#i don’t think advertisers understand that interrupting what i’m doing to force me to see your product is a sure fire way to make me-

[mittenhater]

if that glasses ad opens up again in another window while i’m trying to scroll past it, i’m going to kill someone

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! First of all, your writing is ASTOUNDING. I adore how you characterize. Secondly, I have a prompt idea:

A Villain who is falling in love with a Hero, but won’t admit it to themself. They stop being able to effectively fight Hero because they don’t want to hurt them. But Supervillain notices, so they capture Hero and use them to lure Villain in.

-Wicky

🥺🥺🥺 Thank you so very much! You just made my day. I thank you for the compliment and the prompt! I sure hope I did it justice, and I hope you enjoy!

CW//Injuries, threats, implied torture

Villain’s world spun as their skull cracked against the rough concrete of the roof. Opening their eyes, their field of vision was filled with only an array of stars.

Everything hurt.

They were convinced, in that moment, that there was not an inch of their flesh that was left unbruised, not a rib left unfractured. Breathing on its own was an ordeal, an ordeal that they endured only out of pure necessity.

Pain rippled through the stocks of jelly they had once called limbs as the villain scrambled first to hands and knees, and finally to their feet, even as unsteady as they were. They could do nothing but gasp as they faced down their opponent.

There was something in Hero’s eyes. Something that even their nemesis, their sworn, life-long foe could not quite name. It was not quite sympathy, no, but it was not quite pity, either. Something inbetween, perhaps, with only the slightest garnishing of regret.

“Come on, Villain.” It was with a pleading tone that the hero spoke, as though attempting to coax a frightened cat down from the top branches of a Redwood tree. “Just stand down! You can’t win this. We have you surrounded. No harm will come to you- No more harm.”

Yet, the villain only shook their head.

For any outsider, the matchup would have looked more like a massacre, waiting to happen. Villain themself was perhaps not the picture of musculature, but what villain was? No, they may not have been the strongest. But everyone knew what power they held in their palms, the lightning they could unleash at will. Enough to topple the building upon which they stood. Enough to topple the whole city, perhaps. The city had yet to so much as see their full potential.

But it was their potential that the villain now refused to use.

Hero, on the other hand, was... well, they weren’t much. As strong as they were, as clever, as smart, superstrength could only do one so much good. Villain could have destroyed them in passing, with the snap of a finger!

Why wasn’t the hero in the nearest emergency room? Even Villain themself wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m not giving up, asshole!” They snarled, balling their hands to fists. It would be so easy. So very simple to send a torrent of lightning forth, to shock Hero within an inch of their life. Hell, Villain used their powers to make popcorn on the weekends!

But, they couldn’t. They couldn’t imagine Hero, the poor thing, the pitiful little fool, fallen to the ground. The very thought of using their powers against their opponent made them feel sick.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Hero spoke, eyes wide and glimmering with that same mix of sympathy and regret.

“Too bad.”

And, with that, the rooftop once more became a battleground. Villain surged forward, met in the center by their nemesis. A blow to the side of their head sent them stumbling.

They couldn’t go on like this, they knew as their vision clouded once more with stars. Another hit and they would be unconscious, in the custody of the so-called good guys. They couldn’t do that.

They had two choices.

Three. Three choices.

The first? To take the hit. To bite the bullet, to find themself behind bars.

The second? To hurt Hero. To wipe that oh-so-innocent quiver from their lips. To destroy-

No. They had two options. That wasn’t even on the table. Villain could be beaten, or they could flee.

It was with a shivering gasp that they chose the second.

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Sidekick placed down their fork with a resounding clack. In the silent room, the sound resembled the ring of a gong.

“Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?” They asked with a quirked brow. With the day turning to evening, they had left their sidekick’s uniform behind, replaced now with a casual set of garments. After all, the restaurant at which they were eating was far from fancy. That wasn’t the type of villain that their mentor was.

“Of course I’m alright. Do I look like some kind of ailing senior citizen?” Villain muttered under their breath as they looked over in displeasure at their sidekick. For someone so young, they certainly had a mouth.

“Not now. But on the battlefield last night-”

“I’m fine. I’m up and walking, aren’t I?”

“It’s not about that.” Sidekick shook their head. “It was in the battle. You could’ve taken out Hero easy-”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in public.”

“Sorry.” They lowered their tone. “But, I’ve seen you take Hero out dozens of times. Recently, though, you’ve been all over the place. You can’t even land a single hit! I’m worried. You’ve lost your edge. Up on that rooftop, it was like you were somewhere else entirely.”

Villain had been somewhere else entirely, not that they would ever dare to admit it. They had been lost, hopelessly lost- Lost in the eyes of their damn nemesis.

“I just wasn’t on the ball. Everyone has off days.” They grumbled, turning their embarrassed gaze away.

“Everyone has off days. But you’ve been having an off month! Don’t think I haven’t noticed that it’s just them. Just Hero.”

“They’re getting better.”

“So are you.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

Sidekick reached across the table, placing their palm upon the back of their mentor’s hand, which had unconsciously been balled into a fist.

“You nearly got captured, last night. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Villain. If you’re sick, if something’s wrong, anything at all, you need to tell me.”

Villain suddenly spotted something very interesting on their shoes, and kept their gaze fixed there.

“It’s stupid.”

“Are you sick? Everyone gets sick sometimes, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not sick.”

“Then what?”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Lovesick.”

Sidekick withdrew their hand in shock.

“What?”

“Look, it’s stupid! I don’t know. I shouldn’t be feeling that way about a hero, but- They’re a good person, I swear it. They want to help, and they’re kind, and I just can’t bear the thought of hurting them. What if I changed them? What if I hurt them, and that was what made them lose hope, lose faith? Then that’d be on my shoulders!”

“You’re saying...” Sidekick’s jaw was still ajar in shock. “You’re saying that you can’t fight Hero, because you’re in love with them?”

Villain looked up with a sigh.

“To put it shortly, I suppose.”

The both of them were shocked as a figure appeared next to their table. A sharply-dressed figure with a notepad.

“Are you two ready to order?”

“Yes, my apologies.” Villain cleared their throat. They and their sidekick presented their orders, which the waiter scrawled down with a series of understanding nods.

It was not until that particular waiter disappeared from the dining room that they slipped out of their disguise, and dialed a number into their phone.

“Hey, Boss? You might wanna hear about this.”

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To say Villain was in a bad mood would have been an understatement.

The injuries covering every last inch of their body, too, ached with every step they took. Bruises and beatings rippled, forcing them nearly to limp. Yet, they forced their gait to remain normal, even if it meant pain.

They couldn’t call attention to themself. Not when they were in civilian clothes like this, and not when they were on the streets. Still, they kept their head low and their sweatshirt hoodie up as they went along. No need to stick out in the crowd.

This was the only solace they ever got, after all. When some got frustrated, they would go for a drive in the night. But their vehicle was distinctive enough that that wasn’t an option for the villain.

Instead? They walked, moving along with the crowd as though they were a single fish in a school. Usually, this helped them calm down. Now, however, every step they took only made their thoughts spin more wildly.

First, it was Hero. Hero and their stupid eyes. Then it was Sidekick. It wasn’t that Sidekick had confronted them that made them so worried, it was that they’d noticed at all.

That meant that other people out there might spot their weakness. Might use it as an advantage. Who would it be, though? Hero themself? Or, even-

A gasp rippled through the crowd around them in a wave. Voices shouted and fingers pointed, all in the same direction. Villain wiggled their way out of the crowd in order to see what had caused such fuss.

A billboard. An electronic billboard.

An electronic billboard that no longer housed an advertisement for the latest cellphone or insurance scam. No. Upon the massive thing, multiple stories in height, surely, was broadcasted a video.

“Good evening, and I do apologize for interrupting. But I just had to get my friend’s attention.”

Villain’s breath caught in their throat. They would know that voice even if they had to pick it out of a crowd of thousands.

Most would have expected that two people so similar as Villain and Supervillain would get along, but the reality was just the opposite. Villain couldn’t call themself a good guy, no, but they had ethics. Morals. Real aims to work towards, rather than burning the city down and laughing among the flames.

Supervillain, on the other hand? There was a reason that they were so feared. Their goals were far grander than Villain’s.

To say that they had never been very good friends would be an understatement.

And, now? Now they were enemies. The video projected upon that billboard made that fact certain.

Supervillain themself was not visible in frame-- Perhaps that was lucky for Villain. Seeing that stupid face would have certainly goaded them into destroying the projection outright. Instead, the video displayed a room.

A concrete room, with a chair in the center. A chair that was far from empty.

It was always Hero’s eyes that they could not help but get lost in. Now, that wasn’t a factor. Not when the hero was so tightly blindfolded. Their soothing, calming voice, too, had been eliminated-- the cloth gag in their mouth was already soaked-through with spittle.

Tied to the chair, bound, gagged, and blinded, sat Hero.

“Now, I don’t want a ransom. No, no. I only want to see a dear friend of mine. And it has been oh, so hard to track them down.

So, Villain, dear?”

They shivered at the sound of their name. Their name.

“How about you come to my base, and pick up your little friend, here. Or else, I might just have to do something drastic.”

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For six hours, Villain did not move.

As soon as the broadcast had left the billboard, it had repeated itself upon every news channel that gave half a crap about the metropolis. National news, even international, with subtitles in two dozen languages telling of Supervillain’s threat.

They’d found out. Of course they’d found out.

Villain knew they  should have been furious. They should have strangled Supervillain, strangled Hero, strangled themself! After all, this was all their fault. Falling for a hero, how could they have possibly been so stupid?

Now, they stared. Hands balled to fists in their lap as yet another newscaster explained the same events, over and over again.

“Boss?” Sidekick’s voice was soft, nothing like their usual, nosy self. They sat in a chair behind their mentor, who was seated criss-cross on the floor.

There was no answer.

“Boss... What are you going to do?”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Leave who?”

“Leave Hero. You know what Supervillain is like! They’ll destroy them. Destroy the last good hero in the city.”

“You didn’t want to hurt them.”

“And I don’t want to see them hurt, either.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s all Supervillain has over you. You can just... Leave them, right? It’s not like Hero has any real power over you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have to.”

“You don’t!”

Villain stood.

“Yes, I do.” They spun around, stalking towards the room that held their costume. “And I need to wipe that damn smile off Supervillain’s face.”

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Some Semblance of a Man

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31716874

Kaz

Kaz Brekker was always looking for a challenge, for the next rival to ruin, for the next near death experience. He’d learned quickly that sitting idle in The Barrel got you killed and he’d been running ever since. But with Pekka gone, Inej and her parents reunited, and the Council of Tides temporarily abated, Kaz was beginning to realize there was nothing else for him to do but wait.

Of course, there were the day to day activities, he still had The Crow Club to run, he still had slavers to gather information on. But after everything he and the Dregs had been through recently, those tasks seemed trivial. He didn’t want his crew to think that just because he’d come into a bit of money that he had gone soft, and he didn’t want rumor spreading throughout the Barrel that Kaz Brekker was getting bored. Without his crew around the Slat, Kaz had to find other ways to pass the time, and for the sake of maintaining appearances, Kaz would walk the streets at night, pretending to look at his watch, pretending to trail a random person, or spreading rumors. Sometimes he would walk to The Menagerie and think of what it would look like burned to the ground.

That’s where he’d been tonight, with a gentle mist of rain turning the cobblestone to mirrors, pools of colored lights spilling out across the street. There were few people out, the rain enough of a nuisance to make them think twice about spending their coin in gambling halls and pleasure houses. Despite the hour growing ever later, the Slat was teaming with life when Kaz returned, the air smelled like alcohol and sweat, the newer additions to the crew were trying to have a conversation, which had mostly devolved into shouting over the out of tune cacophony of voices singing drunkenly across the bar. Kaz bought a round for everyone, though he knew the chance of anyone here betraying him in favor of another gang was slim, keeping his crew happy with a bit of booze usually made his job a little easier. Besides, the longer the crowd was down here, the longer he had for some quiet of his own, in his room on the fourth floor, where the voices did not carry.

Kaz held his breath as he started his climb up the stairs, it was never easy, but Kaz valued the privacy and protection afforded by his room more than he worried about the pain. He bolted the door behind him, leaning his head against its frame and biting his lip as he massaged the twitching muscle of his thigh. He stretched, rubbed a knot from his neck, and reached for his hat.

He paused, the pattering of raindrops puncturing the peace. “Won’t Jesper and Wylan be missing their Wraith?” Kaz asked his empty room, his back to the window, hiding his smirk. He moved slowly, hanging his hat on the doorknob and turning around just in time to watch Inej swing gracefully from the rafters of his ceiling and drop down to his bed.

“No, they’re going over the books tonight, so they’ll be busy for a few hours at least,”

“Wylan’s books take hours to go over?” Kaz asked, leaning against the wall to take the weight off his bad leg.

“No,” Inej replied “But the boys tend to get distracted by...paperwork and usually have to start over,”

It took Kaz longer than he’d ever admit to understand her meaning, but once he had he merely quirked a single, bemused eyebrow at her. Something hungry and desperate twisted its way through Kaz’s stomach when Inej smiled wryly back at him, her eyes flitting to his collar. “What business?”

“I’ve been reading up on cannons.” Inej began, her face a picture of concentration. “Specht and I are going to be taking a few people we’ve been eyeing for our crew out on the water sometime in the next few weeks to practice. We aren’t going far, just far enough to where the cannon fodder won’t send other ships into a panic. We want to see if they can work well as a team before we commit to hiring them.”

“A wise decision,” Kaz agreed, ignoring the way his heart seized within his chest. It made him happy she would have her freedom, but the thought of losing her to the sea always left an ache.

“I wanted to extend an invitation to you,” the confidence Kaz had grown so used to seeing in Inej’s shoulders melted away, she pulled out a knife, turning it over in her hand. “to join us on that trip. I thought you might want to be there to ensure your...investment is taking form the way you’d hoped it would,”

“It wasn’t an in-” Kaz swallowed the rest of the sentence. It wasn’t an investment. He thought, don’t you know this was all for you? “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long, a day, maybe two.”

“When you have the dates secured, let me know, I’ll see if I can make the time,” He knew already he would make the time.

Inej nodded, a glint of something in her eye “And you? What business?”

“I have a job for you,” Kaz took this as an excuse to get closer to Inej, moving toward his desk and stretching out his leg. “I recently came into the possession of some ledgers,”

“You can use the word ‘stole’ Kaz, I’m not the stadwatch ,”

“They have the names of all the ships that have docked in the harbor, the captain, and their cargo,” Kaz continued, “I was looking through it for leads on slavers when I noticed something,” Inej untangled her limbs, and pushed herself upward, walking over to Kaz’s desk. Kaz had forgotten how comfortable it felt to have her by his side. “There’s a ship that keeps appearing, but it never stays for long. It docks at last light, and it departs first thing in the morning. I’ve looked at the dates of it’s arrival,” Kaz handed Inej the first of the ledgers, she took it from him without a word, scanning the pages in search of the same patterns he had found.

“The Sankta ?” Inej hissed and Kaz could hear the disgust on her tongue.

“I thought that might catch your eye,” he opened another ledger, pointing to the name of the ship and the dates it had docked in Ketterdam. “It comes in every six months or so, and when it does the population in the Barrel always seems to increase. The clubs start advertising more heavily, the pleasure houses start getting more traffic,”

“You think they’re smuggling people into the city?”

“I don’t know for certain what they’re trading, the ledger has different cargo listed every time. And the Captain...I’ve never heard of them before.” Inej placed the ledger in her hand back down on the desk, leaning in closer. Her braid fell down across her shoulder, barely an inch from Kaz’ face. Focus . “If the pattern holds they should be docking here in-”

“Three days?” Inej finished for him, reaching for the second ledger. Her fingers brushed against his gloves, her forearm against his jacket. Kaz lost all sense of time and place, despite the warmth of the room and the floor beneath his feet. One second he was in the Slat and the next he was cold and drowning. Inej was saying something, something like “tell him”, maybe? But he wasn’t quite sure, there was cotton in his ears, his heart was in his throat. There was water rising around his ankles.

“Kaz?” He heard her voice, far off, like a siren calling him to shore. He did not trust himself to speak, as it was he struggled to find breath “Kaz!”

He slammed back into himself, pressing one hand flat against his desk, wrapping the other around the head of his cane so tightly his knuckles went white beneath his gloves. Solid wood and solid metal, no flesh or water in sight, this was always how it went. The place beside him where Inej had been was empty, she had retreated, pressed herself up against the wall, her hands behind her back.

“I’m sorry, I-,” Kaz would have done anything to wipe away her guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t mean to-”

“I wasn’t prepared,” he said, unable to look her in the eye, to admit to the weakness they both knew that he carried.

“I know,”

“I didn’t expect-”

“I know,” Inej interrupted. “Does the Sankta change the Berth it docks on?”

“No,” Kaz would never have the words to express the gratitude he felt at her diversion. He turned slightly in his seat, pretending to study the documents in front of him. Pretending like every cell in his body wasn’t honed in on Inej. On the way she was looking at him, distracting him once again with talk of plots and schemes, intangible actions that would let him fly high above the harbor he was drowning in. “It uses the same Berth every time.”

“Do we know who that dock belongs to?”

“It’s paid for by the Council, it’s designated for public use,”

“I’ll see what information I can gather,” Inej said and Kaz nodded, trying to force the image of Jordie out of his head. “Goodnight, Kaz,” Inej whispered after a moment, and though he did not hear her footsteps, he felt her absence immediately.

Where the water had been, regret replaced it. He balled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. “Wait!” he called out after her, turning around slowly to not seem overeager. Inej was frozen, partway out his window. He felt picked apart with the way her gaze fell upon him, her eyebrows knit together, her face desperate and searching. Whatever unease still lingered in the center of his stomach, whatever terror still wrapped around his ankles, it fell away at the sight of Inej, sitting here on his window sill, backlit by moonlight and held up by hope.

At some point the fear of what her touch would bring him was dampened by his need to hold her close. He was broken and crooked and the most unworthy man, but he needed Inej to know it wasn’t her fault. Wanted her to know that he was trying to push the pieces of himself back together, into someone, something she would not be ashamed to love.

When Kaz and Nina had broken into the morgue all those months ago, he had powered through his fear with thoughts of Inej; the warmth of her skin, the sound of her voice. But as every second in that room of corpses passed them by, Kaz had forced Inej from his mind, not wanting to taint his memories of her with the scent of death. Kaz had believed for so long that the foolish little boy he had been had died in the harbor, but as his eyes fell upon Inej now, he knew he had been wrong. He had carried Kaz Rietveld with him every day of his life, and had pulled that doe eyed little fool to the surface on the back of his brother’s bloated body with every touch since then.

He’d learned very quickly what it meant to be weak in The Barrel. The Barrel starved, and beat, and stole all the kindness and compassion and love out of those unlucky enough to build a life inside it. Weakness got you killed, so Kaz had buried his weaknesses so deep they had turned themselves into shadows. He had kept them there in the dark for so long they had grown claws and teeth, they had become so rabid, so feral that Kaz was finding it harder and harder to keep them locked away.

But maybe he didn’t have to anymore. Because now he had the Wraith, he had Inej, and Inej made him strong. Inej made him wish for things he had convinced himself he could never have. Perhaps if he tried it, if he tried it enough, to touch her, to put her hand in his, to let her rest her head against his shoulder, to...to kiss her, he could finally put the little boy in the harbor to rest. Yes, he would drown his fear beneath the tidal wave that was Inej, he would burn away the memories of corpses against his flesh with the warmth of her skin against his.

“I want to try again,” it pained him to admit to it, it thrilled him to have said it. Kaz failed to keep his heart beat steady when Inej planted her feet firmly back into his room, and closed the window.

“Try what again?” she asked, stalking forward until there was nothing more than breath between them. Kaz studied the head of his cane, his skin prickled with the thought of what she’d feel like in his hands.

“I-” He dared a glance at her, she was ethereal, she was calculating, she was Inej and the rest of Kaz’s wish was lost with his nerve.

“Kaz, tell me,” Inej leaned forward, Kaz leaned back. He clenched his jaw, locked himself away behind his mask. “Tell me what you want,” He could feel the way she looked at him, like she’d created her own gravity and he’d collapsed beneath it. But he couldn’t make himself form words, it had taken everything he’d had to say something the first time, to show her such weakness again would surely break him. When Inej spoke there was an edge to her voice that was sharper than her knives. “Say it, Kaz. For once in your life just...say what you’re thinking. There is no one else here but us. There’s no one else to see you, to hear you treat me like you actually care.”

Kaz hung his head in shame, it was a fair blow, but that didn’t stop him from shattering into a million pieces at the acknowledgement of all the times he’d failed her. “I want to take my armor off.” He forced himself to meet her eye. “I want to beat this, I will beat this. Will you help me?”

They’d done this little dance for months now, the day on the docks, when he’d shown Inej her ship, he’d managed to hold her hand for a whole five minutes without sinking below the waves. He’d tried a couple times since then, with various levels of success. Some days he’d managed to throw his arm around her, others just the thought of her face caused him to tug on his gloves.

“Of course I’ll help you, Kaz, you only had to ask,” Kaz committed that smile of hers to memory. “Are you ready?” Inej asked.

No. Kaz steadied himself and straightened his posture “Yes,”

They started slowly, Inej resting her palm on the back of his gloved hand, Kaz took a deep breath, he could do this, he was fine. Inej’s fingers curled around his hand, she pressed their palms together. Kaz pushed the water away. She laced their fingers together, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?”

“Fine,”

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,”

Kaz wasn’t sure what kind of sound he made when Inej began to tug the gloves from his hands. She froze, looking up at him, reading him the way only she could. She dropped her hand, Kaz wanted to reach for it, but he let it fall away. “I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“No, it’s- no one else ever has,” Kaz cleared his throat, biting back a smile at the way Inej’s cheeks flushed. Tentatively, Inej continued, it took a lifetime to complete her task, it took a second. The metal of his cane was cold against his fingertips, for the first time in a long time it no longer felt comforting. He reached out with his other hand, and gently Inej took it, her palm against the top of his bare hand. It felt like fire, but Kaz preferred the burn to the icy harbor he had always known. His breath caught in his throat, Inej continued until their hands were pressed palm to palm.

“Breathe,” Inej whispered, Kaz exhaled and peace rushed in to fill his lungs. She interlaced their fingers, the water started in. Think of her . Kaz clenched his jaw. Think of that day at the docks . Kaz faltered when Inej wrapped her other hand around his wrist, the one that held his cane. He thought that she might pull their hands away, and though he was not a man of faith, he thanked every Saint he knew that she kept her hold on him.

She repeated the pattern, gripping his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder with all his layers on. He kept his breathing purposeful, controlled, his eyes trained on the wall for fear he would look at Inej and see a corpse standing in her place. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his chest, he hoped she could not feel his heartbeat. He nearly lost his footing when her arm went to his waist. He was impossibly warm, sweat had started beading at his temples, he gripped his cane a little tighter.

Inej released his hand and a weight Kaz hadn’t realized was upon him disintegrated in his chest. But it returned in a flash when Inej began to pull off his coat. “Saints,” he whispered. “Why won’t it stop ?” he hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t meant for it to send Inej shuffling backward, too far away for him to grasp.

“It takes time, Kaz,” Inej replied, tossing his coat on the bed, taking a tentative step forward, then another when Kaz responded in kind. She brushed her fingers against his shirt sleeve at the wrist, it was an apology and a question. “You can’t kill this kind of monster in a day,” she traced a line up to his elbow. “It took me months,” Inej said, so simply that it knocked his world out of alignment and he had to take a step backward to right himself. Inej reacted on instinct, clutched his shoulders to make sure he did not fall.

“I’m not strong enough,” Kaz blurted out, hoping that if he spoke, he could force the feeling of rotting flesh out of his mind. “I’m not as strong as you,”

“That’s not true,” Inej ran her fingers across his chest and down to his waist. “My weakness just wasn’t visible, yours is,” she unbuttoned his vest, Kaz hadn’t even noticed and the implication of that made his stomach do a somersault. “When someone touches you, you are present, aware.” She continued her pattern, hands going back to his wrist, making sure he could anticipate where her next move was going to be. “Me? I disappeared,” Kaz caught her eye, and threw his thought away. He refused to pity her, he knew she wouldn’t want that. “I looked calm and collected, but no one knew what it was doing to me, to shake their hand or have their arms around me,”

She smiled at him, unrestrained and brilliant, and he looked down to realize he had his hand upon her waist, her arms wrapped around his in kind. This felt like a victory, it felt like a curse. Against the roughness of her jacket, his hand began to tremble. She stepped away, he didn’t want her to, but it was exactly what he needed.

“Your tie,” Inej stated, and Kaz could have worshipped her right then, for understanding that if she had brought her hand up to his neck, he might not survive the evening. He undid his tie, though the tightness in his throat did not relent. He unbuttoned his shirt, hoping that the action would steady his hand. He was feeling light-headed but he wasn’t drowning...yet. He wiped the sweat from his brow, ran a hand through his hair, forced his anxiety out with a breath. He had never gotten this far with her before.

Inej repeated the rhythm: wrist, elbow, shoulders. Her hand was Jordie’s hand, her flesh was Jordie’s flesh. His chest, his waist. The waters started rising, coming in with the strength of a flood. Inej could sense the change in him immediately, “Tell me about the tattoo,” Inej said, he did not want her hand on him anymore, he needed it to stay so he could keep trying. He knew why she was asking, she knew he needed a distraction, and he chuckled darkly because she did not know that this particular question serveed an opposite purpose.

“Not tonight,” But someday .

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,”

Her hand has been in his for seconds, minutes, days, long enough that Kaz let himself hope that one day he could be rid of this. This ghost of his brother, the phantom of his skin, slipping underneath his hand, his chest, his face. Carefully, never breaking eye contact, Inej brought his hand up to her lips, Kaz focused on his breathing, on the moonlight spilling across Inej’s plait. Kaz tasted salt on his tongue, no not salt, iron. His vision went blurry, and he lost the shape of Inej as a result. This was unbearable, but he was desperate for more, it was easier this way. Feeling her lips against his skin, instead of her skin beneath his lips. She pressed another kiss to the creases of his palm, to his wrist. This felt nothing like a corpse, but the traces of her lips burned like ice, like water.

“I never asked you,” Kaz began, relaxing the tension in his jaw “Are you okay with this?”

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing,” she whispered against his forearm, lips brushing the dark ink of his Dregs tattoo. He flexed the hand that held his cane, releasing some of the stiffness in his knuckles. She continued her familiar path across his body, through the smoke of Reaper’s Barge Kaz noticed she took care to avoid the R tattooed to his bicep when she kissed him there.

His whole body was alight, electrified, dying. He could smell death in his nose, he could feel the warmth of Inej’s body wash over him. He was tired, he was treading water, knowing any minute he could drown. He saw Jordie’s face, swollen, purple, eyes cloudy, No. He thought of Inej, of her laughter, her smile, of her voice whispering his name. Kaz Rietveld and Kaz Brekker were at war with one another, and right now, he wasn’t sure who would win. He should tell her to stop, but he didn’t want her to.

Inej took another step in, her hands balling into fists. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing . She had just told him that, but he saw her now, saw how tightly she carried herself. He’d been so caught up in his own head, he hadn’t realized she’d been trying to shed her armor too. She leaned in, and Kaz was back in a hotel bathroom, she paused mere inches from his chest, sucked in one shaking breath, and ran her lips against his collar bone.

The current pulled him under; Kaz Rietveld had won again. Sudden, uncontrollable panic seized within his chest, snapping the leash to which he tied his weaknesses. They ran him over, all snarls and teeth and claws, turning him into something wild and furious. Before he could control himself, before he was even fully conscious of what was happening, he had flung his arms outward, pushing Inej away from him. “Stop,”

Inej, working to quiet her own demons had not been expecting this outburst from Kaz, she lost her footing, stumbling backward, and though she did not fall, Ghafa’s never fall , she did slam the back of her knee into the hard metal of Kaz’s bed frame. Inej cried out, more out of shock than out of pain. Desperation, horror, fury, regret pulled Kaz further under, the room was spinning, the moonlight hurt his eyes. Kaz caught himself on the edge of his desk, fumbling frantically for the waste basket he kept there, the cold metal of it in his hands bringing the briefest moment of comfort before he was vomiting up his dinner.

“Kaz?” Inej’s voice was sturdy, grounding, calm, but he could not turn to face her.

Inej

Kaz Brekker had gone by many names, and Inej had heard them all, whispered fearfully through the streets of Ketterdam by cowardly men. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. Inej had spent so many nights on this city’s rooftops, seen only by the stars, listening in on the conversations that twisted up to her like crow feathers in the wind. She knew what people thought of him, he held a place amongst the most dangerous and feared of men. To some he was a bogeyman, to all he was a threat. And though she had seen him do terrible, violent things it still sent a sharp bolt of surprise crackling through her body whenever she heard the word “monster” following his name.

That monster stood before her now, leaning against his desk. Trusting her enough to turn away, to leave himself defenseless in her presence. Not trusting her enough to show his face. He was sweating, and in the light that spilled from the lamp upon his desk, Inej could see his hands twitching with the slightest tremor. She knew he was slipping, knew he was trying desperately to pull his armor on. But she was not here for Dirtyhands, and she had no time tonight for bastards. She thought about those names, the truths they carried with them. Could they really be titles for the man she was watching now? A boy who could not look her in the eye? No, the person that stood, half naked and shaking in this tiny little room, was neither of those things. This, she realized, this was simply

“Kaz,” she tried again.

“Leave,” and if she had known him any less she would have thought that he was serious.

“No,”

“Inej,” She was never sure how he could do that, how he could make her feel coveted and worshipped just by saying her name “ please ?” and his voice became a quiet, broken thing.

“No.” She said again, gentle as the breeze “I will not leave you, not like this,”

“I don’t want to see you,” it wasn’t a lie,

“You did great, Kaz, you’re making progress, ” and so was she, though she wasn’t sure Kaz realized it.

“Inej, get out,” he hissed, as if it hurt him to say the words.

“Why?”

He stiffened, and she bit back a smirk he hadn’t been expecting that . “I-” he hung his head.

She knew he didn’t have a reason, not one that he would admit to anyway “Is it because you don’t want me to see you like this? Because you’re worried you can’t give me what I want?” She tried to dampen the delight that bubbled in her chest, when she watched blotches of red blush paint the back of Kaz’s neck and spill down across his shoulder blades. “Is it because you feel ashamed?”

Kaz screamed with a rage she had seen up close only twice, a wild, guttural thing. When he got like this, destruction usually followed in his wake. As if on cue, Kaz slammed his hands down on the table, sweeping everything that rested there- every half drawn blueprint, ledger, and plan -onto the floor. His lantern tumbled with it as did a small wind up dog toy Kaz always kept sitting at his desk. The force of their impact caused both to shatter, sending pieces of glass and metal skidding across the hard wood floors. The paperwork took longer to fall, floating gently in the air around him like snow.

Kaz finally turned to face her, fury exploding behind his eyes. He wanted a fight, but Inej would never give him that satisfaction. When the dust settled, the anger that had possessed him had begun to burn low, confusion taking control of his posture and his brow when he finally saw Inej.

She had crossed her arms and tried her best to look bored. Based on his reaction it may have been working. “You can’t scare me away, Kaz,” It was the wrong thing to say, but it’s what he needed to hear.

The fire that flickered behind his eyes turned to ice, “I am the Bastard of the Barrel,” Kaz spit, stalking toward her, making sure to punctuate his words with the tapping of his cane against the wood. “I brought down Pekka Rollins, I conned Jan Van Eck, I broke into the Ice Court and made it out alive. Men run when they see me coming, parents tell their children I’ll steal them away in the night if they do not behave.” Kaz only stopped when her back was to a wall. He wanted her to feel cornered, he wanted her to feel trapped. On any other night, that may have worked, but she knew this was an act, and she had maneuvered herself so she was near the window, and he hadn’t seemed to notice.  “I scare who I damn well please,”

Inej could not hold back anymore, she hadn’t meant to do it, but she started to laugh. “That’s good,” Kaz blinked in surprise, his posture shifting, his grip loosening on his cane. She took a step forward, he took a step back. “I can see how that would work on most people. But I know you Kaz. Sure, you took down Pekka and Jan Van Eck...with help,” she took another step forward, reveling in Kaz’s retreat. “But you’ve also fainted in a carriage, nearly drowned in Djel’s river, and got embarrassed when Jesper’s Dad caught you two in a fist fight.” Kaz ducked his head to hide the redness rushing to his cheeks. She took another step forward, he ceded his territory. “You got good at palming cards and picking pockets not because you planned for a life of crime, but because you like magic tricks . You’ve lost a hat in every corner of Ketterdam,” Kaz lost his footing, his knees buckled beneath him, sending him tumbling onto his bed. With nowhere left for him to go, Inej smirked, and leaned in just far enough so he could hear her whisper. “And, when you wake up in the morning, your hair sticks up to one side. Jesper and I pretend not to notice, but we both think it’s adorable,”

Inej spun gracefully on her heel, gliding back towards the window, because she was not cruel and did not want Kaz to suffer...she didn’t want Kaz to suffer much . Kaz glowered at her, but seemed to otherwise have calmed. “You know,” Inej said when the silence grew too heavy. “I’ve been afraid of a lot of people since I came to Ketterdam,”

“Even Jesper?” Kaz asked eventually, she could tell from the cadence of his voice he was exhausted.

“Especially Jesper” Inej trusted Jesper with her life, he had brought so much chaos and joy into her world. But he was kind and charming in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Inej had had too many clients come to her, all smiles and compassion. Jesper scared her because she knew what kind and charming men could do. Kaz flinched and looked away.

“But not me?”

“No,” Inej wanted to touch his cheek, to smooth the worry that lined his forehead “Never you,”

Slowly, deliberately, Kaz stood. Inej’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes met his. He looked paler than usual, and maybe a little green, but his hands were still, his stance was steadier. He had locked his thoughts away, no emotion showing on his face, but there was a shine in his eyes Inej had seen before, when Kaz was trying to let go of hope. He quirked a single eyebrow at her, a challenge.

“I’ve been scared for you,” she admitted. “I’ve been scared to disappoint you, I’ve been scared of what it would do to me to lose you.” Inej stepped forward, already knowing what would happen, knowing that Kaz, having slipped away once already, would take a step back. But instead he stood rooted in place, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his cane.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve never looked at me the way everyone else does.” She considered the weight of the words on her tongue. “One day at The Menagare would have been enough to show me what kind of place Ketterdam truly was, and I spent a year inside it’s walls. I’ve collapsed beneath a million broken promises, but never yours. I’ve heard a million gentle lies, but never from you. I have felt a million….unwanted hands,” Inej wanted to shrink away into the shadows, but she refused to show her weakness, she refused to look away. Like magnets they were pulling toward each other until they were sharing the same air, until they were standing as each other’s equals in the center of the room. Inej held out her hand, not a demand, not a question, but a wish. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest when Kaz, without a moment’s hesitation, took her hand. He clenched his jaw, and drew a soft line across her palm with his thumb, it was a certainty, it was a promise. “But never yours,”

Kaz cleared his throat “I haven’t been scared of anyone since Jordie died,”

“Not even Jesper?” Inej teased, because she didn’t know what else to say.

Kaz bit back a smile “Never Jesper,”

“Not even me?” It was another joke, because she’d wanted to see more of that smile.

His face fell into something powerful and serious “I’ve always been scared of you, Inej,” she knew how much it must have taken for him to have admitted it. “From the moment you snuck up on me with bells on,”

“Really?” she could not hold the joy she felt at bay, it spread throughout her body, warming her all the way down to her toes.

Kaz nodded.

“But I was nothing then,”

“You have always been something.” Kaz corrected. “Back then you were Silence,”

“And now?” her eyes kept falling to his lips.

“You…” Kaz continued, leaning down, sending Inej’s heart into a frenzy she was worried she could never tame “should be going home,”

Inej scoffed, Kaz’s walls slipped down just long enough to let a small chuckle pass his lips. She would tuck that away in her memory, a look into the boy he could have been, a minute of vulnerability all for her. “That’s not fair! I told you mine!” If it had been Jesper standing in front of her, Inej would have backhanded his shoulder. But this was Kaz and he had done a lot tonight, she didn’t want to push her luck. Especially when she was enjoying this feeling of his hand in hers, she wasn’t looking to ruin it. “Come on Kaz,” she whispered, “why are you scared of me?”

He chewed his lip, and she could see the gears turning in his head, the debate he was conducting. Should he tell her the truth? Or keep his feelings a mystery and send her away. She was getting tired of being sent away. “Because I trust you.” Kaz said. “Because, you make me want to tell you everything. We deal in secrets, Inej, because we know that information can be more valuable than money. You’ve learned my patterns, you know my mind, you could unravel everything I have built with a single word to the right person,”

It was true, but it hurt. She pulled her hand from his, and regretted it. “You think that I would?”

“No,” he said it so fast, so sure that it knocked the air out of her lungs, it tore her voice from her throat. “And that is why you scare me. Because I know that thought has never crossed your mind.” He tugged gently at the bottom of her braid, twisting it around in his fingers. This was a system they had worked out months ago, for when Kaz wanted to be physical but the feeling of her skin was too much. “You are kinder and stronger than I will ever be and I am scared that-” he dropped her braid, placed both his hands atop his cane, and broke eye contact. “I am scared that you will finally see yourself for everything you are and know I am not worthy of your time or loyalty.”

“Kaz,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Because she couldn’t say I love you . The tension in the room, the cord that pulled the two of them together, was severed by the tolling of a clock.

Kaz broke first, eyes skirting to the city stretched out below them. “Goodnight, Inej,” he whispered, his voice rougher than usual.

“Goodnight,” she managed, slipping out of his window and vanishing into the night. Kaz watched her go until he could not feel her presence any longer, then he turned, and started picking up his mess. When Kaz woke the next morning, his heart stuttered in his chest. Sitting in the middle of his desk was a brand new wind up dog toy and laying next to it, reflecting the early morning sun was a geranium made out of glass.

[bitters-enthusiast]

birthday fic but belated

@timmys-and-scribbles i love you and i am sorry in advance if this is long and cheesy but

1. that’s julian and

2. that’s just showbiz babey

happy belated birthday bestie i hope you enjoy

“No, you don’t understand! Please, I’ll-- I’ll beg on my knees if I have to!”

Julian could be seen, and probably heard, from a block away pleading a poor man operating a gondola on the canal, and it didn’t look much like the man was giving in to him either. 

The man shook his head, planting his hands on his hips. “You-- you don’t have to get on your knees. But I still can’t do it, I’m sorry. It’s too short notice.”

The sob that came from the redhead next was anything but subtle, and he shoved his face in his hands. “Please. Please, sir, everyone else has cancelled on me. Don’t you want to be the minority?? Wouldn’t that be a more interesting story for you?? Please, I’ll pay double, I just need this ride tonight. It doesn’t have to be all night, even just an hour if I could--”

The gondola rower rolled his eyes. The dramatics were a bit much, but Julian had good selling points. “Fine! Fine, if it means you’ll leave me alone and I can get back to work, I’ll do it for double.” 

Julian almost screamed in excitement, and grabbed the man by his shoulders. He gave him a little shake, beaming a smile from ear to ear. “Thank you! Thank you, you’ve saved me. Thank you. I’ll see you in a few hours!”

--

After having shaken this man nearly to death, Julian decided it was time to start grocery shopping. If he was going to plan the perfect dinner for his perfect partner in crime, he wanted to have the perfect ingredients. After all, a pirate couldn’t ask someone to court him if he didn’t at least offer food and drink. . . right? 

He didn’t want to stress about it. This day was already a long time coming, but every time he thought he’d worked up the courage, he found it all lost again when Julianne teased him, or plotted with him another sneaky escapade. This woman definitely, without realizing, always kept him on his toes. And he wanted to return the favor, at least for tonight. Besides, a fun date never hurt anybody, even if he didn’t wind up asking her to be his girlfriend. 

The doctor spent about an hour or so shopping around for a dinner worth remembering. It took some time thinking of recipes he knew from the top of his head, but he settled on something fond from his childhood. Something Mazelinka almost always made, and almost everyone always liked it: soup. You couldn’t go wrong with a perfect soup dish paired with bread. Plus, looking for fresh ingredients and bartering with the merchants kept his mind off of the pent up anxiety he was feeling about everything. At least a dinner he was making by himself couldn’t be cancelled last minute. 

He’d finally settled on everything he needed, and was beginning to head back to the ship. He was carelessly swinging his bags back and forth, whistling a merry little tune to keep him in high spirits. 

The high spirits lasted all of five minutes to keep his mind off his worries.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Julianne, speaking to a familiar baker about eating some lunch. She was ordering some food when she caught him out of the corner of her eye, and excitedly called him over. 

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She wouldn’t notice the bags, right? Of course she’d notice the bags. But he could just pass it off as stuff for the crew! Or maybe he could just pretend as if he didn’t see her--

Of course he couldn’t do that. 

Awkwardly, he put his arms behind his back, the bags hanging over them. He gave a strange smile and headed toward Juli, giving a head nod of acknowledgement. 

“Heyyyyyyyy... how are, uh-- whatcha up to?”

The woman raised a brow, a smile on her lips as she had just finished joking with the baker. “I’m........ ordering food. Why are you being weird?”

Uh oh.

Julian gave a dismissive ‘psh”, his face turning into an expression of confusion. “I’m not being weird. You’re weird for asking that, Juli. Anyway, what’s on the menu? What’s, uh, what’s for lunch?”

Julianne immediately knew something was up, but she wouldn’t press him about it until later. For now, she’d give him a bit of a hard time about it to see if he’d spill. “Food. Looks like,” she leaned over a bit, just a small part of his groceries in view, “you also have food on the menu.”

He leaned the opposite way, trying to make the bags less noticeable from her angle. “Oh. Oh! These, right. Yeah, Cap sent me out for errands today. You know those men, uh, always hungry! Yeah, can’t go forever without snacking, even if there’s only four of them on ship!”

A small laugh came from Juli. Yeah, she’d have to find out later. “Right. Well, I have to go eat before I go back to my own errands. Would you like to join?”

Why’d she have to be so sweet?? It made him all the more nervous, and he wasn’t being a very convincing actor at the moment. “Oh, I wish I could, darling! But Cap has been on my ass this morning about staying on task! We all know how, um, fleeting time is! I’ve gotta go, don’t worry about me, I’ll see you later on board, right?”

Her eyebrow still raised, she adjusted her own bag and nodded. “Ri--”

“Okay! Perfect! Amazing, and even perfect, you could say. Oh. Wait, I said perfect twice. Anyway, farewell! See you tonight.”

Juli watched as Julian walked away backward, still trying to hide his groceries. As he finally got further away, he tried turning away quickly to take off running, but accidentally bumped into a busy woman passing by. He apologized promptly and profusely, making sure she was at least okay before taking off again. 

Yeah, he was up to something.

--

It finally had gotten darker outside, the sun setting as Julian strode back toward the boat. After a few hours, he had prepared dinner, finalized the gondola plans, and had even set up an nice surprise afterward to make sure everything was picture perfect. As if he hadn’t used the word ‘perfect’ to describe what he was going for all day. With his hands in his pockets, he’d finally settled down on his way back toward the ship, fairly confident in how the night would go.. at least for now. 

As he got closer to his familiar home of sorts, excited to meet Julianne and to get the night started after all this planning he’d done, Julian stops aboard the ramp of the ship, watching as Juli was mid-conversation with his crewmate and co-captain, Gerard.

Damn it. Here we go.

Forcing a smile, he stepped closer to hear their conversation.

A hearty laugh came from the crewmate, one that sounded incredibly devious to Julian’s desperate ears. “He really lied to your face like that, Miss Juli? Ah, you know I’d never treat you that way~”

Shut up. Shut up, Gerry. Not tonight.

Julianne would have been seen to smirk, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that he lied maliciously. I’ll still get him back for lying. But I know he’s doing something behind my back. I’m just confused as to what it is.”

Gerard leaned back against the rail of the ship, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Still. You know, it’s taken him far too long to commit to you. Maybe it’s time you give the ol’ captain a try. I,” a puff of his chest, and he placed his hand upon his heart, “wouldn’t have made you wait this long for me to meet up after lying to you, maiden.”

It was taking everything in Julian to not barge into their conversation immediately. The confidence he’d built on the way back was slowly diminishing, but he’d wait a few more seconds to see where this conversation went. 

“Co-captain, Gerard.” Julianne shook her head in amusement, also taking a seat on a nearby barrel. Might as well make herself comfortable as she waited. “How would Zora feel if she heard you giving yourself all the credit?”

“Hopefully very, very awfully.” Gerard chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair. “But my point remains. See how he still isn’t here? That just proves my--”

If Julian wasn’t known for dramatic entrances, then the sky wasn’t known to be blue. As if on cue, interrupting Gerard as he tried to make his “point” was easy as pie for Julian, and he climbed aboard with the biggest, most confident grin he could muster to save face. “Julianne, my love!” He greeted as if she were the biggest and most important guest he could ever serve, stepping between the two to swoop her into a hug. “I’m terribly sorry it took me so long to get back! I got caught in a scuffle between two men arguing, and you know I can’t resist a good fight.” The last lines were said between almost-gritted teeth, and Julianne pulled away from his hug reluctantly.

Like her expression was before at the marketplace, she had her eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Is that so? They didn’t happen to also be the ones to eat your snacks, were they?”

Gerard chuckled from behind, making himself comfortable both physically and in conversation. “I’d say Ilyushka has a bit of a hole to dig himself out of here, hmm?”

Begrudgingly, Julian turned to look at Gerard with the same forced smile. 

“Don’t you have a hole to dig yourself into, co-captain? Go find some buried treasure.”

A laugh from the man, as well as a clever reply, “Ah, but why would I go search for one when there’s one perfectly right before my eyes?” He flashed a smile in Julianne’s direction, and then gave an innocent, seemingly curious head tilt to Julian. “Oh, unless you couldn’t see that for yourself. It seems that eyepatch gets in the way of you looking past yourself and seeing what’s in front of you.”

The smirk began to fall from the redhead’s face, and he tried not to ball up a fist onto his friend right about now. In the end, he knew Gerry was teasing, but it didn’t make the blow less hard on his ego.

Julianne wasn’t naive to the tension; she started to make off-topic conversation. “I think Gerard is talking about the wine that Zora brought back after making a deal with the bartender down the street. Something about bringing back some of that Salty Bitters stuff from Vesuvia that you like so much. He wanted to advertise something new.”  

“Right. The wine is the treasure I was talking about.” A final chuckle from Gerard and he stood, clapping a hand against Julian’s shoulder. “Save me some dessert, Ilya. You know where my room is. Send her my way.”

“Bye, Gerry. Have a good night.” Julian pulled away slightly, looking his friend up and down.

Gerard gave a hum of triumph, and pulled his hand away. On his way toward the steps downstairs, he gave a final “You know I will.” in reply.

Once he was finally out of view, Julian deemed it safe to turn back to Juli for conversation. “I am.... so, so sorry, Juli. I know you’ve been waiting for a while.”

“I know you heard the conversation with Gerard.” She replied, placing her hands upon his shoulders. “I’ve been here for a whole of ten minutes. You know how he is. Dramatic.”

He gave a soft scoff in return, rolling his eyes. “More than I am sometimes.”

With a laugh, Julianne pulled her hands away, but not before giving him a gentle pat to the face. “Not quite.” Getting up from the seat she’d made herself, she patted down the dirt that’d gotten on her dress from doing so. “Anyway, are you finally done acting weird, or are you going to keep me on my toes.”

“Well.......” Julian gave a shrug, “Hopefully the latter. But not in a bad way, I swear. I do.”

The woman only gave him a pointed glare in response. In defense, he gently took hold of her hand, and began to lead her off the ship.

“Here. Just follow me.”

--

The doctor had finally gotten Juli all to himself. After all the shenanigans of the day, he could finally wind down and listen to her talk about her day. Her errands, odd customers, the odds and ends of magic that he enjoyed listening to her go on and on about. It was what gave him some sense of normalcy among the absurdity that he endured on the regular. The gondola ride had gone smoothly, and he had definitely given the rower far more than he was worth. If not just for the theatrics and the experience, he hoped that Juli enjoyed it. Maybe she’d grown suspicious of him throughout the day, but he wanted to make it up to her.

They talked about a woman who’d called Julianne in to help cleanse her home, not knowing the “cleanse” wasn’t anything spiritual -- it was because the woman had attempted far too many cleaning spells and caused an overgrowth in weeds in her garden and magic cobwebs in her corners. Julianne had to explain that “cleansing” a house didn’t actually mean to clean it.

How cute. How cute, how cute. 

An hour or so had gone by, and after their ride, they both thanked the rower tremendously. They’d even gotten a complimentary bottle of wine and a basket of fruit -- or maybe the rower was being kind since Julian had paid him so handsomely. 

Then, he took Julianne back toward the shore. 

He had taken hold of her hand and not let go, leading her down the beach close to the docks their ship had stopped on. He was sure she probably thought something odd was going to happen by the end of the night, but he wanted to make sure she enjoyed her time nonetheless. 

As they walked, he made soft conversation.

“You know, the ocean is a view I could never get sick of. It’s so beautiful. And when the moonlight hits it just right--” he gave a chef’s kiss of sorts with his free hand.

“I guess that’s a good thing, considering you’re on a ship the majority of your time.” Juli teased, giving him a gentle nudge. “But I think so too. It’s very captivating. Calming, even.”

“Like you, hmm?” Turning his gaze from the ocean to Juli, he gave a wink. 

With a fond roll of her eyes, she laughed a little. “You’re still being weird.”

“What? No. This is just regular ol’ Ilya.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

He grinned in turn, a grin full of absolute adoration. It was getting easier to rebuild that confidence from earlier. 

They continued their playful banter, all the way up until hey reached a hidden little cove, a tucked away cave of sorts, with a light shining from within. They were far away enough now that the lamps in town seemed like blur now, and Julian preferred it that way for what he had been planning. 

Julianne stopped, looking up at her partner with a confused expression. “What’s this?”

He let go of her hand, make sure he didn’t seem as if he were coming off maliciously. They had met, after all, under the guise that he was a murderer on the run. Julian offered one of his grins, the sweet kind, the kind that made you want to follow him into the unknown on an adventure you wouldn’t want to return from. 

“Just dinner. You trust me, right? You don’t still think I’m a weirdo?”

“Well. I definitely do.” 

A laugh came from Julian, and he just shook his head. He continued forward into the cave, giving her a nod to follow. 

She did, and as they entered, a small table Julian had stolen off the ship was sitting in the middle of the cave, lit candles surrounding it in the sand below to keep light inside. On the table sat dinner: two bowls covered to stay warm, bread on either side of them, a great big glass of wine in the center of the table, and two glasses for one each. 

With a great big swoop of his arm, he gestured toward the set up with a smile.

“Well, here’s the thing I was acting strange about. I just wanted... to set up something nice for the both of us.”

After her jaw had dropped at the initial shock, Juli turned to the man with a growing smile, and she genuinely looked impressed. “I’m surprised you could keep a secret this long.” Although she teased, she found his dinner setup rather charming. Nothing short of the extravagance he made for himself since the day she met him. 

He continued forward once more, pulling one of the chairs out for her to sit. Once she was seated, he also took a seat, and began to pour them each a glass of wine to drink. 

“Also, I stole this wine. This is the one Zora brought back, and Gerard is probably looking for now. Serves him right trying to steal my thunder.”

The woman laughs, reaching for her glass once it’s filled. “They’re going to kill you.”

He shrugged yet again, his signature smirk puling at his lips. “Worth it, if not just for the thrill of the escape.”

As Julian reached to uncover the bowls, a warm, earthy and flavorful aroma takes over the cave, and he explains his escapade to gather ingredients. Making the food proved to be a pain, having to bribe the ship’s cook to let him take over the kitchen to prepare their food, and to help him set everything up while he was out on the gondola ride with Julianne. He talked about how he now owed the cook kitchen duty for a week, and had to scrub the inside of the old hearth to make up for it. But it was worth it for him, to see how much she enjoyed his childhood favorite food. All the more memories to create, even if it was just soup.

Throughout dinner, it seemed as though Julian had about finished off the bottle of wine by himself. He was getting a little tipsy, and a bit more nervous toward the end of them eating. If only he had more liquid courage to help him out.

Julianne noticed how awkward he’d begun to get as dinner went on. When they finally cleared their bowls, he started going on about the importance of the correct shoes in acting. Something was up. 

She reached for his hands, which were getting ready to pour the last few drops of alcohol into his glass.

“Ilya, tell me what’s the matter.” Her voice was soft compared to his big, velvety tone. He couldn’t help himself, not in this state of mind.

“I- no, nothing’s the matter! I’m just saying, how can you frolic about in a tunic and boots? Sure they look great for the aesthetic and for the costume, but you need the smaller and more rounded shoes to move around the stage more fleetly.”

“You’re talking about shoes, Julian, after we just had a nice dinner in a fancy set up in a remote cave.” She laughed a little at the situation, and gave his hands a little squeeze. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She was right. And he knew that she was. He hadn’t spent all day preparing for this moment to talk about how quick your movements need to be on stage. He had put all of this off long enough. Hell, for months. He was surprised she’d even stuck around that long, unless she thought this was all totally platonic. 

“Yeah. Yes. Yes, there-- there is something I have on my mind.” He let out a slow sigh, mentally preparing himself for his little speech. He knew that she would listen to every word, even if he slurred and stuttered his way through it. Her touch gave him a bit of sobering up, and in turn, he moved his hands to grab hers instead, leaning in closer to her presence.

“I.. hm. I’ve known you for quite a while now. And, for some reason, it feels like I’ve known you far longer than the several months we’ve been adventuring together. I don’t even know if that’s what you’d call it-- never mind. Regardless, darling, it feels like I’ve known you longer than a lifetime. Like I’ve known you since a life too distant to remember. And you... Julianne, you just seem so familiar. You met me thinking that I was a murderer. A fugitive. And even then, even after you thought I was using you, you stuck. You stuck with me. Up until then, I struggled so hard to find something like home. You gave me a chance, and I can tell you haven’t regretted it thus far. I just... don’t ever want to have to just remember you again. I want you to stick around. You’re perfect to be around. My perfect adventuring find. My... my perfect partner. We’ve never made any official call for what this is, and... I know this is all so ridiculous and grandiose and seems like some sort of proposal. In... in a way, it is. I just--” he lets his head fall, and he takes a pause, before he looked back up into Julianne’s face. “Please, little dove, would you give a pirate a chance and just call yourself mine already?”

...

Julianne, flustered, and unsure of how to respond in the immediate moment, searched Julian’s eyes for his genuine feelings. It was a long search -- after all, he’d just poured his onto the table, practically. This wasn’t at all a surprise, they had in fact been in some rut of infatuation without ever having admitted it to one another. It was always just implied. But here they were now, Julian basking in all of his monologuing glory...

Before she could respond, he was quick to make a joke, giving her hands a squeeze as she did his before he had come clean. “Plus, now I’m less likely to get in trouble for starting a fight with Gerard, seeing as how we’d be an official couple rather than just flirting, fleeting friends.”

Julianne shook her head, letting it fall as she let out a laugh. “You... are quite simply the most unbearable person I’ve ever met. In the best way possible.” Looking back up, he simply gave a friendly and teasing shrug in response, and she leaned in to seal the space between them with a kiss.

It wasn’t long before it grew passionate, one full of longing and hope from both of them. It would be hard for Julian to pull away, had he not been wait for a response. Before he let the kiss get carried away, he pulled back, a hand pressed to Juli’s face. 

“So?”

She looked him in the eyes, lifted a hand toward his face, and promptly gave him a flick to the nose.

“Ow!?” His brow furrowed, “What was that for??”

“For lying to my face earlier. I just needed you to know I didn’t forget.”

A huffy laugh came from the redhead as he reached to rub at his nose, now stinging slightly in pain. “Alright. Noted.”

She offered a final, soft smile, reaching to gently swipe her thumb over his nose in comfort. The woman then reached in for a soft peck. “I’ll be your girlfriend, Ilya. Or rather, your co-captain.” 

Julian beamed taking her face into both of his hands. “Oh, I’m so glad. As co-captain, can your first duty be to teach me an adjective other than ‘perfect’? I’m a doctor, not a novelist.”

“Sure. But only if you teach me one rather than ‘weird’,” Juli offered in reply.

“Good, good. But uh, can we wait until after dessert?”

“Didn’t Gerard ask you to save him some?”

“Oh, no. Gerry can starve. I’m sneaking dessert back into my room.”

[arixabala]

Word find tag 2: electric boogaloo

And another one! Thanks @the-writing-reader! My words are rise, below, alone, soft, and together. We’re back at it with Under Your Sky; I tried the other wip but it was too short to have all the words.

Rise:

Slava spent weeks being pushed from menial task to menial task, until finally he found his home with the high-rise team. The site manager, Marshall Noriega, was so desperate that for the first time since Slava had worked there he addressed the whole company to advertise the vacant position. Not a single person made to volunteer.

“This role is crucial for meeting our deadlines, and the worker will of course be compensated appropriately-”

“Bet it’s just like flying, huh, space boy?” Isaac muttered. 

Slava stayed silent and focused intently on his interrupted lunch. 

He nudged Slava with his elbow. “What’s flying feel like?”

The way he existed in space was absolutely not flying. Slava stared straight ahead and pretended he hadn’t heard. 

Isaac snapped his fingers in front of Slava’s face. “Come on, you spacey bitch.” 

“Isaac.” Kelly shot him a brief warning look before turning his attention back to the site manager, who had yet to finish his spiel. 

“As if you’re even listening to his bullshit, you goody-two-shoes.”

Slava abruptly stood and called out, “I’ll do it!”

Below:

Today the ocean was so gray it faded into the smokey sky at the horizon, and the tides were as calm as he’d ever seen. Slava stripped down to his underwear, tucked his clothes securely under a rock, and walked into the water. The coldness was a respite from the heat at first, but by the time the water lapped his stomach he clenched and began to shiver. The heaviness of the lapping waves was now familiar to him, as was the addictive floating feeling when he tried to propel himself off the rocks. Slava took deep breaths and let the ground drift away from his feet, managing to stay suspended in mid-water a little longer every time. Finally, for the first time, he dunked his head under.

The feeling wasn’t as close to the nostalgia of weightlessness as he’d hoped. There was no ground below him and no sense of the direction of up, but there was no up because the water crushed him equally on all sides. He felt like he was moving through ice-cold pudding, and the shock inadvertently dragged in a sharp intake of breath through his nose. Cold water stung his nose and flooded his throat, which made him flail and choke on even more. It tasted salty and foul. The understanding of “up” returned all at once as he broke the surface, heaving and spitting out water. 

Alone:

“You’ll tell me what it’s like when you get to go, won’t you?”

“You don’t think you’ll ever go?”

Kelly chuckled and shook his head. “It’s not the direction I’m putting my money. Maybe if I’m really lucky the space program will come with some kind of perk to let me go down, I don’t know. I’d only want to do it if I could go alone though; the people coming through kind of ruin it.” He nodded in the direction Noriega and his group had gone and laughed again. 

Slava glanced at the posh little group with their fussy expensive respirators, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. “I thought you were supposed to be a goody-two-shoes.”

Soft:

There was a soft knock at the door, a useless courtesy considering it wasn’t shut. Slava rubbed his wet eyes and squinted at the figure in the doorway, which he came to recognize as Kelly Nehar. 

“What?” The word came out harsh; Slava was far too exhausted for Issy. Every conversation came like pulling teeth between his own and everyone else’s ineptitude with the language. All these Earth people spoke so aggravatingly quietly too; half the conversation was repeating “what” at each other.

Kelly, unperturbed, shrugged and pulled up a chair to his bedside. “Dr. Xu sent me away. I have come to, um, see?”

“Visit?”

“Visit!” 

Slava sighed and forced himself to speak the slowest, clearest Issy he could muster. “Why are you visiting me?”

Together:

The space between the buildings grew and their size shrank as the two made their way to the outskirts of the city, until finally they reached Kelly’s home. It was a nondescript metal box made from an old cargo container, with one door and few windows. From afar it almost reminded Slava of a ship, but as they approached he noticed corners and uneven seams along the outer hull that were so odd to him. The inside was stranger still, chairs and tables and counters all attached to just one surface, and so many loose items strewn about but weighed down to their spots. Slava sank into one of the chairs and stretched his legs out while he looked around. 

“It’s a bit small but it’s all mine.” Kelly gestured around the room, grinning widely. “Stay as long as you need, seriously.” 

“I do well in small spaces. Spacer, and all.” He gave a thin-lipped smile at Kelly’s mortified expression. “It’s really just you here? Isn’t that lonely?”

“No,” he said all too quickly. 

Slava wrung his hands together. “Oh. Well I’ll be gone soon. I have money, I’ll buy one of these little houses.” 

He gave a sympathetic smile. “Have you checked your bill yet? Maybe don’t make any promises until you know what you owe Dr. Xu. Stay as long as you need, it’s really no trouble. Hell, maybe I’ll be on a ship before long and you can keep the place if you’re still here.”

Tagging anyone who thinks Kelly being a goody-two-shoes is endearing (or anyone who just wants to do this). Your words are ragged, run, really, and wrath.

[asclepius-erebus]

Nevarro

Title: Personal Eden (Ongoing)

Chapter 3: Nevarro

Rating: Mature (17+)

Word Count: 4.3k

TW: mentions of abuse (lmk if I should include any more!)

The next day, as anticipated, you land on Nevarro, where upon disembarking a flurry of droids scurry up to the ship.

“Hey!” Mando yells, paralyzing all the droids, “No droids!”

You learn that the baby is not in fact Mando’s, but a foundling he’d taken up first as a quarry but then adopted. You’re not sure what’s so special about this child, but for it to have a bounty over it’s head before it can intelligibly speak seemed cruel enough, and you don’t ask any further questions.

You also learned that Mando is a man of few words. He tends to keep his responses curt and to-the-point; and never straying away from the subject of conversation. From your observation, he has not gone onto tangents or disclosed any new information, willingly, that did not immediately pertain to the topic. It made it even more difficult for you to learn anything new about him, his character, humors, and appearance. He is a complete mystery, and yet you find him fascinating all the while he continues to intimidate with both his outward appearance, and lack of openness.

The day on Nevarro is grey despite the sky being totally clear. The landscape isn’t strikingly beautiful like some of the other planets you’ve been on with Malsifer. It’s gritty, dusty, and terribly suffocating. The air feels dense and warm, that kind that made you feel sticky and uncomfortable. The sky is a dull blue, but blue nontheless.

Since joining Mando on his ship, he’d allowed you the time to wash off the caked on makeup from the other night, some of which you’d cried off, like your ruby red lips. It was a nice color, you were fond of how well it complimented your skin and the shape of your lips- but it had overstayed its time on your face and it was time for it to go.

However, upon stepping onto the rough planet, you realize how out of place you appear to be. Not only is the green alien child perched on your hip and babbling to himself, but you’re still dressed in what Mando had rescued you in a few days ago. The wispy fabrics fluttered in the subtle warm breezes, carrying with them the muted but bright colors of an oceanside sunset of lavender, magenta, and gold. You felt exposed among the muted and dark colors that Mando and his child limited themselves to, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Mando’s child begins to fuss, deciding that he wanted to meander around in the dirt as Mando took a few steps towards an unfamiliar man. The man is of a darker complexion, though his beard and hair suggests he is of a wiser age, and extended a friendly hand to shake. They must already know each other.  

The child giggles and laughs, grasping and tossing any rocks he finds on the ground. You crouch to his level, structuring his play by tossing him back the rocks he’d thrown. From this, he giggles excitedly.

~~

“Greef.” Mando greets the aging man, Greef Karga, approaching him at the opening to the city, densely lined with clay houses and open markets. It teems with a unique variety of inhabitants and passersby- like Mando, who does not stand out in the crowd as obviously as the brightly colored dresses his new acquaintance was dressed in. That, was something he’d address soon enough.

“Mando.” Greef smiles, eyes lighting up upon seeing the familiar helmet, “How are you old friend?”

Mando looks over his shoulder at his companions before returning his attention to Greef, “Surprised to be back. What are you doing out here?” He asks with a tired sigh.

Greef raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “I’m just as surprised to see you out here… Tying up a few loose ends. Who’s your new friend?”

Mando hooks his gloved fingers at the top of his chest plate, resting his arms casually over himself and relieving some of the weight of the Beskar on his shoulders, “That’s who I’m here to find some information about. She’s one of Malsifer’s.”

“Malsifer?” Greef’s eyes widen, “What is she? A quarry?”

Mando’s helmet shakes, “No, Malsifer was. Malsifer had an indentured servant situation and I need to know more about her… Anything would be useful, but especially any bank records.” Mando says quietly, sliding a small note with the name of his newest crewmate scribbled onto it.

Greef looks down at the note inquisitively, “Malsifer, huh? Doesn’t surprise me… He always rubbed me the wrong way… Though I’m not surprised that his luck, or lack of it, finally caught up to him.”

“She’s got no where to go. Is there any way you can find out anything about her that’s useful…?”

Greef looks between Mando and the cooing child and woman behind him, and then down at the name on the note, “Get back to me in an hour or two.”

~~

Mando turns to wave yourself and the baby to his side, the man with whom he was conversing with turning away and headed into the city.

“What was that about?” You ask, the baby occupying itself with a metal ball he’s produced from his bundle of clothing.

“Business.” He says briefly.

Business. You think to yourself, the most colorful response I’ve gotten since I boarded.

With the baby balanced on your hip, Mando navigates you both through the streets of a busy marketplace. Vendors line the streets and advertise their products and produce, crafts, and other items for sale, all ranging in complexity and beauty that you admire from a distance. The baby on your hip is thoroughly entertained with all the sights, sounds, and colors, teething on a pastry he managed to swipe off a vendor when they weren’t looking.

Of course you attract some attention. Not only did it not help that the baby you tote clearly is not yours, but your impractical and fluttering dresses had other passerby step and trip on them as you went- sending you a few gross side-eyes and raised eyebrows. You clutch what you can in your hands as you follow Mando’s glistening helmet through the crowd.

He approaches a stand fluttering with colorful fabrics, handcrafted designs embroidered to the hems of cloaks, dresses, and shirts. They’re all so pretty and wonderful to look at.

Mando begins a conversation with a middle aged woman at the stand in her native language, her weathered face and dark eyes glancing at you from time to time as Mando continues to explain something to her. She raises her hand and counts on her fingers as she explains something to him in response, Mando filling her palm with a few coins. Pleased, she nods and produces a neatly folded up wad of fabric. She extends it towards you with a forced but friendly smile.

“Something to cover yourself with for now…” Mando explains, “Later, on the ship, I can find you some clothes.”

Accepting the folded fabric, you briefly study its particular shade of purple. It’s dark and neutral, almost barely detectably purple should someone care enough and stare long enough at you. You unfold it to find an opening, and you slip it over your head, a hood catching on you as the rest of the fabric settles on your shoulders and over your torso. The baby gets caught in it too, but frees himself with a shake of his enormous head. It is a cloak, the fabric feeling pleasurably heavy on your figure and comfortable on your bare shoulders. It feels protective and warm, but breathable and completely functional as an everyday garment. Not only does it feel well, but it conceals you much better amongst everyone else.  

“I buy my cloaks off her.” Mando responds simply, the first time he’s shared a new fact about himself, “She’s also going to find you a pair of shoes.”

He’s right. Perhaps the pair of sandals tied at your ankles aren’t the best fit for a shoe to be blundering around planets with. It was certainly enough for the occasions you accompanied Malsifer to meeting his clients, and the extent of your time out in the elements was limited to barely nothing. Malsifer concerned himself more with whether you appeared to his liking and aesthetics.

The older woman returns, producing a short pair of dark brown leather boots of a matte finish. They are simple and easy to slip on, with no intricate buckles, zippers, or ties. They hug your feet comfortably and accomplishes all the criteria necessary for being a practical piece of footwear.

Mando glances around and hands the woman a few extra coins, nodding in thanks as she accepts them and waves kindly at the child on your hip.

“Thank you.” You tell Mando as the three of you walk away from the stand of fluttering fabrics. He doesn’t react, at least as far as you can observe from the faceless helmet that you looked at when speaking to him.

“We have some time before we meet up with Greef again.” Mando says, ignoring what you’d said, “We can-“

“-Take a look around.” You interrupt, your curiosity about the rest of the market piqued. Surely there were other useful and interesting things the three of you can look at other than the four metal walls of Mando’s ship.

Mando agrees, but you’re not necessarily sure if it was from acquiescence or genuine concurrence.

It is difficult to read him, you’ve noticed it bothering you, without any facial expressions and other visual cues to clue you into his mood. His body language was often also very grey and difficult to deduce. This is unlike what you’ve relied on in the past to understand and predict other people’s behaviors. Malsifer was an individual very prone to giving himself way via his expressions and tone of voice, which made it easier to clue you into how you should respond, if at all. It’s natural to rely on social cues in order to know how to respond to a given situation, but with Mando, it feels quite the contrary.

He strolls with you at a relaxed pace, his hand firmly placed on the hilt of his blaster he keeps attached to his waist.  

Your eyes flicker between his helmet and his hand. You’d seen him use his blaster with deadly precision, it drove you to tears to see the barrel trained at the space between your eyes. You hadn’t heard of stormtroopers being as accurate, and you question what he is, and what he represents. You can already deduce that he’s a bounty hunter, why else would he be looking for quarry? But why the child? Why the armor? And why the ship you’d finally observed to be very Old Republic.

“Mando-“ You begin to ask curiously…“Can I ask you a question?”… cautiously.

“Sure.” He says simply, his helmet turning to observe a long blaster rifle on display at a vendor.

“Where are you from?”

Mando’s helmet continues to follow the long rifle as he walks away, “No where. I was a foundling.”

“A foundling from where?” You ask again. “Who found you?”

“I don’t remember.” He says dryly, his gaze returning forward as he scans the vendors again till something catches his eye… visor.

“So then what’s with the armor?”

He stops midstride, and you sense that you’ve either said something wrong or insulted him in some way.

Your cheeks immediately feel like their burning despite the chill that raced down your spine. You blink back a million-and-one thoughts and possibilities on how he might respond. Was he mad? Dumbfounded? Absolutely furious? It’s too hard to tell. By the way he’d stopped and now turned his head towards you, your hands clench into a fist- not prepared to strike, but to brace.

He chuckles. He chuckles. Warmly, softly, and bemusedly, his modulated blitheness is musical and so incredibly comforting. You’re not sure how you should react. It’s not the reaction you’d braced yourself for. After all, you’d insulted him, didn’t you?

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never seen Mandalorian armor before?” He asks, resuming the slow pace he took beside you.

You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you resume walking a few paces behind him. The child, unbothered, continues to chew on the pastry and inquisitively looks between yourself and Mando.

“I’m surprised Malsifer never let you see one.” He says, “No wonder you seemed pretty scared when I was there.”

You’d kept your gaze down at your feet as you walked, feeling ashamed to ask a dumb question in the first place. Of course you knew what a Mandalorian was, but you’d only ever read about them in flimsi books you’d managed to smuggle in and out of Malsifer’s library. They seem downright fictional, down to their very demeanors of being militant and mute. It didn’t help that the only information accessible to you came in bound flimsi books that in itself was probably older than yourself or Malsifer’s combined existence. You’d never seen their armor, at least not the kind that Mando was sporting in pure Beskar and with a helmet that looked too much like a storm trooper’s. You’d sooner expect he was an ex-trooper, or someone who simply stole or bought their armor.

“It was terrifying.” You admit softly, “You, pointing a blaster in my face. Doesn’t help that you’ve got all that armor.”

You see his boots stop moving and turn towards you. You still keep your gaze down, distracting your hands with the child’s robes as the crumbs of his treat fell from his face.

“Look at me.” He says sternly, and you obey, looking up into his visor, “You need to… unlearn whatever this is.”

You chew your lip, intimidated by his presence so close and so powerful over you. You fight yourself and your nervous glances away from the glare of his visor.  

“I don’t know what Malsifer put you through, but here, with us… none of it.” He continues, “Can’t have you walking behind me like some shadow, not with my kid.” He takes a step back from you and turns away, but stops.

His shoulders drop and his demeanor softens, “You were walking next to me.” He says, awaiting for you meet him at his side, “You were saying…”

Meeting up with him, the child in your arms coos and reaches out to Mando, who scoops him up from your grasp and you hide your arms under the cloak. He is right, it’s different with Mando and his kid. This is an equal playing field where you’re a part of a cohort of other individuals just like you. Of course, Mando is the leader, he provides, flies, and protects. The new dynamic is refreshing, but old habits are hard to beat. Which isn’t a natural nor healthy response. But neither was being caned across your knees and shins if you didn’t do so.

Mando stops at a vendor selling a wide assortment of things. They all seem extremely random, from switchboards to datatapes to bacta kits. Perhaps these are things the vendor was able to scavenge off broken ships and droids, this isn’t the first time you’d seen scrap collectors try to sell off what they can’t trade at a refinery. You’ve heard of such beings called Jawas who are infamous for such scavenging, but you also know that they’re not entirely open to the idea of selling what they find.

Mando strikes up a conversation with the vendor, a tall and slender specimen with small black eyes and three digits on each of their four arms. They’re haggling, is what you can assume, as Mando shakes his head and points to a well-stocked bacta kit on the table. The vendor insists on a certain price, counting it off on his palms before accepting a deal with Mando’s budget. He swipes the bacta off the table, and tosses it.

You catch it and immediately hide it under your cloak. Mando notices, walking away from the vendor saying, “Keep that there, don’t want him noticing he let me take the wrong one.”

His dry friendliness is welcoming, it made you feel like you were walking with a friend rather than a tank. The child giddily had finished his snack and entertained himself with his metal ball, which now you’d deduced was from a switch or lever, likely coming from the cockpit of the ship.  

“So… your armor. Mandalorian?” You ask, keeping pace with him.

He nods, “Mandalorian.”

You think back to what you’d read about in the flimsis, “If I recall correctly, some Mandalorians choose to keep their helmets on? Or do all of you have to wear it all the time?”

Mando nods, “When I swore to the creed, I swore to keep my identity secret. It’s part of our code.”

“So ‘Mando’ isn’t your real name?” You ask.

“No.”

“So what is your name?”

“Mando.”

You furrow your brows, not wanting to press further. You admire the devotion, despite it frustrating you further. You wanted to learn more of him, but now you know that such learning can no longer pertain to his appearance, and you must now learn his character. Though it wasn’t the only thing weighing on your curiosity, you’ve already begun building his profile.

Like you’d learned during your time in hyperspace that he is a man of not-so-many words. He isn’t aptly good at beginning a conversation, and usually such conversations are limited to small talk on the basis of his work and ship… But that had been debunked when he disclosed that he gets his cloaks from the woman at the colorful stand, and joked to you about the bacta-kit hidden away under your cloak. You hope he will reveal more of himself to you with time. You’re patient enough for that.

You respect that his physical appearance as an extension of his anonymity. It’s not the only instance where you’ve experienced the sort of veiling that came with particular religions, cultural identities, and personal choices. It will be up to him to disclose what he wants and when- it would be rude of you to pester. It’s not your place.  

The three of you walk leisurely, stopping occasionally to look at something interesting at a stall before returning into the direction of the ship. In the distance, you observe the man from earlier standing and waiting for you, Greef, you remember Mando mentioning the name.

Mando hands you the child back into your arms, “Get back on the ship.” He instructs, and you nod, the baby beginning to doze off to sleep in your arms.

~~

“What did you find?” Mando asks taking a few steps towards Greef and out of earshot from his new crewmate.

Greef’s usually friendly smile is thin, “I found one result for her name, one that appears on an obituary. According to the systems, she’s technically dead.”

Mando exhales sharply, disappointed, and curiously tipping his head to the side, “So, what? How long has she been ‘dead’?”

“Five years.” Greef says bleakly, “And she has no digital footprints anywhere. No record of her ever even having an account to hold credits, or receipts from anywhere that she’s spent credits.”  

Mando looks back in the direction of his ship, watching you board the Razor Crest with the child in your arms, how tenderly you hold his head and attend to his sleepy babbling. This is unfortunate news, that Mando would need to tell you sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando admits quietly, your silhouette disappearing in the ship.

Greef clears his throat, “I know this is none of my business, but the baby seems to like her, it’s pretty obvious… Until she can figure things out on her own, she can stick around, learn a thing or two, and you’ll have someone who can take care of the kid when you have jobs.”

Mando nods, “This isn’t the first time Malsifer faked someone’s death just to drain their accounts?”

“It’s also not the first time he’s trapped pretty young girls into being his personal assistants.” Greef says, raising an eyebrow in Mando’s direction.

“He abused them.” Mando says, “If it wasn’t for their money, what else did he need them for?”

Greef shrugs, folding his arms across his chest, “Malsifer seemed like the controlling type… He liked being in control of anything and everything important to him which is money and power. I don’t think she was a part of anything more sinister, but I certainly wouldn’t rule it out.”

“I’ll find that out more when she feels like talking. Right now… I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando crosses his arms.

Greef looks back at the ship behind Mando and back to his visor, “Let her stay until she can figure something out for herself. She can be useful while you work, keep the ship and the kid safe while you’re out…”

Mando nods again in agreement, “It’s my only option right now. Thank you… for your help.”

Greef smiles, “Anytime, old friend.”

--

Mando appears on the ship shortly after you’d put the child to sleep in his shiny egg-like crib. He’d tired himself out from the morning shopping and was happily full of whatever pastry took him the entire walk to eat.

You’d put the bacta pack in the bacta kit soldered on the metal of ship and managed to clear out some of the dust that had blown into the hull while the door was open. You’d observed Mando’s ship to not only be Old Republic but also just old in general. Though it is in excellent flying condition for its age, it lacked in amenities that more modern ships had like touch-pads instead of buttons and actually finished floors and walls. Either Mando is a man of old fashion, or simply too preoccupied to take care of his ship like others do.

He is quiet, walking up and down the hull checking lights, buttons, datapads, and other things. While he did that, you patiently sit on the familiar wedge prepared to strap into the metal wall and prepare for take-off. Your hands occupy themselves with the hang nails that plague your fingers.

You see, from the corner of your eye, something tan and grey. Looking up, it was Mando, handing off to you a pile of clothing he’d gathered in his quiet pacing around the hull.

“Thank you.” You say softly, standing to get to the fresher.

Mando nods, “Meet me in the cockpit, we need to talk.” And he turns before you can ask any questions. He disappears up the ladder.

The cockpit? You think to yourself curiously, what in the worlds does he want to talk about?

The mirror in the fresher is just reflective enough to call itself a mirror. It clearly once existed as a piece of scrap that Mando had repurposed to decorate the blank wall above the sink. But it fulfilled its purpose in reflecting back the visage of yourself you present every day.

Today, you look tired.

Dark circles around your eyes hint at some much needed deep sleep and the tired squint you gave to yourself only emphasizes this.

You look at the clothing Mando handed to you, consisting of a large white shirt and some pants that definitely needed to be tailored to accommodate your height and lack of… lower… masculine features. These are clearly articles of clothing Mando has no use for, and you’re thankful for them despite Mando’s somewhat apparent reluctance.

You undo yourself from your dress, somewhat sad to see the magical colors fall to the floor in a wispy heap. This was healthy though, a transition into a different person. After all, you’re fulfilling the prophecy you’d begun to brainstorm the first night aboard the ship: a change of clothes.

The shirt is square, harsh but hemmed edges of fabric for sleeves, a collar, and buttons to secure said collar closed. It sat rather high on your neck, so you keep the first two buttons undone, one side of the collar falling open to reveal the raw edge of the hem. The sleeves were of a comfortable length, also squared off with a button for cuff-links that you undo and gently fold up your forearm.

Looking back up at yourself in the mirror, you look like a little girl trying on her father’s clothes. It’s clear that they’re too big, but you make do with tucking and folding where you can. But the broad and structured shoulders the shirt gave you made you feel… bigger? Something about it made you feel more robust.

The pants are… another story. Of course they sat a little low on your hips and were too loose around the area where you lacked the facilities of a man. But the utilities of having so many pockets and places to stow away small items brought you some small joy as you cuff the pants around your ankles and tuck the shirt into them.

You style your hair simply up, anything to keep it away from your face and off your shoulders till it’s time to wash and you think what to do about them then.

Looking back into the crusty mirror, though your eyes see themselves, a whole new person has taken shape behind them. It felt foreign to you to appear so fresh-faced, neutral, and unassuming in a world where Malsifer demanded you always looked your best as an extension of himself and his appearance. That usually translated in wearing makeup on a near-daily basis, and extravagant colorful gowns to even the most casual of events.

The dress is a pastel mess on the floor of the fresher, and looking down at it, you feel a twinge of guilt for having to abandon it. It’s pretty…

You bundle it up and head out from the fresher.

You walk quietly across the hull, your bare feet making light patting noises as you went. Sitting at the wedge in the wall, you ditch the dress behind you and slip on your boots again before standing up, and head towards the cockpit like Mando told you to.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Take a different turn

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV)

Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood Magnus Bane & Raphael Santiago (mentioned) Alec Lightwood & Izzy Lightwood (mentioned) Izzy Lightwood/Meliorn (mentioned)

Alec Lightwood is a practical man, who happens to have an all-black house because it just makes things easier for him.

Magnus Bane is the witch that lives across the street from him, in a house covered in flowers and plants, always with a smile on.

And Magnus' clients keep knocking on the wrong house.

Read it on Ao3

Alec looks up from the book he was reading right in time to see that the latest client has just left his neighbor's house. The woman is leaving with a smile on her face, but it is no match for the one on the man that she's talking to. He waves at her, and she waves back, laughing, and one would think they are long time friends were it not for the vial of purple liquid she holds in her hand, making it unmistakable what this visit truly was, and what Magnus' line of work is.

Alec's neighbor is a witch, and the woman came to him for a potion. It's not like it's supposed to be a secret; there are signs along the nearest road advertising his line of work, and they even give his address - correctly, Alec has already checked plenty of times.

He waits until the woman has rounded the corner and Magnus has gone back into the house, and then precisely five minutes so the guy has some room to breathe, before getting up and crossing the street to talk to him.

The guy's house is nice - more than nice. Its walls are light yellow, not so bright that it hurts the eyes or even calls that much attention, but upbeat enough that it gives the place a happy kind of air. There are plants all around it and inside, some of which reach out from the windows. One particular tree has a branch that goes all the way outside, where it touches another's, where their branches almost curl around each other. There are a lot of flowers in neatly arranged little pots outside, all in constant bloom, of bright and beautiful colors. Anyone would think Magnus uses magic to keep them always beautiful, but Alec's seen him manually watering and pruning them, smiling and talking to them all the while.

I could use magic to keep them alive, but the plants need care and contact to be truly healthy. Why do you think Peter Plant and Perry the Plant-ypus are always holding hands? They need connection, he had said. Just like all of us, he added, in a much smaller voice.

The house is clearly well-lit, and there is sweet fruit hanging from some of the trees, which have little signs that read "feel free to take some!". Alec supposes it's a lot more fruit than anyone could eat or use on their own. All in all, Magnus' house is beautiful, and has an aura of kindness and happiness that sticks to it.

Alec's house is all black, because that way it isn't as obvious when it gets dirty.

Which is why they are stuck in their current predicament: every time Magnus has a client over - and man, does Magnus get a lot of clients. Alec wonders when he even eats - they go to Alec's house instead, because they "figured the address in the signs was mistaken".

Just like that last client, which Alec had been waiting to leave so he could talk to Magnus about how they could fix this. Again.

It's a little annoying, but Alec would be a lot more upset about it if Magnus weren't so genuinely nice to talk to. Alec has never been friends with any of his neighbors before, and it turns out that he likes it.

Still, Magnus' business can't prosper if the clients keep going to the wrong address, and Alec needs to work without being interrupted every hour or so to point people the right way to his neighbor's house. And assure them that yes, the yellow flowery house is where the witch lives. Yes, he is sure.

So, he knocks on the door, corners of his lips already tugging a bit as he hears the quick approaching footsteps of said witch.

Magnus is the most gorgeous guy Alec's ever seen, but that is fine because Alec already knows this and therefore won't act completely braindead. His hair is always changing style, length, and color, which would have cemented any doubts Alec could have had about whether or not he's the real deal. His real eyes have slitted pupils - which, okay, now that Alec thinks about it, that should have cemented whether or not he's the real deal - but he usually hides them behind a warm, rich brown that sparkles in the light as it assesses Alec, just like it's doing right now. Alec thinks the glamour is kind of a pity, because the golden eyes are also gorgeous. His hair has light blue streaks today, matching his eyeliner and vest, contrasting nicely with the yellow shirt that definitely doesn't hide the muscles of his arms, dear lord. His lips are a deep pink as he talks, just like the details in the shirt Alec can't quite make out; definitely courtesy of some kind of balm. His eyes are worried as they focus on Alec, and he snaps his fingers gently.

"Alexander, are you okay?"

Alec blinks. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"You aren't saying anything."

Step one failed, Alec thinks. "Ah," he says, eloquently, before pulling himself back together, "yes, sorry, I just wanted to ask," his voice sounds that weird kind of forced pleasant that he wears sometimes when he needs it, and the idea of using it with this guy makes him cringe internally, but well, he wants a conversation starter and he's bad at sounding natural, sue him, "are you sure that you aren't hiding the house or something? I mean, it's the third time today."

Magnus brings his eyebrows together, amused. "Well, you can see it, can't you?". He shakes his head slightly, and it would be challenging, but the guy has a way of making you feel like he was laughing with you.

Still, Alec huffs. "Fair point. Still, I thought your- solution would have worked out by now."

Magnus' "solution" to their little problem was to snap his fingers and make some kind of tower appear on the side of the house. The tower has a triangular roof, and it kinda looks like a witch hat, Alec will give him that.

But it's also light pink.

Magnus purses his lips, seeming genuinely lost. "So did I," he agrees, scrunching his nose a little as he thinks. "Maybe some kind of spell where only someone who knows what to look for can find it?" he says hesitantly. He then reaches out with his hands, scanning his own house with his magic thoughtfully. His head tilts slightly in thought as he does it, and flowers or no flowers, no one would doubt that Magnus Bane is a witch at that point. The way that he holds himself, the grace in every tilt of his head, the not at all exaggerated - now that he's actually concentrating and not showing off - movements of his fingers that are still so purposeful and fluid it's impossible not to look. Then his hand drops, and he sighs. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it," he says. "What about your solution?"

Alec's solution was to place a hundred thousand signs near his door that said This is not the witch's house! The witch lives across the street and Yes in the yellow house with all the flowers, and yes THAT one I promise you it's the one you're looking at, and don't knock to confirm just go there. But Alec's other neighbor, Meliorn, just so happens to be a fairy, and takes great pleasure in stealing them whenever they can. Superglue hadn't stopped them, nailing the signs to the door hadn't stopped them, not even painting them directly on the walls had stopped them. And Alec can't use the usual seelie-shooers to keep them away because they are dating Alec's goddamn sister, who will not ask them to stop. Hell, Alec's not even entirely sure she's not the one asking Meliorn to do this in the first place. She might be more of a trickster than they are, at least when it comes to Alec.

Match made in Heaven, Alec scoffs to himself before replying.

"Still no luck with Meliorn," is all he says.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help more with that," Magnus says, and he sounds so genuinely regretful Alec couldn't be upset about it if he tried. Magnus tried to talk to Meliorn about it, but he said they looked so happy with all the stolen signs he couldn't even bring it up. It's a fairy's nature, he had said, and Meliorn seems to have gotten pretty attached to the signs. They have a special place in their house and everything.

Meliorn's house, Alec can't help but note, is exactly what one would expect from a fairy. It's covered in vines and exotic-looking flowers, not that different from the ones Magnus grows, but that unnervingly follow you as you walk past. And, of course, it is filled with their treasure. Just Alec's luck.

Magnus purses his lips again. "I could change your house into something a little more like mine, so people at least won't keep coming to you- okay, I see the face you're making, and I'll have you know I'm offended. My house is beautiful, if I do say so myself," he winks, smile bright.

"Of course it is," Alec says, making a dismissing gesture with his hand, because the idea that it wouldn't be is ridiculous. Magnus softens in a way Alec can't quite understand, his face warmer than it looked even as he grinned, "it's just- not quite my style. Besides, I wouldn't want to kill all the plants. Also, I don't like big changes in the environment," he says, scratching the back of his neck. Magnus is the opposite, always changing something here and there, even if the core theme of the place never changes, "And black is nice. I just didn't think that there would be a witch next door people would mistake me for."

Magnus scoffs. "I still don't get what that's about. Black is the worst color for a witch. Absorbs all kinds of energies, you don't want that when you're using magic. Yellow is a lot better, irradiates pretty nicely and absorbs the good things. Besides, my tower has a witch hat now! And there are plants!" he gestures widely, in an almost offended way. Alec doesn't know how to tell him that no one associates plants with witches, at least not the kind of pretty, bright colored flowers and fruits that he grows.

"I guess people expect witch's plants to be less…" He pauses for a second, looking for the perfect word, "voluptuous".

Magnus scoffs. "Then how would I get my ingredients??"

Alec shrugs. He has no idea. He doesn't know how witches work.

"Besides," Magnus continues, "why do people not expect a witch's house to look approachable? Why would you seek help from someone that doesn't look trustworthy? I work to cure the sick, bring good fortune, keep plants and people healthy, keep away bad energies. It's not like I work with bad energies or take those stupid," he emphasizes the word with a tilt of his head, "requests, like 'Hex my neighbor's grass!'" He says that in a demanding voice, snapping his fingers and grimacing a little as he impersonates that kind of client. Alec knows for a fact that his mom has hired witches to hex their neighbor's grass more than once, and Magnus' imitation is surprisingly similar. The fact that this guy has unknowingly talked shit about Alec's mom only makes Alec like him more.

Once upon a time, he would have felt guilty about that feeling. He doesn't anymore, and it's a nice change.

Magnus looks at him, squinting slightly, "you have hexed your neighbor's grass, haven't you?," he says.

"What? No," Alec grimaces, disgusted, "you are my neighbor."

Magnus gives a little laugh. "Fair point. I suppose I'd have to charge a lot for that one. Starting with even getting a lawn to be hexed. That would need considerably more space. I am not getting rid of my plants, I'll warn you." He says playfully, pointing a finger at Alec. It stops just shy of poking him. Magnus seems to be very careful when it comes to personal space, which Alec appreciates so much he finds that he wouldn't mind if he actually touched him.

Alec smiles, because he can't help it. "I don't have a lawn either, so I don't think that's necessary. No, it's uh, my mom who has hexed the neighbor. And I agree with you, it's stupid."

"Glad we're on the same page," Magnus replies, raising his eyebrows playfully for emphasis.

They fall silent for a while, but it's comfortable, and Alec's smile lingers on his face as he watches Magnus look at his own house in concentration. It's like a puzzle he can't figure out. Alec supposes pop culture has been lying to people about witches more than he ever thought, if this guy's completely clueless expression is any indication. His house has pastel colors.

"I mean, look, logical or not, you could change the front a bit to look more like people expect, right? Make it a darker color or something, put the plants on the back? If people want unapproachable, give them what they want, you know."

Magnus sighs, and he says, in a small voice, "but I want people to visit."

This is exactly the kind of conversation that would make Alec freeze up, not knowing what to respond, usually. But instead, he finds that he actually knows what to do and grabs Magnus' hand almost on instinct. Magnus looks at him with wide eyes, shock and sadness and the kind of guarded hope that means fear, and Alec just looks back at him, gathering words.

But it still seems to be the right thing to do, because Magnus says, "Raphael just moved out. I had never lived outside of the village before, but because he's not a witch, I thought it best to come to a neutral place. But everything is so different, and now that he's gone… The house feels empty." Then he quickly takes his hand from Alec's, and a smile is back in place, bright as ever, but it makes Alec feel a lot less warm. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be putting this on you. I promise I'm not usually such a woe-y old man, you just… Caught me by surprise."

"No, no, I like it," Alec says, because it's true. "And well… I can visit, if you want." Magnus looks at him with doubt in his eyes, so Alec quickly amends, "I've always wanted to know what a witch's work is like."

That's not really true. Alec hasn't always wanted to know what a witch's work is like, more like he's wanted to know what a witch's work is like ever since he's met Magnus. But potato, potatoh.

And if he didn't want to know before, well. He definitely does once Magnus' smile blooms with brightness, his fingers almost twitching as he goes to show him the plants he grows and what they do.

[breaniebree]

Kane tended to use the room as his personal office more often the desk he’d been given in the bullpen, but as far as she knew he was supposed to be working alone today on whatever it was he worked on. Her brow furrowed as she heard the woman’s muffled voice.

“But I love you, Nash! Can’t you see we belong together? How can you think I don’t love you?”

“I don’t think you know what love is, Harmony,” a man’s voice exclaimed. “Love can’t be bottled and it certainly can’t be forced. I love Kat, why can’t you understand that? We will never be together!”

“Nash, please!”

“Come near me again and I’ll tell the Aurors everything, Harmony,” Nash warned. “I’ll tell them about the love potion you gave me, about the other men you’ve seduced and drugged. This is your last chance. Leave Katherine and I alone.”

Tonks pushed open the door to the conference room. Kane was leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the table with files opened around him. One file was open in his lap as he spun a quill around. The back wall was lit up with the images of the handsome Desmond Elliot with is sweeping blond hair and well muscled physique was displayed shirtless across from the beautiful Hattie Taylor.

“Nash! I love you! Please, give me another chance!”

Tonks’ lips curved as she leaned against the doorjamb. “Hidden Passions? Really, Kane?”

He almost tripped attempting to stand as he tapped his wand twice over the wireless and the image disappeared.

“Er, it was just on. I needed some background noise.”

“Sure,” Tonks said, closing the door behind her. “My mum’s a big fan and according to her Desmond Elliot is much to good looking for his own good. Nashville Tucker has been quite the favourite character since he joined the show last year.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kane said, turning back to his file. “As I said, it was just background noise.”

“Uh-huh,” Tonks said, moving to take a seat at the table with her crisps. “I needed to stretch my legs and I was hungry.”

[...]

Kane gestured to the files on her right. “Found a Delta Brambilla who found the body of a man poisoned with Lover’s Kiss.”

“Herman Frost?”

“No,” Kane said. “I think this was the first man she perfected the poison on before she killed her husband.”

Tonks nodded, intrigued. “She practiced.”

“She did,” Kane continued. “And here, in ’89, a witness named Donna Bram claims a man assaulted her who was later arrested for sexual assault.”

“She’s been using false names for years,” Tonks said, her eyes widening.

“The Black Widow is said to have lost five husbands and rumours are that she was behind their unfortunate demise, but if Belladonna Brambilla has been using false names for the last sixteen years, she’s the real Black Widow,” Kane said. “If we can connect all of these deaths to her, she’s responsible for killing at least thirteen men and eight of them were supposedly married to her.”

Tonks flipped through another file, searching for the name and tapped her finger on the witness list. “Delta Billa, Bella Frost, Donna Carthaginian, Ella Bram, Belle Fannucci… she’s been careful, but not as crafty as she thinks.”

Kane nodded. “It’s a good lead. I think she might be our weak link.”

“Lover’s Kiss is a pretty infamous poison though, K. I mean, even Marestella DiMaggio used it on Noah Dickens two years ago.”

“Yeah, but that was only because his contract was up and they didn’t want to recast Dickens’ character which is why they brought him back last month as a ghost in the — I mean, shit.”

Tonks’ grin widened. “I knew it! You were listening!”

“Okay,” Kane said, clearing his throat. “So I like Hidden Passions, sue me. And for the record, DiMaggio poisoned herself when she used Lover’s Kiss before she didn’t get it off her lips in time and the poison seeped into her mouth, backfiring on her killing Noah. The healers saved her in time, but Noah died and woke in limbo before the angel of his mother told him he was destined to return as a ghost.”

“But then that necromancer found him and helped him return to his body,” Tonks said. “My mum’s a big fan and according to Dad has been crushing on Sam Collins since he first started playing Noah ten years ago.”

“Anyway,” Kane continued. “I’m merely stating that the poison is real and yes, I think Brambilla has been brewing it herself and using it on her past husbands.”

Tonks nodded, flipping through the files again before reaching for her crisps. “I think you’re right. Now come on, turn the program back on. I won’t tell.”

Kane gave her a sheepish look before he tapped his wand at the wireless and said, ‘Harmony.’ A second tap projected the program up on the wall.

“Oooh, who’s that?” Tonks asked, pointing to the beautiful blonde bombshell who stepped down the grand staircase in a long black shimmering dress drenched in jewels.

“She’s new to the cast,” Kane said. “Her name is Hollis Sterling and she plays Maybel Macintosh the secret love child of Sloan and Noelle. She grew up believing she was the daughter of the wealthy business tycoon Mac Macintosh, but just found out she was adopted by Mac and Marion when she was a baby. Noelle thought her daughter died at birth. It’s a whole big thing.”

Tonks held out the crisps to him as an advertisement interrupted the program to tell them about the new sales the Apothecary. “Tell me more.”

“Lupin, we have work to do and I hardly know everything about the show. Ask your mum.”

“Liar,” Tonks said. “I already know you’re a die-hard fan.”

Kane dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m not. I just… listen sometimes for background noise.”

“Pants on fire,” Tonks said. “Tell me about Maybel.”

Kane sighed and reached for the crisps. “Fine. So listen, today is her eighteenth birthday party and Mac’s throwing the party of the century. He even hired a band to play, but last night she was snooping for her birthday present and accidentally came across her birth file. She confronted Mac and Marion and they admitted she was adopted, but they don’t know who her birth parents are. Noelle’s never given up on. She’s always believed her daughter was still alive despite everyone telling her she’d died, but Noelle has no idea that Maybel is her daughter.”

Tonks nodded as the program returned and she took in the beautiful young woman who filled the wall. She had a feeling she was going to enjoy being stuck on desk duty for the next little bit. There was no way she was letting Kane watch Hidden Passions without her from now on.

When me and @seriouslysam8 invent a soap opera show for shits and giggles...

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 11: Prepare For Trouble And Make It Double

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day. Which was actually what's happening. So there we were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses. Percy and I walked side by side with our hand still connected. Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once. I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better. "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything." "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed? I was not going to leave Y/N." "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine." "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine." "Shut up, goat boy," I said. Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans." We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry. After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave." "We're a team, right?" She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. Do you want to see?

Yeah that would be nice.

It was as if it was morning, I could see everything clearly. I wandered my head to make sure I could see everything. This is cool. "You okay?" Percy asked. "Yeah," Not really a fan of the current silence I turned to Annabeth. "You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked her. "No... only short field trips. My dad—" "The history professor." "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said. "You think so?" "Yeah maybe you can teach me some tricks. "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me." Percy smiled. I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled. "You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Something funny back on the but..." Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured. "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Seeing a tree coming up I tried to pull Percy to avoid it but Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on his head. I suppressed my laugh by covering my mouth which made Percy glare at me. After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This kid needed a double cheeseburger. >We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English. To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. "What the heck does that say?" I asked. "I don't know," Annabeth said. She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken. I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. "Hey..." Grover warned. "The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open." "Snack bar," I said wistfully. "Snack bar," Percy agreed. "Snack bar," Annabeth joined. "Are you three crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird." We ignored him. The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps. "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!" We stopped at the warehouse door. "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters." I turned to look at my knife. It had a light glow emitting from it. Probably because it was sheathed. "I think there's monsters." I was now reluctant and sided with Grover. "Grover's nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?" "Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian." "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.. "Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."

"Percy, I don't think---"

"It'll be fine." Percy took my hand and went in. Be careful and don't look. Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady. >Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?" "They're... um..." Annabeth started to say. "We're orphans," I said. "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!" "We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?" "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area. We thanked her and went inside. Annabeth muttered to Percy, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" "Your head is full of kelp." The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. I was anxious so I tighten my grip on Percy.  It's stupid for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because we were hungry. For a child of Athena, Annabeth sure isn't making wise decisions. I mean yeah I agree, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away.  But Grover's nervous whimpers, and the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, to add the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us. Made me more cautious. Sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. "Please, sit down," Aunty Em said "Awesome," Percy said. "Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am." Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans." "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said. Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, I had to turn to Annabeth to check if there was something wrong with her.. Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child."  I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. "Percy, I want to leave..." I whispered. "Just a few bites Y/N. Don't worry." He gave me a reassuring pat. Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries. I wasn't gulfing down my food like Percy was.  Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. Annabeth slurped her shake. "What's that hissing noise?" he asked. I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover." "I take vitamins. For my ears." "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax." I don't like it here. I'm scared. Be wary of all things. Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. "So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested. "Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know." "A lot of business on this road?" "Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get. My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified."Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face." "You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked. "Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?" "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price." Annabeth gave me a look of worry. I knew she realized something. "Percy?" I shook him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything. "Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go." "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!" "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?" "A pose?" Annabeth asked warily. "A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children." Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—" "Sure we can," Percy said. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?" "Percy, I don't want to..."  "It's just a photo guys." "Indeed it is just a photo Y/N," the woman purred. "No harm." I could tell Annabeth didn't like it as well, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues. Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side." "Not much light for a photo," I remarked. But joke's on her I could see quite clearly. Don't look. "Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?" "Where's your camera?" Grover asked. Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?" Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand." "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands. "Percy—" Annabeth said. "I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...." "Percy, something's wrong," I insisted. "Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?" "That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped. DON'T LOOK. Annabeth turned to my direction, "Look away from her!" she then shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and and I pulled Percy with me. We were on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet. I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. "Percy, we have to move!" I shook him. But he was too dazed to move. Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails. Percy was about to look higher then her hands and I instinctively covered his eyes. "Don't look!" More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from... from about where Aunty Em's head would be. "Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers. "Percy we have to move please!" "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up." "Percy please!" Percy pushed my hand away and looked to one side. I turned to look as well and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents. Aunty Em. Aunty "M." How did Medusa die in the myth? But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face. "The Gray-Eyed One did this to me," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this." "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Y/N carry Percy!" "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer. We won't even hurt, Y/N." I swung Percy's arm around my shoulder. But he was too heavy.  "No," he muttered trying to make his legs move... "Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain." "Y/N!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!" I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone. "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!" I tackled Percy to the other side. Thwack! Then Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!" "That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back. Pulling along an out of a dazed Percy we scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass. Ker-whack! "Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting. Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Y/N! Percy!" Percy jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!" Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off." "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here." "Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance." "What? I can't—" "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster. Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—" "Would you speak English?" "I am!" She tossed him the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly." "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!" "Roooaaarrr!" "Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch. "Hurry," Annabeth told him. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash." Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide showed. He turned to me and gave the glass then offered a hand. "Percy you can't be seriously bring her along!?" "I'll go with him." Taking his hand, we followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I raised the glass so I could guide us. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!" Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!" We advanced on her. I had let go of Percy's hand to bring out my knife. So if she charged, I could help Percy. But she let us approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse. "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't." I could tell he hesitated. From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!" Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at him with her talons. I ran and raised my knife to block her talons, Percy then swung his sword, then we heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces. "Oh, yuck," Percy said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck." Annabeth came up next to us, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move." >Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice. "Are you okay?" Percy asked me, his voice trembling. "Yeah," I decided. "Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?" "Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you." Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head. "The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man." He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun." He snatched his shoes out of the air. "I didn't know Grover got Luke's shoes."  Percy recapped his sword. "I can't fly." He shrugged.  Together, the four of us stumbled back to the warehouse We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak. Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?" Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him." "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa." Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'" "Forget it," I said. "You're impossible." "You're insufferable." "You're—" "You're both loud and stupid." I growled. "Yeah!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?" I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice. What had Medusa said? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Percy and I shared a look. We got up. "I'll be back." "Percy, Y/N," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—" We searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins.  "Found one." Percy called. We went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip: The Gods >Mount Olympus 600th Floor, >Empire State Building New York, NY With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON <3 Y/N L/N "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent." I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! "I am impertinent," Percy said. I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that we had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Great, well Fred and George," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

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UwU bb I'm just licherali rippin off now srry -kookie-doughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (7/ 11)

word count: 9k

AO3

part 1   / part 2 / part 3  / part 4  / part 5 / part 6 / part 8

Content warning: being overwhelmed by being in a crowd, (implied character death (kind of?))

Geralt stared at him, his mind simultaneously freezing and racing. He didn’t even realise how long he must have just stood there unmoving, until Dandy shifted uncomfortably.

Geralt shook his head to snap out of his stupor.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rougher than intended. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to scare you before. I- “ His fingers twitched, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. “I’m sure you want to leave this place.”

A look of relief flittered over Dandy’s face and he nodded curtly. “Yeah, that would be for the best.”

He shuffled again, the hand that wasn’t holding the cane fiddling with the hem of his doublet. “I… I know you just saved me now, but could you…”

He trailed off, pressing his lips into a thin line. His discomfort was so blatantly obvious that Geralt instinctively took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him out of habit, even though he now knew how nonsensical that gesture was. It was all he could do to show people that he wasn’t a threat to them. It wouldn’t work on Dandy.

“Of course,” Geralt rasped out. “I won’t force my presence on you. I understand that you’re uncomfortable with me after I just –“

He was interrupted by a sharp huff coming from Dandy. “What? No, that’s not – I asked you to stay, didn’t I?”

“I…yes?”

Dandy’s throat visibly bobbed as he swallowed. “Well, you see, the thing is… gods, I can’t believe how stupid I was that I didn’t notice that something was wrong earlier, but I usually don’t really go places alone if I don’t know my way around.” His hand tightened around his cane and his tone became slightly cynical, when he added, “Fillip – if that even was his real name – told me where he was going to take me, but somehow I doubt that’s actually where we are now.”

“Oh.” Geralt blinked, his brows drawing together like storm clouds. Of course. That must have been why Fillip had taken that long and undoubtedly complicated route to get here instead of taking the direct way – so that Dandy wouldn’t be able to just flee and find his way back. “Do you want me to take you home?” Dandy flinched and Geralt cursed himself. “I mean your home.”

An abyss opened up in Geralt’s chest that widened with every second that Dandy hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said softly. “I would go back to the tavern and tell one of your friends to come get you, but I don’t want you to be alone out here. Just in case –“

“Yeah, no, I really don’t want that either.” Dandy gave a strained laugh.

But he didn’t say he wanted to come with Geralt. Not that Geralt could blame him. He took a shaky breath.

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust me. Especially after what just happened.” Geralt clenched his fists to keep them from trembling with fury and left-over terror again. “But I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. I would rather die than let any harm come to you.”

Dandy’s lips twitched weakly. “That’s quite the declaration for a stranger.”

A stranger. That was all Geralt was, all he was going to be, after the sort of first meeting they had. No one in their right mind would want him to stick around after something like that. It was a wonder Dandy hadn’t already scrambled back to get away from him.

Geralt forced all restrained hurt out of his voice, when he replied, “I had a friend who loved dramatic speeches. He always told me to speak more.”

Dandy let out a surprised laugh. “He sounds like a smart man. You do have a lovely voice. It would be a shame not to use it.”

Geralt’s throat went dry. “He was. A smart man. And the biggest idiot I knew.”

“Oh.” The tension that had slowly ebbed away from Dandy, returned in full force. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Well, I guess he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to let himself get lured away by some charming man, huh?”

It was clear that Dandy was aiming for a joke, but judging from the strain in his voice, he was well aware that he missed by a mile.

Geralt softened. “Yes, actually, he would. You wouldn’t believe how often he got in trouble because of a pretty face – sometimes his own, sometimes other people’s.” His voice took on a more serious note. “But not a single time that he was attacked for it, was his fault. Just as what happened today wasn’t yours. The men who attacked you are to blame and no one else. You’re not stupid for trusting people and if anyone tells you that it’s your own fault if someone tries to take advantage of you, you tell them that they are dead wrong.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated, but then he gave Geralt a crooked smile. “I really have no idea what those men were talking about when they called you a monster. If you ask me, you sound more like a hero. Act like one too.”

Geralt’s heart sped up at those all too familiar words. After years and years of being spat at, being insulted and chased away, hearing words so similar to those Jaskier had always told him, was like rubbing a soothing balm on a wound.

“I’m no hero. Just tried to do the right thing.” He shifted on his feet. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to do the right thing again and bring you home safely. Judging from your clothes, you must be living in the richer part of town?”

Dandy let out a startled laugh. “No. Absolutely not. But I’ll tell Clarisse that you said the costumes she makes look expensive. But I probably should stop wearing them after rehearsals, huh?”

Geralt’s brows shot up. “So you weren’t lying? You really are an actor?”

Dandy’s grin got wider. “I would be offended that you haven’t heard of our troupe, but since you so gallantly saved me, I shall forgive you for now.” He hesitated, his plastered on confidence wavering a little. “But I would appreciate if you could bring me back to the tavern? I just…I’d really like to be with my friends again.”

Geralt led him back without further delay. He didn’t take Dandy’s arm as Fillip had done before, but he made sure to made his footfalls louder and to keep talking so that Dandy would now always know where he was and how to follow him, while his cane moved before him, sometimes catching on irregular cobblestones or the walls of houses.

As they walked, Dandy visibly relaxed, even reciting his big monologue of the play they were going to perform the next day, when Geralt asked about it, more to distract Dandy from any dark thoughts than anything else. He tried his best to follow Dandy as he told him about what it was like being an actor, but most of it was nothing Geralt could find a meaningful reply to.

Dandy didn’t appear bothered by that. In fact, by the time they were close enough that even Dandy could hear the noise coming from the tavern, he looked almost as happy as he had back with his friends.

Despite the terror that had brought them here, Geralt wished he could stay in that moment forever; just the two of them walking together, talking and him being allowed to watch Dandy brighten when Geralt managed to say something the actor deemed funny.

He wished he could stay with him, wished that when they entered the tavern and his friends hugged Dandy close, Geralt could be one of them. But as the red-haired woman from before took Dandy in her arms, the actor began trembling again, a piercing reminder of what had happened. He had been apprehensive of asking Geralt to walk him back, there was no doubt in Geralt’s mind that now that he was surrounded by his friends again, Dandy would want Geralt as far gone as possible.

So Geralt explained what had happened to the redhead, Nadine, as quickly as he could and left Dandy in his friends’ care, without forcing him to say another word to him. Part of it was the selfless need to see Dandy throw off that discomfort from before. The bigger, selfish part of Geralt knew he would break, if he had to listen to Dandy say goodbye to him, final and cutting like a knife.

Still, Geralt didn’t go back to Roach again as he had planned, neither did he search for a cheap inn. He lingered in the shadows near the tavern, making sure no more danger would come near Dandy.

Shortly after Geralt had left the tavern, Dandy and his friends followed, going back to their home, where no harm could to him.

It should have calmed Geralt to know that Dandy was in caring hands and yet he couldn’t banish the worry and the memory of that short terrifying moment when he had thought he might be too late again.

This night, Geralt didn’t get a wink of sleep, patrolling the streets and thinking of how, no matter how briefly, Dandy had seemed to be happy to be in his presence. It was a memory Geralt would treasure when he was out on the Path again, lonely, but comforted by the knowledge that Dandy wasn’t just as alone.

--

Geralt told himself he would stay away, that it would be better for Dandy that way. He had everything he could want. There was no need for a witcher to come in and mess his life up.

And yet, the next evening, Geralt found himself staring at one of the numerous posters he found in the city, impossible to miss, now that he was looking for them. Colourful letters and a quickly drawn picture advertised a play. Right front and centre of the rough drawing was a man in a hat, leaning on a cane and giving a roguish smile, teasing Geralt and tempting him to throw caution and reason in the wind and come see him again.

He should resist. No good would come off going to see Dandy again, but Geralt’s feet carried him to the spacious marketplace, as written on the poster, even while his mind told him that he would find nothing but disappointment and hurt if he saw Dandy again.

In his hand, he clutched the hat Dandy had lost in that alley, when he had been hit. Geralt had gone back there, just to see if his attackers were around, and his heart had stuttered when he’d seen the hat lying there on the ground, dirtied and discarded. Without thinking, he had bent down to take it. If nothing else, he should return it to the players. It didn’t even need to be to Dandy directly. He could just go to the woman sitting behind a small desk at the entrance of the marketplace, hand it to her and disappear again.

But he needed to see. He needed to know for sure that Dandy was feeling better. That was the only reason why he went to the woman selling tickets for the play and pulled out one of the precious few coins in his possession.

His stomach nearly growled at the thought alone of how little coin he had left. Watching a play wasn’t an expense he could afford, not if he wanted to be able to eat anything warm and nutritious.

His fist closed around the silver coin and with determined steps, he walked towards the woman.

“One ticket, please.”

The woman looked up at him with a welcoming smile. A smile, that froze on her face when she took him in. Her eyes widened and he could hear her sharp intake of breath.

His jaw clenched. Out of instinct, he hunched his shoulders and tried his best to relax his face, but he was painfully aware of the fact that he couldn’t hide who and what he was. Decades without Jaskier’s songs to soften the public’s opinion hadn’t done the way he was treated and perceived much good.

Pointedly casually, Geralt held out the coin.

He told himself that he didn’t panic when the woman shook her head.

“We won’t take your coin.”

His heart sank. He should go. He should just give her the hat, excuse himself and go. The last thing he needed was to cause a scene.

“It’s as good a coin as anyone else’s.”

He cursed himself even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had known that there was a very real chance that he wouldn’t get to see Dandy again, but being told that he should go when he was so close, was like a punch in the gut.

He could feel more than he saw the people behind him in the line growing impatient, some even starting to whisper to each other in irritation. It wasn’t hard to guess whose side they would be on if Geralt kept insisting to be allowed to pass.

The last thing Dandy needed was Geralt chasing away other audience members with his presence.

An icy chill ran down his spine. Dandy. What if he had asked the rest of his friends to keep him away because he didn’t want Geralt anywhere near him? Yesterday, Geralt had been able to make himself believe that Dandy looking happy around him had been real. Now, he was forced to confront the truth: That the actor had just been relieved that nothing worse had happened and if he had smiled at what Geralt had said, that had likely just happened out of a sense of obligation or fear of what would happen if he pissed Geralt off.

Geralt wouldn’t blame Dandy if he had wanted to make sure that Geralt stayed away from him.

A taken aback “Oh” from the woman in front of him interrupted his grim thoughts. “That’s not what I meant. Of course your coin is just as good. I meant that you don’t have to pay to watch our play.”

Geralt’s brows shot up. He couldn’t have heard this right. “What do you mean?”

The woman tilted her head to the side and eyed him critically, before nodding to herself and leaning closer.

“You’re the one who helped our Dandy yesterday, aren’t you? Nadine told me what happened and said if a man with white hair and…well, she pretty much described you and said if you came by, I shouldn’t make you pay.”

“He’s alright then?” The idea of a witcher being allowed entrance anywhere without pay felt surreal, but the only thing Geralt’s mind latched on was that brief mention of the person he wanted more than anything to be close to again. “Dandy?”

“He’s fine. Thanks to you.” The woman’s lips twitched and she gave Geralt a conspiratorial look, as if he’d have any idea what she wanted to tell him with that. “A bit nervous, though. More so than the usual nerves before a performance. He’s been fidgety all day.”

Geralt’s face fell. “He’s still afraid? Did anyone bother him again?” Is it me he’s afraid of?

The woman waved her hand through the air dismissively. “Oh no. He keeps telling everyone who’s willing to listen, how he has a mysterious protector now.” She winked at Geralt. “But you can ask him about it after the play yourself. Now, not to be rude, but you’re kind of holding up the line.”

Geralt startled. He had almost forgotten about the people waiting impatiently behind him. With one last grateful nod to the woman, he went past her and joined the crowd that was already gathered on the marketplace.

Geralt’s nerves spiked up and his breath started to come short. There were too many people around him. He pushed his way to the back of the crowd, but even there, he was surrounded by chattering, pushing and the smell of sweat that clung to the mass of bodies.

Geralt had avoided crowds for so long that he had almost forgotten how much he hated it. The only thing that had always soothed his mind and had made being in a crowd worth it, had been Jaskier’s hand in his, grounding him, and the smile he would always give him for indulging Jaskier like that.

Only now, he didn’t have Jaskier with him.

Geralt was left to grow more and more anxious, as he tried to focus all of his senses on finding Dandy, but he couldn’t catch so much as a glimpse of him, even as he stared at the colourful wagon that had been converted into a place where actors could hide until they had to make their entrance onto the stage.

Finally, the play began. Geralt perked up, only to sag in disappointment, when it wasn’t Dandy presenting the prologue, but the red-haired woman from the day before. She was good, as were the other actors that soon joined her, but Geralt paid only half-attention to them or the plot, too distracted by trying to spy Dandy somewhere.

He shouldn’t have worried about missing him. As soon as the doors to the wagon opened and Dandy pushed the curtain separating it from the stage to the side with a dramatic flourish, he drew all eyes onto himself.

Geralt couldn’t help but suck in the air sharply, when Dandy strode over the stage, all confidence and cockiness. He navigated the stage perfectly, his cane almost melting into his motions with how self-assured he presented himself. It was clear that he knew his place as well as the other actor’s places like the back of his hand. Nothing was left of the scared man from yesterday, who had been lost and reliant on others to guide him through the labyrinth that was the city. No, the person who was on stage now, was someone completely different. This was who Dandy was meant to be. He commanded the stage, wrapped the audience around his little finger as if it was nothing.

Some of his expressions still looked a little unnatural and he didn’t always look at where the other actor’s eyes were perfectly, but somehow Dandy managed to turn that into a look of arrogance or shy avoidance. It was clear how much he had practiced to perfect this performance and how much he loved playing the cocky pirate captain.

While Jaskier had been able to get any crowd to clap and stomp in rhythm with his songs, Dandy had the gift of making a hush fall over the crowd. Not a single person in the audience dared to risk missing even a second of his performance by talking. Geralt fared no better. He couldn’t have looked away if he had wanted to. He was mesmerised.

And how could he not be? Up there on the stage, Dandy was beautiful, confident and so breathtakingly and unapologetically happy.

A warm and fuzzy feeling spread through Geralt’s chest as he watched, though he winced and felt a spike of guilt shoot up, when he noticed that Dandy did his best to take it easy on his back when he danced through the fight-choreographies or had to bend down.

But even so, there was no doubt that Dandy gave it his all. Even with the hat missing from his costume, he melted into the role of the pirate. So much so that even Geralt found himself invested in the play, and not only for the need to see what exactly it was that Dandy did that he loved so much.

And he could see why he did. The story was enrapturing. A pirate playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, with constantly changing roles and stakes. He evaded the knight searching for him time and time again, more often than not with a flirty quip on his lips and a wink for the knight before the pirate escaped just in time.

Dandy played the pirate pouring all his heart into it. And with it, he played the audience as easily as a child’s recorder.

When Dandy acted ruthless and lifted his voice to a furious shout, gasps went through the audience. When Dandy spoke softly to the knight in a rare moment of vulnerability, Geralt noticed more than one pair of lovers search for their partner’s hand or share a look. When Dandy tilted the knights chin up with the sword he held in the hand that wasn’t occupied with his holding his cane, Geralt felt an unexpected tingling down the back of his neck and he had to swallow to get himself to stop imagining himself in the knight’s place.

But then the scene shifted and Geralt felt as if a rug was pulled out from under him. The pirate got captured by the knight and thrown into a prison. The set design was only minimalistic and had Geralt been less invested, he might have scoffed at how nothing like an actual prison the stage looked, not without the cagey walls that made you think you were suffocating or the lack of light that made it impossible to tell what time of day it was.

But none of that mattered. Because there Dandy was, cowering on the stage all alone, shackled and trembling all over. In that moment, he looked so damn similar to how he had been yesterday, that it took all of Geralt’s will power to remind himself that Dandy was just acting, that his pain-streaked face was nothing but the mask of the character he played. And yet, Geralt’s heart broke for him and he wanted nothing more than to take Dandy into his arms and hold him close until his tears dried and his gasping breath turned into laughter.

Then the knight appeared on the other side of the prop door, speaking to the pirate through it in a stern and rough voice, but the look on Dandy’s face as the pirate heard the voice and realised he wasn’t alone, made it seem as if the voice was the most beautiful and most comforting thing he had ever heard.

The knight lifted a prop torch. It didn’t shine a real light, but Dandy turned towards it nonetheless, creating the illusion of being gifted with unexpected light in a hopelessly dark place.

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the look of utter bliss and hope on Dandy’s face.

Was this how Yarrow had looked when Geralt had finally given up on remaining silent? Had he looked just as hopeless and broken as Dandy had before, when Geralt had fallen silent again?

And then Dandy spoke up again and Geralt found it impossible to breathe. He knew that monologue. It was the same one Dandy had presented in the most dramatic fashion to Geralt the day before.

It was different today. This was no grandiose speech. It was a desperate plea of a broken man. Dandy knew exactly how to use his voice to pierce the hearts of the audience. People sobbed and held their loved ones’ closer as Dandy spoke now. But Geralt was certain that none of them felt as much in that moment as he did. Not a single person could understand the turmoil of emotion welling up in him at Dandy’s words.

He hadn’t understood yesterday, but now, seeing Dandy in that make-believe cell, it shifted everything, made Geralt feel like he was right next to him, on the other side of a wall, too far away to touch, too stubborn to listen to his pleas.

Because that’s what it was. While yesterday Dandy had made it seem as if his words were playful and tempting, there was now no doubt that he was begging. Begging for the knight to stay with him, to leave his life of glory and righteousness behind and join him on the sea, far away from anyone who put them in shackles or told them that they had to be enemies. He begged for the knight to see him as more than the unwanted criminal that the law painted him as. There was a broken smile on his face, as he said that he knew well enough that there were no dragons to fight out on the sea, but there were leviathans and all kinds of other sea monsters that he needed help fighting. He could use a man who knew how to use his sword. More than that, he could use a friend.

And the knight…the knight remained silent. Geralt felt himself leaning closer to the stage, tense as if readying himself for a fight and terrified of what the answer might be.

Don’t do it! he almost screamed at the actor playing the knight. You will shatter him if you say it!

But he knew what the answer would be, had known it long before the pirate had ever started begging. He had known it, ever since he realised just how close this scene was to the moment he still regretted decades later.

“We’re not friends.”

The knight left and took the light with him, leaving the pirate alone in his cell, awaiting the law’s judgement that he knew wouldn’t let him out of that cell alive. The pirate’s last words, before the knight watched him climb the gallows was, “We could have been friends. In a different life.”

--

Geralt didn’t hear the roaring applause. He didn’t see the actors all coming together onstage to take their bows. It felt as if his head had been stuffed with cotton, muffling the world around him.

All he could think of were those last lines. In a different life.

Did Dandy know? Did he somehow understand who he was and was trying to get a message to Geralt? It wasn’t likely, but the possibility made his heart speed up and sent a tingle of anticipation down his back.

Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Geralt didn’t even notice that he was among the last few who lingered awkwardly while the rest of the audience was already making their way home, until that laughter he had heard the day before reached his ears again. Somewhere backstage, Dandy was joking with his friends again.

Geralt’s throat went dry. He didn’t know what to do. That happened frustratingly often lately. He knew what he wanted to do, what every fibre of his being screamed at him to do. But there was no guarantee Dandy even wanted to meet him again. The chance of him truly knowing who he was to Geralt was too small to sway Geralt’s mind. Who was to say Dandy would want him here if he knew, anyway? Because if Dandy knew, then what exactly would he remember? Dying in Geralt’s arms. Dying alone and sick and waiting for a man who would never come.

And if he didn’t remember? If the play had been pure coincidence? Then Dandy would only know him as a brute who lurked in dark alleys, a man who reminded him of the violence of the day before, and who had shown that he wasn’t above hurting people. He had made Dandy fear for his life while he had had no idea if Geralt was friend or foe. None of that made Geralt appear in any way trustworthy.

Whether Dandy remembered anything of his past lives or not, he had every reason to despise him.

But Geralt actually had a reason to talk to him. If not to spent more time with him, then at least to return the hat to him. It was a weak excuse and he knew it, but the woman at the entrance had implied that he should go see Dandy and she wouldn’t have said that if she believed it could harm Dandy in any way, would she?

Though his heart was pounding against his ribs in time with his mind telling him repeatedly that this was a bad idea, Geralt walked towards the stage, where Nadine was just putting away some props.

Before Geralt could speak up, she lifted her head. A brow rose, not in surprise, but almost looking pleased.

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” she said, not bothering to interrupt her work while she spoke. “I take it you’re looking for Dandy?”

“Unless he doesn’t wish to meet me.” Geralt rubbed his thumb over the nail of his index finger, as big a show of nervousness as he allowed himself. “I don’t want to bother him.”

Nadine faltered and turned to face Geralt fully. Geralt felt oddly vulnerable under her scrutiny. But whatever she was seeing must have satisfied her, for she gave him a small nod of approval.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be. He’s not helping clean up the stage anyway and as long as he’s busy talking - or doing whatever else takes both your fancy  - with you, at least he won’t be able to bother the rest of us.” Despite her harsh sounding words, her tone was warm and fond. It did something strange to Geralt’s chest to know that Dandy had found himself with friends whom he was comfortable enough with to let them tease him. “He’s behind the stage, you can’t miss him.”

Geralt nodded his thanks, but before he could make his way to Dandy, Nadine called after him again, “Don’t touch anything. The props are fragile.” When she caught Geralt’s eye, she added quieter but in a practiced tone of authority and intimidation, “I mean it. Don’t break anything.”

They both knew she wasn’t talking about props. Geralt returned her serious look and inclined his head. This time, when he continued on his way, he wasn’t stopped.

Nadine was right. It was impossible to miss Dandy. He was lounging comfortably on a box while another actor with shoulder-length dark hair tried to shoo him off so they could stow away his props.

The other actor looked up when Geralt came closer, their eyes going wide and darting between Geralt and Dandy.

“Oh,” they said awkwardly. “I, uh, I guess I can put my stuff away later. I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, they hurried away. Dandy let out a cheerful laugh and swung his legs back and forth, making dull thuds whenever his feel hit the box.

He didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t alone.

“Dandy?”

Dandy startled and his one hand tightened around his cane. “Uh, who are you?”

Geralt clenched his jaw. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I forgot – I’m Geralt.”

Dandy stared blankly ahead, the fingers of his free hand drumming a nervous pattern on the box.

“Ah, pleasure to meet you.” A pause. Dandy tilted his head. “Judging from how Mika left, you’re either very intimidating or someone I should probably know.”

Geralt coughed uncomfortably. “To be honest, I’m not sure which one it is either.”

Dandy let out a quiet laugh and leaned back. “So mysterious. You want me to guess? Because I’m warning you, I’m not very good at guessing games.”

“We met yesterday. After…I’m the one who brought you back to the tavern.”

The change in Dandy was instantaneous. As quick as lightning, he jumped up, his teasing and the hint of weariness gone and replaced with a buzzing excitement.

“It’s you! I can’t believe you’re here!” The smile on his face wasn’t as big as Jaskier’s would have been, but the happiness in his voice was brighter than anything Geralt had ever heard before. “Really, I should have guessed it was you. No one else can move that silently.” He huffed. “You’ll have to work on that, if you don’t want me to startle every time you appear.”

Something warm tingled to life in Geralt. Every time. It couldn’t just be Geralt’s foolishly hopeful heart that made those words sound as if Dandy wanted him to come see him again after this, could it?

“Or when you disappear for that matter.” Dandy’s tone shifted into gentle reprimand and he wagged a finger vaguely in Geralt’s direction. “You were gone so quickly yesterday and without saying goodbye too.”

“I’m sorry.” Those words weren’t enough. They didn’t say that Geralt had wanted nothing more than to stay with Dandy, to get to know him, to have Dandy want him there with him. But it was all that his tied tongue allowed him to get out.

Dandy snorted. “You should be.” Amusement snuck into his voice. “I’ll have you know that it was really embarrassing when I stared talking to you, thanking you profusely for saving me, only to have Nadine tell me that you had left an eternity ago. I fear my dignity shall never recover!”

“Not if you keep being that dramatic,” Geralt shot back, before he could stop himself.

He froze, his eyes going wide as he held his breath, awaiting Dandy’s reaction. His slip up that Jaskier would have recognised without difficulty as teasing, must sound like a deadpan insult to anyone else – to Dandy.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said so quickly he nearly stumbled over the word. “I didn’t mean to-“

He was interrupted by a barking laugh coming from Dandy. “Not you too! First my own friends and colleagues tell me I’m too dramatic – can you believe it? Actors telling me I’m too dramatic! – and now even you, Geralt, my hero, are turning against me?”

Geralt shifted his weight, his instinct telling him to deny being a hero, but the way Dandy had said his name made him swallow his words of protest. Instead, he cleared his throat and aimed for something softer with his next words.

“I could make it up to you?”

Dandy’s smile turned into a grin. “Oh? How are you planning to do that? One daring rescue wasn’t enough for you?” His tone became sincere. “Because trust me, I couldn’t ask anything more of you. I owe you my life.”

“No. Trust me, you really don’t.” Geralt forced down the bitterness lacing his words. “No more heroics. But-“ he faltered, looking at the hat in his hand. Standing before Dandy now, made this gesture seem so much more insignificant. “I found your hat. I wanted to return it to you.”

Dandy let out a delighted little noise. “Wait, really?”

“It’s…yeah. I got your hat.”

Geralt waited until Dandy held out his hand to place it in it. Immediately, Dandy went to put it on his head. Geralt snatched his elbow, stopping him. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks when Dandy made a questioning noise.

“Sorry, it’s just. It’s dirty. And the feather is broken. I tried to clean it best I could, but I don’t think you’d want to put it on like that.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated, but then he tugged his arm free and proceeded to put the hat on.

“I couldn’t possibly scorn such a gift,” he said teasingly, but something else was woven into his voice. Something more. “Now, how do I look?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he could speak. The word he croaked was more a strangled noise than the compliment he had intended to give, but it made Dandy’s lips twitch nonetheless.

“First you give me my hat back and now you give me such a lovely and eloquent compliment? Your generosity knows no bounds.” Coming from anyone else, those words would have sounded like a mockery and would have stung Geralt to the core. But from Dandy, they sounded so much like familiar teasing, as if they had known each other forever, that Geralt relaxed. “I wonder…may I be greedy and ask for one more thing?”

Anything.

“Depends,” Geralt said instead, though he was sure Dandy could hear his real answer in the miniscule tremble of his voice. “What are you asking for?”

Dandy’s smile grew wider. “The thing all artists are asking for. A review.”

“Let me guess, in three words or less?”

The words slipped past Geralt’s lips without thinking, but now that they hung between them, his heart sped up and his eyes zeroed in on Dandy, doing their best to see even the most miniscule shift in his expression that showed that he recognised those words, that they meant something to him.

All Dandy did was lift his brows and twirl his cane a little. Geralt told himself he wasn’t disappointed.

“I wouldn’t complain about more words. But three words does sound like something out of a story, so I’ll take it.”

The corner of Geralt’s lips tugged upwards. “They don’t exist.”

For a moment, Dandy was quiet, then he let out an indignant and altogether dramatic groan. “Really? That’s your review? That’s not – how is that even a review?”

Geralt couldn’t stop the soft fondness from welling up in his chest, as he listened to Dandy’s tirade. “I mean, is that a good thing? Do you think it’s terrible? You truly gave me the one review that is just utterly nondescript.”

Geralt hummed with a smile on his lips that he was sure Dandy could hear. “Do you think inaccuracy is a bad thing?”

Dandy scoffed. “Of course not. I’m not writing a history book, am I?”

“Thankfully not. You’d be terrible at that.”

“Are you implying that I’m good at writing plays then?”

Geralt let out a soft huff. “I didn’t say that.”

Dandy shook his head with a grin that was a bit wonky, but that got its point across all the same. This was the most shit eating expression there was.

“No, you can’t take that back. You definitely implied it.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, just for the sake of doing so. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Don’t need to. I played my fair share of shy young lovers. I know what someone sounds like who desperately tries not to sound like they just gave a compliment.”

Geralt grunted. It was strange imagining Dandy playing a shy character who was careful with their words. Then again, Geralt would have given his right hand to have seen that, if only to know what Dandy looked like when he was in love, even if it was only an act.

“I’ll take your silence as defeat. Which I shall graciously accept,” Dandy said and gave an exaggerated bow. “Now, back to ‘they don’t exist’. Because, you know, that’s not a new epiphany. Those characters and scenarios? They aren’t real. Everyone knows that. And that’s the whole point.” Dandy’s voice got louder with excitement and he stood up a little straighter. His fingers twitched, but they didn’t move otherwise. He probably wanted to use wild gestures as he had on stage, but wasn’t sure he wouldn’t accidentally knock something or someone over, now that nothing had its marks and places like it did during the play.

“You see,” Dandy said and leaned forward a little, “the point is they could exist. They start out as a vague spark of inspiration in the writer’s head and then, for just two hours, the theatre makes them real in the hearts of the audience. If we’ve done our job well, it’s going to stay real for a little while after the performance too. But it’s all about what could be and not what really is.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together as he listened to the explanation. It was clear that this was something Dandy had thought about oftentimes before. Listening to him felt like listening to Jaskier explain metre and the importance of key changes. Geralt didn’t understand a word of what he was saying and he wouldn’t be able to give a satisfying reply, but he loved seeing him get so swept up in his excitement nonetheless. Geralt loved it, for the sole reason that he got to see Dandy happy.

Still, Geralt was wrecking his mind for some reply, some way to not let this conversation die down. He clung to the thing that had always gotten Jaskier to light up.

“So, I take it you wouldn’t want me to tell you some real stories of adventures and monsters?”

Dandy’s brows shot up. “Do you have a lot of stories then? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the storytelling type – oh.” That last word was spoken so softly, so apologetically that something twisted in Geralt’s gut. Dandy’s hand reached out, searching, until it finally found Geralt’s arm. It wandered down until he gently held Geralt’s hand. “Do you know those stories from your friend? The dramatic one, you told me about?”

Geralt’s skin burned where they touched, searing him like a brand. He wanted to never let go.

“From him too. He certainly would have been better at telling them than me. Though less accurate.”

“Then how would you tell those stories? If they are yours to tell.”

“I- what?” An inexplicable sense of unease crept up Geralt’s spine. Something was wrong, though he couldn’t put his fingers on it.

“How do you know of monsters and adventures?”

Geralt’s blood turned to ice. “You don’t know,” he whispered as his eyes widened with the sudden cold realisation.

Dandy titled his head. He looked so trusting, so unassuming. He had trusted the wrong people at least once before.

“What do I not know?”

Geralt pulled his hand back, regretting it almost instantly, but he couldn’t let Dandy feel his hand starting to shake. Dandy’s brows pinched together and he drew back a little.

“Did I say something wrong?” Dandy sounded so painfully concerned and unsure. Of course he would be. He couldn’t know that the eyes looking at him where inhuman, that Geralt wore his scars like Dandy did his costumes and that the hand Dandy had held so gently was the hand of a mutant. “Geralt, are you alri-“

“I’m a witcher.” The words were curt and toneless. He had gone through this so often before – twice with Jaskier and Yarrow – but it never got any easier. The icy fear tearing its claws into his heart never showed mercy.

“A witcher?” Dandy sounded breathless. Then he narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger. “You’re not messing with me, are you? Because if you are, this really isn’t funny.”

“It’s not,” Geralt agreed. “Believe me, I know there’s nothing funny about this.”

Dandy’s face became unreadable. “Geralt…of Rivia?”

Geralt made an affirmative humming sound. He couldn’t bring himself to form words again.

Dandy let out a short laugh and rubbed his free hand over his face. “I can’t believe it. All my life, I don’t meet a single witcher and now… here were are.” His lips twitched into a smile, before a frown overtook his features again.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt finally said through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t have come. I should have told you earlier.”

“No! I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s just. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect you...to be you. My tutor told me about you - all those ancient stories about the White Wolf- but I never thought I’d actually get to meet you.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I need to think about this some more.”

Geralt’s heart sank. He had dealt with too many nobles not to recognise a dismissal if he heard one. Dandy had nothing to think about and even if he did, there was no doubt what his conclusion would be. Geralt wouldn’t get to see Dandy again.

“I understand.” Lips pressed into a thin line that barely resembled a smile, Geralt turned. “Goodbye, Dandy.”

“Wait!” Dandy called out. “You promised me stories. You will come back tomorrow to tell me some, won’t you?”

He sounded so hopeful that Geralt froze.

Dandy’s cane slid over the floor as the actor took some steps towards him. “And I know my performance today was good, but you should see me act while I’m wearing the full costume.” He gestured to the hat. He moved quicker than before, his voice almost desperate. “You’ll come back? You…Geralt? Are you even still there?”

Geralt stifled a curse. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I’m here. Forgot to move louder.” He swallowed. “Are you sure you want me to come back? I won’t hurt you if you don’t -”

“I am.” The reply came to fast, it nearly cut Geralt off.

“Then I’ll will.” Speaking the words out loud, giving this promise, lifted a weight off his chest. He huffed, as he picked up Dandy’s flimsy excuse. “I wouldn’t want to miss your best performance.”

He took another couple of steps away, this time making sure they would be audible, before he stopped again, half turning back to Dandy and said, “I would have wanted them to become friends. The pirate and the knight.”

Dandy smiled weaky at the floor. “Yeah, me too.”

“You wrote the play, didn’t you? Why didn’t you give them a happy ending?”

Dandy shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to. But it didn’t feel right.”

“I didn’t know the play would be a tragedy.”

Dandy tightened his grip on the cane. “Would you not have watched it if you had known?”

Geralt was quiet for a long time, taking in every part of Dandy. His hair that was so much longer than Jaskier’s had ever been. His clothes that were more expensive than Yarrow’s had likely been. His eyes that were the same blue as the eyes of the man he had loved and lost.

“Yes, I would have.” He hesitated. “But I would have still hoped they would get the ending they deserved.”

Dandy’s posture relaxed. “Maybe I’ll convince Nadine to let me write a sequel one day. And then they get to be friends.”

“I’d like that,” Geralt said hoarsely. “I’d really like that.”

--

“You came back,” Dandy said, dropping the prop dagger with the retractable blade that he’d ben twirling.

“I promised I would.”

“Even though you knew how the play would end?”

“Even so.” It was foolish, but Geralt hoped Dandy somehow knew he was smiling at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “I still like the middle bits. They make it all worth it.”

--

The posters announced the theatre troupe would stay in town for at least another four weeks, before they were to continue their travels and bring their plays to the next city that would have them.

Geralt would know; he’d spent longer than he would like to admit, studying the posters. In a moment of weakness, he had taken one down, folded it and hid it in Yarrow’s sketchbook. The picture of Dandy on the poster wasn’t very detailed, but it was still him and Geralt felt better falling asleep at night, knowing that he had at least this small part of him with him.

The troupe only had a limited repertoire of plays and Geralt had watched them all, multiple times even. He came to every performance, took every chance he could get to see Dandy again.

Whereas he had felt like an intruder at first, it now almost felt like coming home when he went backstage after a performance as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

If anyone had asked him why he kept coming back, he would have said, because he was the only one who would be able to recognise all of Dandy’s attackers, so Dandy would be safer with him around.

Nobody asked. No one even seemed to question for a second why he kept returning. As days turned into a week, the other actors and stagehands waved or nodded at Geralt when they saw him, pointing him in Dandy’s direction without him having to ask first. With time, Geralt even learned that Mika very much wasn’t intimidated by him, as he had thought at first, when he caught Mika teasing Dandy that his admirer had come back and then had the gull to wink at Geralt as Mika left them alone.

When he wasn’t watching the plays or talking with Dandy, Geralt was looking for contracts. It was practically impossible for a witcher to find enough work in one place to earn him the coin to last four weeks there, but he did his best, taking any job he could get. It was worth it, if it meant he’d get to see Dandy again.

Still, he must not have been very good at hiding how little he ate or how much sleep he lacked for wont of well-paying work, for they refused to let him pay to watch the plays, no matter how often he came by.

--

Dandy scooted to the side on the box, leaving space for Geralt to sit down next to him. Mika threw them an unimpressed look, when they were once again forced to take care of their props later, but their expression shifted into something amused and knowing, that made heat rise in Geralt’s cheeks, that he prayed wouldn’t be shown in a treacherous blush.

If it did, at least Dandy wouldn’t know to tease him about it. Not that he needed to. Judging from the small smirk on his face when their thighs pressed together for lack of space, he knew very well what his proximity was doing to Geralt.

Yet, he didn’t voice any of his thoughts out loud, leaving Geralt to wonder just how much he knew, how much he wanted, how much he was willing to accept from Geralt.

So for now, Geralt gave the one thing he knew Dandy would appreciate. Stories.

He tried sticking to the ones Jaskier had written that he still knew by heart, repeating the dramatic lines that were sown into his mind. Dandy would hang on his lips, no matter what adventure he spoke off, but oddly enough, he appeared to prefer it when Geralt spoke of newer contracts told in Geralt’s boring to-the-point manner.

Dandy would lean against him when he told him of blissfully uneventful days, lay his free hand soothingly onto Geralt’s arm when he spoke of failed contracts and clutched his hand tightly in his when Geralt told him about the scars he had gotten.

The warm feeling in his chest grew with every minute he spent with Dandy and with every story the actor told him of his own travels in return. Of the cities the troupe had been to, the courts and beggars they had performed for and how the play about the pirate had actually been the first play Dandy had ever written – at least partially. The most work had still been done by Nadine, who turned out to be the head of the company, though Dandy stage-whispered to Geralt that she was more like a mother to the rest of the troupe.

Geralt loved those moments where it felt as if it was just the two of them, the only other people around, the actors that Dandy trusted and that welcomed Geralt almost as a friend.

He loved it – and he hated it.

Befriending Dandy again, without telling him the truth about what he used to be to Geralt felt like lying. More than once, he almost told him the truth.

But what was he even supposed to say? If he told Dandy that he was the reincarnation of someone Geralt had loved, he would think Geralt mad at best. At the worst, he would be plunged into dread and a crisis of self, leading to his hatred for himself and Geralt.

He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk Dandy losing himself and the life that he loved.

Strangely, Geralt found that the thought of Dandy not remembering his past lives no longer hurt as id had before. Geralt still missed Jaskier and always would, but as he got closer to Dandy, he realised that it was no longer just the bard that Dandy used to be that was important to Geralt, but Dandy himself.

He was the same as Jaskier in some ways, but also different in others. Geralt wanted to find out all the ways in which Dandy was someone else. He wanted to truly know him, as the person he was now. As the friend, Geralt already saw in him, independent of who he had been in his past life.

So Geralt’s mind was constantly racing, trying to find something that would make him indispensable for the actor, something he could give to him - more than just stories - that would make him want to keep Geralt around for as long as he could.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to do anything of the sort. Dandy was more than happy to do everything he could, to make Geralt want to stay.

--

The first time Dandy invited Geralt to go for drinks with the rest of the troupe after a show, Geralt was both exhilarated and hesitant to accept the offer.

He knew, as soon as Dandy had asked, that he would be helpless and agree to come with him, but even as they were drinking round after round, Geralt’s mind wouldn’t stop going back to the fact that with every coin he spent so carelessly now, he would have to spend another night sleeping outside the city again and go back to hunting for his own food – if there even were enough animals reckless enough to come close to the city to let themselves be caught by him.

It would be hard, but Dandy leaning into him and putting his arm around him, blabbering happily at him in his adorable drunken state, made it all worth it.

When they parted in the early morning hours, Nadine pulled Geralt to the side. In no uncertain terms, she told him that since he was already spending all of his evenings around the stage, he could just as well help them around it. A pair of strong, helping hands was always appreciated and if Geralt was already there, Dandy wouldn’t annoy the rest of the troupe by senselessly worrying if Geralt would show up again. Of course, Nadine would pay him just the same as she would any other part-time stagehand.

Geralt was sure that it was just the alcohol talking, still he came by the stage earlier that evening and when he did, Nadine was greeting him with an appreciative nod and wasted no time ordering him around.

It was almost too good to be true. Like this, Geralt could afford to keep renting the cheap inn room, he had feared he would lose, and got to see Dandy more than he would have otherwise.

The only downside was that now Geralt didn’t get to sit on the box with him anymore while they talked, but experienced first-hand the annoyance of having Dandy laugh at him while preventing him from doing his work.

Geralt wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.

For the first time in far too long, Geralt felt like he was well and truly happy.

If he dreamed hard enough, he could almost make himself believe that life would stay like this.

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

A Witchy Kinda Love

Pairing: Witch!Bucky x Witch!Reader (Magic!AU)

Prompt: The world you lived in was known to be full of magic and strange, otherworldly things... But you knew true love was just an old witch's tale even if your familiar insisted otherwise...

Warnings: swearing, fluff, Bucky in cute outfits, way too much italicization, and also this thing is long as fuck. (10,410 words...oopsies)

A/N: Okay this got wayyyy outta hand but who the fuck cares? not me. I would love to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to @buckybarney​ who helped a lot in giving me the confidence and drive to finish this fic as well as @smutsonian​ who created this dope as mood board and also helped me edit a lil bit. You guys make me so happy and I love and appreciate you both so much<3

✸ ✴ ✦ 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

“Calcifer will you please come help me with this?” your exasperated voice could be heard from the balcony of your studio apartment as you struggled to balance the hoard of glass bottles in your arms. 

Not a moment later, a small fox came trotting onto the (very overgrown) terrace, “Ya know I have things to do too. I’m not your butler,” 

You scoffed at your familiar's grumbled complaint before handing him a couple bottles to hold in his mouth and wrap his tail around, “I know you’re not my butler Cal. But I got you that essence of toad the other day so the least you could do is help me organize my potion materials for a bit.” 

The fox let out a low growl and walked back into your small apartment while you followed behind him, “You know how hard it is for me to form opposable thumbs lady? It’s gonna take a lot more than essence of toad for me to comply,” 

You glared playfully at the fox before sighing and rolling your eyes, knowing exactly what the sly creature was trying to get you to do, “Calcifer if you want pheasant for dinner just ask,” 

There was no response, just the quiet clinking of bottles rolling to the floor as you and your partner began to sort through everything. You really need to start organizing your stuff better. Last week you mixed up your newt toes with skinks and almost blew up your home, so it’s safe to say that your clutter has hit a breaking point. You left Calcifer to sit on your frameless bed as he sorted your bottles to go back out onto your small terrace, breathing in the scent of all of your plants that had happily covered every inch they possibly could. You figured it was as good a time as any to harvest all the herbs you’d need for the month and bottle them up for safe keeping. Quietly humming to yourself, you went around plucking the healthiest looking leaves, sprigs, and sprouts you could find, setting each pile onto the antique writers desk you had put out there as a space for your potion making. 

“Hey Calcifer do you know where I put my Ever-Writing Quill?” You question, brows furrowing as you dig through the drawers of your desk. 

“You don’t remember? You sat on it last week and snapped it in half!” The fox’s response was followed by a string of cackles and snorts as he laughed to himself about your misfortune. 

You let out a loud groan of frustration, tilting your head to the sky and stomping your foot in a small childish fit. “Why didn’t you put it on my shopping list?” You ask, walking back inside to glare at the creature comfortably sitting on your bed. 

Calcifer smiled widely, his pointy teeth fully on show in a sly grin, “oopsies, my bad!” he raised what would be his paws but are now little hands due to his helpful transfiguration powers, and held them in an innocent shrug. 

You squint your eyes at the reynard but hold your tongue, shoving your feet into a pair of leather boots. “Come on, you’re coming with me to the market so I can get a new quill,” 

It didn’t take too long before you had gathered everything you needed, making sure to grab your sweater as the weather hadn’t gotten much warmer in the past months and you absolutely hated to be cold. It only took a stern glare and a threat to have salad for dinner to convince Calcifer to go with you. Though you didn’t miss the petty and painful nip to your calf as you walked out of your door and into the dank hallway of your apartment building. 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

The sky was colored a dark grey with intimidating clouds, blocking out any chance of sun or warmth as you walked down the streets of your small town. You passed by cute little shops and a restaurant or two as you made your way to the market. Your boots stomped loudly on the cobblestone walkway, echoed by the light clicking of Calcifier’s nails while he trotted beside you. 

Your town didn’t have many witches, but the non-magic residents were still fully supportive of you and all the other witches and warlocks that resided in the small rainy town of Adelaide. You had lived there for years and not once had you come in contact with what your community called “Salamers”, bigoted people who had hate filled vendettas against your kind. Many of your friends who had lived in bigger cities had told you about their horror stories involving bigoted people who had cursed (pun intended) and swore at them. Your friend Peter even told you about a man who had spit on him after finding out he was a witch. 

The thoughts of such hateful actions caused a crease in your brow to form and it didn’t leave until you were at the small stone entrance to Wanda’s Magickal Menagerie, the only entrance to the market for miles. It was one of your favourite things about the magical world. The outside looked like just another building with pretty stone walls and a worn wooden sign displaying the name, but to anyone with a high enough magical presence, it was an entrance to the biggest market in the wiccan world. Hundreds of vendors were beyond that door, hidden away to a different space and time by a carefully constructed spell performed by the most powerful witches in existence. 

You couldn’t help the excited pulse of your heart as you opened the door and stepped into what seemed like an entirely different universe. The hustle and bustle of busy shoppers instantly clouded your vision and ears. The air was warm and lighting low in the crowded alleyway that led to the entrance and exit of the marketplace. You took only a moment to get used to the different surroundings before setting off on your way to the real Wanda’s Magickal Menagerie. 

It only took a few steps before you heard the loud yip of pain from your familiar, instantly making you whip around to see what happened, “I hate it here, Y/n! Everyone steps on my tail, it smells weird, It’s dark, everything is all muted because apparently witches only like the color red and I’m colorblind-” 

“Alright ya baby c’mere,” you interrupted Cal’s whining, bending down and allowing him to jump up and wrap around your shoulders. 

“People have no respect for familiars, it’s so uncool,” he grumbled into your ear, resting his snout on the ridge of your shoulder. 

“I know, buddy. But you know how much I hate going out alone. I really appreciate you coming with me. When we’re done here we can go to the butcher and you can pick out what bird you want for tonight,” Your hand came up to softly scratch your friend behind his ear, soothing his nerves and continuing on your way to your final destination. 

It didn’t take long before you arrived at a small wooden hut, a modest sign with an address hanging out front for advertisement to passersby. You quickly approached the shop and pushed the door open, entering the cozy and familiar atmosphere of Wanda’s business. 

“Hey Y/n! Cally, hi baby!” Your entrance was met immediately with happy greetings from your long time friend. 

“Hey Wanda,” you and Calcifer greet in unison, smiles adorning both your faces. 

The red headed witch skipped towards you, wrapping you in a warm hug and lovingly petting the fox around your shoulders. “How’ve you guys been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” 

“We’ve been trying to declutter the apartment. Y/n’s become such a hoarder.” Calcifer blurts out, letting one of his signature cackles break free. 

“I am not! I’ve just been experimenting with my potions, so I have a lot more ingredients and supplies right now,” You hurriedly explain, not wanting to have your friend think of you as a crazy old witch with a hoarding problem. 

Wanda lets out a quiet giggle at the pair of friends in front of her, finding the relationship between you and your familiar adorable, “What brings you in today? Did you lose your monkey paw again?” 

You playfully roll your eyes at Wanda, “No, I uh... I broke my Ever-Writing Quill,” you admit, trying to fight the warmth that crept up your neck and cheeks. 

Wanda let out a quick burst of laughter before turning around and leading you through the many shelves and tables of her shop, “Come on, I just got a fresh shipment in,”

✸ ✴ ✦ 

“Thanks Wanda! I’ll see you and Vis for brunch on Sunday,” You smile and give your friend a kiss on the cheek goodbye before exiting her shop. 

“Alright Cal, is there anything else you need before we go? Do you want me to get you more fur oil? Are you good on that incense you like?” 

“Yeah I think I’m okay, at this point I just want food,” He grumbled, lifting his head up from your shoulder and sniffing the air. 

You nodded your head in understanding and began the trip back to where you first entered the marketplace. The walkways were absolutely packed; it was nearly impossible to keep from bumping into other shoppers. Calcifer could be heard grumbling profanities every time someone brushed or bumped against him. You couldn’t blame the poor creature, he was naturally anxious and didn’t like strangers, so making trips like these were never too fun for him. You were trying your best to avoid people, but luck was against you and as you were ducking out of the way of one man who looked exactly like Merlin, you ended up running right into someone else. 

You fell right to the floor, Calcifer tumbling from your shoulder and sliding a few feet away due to the force, “Ah! Calcifer? Cal are you okay?” 

“Shit! are you okay? I didn’t see you, I am so sorry,”

Ignoring the stranger above, you frantically look around for your lost friend and spot him a few feet away from you, curling up into a scared orange ball and shoving his snout under his hind leg to hide. You scramble over to him, scooping his small body into your arms and holding onto him tightly, “Oh Calcifer I’m so sorry! I should have never asked you to come with me, I know you hate it here and now look what happened,” 

You couldn’t help the stress induced tears that welled in your eyes as you pet the shaking fox in your arms, “I’m okay, Y/n. Just a little shaken,” His voice was quiet and you knew he wasn’t being completely honest but you knew getting out of the crowded place was more important at that point. 

A tall figure suddenly shadowed over you, making you cower out of instinct and scoot back a few paces, “Hey are you and your fox okay? Really, I didn’t see you. I should have been paying more attention, let me help you up,” A hand comes down offering to lift you from the dirty concrete. 

With one arm tightly holding onto Calcifer, you use your other hand to grab onto the strangers and lift yourself up. “Thanks,” You mumble out quickly, keeping your head down and immediately walking away, your mind completely focused on getting the hell out of these cursed alleyways. 

Once you had fallen out of the exit and back onto the cobblestone streets of Adelaide, you could finally take a deep breath. Leaning up against the cold stone wall near the entrance, you closed your eyes, sucking in the fresh air and gently petting the creature still firmly gripped in your arms. 

A choked cry escapes you suddenly, “I am so sorry Calcifer,” You absolutely hated that you had caused your friend such a terrible experience. He could’ve gotten hurt, someone could’ve stolen him away from you, the street was so crowded you would’ve never found him again! Calcifer would’ve never forgiven you! Might not even forgive you now! Just the thought of it- 

“Alright calm down kid... I’m perfectly fine. Paw hurts a little bit but, really, I’m okay,” the fox in your arms looked up at you, a small smile on his snout as he nuzzled into your hair. 

“Are you sure? I can take you to the vet-” Before you can continue to worry about the injured animal, a deep voice sounds from above you. 

“Uh hey...” 

You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and look up, eyes widening in surprise as you stare into steely iris’s that seemed to have a mission on copying the sky that day. “H-hello,” 

As you stared at the burly looking man in front of you, you couldn’t help but side eye his stature. Adorning all black with little glints of silver rings and buckles here and there, a few tiny scars marking his well-structured jaw and cheek bones, and good god those boots must be so heavy and-is that a metal hand peeking out from the long sleeve of his leather jacket?! This guy is too scary to be this attractive...

“I uh... I was the one to bump into you earlier. It’s totally my fault and I really didn’t mean for you to drop your fox like that-it’s just that my familiar took off and I just wasn’t paying attention and it seemed like a pretty bad fall and you were so focused on protecting your pet-” “He’s not a pet,” you spit out quickly, a stern glare etched into your features. 

“R-right, right sorry-I just-I was-I misspoke...” he trailed awkwardly, roughly dragging a hand through brunette hair and grimacing at his own failure to compose a sensible response. 

“Are you a witch?” you mumble out quietly, your glare softening into a more apprehensive, yet curious, stare. 

“Uh yeah, yeah I’m only entry level though. My friend Sam helped me get into the market so I could get a few things but then...ya know” 

You stood silently, not exactly sure of what this weirdo wanted from you. If he thought you were going to apologize he was very mistaken. What if he planned to rob you? To take Calcifer and run? The thought made your grip on the animal even more secure, if that were even possible. 

“Is your arm okay?” Worried eyes gazed down at your arm and the man took a small step forward. 

“What?” You try to flinch away from the soft grasp of his hand around your bicep, but only end up pushing yourself against the wall. 

The man inspected the inflamed scrape that burned a path along your forearm and up to your elbow, “That looks pretty bad doll, do you want some medicine? I think I might have a little with me. Hey Sibi!” 

“Holy shit!” A sharp intake of breath forced its way into your lungs as you saw a giant white wolf bound up to the man. Your breathing sped up, heartbeat following along with it as you gazed upon the giant beast. 

“Do you mind? I gotta get into my bag,” He asked gently, the wolf immediately turning to give him easy access to a large pack that was slung over her back, “Thanks Sibi, can you go find Sam? Tell him I’ll be a bit longer than expected,” The wolf let out a gruff noise of agreement and nodded it’s head before heading back through the magical entrance. 

The man turned back around and walked towards you once more. You didn’t flinch this time when he reached for your arm, careful to make sure you had a good grip on Cal before opening a bottle of light blue gel and tapping some out onto the palm of his hand, “My name is Bucky, by the way,” 

“Okay,” you mumble out awkwardly, your anxious nature getting the best of you and blocking any form of friendly communication to come across while Bucky covers your wound with the gel.

“Her name is Y/n, I’m Calcifer,” You stare down incredulously at the fox, not expecting him to introduce you to this stranger. 

Bucky smiled up at you and the fox, shiny white teeth on display, “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” 

The comment instantly made your face heat up in embarrassment. “Thank y-you...” 

Bucky straightened up after he was done dressing your wound, thankfully taking a step back to give you some space. Why wasn’t he leaving? Why did he care so much about some rando he ran into at the market? Maybe this was just a front to try and rob you...

“Well uh... I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed real spooked back there and I could tell you hurt your arm so I just wanted to check up on ya,” Bucky’s eyes shined brightly as he explained himself. A pink tint colored his cheeks and neck as he sheepishly stared down at the ground. 

His shy nature made your lips tilt into a small smile of your own and you couldn’t help thinking about how cute he looked like that, “thank you, that’s very kind,” you mumbled out.

There was a beat of silence as you and Bucky avoided each other's eye contact before a familiar patronizing voice interrupted, “Hey kid if you’re done flirtin’ with this guy can we go home? I’m starvin’ right now,” 

“Calcifer!” you scold immediately, the familiar burn of pure embarrassment instantly appearing across your face. 

Bucky, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by the fox’s comment and burst out into a fit of deep chuckles, running his metal hand through the long tresses of rich brown hair. 

“Your fox is cute,” 

The comment made Calcifer let out a gruff murmur of disagreement, making you join Bucky in his laughter, “Yeah, I’m really happy he chose to stay with me. Um... I should probably go. Cal hasn’t eaten since breakfast and I still need to go to the butcher-” “There’s a butcher in this town?” The pure curiosity on Bucky’s face made your smile grow that much more as he finally took in his surroundings. 

“Yeah, it’s about two blocks down from here, it’s Calcifer's favorite place,” You say, backing up a few steps to signal your exit. 

“A-alright! well, uh it was nice meeting you! Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” The male witch fumbles with his words as he realizes the conversation is ending. 

“Sure, maybe,” you nod in agreement, fully turning around and beginning the walk towards your destination. 

As you walked away you couldn’t help but let the small smile on your face grow. What a dork he was... Almost as awkward as you were, the way he kept messing with his hair- ”He’s still lookin’ at ya... And what was all that stuff you were thinking about getting robbed? Why were you so fixated on gettin’ robbed?” 

“Calcifer for christ’s sake!” Your voice was filled with exasperation, rolling your eyes at the familiar's comments and ignoring the fact that the cute witch was still watching you walk away.

“Are you seriously thinking about how him staring at you is cute? Humans are so weird...” 

“Stop reading my thoughts you creep!” 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

A groan echoed throughout your apartment as a streak of the bright morning sun landed on your eyes and woke you from your slumber. Clapping a hand down onto your eyes to block the light, you roughly slide it down in hopes of wiping the fatigue that plagued you. Slowly but surely, you untangled yourself from your sheets, stretching your waking limbs and yawning with an over dramatic sound. You blindly felt around for your phone that was lying on the floor directly by your mattress. Once you located the small device, you tapped it on and read the time. 10:47 am, Sunday...Fantastic. 

You laid on your mattress for a bit, unaware of anything but your tired bones. The only reason you didn’t fall back asleep right then and there was the light buzz that came from your phone. You lazily picked it back up and stared at the too bright screen, taking a moment to comprehend the text that popped up on your home screen. 

Wanda Maxi: Hey! Are you on your way?

What? On my way...

“OH FUCK” You bolt out of bed, slipping on part of your sheet that was draped onto your wooden flooring and almost face planting. 

“Calcifer wake up we gotta have brunch with Wanda and Vis!” you scream out to nothing specific, unaware of where your familiar was. 

As quickly as possible, you gathered an outfit, shoved a toothbrush into your mouth to brush it a little too harshly, got your hair ready, and threw your clothes on. It’s not until you’re almost done getting ready before you see the bright fox bolt in from the balcony, “How could you forget about brunch? This happens every week for fucks sake!” 

“This isn’t entirely my fault! You knew about it too!” you argue while lathering deodorant onto your underarms, already sweating from the stress of the situation. 

“I’m a fox! You think I keep alarms?” he yells back at you, not bothering to stop and look at you as he gathers your things while you hurriedly tried to shove your foot into a shoe. 

Once your shoes were on and Calcifer had given you everything you’d need, you ran to your door and swung it open, “You wanna run with me or do you want me to carry you?” 

“Oh please you can barely run by yourself. You couldn’t handle the weight,” Calcifer scoffs, running between your legs and out of the apartment. 

You immediately lock your door and run after him, “So rude...” you huff to yourself and catch up to the fox. 

✸ ✴ ✦

It only took you about five minutes to sprint across town and make it to the small clay cottage that your friends had lived in for years now. The mossy dark brown Terracotta roof and grey wooden door that had ivy vining in and out of it gave a lovely natural look to the house and you couldn’t help but admire the wonderful home the couple had built. 

Calcifer’s quiet pants mixed with your wheezing as you stumbled up to the door and knocked loudly to signal your arrival. The door swung open, revealing a smirking Wanda. 

“You woke up late again didn’t you?” 

Still catching your breath, you nodded and followed her into her home. Wanda looked gorgeous, as always, wearing a light and flowing yellow sundress with matching shoes and a pretty white ribbon that was tied into her hair. 

“I’m so sorry Wanda, neither of us set an alarm,” you breathed out, following her towards the kitchen. 

“It’s okay sweetie, we didn’t have to wait or anything, all of us were busy talking about the latest man who was admitted into the Grand Council,” she smiled back at you, warm eyes shining from the sunlight that was coming through the glass doors that led to their garden. 

You tilt your head in confusion when you realize her phrasing, “All of us?” 

Wanda gently put a fist to her temple, her face twisting into a slight grimace, “I’m sorry sweetie I completely forgot to mention I invited some friends today! Don’t worry, they’re both great and I’m sure you’ll get along just fine,” 

You nod your head hesitantly, not entirely believing your friend. You wondered who she had invited... Many times over Wanda and Vision have told stories about their old friends who they had met throughout their lives. From your understanding, they had built a wonderful family together and had helped and cared for each other for years so you had no doubt they would be friendly. 

Before you had time to voice whatever worries you had, you were interrupted by the fall of multiple pairs of footsteps. It didn’t take long for three men to walk into the room, all talking enthusiastically over each other. You automatically recognized the slim man walking over to Wanda as Vision, his bright eyes greeting you as he wrapped his arms around Wanda’s slim waist. 

You turn to the other two guests and are unable to hold in an audible gasp when you recognize one of them. Those chilling eyes copied yours as they widened to an almost comical size. 

“Y/n...” The sound of your name coming from his full, pink lips made your hands clam up. 

He was dressed much more formal today with a navy blue sweater over a button up shirt, dark jeans and the cutest wing-tipped shoes you’d ever seen. He looked like he had just gotten out of church with his grandmother. 

“H-hello..” you mutter back, a heavy cloud of confusion and stress surrounding itself around you. 

“Oh...Do you-do you guys know each other already?” Wanda tilts her head a curious finger flickering between the two of you as her squinting eyes try to find the connection. 

Bucky glances at you, then Wanda, then back at you, as if to ask the question of who would be telling the tale of your meeting. You however settled for staring up at the ceiling, handing that responsibility off to Bucky. 

“We um, bumped into each other at the market the other day,” his answer comes after a slight moment of hesitation. 

You held back a scoff at his choice of words... More like you ran over me and almost killed my familiar. 

“Oh great! So then you’ll only have to meet Sam,” Wanda smiles and gestures to the stranger who had refrained from speaking up until now. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sam Wilson,” he greets you with a bright smile, a charming gap between his two front teeth and a warm glow emanating from rich brown eyes that winked mischievously. 

He was quite handsome and his automatic charm caused the fog of awkward shyness to thicken in your mind, “Nice to meet you too,” you smile politely and shove your hand out for him to shake. 

A deep chuckle sounds from within his muscular chest as he grasps your hand and gives a firm shake. You quickly tell him your name before stepping back and allowing a new conversation to start. It was hard to focus on what everyone was saying as you felt the obvious gaze of Bucky peering at you from across the kitchen. You found the best way to keep yourself from staring back at him was to focus on the small amount of dirt that you could see hidden underneath your nails. You really needed to get them done again... Although it gets pretty difficult to achieve correct measurements with the long pointy acrylics that seem to be your go-to choice. 

“I dunno man, I just have really bad vibes about that Pierce guy... Steve agrees with me,” Sam’s comment brings you back to the conversation which you had apparently zoned out of. 

“Where is Steven? I thought he said he would be able to attend today?” Vision, always the formal talker, had a questioning glint to his eyes as he switched his focus from Sam to Bucky, then back. 

“Liberty wasn’t feeling too good so he had to take her to a vet,” Bucky was the one to answer.

“Liberty?” a questioning tilt to your head signals your confusion.

Bucky smiles at you before answering, “Yeah, she’s Steve’s pet. Super cute golden retriever that he picked up at the pound a couple years back,”

“Oh... Is he not a witch like you guys?” it surprised you that there was someone amongst their group that wasn’t practicing magic. 

Bucky subconsciously takes a step towards you, his body language changing to signal he was now solely focused on you, “Yeah he tried a few years ago but, it didn’t really go too well,” 

As Bucky answered he held up his metal prosthetic and wiggled his fingers, “Are you serious?! Your friend did that to you?” you gasp in shock, your eyes widening in amazement as you reach out to touch his arm without thinking. 

The metal was smooth and you were so enamored by the new information as well as the mechanical appendage that you failed to notice how tense Bucky got and how multiple pairs of eyes were staring at you. Your fingertips gently ran over the cool ridges of metal sections, “Wow... Did he turn your arm metal or did... did something else happen?” you glance between pretty blue eyes and steely metal. 

Bucky slowly reaches his arm out so you have a better view of what it’s like, “Actually that was kind of a joke,” he stutters, an awkward smile gracing his lips, “The real story is way more depressing,” he mumbles.

You halt your movements and stare up at him, the familiar yet heavy weight of embarrassment settling itself deep within your chest, “O-oh... I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to overstep-” You pull your hands away, folding them tightly against your chest. 

“No it’s okay! Really I’ve had a lot worse interactions,” he chuckles and reassures you once again that you didn’t overstep any boundaries. 

You nod in understanding but inevitably go back into your default of shy silence. Bucky stares down at you with a kind smile in hopes of making you feel a little less like an ass. It doesn’t work. 

After a few moments of deafening silence, Wanda makes a move over to the oven, “Alright everyone, quiche time!” 

“Aren’t you vegan?” Bucky mumbles, walking over to the table and preparing to sit down. As Wanda gives her response and mentions the fake eggs she found at the market, you walk over to the table as well. Bucky pulls out the seat closest to you and gives you a reassuring nod. You give a thankful smile and sit down, allowing him to help you push it back towards the table. 

“Thank you,” your quiet voice has Bucky grinning as he sits down next to you.

“Of course, doll” 

Brunch goes off without any more awkward spells and with the help of Wanda’s amazing skills in the kitchen, you begin to feel yourself relax with each bite you take. The afternoon goes on with the others telling you about how they met, silly stories about their friendly adventures, and at some point the conversation turned to you and what it had been like growing up a witch. It was a unique characteristic that none of your friends, new or old, had experienced. 

“Well, my dad is the one who originally got me into it... He was an aura reader like Wanda, and my mom focused more on spell casting and potions,” a warm grin on your lips signal the fondness your memories bring as you tell about your childhood, everyone was completely invested. 

“especially Bucky” Calcifer pointed out silently, giving you a knowing smirk from where he sat on the floor next to you. 

oh fuck off you stupid fox

✸ ✴ ✦ 

With full stomachs and a few full containers of leftovers, you, Sam, and Bucky stood gathered outside of Wanda’s front door as you all belted out a chorus of goodbye’s and excellent days. 

“It was really nice meeting you Y/n, make sure to keep in touch! I’ll be waiting for a carrier owl,” Sam winks at you as he begins to walk down the path towards the sidewalk, effectively leaving you and Bucky by yourselves. 

“He didn’t even let me say goodbye back...” you mumble out, staring at the confident figure that now waited at the property line by a pretty bush of hydrangeas. 

“Yeah... He’s weird like that,” Bucky agrees, glancing at his friend before fully turning his attention to you, “um so I’ve been meaning to maybe like... um maybe get your contact info? I just... I was maybe thinking we could grab like, tea or something sometime?”

As you take in Bucky’s words, you can’t help but notice the awkward and anxious movements he had started, reminding you of the first day you had met him. It made your lips twitch up just slightly. 

“Oh? like, my phone number?” the dumb answer almost had you on your knees with how hard you cringed. 

Bucky let out a breathy chuckle, “Uh yeah, yeah or like maybe an address? Or ugh that’s probably too personal-” “No! no it’s um it’s not,” you answer a little too quickly, discreetly pinching the skin on the back of your hand as punishment for your blatant lack of social skills. 

After a quick beat of neither of you knowing what to do, you finally speak back up, “You could come over tomorrow if you’d like,” 

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would he want to come over so- “Yeah I’d love to!” Bucky answers enthusiastically, pulling his phone out from his back pocket and holding it out to you, “Just give me your number and I'll text you, we can figure out the details later, K?” 

You gingerly take the smartphone in your hands and type in your number, forgetting to put a name in for yourself before handing it back to him. Bucky’s hand slightly brushes yours as he takes it back and you’re too busy focusing on the lingering feeling on your hand that you miss the cheeky grin on Bucky’s face as he types in a contact name. 

“Hey tin soldier! You ready yet?” Sam’s smooth voice has you turning around with a start at his unexpected call. 

Bucky nods towards his friend, waving him off and turning back to you, “So I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,” 

“Tomorrow,” You confirm with a nod of your own.

Bucky’s smile grows tenfold and he takes a small step towards you, hesitating for only a moment before he leans in and gives a chaste kiss to the apple of your cheek. He doesn’t wait around to see your reaction, jogging over to Sam and slapping him on the shoulder before walking off down the cobblestone streets. 

Standing with your eyes the size of the moon and your face as hot as the goddamn sun, you don’t fail to catch the string of comments that your sleazy little fox makes. 

“Oh Bucky please just take me away! I’m too shy and socially inept to even speak to you properly, please I just love you sooooo much!” Calcifer’s high pitched mocking made your blood boil as he wheezed with laughter. 

“Shut up you stupid fox!” you yell at him, hooking your foot underneath his belly and pushing up and forward to flip him on his side. 

The reynard continued to cackle hysterically as you walked away from him. You could hear the broken comments he made as Calcifer continued to berate you on the bumpy interactions you always seemed to have with the handsome witch. 

“You’re sleeping outside tonight!” you call back to him, a smug tilt to your lips.

The laughing stopped immediately and was replaced by the clicking of little nails on mossy stone. 

✸ ✴ ✦ 

Calcifer’s eyes were glued to your figure as you made a mad dash around your apartment to make sure everything was clean and properly put away. Your socks allowed you to slide across the wooden floors as you shoved the rest of your freshly cleaned towels into a closet and slam it shut. Quickly turning the other way to sprint then slide the rest of the way to your little kitchenette where an almost comically small oven bakes banana nut muffins. 

“You are a nervous wreck right now kid,” Cal points out, a hint of worry in his mostly humorous tone. 

You look over at him, cringing at the realization that, yeah, you probably do look like a nervous wreck...

“It’s just that... No one has been over in a while and the last person that did come over was Wanda and I know she doesn’t care all that much about my tidiness so it was okay but I have no clue as to how Bucky is going to react and it's not like I don’t want to impress him, I mean I don’t need to impress him like my life doesn’t depend on what he thinks but,” “Christ’s sake kid-” “I mean for gods sake my bed is on the floor! He’ll probably think I’m some broke slob who-” Knock Knock 

“Oh my gods,” you whisper scream, no doubt did your aura radiate pure panic...

You shuffle over to the door, shoving your face up against it to look through the peephole and make sure it was the only person you were expecting. Taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself, then open the door. 

“Good morning, Bucky!” you greet, a bright smile on your face as you take in your guest’s appearance. 

Bucky is looking extra handsome today as he wears a dark grey cardigan over a white shirt, dark fitted jeans and, to your extreme surprise, black Converse.

“Hey, Doll” he smiles back softly at you, quickly taking in your simple outfit of a cute yellow crop top and black shorts, “T-these are for you,”  he mutters quickly and pulls a pretty bouquet of wildflowers out from behind his back. 

You beam at the thoughtful gesture and Calcifer doesn’t miss the sense of pride that Bucky gives off at your excited reaction, “Wow, Bucky these are so cute! I love them, thank you very much,” gingerly taking the bundle of fragrant colors, you invite your guest inside and immediately go to your kitchenette to find a receptacle for them.  

Once you find a nice little vase to put them in you spin back around to find Bucky looking around your small apartment, “Um...It’s not much-but the rent is really good and since it’s just me and Cal it works out pretty nice. If you aren’t comfortable we can always-” “I love it, Y/n. It’s really... you,” he glances back towards you, the look in his eyes warming you from deep within your chest. 

“Hey, tin man” the both of you jump slightly as Calcifer interrupts the thoughtful interaction. 

Bucky crouches down and reaches his hand out to the fox, “Hey... Nice to see you again Calcifer” 

“Where’s your dog?” completely ignoring Bucky’s polite greeting, Calcifer passes by him. 

“Oh uh... Sibi is still in training so I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to bring her into someone else’s home just yet,” the man answers awkwardly, dropping his hand and standing back up to his full height. 

Calcifer be nice you little skeez.

I’m just tryin’ get to know the guy, alright? 

You roll your eyes at the red animal and tell him to go onto the balcony. He thankfully listens, giving you and Bucky some privacy. 

“Sorry about him... He can be a little difficult sometimes,” you apologize quickly, nervously rubbing your clammy hands on the front of your shorts. 

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “It’s alright, I understand,” 

You give a questioning look at his phrasing and he quickly moves to elaborate, “Well, uh I guess-Ya know- since you guys are really close... I can understand why he would be protective because um, well since I’m like I’m trying to-” “Trying to what?” 

Bucky’s face was beet red as he tried and failed to explain himself to you, who had absolutely no idea what he was going on about, “In any case, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you soon,” you smile warmly at him and turn towards your oven. 

The embarrassed man watches as you take out the piping hot tray of muffins and set them out on the counter to cool. His stomach growls low as the deliciously sweet smell hits his nostrils. 

“How about we go sit down while those cool off?” you suggest and lead Bucky over to the small sofa that sat against the only free wall. 

You tuck yourself into one corner, folding your legs so they were pressed against your chest as you tried to give Buck as much room as possible. It was quite adorable to see the tall, beefy guy try and squeeze himself onto your small couch. A quiet laugh escapes you and he glances towards you, his cheeks tinged pink, “Guess M’not really made for studio apartment sized things,” he chuckles. 

Glad to see he isn’t upset about the cramped seating arrangement, you relax a little bit and start asking Bucky about his life. The two of you fall into easy conversation, talking about your childhood, past and current friends, how Bucky got into magic, your familiars and anything else that came to your minds. 

By the time there was a slight lull in conversation, it was already mid afternoon and you couldn’t help the growls that sounded from your stomach. 

“Um, do you want me to make us some lunch? I have like, sandwich stuff or mac n cheese?” you ask, swinging your legs off the couch and standing up to stretch. 

“Yeah that sounds good, you want me to help?” Bucky follows your movements and you shake your head. 

“S’okay, if you want you can go onto the balcony and I’ll be right out,” You smile up at him, turning to your little kitchen and focusing on making lunch. 

Bucky makes his way out onto your balcony covered in vining plants and hanging bottles filled with god knows what. Calcifer was asleep on a slightly rusted chair in the corner, his tail and legs curled into his body, making him look like a furry ball of orange. Bucky had never seen a work space quite like it. Sam was more of a trader so there wasn’t much potion making in the home they shared together. As he stared in wonder at all of the bottles covering the antique desk and a good part of the floor, curiosity got the best of him and Bucky couldn’t help but to start picking them up and exploring what was inside. 

Most of the bottles were labelled so he didn’t need to worry about those ones, the curious man was more interested in the unmarked ones. Popping off the cork to a green glass bottle filled with a powder, he brought his nose up to sniff and immediately gagged at the overpowering scent. 

“What is that?” he grumbled quietly to himself, closing that one and picking up a new one. 

This bottle did in fact have a label, but it was chicken scratch and for the life of him, Bucky couldn’t tell what the hell it meant as he picked up the murky glass bottle filled with what seemed to be a bright purple fog and opened it, taking in a quick whiff. 

Almost immediately Bucky felt the effects of the mystery potion and he had to steady himself on the desk so he wouldn’t fall over. Blinking a few times, he gathered his wits and slowly stood straight up. 

“Whaaat are you doing?” Your curious voice from the sliding door made Bucky jump and spin around, hiding the bottle behind his back. 

Your eyes quickly shift from the chilling blue irises of your guest to the suspicious amount of movement happening behind his large frame. Bucky lets out a quick scoff before answering, “What? Nothing, just checkin stuff out ya know,” 

His poor attempt at a casual demeanor was lost on you and it was quite evident in the suspicious squint of your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in front of you. 

“Which bottle did you sniff?” you ask flatly, sticking your hand out expectantly, the other hand making its way onto your hip.

“I-I didn’t sniff any bottle,” Bucky mutters out, metal hand going up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

You waited only a moment before he spoke again, seemingly unable to hold back his comment, “That’s a lie I sniffed this bottle,”

He immediately took a bottle out from behind his back and placed it in your still awaiting palm. You knew what it was as soon as you saw the color of the substance inside and began to laugh. It was the hardest you had laughed all day and the resounding noise of your joyous fit surely made its way down to the cobblestone streets below. Your right hand left its initial place on your hip and placed itself over the left side of your chest as you bent over to steady yourself. 

“Y-you just inhaled a shit ton of Truth-Be-Told Smoke” You cackled out loudly. 

Bucky, though entirely confused, couldn’t help the smile that painted itself onto his pink lips as he stared at your beautiful figure shaking from the prettiest laughing fit he had ever heard, “Your laugh is really pretty,” he blurted out, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth afterwards. 

The compliment startled you enough to calm your laughter and straighten your posture back out, “Thank you, Buck. So I’m just gonna assume you’re wondering what’s happening right now,” He answered you by quickly nodding his head.

You giggled and continued on, “Basically, this stuff is used mainly as a partial ingredient in other potions, but by itself, especially undiluted, it’s a high performing truth serum. You won’t be able to say anything except for what comes to your mind for quite some time,” 

“That makes me really nervous,” Bucky’s voice sounds strained as the hand that was covering his mouth moves to wipe down his face in stress.

“Well don’t go sniffin’ a girl’s potions next time!” you giggle out, walking over to return the potion to its proper place. 

“You smell really good,” before you have a chance to react bucky groans in frustration, “Fuck I am so sorry,” 

A light laugh escapes your lips and you look up at Bucky’s grimacing face, “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Plus it’s nice to know I made the right decision on what body wash to buy,” 

You motion Bucky to follow you back inside, ensuring there would be no more accidental roofying. Two sandwiches sit side by side on the small sofa, a little pile of chips next to each one. 

“This is really kind of you, Y/n” Bucky smiles, lifting up both plates of food and waiting for you to get comfy next to him before handing you one. 

“It’s no problem Bucky, you’re my friend now and-” “I don't want to be your friend,” he bursts out, making you frown.

Bucky quickly fixes his mistake, “No sorry- I uhm- I misspoke I-I don’t want to just be your friend.” another grimace makes its way onto his face, “That’s embarrassing for me to say, I’m embarrassed,” 

If you weren’t already sweating nervously, you were now. Clammy hands grip at the paper plate on your lap as you try and will your face to extinguish the fire that has engulfed it. “B-Bucky, I um…” 

“I’m sorry I said that… It probably makes you never want to see me again,” Bucky mutters out, anxiously playing with the small pile of potato chips.

“Actually…” you begin, taking a deep breath and continuing, “It doesn’t bother me at all,”

Bucky lets out a long breath of air, “Holy shit really? That’s fucking awesome because I wasn’t gonna tell ya that today but then I smelt that thing and I’m sweating real bad right now with how nervous I am-I should not have said that, but now that you said what you just said-” 

You put your hand up, signaling for the witch to stop his word vomit and laughed, “Bucky you don’t need to worry… Honestly, I am just as nervous as you,” 

Maybe it was because of the state Bucky was currently in, maybe it was because of something completely unrelated, but it made you feel brave enough to admit more than what you would’ve ever imagined. Bucky somehow willed himself into eating his sandwich, stopping every once in a while to blurt out a random compliment about you, the food, your apartment, anything. He even complimented how adorable it was that your mattress was on the floor, saying it just made everything feel so much comfier and he wished his apartment was like this. You took the comments in stride on the outside, though on the inside you were dying out of embarrassment. No one had ever said such nice things about you, and to the volume that Bucky was going, even if it was against his will, it still shocked you a bit.

By the time you were both done eating, the effects of the smoke seemed to slow down a bit, which allowed the nervous man beside you to withhold all of his thoughts, though it did keep him from lying still. As you stood to clean up the plates and napkins used during lunch, Bucky mimicked you, following you to the kitchen. 

“Today was really nice Bucky...Thank you for coming over,” you smile up at the tall man beside you and try not to swoon when he returns the warm smile.

There wasn’t a beat of hesitation before Bucky responded, “It was my pleasure, sweetheart,”

The term of endearment had your face aflame, something that has become a recurring struggle whenever you were around Bucky and his stupid compliments that always got to you. 

“Ya know, you’re quite the sweet talker when there’s nothing holding you back,” you tease playfully, making Bucky let out a quick bark of laughter. 

“Was I not a sweet talker before? I must have had some kinda skill since ya let me spend the whole day here,” a sly smirk is pulling at the corners of his lips as Bucky leans down closer to you in a mocking way.

You roll your eyes and put a hand to his shoulder, effectively pushing him away and giving yourself some much needed space. If you didn’t breathe properly soon, you were gonna pass out.

Bucky stayed at your place for a bit longer until he got a text from Sam saying that Sibi was getting anxious and that she missed him. You couldn’t help the grin that made its way onto your face when he explained why he had to leave, thinking it was absolutely adorable that Bucky was the only one who was able to calm that gigantic wolf. When it was time for him to go, it became a waiting game of who was going to initiate the final goodbye. 

Standing by your front door, leaning on the trim, you stared into the piercing blue eyes of the man opposite of you, completely unsure of what to say. In all honesty, you didn’t think it’d go this well. For Bucky to spend the entire day cramped up in your apartment with you, eating snacks and joking around as if you had known each other for years… It shocked you a bit when you truly thought about it. 

Bucky sighed, leaning against the opposite frame of the door as he stared back down at you, “So…” a nervous hand came up to subconsciously tangle into the hairs on the nape of his neck, the Truth Be Told must be wearing off, “I um… Today was really great,”

You nod your head in agreement, “Yeah it uh-it was,” your fingers begin to tangle and pull at each other. 

“Do you...Maybe wanna...Do it again? Soon?” he mumbles out, breaking eye contact as he begins to focus on his shoes. 

A little pinch to the back of your hand ensures that what you just heard was real and you nod, “yes, that’d be awesome! I um… Whenever you’re free of course,” 

Y/n and Tin Man sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

You quickly turn around to see Calcifer prancing in a circle in the middle of your apartment, a sly grin on his face. 

Gods what are you Five? Shut up you stupid fox! I’m gonna throw you off the balcony!

“Doll? You okay?” Bucky chuckles lightly as he sees your face scrunched up into a cute little scowl that makes him want to squish your face between his hands. 

Calcifer's annoying cackles were heard echoing in your apartment as you turned back around to face Bucky, “Yeah, yeah no I’m good… You were saying?” 

“Just that I was free on Thursday, if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me… But it’s really no big deal if you don’t want to, I would understa-” “No! Er-I mean yes! Yes. I would love to get coffee with you on Thursday,” You cringe at your awkward response and bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself from screaming in embarrassment. 

The bright smile on Bucky’s face grounds you a little bit and gives you the courage to meet his pretty blue irises, “So Doll, I uh was thinking-” Before he can finish his thought, Bucky’s phone pings loudly, making you jump a little, “Sorry” He murmurs.

Snatching it from the pocket of his jeans, Bucky takes a look then immediately lets out a quiet sigh, “That’s Sam, I really gotta go,” 

Trying not to let the disappointment show, you nod your head and straighten up, silently wishing he could stay longer, “Okay...Um I’ll see you on Thursday then…” 

Bucky’s head tilts to the left as he considers your shy demeanor and he can’t help but reach out with his right hand and lightly grasps yours, “I’ll see you on Thursday, pretty girl,” 

You suck in a breath, feeling Bucky lightly tug on your hand and willingly following his lead. Taking a tiny step forward, which was really all you could take with how close the two of you were all ready, the breath your holding tightens in your chest as Bucky leans down closer to you. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek, the brush of his long eyelashes ghosting over your temples, and the light squeeze on your wrist from his large hand. Bucky’s lips were soft as they pressed against the corner of your mouth in a light kiss that made you feel like you were in the clouds.

It didn’t last as long as you’d like and once he pulled away, you were able to let out the painful breath that stayed in your lungs for way too long. Bucky gave a quick wave before backing up a few paces, turning around, and walked the rest of the way down the hall. Leaving you to stand there breathless with the lingering feeling of his soft touches. 

“You two are gross,” The floaty feeling that had fallen over you evaporated as you heard the familiar’s voice from behind you. 

“I’m gonna hit you so hard,” You yell over your shoulder, turning around and slamming the door behind you. You pick up a slipper by your door and make your way over to the cackling fox. 

“W-wait wait! OW” 

“Stupid fox”

✸ ✴ ✦ 

-3 Months Later-

“Steve c’mon, stop interrogating my girl and come help set the tent up!” Steve turns his attention from you to his best friend, a smile on his face as he gets up to help Bucky set up the large canvas tent. 

“We will continue this later,” the blonde says pointedly before leaving you by yourself at the wooden picnic table. 

It had only been a little over three months since you had met Bucky Barnes, exactly two since he had worked up the courage to officially ask you to be “his girl” as he put it, and two hours since you had properly met Steven Rogers. How you had gone so long without meeting Bucky’s platonic other half was beyond you, but apparently the guy was a busy bee, and since your little potion shop out of your apartment had taken off, you didn’t exactly have much free time on your hands either. Fortunately, with a little luck and a lot of asking around for favors and covers for work, You, Bucky, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vis, and all of your respective animals were able to take a long weekend to go camping. 

“Are you guys ready to eat? These sandwiches won’t keep for much longer,” Wanda stands up from the green metal cooler, hands full of deli sandwiches that she had made for the trip. 

A chorus of agreeance sounded across the cozy little site you had booked as you all gathered around the redhead. Bucky came up beside you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“You excited for the weekend, doll?” he murmurs into your hair sweetly before placing a few more kisses there. 

You laugh lightly at his endearing behavior and smile up at him, “Of course I am Buck. I may never get the chance to spend this much time outside of my apartment again,” you joke, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss your boyfriend on the sharp line of his jaw. 

After everyone had gotten a sandwich, along with whatever they wanted to drink or eat with it, you all squeezed onto the benches of the picnic table and began to chow down. Everyone talked animatedly about what the plans were for the rest of the weekend. Swimming, fishing, “Building a bomb ass fire” as Sam gracefully put it, all of it sounded like a blast to you. If you were being honest, you were just excited to be out of your apartment for more than a few hours at a time. 

“So, you’re a potion maker huh?” Steve asks, mouth half full of potato chips. 

Bucky lets out a groan and rolls his eyes, “Stevie let the girl breathe for fucks sake,” 

The group laughs at Bucky’s annoyance, but then looks at you, “Well, uh yeah… I um was taught at a young age, so it’s something I’m really good at and I know it’s not the best job or anything-” ''It’s an awesome job, kid. I think you’re doing real good. Our own little entrepreneurial witch!” Sam interrupts your babbling, a bright smile on his face as he pats your back just a little too forcefully.

“I mean… I’m not a witch so I obviously don’t really get it like everyone else does, but you seem to be doing really well,” Steve assures you, sending a sense of pride into your chest. 

You had managed to impress Steve Rogers… Not bad, Y/n.

The guy is actin’ like he’s Tin Man's father… The hell is that about?

You turn your head over to where Calcifer is curled up on a dark blue camping chair, bright yellow eyes trained on the blonde man who was still stuffing his mouth with food. 

Calcifer they’ve been friends for ages, it’s normal.

The fox lets out a quiet snuff in response before getting up from the chair and trotting over to the table. 

“Cal do you want some of my turkey?” Bucky asks, taking a few pieces of turkey from his sandwich and setting it beside him on the table. 

Calcifer doesn’t answer, just hops up on the bench and silently eats the portion of meat. It’s taken a while for Calcifer to warm up to Bucky… And though progress if few and far between, the two have definitely gotten closer in the past couple of weeks. The biggest issue at first was how crazy Sibi acted around other familiars, but after a while and a good amount of training from you and Bucky, the hyperactive wolf finally settled and was on track to be a wonderful helper for her witch in training. 

“So… Do you guys have any plans of moving in together soon?” Wanda hesitates as she not so sneakily takes a chip from Vis’s plate. 

You and Bucky look to each other for only a moment before responding, “We’ve been looking at places to go. It’s hard cause we wanna stay in Adelaide but without buyin’ a whole house, there aren’t many options for apartments,” Bucky explains, a small shrug to his shoulders. 

“And there’s no way all four of us could fit in my apartment,” you add, copying Bucky’s shrug. 

Neither of you were in too much of a hurry to find a place of your own, as you were both content in the homes you were in now. The idea of living with Bucky was quite appealing but you knew the more realistic thing to do would be to wait, save, and research to make sure you both lived in a comfortable environment. 

“You guys are so cute it makes me wanna die! Who knew you’d be the ultimate witchy power couple?” Wanda’s swooning caused you to laugh a little as Vision looked at her with mock hurt in his eyes as if to say ‘what are we then?’

Before anyone had a chance to add on, an unexpected voice responded, “I did,” 

Your laughter immediately ceased and your attention snapped over to the other side of Bucky’s large frame. Calcifer sat proudly on his haunches as he gazed back at your shocked face. 

“W-what do you mean you knew?” Bucky stuttered, equally as shocked as you were. 

“I just knew. From the first day you guys met, it was obvious it was that true love bullshit you humans talk about,” the fox brushes off both yours and Bucky’s shock as if it was nothing. 

The rest of the group laughs as the pair of you stutter out broken objections to Calcifer’s claim, “A-are you kidding me Cal? That stuff is like… a myth or something,” 

“Yeah, I mean I’m in love with Y/n n’ all but-” “You’re in love with me?” 

All of the banter around the table halts as five pairs of eyes stare at a now tomato faced Bucky Barnes. “U-um, yes. Yeah-I um, yeah I’m in love with you…” Bucky’s voice is quiet and you’re not sure if he actually said what you heard, but that thought is soon wiped from your mind as an eruption of cheers sounds from your friends. 

A grin makes its way onto your face as you stare up at those pretty blue eyes that you really never got tired of looking at, and you can’t help but bring your hand up to run along the stubble of Bucky’s jaw, “I’m in love with you, Buck” 

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and immediately leans down to press his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, both of his large hands framing each side of your face to pull you closer to him. 

“Told ya so” 

“Shut up you stupid fox!”

[chaoticchickadee]

Active Meditation

"Deep in her thoughts, Ahsoka almost didn’t see the event board as she passed by it. Most of the flyers were uninteresting-- some speeders for sale, a lost tooka notice, and war effort posters covered a majority of the board, however there was one advertisement in the corner that caught her eye. Free Beginner’s Pottery Class it read, in bold lettering at the top."

Or, Ahsoka discovers a new hobby after seeking help from Obi-Wan.

Read it here on AO3 

Like her master, Ahsoka had always had a hard time meditating. She really tried, but especially after experiencing the “hurry up and wait” lifestyle necessary in the war, she found it difficult to just sit still and calm her mind. While Anakin was visiting Padme on Senatorial duty, she was using some of her precious alone time to practice meditation techniques, but it still didn’t come any easier to her. Sighing, Ahsoka flopped onto her back and tried to think of a solution. She knew if she went to Anakin with her troubles, he would understand, but he wouldn't be able to help her with this. Master Obi-Wan always had sage advice to offer when she asked, but the thought of revealing her vulnerability made her hesitate to reach out. However, Ahsoka couldn’t recall ever feeling judgment or disappointment when confiding him, so she reconsidered the option. Deciding that despite her fear of her grandmaster’s disappointment, he would be the most helpful for finding a solution. She slowly got up from the floor and headed for Obi-Wan’s quarters.

Once outside of Obi-Wan’s door, she raised her hand to knock, but paused right before her fist made contact. Guilt and trepidation settled in her gut and almost made her turn around and go back to her rooms. She swallowed and finally knocked, determined to go through with her plan. For a moment, she worried Obi-Wan was out, but then his door opened and Ahsoka was blinded by his bright, cheery smile. “Ahsoka! What a wonderful surprise! Please, come in, I’ll make some tea.” Ahsoka flashed him a tight smile and followed him into his small common area. “Is there something wrong, padawan?” Obi-Wan asked as he puttered about in the kitchenette. “Well, I was hoping that you might be able to help me with something. I’ve been having a really hard time meditating, and I can tell it's starting to affect me. No matter what I do, I just can’t get my mind to settle. Do you have any advice?” Ahsoka asked, nervously trailing off at the end. Obi-Wan hummed as he brought two steaming mugs into the common area, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Well, from what I remember with Anakin, he always seemed to do better when he had something to pour his excess energy into. It’s a little trick called ‘active meditation.’ Sometimes focusing the mind on an activity is what is needed to bring clarity. You could try finding a small, repetitive task that you enjoy to do while you meditate. I bought Anakin a beginner’s droid-building kit and it worked wonders. Not so challenging that it would take all of his concentration, but enough that he would have something to center himself. You could try something like drawing, or dance? Whatever feels right to you.”

Anakin had never told her about that, but after witnessing his restless energy over the course of her apprenticeship, Ahsoka supposed it made sense. She took a sip of her tea as she mulled over Obi-Wan’s advice. Ahsoka wasn’t totally convinced that it would work, but ultimately decided that, out of respect and trust in Obi-Wan, she would at least try it. “I don’t really know what I would do, but I guess I could try it, Master. I’ve never heard of this before, does it really work? Is it--” she paused, searching for the right word, “-- allowed? ” Obi-Wan smiled fondly, patient and understanding as he answered her questions. “Oh yes, in fact many knights and masters practice both active and traditional meditation, depending on their current needs and state of mind. Many practice katas, but others have found the arts conducive to achieving peace and mindfulness. I--” He was interrupted by the shrill beeping of his comm on the other side of the room. Obi-Wan excused himself for a moment and went to check the message, shoulders sagging as he read it. “I’m afraid an emergency meeting has been called by the council, I have to go. You’re a bright young woman, I’m sure you’ll find an activity that feels right. Please don’t hesitate to come to me if you have any trouble.” Ahsoka nodded and followed him out the door. They parted ways down the corridor, and Ahsoka changed course from her quarters toward the entrance to the temple, hoping a walk would help clear her head.

Ahsoka strolled through the streets of Coruscant, contemplating her grandmaster’s words. She did always excel when working with her hands. Learning mechanics and ship repair with Anakin had been easy, her deft fingers learning the intricacies of the movements with ease. The more she thought about it, the more Obi-Wan’s advice made sense to her. He’d clearly only wanted to help her, and his voice had held none of the judgement and disappointment she had feared when she first knocked on his door. If her grandmaster thought this… “active meditation” would help, then she would give it her best try.

She knew some of the clones had taken up a form of weaving, making small accessories like socks and helmet liners with just a couple of sticks and some yarn. When she’d asked about it, they’d told Ahsoka it relaxed them and that it was the process that was important, the finished product was just a bonus. It certainly had an appeal, but Ahsoka couldn’t see herself finding much enjoyment out of fiddling with some sticks and string. Her thoughts drifted to her master, who seemed to always be in reach of some half-finished mechanical heap. Often during long, boring meetings she had noticed him quietly building and taking apart small mechanical components. Ahsoka enjoyed mechanics plenty, but a lot of her duties in the GAR involved ship and droid repair, and she wanted her meditation to be an escape from her day-to-day life, not really an extension of it.

Deep in her thoughts, Ahsoka almost didn’t see the event board as she passed by it. Most of the flyers were uninteresting-- some speeders for sale, a lost tooka notice, and war effort posters covered a majority of the board, however there was one advertisement in the corner that caught her eye. Free Beginner’s Pottery Class  it read, in bold lettering at the top. On the bottom of the page was a comm frequency and information on where and when the class would be held. Memories of wandering the temple halls as a youngling, soaking up the beautiful art and artifacts on display quickly came to the forefront of her mind. She remembered staring in awe at the intricate designs and shapes of the vases and statues, amazed at the detail. Ahsoka checked the date on the flyer, smiling when she noticed that the class would be during her leave. Snapping a quick holo of the relevant information, she turned away from the event board and made her way back to the temple.

Senior padawans were allowed to come and go as they pleased during their free time, so while Ahsoka wasn’t  technically sneaking out, it sure did feel like she was. She opted to take one of the lesser known exits in the temple, the knowledge of which had been passed down in her lineage specifically for troublemaking. Logically, she knew no one would care if they found out where she was going, but Ahsoka wasn’t quite ready for anyone to know about her potential new hobby yet. Soon she reached the end of the corridor and stepped out into the cool Coruscant night.

The rec center hosting the pottery class was only a few blocks away from the temple, so it wasn’t long before Ahsoka entered the small, modest building. She followed the small signs indicating where to find room 137, where the class would be held. Pausing outside of the door, she could hear quiet, relaxed chatter coming from inside. Ahsoka gathered herself and opened the door, scanning the room for an open workbench. Ahsoka found one near the door and walked quickly over to it and waited patiently for the class to begin, hoping she looked more confident and at ease than she really felt.

A few minutes later, a friendly Rhodian woman made her way to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat. A hush fell over the students, eager to receive instruction. “Hello everyone, I see we have some new faces, welcome. I am Meeqkrik Vunu, your teacher for tonight. This week, we’ll be making mugs. They are pretty easy to do, a perfect opportunity to get creative with your design. Your work tables are already cleaned and set up for you, so go ahead and grab some clay from the cabinet to begin.” Meeqkrik’s soft voice instantly put Ahsoka at ease. She reminded her of the Creche Masters at the Jedi temple-- approachable, understanding, and patient, genuinely happy to be here teaching her students. Ahsoka followed the others to an open cabinet on the left wall of the room and scooped up a handful of clay. Once everyone had their clay and settled back at their work benches, Meeqkrik began her instructions. The soothing cadence of her words helped Ahsoka relax, and soon she found herself enjoying the process. It was easy to get creative and let loose in the calm atmosphere of the little classroom. As her hands performed the small, repetitive tasks, Ahsoka’s thoughts flowed freely and she let them go into Force with an ease she hadn’t had since she was a youngling. Smiling to herself, Ahsoka realized that once again, Master Obi-Wan’s advice had been spot-on.

Once she had the basic structure of the mug done, Ahsoka sat back and tried to come up with how she wanted to design the mug. She looked around the room, analyzing what her peers had chosen to do with their mugs. Most were carving small motifs on the side, some abstract, some familiar shapes, like the tooka the young human in front of her chose. A twi’lek towards the front of the room had made the body of his mug mimic a tree trunk and shaped the handle to look like a leaf, which Ahsoka thought was pretty cool. The unique design of the twi’lek’s mug gave Ahsoka an idea, and she quickly turned to work on her mug with renewed vigor.

An hour or so later, Ahsoka gingerly carried her mug to the front of the room where Meeqkrik was patiently waiting for their finished pieces. “Ah, an ambitious creation. Very well done, miss…?” “Oh, Ahsoka is fine Ms. Vunu, thank you. Where should I put it?” Ahsoka blushed at the compliment. “Just find an empty spot here in the kiln. We’ll have a painting session on Taungsday if you can make it.” Meeqkrik answered, gesturing to the large oven-like structure in the corner of the room. Ahsoka nodded her thanks, and carefully set her mug on the tray inside of the kiln. She then headed back to the temple, excited to finish her project on Taungsday.

The next morning, Obi-Wan joined her for breakfast in the cafeteria. “Good morning, Ahsoka. Have you had a chance to try active meditation yet?” he asked. She grinned, “Actually, I have. The rec center hosts free pottery classes, I went to one last night. It really helped, thank you. The creative outlet really was perfect for sorting through my thoughts” “That’s wonderful, Ahsoka. I’m glad it helped. What did you learn in the class?” Ahsoka could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke, and she told him about her exciting night out.

Ahsoka counted down the hours until she could return to the rec center, eager to paint her little mug. When Taungday evening finally came, she raced out the temple entrance, a stark contrast to her exit just a few days prior. She couldn’t quite hide the smile that crept up on her face when the rec center was in view, and quickly made her way back to room 137. Meeqkrik had their mugs on the counter up front, and a few other students were already working on theirs. “Good evening Ahsoka, welcome back. Your mug is here on the left, and the paints are over in the cabinet next to the clay. Take all of the colors and time you need, we have the room until closing.” Meeqkrik said quietly, and Ahsoka thanked her and went to gather her paint. She grabbed black, gray, blue, and a dash of red, then brought them to the nearest bench and set to work. It took Ahsoka almost until closing to finish painting, the finer details of her design taking patience she didn’t know she still had. When she was done, she brought it back to the kildn one last time to set the paint. Meeqkrik assured her she could swing by to pick it up at any time that ten-day, and soon Ahsoka was walking back to the temple, enjoying the brisk Coruscant night.

While Anakin was at the Senate building again, Ahsoka left to pick up her mug. It’s unique and familiar shape made it easy to pick out on the table set out for the pottery class. She gingerly secured it in the satchel she brought with her and sped back to the temple, hoping to make it there before her Master was due back. Relieved when she didn’t see his speeder parked outside, Ahsoka scurried back to their rooms. She made it just a few moments before she heard Anakin’s boisterous voice outside, most likely continuing his debate with Knight Secura about who had the better master. The door clicked open and Ahsoka heard Anakin step into the room. She tried not to fidget where she sat on the battered but comfortable couch, her excitement palpable. Anakin finally noticed her as he walked into the room. ”Hey Snips, do anything fun while I was out?” he asked cheerily. Ahsoka beamed, “Actually, yeah. I was having some trouble meditating, so I asked Master Obi-Wan for advice. He suggested I try something called ‘active meditation,’ and it worked! I took a free pottery class over at the rec center, and I made this!” she said, brandishing the mug from her bag. “Active meditation, huh? Well I’m glad it helped. You did a good job with the mug, the resemblance is uncanny.” he chuckled. Indeed, it was. Ahsoka had painstakingly painted every detail she could of their favorite astromech, down to the mismatching panels just above the right strut. “Thanks, Skyguy. I figured, since Rex keeps stealing your favorite mug by accident, you could use this one instead. It certainly can’t be mistaken for anyone else’s.” Anakin gently took the mug, looking it over with the biggest smile she had ever seen. “I love it. You’re the best padawan I could ever ask for.” He set his present down on the end table and swept her up in a bone-crushing hug, which Ahsoka enthusiastically returned. “Thanks, Master. I love you too.”

[throughyanderewindow]

Nothing Else Matters (4/?)

Pairing: Yandere Bucky Barnes x Yandere  Fem!Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, General Yandere Stuff, Bucky’s Not a Big Fan of Bucky, Some Bad Words

A/N: Now we enter the section where Window (that’s me) tries to get through the plot of a movie without just quoting/recapping it. She does ok. 

Formatting is a bit weird on Tumblr so I got a second divider for in the text instead of just beginning and end, might go back and add it to previous chapters later idk.

Life quickly fell into a pleasantly domestic routine, on good days at least. The good days were full of soft kisses and easy conversation (though you found yourself doing most of the speaking). Bad days on the other hand were when Bucky would just shut down. He wouldn't speak, he'd barely react to anything you'd do and getting him to eat was always a challenge. You were still happy of course, things could be difficult but fundamentally you still had what you'd always wanted, you just wished you could be more of a help to him. 

Bucky on the other hand was filled with self-loathing for the way he made you live. You had told him you loved him for who he was now but Bucky knew better. You had dreamed of the man from the history books, a brave, charming, hero with an easy smile and even easier confidence; How could you ever be happy with the broken excuse for a man wearing his face? Everything in him screamed that he had to make you leave, that you deserved better and if you couldn't see that he'd have to force the issue. But every time he tried to act on those feelings, tried to force you out of his life, his throat would close and his body felt like it was made of lead. So he remained stuck, hating himself more every day he let you stay and yet filled with an overwhelming fear at the thought of letting you go.

The pair of you might have spent forever in that tempestuous limbo had it not been for the newspaper. It had started out as a good day, the weather was nice enough and Bucky had taken you with him to get some things. He didn't really like leaving you alone if he could help it, even though things had been quiet for quite some time he never stopped feeling on edge. That alertness is probably why he noticed the man watching him. Before Bucky could question him the man bolted, leaving a newspaper behind. You hadn't picked up very much Romanian but the title had enough English to get the gist: Winter Soldier, Bombardment, Vienna this was very bad.

"We have to go, right now." Bucky grabbed your wrist and began back towards the apartment as quickly as you could without drawing more attention. The place wasn't empty when you arrived. You were surprised to see Steve Rogers but he seemed much more surprised to see you.

"Are you a civilian?" You nodded at that. "This is not good." He replied. He turned to Bucky then "Some very dangerous people are coming here, right now. If you care about her life you need to get her to leave."

The familiar fear rose in Bucky at those words, he dug his fingernails into his right palm before grabbing you by the shoulder. "You need to run."You weren't exactly thrilled with this plan "But what about y-"You weren't exactly thrilled with this plan "But what about y-"

You weren't exactly thrilled with this plan "But what about y-"

He cut you off "If I try to look after us both, we'll both die. You have to go."

You knew he was right but it didn't make it easy. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before rushing outside. The 'dangerous people' must have been closer than expected though as you barely made it half a block before being tackled to the ground.

After spending about an hour in some kind of prison car you were told you weren't going to be hurt but they would like to ask you some questions later. You internally rolled your eyes at that. You weren't going to tell them a thing but these were clearly not the guys in charge and if you were going to tell someone to go fuck themselves might as well wait for the bigwigs right?

They certainly gave you a lot of time to think though, your mind began to wander. You wondered, not for the first time, if there was some kind of gymnast assassin course you could have invested your time into instead of history classes; if there was though it probably wasn't just advertised to anyone. Besides how could you have known things would be this action filled? You were sure if you consulted some kind of 'People In Love With World War Two Veterans' they would have thought history was a fine choice. Although if you met them in the current day they'd probably all be in their 90s and would wonder why you were so young. 'Oh, my boyfriend? No, he's not way older than me, he just spent a lot of time frozen. No, he's not the guy from World War Two who very famously spent a bunch of time frozen but I understand the confusion. Wait, you're kicking me out of the club? But why?' 

Your daydream was interrupted when the car began to move. "Wait, where are we going?" you asked the driver.

"Airport." he replied with a thick German accent.

"Why?"

"You may be important in what comes next."

The trip to Berlin was similarly uneventful. You'd never been arrested before but would not have previously guessed it involved so much waiting and intense boredom. The only thing you were looking forward to was the chance to tell a person who had apparently been waiting several hours for your arrival where they could stick their questions.

After landing there was a mercifully short car ride and then finally, finally you were put in an interrogation room where you were greeted by a clean cut, friendly faced man.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm Agent Norris. Can you confirm for me that this is you?"

He put a file on the table. Flipping it open the first page was information on you, your full name across the top followed by your passport photo. "Yes, this is me." you told him. It was clear he already knew that but it was probably some psyche out trick you didn't understand.

"Let's cut to the chase," Norris began "we know you've spent a lot of time with Mr. Barnes and I'd like to ask some questions about that." 

"Well that is a problem because I'm not telling you a damn thing." You told him while giving him a faux-friendly smile.

"Listen, we can protect you from him. He kidnapped you,didn't he? Did he say he'd hurt you if you talked about it?" Norris asked, giving his best sympathetic look.

You laughed a bit at that."Kidnapped me? You think he kidnapped me? I went with him because I wanted to, I'd follow him anywhere." That drew an interesting face from the agent.

"All right, maybe you believe that now but the evidence suggests otherwise. You disappeared right before getting a degree that everyone I've spoken to agrees you were passionate about. You didn't say anything to your parents, who filed a missing person report regarding you about two weeks after your disappearance. I see an intelligent, talented woman with a bright future here." He poked your file. "Not someone who'd leave it all behind for a man she didn't know."

"Oh fuck, my parents think I'm dead! I'm going to need to get them an apology gift basket later. As for the rest of it though: go back to those people in my life, tell them who I left with and they'll all tell you this is in character for me. The degree is a means to an end, the only thing I've ever cared about is Bucky Barnes. You want information on him? You can pry it from my cold, dead hands." You hissed.

"Interesting." Norris replied, he paused to sip his coffee but you thought it was probably just as much for dramatic effect. "He's here you know. Barnes is here and he hasn't asked about you at all." The look he gave you was a bit more mocking than was probably advised in the interrogation handbook. "I don't think he cares about you nearly as much as you care about him."

"That's not true!" You yelled at him. "You don't know him at all!"

Before Norris could reply the door was thrown open, bringing in sounds of struggle from outside the room. "Norris it's the Soldier, we need all hands on deck!" another agent shouted. Norris jumped to his feet.

"If you leave this room you'll be shot!" He shouted over his shoulder as he took off running after the other agent, barely stopping to lock the door with a code. He probably expected his threat to at least give you a moment's pause but the second he was out of sight you lunged for the door; Now you just had to get it open.

Norris has used a code to activate an electronic lock but in his rush had forgot to also use the low-tech lock. If you could find some way to shut off the system-

As if hearing your thoughts the power went out, letting you swing the door open. For a half-second Norris' words echoed in your mind; But all you cared about was leaving this damn place and catching up with Bucky, wherever he was going. If getting shot was the risk you had to take so be it.

Taglist is a separate post because Tumblr is a delight.

dividers by writeyourmindaway

[mendesficsxbombay]

send noods (II) | s.m

part 1 here 

only took me about 8 years to complete this haha (more like 2 months but you get it) this is the longest fic I have written so far (over 6K what it do baby!!) I hope you like it!

Shawn silently shuts the door to her room after making sure she’s safely fallen asleep, well fed and high on “wormies” (Stomach worm medicines. Zahra Ameen shortens things as she likes to, and you are expected to accept that.) He hadn’t bothered a lot with his phone since he got here, so when he pulls out his phone to finally check it, he’s not surprised to see the flood of notifications. The only people who really needed to know where he was were his mom, Zahra, and Zachary, his roommate. “Zach” for short, “whiteboy supreme” for Zahra. 

His fingers danced across the screen typing back replies to each of his project partners for their assignments due in the following weeks. She really couldn’t have chosen a worse time to fall sick because their mid terms were around the corner, a truck load of assignments lined up for both of them, and he’s thinking of ways he can probably do some of her stuff so she has lesser work to get back to when she recovers. Recovers, he thinks to himself as his mom’s words ring through his head. “She has a bug, baby, she’s not diseased, and she’s a strong girl and I need you to be a strong boy right now.” He silently huffs to himself because what does his mom know anyway? (everything.) He decides to quickly dash out and grab his laptop and notes over to her room so he can stay with her and work at the same time. 

He shoots her roommate a text about going back to his dorm and runs out. Back in their room, Zach silently watches Shawn pack his things like he’s preparing for exile. His laptop, chargers, notes for 3 different courses, his nighttime face cream, a towel, a power bank, a sanitiser is tossed in and he’s pretty sure he sees a his family photo thrown in somewhere. 

“Got everything you need, Shawnie?” Zach walks over and throws his arms around him from the back, clutching him tight. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Shawn lets out a yelp as Zach becomes dead weight on him, forcing him to fall face first onto the bed, both now laying flat on what once was a pile of Shawn’s belongings. “Zach you know I can’t pack with you playing dead ON me, right? Move, jackass.”

Zach rolls over, propping his head up on one hand and continues to observe him, “you know I’ve noticed a few things about you, these days, Shawnie. And in my expert opinion I would like to diagnose you with a serious case of unrequited love, the subject in case being a girl currently diseased and lying in her bed high on wormies while you pack to move in with her-”

“I’m not moving in with her-”

“Interrupting is bad manners, you know? As I was saying, you are packing to move in with her, and I highly doubt she feels the exact same way about you, bro.”

“Okay, Zach. Get to the point, what do you mean, here?”

“See, I just don’t see her doing the same for you! If it weren’t for her staying over with you for your regularly scheduled, uh, activities, I would say that she wouldn’t come over at all! It’s always you going to her! Don’t you see that? It’s one sided!”

Shawn was still staring at him with a blank expression, still not sure where this whole conversation was going. “Zach, I need you to try and make more sense. I know it’s hard, but please.”

“Shawn, Zahra only has to breathe in your direction for you to be all heart eyes for her, like someone just says her name and you start blushing,” and unfortunately for him, he did start blushing again, “SEE? Shawn, full offense, I think you’re whipped trash and she’s just - not. I don’t think she feels as much as you do, and it’s really cute that you want to wait hand and foot on her, but it’s not reciprocated!”

Shawn looks away, unsure of how to tell him that it is, in fact reciprocated. They had talked their feelings out when they went home for winter break, made love till they couldn’t anymore and then talked some more and fucked some more. It was taken care of, Zahra Ameen was in love with him, too and they weren’t even dating yet. 

“It is, actually,” Shawn starts.

“It’s what?”

“Reciprocated.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When we we went back home.”

“She told you she likes you?”

“She told me she loves me.”

“She told you she loves you?”

“Yes.”

Both of them took a moment to just look at each other, Zach getting pensive, until he flung a deodorant at him. “She told you she loves you A MONTH ago and you didn’t tell me?”

Shawn ducks just in time, the bottle landing somewhere behind him. “We’re barely learning to say it ourselves, Zach, it’s not exactly meant to be advertised right now,” he was exasperated, he’d been through the same cycle with his friends before, as had she with hers. People didn’t understand their dynamic, and they didn’t expect them to. They’d grown from being close to closer at their own pace and all while being exclusive without even trying, they were good at being them and there wasn’t ever a time they needed validation from anyone else. “And even if we did you guys would start grilling us for not dating and being in love, why am I meant to-”

“Hey, hey Shawnie listen,” Zach steadies him by holding his shoulders down, “I’m happy for you, bro, if you’re happy with her then I’m happy too, I was only worried because you were all in, you know? And I don’t want to see you get hurt man, you know what I was like after Rachel last year.”

“You saw Rachel for 3 days and decided you were in love with her without talking to her and she’d had a boyfriend for months before that, Zach I’m not sure how that counts as heartbreak…”

“What are you? The heartbreak police? I’m telling you, I was in a one sided relationship-”

“It was NOT a relationship, Za-”

“What did I tell you about not policing me, Shawn? Now, glad we decided to have this conversation, I’m glad both of you are equally whipped for each other, you need to pack up and get to her dorm before she wakes up or else - I don’t know man I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Shawn snickers lightly, taking in how Zach was actually disturbed at the thought of Zahra screaming at him for messing around with her a few weeks ago. Shawn and Zahra had a few ground rules. One of them being they never left the other sleeping in bed without telling them where they went - this way they never had to wake up alone, wondering where the other went. Waking up alone after not going to sleep alone was one of Zahra’s deepest fears, and she’d had a hard time communicating that to absolutely everyone except Shawn. She’d rambled on and on about the why and how before he simply said, “Don’t leave you alone in bed. Got it.” And so, a few weeks ago when Shawn went to shower and Zahra woke up without him, Zach told her he left for the day and didn’t want to wake her up. She was a second away from crying when Shawn came out of the shower and kissed her good morning. That was when she physically launched herself at Zach for making her believe he truly left her after she told him not to. 

Goes without saying that Zach had been afraid of messing with her, avoided her for a week straight right after the incident and promptly left the flat as soon as she came over all other times. Zach still grumbled as Shawn continued packing proceeding to catching him in a headlock and pressing down on the visible hickey she must’ve left on him the last time she came over. Shawn pushed him away whining about “how many times have I told you not to do that, you absolute fuck?” and received a loud, “if you’re so sensitive why don’t you ask her not to?”

And we all know that would never happen.

Another 10 minutes and Shawn had taken everything he thought he would need, Zach still not leaving his side.

“You got your dorm pass?”

“Yes”

“Library card?”

“Yes”

“Vitamins?”

“Yes”

“Condoms?”

“Ye- why would I need those? Are you out of-”

“You’re going to see the one person I know who loves the deed more that you do, just figured you need them at hand.”

“She’s practically an invalid right now, get your mind out of the gutter, Zachary”

“Hey I’m just saying I can’t take the responsibility of being a godfather anytime soon, bud.”

“Good thing you won’t be one, then.” Shawn pulled out his phone to check if she had woken up and texted him after seeing the sticky note he left on her bedside, but his heart stuttered a bit seeing her last texts to him.

Babiest to shawny boy : (3:11 pm): feeling icky tbh but i had a rly cute guy come over to nurse me back to life

Babiest : (3:11 pm):  he is the greatest souper on the world

Babiest : (3:11 pm): soup maker?

Babiest : (3:11 pm): might just fuck around and wife him up while you’re not watching. Love u 

Did anyone go over to her’s while he wasn’t there? Not to brag, but he’s makes the sickest soups he knows, how could someone except his mom and her mom possibly come close to the absolute delicacy that is his world famous noodle soup? Why would she want to wife- I mean, be with someone else when he exists? And they exchanged the L word pretty recently, too, or did she not mean it? Why would she say it if she did not mean it? And if he’s honest, she does deserve the world, and he’s willing and ready to give it to her but if she wants it from someone else, who was he to stop her? He would wish it was him though. It always felt like it was. 

He continued staring at the texts till Zach snapped him out of it, and he blinked away tears he didn’t know he had. “Hey, can you read these?”

He handed his phone over and continued pacing around the room, constantly running running his hands through his hair, biting his nails, just to have an outlet. Zach bit his lip reading the texts, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t there when this went down, how was he to know if she was talking about Shawn or someone else? 

“Bro, do you think there’s someone else?”

“I don’t know, I think…,” Shawn looked away, not wanting to cry when he doesn’t know anything for sure and definitely not wanting to do it in front of Zach because he was the easiest crier he knew. One person composing themselves is better than two of them losing it. The energy in the room had shifted in the matter of seconds. The airy, playful banter was gone as quick as it came, signs of possible heartache hanging over both of their heads now. Their friendship worked in funny ways, sometimes. Zach took on responsibility as quick as he could, and Shawn could let go of his voice of reason for Zach’s sake at any given point. If what both of them were thinking did turn out to be true, it would be the first time Shawn would have to wear his heart on his sleeve rather than the other way around. 

“You can say whatever you want, you know that Shawny,” he sighed, looking back down at the texts. “We don’t judge around here…”

Shawn didn’t face him for a bit. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to. He continued crossing the length of his room while Zach resumed his spot on the bed, watching him intently. A few more rounds and he came to halt abruptly in front of him, eyes red from not crying, it’s a thing that happened to him. He let out a sounded that felt something like the air was choked out of him and he’d been punched in the gut.

“She told me she loved me, Zach.” And Zach started crying, and Shawn was about to join in until his ring tone cut them off.

It was Zahra calling. 

__________________________

Zahra sighed for the third time in 5 minutes, she was having a hard time finding relevant information for Shawn’s next research paper. Her eyes were strained now and the pads of her fingers felt scratched into after working on her laptop’s touch pad for so long. Her hands uncovered her face and lay flat on the table in front of her as she leaned forward to stare at the screen as if that would make things fall in place together. She felt a finger link with her pinky, a soft, tired smile growing on her face as his thumb ran across the back of her hand. Shawn had a few nervous ticks, the easiest to ground him was through physical contact, easier so when she was around. Zahra flipped her hand over slowly, letting his fingers intertwine with hers, seeing him furrow his eyebrows over a particularly hard piece of writing and thinking of how quick the library matron would shoo them out of there if she just leaned over and gave him a few kisses, not many, just a few. She spared a glance around the relatively empty section they had found, and decided that loving on her boy for a bit was more important at the moment than having a secluded working environment. 

She leaned closer, pulling him in by the side of his face to pepper kisses across his temple down to his cheeks. She felt his cheeks grow into a smile under her lips, a soft, “I’m trying to concentrate, baby,” coming through. “You work too hard,” she mumbled, finally pulling his face her way and kissing him for real. He reacted naturally, pressing down on her chin so she’d let him kiss her as he pleased, rubbing his thumb across her cheeks now. 

It was her turn to smile as she felt his tongue pad across her lower lip, pulling away slightly to brush his nose against hers. Another Shawn and Zahra thing. She leaned back in, mirroring Shawn’s actions and swiping her tongue against his lip softly, keening as she heard him hum softly. He caught her chin again, but to lightly pull away this time.

“Control yourself, Ms. Ameen, we’re still in the library and your membership could be revoked if someone caught you engaging in such a lewd act,” he grinned lightly, pecking her one last time before getting back to work. 

“Lewd act? Really? As if this is the worst we’ve ever done,” he tries to shush her but she continues anyway, “Remember when we went behind the bleachers after your game last ye-”

“Shut up, Zahra, honestly,” it was his turn to blush furiously, “don’t you have a paper to finish?”

“Your paper, you mean?” She rolls her eyes at him and he’s endeared to no end, really. As she slips her hand back into his, laying her flat on the desk before her presumably to take a break, his heart feels slight pangs that turn to jabs till he thinks he probably cannot breathe anymore. The day he read the texts, he went over to her house anyway, and there’s a lot of things Shawn Mendes was capable of but staying away from Zahra Ameen was not one of them. So he’d gone over, hugged her and kissed her like he always did and promptly ignored her when she giddily asked him if he got her texts. 

Her face fell when he chose not to answer her, and she’s not used to not getting a reply from him so she pressed a bit more till he brought in the remaining soup for her to finish and go back to sleep. He knew they were coming to an end, sooner than he expected, and he actually didn’t expect this at all. An unfortunate part of him believed they were it, they were endgame,  they were each other’s “ult faves” as Zahra said. All good things come to an end, though, and as much as he wished it was him and her at the end, he couldn’t dream if holding her back from anything. Maybe a better love was in store for her, and the least he could do was let her have it, the most he could do was hold onto whatever they had until she told him the truth. 

He didn’t stop with the hand holding or the kisses or the I love you’s, and to his misery neither did she. If anything she became softer around him, killing him inside all while holding his hand. He thought it was just a way to make the blow softer, whenever the blow eventually comes. 

And now a week later as she held his hand under a desk in their university library, he wishes he had tried talking to her about it on the same day. It would spare him the pain of holding her hand and thinking it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do so, it was exhausting to constantly think of each time as their last. 

He looked up from their hands to see Amisha walking over, nudging Zahra to sit up and greet her classmate. She rubbed at her eyes, reminding him to get the mock papers he was supposed to refer to while writing his own. Shawn pulled away, grateful for the distance all of a sudden as he saw her get out of her seat for the first time in over 2 hours, hugging Amisha and catching up softly, keeping their voices to a whisper.

He thumbed through the piles of papers available to him, picking out a few randomly and signing in his name on the counter. At times he was grateful Zahra forced him to get a library card and then forced him to study with her endlessly because he had grown to love the place. As he walked back his tennis shoes made a light thwack sound against the marble of the surprisingly dead room, focusing back on Zahra. 

Amisha and Zahra had lots in common. They picked the same Majors, same Minors, happened to be the only two second year’s on the debate team and shared their heritage being two of the many Indian girls on campus. Amisha had also learned of how much Zahra loved their campus library, and made sure to her rounds each time she came in in hopes of running into her.

Zahra spoke animatedly about falling sick the previous week and as Amisha asked her if she’d started working on her own research papers due soon. “I have! I promise, just let me finish my boyfriend’s and I’ll get back to mine for reals,” the answer would’ve gone on for longer had they not heard a pile of something fall behind them, disturbing the silence around them. 

Shawn’s heart was in his mouth and his hands shook even after the papers slipped through. Boyfriend? Things had gotten to a point of Zahra having a boyfriend and she still let him kiss her?

“You okay, Bub?” Zahra rushed over, helping him get his precious mocks into one pile again and raising her brow when he didn’t reply, just stared at her dumbly. “Shawn?”

“Hey um, we have class beginning in 10 and the walk is usually takes us 15 so…” Zahra looked back at Amisha who looked ready to break into a sprint if she said the word. 

She nodded to the door and Amisha took the signal and left with her bookbag as Zahra frantically packed her own stuff, starting to throw instructions at Shawn for his remaining assignments, things like “I’ll email you the final design by tonight” and “we’ll finish your report writing by tomorrow” and “I’ll see how your business prof doesn’t give you the highest grade after seeing the model we’re working on, babe.”

dontcrydontcrydontcry he chanted in his mind, still not sure of what to tell her or how to react, the jabs felt in his heart again. She finally turned to him, cupping both his cheeks and pressing one long kiss to his lips, enough for him to make it through the day usually but right now, it didn’t feel like he’d make it through the next minute.

“We’re gonna crush this sem, baby,” she grinned, her eyes sparkling before she turned around and ran out after Amisha. He wasn’t sure if it was her leaving or the wind just not finding place in his lungs but his poor heart and his poor mind were barely hanging on by a thread. Thoughts of her consumed him within a second of her leaving, and his sanity seemed further and further away. He was used to feeling weak in the knees around her, but not so much in her absence.

_____________

Zach pulled his backpack up higher on his shoulder as he waited for his group to join him at the campus cafe he’d been waiting at for the past 10 minutes. His mind was working overtime as he didn’t know how he’d face Zahra while he knew how bad Shawn was taking the hit of their relationship. He hated the image of Shawn walking home with red rimmed eyes for the second time in the same week after he knew he met Zahra at the library. He didn’t have the heart to ask him the reason why because he already knew. 

Which is what brings him here, because he shared 2 classes with Zahra, and Shawn doesn’t. Zach was already nervous around her because she was at the top of most of her classes anyway, and she was in group project for this particular one. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to act like everything was fine between them, or between her and Shawn. From what he gathered from Shawn, she acted like everything was fuckin’ dandy. A part of him wanted to call her out, hurt her for hurting his best friend but a bigger part of him knew how that would affect Shawn. To him Zahra had hung the moon, and Zach would comply for his sake. Seeing her walk towards him with the rest of their group, he took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes, as if he was preparing for attack. He didn’t gain second place in his school’s acting competition to never put his skills to use. If she could pretend, he could pretend, too. 

___________

He couldn’t pretend for the life of him. It had been two hours and all he did was stare at her with a blank expression, he would give mono-syllabic answers each time someone asked for his inputs and he could see her grow uncomfortable under his stare over time. They had their books and papers piled onto the table along with their coffees and snacks, he couldn’t even finish half of his iced coffee and Zach loved iced coffee. 

In his mind he played a dramatic scene where he stood up and screamed “How could you?!” in her face before throwing all their books off the table and saying something more like “You should be ashamed of yourself, Zahra Ameen,” or “How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a cheater?” and storming out of the cafe but a) Zach had social anxiety and therefore hated being the centre of attention and b) their notes were expensive and he wasn’t about to throw them to the floor anytime soon. And he would very much like to not be banned from the only cafe they have on campus, thank you very much. 

So all that was left for him to do was stare, and hope to God that it was enough for her to own up to what she did. She was in the middle of showing the group designs she had worked on in the past, trying to gain inspirations for their coming submission and he visibly winced as he recognised two of those as work she’d done for Shawn in the past. She accidentally picked up the mug next to her own and took a sip, nearly spitting it out and saying the most pained, “Is that peppermint hot chocolate?” The group all burst into laughter as her distaste for the poor drink just grew bigger.  “Why are you guys laughing? It’s genuinely the worst thing ever!! What kind of sociopath drank good ol’ hot chocolate and thought, hmm, how can I make the best thing in the world taste bad?”

“It’s not even bad, it’s like the upgraded version of hot chocolate, Zahra, you just don’t have taste,” the girl next to her giggled. 

“God, you sound exactly like my boyfriend, you guys should start a cult,” she rolled her eyes, “And as much as I don’t support this agenda, he loves this disgraced drink from the place on 21st, if you ever want to try it out.”

Zach looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked like the life had been sucked out of him. His heart clenched and his hands shook. If this is how I’m feeling then what on earth is Shawn going through? He continues staring at her for just a second longer, mumbling the tiniest, lowest, “How could you, Zahra?” before he rushes to stuff his things into his bag, the group looking at him in his confusion. 

“Are you okay?” Of course she had to be the one to ask him that, that’s just how great his life is. 

“No - I mean, I have somewhere to be, bye,” and then he’s dashing out the door. He runs and runs, doesn’t stop until he reaches their dorm and barges inside their house. A few stray tears may or may not have fallen out in his state of frustration, and he sees Shawn by his desk and runs over and wraps his arms around him in the tightest hug he could muster. 

“I’m sorry, Shawn I’m so, so sorry you don’t deserve this,” he cries into his shoulder, “You deserve everything, bro, you deserve the world..”

Shawn was used to Zach crying at the smallest of things, he was an easy crier, that one. And yet he had never truly heard wails so heartbroken come from him, not even when Shawn made Zach watch The Notebook with him for the first time. He wraps his arms around Zach, trying to comfort him but to no avail, his cries growing deeper by the second. Shawn himself was spent, the past few days having taken a swing at his health, and this was the second day he had avoided the mirror. It was embarrassing how much he had let a girl  affect him but if he was being honest, he knew she was anything but. 

He shushed Zach again, now rubbing his back, telling him he couldn’t fix whatever it was that made him so sad if he didn’t talk to him at all. 

“It’s her, it’s Zahra she’s- she,” he could barely talk through his hiccups and Shawn’s heart broke at the mention of her all over again. He coaxed Zach into speaking more, “She does have a boyfriend, Shawn, she said it today, she said it in front of me like, she said her boyfriend loves some hot chocolate from the 21st street place and she - she knew I was right there in front of her, and she said it so easy, like she doesn’t even care, and why aren’t you saying anything?!”

What can I possibly say, he thought.

“It’s okay, buddy, she’s with someone else, that’s not the end of the world, is it?” he smiled weakly. It was though, he felt like his world was seconds away from burning every time he thought of her.

“But she’s - you - you love her, Shawn, and you’ve never loved like this before,” Zach cried out.

“I need you to calm down, first, Zachary,” he let out a dry laugh, ignoring his best friend’s protests, “She’s allowed to love someone else, buddy, I guess it wasn’t so requited after all… and if she’s happy with someone else… then I’m happy for her, I can’t be angry because she doesn’t love me back, that’s not fair on her or on me,” he sniffled a bit, looking away and ignoring the burn in his eyes, “I guess - I mean, I’ll always wish it was me and her at the end, you know? But you can’t fight for everything, that’s not how love works, it works when you’re at peace, and maybe I’m not at peace today or tomorrow but some day I will be…”

Zach watches his best friend struggle with his words, his emotions and mostly his love that he can’t contain no matter how much he tries. He can’t help but mumble back to him, “Shawn I know we’ve always been against physically abusing women but you remember Riya from freshman year? She won the Inter College women on women boxing championship this year, I can get her to rough Zahr-”

Shawn lets out the first laugh Zach has heard in days, smiling despite himself. “That won’t be necessary, we’re not sending someone to beat up the girl I still love.”

Shawn goes to get Zach some water now that he has finally calmed down with the crying and is now settling himself onto his bed when he hears a series of knocks on the door, a chill running down his spine when he realises only one person knew that pattern. Zach goes over to open the door before he can stop him. 

His face contorts almost immediately upon seeing Zahra, defence mode kicking in automatically. 

“Are you okay?” She starts, “You ran out of there like-”

“Shawn’s not here if you’re looking for him,” he snipes.

“Where is he?”

“He has a class right now.”

“Which one?”

“Integrated uh, Marketing.”

“Nice try, he had that class yesterday,” she shoves past him, entering their dorm and finding Shawn looking like a wounded puppy in the kitchen area. “Hi…” she says softly, careful to approach him. “You didn’t answer my calls or texts so I thought I’d come over to-“

“Now’s really not the time, Zahra, you should go,” he’d never asked her to leave, ever. And his heart broke as he saw her pretty face fall, the dull jabs in his heart making a return. 

“Oh, um,” she tried to find the correct thing to say to him, unsure of what she’d done wrong, “Is - are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“He said he doesn’t want to see you right now, Ameen,” Zach spits, moving to stand between the two of them, blocking Shawn protectively. 

Zahra’s heart fell to her stomach as she tried to remember what she could’ve done so bad that the whiteboy had to step in. 

“Okay, um, I’ll just leave this here then,” she put down the takeaway glass of peppermint hot chocolate that none of the boys had noticed till now, “Please drink it before it runs cold… and um, please call me?”

“You really have guts, huh,” Zach speaks up again, ignoring Shawn trying to hold him back. He sizes up Zahra, stepping closer to intimidate her, “You want to fool around with god knows who and still come around for him? I don’t know what made you think that this was ever okay-” but before he can complete himself Shawn puts a hand to his chest, pushing him away from her. 

“Remember what we said about scaring girls, Zachary,” Shawn keeps his voice low, “Let me handle this, please.”

Zach scoffs before heading to his room and slamming the door shut, and Shawn runs his hand down his face, preparing himself for the worse of this heartbreak. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on? I have no idea-“

“When were you going to tell me?” It was Shawn’s turn to be mad.

“About what?” Her confusion only grew by the second, both boys talking in riddles.

“About you fucking someone else, Zahra, about you having a boyfriend.”

“I’m not fu- I have only been with you, Shawn.”

“See? That’s what you want me to believe? Zahra, I loved you, I gave you everything I had, and it wasn’t enough for you I get it, there’s better guys out there, and,” he sighs in annoyance, blinking his tears away for the fifth time in a day, mad at himself for being so emotional, for loving her so much his voice coming out in whimpers, “the least you could’ve done was tell me, baby, I would’ve let you go the second you said you wanted out, what did I do to deserve this?”

Zahra’s eyes pricked with tears as she saw him struggle to get the words out, tears streaming down his face. She moved closer to him to wipe them away but he just moved further away from her again, not willing for her to help. 

“Baba, I don’t know what you’re talking about I - I haven’t, I don’t want anyone but you - I really don’t know what you’re talking about, how am I supposed to give you an answer?” She croaked out, throat going dry at the thought of him hurting because of her. 

“So you still want to act like you don’t know? Fine, I’ll tell you.” She winced as his voice grew louder, she’d never seen him like this before. “That day at the library? When you told Amisha you were there with your boyfriend? And when I came over to your house when you were sick and god, Zahra I made you soup from scratch and you had the audacity to say you had some boy come over to take care of you and you wanted to wife them up? Like what the fuck was that about? But I let it slide because I loved you Zahra, you’re my best friend the least you could’ve done was lessen the blow - oh and today? When you told your group including Zach about this boy of yours? Do you need more reminders? You’re one to talk about people who cheat but look at you now, huh? Or do you not count this as cheating because, in your words we’re not even dating, are we?”

It falls into place in her head before she can form words to get it out. He had it all so, so wrong. It hurt her that he bottled up his feelings so much that he thought she realistically liked someone who wasn’t him. 

“Shawn,” she started calmly, “that day at the library, whose project was I working on?”

“How does it matter?” He scoffs, turning away from her again. 

“It does, please, whose project was I working on?”

“Mine? But who el-”

“And today with Zach, I told them about the peppermint hot chocolate from the place at 21st… who took me there for the first time?”

“That fucking boyfriend of yours? How am I supposed to know?”

“You did,” she whispered, “and in that cup behind you is peppermint hot chocolate, because you’re the only person I know who loves it so much.” She wipes her tears away, moving to hand him the cup. “I told you it would run cold.” 

He had visibly calmed down, trying to take in what she was trying to tell him. “What about the day I came over when you were sick?”

“You’re the only one who would bring the soup and take care of me. You’ve always been the only one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t think I’d need to, to be honest. After coming back to college this time, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place, you know? Like we had fallen into place. I know it’s not something I’d discussed this with you, but I only love you, you know? How could I ever want someone else?”

He looked down in shame, thinking of the mess he’d created. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

“About what?”

“Being your boyfriend?”

She wiped her nose, laughing out fully before looking him in the eyes and lowering herself on one knee. “If that’s where we’re still at,” she grins at him, “Shawn Mendes, will you be my only boyfriend?”

taglist: @shawnwyr​ @mendesstories​ @lanallaa​ @sleepybesson​ @rulerofnocountry​

dm to be added or removed ♥️

[rivalsforlife]

I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE DOING COMMENTARY hope it's not too late to ask for The Scene at the end of chapter 5 of the catch up game?? if no one else has asked?

It is never too late to ask!! Genuinely you could probably ask me six months from now and I’ll ramble on about all this, I’m generally down to talk about my writing all the time. (And I’m actually a little surprised nobody asked about The Scene yet... oh well haha)

First though: have you seen this art yet? If you haven’t you should. It was going around twitter again lately and I love it a lot so I wanted to advertise it while I had the chance.

Anyways, keeping under a “keep reading” here:

So. The Scene. First I’ll present my notes from the outline when I was trying to figure out this fic:

Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

Somehow “kind of an awkward note” ended up being uhhh that!

Anyways before we get into this I want to say that I really did not think it would have that much of an emotional impact? I got a much bigger reaction than I thought and that’s around when people really started talking about it on the narumitsu discord and stuff, so I ended up for the rest of the week soooo stressed out that I’d accidentally gone in a completely different direction than I’d planned and set people’s expectations too high and they would be COMPLETELY DISAPPOINTED IN THE REST OF THE FIC but uh luckily that didn’t happen! I think. At least if anyone was super disappointed they didn’t tell me about it!

And it was probably partially that I am not very uhh good with emotions and also probably that I got pretty desensitized to my work but I genuinely did not think it was that bad until I saw Ro’s art and then went “ohhh suddenly I am consumed with so much guilt...” (and also doubted how in character this scene was. how can ANYONE say no to that face --)

Most critically though, this scene distracted everyone from whatever the hell was going on with the casefic earlier in the chapter, so overall I think it’s a success.

Sorry it’s taking a while to get to the actual scene, but I wrote a few drafts of this thing beforehand and modified it a lot trying to get it right. I needed it to be sufficiently dramatic but I didn’t want it to seem like... I was just adding it in there for extra conflict? Like you know sometimes you read stuff and you’re like “where the hell did this sudden argument come from” yeah. I wanted to avoid that if I could, so partially this was supported by the weight of chapter 4 to explain Phoenix’s reasons for the rejection and then chapter 6 is supposed to elaborate more, but I still needed this to stand fairly well on its own.

The overall theme of this chapter was “Opposites”, and again, here’s what I had in my fic notes:

I want to contrast how Phoenix sees Miles and how Miles sees Phoenix. Because they both kind of see each other as an amazing person while seeing themselves as failures. Maybe at the end Phoenix is kind of putting himself down and Miles argues about it and then they have a slight argument. Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

I couldn’t really find a way to integrate this conversation in naturally, so I could only get Phoenix’s perspective in there a little bit. Originally Miles’ confession wasn’t supposed to be planned, just a spur of the moment in the middle of an argument where Phoenix kind of goes “I don’t understand why you keep hanging out with me, why are you spending so much time with me, I’m not struggling, I don’t need you worrying about me” and Miles interrupts with a “Because I love you, you idiot!” ... But I couldn’t get that to work because the buildup into the argument felt too abrupt. 

Last little bit of something just before the argument (some of the dialogue here went into the chapter 4 dinner conversation instead):

Miles: (quietly) I’ve spent most of my life trying to climb higher in my career, in order to fight corruption as best I could. And I have, and every day my mission is growing closer to completion, or at least as much as it can. But after that… (staring at some kids’ toy) what’s left for me? I’ve taken a rather unconventional path through life. I’m starting to wonder about opportunities I’ve missed.

Phoenix: (jokingly) Is that some long-winded way of telling me you’re planning on settling down?

Miles: I’d never settle. But in some sense, I suppose so.

Phoenix: (stopping in his tracks) You’re kidding. L-Like, what, in a year or so I’m gonna walk in to your office one day and find you with a wife and kids?

Miles: (rolling his eyes) You do know that I’m gay, don’t you? And why would I keep them in my office? There’s no need to be so melodramatic, Wright.

Again couldn’t fit it in I just found it funny. ANYWAYS FINALLY MOVING AWAY FROM THE DRAFTS AND TO THE ACTUAL THING, I’ll skip ahead a bit to just before the confession:

“How long has it been since I came here?” 

“I dunno… since before I got my badge back, probably.”

“That sounds about right.” Edgeworth sighed and leaned against Phoenix’s desk. “I’ve barely gotten the chance to see you, since you got your badge back and I took my new position. I’ve missed going up against you in court.”

“I don’t,” Phoenix teased, slipping his case notes into his desk drawer. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You’re one to talk.” The corners of Edgeworth’s eyes crinkled as he looked over at him. “You can be so infuriating, but I do like working with you. I had fun today.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Fun? You?”

“I suppose age has softened me up.”

“I didn’t think anything could soften you up.”

“You’d be surprised. I often have fun when I’m with you. I always…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and gripping his elbow. “I’ve been… thinking, a bit. On our earlier conversation.”

So basically... Miles got preeetty close to confessing during their dinner in chapter 4, but kinda backed out at the last moment, and he’s been agonizing over this ever since. Because the way he interpreted their conversation was sort of “We both want to move forward into a relationship but don’t know how to take the steps to do so”, whereas Phoenix interpreted more as a consensus that “We could probably start a relationship and there are feelings there but it wouldn’t really work out so we just won’t ever talk about it”.

And Miles throughout this fic assumed that Phoenix has been in love with him for a while and only holding back for Miles’ own sake, and waiting for Miles to signal that he’s actually ready to move into a romantic relationship. ... Which is very much not the case. What makes today different though is that Miles got to watch Phoenix solve mysteries, and I’m of the opinion that Miles considers Phoenix at his most attractive when he is uncovering the truth!! so Miles pretty much just saw him solve this case and go “I must kiss this man on the lips Right Now” but thought he should clear some things up before he did that.

which is good because if he just walked up to Phoenix and kissed him without preamble I’m pretty sure Phoenix would have died, so.

Something imperceptibly changed in the atmosphere. It made Phoenix’s heart race faster in anticipation. “Oh? Which one?”

“The one we had during the last dinner we shared.”

“O-Oh.” That had been weeks ago. Surely Phoenix had forgotten something.

“Everything has changed so much, over the course of my career, between us.” Edgeworth’s eyes flickered up to him briefly before settling back down on the desk. “I’ve never been afraid of moving forward, but this, I want…” He exhaled, shakily. “Give me a minute. This is… difficult.”

Phoenix kind of... knows, subconsciously, where this is going, but he’s trying to deny it until the last minute because he’s very unprepared and has no idea how to deal with this... which will become very clear by the end of the scene.

Miles is tricky to write in a confession scene because he can be kind of weird with emotions? Sometimes he’ll give these Grand Speeches about how much That Man means to him but at the same time he struggled a lot with talking about his feelings during the trilogy and I think he’d still struggle with it now. Especially something as raw and vulnerable as a love confession.

And Miles is also someone who is, at least by the Investigations duology, determined to pursue what is Right and what is the Truth without any sort of hesitation. However pursuing Wright is different. (insert horrible forced laugh track)

“W-Well, don’t strain yourself,” Phoenix insisted. “We can talk another day. I-It’s getting late, after all, we should —”

“We should stop dancing around the issue.” Edgeworth’s eyes snapped up and locked with Phoenix’s, pinning him in place. “Don’t go easy on me now, of all times.”

oh man I have to admit I got really into Persona 5 Royal for like a few weeks around the time I was writing this and that “don’t go easy on me now of all times” is looosely inspired by a similar line in there that’s like “do you think I’d be happy with being shown mercy now, of all times?” because although it’s a different dynamic than narumitsu I was uh. intrigued.

... sorry it’s so vague I wanted to avoid spoilers anyways, moving on,

Phoenix’s mouth ran dry. Edgeworth couldn’t possibly be planning to —

“Everything has changed between us,” continued Edgeworth. “I want things to — to continue to change, I-I want to be closer, is—” He sucked a breath in through his teeth “— is it not obvious?”

Hadn’t they agreed, in that way they could agree without saying a word, that they were never going to talk about this?

Phoenix broke his gaze. “No. It’s not. I— I don’t want to argue with you. It’s late.”

Pretty much same as previous notes: Phoenix in extreme denial that this is actually happening whereas Miles is just trying to force it all out.

Phoenix is kind of trying to talk Miles down from confessing; Miles is sort of interpreting it as “Wright isn’t going to let me get away with not actually saying this so I need to be more direct.” 

I’m sure that later when Miles is curled up on his bed wondering where he went wrong he’ll think of that :)

“Phoenix.”

The use of his first name forced Phoenix to look up again.

Edgeworth stared at him for a long time. There was something impossible swimming just under the surface of his grey eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he said. “I am in love with you.”

HE DID IT!! He’s so brave I’m sure that nothing can go wrong!!

Gossip was one thing. Lingering touches and stolen glances, Phoenix could deal with those. The knowledge that Edgeworth was interested in him in a not-so-platonic way… that was more than enough.

This, hearing Edgeworth say the words out loud, was another thing entirely. Even if Phoenix already knew. Nothing could have prepared him for — for whatever this was, for Edgeworth, looking at him all open and vulnerable, and — and saying —

“Wh… What…?”

Edgeworth tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his bangs to fall into his face. “Surely you’ve figured it out already?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

At first there was a line right after “Even if Phoenix already knew” that was “Even if he felt the same”, but then I decided to make it so Phoenix can’t even admit his feelings to himself, so I cut that one out.

Anyways this is shocking to Phoenix partially because of Denial but also because he didn’t expect Miles to actually come out and say something like this. He’s used to Miles being closed off with his emotions and doesn’t think him the type to ever directly acknowledge them, so it’s got him totally off guard, too. It’s unpredictable for someone who is supposed to know Miles so well so it’s very unnerving for him.

“I… I think you are incredible,” said Edgeworth. “Your single-minded dedication to truth and justice. Your compassion. Your mercy. The way you… brought light, brought life, back into my world. You can be so frustrating, and stubborn, but that’s part of why I have always admired you so much.” The corners of his eyes softened. “You saved me a thousand times over, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side… however you want me.”

Miles generally people go on at least one date before proposing marriage but okay.

One thing I find interesting about Miles as a character is that he’s very much an all-or-nothing kind of person... he doesn’t ever really half-ass things and he doesn’t know how to do things gradually haha. He won’t allow the truth to be covered in darkness for even a moment even if it makes things easier for him in the long run. Saying “I think you’re great, maybe we should go on a few dates and see how things end up?” is probably the SENSIBLE thing to say, but Miles puts 100% of himself into everything that he does post-character development; and he’s secure enough in his relationship with Phoenix that he doesn’t really feel the need to test the waters. Plus Miles is allergic to uncertainty, so by the time he confesses he’d need to be absolutely certain that he loved Phoenix Wright and was prepared to pretty much go all in with him.

after all Phoenix feels the same way right!!

Phoenix stared. His heartbeat was reverberating in his ears. “I don’t know what to say. … Me.”

“Who else?”

“Who — a-anyone else. God, Edgeworth, what even is that shit, about me being i-intelligent, and dedicated, and compassionate, and — and — incredible, geez, I’m a wreck! I—” His voice wavered into a fit of near hysteria. “The only reason I’ve gotten this far is ‘cause I’ve always had amazing people by my side, and — and once they’re gone I’m back to whatever I usually am, I-I only have this one suit, I still haven’t got my freaking driver’s license, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but instant meals in a month—”

(And he looked to Edgeworth, desperately, but Edgeworth was still gazing at him, expression gentle, gentle yet unyielding, not taking back his words or expressing an ounce of regret — why wasn’t he changing his mind —)

“You’re describing yourself more than me,” said Phoenix weakly. “Really, I’m not — I’m not like that, okay, I’m not…” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

This is the one part that stayed consistent throughout all drafts of this scene haha. Some of it is echoes from what Godot told him back in Bridge to the Turnabout about him always needing someone to swoop in at the last minute to the rescue; others are sort of a loose refence to his behaviour during the beginning of RFTA and Reunion and Turnabout where he couldn’t really function without Maya there to look after.

This part sort of ties more into that objective I had with this chapter of contrasting how they see themselves; they both see each other as incredible people, because they don’t really get to see inside each other and see how much of a wreck they feel.

Also the very first sort of script of this confession had Phoenix saying “I thought you knew me better than this!” but that just seemed way too cruel for this haha.

“I know that I… that I have difficulty with these things,” said Edgeworth, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “I’ve never been the most open of people and we’ve — we’ve always been so distant, for so long. I wasn’t there for you when I should have been, and I want that to change. Because, ever since we met… you’ve been such a major part of my life. I never thought I would live to be older than my father. I never thought I would be happy with myself. But you, you came into my life, and you changed all that.”

(That wasn’t you,) a voice in Phoenix’s heart whispered. (You only started it. The rest was all him.)

“But I don’t want to be satisfied with what I have right now. I still want more. There’s still a part of life I want to explore, and… I want to do it with you.”

(He’s always been fine without you. One day he’s going to realize it too, and then…)

“I’m tired of hiding my emotions and being too afraid to upset the status quo when it comes to relationships. I refuse to be scared of that anymore.”

(Why isn’t he scared, too?)

ugh this was the hardest part to write I think...? Trying to figure out a way to get Phoenix’s internal feelings across where it doesn’t come out of nowhere. I settled with a lot of internal thoughts that are just like... self-loathing, pretty much.

Meanwhile Miles has prepared this whole emotional monologue that Phoenix is only half listening to, basically about what a huge impact Phoenix has had in his life and how he’s sort of... now that he’s presumably made large steps to fixing the justice system he’s turning to more personal goals in life, and one of those goals is spending his life with Phoenix, if he can be brave enough to do it.

Phoenix isn’t paying attention though because he’s too busy panicking...

“Most of all, I… I couldn’t hide anything from you for long. I’d trust you with the world. You’re my equal, and my opposite.” Something resembling a shaky smile crossed Edgeworth’s face. “And I love you.”

me shoving the “theme of the day” in there awkwardly

But he smiles!! This is one of the rare occasions where Miles kind of does smile... there’s a lot of “almost-smile”s or brief smiles and Miles is scared out of his wits here but he’s happy. he finally got that off his chest. he was brave and he told Phoenix how he felt and they’ll be so, so happy together, nothing can possibly go wrong,

The words knocked out any breath Phoenix had managed to regain. His skin suddenly felt cold and clammy, and he was faced with vertigo more intense than standing on rooftops. What was happening to him?

There was something he was supposed to say to this. He should react to this normally. His mouth was drier than a desert. His tongue felt unsightly and awkward in his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that if I have somehow misinterpreted, I won’t mention this again.” Unease and uncertainty flickered behind Edgeworth’s eyes. “And I would never be upset, as long as you tell me the truth. I want to take the next steps of my life with you. … Do you feel the same way?”

oh yeah this part was a little tricky too. Pretty much Phoenix is on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and cannot think of a response, even a nice polite rejection... and finally Miles starts realizing that something’s off, because before he was just running on adrenaline to try and get his feelings out that he didn’t stop to examine Phoenix’s reactions, otherwise he would’ve started overthinking and psyched himself out. But now that he got it out and seeing Phoenix pretty much in shock he’s starting to worry he’d made a mistake.

Also “unease and uncertainty” is definitely an “unnecessary feelings” reference because I’m shameless.

Yes, Phoenix wanted to say, yes, I do, and say what he felt, what he wanted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Why couldn’t he say it? It should be easy. If he truly wanted this, it should be as easy as breathing.

His vision swam with pink butterflies, he ran his tongue over the scars in his mouth, his breath caught jagged on the edges of chains —

Aaaand if either one of them had the magatama right now there would be the psyche-locks! I was gonna elaborate on this a lot but this is so far waaay longer than I intended so I’ll spare you and give a brief summary.

Essentially there are three locks. I wrote them as sort of representing each issue that Phoenix needs to acknowledge for them to break -- not necessarily fix, because that would be a super tricky thing, but acknowledging they’re there is a start. They’re pretty much “Trust”, “Abandonment”, and “Vulnerability”. Later I realized those issues are pretty much tied up in each other so instead I just made it so that each one is set by a traumatic event, and then acknowledging those events is what breaks them.

The first is an obvious “Dahlia and Iris really screwed up Phoenix’s ability to trust a partner romantically”. I love Iris but she really did mess him up as well. Phoenix kind of convinced himself he’s over this issue now since Iris was a good person! but really he’s still messed up about it. (And that’s where the butterflies + scars in his mouth sort of come from). Talking to Iris and acknowledging that he’s still hurting over it is what breaks this one.

The second is more directly related to all the times Miles himself has abandoned him particularly throughout the series. Some of the hurt when Miles prosecuted him in Turnabout Sisters, and definitely a lot regarding “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death”, it’s pretty much him being scared to get /too/ attached to Miles because he fears Miles might abandon him again. This one breaks in chapter 7 when he has the whole realization that Miles might die and leave him regardless, and acknowledges how afraid he is of Miles leaving again.

And the last is more of acknowledging his need to be needed by people and help people but they move on without him and not don’t really him in their lives. This built up more gradually... with littler things like Apollo leaving the Agency and Maya not being around as much and Trucy moving out. Neither of these are Big Bad Traumatic Events like the other two but it’s still an issue Phoenix has that he needs to acknowledge. Trucy’s letter breaks this one by telling him he’s never going to be alone and they all love him and are there for him. And that’s why right after reading the letter he can tell Miles that he loves him.

So that’s that. Moving back to the actual story now...

“Phoenix?”

Edgeworth still stood so close, too close, and when Phoenix breathed his senses were assaulted by the scent of his cologne and — and he was too close, and his words were too much, Edgeworth couldn’t be in love with him. Attracted, sure, but love — how could he so easily say love?

This wasn’t like Edgeworth. This wasn’t how things were before, this wasn’t how things had always been, every time things changed too fast something would go wrong, every time things changed too fast Edgeworth would leave again —

(— and right now Edgeworth’s body was coiled tight with tension, like a spring, ready to take off at any sudden movement —)

— and Phoenix couldn’t say a word.

Fairly self-explanatory I think: basically acknowledging that fear that Miles is going to leave again.

Phoenix was standing on the edge of a turnabout. Somewhere he’d have to take the plunge for victory, for the truth. He’d never shied from them before. He’d always accepted the risks. And they’d (almost always) paid off.

But something had Phoenix in a vice. Dark chains that wrapped around his chest and constricted his lungs. Something that would drown him if he took the plunge. Something that whispered that he could not risk this, his heart and his life in one. There was too much to lose. It was all too much.

That little (almost always) there is referencing that one time he presented the critical case-changing evidence and got disbarred for it; his disbarment messed him up pretty bad too, I guess it’d fit in the category of the third psyche-lock.

And of course the second paragraph references the psyche-locks more directly before they actually show up.

The words came. They weren’t the ones he wanted.

“No,” said Phoenix. “No, I don’t.”

The rattling in Phoenix’s head cut out. Silence fell over the room.

Pretty much once Phoenix stops pressing the issue the psyche-locks stop shaking. I imagine they’re a pretty terrible thing to break directly; he can’t do it on his own like this.

“... I see,” said Edgeworth, and something snapped shut, drew tight, rigid, back to a statue. “I thought… nevermind.”

Miles kind of draws back into himself all tightly-controlled, less open than before, because that really hurt him a lot. He’d probably prefer it than Phoenix being all evasive and sort of reassuring because he prefers people just cut straight to the facts, but that was direct even for him.

And of course he thought that Phoenix did feel that way about him. He was certain of it. So hearing Phoenix didn’t and he was completely wrong is... not good.

He’d gone so still. At the sight of it, whatever spell was holding Phoenix in its grasp broke, and he came back to reality — this wasn’t right, this wasn’t good, he had to fix this, somehow, bring things back to the way they were, “Edgeworth—”

And the sight of Miles completely freezing up and closing himself off is enough to break Phoenix free of the initial panic, because he does care a lot about Miles, and seeing him withdraw worries him.

“It’s getting late,” said Edgeworth, and only someone as experienced as Phoenix could detect the waver in his voice. “Thank you for being honest with me, Wright. I’ll talk to you later.”

The remark stung worse than a knife would, he couldn’t let it end like this. “I—”

The office door shut, none too gently. Phoenix was alone.

“... I’m sorry.”

That “thank you for being honest with me” wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a jab, of course, because Miles would prefer that Phoenix was honest than lie to him. But Phoenix did lie and that’s what bothers Phoenix the most throughout the next couple of chapters; they both value the truth so highly that lying to each other is inconceivable.

And Miles probably should have stuck around for a bit and heard Phoenix out and maybe Phoenix could have managed a half-decent explanation of “okay I don’t know what that was but this was very sudden and I’m panicking, can you give me time to process?” but if Miles stayed for much longer he probably would have started breaking down and that’s the last thing he wants to do right now, especially in front of Phoenix, so he left as soon as possible.

I think he managed to repress enough that he could get home safely, but the moment he crossed the threshold into privacy he probably had himself a good cry... curled up on the couch and watched some Steel Samurai with a tub of ice cream... but he was pretty emotionally devastated by this. It took a lot of effort for him to open up and be honest about his feelings so just being shut down like that... hurt a lot. He’d never admit it though.

anyways I also have this short bit of writing I posted a while back about Miles actually getting a hug after all this, because he really needs one.

And that’s the scene!! I think I said more than enough so I’ll end it here haha.

[a-n-conrad]

Fighting and Flirting (Bakugo x Reader)

Chapter 12: Fighting Blind

[Summary: The fights begin, and a fight against Tokoyami is bound to be interesting. You’re plenty able to hold your own, but what happens when you’re forced to overdo it?]

Masterlist

It was finally time for the tournament to begin. You had missed Ojiro giving up his spot since you had been distracted trying to think of strategies against all of the people in the tournament. To be honest, you were a little frustrated that they let the vine girl take his place. You had no idea what her fighting style was, so you really had no idea how you’d beat her if you had to. Though, to be fair, she didn’t know anything about you either. 

Out of all of the people that made it into the final game, after Ojiro gave up his spot that is, only four of them weren’t in your class. There was the general studies boy, Shinso, who Ojiro had theorized was behind his lack of memory from the cavalry battle. Then there was the support student that had been with Midoriya. Her name is Mei Hatsume, and while she seemed a little unstable, her support items were pretty impressive. Then the vine girl, Ibara. Obviously her quirk had to do with the vines that made up her hair, but since she was from 1-B, you didn’t know anything else. And lastly, a boy named Tetsutetsu, who seemed incredibly similar to your class’s Kirishima. 

You weren’t sure who you’d been fighting first, but you were hoping it wasn’t one of them. You wanted to be able to watch at least one of their fights before you’d possibly have to fight one of them. If they made it that far, of course. You had faith that your classmates would at least put up a fight. 

Your hope was confirmed when the bracket was finally revealed. You were in the sixth fight, against Tokoyami. You honestly didn’t know a whole lot about his quirk, but you were confident that you’d be able to figure out at least one weak point the take advantage of in that fight. 

Midoriya was against Shinso, which was likely to be an interesting fight. Shoto was against your classmate Sero, and you were sure that fight would be over a lot quicker than the reporters would like. Iida was placed against Hatsume. Kaminari was against Ibara, and Kirishima was facing Tetsutetsu. The fight that you were sure would be interesting was the last one of the round. Bakugo against Uraraka. You knew that Bakugo wasn’t about to go easy on Uraraka, but you also knew that she was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for. And she was determined to do well in this fight. As much as you wanted to fight Bakugo yourself, you couldn’t help but hope for your friend to do well too. 

- - - - -

The fights before your own had been interesting. Midoriya almost lost due to his opponent’s brainwashing quirk, only for him to break his own finger to snap himself out of it. Shoto froze Sero completely in an instant. He almost froze half of the stadium, too. You’d be worried about what was wrong if you hadn’t seen Endeavor’s face during the “fight”. Obviously, the two of them had talked. Kaminari lost his fight by trying to flirt with Ibara. You couldn’t say it was unexpected, but you had honestly hope for better from your classmate. Mina and Iida both won their fight, though Iida had a harder time. Hatsume had decided to basically use him as an advertisement for her support items and tricked him into wearing a few. He won in the end, though, so you were proud of him.

You were up next, though. And pacing around the room they had let you get ready in while they cleaned up after the earlier fight wasn’t helping your nerves. You’d have to find a way to fight Tokoyami, and trying to work out a strategy was a lot harder than usual since you didn’t know much about his quirk. 

The knock on your door interrupted your thoughts, and as you opened it, you weren’t really sure how to react. Instead of just the one person you had been expecting, There were two boys standing, waiting for you to let them in.

“Shoto, Bakugo?” You asked, a little confused, “What’s up?”

“Are you just going to make us stand out in the hallway, light show?” Bakugo snaps, crossing his arms.

You sigh and step out of the way, motioning for the two of them to enter your waiting room. You take a seat at one of the chairs they had placed at the table, and gesture for the two of them to join you. Bakugo puts his feet up on the table immediately, while Shoto sits politely across from you.

“Alright,” You begin, “Care to explain why the two of you are here?”

“We have an idea to help you win this fight,” Shoto explains calmly, causing Bakugo to roll his eyes. He obviously doesn’t like Shoto doing the talking.

“Since when are the two of you discussing strategy?”

“We both have our own reasons for wanting you to get as far as possible in this,” Shoto explains, “So we decided to help come up with a plan.”

“Hmm,” You make a point of seeming like you’re considering it. To be honest, you’re a little hurt. You had hoped that Shoto would at least have a little faith that you could get through the first fight. And you knew that Bakugo wanted to fight you, but you still didn’t understand why he’d bother helping you, “No thanks.”

“Huh?” Shoto actually seemed surprised at your reaction, while Bakugo just rolled his eyes at your refusal.

“Oh, come on,” Bakugo groaned, obviously annoyed, “Don’t be stubborn here. Just take the advice.”

“No, seriously, I don’t want it,” You reply, “It’s not that I don’t want help from you, I just don’t want help at all. It wouldn’t be a real win if I had you two help me, and there’s no way I’m going to give people more of an excuse to not take me seriously. I’m going to win this on my own.”

“Hm,” Bakugo nods his head a little, in what you can only interpret as a sign of approval, “Fine. but you better win, then. I’m not going to sit here and watch you pout if you lose because you refuse to take help.”

- - - - -

FROM HIS PERSPECTIVE

He knew she was stubborn, but he had to admit it was a little impressive. She was determined to win and to win on her own, and he could see it in her (e/c) eyes. She looked so determined, and it was almost like he could see her planning out the fight in her head as they talked.

She was smart. Even he had to admit that. Her quirk was impressive, too, though he wasn’t sure how well it would work in combat. Though, she could obviously hold her own in a fight. The USJ proved that much. He couldn’t explain why, but he wanted to see it up close. He really just had to see how she’d fight with her quirk. And he would today if they both got far enough.

The way the bracket was looking if she could beat Tokoyami, she’d be up against Mina. If she just beat Mina, She’d be up against him as long as he beat all of his competitors, too. And that was the fight he was really looking forward to.

Either way, he had to admire her determination.

- - - - -

The fight was beginning soon. You weren’t sure how to feel about how uninterested Tokoyami looked as he stood across from you. You weren’t sure if it was just because he was entirely uninterested in the game or if he was underestimating you. Or maybe that was just his face. Either way, you were hoping to change that look. No one can look that uninterested while losing a fight.

The fight started, and you dodged an attack right away, sidestepping Dark Shadow’s swift move forward. You didn’t know much about Dark Shadow, but you knew it was more him you’d be fighting than Tokoyami. You weren’t sure how human-like he was, but until you could figure it out, you’d try fighting him like one. 

He went to attack you again, and you slid under him, scraping up your knees a little on the concrete, but giving yourself just enough time to prepare your own attack. You hold a hand up, firing off a flash of light, just as Dark Shadow turns to face you again. You honestly don’t expect much to happen, so you brace yourself for a hit too, but as the light hits him Dark Shadow flinches away.

That was it! That was the in that you were looking for! You held the light, continuing until Dark Shadow was fully cowering near Tokoyami. Obviously, that was the weakness of his quirk. Dark Shadow can’t handle the light. 

You continued holding up your light, despite your vision starting to get a bit blurry. You began backing him up. He was obviously trying to find a way out of the situation you had put him in. He didn’t seem like he could fight back, and you knew that even if he did, you could overpower Tokoyami on his own. He wasn’t much of a fighter if Dark Shadow wasn’t involved.

He continued to back up, attempting to buy himself some time, only to freeze completely when he reached the edge of the boundaries for the fight. The look in his eyes was familiar. You’d seen it on Shoto’s face plenty, and he’d seen it on you even more. You were in a place you hadn’t expected to be, and you were trying to figure out some last-ditch attempt to get out of it.

You went to shove him out of bounds and you really should have seen it before he moved. He dodged under your arm, and you almost stumble out of bounds. You barely caught yourself in time, but you managed to stay in bounds.

“Shit,” That’s what you get for getting cocky.

You ran after him again, attempting to catch Dark Shadow with another ball of light, but your eye-sight was already getting blurry, so you couldn’t really aim all the well. He managed to get a hit in, knocking you down onto your side. You could feel where the bruises would form later. 

You quickly pulled yourself up regardless. The fight wasn’t over, but you were definitely at a disadvantage for now. With your vision as blurry as it was, it’d be hard for you to aim a beam of light. You’d just have to find a way to light up the entire stadium.

It’d be taxing, but it’d be worth it if it worked. With a little bit of focus, you managed to send a few balls of light to float just a bit above the battlefield. A little more focus and you manage to light them all up as bright as you could. In all honesty, you couldn’t see how bright it was. You were obviously overusing your quirk since your vision had gone from blurry to pure white. 

You manipulated your own sounds to be quieter and any sound Tokoyami made to be louder, in hopes that would be enough to work as sight, while you didn’t have your own. 

You could hear him breathing. He was close, and since he wasn’t moving as you walked towards him,  you guessed that he was likely near the edge. You hoped, at least. As you got closer, his breathing sped up. Obviously he knew you were there. The blindness was definitely from overusing your quirk and not just the amount of light, then. And he still didn’t move, so you had to be right. He was at the edge.

You got close enough, you hoped at least, and reached out. You felt your hand hit his shoulder. With a little bit of an extra shove, you felt him lose his footing. You heard his back hit the ground. Hopefully, he was out of bounds because you had a feeling you couldn’t keep the lights up much longer.

“Tokoyami is out of bounds,” You hear the announcement, and drop the lights as soon as you can, “(L/n) wins!”

- - - - -

“Wow, (Y/n)!” You know the voice is Uraraka, but you still can’t see her. You barely managed to get to Recovery Girl’s office on your own, “That fight was amazing!”

She obviously thought you were just here for some scrapes, but you really couldn’t get back to the stands without your vision. At least on your own. Maybe if you had her help. But then you’d have to admit that you had overused your quirk. And you really didn’t want her to worry.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Why do you ask?” You’re not even sure if you’re looking at her. You hope you’re looking in the right direction, but you really have no clue. 

“You haven’t looked at us the entire time we’ve been here. You’re just staring off into the distance like you think we’re there,” Iida’s voice surprises you, and you jump a little. You know they see it. You hadn’t known he was there, “You can’t see, can you?”

You sigh. You had honestly hoped you’d get by without any of them figuring it out. You supposed it was obvious, though. If you really had completely missed the mark with looking at them, while also being caught off guard by Iida’s presence, you really couldn’t hope that they wouldn’t catch on, “Yeah. That’s the real drawback of my quirk. If I overuse it, I lose the sense I’m using. Overusing the light and my vision goes, and if I overuse the sound, I lose my hearing.”

“For how long?” Midoriya this time. You hadn’t known he was there either.

“Usually not long,” You say, “But if I overuse my sound too much, I might go permanently deaf. I don’t think there’s quite the same concern when it comes to my vision. It’ll probably be back before the second round starts.”

A silence falls over the group for a little while. You really wished you could see their faces. You hated not knowing what anyone was thinking. You didn’t even know who was all there. Maybe it was just those three, but maybe it wasn’t. 

“Here,” It wasn’t just those three. Bakugo. You weren’t sure how he and Deku had been getting along long enough for you to not notice he was there, but he was obviously closer than the rest of them, “Let’s get you back to the stands.”

“I can’t really walk up the stands if I can’t see, hothead,” You groan.

“That’s why I’m gonna walk you up there, dumbass,” He snapped, “I’m going to grab your hand now, ok?”

You nod, and you feel his hand grab your own. It was warmer than you thought, but you supposed you should’ve expected it. It’s probably from his quirk. You’d never been this close to him either. Or maybe your sense of smell was just boosted. Either way, it was the first time you’ve noticed that he smelled like caramel. 

He helps you out of the bed you were sitting on and makes sure you can stand steadily. You’re surprised that no one else in the room is saying anything, but you’re sure it has something to do with him attempting to intimidate them into silence. That wasn’t important right now, though. What’s important is making sure you can get back to the stands without hurting yourself. 

“Hey, Bakugo?”

“Yeah?” He sounds uninterested, but part of you is pretty sure it’s because he’s focusing.

“Is there a way we can get to our seats without letting the entire class know what’s wrong?”

You’re surprised when he doesn’t sound annoyed. And you’re surprised at how gentle his hands are as he guides you up the stairs, “Sure thing, glowstick.”