. Scared? That made you sound like a child. "Nervous, I mean." 

"Don't worry, little one," Fordo assured you. "I'll get you back down as soon as I can." 

Any irritation you may have felt at being called 'little one' was immediately soothed by Fordo's tone. It was almost… gentle. That was strange for him, but appreciated in the present circumstance. Maybe you would just focus on getting through this. You could impress Fordo with your returned abilities when you were back on solid ground. 

"Thank you," was the response you settled for. You opted to close your eyes rather than decide between watching the ceiling, watching the floor, or staring at Fordo.

An abrupt lurch made you gasp and you couldn't help your reaction. You reflexively turned, tucking your face against Fordo's chestplate. Plastoid was never the most comfortable material, but it felt like a bit more shelter. 

Then you came to your senses and tried to pull away."I'm sorry-" 

Fordo's free hand rose to press between your shoulder blades. "Does this help?" 

Between his hand wrapped around you and the one keeping you close, Fordo's grip on you did help. There was only one problem: 

"How are you holding on?" 

Fordo took a moment to answer. When he did, you could hear the smile in his voice. "The ascension cable is attached to my belt." 

"And it's sturdy?" you checked. The question was nonsensical, but you couldn't help it. You weren't leaving anything to chance. 

"Very," he assured you, his hand gently rubbing your back. "That's what they're designed for. The lift mechanism is too powerful for most humanoids to grip while it's active."

“So the only thing keeping us up here right now is a plastoid belt?” 

The shrill question made Fordo pause again, but he was quick to ease your concern. “A belt designed by the GAR to be able to hold myself and any Seppie we might have to retrieve. Including any and every dense-beinged species in the galaxy. Just stay where you are and we’ll be fine.”

You let yourself relax despite the nerve-wracking situation. The slight swaying of the ascension cable was lessening as you got closer to the ground and you couldn’t seem to hear the whir of the mechanism lowering you anymore. 

“I have to admit,” you said, begrudging. “I can hardly feel us moving, it’s so smooth.”

This time, the silence before Fordo’s answer stretched uncomfortably long. Almost long enough that you relinquished your place against his chest plate to look up at him. In fact, the only reason you didn’t was because his hand against the back of your head kept you where you were. 

“...Fordo?” you asked, uncomfortable with the tense quality of the silence.

“Don’t…” Fordo sighed. “I need you to stay calm for me, okay? We… Well, we’re not moving.”

“Not-?” You tried in vain to pull your head away to look, but Fordo’s grip was firm. “Fordo!”

“I’m sorry, just-” He interrupted himself to bite back whatever he had been about to say. “Just promise me you won’t panic, yeah? This is a delicate situation.”

You didn’t have time to reassure him before his hand lifted away. When you glanced around, you realized that he had been telling the truth. You really weren’t moving any more. And when you looked down, you found that you couldn’t have moved much in the first place. If you were any closer to the ground than when you had started, you couldn’t see the difference. 

The ominous creaking of plastoid was the only clue you had that your fingers had started tightening around Fordo’s arm and waist. He didn’t seem concerned about the armor at all, however. No, Fordo’s concern seemed to be for you and you alone. It was apparent on his face, and particularly easy to see in his eyes. 

A soft chime rang through the space between you. By the time you recognized it as a wrist comlink, Fordo had already begun raising his arm to his face. 

“Captain, you activated your distress signal,” a trooper informed him. “What is it?”

“The dual-carry ascension cable is stuck,” Fordo reported.

Needless to say, the laughter from the other end of the line was not comforting. 

Fordo growled something into the comlink, his voice too low and fast for you to catch any individual words. The response came quickly, though you could still hear the amusement in the other trooper’s voice. “Sorry, sir, but Procurement told you it was only a semi-functional prototype.”

“Yeah, then why did they let me take it?” Fordo asked, clearly grumpy. “They had to know I was going to test it.”

“Not with a civvie in tow!”

“Sergeant…” Fordo warned.

Ah, so that was it. Sergeant Chute was Fordo’s second-in-command. He was well-known in the GAR for his careless attitude. Perhaps ‘careless’ was the wrong word. Chute cared intensely about the things that mattered, but everything outside of what it took to stay alive? He simply didn’t have time. Of course Chute would find this situation amusing. 

“Sorry, Captain,” Chute said again. After another moment of quiet, he asked, “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Get us unstuck.”

“How?” 

Fordo made a low, irritated noise in his throat. “I don’t particularly care how, Chute. Just do it!”

“Okay, let me see what I can figure out.”

The call disconnected and you watched one of the armored figures at ground level walk purposefully away. Without the distraction of eavesdropping on a call, you were left alone with Fordo and the intrusive thoughts of what would happen if the cable stayed stuck… or worse, if it became suddenly unstuck. 

Your fingers tightened on Fordo once more. The grip was strong enough that you watched your knuckles pale under the pressure of your own terror. You weren’t entirely sure why you were holding on so tightly - if the cable were to suddenly unsnag and leave you plummeting toward the ground, Fordo would be utterly unable to help you. 

“I’m sorry I got you into this.”

The blunt, unprompted apology was a jolt to your internal spiral, pulling you from those thoughts and back into the moment. As much as you didn’t appreciate this particular moment, it was better than being inside of your mind. 

“You couldn’t have known,” you assured him. “I don’t really tell people about my fears.”

Fordo shook his head, a wry grin curving his lips. “Not about the heights, but I should have known better than to pull a civilian into testing new gear with me.”

“You didn’t, not really,” you argued, shaken by the implication that Fordo had been callous and careless. “You’ve never treated me like a crash test dummy or anything like that. You just get excited about new gear and you like to show me. And I like that you like to show me. We’re- Well, it makes me feel like we’re… friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Fordo asked, one brow cocked. The satisfied curl of his lips eased something in you, reassuring that he wouldn’t tease you for presuming that your relationship was more than it was in reality. “Yeah, I would say we’re friends.”

You smiled, Fordo’s agreement temporarily pushing back the panic in you. Before you could attempt to articulate your pleasure at hearing that, Fordo’s comlink crackled to life once more. 

“Captain, when you’re ready, we’ve come up with a few solutions for you.”

“Finally,” Fordo complained. “What do we have?” 

“Easiest first,” Chute told him. “Can you use your jetpack?”

“I don’t have it on me.” His brow creased with something like guilt. “I didn’t want the extra weight.”

“What if we brought it up to you?”

“It’s modified for speed, not carrying capacity. It wouldn’t support both of us.”

You let out an involuntary shudder at the idea. Fordo glanced at you, pulled the comlink away, and said, “Don’t worry, we’re not doing that.”

“Could we bring you an unmodified jetpack instead?” Chute asked. 

“We both know the jetpacks aren’t designed for use by multiple people,” Fordo reminded him. “It wouldn’t be able to carry two of us, and I’m not about to sign off on giving a jetpack to a civvie.”

“Suppose not,” Chute agreed. “What if you didn’t go for a sustained jet to the ground? You could feather the engine to slow your drop, then roll when you hit the ground.”

That, somehow, sounded worse than all of the other options. You began to resign yourself to the fact that you were going to live the rest of your life - such as it was - suspended halfway between the floor and ceiling of a hangar bay. 

Fordo’s thumb stroked soothingly over your shoulder. “Do you have any plans that don’t center around using a jetpack, Chute?”

“One: We fire a traditional ascension cable beside where you are. You release your cable and climb down that one instead.”

“Interesting…” Fordo said slowly. “How will you account for the distance? Normal ascension cables won’t be able to reach the ceiling.”

“Good point,” Chute admitted. “I think Procurement said they have an ascension cable that’s only been modified to include extension.”

“So it isn’t meant for two people.”

“No.” The sergeant didn’t sound overly concerned about that fact. “But you don’t need it to ascend, do you? You’ll just be using it to climb down. It should be fine.”

“I don’t like ‘should’,” Fordo told him, voice dark. 

“Look at it this way, Captain,” Chute said, clearly close to laughing again. “What are the odds that two pieces of equipment will malfunction in one day?”

“I don’t want to think about it.” Fordo sighed, a muscle ticcing in his jaw as he stared at the ground and considered your options. “Okay, get the extended cable.”

“I’ll comm you when everything is set up.”

And then the connection cut. Fordo was still in ‘comforting’ mode, soothing you with, “Sorry about all of this. If I had my helmet, you wouldn’t hear the whole conversation and I could bring you a solution without all of the extra fuss. Just a few more minutes, okay? Then we’ll be back on solid ground.”

“I’m worried about that, too,” you told him. “Fordo, I don’t know if I can lower myself down a rope for that long and not lose my grip.”

He frowned at you. “I’m not having you go down the rope alone. Are you joking? You’re getting harnessed to me and I’ll lower both of us down. I’m not careless enough to let someone with a bad fear of heights climb that far on their own.”

Despite the sass and the rude noise he made at the end of the statement, Fordo’s correction left you feeling… known. He cared enough to consider your feelings and abilities when he was making his plans, even when he was operating in a situation that was stressful and time-sensitive.

“Thank you, Fordo,” you told him, gratitude ringing through your voice. “If there’s ever anything you need from me, tell me. You know, in the name of friendship.”

The handsome captain had started watching you intently halfway through your offer, and - though your addition had made him smile - there was still something serious in his expression. “Since we’re stuck up here for as long as it takes my men to find an extended cable, I’m going to take you up on that right away. Will you answer a question for me?”

“A question,” you repeated nervously. “You can ask me anything any time, you know that. Just don’t make it too tricky. Most of my brain is still busy calculating the odds that I’ll die in the next hour.”

“You’ve always been very open with me,” Fordo agreed. “I just wanted the chance to talk with you when my men aren’t wandering around, trying to overhear.”

That piqued your curiosity, and you found your attention pulling away from the ever-present awareness of where you were. “Ask whatever you like.”

Fordo took a breath. Not a quick one, nor particularly deep, but it was telling. It meant that something about his own question made him nervous. Your interest only grew. “You’re always watching me.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a question, but then, it didn’t really need to be. You knew what he wanted to know. The only question was how truthful you were going to be in your response. 

“Because I admire you,” you told him frankly. Yeah, the phrasing was old-fashioned, but it was just vague enough for you to figure out how to proceed once you’d seen Fordo’s reaction to it. 

“I- admire you, too,” Fordo said. “You’re smart, and good at your job, and you always ask the right questions when it comes to the gear. You care.”

“Thanks,” you accepted, feeling an uneasy lump in your throat. It should have been nice to hear that you were admired in return, but there was something hollow in it. The only reason you should want to hear something more is if… well, if you felt something… more…

Oh.

Fordo, oblivious to your internal realization, started to move on. “I think I can see Chute. He should have things set up by now. By my estimate, we’ll be ready in-”

“Wait,” you interrupted. “You got the chance to give reasons that you admire me. I want to do the same. You’re excellent at your job and I can tell you care about the men. You always go a little further than you should to complete the mission and it makes me worry, but you’re very good at analyzing the risks, so no one gets hurt. And your love of gear always makes me happy to see. It’s something you’re passionate about, and it makes me feel good that you want to share that passion with me.”

Fordo was staring at you. He didn’t seem inclined to reply and it was starting to make you nervous. You cleared your throat. “But you were saying? How long do you think until we can switch cables?”

“You worry about me?” he asked instead of answering your questions. 

“Of course I worry about you!” You took a breath, attempting to calm down slightly. “You have an incredibly dangerous job and I’m stuck here on Coruscant. I usually don’t know what’s happening with your missions until you get back, unless I hear some of the troopers talking. I worry all of the time. I care about you, Fordo.”

“Captain, we’re getting ready to fire the secondary ascension cable.”

Chute’s interruption should rightfully have been a relief, since it signaled your impending descent from the stuck cable. However, Fordo had seemed to be getting ready to reply to your profession of care for him and you found yourself wishing that Chute had taken a little bit longer to get ready. 

Fordo, of course, snapped immediately into Captain mode. “Okay, when they fire the ascension cable, they’ll need to check that it’s secure. After that’s done, I’ll switch your harness connection to me instead of our cable. Then I’ll swing us over, attach my harness to that cable, and lower us down. Any questions?” 

“Why don’t we attach our harnesses to that cable instead?” you asked. 

“Because the attachments are at the base of the cable,” Fordo explained. “To keep it from immediately snapping closed and hanging uselessly from the ceiling, Chute will keep the other end of it at the floor.”

“And he can’t let go once we’re on the cable?” 

Fordo’s patience was apparently limitless, since your nervous line of questioning didn’t seem to bother him in the least. “There’s really no point. You’ll be attached to me, so it’s not like we’re going to fall. The biggest unknown right now is whether the extra ascension cable is going to get stuck or not. Maybe you feel differently, but I don’t particularly trust any GAR equipment right now. Especially since we don’t know whether Procurement has any other backups for us to use.”

“I don’t know if-” 

Your nervous protests were interrupted by a whoosh, followed by a dull thump as the ascension cable was fired and soared past you to connect with the ceiling. Fordo watched it, then studied the men on the ground with a critical eye.

“It’s time,” he announced after a few moments, turning his attention to you once more. With a steadying touch on your shoulders, he gave a nod. “Just trust me. I’ll have you safely on the ground in a minute or two.”

As hard as you tried to disguise the nervousness, you could feel the way your brow crumpled with a single glance at the duracrete floor so far below. 

Fordo’s fingers tightened, pulling your attention upward. His dark eyes were soothing, as was his low voice. “You can be brave for me. Right?”

You nodded, though it felt jerky, like you weren’t fully in control of the movement. Fordo beamed anyway. “I know you can. Deep breath.”

Before your chest had fully expanded, Fordo had wrapped an arm under yours, muscles flexing while he unclipped your harness from the ascension cable and clipped it to his harness instead. 

“Okay, there’s the tricky part, already done,” he told you. “Now, I need you to hang on as tight as you can for the next part. You’re attached to me and I won’t ever be away from a cable, so we’re not going to fall either way. But a sudden shift of weight can make things more of a challenge. Do you think you can hold on to me?”

“You’re lucky if I ever let you go,” you told him. Your voice was audibly shaking, but Fordo grinned anyway. 

“Thanks for the incentive,” he teased. “Hold on. Swinging over in three… two… one.”

The whole hangar bay seemed to sway sideways and your breath caught. But when it steadied, it seemed more solid than it had the entire time you were on the ill-fated dual ascension cable. The metallic sound of a clip reached you and then you were slowly making your way downward. 

You wanted to speak, to ask how Fordo was doing, but you were terrified to distract him in any way. So you kept silent… until you felt your clammy hands beginning to slip against Fordo’s armor. 

The ground was far closer now - not close enough that you could hold on until you had finally reached it, but close enough that you wouldn’t die if you fell. In fact, you may not even break anything. Of course, that was all assuming that the harness didn’t hold, but your faith in GAR kit had taken a beating that day. 

“Fordo,” you started. Due to your nerves, it came out in a murmur, but he heard you anyway. 

“Almost there, I promise,” he assured you, his voice in a low tone that matched yours. It also made you feel incredibly tingly, especially when he added, “You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.”

The high from that - and the dizzy, stifled fantasies about other situations in which he might say the same thing - almost glued your lips together, but you managed to pry out, “I’m slipping. I don’t want to throw your balance off. Do you need me to unhook myself? I think I can fall from here and be okay…”

You really didn’t want to fall from there. The reluctance was plain in your voice, but you made the offer anyway. It wouldn’t be fair to risk both of you falling, not when you were clear from the worst of the danger. 

Fordo’s torso lurched in your grip and you looked up at him, alarmed. That alarm turned first to confusion, then to betrayal. Fordo was laughing.

He glanced down at you, still grinning. “You’re so dramatic.”

Before you could give that the reply it deserved, Fordo stopped your descent, gripping the cable over his head with one hand and using the other to wrap around your side. And then you were biting back a shout. The devastating motion had seemed like you were falling, but it was actually the opposite. You were being pulled upward, further and further until you landed with a thump that left you breathless. 

Your new vantage point let you see the way Fordo was gripping the cable between his booted feet, feeding through a bit at a time as you started down once more. It was only when the wolf whistle from the floor reached you that you realized that Fordo had slung you over his shoulder. 

Even worse, he kept only one hand on the rope. The other was holding the back of your leg, keeping it pinned to his chestplate. You were grateful that his grip kept you from slipping off of his shoulder entirely, but you wished his fingers weren’t quite so close to the top of your thigh.

“Are you serious right now?” you demanded, trying to reposition yourself so that your butt wasn’t sticking quite so dramatically upward. 

“Watch it, civvie. You almost gave me a knee to the face.” You immediately stilled, though Fordo didn’t seem overly concerned about the possibility of injury. “Would you rather fall?”

“I thought I would rather do anything than fall,” you muttered. “This is making me rethink the possibilities.”

Fordo had a nice laugh, even if it was at your expense. At the very least, it gave you something else to focus on instead of the troopers on the ground. They seemed highly amused by the way Fordo was transporting you and were happy to shout out additional suggestions that ranged from bad to worse. The only saving grace was that the rest of the trip was swift.

“Shut up, all of you,” Fordo grumbled as his booted feet touched the ground. 

Chute was grinning, you could see it from the gap between Fordo’s chest and arm. “Congratulations on a successful rescue, Captain. You two looked pretty cozy up there, and even more so on the way down.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing something else right now, Sergeant?” Fordo asked sharply.

“I don’t have anywhere to be until fourteen-thirty,” Chute told him, sounding extremely smug about it. 

“Good.” Fordo snatched the handle of the ascension cable from him, pressing a single button and letting the small cylinder soar up until it hit the ceiling with a barely audible thunk. “Then you and the men can work on getting those cables unhooked, respooled, and returned to Procurement.”

Chute wasn’t smiling when Fordo walked away. 

“Can I get down now?” you asked. You were starting to get a little dizzy from the angle of your head, but that wasn’t the full cause of your lightheadedness. If only Fordo would stop stroking his thumb against your skin!

“Of course, just let me get a little further away from those idiots.”

True to his word, Fordo carried you just a little further toward one side of the hangar bay. You could still watch the troopers attempt to figure out the ascension cable conundrum - and did watch, with glee - but you were mostly out of earshot. 

Fordo took a gentle hold of your hips and let you slide down from his shoulder. It was a slow process, since he was clearly taking pains not to frighten you or make you feel like you would fall. Unfortunately, the major effect was that his fingertips dragged over you as you moved further and further down. Nothing inappropriate, of course, but you still felt flustered. 

When you were finally on solid ground once more, you gave Fordo a nod and a half smile. “Thank you, Fordo. I’m glad that worked out as well as it did.”

“Hold on, little one,” Fordo commanded, apparently having sensed that you were going to rush off. “We’re still connected.”

You watched in sheepish interest as he unhooked your harness from his own, Fordo’s strong hands working the clasps in a way that encouraged your intense study. 

“And before you disappear, we should go to the mess.”

That made you blink. “The mess?”

“You’re probably feeling a bit of adrenaline from that, aren’t you?” Lying wasn’t an option, not when Fordo was already giving you a skeptical look. When you nodded, Fordo echoed the motion. “Yeah, I figured. When it starts to leave your system, you’re gonna feel terrible. It’s better if you have something to eat and drink. Let’s go.”

When he put it that way, it made sense. And, you had to admit, you were feeling a little hungry. “Okay.”

Fordo held the door for you, following as soon as you had stepped through. 

“Remind me while we’re eating and I’ll give you my comlink frequency.”

Your head snapped over toward him so quickly that your neck protested. “Why, exactly?”

Fordo watched you evenly, a hint of a grin on his face. “Well, now that I know you worry about me, I want to make sure you can reach me any time you need to.”

“And if you’re in a war zone?” you asked. To your surprise, your voice sounded normal, even when it was coming from a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. What exactly was Fordo trying to do?

“I won’t answer,” he said with a shrug. “But any other time, I’ll pick up and put your nerves at ease. And… you know, even if I’m on-planet, I’ll pick up. I never mind making time for one of my favorite people.”

Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest as you gave Fordo a sidelong glance. He was doing the same thing, both of you trying and utterly failing to be subtle. 

Before the moment could turn awkward, you grinned at him. “You’re going to regret that, Captain. I get very worried…”

Fordo beamed at the way you had bumped him with your shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”

---

Author's Note - This was my first time writing Fordo and I had a bit of trouble with him! Sorry if he's OOC, but I had fun. He just strikes me as being really sincere, even when he's teasing!

I discontinued my taglist, but you can read my writing on @wanderinginksplot-writes or find my masterlist here!

[bokkura]

I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF I HAD TO . chapter four

synopsis :: lee heeseung was your first love, if you could count a ghost as a love. he made you feel adored, he made you feel special. all despite the barrier between your worlds. but this all comes crumbling when your death day rolls around, and it’s revealed heeseung had toyed with your heart. being in love with another on the other side the entire time. now you’re stuck heartbroken in the land of the dead, with only a few newfound friends to help you.

and a really beautiful dead ice skater.

pairings :: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre :: ghost!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

masterlist.

you’re visibly dejected the days after your conversation with sunghoon. you still don’t know how you made his mood deplete so fast and you feel shitty for it. and no offense, but you feel like your friends aren’t much help. it’s always just the same ‘that’s how sunghoon is’ speech.

you want to look for sunghoon again but you keep thinking that maybe you should finally leave him alone. you’ve done this twice and it’s ended badly both times. maybe this one time you should give things up.

days go by, weeks even. you’re spending time with your friends more. you’re exploring areas of the land of the dead you hadn’t before. you were living — ironically enough — after cutting out distractions. all because of what yunjin told you;

“distractions are temporary. if you want to get over heeseung, come with me, i’ll take you to do things all the time!”

you tilt your head in confusion, “isn’t that still a distraction?”

“not a constant one. this way you can let yourself heal — not get all tangled up with another boy. and use him to make you feel better.”

you gasp, “that’s not what i’m doing!” yunjin raises a brow at you, silently telling you she doesn’t believe you. “really. it’s like playing detective. i’ve even figured out how he died.”

now even yunjin can’t hide her curiosity at that. everyone had an idea; the whole wet dog look gave a lot away. but maybe he drowned, maybe he was murdered in water, maybe he was just wet when he died.

but you refused to tell her. if you had any possible future chance in getting to know sunghoon again he would feel so betrayed that you had told your friend his story. and yunjin is a sweetheart, but a little too gossip happy.

she’s also very fun, and very lively. she does a lot of things ranging from shopping to going to clubs. it’s fun but, admittedly scary. mostly due to the gruesome sight of some ghosts. one was missing a head!

the most eventful of you and yunjin’s rendezvous was the parties. specifically the one jake was hosting, the one you saw sunghoon at. yunjin was just as surprised as you to see him there. bustling crowds aren’t usually his thing. more like aren’t ever his thing.

but he was looking at you all night. that same monotone expression set like stone on his face. you were back to an outsider in his world. you missed that brief moment where you had gotten somewhere with him.

you couldn’t shake that off the days going forward. you didn’t hang out much with yunjin and you would be lying if you said you weren’t brainstorming ideas on how to approach sunghoon again. because why would he go to a party, which is not his scene, just to stare at you the whole time? he knew by now that you’re good friends with jake, he knew you would be there.

that brings you to now, you’re sitting in the library, mind finally off of sunghoon and onto the next distraction; reading as many books as you can in an hour and trying to beat your record each time. a clever game you have to say so yourself. you have eternity to play it.

you let out a shrill squeal when your chair is pulled out and swung around. sunghoon leans over you, hands on each side of the chair. you pull your book up to your face, covering all but your eyes. you squeeze them shut, flustered by the closeness and the stares you’re getting for your loudness.

“why did you stop?” god, this boy is getting awfully confusing.

“you’ve been begging me to!” you whisper shout, tossing your book to the side. he doesn’t move despite your little tantrum, his face still close to you and his eyes challenging you.

“but you don’t listen, why did you listen this time?”

you blink slowly, “you walked off like a defeated puppy the other day. i thought i hurt your feelings and leaving you alone would help.” sunghoon sighs exasperatedly,

“i wanted you to chase after me and go on about how you care and shit.” ah, he is like you after all. “look, when i was alive it was near impossible making friends. it’s why i avoid people now. but most of them don’t persist and i found it…”

he trails off and you beam up at him, “i’m just awesome aren’t i?” he rolls his eyes and backs away, grabbing a chair to sit across from you.

“i liked it. it felt different.” you wanted to fuss at him for running away from you if he liked how you treated him so much. but you bit your tongue and just nodded. “when you said what you said… it just sounded like everyone else and i panicked.”

you can’t help but giggle at him, and sunghoon glared at you. “i don’t talk this freely with anyone. you better treasure this, y/n.” you purse your lips and nod in response. but your smile grows once more as you lean towards him,

“does that make us friends?”

he merely sighs in annoyance and stands up, walking away. knowing his back was turned to you, he was able to smile freely when he heard the familiar clacking of your shoes behind him.

later that day when yunjin comes into your dorm you practically throw yourself on her like an excited puppy. “i won! i did it.” you laugh and grab her hands, shaking them in victory.

“you little gremlin, what did you do?”

you smirk at her and guide her to your bed. “i made friends with park sunghoon!” yunjin’s eyes widen and she lets out a short laugh,

“you’re kidding?”

you smile shyly and look down, “well he didn’t give me an exact answer… but he didn’t say no! he did that thing where he avoids my questions because he knows the answer is what i want, he just won’t admit it.”

yunjin’s jaw goes slack and she covers her mouth to giggle. “you sound like a schoolgirl talking about her crush right now.” you make a noise in protest and shake your head at her, reassuring her this is all out of pure curiosity. just interest — and not in the romantic way.

“mhm, sure. i believe you.” yunjin gives you a knowing look and you swat her shoulder. “so what now? what are you going to do now that you’re friends with him? follow him around still?”

you hum and tap your chin in thought, “i’ll probably annoy him more since i can do it without the fear of risking our friendship.” you think about it, you could ask him about why he didn’t have many friends when he was alive. you could maybe pave the way for sunghoon to make more friends.

you’re getting ahead of yourself. but you can’t help but be so intrigued by the pretty ice skater.

taglist: @adoredbyjay @natalunae @bluriki @boyfiejay

[dracoandthehounds]

White Noise - One-Shot

5.1k | Drarry | AU | M | also available on AO3

Draco had nightmares.

It was something Harry had noticed immediately upon his arrival to their safe house. Even though they’d managed a whole room to spare for Draco and all the space they thought he must have wanted, Harry was still woken in the night by the sound of bleary shouting, and gasps, and, once or twice, broken sobs. It went on like that for the first month, with a sort of quiet agreement that fell into place at once that nobody would speak of the nightly ordeal Draco suffered with. Afterall, they all had nightmares, with all the horrible things they’d seen, all the horrible things they’d done. So it was definitely nothing to be embarrassed about.

But Harry learned that with Draco it was different. Because Draco had them every single night.

And Harry became sort of obsessed with fixing it.

Hermione said that Harry was just getting stir-crazy, having to wait for word from the Order about their next mission, and that was why Harry had become so determined to find a way to fix Draco’s sleep, despite the fact that Draco told them all that there was no point, and he’d been having them for years, now. And maybe it was boredom, exhaustion borne from having to pace the old decrepit house in the middle of some forest in Ireland, the exact location known only to Remus Lupin, their secret-keeper. Maybe Harry had gotten tired of watching Hermione pour over books that he knew she’d already read, or of playing chess with Ron, who always, always won, no matter how hard Harry tried, no matter what clever move Harry pulled. Whatever it was, Harry didn’t really care. Because all he saw was a problem that demanded a solution.

His first tactic was simple. After dinner, and just before they all ticked off to bed, Harry brought Draco a mug of warm chamomile tea with a dash of milk to encourage deeper sleep. Draco stared at the mug for several moments, as though waiting for it to explain Harry’s behaviour, before he looked up, eyebrow raised, at Harry, himself.

“To, erm…” Harry stuttered, “help you sleep.”

“Right,” Draco said, looking back down. The muted candlelight caught against the scar that now stretched, jagged and forked, across Draco’s cheekbone. A weird part of Harry couldn’t help but think about all the times Draco had given him shit over the years about his own scar.

And now they matched.

Harry shook the thought from his head.

“Cheers, Potter,” Draco said, sipped the tea, then split off toward his bedroom.

Harry awoke, just a little past two in the morning, to the sound of a strangled gasp coming from the wall that separated their two rooms. And he couldn’t fall back asleep with the sounds of Draco’s panic so close, echoing in the still of the night.

The next morning, after he’d heard Draco leave his room and go turn on the shower in the loo, Harry snuck into Draco’s bedroom. In short order he found the mug from the night prior, and found, to his delight, that the mug had been drained. It gave Harry two answers.

The first was that the tea hadn’t worked to quell Draco’s nightmares, since, obviously Draco had still had them, despite having clearly drank the tea.

And the second was that Draco was willing to accept Harry’s help.

The next thing Harry tried was his muggle wireless. He showed it to Draco the following night.

“And I think we should try two different things with it,” Harry explained. “First, some muggle music, and if that doesn’t work, we can try turning it to a static station— for white noise, alright?”

“White noise?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry explained. “It’s like a steady noise that you can tune out, and then you won’t be bothered by, like, random sounds. Muggles use it all the time, I think. I read this article in a muggle magazine about it, once. When I couldn’t sleep, summer after fourth year.”

Draco stared at him, then held out a hand. Harry gave him the wireless.

“Are you going to show me how it works, or am I meant to just jab at it until something happens?” Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

Harry huffed out a laugh, then stood up, so he could sit beside Draco. He spent the next twenty minutes explaining the different knobs, and cycling through the different radio stations, until Draco got the hang of it. And he tried to ignore the warm press of Draco’s leg beside his, or the gentle smell of spearmint and lavender that seemed to come from Draco’s white-blond hair. From this close, Harry could see a few small freckles along the back of Draco’s neck that he’d never noticed before. This new knowledge felt like gold.

That night, Harry could hear the gentle sounds of classical music, a bit fuzzy from how far off they were from civilization, as it filtered through the wall separating them. There was something peaceful about the muffled sound. It gave Harry a strange feeling of a far off peace. The lie that maybe, somewhere, things were working out okay.

But, again, it didn’t work. Harry woke to Draco screaming, some choked and pleading cry. He was begging that his mother be spared.

Harry’s heart felt heavy and broken all throughout the next day. Draco’s skin, which had always been pale, did little to hide the growing dark shadows underneath his eyes, as each restless night stacked against each other. It made Harry feel as though he were losing some sort of battle, right at his homefront.

“So, the white noise tonight?” Harry asked Draco over lunch, right after Hermione had shown them the results of her past week of research, some new theories as to why Voldemort hadn’t died after Sirius had hit him with the killing curse last year, during their battle in Diagon Alley.

“Alright,” Draco said, a quick nod. “White noise tonight.”

That night, after dinner, Draco had turned to the three of them, and asked the question they knew was inevitable. “Dumbledore really didn’t tell you? Before he died?”

Hermione sighed, her face falling.

“No,” Harry said. “We think… we think he meant to—”

“We’re not even sure if he knew, Harry,” Ron said, sighing.

Harry shook his head. “I know he was onto something, alright? He’d written me, remember? The night before. That he had an idea how Voldemort came back after that night in Godric’s Hollow.”

“You’re not convinced?” Draco asked Ron.

Ron sighed. “I was, for a while. But… to leave us so in the dark… I don’t know anymore.”

Hermione sighed. “He was caught by surprise. We all were. He didn’t have time to explain.”

“And that’s even if his theory was right,” Ron argued.

Harry rubbed his forehead. They’d had this conversation plenty. He wasn’t sure if it was doing them any good.

But Draco was the one to break it. Draco coughed, mouth tight, then spoke. “I didn’t even know, you know,” he said. “About Barty Crouch Jr.— I had no idea he was still alive.”

Ron looked back up, and Harry could see his strategizing mind running behind his brown eyes. It was like the few times he’d seen Dudley at the computer, and the way the machine would cycle through its programming, its lights beeping as it thought. Harry could sense the same sort of hidden calculations now running behind the neutral expression of Ron’s face.

Right before they’d rescued Draco, the three of them had agreed to not immediately pester him for information, no matter how vital they knew it was. They’d all agreed that giving him the space to answer and to settle was what mattered most, and that if they tried too hard too soon, then the only thing they’d ensure was Draco clamming up, surely assuming that they’d only saved him for information. If they acted like all that mattered was Draco’s insight into Voldemort’s inner circle, then Draco would never trust them enough to realise that they’d saved him for a far simpler reason: that he deserved to be saved.

The inside knowledge was just a bonus.

“We thought,” Ron said, each word slow, “that you-know-who found a way to restore Crouch’s soul. Either that or Crouch never received the kiss in the first place. But, well, if that’s the case… then that would mean that Fudge had been compromised, too.”

“Which, of course, we can’t know either,” Hermione said quickly. “With Fudge dying so shortly after.”

Harry nodded along, but kept his mouth shut. He was no good at this sort of thing. Gentle interrogation, basically, if he were being honest. And they really were lucky that Ron could manage it, as Hermione didn’t have the patience for it, either. She didn’t know how to change tactics in real time, to adapt to constantly changing information. Like a game of chess. What Ron excelled in.

Draco frowned. “I don’t know, either. I only found out that Crouch was still alive after Dumbledore died. I tried to ask my mother, but, well…” he trailed off.

Ron’s eyes flashed quick to Harry and Hermione. A sign, Harry could read, to not say anything more. This was all they’d be getting for the night. It wasn’t much, but anything helped, Harry thought.

At the very least, it seemed to mean that Draco was finally beginning to trust them. Maybe.

Through their shared wall, Harry listened to Draco fiddle with the wireless that night. It clicked past station after station, until Draco seemed to find one that was static enough to his liking. Harry heard a small thump, Draco putting it down, he assumed, then listened as Draco settled into bed.

Another failure.

Harry awoke just past midnight, and the sounds he heard had him choked up before he was even fully conscious.

This time, Draco was crying. He was saying, through tear-choked sobs, that he didn’t know where Potter was, he didn’t know who was in the Order, and he didn’t know how many times he had to tell them the same thing, over and over. He begged and begged until Harry couldn’t stand it, and shoved a pillow over his own head, desperate to stop the pain building in his chest from the misery in Draco’s voice.

After half an hour of this, Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up, took a deep breath, then tip-toed to Draco’s bedroom.

When he creaked open the door, Draco didn’t wake. In the muted moonlight streaming in through the boarded up window, Harry could see streaks of tears down Draco’s pale face, shimmering like dew on grass. Harry sighed, then walked over to Draco’s bed. He sat, as quietly as he could manage, as Draco continued to thrash, mumbled and unintelligible pleads spilling from his mouth like broken prayers.

And with all the gentle measure he could manage, he reached up and put his palm against the side of Draco’s face, hoping to gently wake him from his nightmare.

Draco didn’t wake.

But he did calm.

Harry watched, in frozen shock, as Draco turned his head toward Harry’s palm. At once, his face softened, as he pressed harder against it, breathing in Harry’s skin like it had been the answer all along. Harry stared, not daring to move, as Draco continued to sleep soundly for the next ten minutes. He didn’t stir, or thrash, or mumble. He only slept. His face was still and content.

When Harry’s arm went numb, and he couldn’t justify staying any longer, he removed his arm as gently as possible, stood up, then walked as quietly as he could back to his room. And from what Harry could tell, Draco slept through the rest of the night in complete silence.

When Harry saw Draco the next morning, his face heated immediately, as though something far more scandalous had happened between them in that shadowy room.

“How’d you sleep?” Harry choked out.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “Differently,” he said after a moment. “I think… I think I still had nightmares, but maybe not as many…” He looked up. “I suppose the muggles might be on to something with that ‘white sound’ of theirs.”

“White noise,” Harry corrected automatically.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He walked off, and Harry considered telling him about what might have actually helped. But he didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know if he could stand the look on Draco’s face as he did.

Around midday, it began to rain. It started as a dull drizzle, but really began to pick up around dinner, with thunder and lightning to boot.

“Rain is also a sort of white noise,” Harry explained as he picked his way through the bland vegetables that Ron had cooked. They’d run out of spices months ago, and were meant to get a package from Katie Bell a few weeks ago, but it never showed up. Harry was trying very hard not to think too much about what that meant. It could only be bad, afterall.

“Should I not use the wireless, then?” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. “Might be worth testing the rain instead. Maybe it will work better, I dunno,” he said, looking away, so he could hide in the truth he wasn’t admitting.

“Alright,” Draco said. “Whatever you think is best.”

Harry laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s your experiment, isn’t it? Don’t want to mess with the results.”

“Spoken like a true scientist,” Harry said, smiling.

“That’s a muggle thing, isn’t it?” Draco asked. “I think Blaise once… he explained.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Draco watched, as though expecting him to continue.

“Er— Another time, maybe. It’s complicated,” Harry said, shrugging. Afterall, he still hadn’t found a good way to manage his rudimentary knowledge of science against the existence of magic. He definitely didn’t have enough that he felt confident to explain it to Draco. All of that sounded like something he ought to leave up to those Ministry researchers in the Department of Mysteries.

If there were any of them left, that is.

Harry heard Draco open his window that night. The wireless was off, just as Draco said it would be, and with the sound of rain falling outside of his own window, Harry felt himself pulled to sleep even quicker than usual.

He woke to the sound of Draco yelling. For a moment, Harry’s heart thudded, as Draco sounded more lucid than usual, but only a moment later, Harry realised it was only another nightmare. They weren’t under a real attack. At least, for now.

And like a true scientist, Harry felt he had to test this new theory of his.

He walked, as quietly as he could manage again, to Draco’s room. With a gentle touch, he opened the door, and Draco’s shouts got louder as he moved in, and the space between them cleared of walls, and doors.

And then, a sudden clap of thunder, and a flash of lightning that was far too close, and Draco was shooting up, shouting, eyes wide-open and wild.

“Potter?!” he demanded to the open air, hand over his chest. “What on— what on earth…”

“Sorry!” Harry said, gasping, staring. “You were… you were having another nightmare, I’m sorry, and last night, damnit, I’m sorry—”

Draco’s breaths finally settled, as he continued to stare bewildered at Harry. “What?” he asked again, shaking his head, eyes darting around the room, as though looking for more assailants hidden in the corners.

Well, Harry figured. The ruse was up. He began to explain.

“Last night, you were having a nightmare, so I came in, and I tried to wake you up, but, I dunno, when I touched you… you actually slept soundly, for once, and I wanted… I wanted to see if it worked again… I dunno, I’m sorry,” Harry admitted, his cheeks heating hot and strong. He felt embarrassed, and horrible, and very, very stupid.

Draco only stared at him, mouth still parted.

“Right, well, sorry, again. Goodnight,” Harry said, turning on his heel and walking toward the door.

“Wait.”

Harry’s heart thudded. He turned around to Draco staring at him.

“What?” Harry asked.

“If that… if that worked,” Draco said, speaking softly and slowly, “we should test it, again, shouldn’t we?”

“Are… are you sure?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, though he still looked scared, as though waiting for the trick surely just around the corner. And Harry could only stare at him, struck into a bit of awe, as Draco, in small little movements, edged to one side of his narrow bed.

He was making room for Harry.

Saying nothing, too afraid to ruin this momentary miracle, Harry walked forward, then climbed into bed beside Draco. And, still staring at him, Harry lied down, laying his head on Draco’s other pillow, as Draco mirrored him, staring right back. All movements that might, in any other scenario, be simple and common, but, in this exact scenario, couldn’t be more improbable. Couldn’t be more miraculous.

“Where, er—” Draco asked, his voice hoarse, likely from the yelling, “did you… where—”

“Here,” Harry answered, bringing his hand up as slowly as he could manage, trying his best not to startle Draco. He laid it against Draco’s cheek, the exact way he had the night before. Draco’s cheek felt just as soft to the touch.

And at his touch, Draco’s eyes widened, then flicked to Harry’s hand, where it cradled his cheek. And then they shot back to Harry, who could really see how grey they were in this close proximity. They were the same shade as the stone walls of Hogwarts, or maybe they were more like the gentle grey clouds that covered the English sky in the winter. They seemed to have that same sort of diffused glow, as though sunlight lingered behind them.

And Harry could smell the spearmint again.

“I don’t think I can fall asleep like this,” Draco said after a moment, the corner of his mouth creaking up into a smile.

“Oh!” Harry said, a small breath. “Right, of course,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“Maybe, um,” Draco said, before pausing.

And Harry watched as Draco turned over, facing away. For a moment, Harry was confused, until he felt Draco’s hand, his sharp narrow fingers, grab his own.

So they could pull Harry’s arm up and over, so that it would wrap around Draco’s waist.

Even with the thunder and rain outside, there was no way that Draco couldn’t hear the sound of Harry’s heart, as it hammered in his chest.

“This alright?” Draco asked. “I think this might be the only way we can fall asleep, if you’re supposed to be touching me, and all.”

Harry coughed, his mind like fuzz. “Yeah… this, er— it works.”

“Alright,” Draco said. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” Harry said, wondering if maybe all of this was a dream. A really, really good dream.

And Draco was mad if he thought Harry could fall asleep like this.

But Harry didn’t exactly mind. He was more absorbed with marvelling over how different Draco was now, how easy and pliant he had become. Harry couldn’t imagine the Draco of his younger years ever entertaining this sort of thing from Harry. Ever agreeing to sleep in the same bed with him, with Harry’s arm laying curled around his waist. Ever trusting Harry to only want what’s good for him.

But, Harry supposed, war tends to do that. Change people. Soften their edges. Or harden them, sometimes. Harry was glad that it hadn’t broken Draco. From the stories they’d heard, the visions Harry had seen, through Voldemort’s eyes, of what had been done to Draco, that too was a miracle, all of its own. A miracle that Draco was still alive, beneath Harry’s arm. That that good heart of his, that he’d spent so long pretending didn’t exist, still beat inside of him.

Beneath Harry’s arm, Draco’s breaths seemed to deepen.

Harry realised that the tosser had actually fallen asleep. He huffed out a silent laugh, then closed his eyes and tried to sleep himself. And despite how impossible of an idea it was, to think he could relax with Draco only a few inches from him, with the warmth of Draco’s waist, pressed tight against Harry’s arm, the gentle rumble of Draco’s magic, teeming beneath his skin… There was also the sound of rain, a constant patter against the forest around them, and the smell of ozone and wet dirt that blew in with every breeze, and all of it together began to culminate into Harry actually succumbing to the sweet quiet of sleep.

Harry awoke to the stream of sunlight, and something tickling his nose.

He wrenched his eyes open, and in the blurry haze without his glasses, realised something very quickly.

During the night, Harry had somehow managed to shift even closer to Draco. So close, in fact, that Draco was now pressed entirely against him, still breathing slowly, still asleep. But his back was tight to Harry’s chest, and their legs were tangled up together beneath the sheets, and he could feel Draco’s arse, pressed right up against him, and—

Immediately, Harry’s heart set to hammering again, at the feeling of Draco’s warmth, now basically surrounding him.

And Harry, unable to help himself, could only pull Draco even closer, dipping his own head forward, and pressing his face against the back of Draco’s neck.

Harry fell back asleep, surrounded by the smell of lavender.

When Harry woke up the second time, he was alone. Ignoring the weird thud in his heart at that realisation, Harry got up, and trudged back to his room to get dressed.

He nearly walked straight into Hermione on the way.

She stared at him, her mouth opening and shutting, as though cycling through a hundred different things to say.

“Were… were you in Malfoy’s room?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Er— yeah,” Harry said, scratching at his head, feeling his cheeks redden. He looked everywhere but Hermione’s eyes. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Okay.”

In surprise, Harry met her eyes.

She smiled.

And that was all they said of it.

Harry eventually found Draco, crouching in their back garden and surveying over their collection of recently sprouted herbs.

“Hi—”

“The basil doesn’t need to be in this prime of a location,” Draco said, at once.

“Oh.”

“In fact, you could probably swap it with the rosemary— they usually like a bit more sun than I think the one you’ve got here is getting,” he continued. “Rosemary is Mediterranean, so that means they like pretty much all the sun they can get, but basil is tropical, so all that sun it’s currently getting might be drying it out, I think. At least, from what I remember.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “You can, er— take it over, if you’d like. I’m sure Hermione would like the reprieve.”

“Okay,” Draco said, standing back up. “I’ll talk to her.”

Harry watched as he walked stiffly past him, and, as though on instinct, couldn’t help but shoot his hand out, to grab at Draco’s thin wrist.

Draco startled, before staring back down again at Harry with those big grey eyes that Harry was getting to know so well.

“How did you sleep?” Harry asked.

Draco scanned over Harry’s face before responding. “Better.”

“Good,” Harry said, nodding. He released Draco’s wrist.

And Draco took a step inside, and Harry wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but then, just before he’d walked away entirely, Draco turned back around.

“Again, tonight?” he asked, over his shoulder, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “We ought to be thorough. For the experiment, I mean.”

And, miraculously, Draco laughed.

That night, Harry spent a good twenty minutes sitting on his bed. It was one thing to sneak into Draco’s bedroom in the middle of the night, heralded in by a nightmare, but it was another thing entirely to go off to bed with him. Like they were… like they were something else.

But ever the brave Gryffindor, Harry managed.

He crossed down the hallway, wondered briefly if Hermione ever did this with Ron, before he knocked on Draco’s door, just twice.

“Come in,” Draco said.

So Harry did.

The only light came from a flickering oil lamp on the rusted metal bedside table next to Draco’s side of the bed.

Draco’s side, Harry repeated in his head, accompanied by a weird, almost painful, thud of his heart.

Draco was holding a book between his slender fingers.

“What’re you reading?” Harry asked, as he forced himself to continue forward, climbing into bed with Draco like any part of this was normal. Like it was routine.

“A muggle book,” Draco answered. “The Great Gatsby. I found it in the cellar.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “How is it?”

“A bit sad.”

“Oh.”

Draco sighed, stuffed the ripped bit of paper he must have been using as a bookmark back inside the book, then placed the book on the bedside table. Immediately after, he blew out the lamp, sending them into a sudden darkness.

Harry lied back down, but couldn’t bring himself to pull Draco back into the position they were in last night. It was too much, he felt. He’d need Draco to do it, or else he’d never allow himself something so unbelievable.

“Potter,” Draco said, still sitting up, and not looking at him.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows. “Yeah?”

“Is this… is this part of your whole… saving-people-thing?” Draco asked.

“What?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“I heard Granger call it that, back in sixth year, after you told Pansy that you’d find a way so she wouldn’t have to go back home for Christmas… you know, after you heard about her family, and how terrified—”

“No,” Harry said, interrupting him. “I, er— I know what you’re referring to, I mean.”

“So?” Draco asked again, still not looking at him. “Is it?”

Harry paused, bit at his lip. How was he supposed to tell Draco that no, it wasn’t? It was something far, far more than that. Something that Harry might not have had the words for yet. Something that Harry wanted all to himself.

“No,” Harry finally said, after a moment.

Draco didn’t respond, continuing to stare forward.

So Harry reached his hand out, graced his fingertips along the cotton back of the t-shirt that Draco was wearing to sleep. Draco once wore silk pyjamas to bed, Harry knew, but he didn’t have them anymore. He didn’t have anything of his own, really, since he had no idea he was to be rescued, and therefore no clue to pack any sort of bag on that night that Harry and Ron had broken into Malfoy Manor like thieves, coming for his rescue.

Instead, Draco wore a combination of Harry’s and Ron’s clothing, along with some other bits and pieces they’d managed to collect in the long time they’d spent on the run. A flannel shirt Oliver Wood had forgotten to pack when he’d left, after only the one night with them. A thick heavy sweater that Lavender Brown gave to Hermione after Hermione had mentioned to her how cold the nights were getting, back in November.

A wool beanie that now had one or two holes, but that Harry still treasured deeply, because it had come from Colin Creevy, on the last time Harry had seen him before he’d been murdered in cold blood by Alecto Carrow.

Harry thought Draco might have shivered at his touch, as his fingers trailed along the ridges of Draco’s spine. Draco turned around, and Harry could only just make out his eyes in the heavy dark of the room. In the momentary silence, Harry could hear that the rain had started up again, just barely.

“Then what is this?” Draco asked.

Harry sat up fully. He placed his hand back against Draco’s cheek, and felt the warmth of his skin beneath his palm. For a moment, Draco looked at peace.

“It’s me being selfish,” Harry said, then leaned forward and kissed him.

He felt Draco gasp beneath him, and waited, unmoving, so he could allow Draco the space to choose for himself what he wanted next.

And Harry really did feel selfish, as he sat there, in the middle of all that tragedy and war, because, in that moment, he’d never felt so lucky. No, all he could feel was unbridled, selfish relief, as he felt Draco kiss him back.

Draco’s lips pressed firm against Harry’s, and Harry’s hands fell to Draco’s waist, where he pulled him in tighter, finally succumbing to something he’d always wanted and never thought he’d have, never thought he’d be lucky enough to find.

It felt like everything Harry had always dreamed it might, yet somehow more, somehow brighter, and stronger. As Draco’s lips slid against his, and as his tongue glided out, soft against Harry’s lip, Harry wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing. If he still needed to, at all.

Draco pushed him by the shoulders, until they were lying down, Draco half draped across Harry’s chest as he continued to kiss him, demanding, yet soft, almost like those fights they used to fall into like clockwork, but with the need, raw and scorching, that underscored all of them.

Harry doesn’t know how long they laid there, kissing, praying into each other’s bodies like they might never see the sun again. He felt as though they’d slipped into some pocket of time, far away from the world surrounding them. Because it no longer felt like war.

At some point, they fell asleep, Harry’s arms around Draco, holding him, enveloping him, like the promise Harry wanted to make him, that he’d never let Draco suffer again, the way Harry knew he had. It was an impossible promise, Harry knew that. But he wanted to make it all the same. He wanted to make it to Draco every night. He wanted to find a way to hold this fragile incredible thing safe in the palm of his hand.

He knew it was impossible. He knew everything around them was as temporary as the frost that lingered in the trees during the dark morning hours, before the sun rose to melt it all. Harry knew that, at any moment, he could die, he could be captured, he could finally meet the death he was famous for evading. He knew they were all living on borrowed time.

But in that moment, with Draco’s lips on his, and the feeling of Draco’s heart beating against Harry’s chest, Harry felt, for the first time in quite a while, the bright flicker of hope.

And that night, Draco didn’t have a single nightmare at all.

[fashionteahouse]

If you are still writing, can you do a story on Quil? Just something romantic or angst etc. from his perspective..idk just want to see some Quil- fluff or more your choice 😏😏

You are awesome! Thanks

yess omg ofc ! thank you so much xoxo hope you enjoy :)

eventually - quil x reader

The paper red hand made heart was almost wrinkled from the nervous grip of Quil's fingers. Looking over, wrinkling his nose, Jacob nudges Quil and speaks lowly, "She's definitely not going to like it if it's all sweaty."

Quil shoos him off. Usually, he would've came back with a smart remark, but the sight of you casually talking to a close friend of yours was making him. He just couldn't understand, he seen you around all of this time, even psyching himself up in the mirror. He practiced exactly what he was going to say to you as soon as he saw you.

The previous night, he had crafted a vibrant red heart until he thought it was as close as it could get to being perfect.

"You might as well pack it up. You've been standing there for a while. She's probably all freaked out now." Embry comments, shutting his locker.

"Would you both just shut up?" Quil finally says back, frustrated that he couldn't day dream in peace.

The bell did not save him. It alarmed him, reminding him of losing this moment of opportunity. He watched you wave goodbye to the friend you were talking to and you went on to class.

Quil used his low sharpened pencil to write the date down on the worksheet him and the class had to work on. He stared at the date, displaying the Valentine's day holiday. He raised his hand, the teacher called on him.

"May I use to the bathroom?" he asks politely.

The teacher writes him a pass and he clutches it in his hand and closes the classroom door as he makes his way to his locker. He didn't have to use the bathroom at all. An idea popped in his head. It was less intimidating this way, he didn't have to face rejection so fast this way either.

He read the bedazzled letters, still satisfied with what Valentines Day quote he wrote. It was clever. He thought you would think so too. He made sure nobody was lingering in the halls, making his way to your locker.

He didn't sign it. That's the one thing he didn't do. Sliding it into the vent of your locker, he swiftly makes his way back to class.

Walking through the halls with Jacob and Embry, they debated on what to do after school. Quil's eyes immediately land on you as you turn the lock that was hung on your locker.

"We have to walk past to hear her reaction." Quil tells his friends as they look at him quizzically. Not waiting for them, Quil leisurely walks to the water fountain that was still earshot of what came out of your mouth.

He discreetly glanced at you as you read the note in your head before a smile slowly stretches across your lips. You turn to your friend who wants to see, you both gasp. You mention your crush and how he might've noticed you finally. You both jump a bit and squeal as Quil didn't hear a hint of his name.

His shoulders didn't move from their slumped position, even at the pizza parlor that he picked to eat. Feeling pity for their friend, Embry and Jacob allowed him to pick where to go.

Sauce squeezing out of the pizza that Embry bit into, he shakes his head, moving his food to one cheek to chew.

"This one's on you dude. You should've signed it." he tells Quil.

"Imagine if I did. She would bawl it up right there." Quil says, not believing for a second that you would accept his signature.

"She's just a girl. No need to be scared." Jacob says as he folds his pizza before taking a bite.

"Right. The worst she can say is no thanks." Embry says and shrugs.

"That's the worst thing that could happen." Quil says, he barely took a bite of his own pizza. Just thinking and talking about you, brought on a flip flop feeling, feeling too excited to even eat.

Embry and Jacob both groan, almost dying for Quil to just make the first move.

Graduated caps were thrown into the air, heads with smiles tilted up at the blue sky. Quil did clap when you walked across the stage. You still didn't know the crush that he had on you, even existed.

Meeting Jacob and Embry, they shake their heads and laugh as they watch Quil walk towards them. "What?" Quil asks them.

"We graduated and everything and you still didn't make the first move." Jacob comments.

Embry holds out his phone. He was able to score a screenshot of a flyer for a graduation party that was happening. A party that you were going to attend. You were good friends with the party thrower.

Quil steps back from reading the screen and shakes his head.

"Come on, man. You're still pussyfooting around her?" Embry asks him in disbelief.

"No way." Quil says.

"How else are you going to talk to her. It's not like you're going to be seeing her everyday anymore." Jacob says, trying to reason with his friend. He wanted to go to the party more than wanting Quil to shoot his shot, but was still supportive of his desire.

Quil was antsy the entire way to the party. He didn't have much time to practice what he was going to say to you, running different sentences in his head to come up with. The beautiful blue in the sky was replaced with black skies.

Thumbing of the rhythm of the beat, blasted from the house that had people swimming in and out of it.

"Great. How will I find her now?" Quil says, catching wind of the sea of people.

"You'll find her." Jacob says and slaps a hand on Quil's shoulder before adding, "Eventually."

The three childhood friends make their way into the unfamiliar home. People that didn't even go to the school that you all went to, were also there.

Jacob and Embry try their hand at the girls who don't know them. Quil sighs to himself knowing it was up to him to make the move to see where you were. Time passed slowly, he found you, but you were always with someone.

Throwing the crushed, empty beer can in the trash, he made his way to find one of his friends. Not looking where he was going, he bumped into a figure that was smaller than him. He looks down to you holding your hands up with an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry." you both say at the same time but you chuckle after the fact. Quil just looks, not believing that you said coherent words toward him. Someone calls your name, leaving you to raise your eyebrows a bit at him before leaving to go to the person who wants you. He just stared in awe. He wanted to stay after all.

He did find Embry, what he was saying must've felt right to the girl's ear as she laughed and blushed. Embry catches Quil's eyes as he moves it to a room. Giving you a hint, telling you to go in there. He then returns his attention back to the girl who was now going into depth about something. Quil didn't know but he went in, feeling bored so far.

You were in there. Quil froze as he saw you hold a cup walking towards a sleeping figure with it's mouth open. Someone else had their camera ready as you look over to Quil.

"Close the door." you tell him excitedly but in a hushed voice. Quil quickly did what you asked him to do as he watched the cup that was filled with liquid was poured into the person who was asleep's open mouth. Snickering, the person captures the moment it's poured into their mouth, they wake up, spitting it out. You and the camera person's laughs get louder as the person who was asleep glares at the both of you.

"I'm going to kill the both of you." they say in a groggy tone.

"That's what you get for falling asleep at a party." the camera person says back.

"I'm drunk." they whine out.

"Come on, it was funny." you say while laughing. Your eyes meet Quil's, "You thought it was funny, right?" you ask him.

He nods and laughs nervously, "Yeah. I didn't know you were a prankster."

"I try." you say with a smile. Quil almost reached for sunglasses by how blinding it was.

Leaving out of the room, Quil said screw it. He came this far, he knew as soon, as you would step out of the room, you might get lost in the sea of people again.

He touched your arm, halting you as the room was only empty besides you two.

"Did you um.. Did you...um.. Like the h-heart that I put...in your locker?" He says, he then braced himself for the worst reaction to come.

"Oh my god, that was you?" you say, surprised at the question. You still had it in your bedroom. You crossed out your crush being the culprit. Finding out he was a total douche was a bit turn off.

Quil nods, not trusting his voice.

"That was.. So nice of you." you tell him sincerely.

"It was nothing. But, it meant something since it's you, you know?" Quil says.

You nod and a warm smile with a warm blush, spreads across your face. It was your turn to get nervous. You look down a bit as you wring with your fingers.

"I um.. Still have it." you confess to him. He pinched himself discreetly on the side of his leg to make sure that a morning alarm wouldn't wake him up from the dream he believed that he was having.

"You do?"

You nod as you give him a shy smile.

You laugh at the dance moves that he makes his body make. Letting your hair down, you try a shot at mustering up a goofy move to the beat. His laugh is deep from his stomach as you both have fun.

Having to meet the person who is supposed to give you a ride home, you says quick goodbye to him as you leave.

Quil was stuck. He didn't know when he would see you again. Accepting his defeat but proud of his courage, he boasts to Jacob and Embry about his experience.

He placed the money into the cash register after the person in front of him took his bags. His grandfather swept the floor of the store, keeping it crisp and clean. It seemed that's what borught the steady customers in.

Hearing the storefront bell, Quil looks up and his heart thumps one-hundred times faster. You make your way through the aisles, grabbing some microwaved popcorn and a drink.

Placing the items on the counter, you give him a smile that almost melted him on the spot.

"Hey." he speaks out softly.

"Hi..." you say, wanting him to fill in the blank.

"Quil." he answers as he keeps his hands occupied as he scans your few items.

"Hi, Quil." you say to him.

As you turned to head towards the door after telling him you don't need your receipt.

"Do you like movies?" he asked before your hand touched the door. You turn with a small smile, "Yeah, why?"

"Let's see one together." he suggests.

"Sure." you move back to the counter, pulling out your cellphone for him to dial his number. He enters it crazy fast and you make your way back home to heat up your popcorn.

"Would you sit down, you're making me dizzy." Jacob says. Quil paces back and forth in Jacob's garage, staring at his phone. The weekend was already here. Four days since he seen you at the store.

A buzz makes him stop his pacing.

"There's nothing I like at the theaters :( do you mind if we watch the movie at my place? I promise I have better selections"

His eyes grow big as he keeps rereading the digital message that you sent him.

"Yeah. I would love to!"

He types but he erases it, feeling it's too desperate of a response.

"Yeah sounds great."

His shaky hand knocked on your front door. He heard movement inside of the home. You swing the door open, revealing your comfortable lounge clothes. Moving out of the way, you allow him to step in as you close the door behind him.

You both agreed on a feel good film. Quil was frozen. You were sitting super close to him and he imagined you would be funny. Bantering back and forth, both ribs were tender from the constant laughing.

Turning the lamp on, you move to take the empty bowl of what used to be a full bowl of popcorn. You catch a glimpse of his face. A piece of popcorn is close to his mouth.

“You have something…hold on.” you tell him and brush it softly away and you get up to put the bowl in the sink.

He touched the spot that you touched. He was officially in la la land.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was getting late.” you tell him, the time seemed to move fast at that moment.

“It’s no problem. It’s summer. Are you down for another one?” he asks.

Being a night owl, you nod and sit back down. The dark ambiance made you both agree to a horror film with excited smiles on both faces.

One hand covered an eye as you leaned against Quil. You separated some of your fingers to look at the screen, but you still saw a jump scare causing you to leap a bit in your seat. Quil didn’t know how, but his arm was around you, and he relished the feeling.

“Okay. Progress.” Jacob comments when Quil bites into his sandwich after explaining his night.

“It’s about time.” Embry says and takes a swig of soda.

“I’m going to ask her out to dinner.” Quil says proudly with his arms crossed.

“A pizza parlor is not a good date spot.” Embry comes back with.

“I wasn’t going to take her there.” Quil says, but he couldn’t lie, the thought crossed his brain. Their pizza was just that good.

“It has to be something I don’t know..Classy.” Jacob says.

Quil paced his room. He was waiting for your response. He started to do unnecessary tasks around his room. Avoiding checking his phone, he kept himself busy. However, it didn’t stop him from checking the buzz of his phone.

“Yes. I could eat ;) ”

Quil’s father told him to keep it down, his whoops were loud.

“So um..What’s your favorite place to eat?” Quil asked on the line. A shaky finger answered your phone call.

“I don’t know..Let’s just go somewhere fun.” you say.

You linked your arm with Quil’s as he escorted you through the streets. Looking at the neon lights, the mouth watering smell of food made you halt him.

“We can eat here!” you say smiling. It was perfect in your eyes. Quil blew out a sigh of relief.

You placed a bright white napkin on the corner of his mouth as you chuckle, “Such a messy eater Quil.”

“Sorry. It’s so good.” Quil replies.

“We have to come back.” you say while nodding, agreeing as you take the food into your mouth.

“Come back…Together?” Quil asks in confirmation.

You playfully hit his arm while chuckling, “Of course silly. We means you and I right?”

“Right.” Quil says sheepishly. He promised to take time to thank the universe for being on his side.

Standing in front of your home, Quil holds out his arms as you step into them. Clutching him close, Quil affectionately rub your back. He secretly hoped that somehow you got stuck to him so he didn’t have to let go.

You do let go and step back and look at him. Quil looks at you. He wanted to do it before he a thought of, “I should’ve” could run through his mind.

He leans forward and plants a kiss on lips that he felt was soft. You open your eyes and smile at him before leaning up to him to plant him a kiss back on the lips.

“Will you call me?” you ask him.

He couldn’t speak. His head nodded at your question and you smile before closing the door in your home.

“I hope you didn’t slobber all over her.” Jacob says as he smashed the buttons of the controller.

“I did not. Shut up.” Quil throws back as he pressed the controller buttons harder.

Embry was out with his now girlfriend, the girl he met at the graduation party. Quil couldn’t wait to get to that point.

As soon as Quil got home, he dialed your number. Your voice was like music to his ears. It sounded amazing in person and he felt privileged to hear it through a cellular connection.

Before he knew it, you dropped a question on him.

“Can I come over this weekend? I don’t have work.” you tell him.

“Of course.” he tells you. Hanging up, he did a dance and didn’t care he looked crazy.

A knock on the door, he opened the door, seeing this beautiful person before him.

“Hey.” he greets.

You don’t say anything but give him a hug. He guides you in, “Do you want something to drink?”

You nod and accept the juice he offers. He opens the cabinets, showing off snacks. You both share a snack at the table as you both get to know each other better.

“You’re so funny.” you tell him starry eyed.

“You are too.” Quil tells you back, trying his best to keep his cool. In the inside, he was freaking out.

He leans forward and placed a kiss on the side of your mouth, you smile at this. You rub a hand over his as you gaze at him.

“What does your room look like?” you ask him. He takes your arm and guides you to his sanctuary. He was glad his parents weren’t home to embarrass him or halt his experience.

Sitting on the bed, Quil flipped through the new comic book that he purchased. The words coming out of his mouth was so adorable. He felt his heart skyrocket when you shared your knowledge of some of the characters in his book.

He sets the book down, and you grab his shoulders. He was frozen as your lips locked with him. Your tongue brushed his bottom lip and Quil opens his mouth slightly. He stops being frozen when he realizes that the person he has been dreaming of kissing was kissing him. Quil felt you take his hands and placed them on your chest. Quil’s heart skips a beat as you help move them while still deep in a kiss. He then felt you place them under the shirt, he felt your warm skin. A groan and moan escape from both lips as he lets his fingers explore the softness of your chest. Quil then felt the tightness of his pants being relieved. Stroking him gently, he had a hard time keeping his lips on yours as he made pleasant noises. He came too fast as he would like.

Quil started to feel embarrassed until he saw your smile and you told him, “There’s always next time.”

Quil didn’t tell them. He just let Jacob and Embry think that you came over and you two shared an innocent make out session. He also let them know an important fact.

“I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Quil says as he kicked a pebble that was on the sand.

Throwing the ball back to Quil, Embry says, “And what happened?”

Quil catches it and smiles, “She said we can see where it goes.”

“Don’t fuck it up Quil.” Embry says but he was happy for his friend.

“Like hell I will. My dreams are finally coming true.” Quil replies.

“Yeah. So, don’t weird her out.” Embry said and Quil throws the ball back at Embry with more force than necessary.

Later on that night, it was just Quil and you as you both walked the empty beach. The stars were bright and displayed against the dark sky. He held your hand tight as the warm wind blew in you two’s direction.

“Really?” you ask him. You couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, really.” Quil says. He just got finished explaining how he was standing in the hallway, waiting for the perfect moment to give you the heart he made you earlier that year.

“You should’ve just gave it to me.” you said while laughing. You were wondering why he was standing there that day.

“Not going to lie, I was scared.” Quil confessed. You turn and take both of his hands and give him a small but gentle peck, “You don’t have to be scared.”

Quil didn’t want anything else but this in the world. The star’s lights made you look beautiful. Quil couldn’t take his eyes away from the face that was he felt was godly. He promised to himself never make you cry or feel the terrible emotions of being mad, or hurt.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas 2023: Day 8. Rosemary for Holly | Turpin/Reader

AN: This one involves the Turpin/Reader relationship from my fic Sins of the Flesh, which involves reader becoming Turpin’s unwilling live-in whore. This scene is tame compared to the scenes I wrote for the main fic but please be aware of the noncon element of the relationship before reading!

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It was your first Christmas without your brother, and your first in Turpin’s house. Johanna had told you that he didn’t celebrate Christmas much - he had a yearly party, and he went to church on the day itself, but when it came to decorations, presents and Christmas cheer, he couldn’t be more of a Scrooge.

Her words in mind, you were caught off-guard when, on returning home after the last day of Michaelmas, Turpin summoned you to his study and presented you with a gift.

“But, sir, it’s not yet Christmas Day!” you protested. Did he expect you to give him a gift too? Surely he couldn’t - he didn’t give you an allowance, and he forbade you from working.

“Christmas Day is a holy day, darling, and I can guarantee you this gift is anything but holy - plus I simply couldn’t wait to give it to you.”

You blushed, realising his meaning, and you were both curious and frightened to know what was inside. He had threatened you on more than one occasion to obtain a pair of handcuffs from his friends in the constabulary - perhaps he was fulfilling that promise?

You pulled back the paper to reveal an oblong box, marked with wording.

“Row… sem… arry - oh, rosemary. For - holy? No, that can’t be right…”

“Holly, darling. Rosemary For Holly. Simply the name of the manufacturing company. Open it up!”

You glanced up at him, and chuckled slightly at the eager look on his face.

“Feeling impatient, sir?”

“Feeling impertinent, slut? Open it. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” you said quickly, hoping you hadn’t angered him. You opened the box and almost gasped in shock when you saw the gift inside: an object of what appeared to be ivory, crafted into the shape of a penis.

“For the days you get lonely without me,” Turpin said smugly. Did he seriously expect you to want more cock when he was away, as if the multiple times a day you took his seed weren’t enough?

“I had it crafted just for you. A good likeness, don’t you think?”

You glanced up at him, then back down at the ivory penis. “Do you mean… this is - erm - a replica?”

“Well, my cock is the only one you’ll ever know, so you might as well know it even when I’m at court. Why don’t you try it out?”

“I’m, erm… not sure what I’m supposed to do with it, sir,” you said meekly.

Turpin picked the ivory penis up from within the box and pointed it at your face. “Well, let’s start with the mouth, shall we? Open up.”

You obeyed, and almost gagged when he pushed the penis into your mouth, the cold, smooth surface a surprising contrast to the soft warmth you usually felt from Turpin’s cock.

“How does it feel?” he asked, fully aware that you couldn’t talk with a mouthful of fake cock.

“Cold,” you mumbled around the phallus, and Turpin chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose it would be. Not warm like mine, hm? That’s alright, I wouldn’t want you preferring him over me.”

He pulled the phallus back out of your mouth, and you gratefully gasped for air.

“I prefer you, sir,” you said, knowing he wanted you to agree with his compliment of himself. “But it would be an excellent tool for practise.”

“Practise?” Turpin queried with a raised eyebrow.

“So I can - um - fit you. If I can practise opening my throat with it, then I can learn to do it for you.”

Turpin looked at you curiously, then smirked. “What a clever girl you are. I hadn’t thought of that. My expectation was for you to stretch yourself out for me before I get home, but that is a good idea, isn’t it? Yes… yes, you’ll use it to train your throat and to stretch out your cunt. Then you’ll be nice and ready for whichever hole I choose. What a good girl you are, thinking of ways to please your lord.”

“I exist only to please you, sir,” you said automatically, wincing slightly as he pressed the cold tip of the phallus against your lips before trailing it across your jaw, down your neck, and down your chest to slip it between your breasts. Turpin laughed to himself when he let go of it, leaving it sticking out from your cleavage.

“There’s another function, too,” he said, his eyes still locked on your chest. He ran his finger down the shaft and pointed out a small hole halfway down. “See this hole? You fill it up with water. Then you use this” - he pulled out a plunger at the base of the phallus, where it would ordinarily connect to the man’s body - “and push it back in.” He did so, and you felt a rush of air blowing on your breasts.

“The water leaves the tip, simulating ejaculate. That’s very helpful for your clever little idea, in fact, as you can practise swallowing my seed as well. My, we are going to have fun with this, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for my gift, sir. I - I’m afraid I have nothing to give you…”

“Nonsense. You give me your body every day. I couldn’t ask for more than that. In fact, it’s the start of the Christmas holidays now, so why don’t we start off as we intend to continue?”

“How’s that, sir?” you asked, dreading the answer.

Turpin leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear, and you were consciously aware that the phallus was still in his hand.

“Why, fucking in every room of the house, of course. We do need to keep warm, after all. Why don’t we start here? I have a few fun ideas for our new friend.”

You had a dreadful feeling that the ideas were more fun for him than they were for you, but even so you agreed. You had no choice in the matter, so you might as well agree and pretend to yourself you had some semblance of choice - either way, Judge Turpin was going to stuff you full of cock, and now he had a second to use against you. You might as well try and enjoy it.

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 4 Match 15

propaganda below the cut! (massive wall of text warning)

Tracy Chapman:

"I can’t think of anything clever to say because I’m too busy sighing dreamily"

"GUYS ITS FUCKING TRACY CHAPMAN VOTE FOR HER OR ELSE ILL EAT PLAYDOUGH"

"Tracy Chapman made the best song of all time (fast car)"

"ik im the hope sandoval guy but if hope doesn't make it tracy has to she made me realize i was a lesbian i just thought i was bi then i listened to her and now im a lesbian she is powerful she is strength if you looked at her and looked at my art you would see 20 years of inspiration from one single woman"

"she's too good to commit atrocities to me but im the gore guy and you aren't for that. i would let her take out my vocal chords and use them as floss. i would have her saw down my bones to make a vinyl of her music. i would go on all fours and let her slaughter me like a pig. i want to be her cat"

"The most powerful written and performed voice of the 90s. Everyone, of any nationality or belief system, could feel the words Tracy Chapman sang. She gets her dues but deserves even more."

Stephen Malkmus:

"i can't even stand stephen malkmus but there's a very special girl out there who needs this win"

"My perpetually stoned, nonsensical girlfriend...if we don't invent the time machine soon I might die. He's like 6 ft tall so unfortunately I'd be like one of those birds that ride on giraffes and eat bugs out of their fur. And then I'd die in a weed accident during the recording of Wowee Zowee? Before that though I'd spend 25 hrs a day in bed with him. Alright thanks"

"Stephen Malkmus chronically addicted to moaning and gasping in Pavement songs like he’s getting the best dicking down of his life in the back of the tour bus while everyone else is asleep"

"This is the indie-label match, right? Then it has to be Malkmus, he *made* the scene. And he's still releasing excellent music today. He's just the most influential rockstar of the 90s."

"my gay pavement fan uncle gets out of prison tonight and he knows you ratted him out in '06. the only way to make this right is to vote for stephen"

"Pretty please vote for him, my friend loves him and he really wants him to win"

""There were times he refused to speak to his bandmates, pulling a jacket over his head and referring to himself as "the little bitch"." I have also heard him refer to himself as a brat, a queen, a primadonna, a sociopath, and a narcissist. All of these descriptors have made me want to slam him against a wall and turn his neck fun new colors."

"I mean, Pavement is THEE indie band of the 90s. The lowkey snark, Koreaaaa, so much style that it's wasted. And Malkmus is an understated cool rockstar: the hair, the face, Silver Jews! He never ever sold out. He's the 90s."

"the most beautiful man ever he looks like a gorgeous fairytale prince. he has been hot since he emerged on the scene and continues to be so as their reunion tour comes to a close. stephen forever"

"we have to consider the autism swagger. find me a pavement write up that doesn’t spend three paragraphs waxing lyrical on his inability to make eye contact. find me a YouTube comment section that doesn’t have hoards of moms swooning over his flat affect. his refusal to wear anything more formal than a flannel for the first decade of his career? genuinely culturally influential. 30 glorious years of expressionless performances. sunglasses in the dark. so many straight men falling over themselves for him they made a joke about it in the Barbie movie. raw tbh sex appeal. and he’s got a great nose"

"he had a couple of unfortunate haircuts during this period but highkey i would break both of my arms to just be able to make out with him. please vote for SM my life is in danger if you don't"

[griffin-girl-r]

Chapter 1: Department of Mysteries

—

Masterlist

Prologue

—

"Department of Mysteries," the voice announced as the lift stopped.

June 18, 1996

The teenagers didn't know what to expect as they stepped out, all frightened but putting up a brave face.

Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, was ready to stand by her best friend's side, ready to face whatever lay ahead as a true Gryffindor would do.

"This is it," Harry breathed out, forcing himself to sound brave for his friends.

They started taking small but determined steps towards the door in front of them, with Harry leading the way through the corridor.

Hermione silently walked right behind Harry. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and her hands were becoming sweaty.

"Okay, listen," Harry's voice pulled everyone out of their own thoughts as he stopped before reaching the door. "Maybe...," he hesitated. "Maybe a couple of people should stay here as a lookout and—"

Yet, he didn't get to finish his sentence as Ginny, clearly fed up with Harry's hero act, interrupted him.

Hermione chose to let her friends deal with Harry, thankful that Ginny, Neville, and Ron took the initiative to put Harry in his place.

The brunette girl took a deep breath as she watched Harry turning the knob of the door, pushing it open.

—

"Lumos!" Harry said as the tip of his wand started glowing.

"Lumos!" Hermione and Ron followed Harry's lead.

Hermione looked around, scared at the darkness surrounding her.

Here it was cold, too cold for her liking, and it made her involuntarily shiver.

Hermione wasn't sure what she expected to find, but she clearly wasn't expecting to see thousands of shelves filled up with countless crystal globes covered in dust.

She briefly looked to her left and noticed that Ron was as scared and confused as she was, and there was no doubt that Harry felt the same way.

A rumbling sound broke the eerie silence, and all six members of the Order let out a soft gasp.

The door they had just finished walking in through started moving, as the walls started rotating.

'Clever move,' Hermione thought. 'They don't want us to know which door we came in through.'

The girl slowly turned her head to look at Harry, at the same time as Ron did, and the three teenagers shared a look of concern before Harry started to speed walk through the shelves, hoping to find the same row number he saw in his vision, praying that they would arrive in time to save Sirius.

—

"You said it was row ninety-seven," Hermione whispered to Harry, waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, and she watched him lean forward to have a better look at the end of the closest row.

Hermione looked around, her mind racing a thousand miles per hour as she squinted her eyes to the next row.

"We need to go right, I think," whispered Hermione again as she tried to read the number of the row. "Yes," she mumbled once she spotted something. "That's fifty-four."

Harry quickly took off, almost running, as everyone else did the same.

—

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione whisper-shouted, being the first to spot the number they had so desperately searched for.

The bright witch watched with bated breath as Harry stretched out his hand towards a globe that Neville had pointed out to have Harry's name on its tag.

"Harry," Hermione warned sharply, as she felt something was not right about this globe. "I don't think you should touch it!"

But her warnings fell on deaf ears as Harry picked up the globe, ignoring her.

She internally rolled her eyes in annoyance at Harry's behavior, but her attention quickly turned to the small bluish globe that suddenly lit up when her friend held it.

She couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

The silence that enveloped this mysterious room was too weird.

And just then, from the corner of her eye, Hermione caught some movement and she knew that what she feared was true.

Everything was a trap.

"Harry!" She urgently called her friend, pulling him out of his trance.

Harry immediately lunged forward, putting himself in between the imminent danger and his friends.

"Where's Sirius?" Hermione heard Harry demand.

"You know..." A deep voice echoed in the silence, making Hermione sharply turn her head towards the masked Death Eater that kept getting dangerously too close to them. "You should really learn to make the difference between dreams," The figure clothed in black, its face hidden by a mask, finally stopped, only to pull out a wand and with a wave, reveal itself to them. "And reality. You only saw what the Dark Lord wanted you to see."

Hermione allowed a soft gasp to escape her lips.

The Death Eater in front of them was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

The teenagers stiffened their shoulders, their shaky hands tightly gripping their wands.

"Now hand me the prophecy," demanded the old Malfoy.

"You do anything to us and I'll break it!" Harry threatened, hoping that this would buy them enough time to devise a plan.

Suddenly, a sickening, sweet voice, filled with evil intentions, laughed.

"He knows how to play!" Laughed the female voice. "Itsy-Bitty... Baby." The figure stepped out of the darkness, her steps accompanied by the sounds of heels. "Potter!" She finished in a mocking tone.

Hermione didn't like how insanely sweet that voice sounded and the girl felt her blood freeze in her veins as she recognized the face in front of them from the Daily Prophet, yet she still took a moment to have a good look at the woman's features.

She had long, jet-black hair with untamed curls, adding to her appearance that made her look insane. Her skull-like face did little to betray the spark of life in her dark eyes. It was as if the Dark Lord had raised her from the dead to serve him, but Hermione knew it was more than that, as her pale skin was a stark contrast to her crimson red lips.

Despite her thin, Azkaban-shaped physique, Hermione could easily imagine this woman as a stunning beauty in her youthful years.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Neville growled, moving forward from behind Hermione's back.

The shock on his face was clear as day, even in the dimness of the room, upon seeing Bellatrix Lestrange standing before him in the flesh.

"Neville Longbottom, is it?" Bellatrix faked curiosity as if she didn't already know who he is. "How's Mum and Dad?" She asked, a sadistic smile appearing on her face.

It was as if she took pleasure in tormenting the poor boy who lost his parents because of Bellatrix.

And in Bellatrix's eyes, Hermione saw the fire of hate and anger burning deep within them.

Hermione couldn't comprehend why Bellatrix hated Neville so much.

"Better now that they're about to be avenged," Hermione heard Neville growl again as the Longbottom boy lifted his wand, ready to attack.

But before things could escalate further, Harry was quick to hold Neville back, as Lucius did the same with Bellatrix.

Harry pushed Neville back, and as he did, his right foot stepped on Hermione's toes.

"Ah..." Hermione sharply took a breath in, looking down at her foot before leaning closer to Harry. "What?" She quietly questioned her friend.

"Now, let's everybody just calm down," Lucius raised his arms, trying to calm the tense atmosphere. "Shall we? All we want is that prophecy."

"What?" Urged Hermione before Lucius could finish his speech.

"Why did Voldemort need me to come and get this?" Harry inquired, pretending he hadn't heard Hermione.

"You dare speak his name?" Gasped Bellatrix. "You filthy half-blood!" She shouted, making Hermione flinch.

'There's no doubt she's insane,' Hermione internally chuckled, keeping her thoughts to herself.

"It's alright," Lucius once again tried to maintain some semblance of peace. "He's just a curious lad," he said, looking Harry dead in the eyes. "Aren't you?"

Harry turned his head, pretending to avoid Lucius' gaze. "Smash shelves..." he hissed.

Hermione's eyes widened as she understood the message.

"When I say go..." Harry continued, careful not to reveal what he was doing to the Death Eaters.

"Prophecies can only be retrieved by those whom they are made," the elder Malfoy continued, interrupting Harry, "which is lucky for you, really."

Hermione took advantage of the distraction provided by Lucius' speech as she turned to the person on her right, who happened to be Ginny, to pass down the message.

"Smash shelves when Harry says to," Hermione whispered to Ginny, making a sign with her hand for her to pass down the message to the rest, to which Ginny answered with a short nod.

"Haven't you always wondered what was the reason for the connection between you and the Dark Lord, hm?" hummed Lucius.

Hermione slightly jumped, scared, when from different sides, more masked Death Eaters stepped out of the shadows.

They were being circled, with no way to escape.

She should have guessed that they wouldn't leave this place without a fight.

'Wonderful,' she thought, trying to distract herself from the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

She scanned their surroundings, quickly trying to come up with a plan to escape.

Hermione didn't hear the rest of the conversation between Lucius and Harry, her mind focused on the possible outcomes as the Death Eater in front of her kept getting dangerously too close to her.

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, awaiting Harry's signal.

And just then, Harry's yell reached her ears.

"Now!" shouted Potter.

"Reducto!" Hermione yelled, her hand reflexively shooting the spell towards a shelf.

"Run!" yelled Harry again, and they all took off running as the shelves started to collapse.

The next moments were a chaotic blur for Hermione as she and her friends tried to avoid falling shelves and crystal globes from hitting their heads.

She cast spells left and right, only registering a frightened "Stupefy!" she shouted when she saw a Death Eater grabbing Harry's shoulder.

Next thing she knew, the brunette witch was falling 20 feet through the air, while the screams of her friends filled her ears.

"Arresto Momentum!" Hermione screamed, waving her wand through the air.

Then, she felt her body coming to an abrupt stop right before hitting the ground.

She let out a grunt when she was finally dropped face-forward but at the same time, she let out a long sigh of relief.

She was thankful that her quick thinking saved her life and her friends' lives.

Again.

She looked around, allowing her heightened senses to calm down for the moment, as she confusedly assimilated her surroundings.

Hermione's frown only deepened when she heard Harry mumble something as he started to walk towards a weird stone archway that was so conveniently placed in the middle of the room.

"Careful!" warned Hermione in a hushed whisper.

She was afraid this was another trick of the Death Eaters to get their hands on Harry's prophecy.

"Let's go," she urged again when she saw Harry ignoring her warnings. "This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go..."

She followed him up the archway's stairs, stopping halfway, too scared to continue.

Yet Harry showed no signs of listening to her.

'He couldn't be that stupid, could he?'

"Harry, let's go, okay?" she kept pleading with him, fear overwhelming her instinct to go there and grab him by his hand and drag him away from there.

"Okay," the boy finally agreed.

Hermione exhaled relieved, but her relief was short-lived when Harry made no move to walk away from the archway.

It was as if he could hear and see something she couldn't, and Merlin, that was annoying.

"What are you saying?" Harry asked loudly, his gaze not leaving the archway.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" Hermione had enough of this silly game of Harry's.

She pushed aside any lingering fear she might have had and moved towards him.

Harry's claiming of hearing whispers coming from the archway was concerning, to say the least, and it was creeping Hermione out.

"I can hear them too," Luna agreed with Harry, "there are people in there."

'You can't be serious!' Hermione thought annoyed, desperate to find a way to get Harry and Luna back in their right minds. 'That if they ever were in their right mind!' Hermione mentally added.

"What do you mean 'in there'?" Hermione angrily demanded, too sick of this. "There isn't any 'in there', it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there — Harry, stop it, come away —"

With one swift move, she grabbed his arm, surprised to feel him resist her, not budging to move a single inch.

"Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!" she used Sirius as a last resource.

And she was pleased to notice that the mention of Sirius had sparked something inside of Harry as he said, "Let's go."

She must have relaxed too soon because, out of nowhere, a black fog enveloped them, and she heard the unmistakable laugh of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione tried to fight against the fog, she really did, but when a whisper was heard, she froze in fear, unable to think of at least one spell to defend herself.

"You're next, Mudblood." The voice of Bellatrix whispered in her ear, making Hermione shiver.

—

Hermione found herself on her knees on the cold, stone floor, a hand tangled in her curls.

The young witch let out a whimper as she tried to move her head and free herself from what she guessed was the grip of a Death Eater but stopped when pain darted through her skull.

She was terrified, she isn't going to lie.

Her eyes scanned the scene that was unfolding while tiny whimpers escaped her lips, and she saw all of her friends, except Harry, were held in place by a Death Eater, unable to interfere with what was happening between Harry and Lucius.

Hermione had no choice but to watch with widened eyes the chaos unfolding as Sirius showed up out of nowhere just to punch that greasy-haired Malfoy, Aurors appearing as well to save them, and the prophecy getting smashed.

Hermione's breath came out in short ranges as she fearlessly threw herself into the fight that was unfolding.

Right after dodging a "Crucio!" casted by Bellatrix in her direction, she spotted Harry and Neville fighting side by side, having some troubles.

"Crazy witch," Hermione mumbled as she ran towards her male friends. "Stupefy!" she shouted, finally catching up with the two boys, the red jet of light hitting a Death Eater.

Spells and curses were flying in all directions, but the Muggle-born girl tried to ignore it, letting it be just background noise for her ears.

"Impedimenta!" a triumphant cry echoed, and Hermione felt herself being knocked off her feet backwards.

She groaned in pain as she tried to regain her bearings, the safety of Harry and Neville filling her mind before her own.

"We got him!" a man yelled, pulling Hermione out of her confused state.

She turned her head towards the voice, her eyes growing wider as she saw a Death Eater grabbing a disoriented Harry by his jacket.

"Silencio!" Hermione shouted desperately.

Luckily, Harry recovered quickly enough and was able to shout a "Petrificus Totalus!" at another Death Eater that was approaching him.

Hermione's heart filled with pride for Harry's fast reaction.

"Well done, Ha—"

Hermione stopped.

It was as if her heart stopped beating.

A purple light passed through her chest before dissipating into thin air.

The air left her lungs, but as she started losing her balance, she let out a single, weak sound.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, surprise flowling in her voice.

She did not expect this at all.

The girl started to fall forward, the world around her growing darker with each spin of her vision.

Was this how her end looked like?

Was this going to be the way she died?

Who would tell her parents she died in a magical fight?

Hermione didn't feel the stone floor as she hit it, but she did hear one last cry before closing her eyes, her cheek resting against the ground, yet her mind did not recognize whose voice it was.

"Hermione!"

—

@theunchosenonee

[alienaiver]

Released

Howard Link x gn!reader

“I grieved you.” you let out, all your emotions clawing their way out of your body in strained convulsions and shaky breaths.

“I know.”

He repeats it, several times as he tries to comfort you with his touch. The hand by his chest is still clenched and it takes monumental effort to release the tension and spread out your fingers. You let them travel up past his collarbone, his throat – taking a pause by his pulse point. You need to feel it with more parts of your body – until it finally reaches his jaw, his cheek. His skin is still as soft as it’s always been, showing no signs of decay.

warnings: spoilers for chapter 247 of the manga, mentions of death and grieving wordcount: 1.6k content: angst turns fluff, sfw, hurt/comfort, happy ending, genderneutral reader, bodypositive and poc friendly reader, no use of y/n, canon compliant, not beta’d, ive put reader in as a links lover from before he “passed” and just learning that hes back and alive in the recent chapter so their reunion basically, links makes my brain go brrrr like my freezer after ive taken out an ice cream,

notes: I RUSHED TO WRITE THIS AFTER CHAPTER 247 HELLO?????? DID U SEE ALL LINKS BEAUTIFUL SMILES?!??!?! reader’s role isnt described as neither exorcist or science member or nurse so you choose, honestly i cant say much abt this work except that i just wanted to kiss link.,......... <3 and get this scenario out of my beautiful head bcos it has been ROTATING

When Kanda makes the announcement, you immediately latch onto his choice of words, following his eyes to where they’ve trailed to the window.

And there he shows up. The man you’ve been grieving for months now.

You freeze and air gets hard to breathe. It’s like there’s no oxygen around you as your throat constricts and lungs burn. What? How?

Allen reacts first, opening the door and looking at him. Howard Link’s pose is incredibly relaxed and a smile you rarely saw appear on his face is so casually planted there that you almost want to drag out your weapon to make sure this isn’t an Akuma or some kind of clever disguise puppeteered by Leverrier.

But Allen’s eye doesn’t react. He simply runs to him and you gasp when they almost fall off of the balcony.

You stay behind as they all converge closer to him, your hand still wrapped around the handle of the measly dagger that Tiedoll gave to you when you first joined him going rogue from the Order, “to protect yourself.” He’d said.

You help Tiedoll prepare the food, anything to not be close to him right now as you try to process that he’s there, alive. You’re not sure he saw you before you sneaked to the kitchen but knowing him and his skills, he’s most likely seen you before he even approached on Kanda’s behest.

You don’t look at him all through the food and the talk, staying focused on eating and listening to all the information that Allen is giving out. You flinch at the mention of Link being targeted and killed again, tensing up through your entire spine, swallowing your bite thickly and schooling your expression as best as you’re able.

At his confession you audibly gasp and can’t stop your eyes from looking directly at him before it’s too late. You’re overwhelmed by the radiant smile he gives off. It’s like your heart is beating again for the first time since it stopped beating the day he passed away. He catches your gaze immediately, as if waiting for your eyes to finally look at him. You feel heat in your cheeks as he holds it, though you can tell that he’s not looking at you anymore, but through you.

He's only pulled back when Allen pinches his nose. You can’t help but laugh – their antics back to what they used to be. When food is finished, you make Kanda help you clean up. He huffs and puffs but relents in the end, stacking plates and leftovers expertly in his arms. In the kitchen he grunts at you, “I won’t get involved.” He states and you look at him with question marks in your eyes, head tilted. He pouts at your obliviousness with furrowed brows, “talk to the fuckin’ dog.”

Then he leaves you to dry the last dishes he finished washing, the door closing behind him and leaving you alone for the first time since finding out that Link is very much alive and well.

Your hand clenches around the plate in your hands. You’ve seen four new expressions on his face you’d never been graced with before in the span of an hour. Your eyes can tell that it’s him but your heart wavers. You fear you don’t know the man outside with the face of the man you love.

  When you reemerge back in the living room, a hush falls over them all. It’s so obvious that it’s painful and you feel like you’re suffocating. Maybe you are.

 Link then gets up from his seat on the floor, dusting off his pants before he clears his throat. He then gathers his courage and looks at you and says your name for the first time. your breath hitches and you can only manage a meekly nod when he nods towards one of the rooms to the sides, his eyes begging for you to go with him and talk.

Allen says something that you don’t catch as you walk in through the door, your hand tracing the door frame before Link closes the door behind you.

None of you say anything for longer than you can count. Your eyes are locked on his chest and how it rises up and down with each breath he takes. They’re leveled and controlled, but they confirm that he’s alive. He’s really here with oxygen in his lungs and a beating heart. Your hands clench into fists by your side.

His breathing pattern changes, telling you he’s about to say something. You bite your underlip and raise your gaze to look directly at him – he flinches but remains posed. Out of your peripheral vision you see his fist clench and unclench, reaching out towards you before retracting again. He then wills himself to relax and smile at you.

This is the fifth expression you’ve never seen on his face. It suits him, but that’s not what you’re focusing on, your eyes locked to the way his lips move, tasting his words before he lets them out in the open.

You can’t take this. Your heart is beating rapidly, your hands and your back is sweaty from the strain of all your emotions and the way you clench your jaw is starting to hurt. In frustration you lift your fist to punch him and as it stands high in the air, you catch his gaze – his smile widens. That stupid, handsome smile. Your hand collides with his chest in a much slower and gentler pace than what you first intended and you instantly feel his body heat traveling to you and you sigh, biting the inner part of your cheek before your head follows your hand towards him and rests on his chest. A sob is threatening to leave you but you inhale deeply instead.

Not many moments pass before he wraps his arms around you, his head resting on the crown of your head. Without embarrassment he noses your head and breathes in your scent, hugging you tighter to him. He seems to relax much more now that you’re touching him.

You’re not. Your spine is locked and you’re rigid in his embrace, refusing to take in the scent of him, the feel of him. He died.

The sob that’s been lodged in your throat since you saw him on the balcony finally breaks free and all the muscles that you’d tensed up spasm before they relax. He coos at you and rubs gentle circles into the small of your back.

You move your head from his chest and towards his neck, your lips ghosting over his pulse point. You’re so close that you can feel it beating against your lips and the first tear roll down your cheek, wetting your lips. If he feels the wetness on his skin, he doesn’t say anything.

You whimper softly before you finally push yourself closer to him, your lips pressing into his skin, arms wrapping around him, clenching his shirt as if your life depended on it.

“I grieved you.” you let out, all your emotions clawing their way out of your body in strained convulsions and shaky breaths.

“I know.”

He repeats it, several times as he tries to comfort you with his touch. The hand by his chest is still clenched and it takes monumental effort to release the tension and spread out your fingers. You let them travel up past his collarbone, his throat – taking a pause by his pulse point. You need to feel it with more parts of your body – until it finally reaches his jaw, his cheek. His skin is still as soft as it’s always been, showing no signs of decay. They’re warm, like the rest of him. He’s always been a furnace. He pulls his head away from the top of yours and finally, finally locks his lips with yours.

Your breath hitches at the moment of contact and you stand frozen, eyes still open to be sure he’s real and doing this. His own eyes are closed and his brow is relaxed. The kiss is featherlight, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed this touch. You close your eyes and relax as much as you’re able. It’s only when you push further into him that he redoubles his efforts and pulls you impossibly closer, a whine escaping his throat as he continues to kiss you.

He’s here, he’s alive and he’s kissing you like it’s the only thing he’s been thinking of since he came back from the dead. You chance a look at him again and see how his brows has furrowed. He’s frustrated he can’t be closer to you than this right now and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from deep within you, a place you’d thought had withered and rotted. Happiness blooms in you as his hands travel up to caress your cheeks.

This is the Howard Link that you knew, you know this now.

It’s just Howard Link without the chains binding him, the one able to express his wants more clearly than when he was shackled and controlled by another will than his own. This is the man that you love, finally able to do what he wants, to love who he wants without the heavy weight of guilt looming over every kiss, every chance meeting at the library, every cake secretly baked with you in mind.

Howard Link feels freer to make his own choices than he’s ever been, and he’s choosing to side with you. You smile into his lips before you run your hand through his hair, messing with his braid. He pulls away and with a breathless chuckle says your name. You hands travel to his nape with a warm smile, "welcome back."

[u3pxx]

yooo i didn’t know you were playing dgs2! how far are you and what do you think so far? :o

oh god, it's been such a long time! i was playing it with some of my friends long ago and i'm afraid we're stuck somewhere in the middle of the first case and we haven't been able to continue bc of our wildly different schedules 😔

i am enjoying the first case a LOT though, i love the immediate focus on susato (i love the ryutaro disguise I LOVE HER it's such a funny contrast to see someone like her who's usually calm and knowledgeable about the law as co-counsel be as much of a nervous wreck like ryuunoske was when she's the one leading lolll [ALSO HER SPRITES! her eyes darting everywhere is so charming and funny])

i think it's a clever way to ease us in a tutorial again without like having ryuunosuke or susato be like oh no! i have amnesia! and/or i forgot how the law works for no reason! she needs help because she's so NERVOUS her mind blanks and man, isn't that real pfttt

and i also really like who the victim was in this case (which did make me gasp out loud when i saw the opening cutscene bc i did not expect that frankly.) i feel like they're building up to a bigger reveal/story and i'm excited bc ohhh that person killed an important character in the first case and now that they're dead we're never gonna know their true motives... for now! (it's actually also been a while since i played the first game and i can't remember if there was any mention of the victim of 2-1's motive on that one ASKSKS)

I LOVE REI I LOVE HERRRR such a strong personality, best friend energy off the charts, unashamedly in love with her best friend what more could you ask for

ok the things i want to say are escaping me bc im pretty sleepy FDGHD but i just remembered when i finally got what the pun was in rei membami (it wasn't even in our own let's play i was watching an lp on youtube lol) i had to get up and leave bc fuck off localization team don't ever speak to me again /lh ASKSKDGHJD

dont know much about menimemo yet bc i think we stopped in his 2nd testimony maybe but also fuck off with his name pun DFGHJD

[esther-dot]

I really annoyed by You know nothing, Jon Snow quote. Yes he didn't know about Wildlings culture before he went there as undercover. But that doesn't mean that Jon is fully unaware. Besides this quote can apply to Ygritte too as she herself don't know thing other than Wildlings. I hate that people put her as some kind of role model for Jon.

It is an insulting thing to say, isn’t it? It feels like Ygritte is constantly accusing him of being stupid when he simply had no exposure, no way of knowing what she knew about her people and way of life. And, you’re right, he does make an effort to understand her perspective, chooses to evolve his worldview while she soundly, violently at times, rejects his. If we want to feel better about it, I think I can argue that some of the repetitions highlight wonderful things about Jon, and criticize Ygritte:

"Why are you weeping?" Jon asked. "It was only a song. There are hundreds of giants, I've just seen them."

"Oh, hundreds," she said furiously. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. (ASOS, Jon II)

Jon seems painfully naïve here, but like the good-hearted kid he is, he tries to set himself right:

"I … my lord, the men would never … giants eat human flesh, I think … no, my lord, I thank you, but I do not have the men to watch over such a creature, he …"

Jon Snow was unsurprised. "As you wish. We will keep the giant here." Truth be told, he would have been loath to part with Wun Wun. You know nothing, Jon Snow, Ygritte might say, but Jon spoke with the giant whenever he could, through Leathers or one of the free folk they had brought back from the grove, and was learning much and more about his people and their history. He only wished that Sam were here to write the stories down.

That was not to say that he was blind to the danger Wun Wun represented. The giant would lash out violently when threatened, and those huge hands were strong enough to rip a man apart. He reminded Jon of Hodor. Hodor twice as big, twice as strong, and half as clever. There's a thought to sober even Septon Cellador. But if Tormund has giants with him, Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun may help us treat with them. (ADWD, Jon VIII)

He learns about the land, tunnels that go under the Wall (ASOS, Jon III), he has sex for the first time (ASOS, Jon III), Ygritte tells him about stealing and he rejects the notion that he stole her, their conflict of worldviews playing out in their interpersonal dynamics (ASOS, Jon III; Jon V), and then it comes up in the context of their relationship, Jon’s feelings, knowing himself and what he wants:

"We should." Her breasts bounced as she stood on one leg to pull one boot, then hopped onto her other foot to attend to the other. Her nipples were wide pink circles. "You as well," Ygritte said as she yanked down her sheepskin breeches. "If you want to look you have to show. You know nothing, Jon Snow."

"I know I want you," he heard himself say, all his vows and all his honor forgotten. She stood before him naked as her name day, and he was as hard as the rock around them. He had been in her half a hundred times by now, but always beneath the furs, with others all around them. He had never seen how beautiful she was. Her legs were skinny but well muscled, the hair at the juncture of her thighs a brighter red than that on her head. Does that make it even luckier? He pulled her close. "I love the smell of you," he said. "I love your red hair. I love your mouth, and the way you kiss me. I love your smile. I love your teats." He kissed them, one and then the other. "I love your skinny legs, and what's between them." He knelt to kiss her there, lightly on her mound at first, but Ygritte moved her legs apart a little, and he saw the pink inside and kissed that as well, and tasted her. She gave a little gasp. "If you love me all so much, why are you still dressed?" she whispered. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. Noth—oh. Oh. OHHH." (ASOS, Jon III)

Interestingly, Ygritte uses as a deflection, not acknowledging her own feelings/vulnerability,

"The worst is behind us." Jon tried to sound confident. "Don't be frightened." He tried to put an arm around her.

Ygritte slammed the heel of her hand into his chest, so hard it stung even through his layers of wool, mail, and boiled leather. "I wasn't frightened. You know nothing, Jon Snow."

"Why are you crying, then?" (ASOS, Jon IV)

It is even used to highlight that in some things, Jon knows better, and it is Ygritte who was naïve, stubbornly refusing to accept reality,

It was a fine brave boast, but it rang hollow. Jon glanced back to make certain the Magnar was not in earshot. Errok, Big Boil, and Hempen Dan were walking a few yards behind them, but paying no attention. Big Boil was complaining of his arse. "Ygritte," he said in a low voice, "Mance cannot win this war."

"He can!" she insisted. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. You have never seen the free folk fight!"

Wildlings fought like heroes or demons, depending on who you talked to, but it came down to the same thing in the end. They fight with reckless courage, every man out for glory. "I don't doubt that you're all very brave, but when it comes to battle, discipline beats valor every time. In the end Mance will fail as all the Kings-beyond-the-Wall have failed before him. And when he does, you'll die. All of you." (ASOS, Jon V)

"We'll go back to the cave," he said. "You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not."

"Oh." Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying. (ASOS, Jon VII)

It's an interesting progression, or, more accurately, as Jon has been right about a few things all along during their relationship, a continual undermining of Ygritte’s dismissal of what Jon does know.

He keeps thinking the phrase after her death, so we haven't escaped it yet, but sometimes it's paired with the idea that he has learned (ADWD, Jon I; ADWD, Jon VII). Sadly, it also comes up as self-doubt, self-recrimination, with a deep sense of hopelessness. It definitely is grating if you aren’t a fan of Ygritte, but some of its appearances are interesting if you can see past that, and think of the positive things it says about Jon.

[kindnessinsilver]

Andreil - Touch - The Foxhole Court

Notes

Some of the touches are separated or not based on editor’s discretion. If Andrew keeps his hands on Neil, it stays one. If he intentionally moves to be touching Neil more than he was, or if he pushes Neil away and gets into his space again, that’s two. In the car, the elbow and resting on Neil are separate because Andrew isn’t conscious for the elbow.

If you saw my original post on this, I definitely said 19 times. Don’t worry, I just can’t count. I caught a couple extra moments as I was going through and fleshing this out.

There are some incidental places where Neil theoretically touches Andrew, mostly when Andrew is hurting him or bothering him. I just don’t feel like counting those in the same way.

Andrew Touches Neil

Chapter One 1

He was halfway through the locker room when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone waiting for him in the lounge between him and the front door. Light glinted off a bright yellow racquet as the stranger took a swing, and Neil was going too fast to stop. Wood slammed into his gut hard enough to crush his lungs into his spine. He didn't remember falling, but suddenly he was on his hands and knees, scrabbling ineffectually at the floor as he tried to breathe. He'd puke if he could only manage that first gasp, but his body refused to cooperate. The buzzing in his ears was Wymack's furious voice, but he sounded a thousand miles away. "God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can't have nice things." "Oh, Coach," someone said over Neil's head. "If he was nice, he wouldn't be any use to us, would he?" "He's no use to us if you break him." "You'd rather I let him go? Put a band-aid on him and he'll be good as new."

Chapter Two 2

“I don't need to be persuasive," Andrew said, putting a hand to Neil's chest as the elevator slowed to a stop. "You'll just learn to do what I say." The doors slid open behind Neil. As soon as they’d parted enough Andrew gave Neil a small push. Neil tripped backward into the lobby.

3

Andrew shoved past him, bumping him from shoulder to hip, and headed for the door.

Chapter Four

4

Andrew left the goal to meet him but stopped with one foot on Neil’s racquet. Neil tried to pull it out from under him, but he didn’t have the strength. He was even less successful in his attempt to push Andrew off, and that hurt so much his vision crackled black. “Get off my racquet.” “Make me?” Andrew said, spreading his arms in invitation. “Try, anyway.” “Don’t tempt me.” “Such fierce words from such a little creature,” Andrew said. “You’re not very bright. Typical of a jock.” “Hypocrite,” Neil said. Andrew gave him a thumbs-up and pushed past Neil. Neil tried to catch himself before he tipped over, but his hand wouldn’t hold his weight. He fell flat on his back and didn’t even try to get up.

Chapter Six 5

“You waited for us,” Andrew said with feigned surprise. “A liar who practices occasional honesty. Clever. Keeps people guessing. Very effective. I would know. I do it myself, you see. Come on, then. After you.” Neil climbed into the backseat. Andrew followed him in, sandwiching Neil between him and his brother. Nicky already had the engine going. As soon as Andrew yanked his door shut Nickey peeled out of ther like he wanted to take the asphalt with him. Neil automatically reached for his seatbelt, but one of the brothers was sitting on it. Andrew sprawled against his side. "After everything we've done for you, you have to start a fight with us. For shame, Neil."

Chapter Seven 6

Neil couldn't leave with Andrew in the way, so he stopped as close to Andrew as he dared and waited for Andrew to move. Andrew did, but only to reach out for Neil with one hand. Neil tensed as Andrew's fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, but Andrew only wanted to pull Neil's head down. Neil focused on Andrew's cheekbone so as not to go cross-eyed and let Andrew study his eyes.

7

“Wake Andrew up, will you? Preferably without touching him.” “What?” Aaron asked sleepily, rousing at Nicky’s voice. “I can’t remember which exit we decided was the shortcut. You?” Aaron answered by reaching around Neil and pushing Andrew's shoulder. Andrew's reaction was immediate and violent. Aaron got his hand out of the way in time, but there was nowhere for Neil to go. Andrew's elbow slammed into his diaphragm hard enough to double Neil up over his knees. Aaron, completely unsympathetic, snapped his fingers over Neil's head at Andrew.

8

Andrew braced himself on Neil's back and leveraged himself between the front seats. He watched until they passed a sign and said, “Not yet. It’s the exit that has Waffle House.” “This is South Carolina,” Nicky said. “Every exit leads to Waffle House. Still breathing, Neil?” “Yes,” Neil said hoarsely. “I think.” Andrew dropped back into his seat and let go of Neil.

9

His sodas had tasted sweet, but this shot was almost unbearably so, and the aftertaste on Neil’s tongue wasn’t sugar. Neil lurched to his feet, but Andrew grabbed him by his hair and slammed him back into his seat. A cruel twist pulled his head back at a dangerous angle, and Andrew slammed Neil's hand flat against the tabletop. Neil lifted his other hand to pry Andrew's fingers off, but Nicky caught his wrist.

10

Neil wrenched his hand out from under Andrew’s, but Andrew gave his head a warning yank. A bolt of heat went down Neil’s neck. Neil hissed in pain and went still. Andrew slid out of his chair and leaned against Neil, letting Neil take his weight while he checked Neil's eyes.

Chapter Eight 11

Andrew reached up and forcibly uncurled Neil's fingers from his mouth. He pushed Neil's hand out of the way and stared Neil down with nothing between them.  Neil didn’t understand the look on his face. There was no censure over Neil’s crooked parents or pity for their deaths, no triumph over having backed Neil into admitting so much, and no obvious skepticism for such an outlandish story. Whatever this look was, it was dark and intense enough to swallow Neil whole.

Chapter Thirteen 12

It's fine, Coach," Andrew said, catching up to them. He touched Neil's back on his way by, fingers light enough to give Neil goose bumps, but didn't slow on his way to Kevin's side. He pressed a hand to Abby's arm in a silent demand for her to back off. "Kevin, we're going. Right now, okay?"

13

Neil was lightheaded with nausea. "Shut up." "What will you do when he finds out? Run?" "You know I will." "I know," Andrew agreed. "I can see it. You've got that look in your eye that says you know where every exit to this dormitory is." Neil turned away, but Andrew was faster. He rocked forward and grabbed Neil's collar, dragging him to a halt before he could leave. He left sticky blood on the back of Neil's neck from his messy fingers. Neil reached back and tried to pry him off, but Andrew refused to let go.

Chapter Fourteen 14

“Oh, he made it,” Andrew said. “That’s interesting.” He pressed two fingers to Neil’s throat, checking his pulse. When Neil tried to bat him away, Andrew caught his wrist with his free hand. His smile was small and fierce as he leaned forward into Neil’s space. “Remember this feeling. This is the moment you stop being the rabbit.” Neil was too startled to answer, but Andrew didn't wait. He slid past Neil, using the weight of his body and his grip on Neil's wrist to pull Neil with him out of the way of the door. He let go in the middle of the hallway and slipped his hands in his pockets to wait.

15

Andrew nudged Neil with his elbow and said in German, "Hey, Neil. Isn't that amazing? Isn't that touching? Look how they weep over you. Ah, such misplaced concern. Tell them you can take care of yourself."

16

Andrew turned to face him. Neil wasn't expecting it and almost ran into him. Andrew dug his fingertip into the hollow of Neil's throat in warning. This close Neil could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on him. It made him think of his mother burning to ashes on the beach. He reached out without thinking and took Andrew's cigarette away. For some reason Andrew let him keep it.

17

Neil said nothing. Andrew hooked his fingers in the collar of Neil's shirt and tugged just enough for Neil to feel it. "I know what I'm doing. I knew what I was agreeing to when I took Kevin's side. I knew what it could cost us and how far I'd have to go. Understand? You aren't going anywhere. You're staying here."

18

Andrew didn't let go until Neil nodded, and then he reached for Neil's hand. He took his cigarette back, put it between his lips, and pressed a warm key into Neil's empty palm.

Neil Touches Andrew

Chapter Fourteen 1

A group of people shouldered their way up to the bar counter at Neil's back, pushing him into Andrew. Andrew didn't budge beneath his weight. He was something solid to lean against, something violent and fierce and unmoving. Neil couldn't remember what it felt like to have someone hold him up. It was terrifying and liberating all at once. His life was out of his control now; he was giving it to Andrew and hoping Andrew would keep it safe.

[itlivesproject]

hey pals!! i’ve been really unlucky recently lmao i’m sick this week, so yet again the chapter release has made my day!! let’s just get into it:

i am so nervous to see everyone’s reactions 😧😧

connor being upset is completely understandable but MAN it hurts

abel’s first instinct being to ask if she’s hungry rather than showing any animosity towards her is the sweetest

“being made of different stuff than i am won’t change the way i feel about you” the RELIEF the just flooded through me

“you’re always going to be my rowan” GUYS I AM IN TEARS

moss is the cutest addition to the crew and i love him with my whole heart

NOAH!!! HE IS PHYSICALLY RIGHT THERE!! AND SPEAKING TO US!!!!

ANDY????? OH MY GOD REUNION TIME

oh shit noah had the eyes

that scene with noah where you can play as devon is beautiful, thank you to whoever wrote it because you are phenomenal

DAN :)

that dan scene is very special to me💓

GUNNOR ISNT JUST A FUNNY DISCORD ICON??? I- THE GASP THAT JUST RIPPED THROUGH MY BODY

HIS EYES TOO

I SAW A THEORY ABOUT THIS - IT’S FROM WHEN HE FELL IN THE LAKE RIGHT??? (i am very sorry i can’t remember the name of the account who first suggested this😕)

good grief i am literally fighting for my life against someone i have a crush on CONNOR PLS

AMALIA MY LOVE MY BEST FRIEND MY SAVIOUR

i cannot believe you’ve done this to us. my heart hurts. (but i love you, you incredible storytellers)

i am so excited to see where you take this, i love you all you are just the most clever people ever :)

-abel simp anon <3

All your reactions are amazing but the biggest reveal here is that YOU’RE IN THE DISCORD??? Who are you 👀👀 gjdjdkdk

[enkisstories]

Mutiny on the Steadfast - a Star Wars story

I just posted chapter 7 of Mutiny on the Steadfast. Recap: The First Order brainwashed Poe Dameron into thinking is one of their officers, Rose and Finn are captured on the Steadfast and Hux, who came up with the brainwashing plan in the first place, is on parole after his treason.

I'm going to post the chapter in two parts on this blog, too.

Chapter 7, Part 2, sees Hux interact with Rose and Finn in unexpected ways.

“There our knight in the shining armor comes!” Finn snarked, when General Hux entered the cell. The prisoner had expected some level of objection, but he hadn’t been prepared for Hux to verbally explode into his direction:

“Don’t start me on chivalry! Courage and honor are inventions of the physically strong, so that they can dictate the rules of an engagement! Allowing only the methods they excel at ensures their victory!”

“You’re coherent…” Finn stammered. “Now we need to work on a little something called situational appropriateness.”

Hux’ eyes narrowed, but he kept his tongue in check. He really needed to learn to not react to everything the rebels stammered. Or to yell “I’m the spy” in a room with security cameras in, for that matter.

“I brought you some provisions”, the General proclaimed while putting down the backpack. “Use them… situation-appropriately.”

The merest hint of a smile accompanied Hux’ words. But was it directed at the prisoners or rather at himself for the oh-so clever retort?

In those circles where he wasn’t outright dismissed as a crybaby, Hux had the reputation of a normally calculated, stone cold man, who was overwhelmed the moment an emotion got a drop on him. Truth was that he was possessed of a rational form of empathy. Armitage knew that, yes, this sucks, is an undesirable state and should therefore get changed. But he felt no sympathy for the person in the undesirable situation and very little compassion only. Hux just couldn’t copy their feelings onto himself, or maybe he could have done so, but saw little reason to. After all, that process wouldn’t enable him to render aid more efficiently, to the contrary. And so young Hux had turned his attention towards the world at large, decided to shape it in a way that eradicated as much suffering as possible. Although so far everything he had achieved was eradicating solar systems along with their population.

“Why did you call Hux a knight?” FN-11 demanded to know while the goods were taken out of the bag and sorted. In all other circumstance he’d already forgotten that greeting, but seeing all three of the former prisoners – two of them hostages now and the third on parole – huddle together didn’t sit well with the stormtrooper captain.

Finn replied without looking at the asker: “Because he’s as pleasant to have around as a Knight of Ren!”

“I don’t think so. Especially not after having seen and smelled their armor in person.”

“Alright, so it was a bad analogy. I wasn’t trained to come up with…”

“You’ve been in here before!” FN-11 tossed at Hux.

“Yes. For quite some time, too. You arrested me not so long ago.”

“Don’t play coy! You know what I meant!”

Hux carefully put the package with the painkillers he had been holding down on his now unoccupied bed, then got up. This was the kind of talk where you’d wanted to make use of those five centimeters height advantage that you had over your conversation partner.

“Technically I didn’t visit the prisoners. I sent IT-08 with a powder of acetyl-salicylic acid hidden in his chassis. Nobody paid attention to a torture droid going on about his business on the detention level.”

“The patrols should…”

“But they didn’t! That’s the beauty of an IT. Even those on the same side they are on avoid them whenever they can.” Hux words were followed by a pause, a grin and then an afterthought: “Amazing little critters!”

“You bastard!” FN-11 gasped.

Unsure what would happen next, Finn and Rose sped up the unpacking process. They shoved everything either under or onto one Finn’s cot. Later they’d hide the fruit juice, the painkillers, patches, gel pads and assorted other provisions in the cell’s locker, but they couldn’t do this just yet, while FN-11 was watching. Hux had conveniently neglected to reveal that IT-08 had also delivered the key to the locker during his visit. The guards would not check it during their routine controls, since they had no reason to assume the cell’s inmates had access to that storage.

While FN-11 was busy communicating with the prison deck’s captain to change security clearance for certain droid models, all the whole casting angry glances at Hux through his visor, Rose flashed the General a grin.

“How was your morning?”

Hux didn’t contest or confirm the “morning” to the prisoners in their out of time bubble. He simply answered:

“Terrible. I ran into Kandia, a school trip and the masked hero all in the span of ten minutes.”

The man’s chest rose and sank in a sigh. Afterwards FN-11 noticed his General relax his muscles in a way he’d never seen him do before. Letting go… mentally leaning on… That was what the First Order as a whole was for, not a group of individuals, least of all enemies! But here the General was, feeling a load drop off his heart after having spoken that one sentence to Tico and Finn. Relaxed, his arms slid on his back into his favorite pose almost without conscious decision. But while they moved, they brushed against something that Hux had tucked away under his coat.

“Oh, right!” he remembered. There was one more present to deliver, and he handed it directly to Rose:

“Here. For the end of the month.”

When Rose hesitated to accept the package, Hux murmured: “Wrong kind?”

“No, these’ll do perfectly! I’m just…” Now Rose grabbed the package and put it on the pile behind her. “…baffled. For to think of this need, you had to put yourself into someone else’s shoes.”

Haughtily the enemy General replied: “You may call it empathy, but anticipating the enemy’s actions by analyzing their emotional state is part of my job as a strategist.”

“Yes, only until now you sucked at that part!”

“Pfft.”

“Anything else?” FN-11 prodded.

“Matter of fact, yes.”

“Why am I not surprised? Alright, Sir, go on playing Flower Wookie!”

“Flower what?” Rose looked from one First Order officer to the other and then to Finn, whose blood had shot into his head at the mention.

“The simple-minded, yet amiable Flower Wookie delivers small presents on Life Day”, Finn quoted what he had once written down in his school book. “The boxes are topped with a bloom and the kind of flower reveals whether the gift is meant romantic, platonic, for a rival and even what emotional state it was given in. It’s a nice custom, only the Wookie thing...”

“You didn’t know any better”, Rose reassured the friend.

“Myself I’m a bit less fond of Wookies than I was as a kid, too”, Hux commented, then handed Rose a broad rubber band. It was covered with a mossy green cloth that sported a vine pattern. Green being Rose’s favorite color Hux had learned from Poe’s toothbrush re-arrangement rebellion, the exact shade she liked he had (correctly) guessed, so that part didn’t come as a surprise. The object itself, however… It took Rose a while to recognize it as what it was. Constant war, fear and challenges had made it so that something as simple as a hairband looked out of place, an exotic item among the death machinery.

“A scissor would have been as readily available, but if for whatever reason you prefer to keep your hair as a liability, then you should at least tame it a little.”

“You think of everything in terms of advantage and disadvantage, huh?” Rose asked while raising her arms to apply the hairband. Finn moved in to help and for a moment their hands touched. Being in here together just the two of them and with Poe having suffered an uncertain fate, Rose had expected her previous infatuation with Finn to flare up again, making this touch awkward. But it didn’t. Why? What was it that enabled Rose to cuddle freely with Finn in the way of friends? The high chance that both of them would die soon at the First Order’s hands? The memory of Poe?

Hux’ retort interrupted the rebel’s train of thought:

“I won’t resent me being me just because a rebel doesn’t approve.”

“Huh”, Rose uttered, forcing down the “Or a Supreme Leader?” she had wanted to reply. But the stormtrooper captain was eying the prisoners’ unlikely ally with way too much disdain already. It was all over FN-11’s body language, not concealable anymore even by a helmet, armor and decades of living as a somewhat autonomous weapon of the First Order.

“I’ve got something else of you, your twin sun pendant”, Hux revealed hastily. “Can’t give it back yet, otherwise they’d steal it again.”

“And we’d also learn that you can break into the evidence stash”, FN-11 added. Finn and Rose could almost see him roll his eyes.

Hux spoke on: “There also was a ring among your belongings. I don’t know what its significance is, but am safekeeping it.”

“Poe wore a ring on a chain around his neck”, Finn supplied.

Hux then knew that he couldn’t give this particular object back. Unwanted memories might get sparked. There was one little fact, however, that he felt save – as well as obligated - to reveal:

“Poe is alive, and helping us win this war.”

The other two pictured their friend hooked up to a machine that extracted his expertise at these words.

“Win this war?” Finn flared up. “Just when I thought you couldn’t grow any more delusional… Have you thought about what will happen after the victory? When you two have outlived your usefulness to the First Order? Just look at Captain Eleven here! I can read body language beneath stormtrooper armor and he’s something like ten seconds from locking you in here together with us!”

“I better not do that”, FN-11 said with a chuckle, for he had reached the point where he either had to laugh at this display or start smashing furniture from frustration. “He’d enjoy it far too much.” Directed at Hux, the man barked: “I don’t know what to make of you!”

Feet planted firmly onto the ground, the sharp sting in his upper leg none withstanding, hands crossed on his back and his chin raised confidently, Hux spoke up:

“It is as I said: We have to seize control. The Resistance isn’t our most dangerous enemy. The Sith are. As are the senior Imperials. Everyone who is just out for power for themselves. It’s time to return to… Do you remember our founder?”

“The Grand-Admiral who was big on courage and honor, you mean?”

Hux shook his head. He could think of an answer, and was certain that it would have been a good one. But if he allowed FN-11 to push him into the reacting role now, he’d already have lost.

“Trenay, listen and when I’ve said my piece, I order you to decide where you stand in this!”

“Amuse me!”

It was better than the day the back then young commandant had ordered Trenay to “not obey my next order”. An order to disobey… Disobedience could get one into trouble. But there was no way to avoid disobedience in this case. Whatever teenaged Trenay would have picked, he’d violated either young Hux’ first or his second order, what would have earned him a punishment either way. Just because a whim had stricken the younger boy, drunk on his power!

Or had he been… afraid? Had little Armitage been aware that his command power was borrowed only? That he was living or dying by the adults’ whims, despite his elevated rank? If the intent had been to pull the ground from under Trenay’s feet and teach him how that felt, it had worked. And after three decades Hux was still pretty good at it.

“Without order, the strong will just take what they want, do whatever they want to others. The charming ones will do it less violently, but to the same effect. My point stands: There has to be a law, it has to cover every aspect of life and it has to be feared. Is that something you can get behind?”

“I never lived by another credo!”

“Then nothing else I do should matter to you.”

“Hm…”

“But it should matter very much!” Rose protested. “One can’t “put the galaxy right” by destroying planets! Or whatever it is that you’re doing to Poe!”

“A spirited one, are you?” Hux sneered. He licked his lips and took a step closer to the rebel, hoping that FN-11 wouldn’t notice how he was play-acting. Hux pulled Rose closer to him, held her tight and buried his head in her hair. Predictably she squirmed and spat curses at the man that got muffled by Hux’ uniform jacket.

“Poe is fine”, Hux whispered, in the hopes that FN-11 wouldn’t overhear what he was revealing.

“What?”

“He’s alive and well. Can’t go into detail now. We look out for each other, he’s amazing!”

Rose tried to shove Hux away, but all she accomplished was pushing herself away from the larger man. The result was similar enough to the intended one, only involving a little more staggering.

The rebel looked at Hux in a mix of anger and fascination.

“What game are you playing? What’s real about you?”

But the man was just standing there, every inch the General. Haughty, full of himself. Had everything he’d done in here just been a demonstration of self-confidence? To get FN-11 and with him the Steadfast’s stormtroopers on his side in an upcoming coup? It looked like it, and it seemed to have worked, because the captain’s stance changed in not so subtly ways.

There were no elections in the First Order. But Trenay “FN-0011” had picked his leader anyway.

[lookingupatthesamemoon]

selfshiptober day 2: blanket + flame

pairing: Winnifred + Frankenstein's Creature (1931)

summary: Winnifred takes the Creature in for a hot meal and offers him a warm bed

word count: 2.8k

divider by @/thecutestgrotto :)

Winnifred felt safe, in most cases. She was one of very few women in her village that lived on her own – she thought she would be an easy target, but she supposed the other villagers took pity on her. She knew they talked, about her career choices and her lack of love interests, but she didn’t care. She was much happier without a man weighing her down.

That is, until now, as she heard twigs snapping in the woods besides her house. She mentally cursed her grandfather for passing on before he could teach her how to use his musket, and for leaving her a woodland cottage rather than a home in the center of town. It was dark, and she was alone. Even if she did live closer to her neighbors, she doubted any of them would be awake at this hour. Most of the families she knew called it a night rather early, their candles blown out by eight o’clock – especially now, amidst rumors that a local scientist had cooked up some kind of monster in his lab that had broken free. 

She had frozen in place, her left foot on the first of her three front porch steps. Her head had whipped around in the direction of the noise, but she could barely make out anything. She gave her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark – she had just escaped the brightness of the street lamps, and the only light she had was the dim lantern hanging outside of her house. She blinked a few times, taking another look. Lurking in the shadows, Winnifred could swear she saw… a man. But, not just any man. He looked to be freakishly tall, close to eight feet if she had to guess, and he looked extremely broad. She couldn’t make out many details in his appearance, what with both the darkness and the distance, but she also couldn’t help but notice in his silhouette that something odd seemed to be protruding from his neck. Perhaps he was injured. He made no moves, and neither did she.

“What do you want?” She called out into the night. 

The man didn’t respond. Instead, he began taking small steps toward Winnifred’s voice. This could only go two ways, she supposed. This man was either going to chase her into her house and kill her, or he was in some sort of trouble and she was about to become responsible for him for the rest of the night. Neither sounded particularly ideal. 

“What do you want?” She repeated. 

The footsteps continued, slowly creeping toward her. Winnifred weighed her options. Of course, the smart thing to do would have been to head inside. If she was really clever, she would’ve done it as soon as she heard the twigs snapping in the distance, but she had often been known to let curiosity get the better of her. She knew at this point that the man had seen her, but she wasn’t sure whether or not he knew she could see him. She almost wanted him to come closer. She wanted to get a look at his face.

The man was almost out of the shadows, when he finally was able to choke out a one word response. “Fr-Fr… Friend,” he spoke.

Winnie raised an eyebrow. She would have assumed the man was trying to fool her, to lull her into feeling safe, but his struggle to even form the word seemed genuine. “A friend?” she asked. “Come closer. Come into the light, where I can see you.”

As he stepped into the dim light, dangerously close now to Winnifred’s front steps, she finally got a good look at him. She almost gasped in horror, but was able to keep the sound from escaping. She could see now why he had been hiding. The man’s skin was dull, borderline green, as if he had been on his deathbed a matter of moments ago. His forehead was scarred, and as she scanned his body, Winnifred could see that his neck and arms were as well, almost as if a handful of his body parts had been sewn back on with a needle and thread. In his neck, she could see a myriad of nuts and bolts, two large and prominent screws on either side. As their eyes met, she noticed that the whites of his eyes were closer to a shade of yellow, and that his irises were darker than any she had ever seen before. 

“What… What happened to you?” She inquired. Standing in front of him, she was eye level with his stomach. She took a breath, lifting her right hand, about to offer a gentle touch to the man’s arm, but he cowered away. She frowned, more at the circumstance than anything else. “Who did all this to you? Are you okay?”

She gave the man a few moments to reply, but it seemed he didn’t know the words. She watched him for a short while, debating her next move. Maybe she would later regret it, but she knew she wouldn’t forgive herself if she didn’t offer a helping hand. Something was clearly wrong, and if no one else was going to help this guy, she felt like she needed to.

“Look, why don’t you come inside,” she offered. “We can warm you up, get you fed… It might be a little tight but I think we can make it work.”

She took the last couple steps onto her porch, opening up her door and gesturing for the tall man to head inside. He ducked under the doorframe instinctively as he passed through – it was about a full foot shorter than he was. She led him into her small home, offering for him to sit down at her kitchen table. He took a seat, though only half of his backside really fit on the chair. It almost looked as if an average man was sitting in a seat built for a toddler. Winnifred pulled the chain on her ceiling light, illuminating the room. Her guest looked up at it as it brought the room to life, even reaching up toward it. She smiled at the gesture – it was as if he was growing toward the light like a plant, eager to get out of the darkness. He noticed her expression, and tried to mirror it, albeit not quite getting it right. His smile was tight and close-lipped. 

“So, um, I don’t have too much in the house right now,” Winnie said apologetically. “I did make some apple pie the other day… Will you eat that?”

The man simply nodded. He was familiar with apples — they were one of the few foods he knew he could eat. They were easy to pluck from the trees, especially at his height. The man watched as Winnifred reached into her refrigerator, and heated up the stove to warm up the leftovers. She had put a kettle on as well, hoping to provide warm drinks. He had never eaten apple pie before, nor had a warm drink. Winnifred took it upon herself to set the table for him, laying out a plate and silverware as the oven worked its magic. 

“So, um… Do you have a name?” She asked. The man shook his head solemnly. What kind of man had no name? Winnifred frowned. Was it her place to give him a name? She was unsure. “Well, what do people call you?” She continued.

The man took a deep breath. He kept his eyes on the table as he tried to remember all the names he had been called since his creation. He could really only remember how to say one of them. “M-Monster.”

“A monster?” Winnifred repeated. “You don’t seem like a monster to me. I mean, you’ve got great manners. A… Creature, maybe, but not a monster.”

The man, or, rather, the Creature, smiled at this. “Creature” had a lot more dignity to it than “monster.” More respect, even, despite still dehumanizing him. To be quite frank, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be equated to humans, anyway. Humans were the cause of his suffering. In his experience, humans were cruel and cold-blooded, hellbent on making him miserable just because he was different. Well, except for this one, sitting in front of him at her own kitchen table, cooking food for him in her own house, offering him refuge. He had never been treated so graciously before.

“Okay, so, do you want me to just… Call you Creature?”

The Creature nodded, pleased with this development.

“Okay, I can do that,” Winnifred responded. “Maybe we can come up with a proper name later.”

The dinging of the kitchen timer pulled both of their attention away from each other. The Creature jumped a bit in his seat as it went off.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry. That was just my timer, to make sure we don’t leave the pie in the oven for too long,” Winnifred explained. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She carefully took the leftover pie out of the oven, and proceeded to cut a slice for the Creature and one for herself. She pulled out two mugs from the cupboard as well, fixing them each a mug of hot chocolate.

“I know cocoa is usually a morning beverage,” Winnifred started as she placed one of the mugs on the table in front of the Creature, “but I wanted to make sure you had something warm. It’s pretty chilly outside these days, especially at night… But, I’m sure you knew that already.”

The Creature leaned closer to the table, sniffing at the steaming drink in front of him. Rather than picking up the drink, he tried to take a sip directly from the mug as it sat on the table. His lips hadn't quite made it to the mug when Winnifred returned to the table once more, sliding a slice of apple pie onto his plate. “Oh, be careful! The cocoa is hot, I don’t want you to burn your tongue.”

The Creature slowly sat back in his chair, taking her advice. He now examined the slice of pie that sat before him. He went to pick it up with his bare hand, but he dropped it back onto the plate, wincing at the temperature. He huffed, already impatient. He was hungry, and he was filthy, and he was tired. He watched as Winnifred picked up her fork, breaking off a single bite of her slice of pie. She blew on it before bringing it to her lips. The Creature began mimicking her, and before he knew it, he was eating just like her. His grip on the fork was a bit clumsy, especially in his large hand, but he was managing. He had never held a fork before, let alone eaten with one.

“Is it good?” Winnifred asked after a few bites. The Creature nodded, grinning at her. He accepted a second slice when she offered him one, and he slurped down the cocoa once it had cooled off a bit. He had never felt this kind of warmth from the inside before. A hot, home-cooked meal was a luxury that he had never had the chance to experience before. “Usually we would have a proper dinner before dessert, but I didn’t really have much time today to make one,” Winnifred shrugged.

“This good,” The Creature spoke softly.

Winnie’s face lit up as she heard him speak. She knew he must know some words, he just didn’t have the proper faculties to get them all out. 

“So, you understand English?” She asked him. 

He nodded in response.

“And you can speak it, just not very well?” 

Another nod.

“Do you know any other languages?”

A shake of the head.

“Well, we can learn together,” Winnifred suggested. “At the very least, I can help you with your English. I’m a writer, you know? Well, and a biologist, but most of the menfolk around here don’t like it too much when I mention that.”

The Creature looked at her, some kind of glimmer of hope in his eyes. Winnie could tell he wanted to say something, but he just couldn’t choke out the words.

“It’s pretty late,” Winnifred sighed as she began to clear the table – she would wash the dishes in the morning, she decided. “I don’t know what time of night you usually like to go to sleep, but, this is usually about when I call it quits.”

The Creature nodded solemnly. He was tired, too, but he was willing to stay up all night if it meant getting real shelter. 

“Don’t worry,” Winnifred started, seeing the frown on his face, “I can set the living room up for you. I would offer you the bed, but I think it might be a little small… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Why don’t I set up some blankets and pillows out there on the floor? I can get the wood stove going, too, to keep you warm. Maybe we can bathe you in the morning, too, if you’d like.”

The Creature smiled, slowly standing up from his seat, following Winnifred into the next room. He stood hunched in the doorframe, waiting for her to gather some bedding. Truth be told, he would have been willing to sleep there on the bare hardwood floor – it surely would have been a little less comfortable than the soft ground outside, but that was a small price to pay for extra heat and a full tummy. But if this woman was offering him a proper place to sleep, he could never turn it down. On the day of his creation, he was given only a singular pillow and a thin sheet for sleeping. He could already see Winnifred was willing to give him more, as he watched three pillows tumblr down her rickety staircase, followed by a couple of thick blankets. She had known him for less than an hour, but she was already offering him much more compassion than even his creator had. It was like she could see past his decaying exterior, into his spirited soul.

She had, in total, taken four various blankets from her bedroom, as well as the three pillows that she had thrown down. She smiled at the Creature as she walked past him, carrying two of the blankets over by the wood stove. She laid one thick blanket down as a base, and added the second one on top. The Creature followed in her footsteps, grabbing the other two blankets, and handing them over to her so she could spread them out to be used as intended. The two finished up the job by tossing the pillows down haphazardly, completing the makeshift bed.

“You can go ahead and get comfortable if you’d like,” Winnifred said. “I’m just going to grab some firewood and then we should be all set.”

The Creature tensed at hearing the word “fire,” but not enough for Winnifred to notice. He had been taunted with fire for much of his short life. 

As Winnifred threw logs into the wood stove, setting them ablaze, the Creature whined, looking away. He flinched as she went to touch him, to offer a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Oh, are you scared of the fire?” Winnie asked softly, kneeling down next to him. He nodded, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Oh, it’s okay,” she said, her voice still delicate. “I’ll close the door. The flames won’t get you, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

Carefully, she placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his rough skin. His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers for a brief moment. She proceeded to plant a soft kiss on his forehead before crawling over to the wood stove, closing the door and latching it. The bright orange of the flames could still be seen through the cracks at the bottom and sides of the door, but the Creature trusted Winnifred. He felt safe. The flames weren’t going to eat him up like they always threatened to do. Winnie got up off the floor, about to head toward her own bedroom. She didn’t make it too far before the Creature grunted in protest.

“Oh, did… Did you want me to stay with you? Until you fall asleep?”

“Stay,” the Creature nodded.

Winnifred smiled. How could she say no? She removed her shoes, loosening her dress a bit for the sake of comfort, and crawled under the blankets. The Creature instinctively pulled her closer to him, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how much warmth he was producing. It was impressive, considering he wasn’t quite human. He was surprisingly comforting, his colossal form up against her. It wasn’t long before Winnie found herself falling asleep against his chest, listening to what she had to assume was in fact his beating heart.