#i just finished a com i need a break. i did this this morning as a warmupy thing

[matoitech]

small alteration ideas for lucas's face design cuz i didnt rly like the marking on his upper muzzle originally and thought the sides of his face were a little bare. i showed my boyfriend this and he said 'he looks horny' so i added sweat but then it didnt help i think it just made it worse. whatever is it a crime if hes horny. anyway i did these lines super fast in between working on commissions cuz i just wanted 2 try some dif marking alterations

[begko]

keep quiet. -seijoh 4

warnings: 18+ MDNI, poly, implied masturbation, implied sex(? I think), idk how to tag so lmk if there's anything else

contains: fem reader, seijoh 4 x reader (but mostly Matsukawa x reader and Hanamaki x reader)

wc: 1.2 k

a/n: I feel like there's not enough seijoh 4 fics out there so I decided to write one myself lol. This is my first fic so if anyone likes this I'll finish this and try to post more. Just ask and I'll lyk if I can do it!

Living in an apartment with four other boys never left your days feeling dull. Although you were all in your 20’s and supposedly more mature than your younger selves, they were still boys. 

They would each find ways to somehow piss you off, whether consciously or not. Dirty laundry in the living room, a bag of chips left open on the counter, or the loud moans of a random girl spilling through the crack in their bedroom door. These things wouldn’t typically leave you feeling so annoyed, but hearing a repeating “Yes Oikawa!” at 3 AM– the night before your abnormal psychology midterm may I add– was seriously starting to test your patience. 

Before you knew it, you found your feet gliding stomping down the hallway towards the brunette’s room, unknowingly drawing the other three to peek out from their own doors. 

“I SWEAR TO GOD TOORU. IF SHE DOESN’T SHUT UP YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN.” You emphasized your threat by loudly pounding your fist on his door, then swiftly retreating back to your room, slamming your door for good measure. You put your earbuds back in and tried to focus on the music that filled your ears.

Thankfully, you eventually drifted to sleep, but the groggy feeling you had the next morning did not dissipate, even with the large coffee you had made. After fumbling with your keys for what seemed like forever, you were met with the faces of your roommates, all waiting to greet you. They each gave you a warm smile, which normally would brighten your mood a bit, but the sight of Tooru’s face made a frown appear on your face. Without a word, you disappeared into your room and threw yourself onto the bed, hoping to catch up on some sleep.

“What did I do?” Hajime immediately slapped the back of Tooru’s head in response. “You idiot! She had an exam today and you haven’t even apologized for keeping her up!” Hajime clicked his tongue in annoyance at his best friend. Tooru rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain. “Well how do I make her forgive me? I didn’t know she had an exam!” 

Hajime merely shook his head, “Figure it out.” he said before going to check on you. As he opened your door, he found you– jeans and all – laying face-down on your bed. A groan of acknowledgement came from your figure, causing Hajime to let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?” 

“Headache.” Was all you managed to say before beckoning him to lay with you. He obliged, letting you roll over before laying on top of your half-made bed with you. He adjusted you both so your head would be comfortably caged in his arms, while you curled into his warmth.

“It’s alright, just get some sleep. I’ll stay with you, baby.” There it was. That nickname he gave you. It always put a smile on your face, this time no different, as you drifted off with your lips sleepily curled up at the corners.

While, yes, they were annoying at times, one could argue that they had a soft spot for you. They would often lay with you if they knew you wanted the company, just as Hajime was doing. When a boy would break your heart, you would find one of them waiting outside of your lecture hall with a bouquet of daffodils, ready to take you out to eat or to a club. With them, you never needed to watch cringey rom-coms while incessantly crying. They distracted you from the heartache, until it eventually melted away. And those nicknames, god, those nicknames. You were sure that they meant nothing, but the way that they locked eyes with you as they uttered ‘Princess’ or ‘Darling’ made your heart stop in ways that felt more than platonic. Sometimes, when you touched yourself in the dead of the night, you found yourself imagining them saying it, driving you to your climax. But you would never admit that to any of them. Just as they wouldn’t admit that you would sometimes let your moans get loud enough for them to hear, driving them to let their hands wander down beyond the waistbands of their boxers. They quickly chased their high, knowing that without the sweet noises of your pleasure seeping through the thin walls, they would be left unsatiated.

You awoke to the delicious smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. After stretching a bit, you opened your eyes to find Hajime no longer next to you. You followed the smell into the main area of your apartment, finding the boys sitting at the kitchen counter chatting while Tooru stood with a pink apron on. 

Your small laugh caused them all to turn their heads to wear you stood, a smile appearing on each of their faces. You walked up to them and put your hands on the counter, surveying the mess left on top of it.

“I made you your favorite! And before you say anything, I was just about to clean up.” That drew another giggle to fall from your lips. You mumbled out a ‘You better.” as Tooru wrapped his arms around your form. “I’m sorry for keeping you up last night, please forgive me?” 

“ Fine, just buy a gag for the next time you wanna bring one of them home.” The four laughed while you began to set the table.

After dinner, Tooru told you to put on a movie while the rest of them did the dishes and grabbed something sweet to snack on. You opted to take a quick shower before doing so and changed into a comfortable tank top and shorts. As you plopped down on the couch and simply chose to re-watch The Hunger Games, Hiro and Issei sat down on either side of you. Issei guided you between his legs, allowing your head to lay on his chest, as Hiro moved your legs into his lap. Hiro draped a blanket over your form, as you gave him a small smile of thankfulness. Soon after, Hajime and Tooru sat in the smaller armchairs and started the movie. 

You’ve seen this movie a million times, after all it was your favorite. But as you watched Katniss tie herself to a tree in an attempt to get some sleep, you began to grow bored. You shifted from your position, fidgeting in hopes of becoming comfortable again. “Sit still, pretty girl. I wanna know what happens next.” You heard Issei whisper into your ear. You freeze. For some reason, the mixture of the hot breath that you felt on your neck and the raspiness of his voice made your stomach form a knot. But it wasn’t until you felt Hiro’s hand start to slowly travel up the length of your leg that you finally realized what you were feeling. You felt hot, making you squirm even more. Issei’s arm snaked around your middle, holding you in place. “I said sit still. We’ll give you a reward if you’re good.” Suddenly it felt like your senses were heightened. The feeling of Issei’s arm and Hiro’s wandering hands made your breathing come to a halt. Is this a dream?

“Do you trust us, pretty girl?”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Yeah I got a request. Cuddles with mommy characters of your choice would heal me of my ailments, like a victorian child who would be soothed by seeing the sea one final time before the affliction takes hold

(Genshin Impact/H:SR/GFL) Cuddling with Lisa, Yae, Yelan, Himeko, Natasha, Springfield, and RO635

That's...oddly specific.

Lisa cuddling with her S/O is comfortable and very lazy.

Whether it be reading a book, drinking tea, or simply enjoying each other's warmth, there will be nothing productive done that day.

But in order to achieve such heavenly bliss, they will have to work doubly hard right before, so that way they can lounge about with no risk of worrying about work.

That, or she'll find excuses. If it's raining, then oh well! Nothing to do but relax at home.

With her eyes slowly fluttering open, her head rests into the crook of S/O's neck, latching onto them with both her arms.

(Lisa) yawn "It's so early in the morning..."

S/O's eyes glance over to the wall before sighing.

(S/O) "It's ten."

(Lisa) "Hm...still too early, cutie..."

Though cuddling with Yae can lull S/O a somewhat sleepy state, somehow they feel like that's exactly what she wants.

Yae's smile seems to indicate she has something up her sleeve.

(Yae) "Oh? Why are you getting so antsy of all a sudden, S/O?"

(S/O) "I know that look, Miko..."

(Yae) "Do you now? Is it truly so mind-boggling that I too, can enjoy just some regular affection?"

...A moment of silence gives her the answer.

With a flick of their forehead, her hand playfully mimics a fox with her fingers.

(Yae) "Sorry to disappoint dear, but I just wish to spend some quality time today.~"

She of course, jumpscares them later to which she laughs endlessly about.

Yelan rolled the dice, and have dictated to her that she take a break.

And she wasn't really feeling like finishing the rest of work anyway, so this works out.

(Yelan) "Not planning on moving anywhere for a while, S/O?"

(S/O) "Guess not with you laying on me like this."

(Yelan) "Perfect, don't mind if I do.~"

Yelan rests her head on S/O's stomach and dozes off for a while.

S/O smiles as one hand brushes against her hair. Having her relax with them was a rare treat.

And though they didn't know entirely what she did, getting her to sleep with someone in the room meant she trusted them completely.

Plus, they knew Yelan would want to get dinner at some point tonight, no need to rush things, as she would say.

As the Astral Express is travelling through the stars, Himeko spends a good chunk of her time with S/O, close together on the couch.

Sometimes its drinking coffee together, sometimes its talking with the other crew members, and sometimes its even just sitting together in silence.

As much as their expeditions were ways for everyone to bond, it was the quiet moments like these that Himeko cherishes with her S/O the most.

After all, no one quite knew where their final stop could be, and-

(S/O) "Himeko?"

Himeko snaps out of her mini reverie and feels S/O grab her hand, turning to look at them.

(S/O) "You alright? You were spacing out a little there."

(Himeko) "Ah, don't worry, I'm okay."

Himeko lets S/O's head rest on her shoulder and she closes her eyes, committing this feeling to memory.

(Himeko) "I just want to stay this way for a little longer..."

Natasha lets S/O hold her after a long day, a feeling she very much welcomes.

(S/O) "Hey Nat, feeling tired?"

She hums in response, her body relaxing as their hand brushes some strands of hair out of her face.

(Natasha) "As always, my dear..."

S/O chuckled at that, and let her ramble on about her day, ranging from the state of patients or whatever shenanigans the Moles got up to.

Though she'd be right back to doing more tomorrow, for now she could at least enjoy the company of someone she loved.

It was nice to be pampered every now and then.

No objections from her when it comes to being looked after, instead of always the other way around.

Springfield's smile grows wider the moment she sees S/O come into her cafe.

(Springfield) "Welcome back, love."

(S/O) "Thanks. Mind if I get the usual?"

(Springfield) "Already in a cup."

Making S/O sit in a nearby booth, she finishes cleaning her cups before joining them, both of them snuggling into each other.

Though she was a T-Doll, the warmth she gave off was just as real as any human.

(Springfield) "Work around the base busy as always?"

(S/O) "Psh, especially when Kalina and the Commander have me running around!"

A soft giggle escapes her lips as one hand barely moves to cover it, letting S/O continue and listen intently, all while her arm wraps around theirs.

RO sighs when S/O asked to hold her.

She was still in the middle of processing some reports, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt.

At least no one was watching this time.

(RO635) "You have been working hard lately...Okay okay, come here..."

With a blush creeping onto her face, RO holds S/O tightly, and not giving them space to wiggle their way out.

Assuming they even would.

Hopefully, she wouldn't have to say out loud how much she loves them and that the blush on her would do all the talking.

(S/O) "RO, you're head is burning hot, you alright?-"

(RO635) "A-Ah! I'm fine just...j-just a little embarrassed."

(S/O) "I thought you'd be used to this by now-"

She turns to them pouting, but her hold on them has gotten tighter.

[rinneroraito]

sobering up

almost 3K words, rejection, continuation of this

I actually don’t remember when I woke up, I just realized my eyes were open and I was staring at the off-white ceiling of the headquarters’ office. Dawn was breaking, evident by the soft rays of light coming in through the room by the gaps in the curtains. A sharp pang starts up in my head like I was wearing a crown of thorns around my skull and I wince in pain, hissing as I draw in a slow breath. The blanket that was draped over me falls off of my shoulders while I slowly get up from the couch. Every movement made my eyes go out of focus, the shooting pain setting off flashes of light behind my dry eyes. I never knew even blinking would become laborious in my state.

Fuck, I forgot to hydrate myself last night when I drank…

Turning my neck carefully to the side, I could see a tray with a bottle of sports drink and what seems to be a painkiller on the coffee table. I gingerly reached out to take the drink and the medicine, hoping it would be enough to relieve me of my hangover. The silver casing of the ibuprofen makes a popping sound as I break it and shove the pill between my lips. I finish the entire bottle of sports drink and I lean back into the couch, nursing my headache. The humming of L’s computers and the clacking from his keyboard are the only things I could hear along with my breathing. Concentrating on these sounds I fall asleep again.

—

The sunlight coming through the windows of the office sting my cheeks and I wake up once more, slowly straightening myself up from my position. As I look around with my bleary eyes, I see L at the other side of the room, still working. I grabbed the blanket off of the floor and hung it loosely over the arm of the couch. The pounding in  my head from my initial awakening has slightly abated.

Well, I didn't forget what I did last night though, that's for sure. There goes my dignity. Great going, Rinne, you’ve shamelessly confessed to L that you had a crush on him. Why did you even do it? You didn’t even need to drink that much last night, you stupid, stupid girl. Why couldn’t you stay in your room and sleep? What does he think of me now? Does he think that maybe I’m just a fangirl fawning over him? Good lord, am I going to be taken off of this investigation? Fuck… 

I don’t even notice myself hunching over with my hands covering my face, palms pressed to my cheeks so hard as if trying to force the embarrassment I felt back into the recesses of my mind where I couldn’t find them.

Goddamnit, Rinne, why are you such an idiot with your feelings… Stupid, stupid alcohol. Stupid, stupid, drunk Rinne… He’s not some ordinary guy, he’s the fucking Greatest Detective in the World, you can’t just willy-nilly go up to him like that and-

“Good morning, Miss Uehara.”

My head snaps up so fast that my mouth hangs open as I look at L. Hearing his voice almost sobered me up, but seeing his stoic face made my ears burn as blood started to rush to my head in mortification. I look away and frantically wipe the corners of my eyes with my fingers, hoping my face looked decent enough to him.

“Good morning, Detective…”

“Are you sober? Is there anything else you need to aid with your hangover or was the Ibuprofen and sports drink enough?”

“I um…” I hesitated before answering, clawing at my hair to smooth it over my shoulder, my eyes distant. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“You always seem to hesitate with communicating your needs, Miss Uehara. Does having your necessities catered to make you feel too much like a burden?”

Sometimes I wished he wasn’t as observant and as perceptive as he was, hearing him say it out loud made me want to retort at him but my hangover was keeping my attitude in order.

“Fine, I guess I could have some warm broth, a soda and another sports drink…”

“Soda? For a hangover?”

“It helps with the nausea.”

“Alright, I’ll have Watari bring them up. Please remember not to be reluctant with making your needs known, it’ll make things less complicated for you.” He takes out a phone from his jeans pocket and starts to give instructions to Watari while my mind is still stuck with his last sentence.

That’s easier said than done… 

He’s blunt with his words and is indifferent towards how people will take them, and I’m no exception from that kind of treatment. I’m just another one of the Task Force members working with (or more like under) him after all, another tool in his arsenal.

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.”

He shoves the phone back into his pocket before leaning towards my direction to speak again.

“How much time do you need to sober up for?”

“I am sober, the ibuprofen is doing its job with the headache.”

“Sober enough to hold a proper conversation with me?”

There it is. The confrontation I’ve been dreading. 

My body immediately felt cold as the air in the office seemed to freeze around me. I hadn’t even noticed that I wasn’t looking at his face since I greeted him, realizing my eyes had been glued to the now-empty bottle of sports drink on my hands. My thumb goes over the ridges on the plastic as I begin to feel the thorns around my skull loosen up, not from the painkiller but from this whole interaction we were having.

“You waste no time, do you? Of course you don’t,” I remarked sullenly, still staring at the ridges on the plastic bottle I held.

“I would like to clear the air between us as soon as possible.”

“Yea, I figured.”

“Miss Uehara, please look at me.”

The hesitation is evident from the stretch of silence that extends between the two of us as I continue to scratch at the ridges of the plastic bottle with a nail, refusing to look up at him. I didn’t want him to dig out the shame from my expressions no matter how blank I tried to keep my face, nor did I want him to look at me. Not with those eyes of his.

What he does next surprises me as he crouches down on the floor, tilting his head to the side so he could meet my gaze.

There they are, those sharp unblinking eyes, boring holes through my defensive aversion.

“I can answer you without needing to look at you, Detective…”

“I know, but I’d like to gauge your expressions just to make sure you’re not lying to me.”

I meet his eyes briefly, gritting my teeth.

“Lying by omission is still lying, Miss Uehara.”

You son of a bitch.

With the enthusiasm of a cat being given a bath, I stared back at him, trying my best to match his neutral expression.

“Do you remember what you told me last night?”

“I do.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

He looked down for a moment, and when he looked back up at me he had a thumb pressed to his lips.

“Miss Uehara, are you actually infatuated with me, or was it just a case of drunken rambling?”

The crunch of the empty plastic bottle tears through the morning silence as my grip on it tightens. Fuck. I straighten myself up on the couch, wringing the poor bottle with both hands now in an attempt to keep myself emotionally intact. I wanted to answer, but no words came out. I wasn’t even looking at him again; my eyes stayed on the now-mangled piece of plastic that used to be a bottle of sports drink. I feel like throwing up.

“Miss Uehara-”

He sounded too close and I whipped my head to the side to see that he had perched himself next to me. His proximity caused me to flinch back, keeping a significant amount of space between us.

“Answer my question, please.”

L is persistent, unbearably stubborn, and for the few weeks that I’ve worked with him I know now that I can’t just drop this conversation. He won’t let it go until he gets the truth out of me.

“Fine,” I started, peering back into his piercing stare apprehensively. 

“I am infatuated with you, Detective. What are you going to do about it?”

There was a scathing quality to the way I said the last sentence. Why was I so angry about this whole situation anyway? Is it actually anger or just annoyance over the fact that my confession came out severely underprepared out of a drunken impulse, and I have to face the consequences of it now?

He observes me unblinkingly as he brings his thumb between his teeth and gnaws at it for a moment before speaking again. “I see. Miss Uehara, allow me to be completely honest with you.”

The couch gives just a little when he leans closer to me. I felt my breath hold, my hands growing clammy around the mangled plastic bottle.

“Do not be mistaken, I am flattered that you find me as someone you could be fond of, even though I am now questioning your taste in men. That aside, I am in no place to return your affection, as I do not feel the same.”

The breath I had been holding comes out as a gasp. Was it out of relief? Shock? I wasn’t sure, but I started to laugh.

What was I expecting? That he’d entertain me just because I liked him? We’re in the middle of a fucking investigation that literally spells life or death for everyone involved and here I was, hoping that he felt the same? Oh, oh… I’m laughing because this whole thing was funny, and I was being stupid. He probably thinks I’ve gone mad.

The poor Detective looked bewildered by my reaction as I tried to pull myself together, raising a finger at him to give me a minute.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. Um, it’s stupid, isn’t it? But yeah, don’t worry about it, you don’t need to return my feelings nor acknowledge them, we’ve got more pressing matters on our hands.”

“I am sensing a hint of passive aggression in your tone.”

“Just-” I squeezed my cheeks with my palms before I continued speaking. “Listen to me, Detective. I think part of the reason I came here last night and did what I did was because I wanted to get that off of my chest no matter how you’d take it. I did it drunk because I knew deep down I’d never feel brave enough to admit any of that to you while sober. Confronting me about it now is jarring, to say the least, because it’s something I decided to do on impulse without any thought. It’s also hard for me to explain to you that the truth is, I just started pouring my heart out to you because I was drunk and it felt…right.”

Our conversation gets briefly interrupted by Watari who arrives with a tray of the items L requested from earlier. He silently sets them down on the coffee table before us, takes the blanket from the arm of the couch where I hung it, nods and then leaves. I took this small break as an opportunity to grab the new bottle of sports drink and take a few swigs from it. L looks away for a moment, chewing on the nail of his thumb. Everything probably gets rolled around in his mind a hundred times before he decides on the most logical explanation to an incident, and I wonder… Is that why he keeps eating sweets at work, to keep his brain running? What does he think of when he’s not busy trying to solve a case? Is he doing the same thing with my “confession”? He just outright told me that he does not feel the same. Am I actually taking his rejection well? What else am I expecting? 

What am I expecting?

“I feel like I’m not making sense and I’m just rambling again. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I understand. At least, I understand what you’re trying to convey.”

“Okay… Sure?”

“It’s not stupid, Miss Uehara, and I value your straightforwardness. You’ve also told me last night that you might start to feel awkward around me due to your confession, so I assume they really are your honest feelings. You were the very first person to approach me and express your sentiments about me outside of my investigative work. To be honest, I would still like to ask you out, that hasn’t changed from the first time I met you but the circumstances we’re currently in will not allow us such a dalliance…”

L pauses, thumbing his bottom lip. My eyes stay locked on his as rays of sunlight pass through the gaps in the curtains. The light scattered on one side of his face, and I could feel the heat on my cheek, too. It takes me a while to realize what he just said and I now question if the warmth I was feeling on my cheeks were from the sunlight or the blood rushing to my face. My legs start to bounce.

Oh …

“When I said I did not feel the same way about you, I meant that whatever you might be feeling towards me is something I cannot reciprocate at the moment. I find you attractive, and I am impressed by your abilities as an investigator, but I do not feel the way you do about me, and I believe a certain amount of reciprocity is required for two people to connect. You deserve that much, and I am not the person for that.”

He held my gaze steadily while he spoke and he looked away as soon as he finished, thumbing his bottom lip. My face was burning at this point and I brought a hand up to squeeze my cheeks together, placing the bottle of sports drink back on the table. Unspoken words hang in the air of the morning for a few moments, the silence so thick it was almost palpable. I glance at the World’s Greatest Detective whose elbows rested on his knees, still deep in thought.

“Thank you for your honesty, Detective,” I finally replied.

“You’re welcome.” “Now I wish I could have taken you up on your offer that first time we met. Maybe things would be different now.”

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk, Miss Uehara.”

“I know, Detective, I know. I’ll just enjoy whatever time I get to spend with you, I guess.”

He looks back at me, his piercing eyes a mysterious dark lake I’m trying to wade into.

“Just because you rejected me doesn’t mean I’ll stop liking you immediately, you know? It takes a while for feelings to disappear,” I continue.

“You’ll be hurt.”

“I’m hurt now.”

For some reason, the statement appears to have caught him off guard, and he takes his time responding.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I wonder if it was genuine or something just out of his  accustomed courtesy.

“It’s part of the entire thing, not exactly new to me.”

“Why would you willingly put yourself in a situation where you’ll be hurt? Is the payoff truly worthwhile for something as risky as a romantic relationship?”

My eyes trail off to the bowl of warm broth I had requested earlier and I take it with both hands, sipping directly from it completely disregarding the spoon that came with it.

“Because it’s exciting, fulfilling to me in a way and in my experience, yes. It is worth it.”

I could feel him staring at me as I pondered over the bowl before taking a few more sips from it. Then I realized something from the question he just asked.

He’s never been in a relationship before, has he?

The bowl feels warm on my palms as I return my gaze to L.

“You’ve never been romantically involved with someone, Detective?”

“No, I never had the time to nurture one. It would be pointless as I’d only be neglecting them due to my work.”

“Hm, that makes sense. There’s also the danger attached to being connected to you, and becoming a liability.”

There’s a solemn quality to his expression as he nods.

Was this a man who has completely accepted his lonely fate of solving crime because it’s what he liked to do and was good at? Was Watari the only constant human connection he’s had his whole life? Did he really just spend most of his time solving crime after crime, mystery after mystery? Was he never really going to take a chance at… 

Rinne, stop it. 

Why are you still hoping? Stop it.

We’re silent for a while. My legs stop bouncing momentarily as I settle the now empty bowl of broth back on the coffee table. I then grab the can of soda and crack it open, the pop and fizz ringing out in the warmth and awkwardness of the atmosphere.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks in his familiar monotone.

“Yeah, sobering up,” I reply, bringing the can up to my mouth.

The soda wasn’t cold enough.

[withlove-amber]

Girls Night Confessions

alden parker x reader

(Y/N) needed a break. First, she chased a suspect for two blocks, only to have them escape. When she got back to the NCIS building, the team tried to make her feel better, but she couldn’t help feeling like everything was her fault. So she was more than grateful when Parker gave her an extra pastry from the box. Unfortunately, his sweet gesture did not make her current crush on him any easier. Second, she had to get recertified in the pepper-spraying course. And as a result, she couldn’t see anything besides the tears that constantly blurred her vision throughout the very long day. Lastly, her neighbor had her boyfriend over, so that meant sleep went out the fucking window. So when it was time for girls’ night with Jessica, Kasie, and Delilah, she could not have been more desperate for an escape.

The night was filled with laughter, gossip, and alcohol. Like, a lot of gossip and alcohol. When Kasie suggested they watch a rom-com, everyone was all for it. So that’s how they ended up on their third rom-com of the night, finished three bottles of wine and two bottles of tequila, and it wasn’t even 2 am. Everyone was going to be so hungover the next day. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was because she was drunk, but she could not stop daydreaming about her silver-haired team lead by the name of Alden Parker. No matter what she did, she kept picturing the different situations on screen, replaced by her boss. The way the lead male and the lead female stared into each other’s eyes the next morning after a night filled with passion and romance, sent shivers down her spine at the thought of Parker’s kind, hazel eyes staring into her own. 

Jessica noticed (Y/N) daydreaming during the movies, and decided to ask her what she was thinking about. (Y/N) lied, and said the reason why she kept zoning out was she was just a little tired. But Jessica was sure there was something else that must be going on inside of her head. After their final movie, she asked (Y/N) again what was up. (Y/N) tried to lie again, but Delilah and Kasie started to get a tad bit suspicious too. At this point, they were all starting to get a little worried for (Y/N), because although she kept saying she was fine, (Y/N)’s body language and the distance in her eyes told a much different story. 

When they asked a third and final time, Jessica followed up with, “Is it something about the silver hair that does it for you, (Y/N)?” All three of them watched (Y/N)’s face turn bright red, and not just from the copious amounts of alcohol. Jessica smirked at her friend’s non-verbal response, and said, “I knew it! But seriously, is it the hair?” “It’s a combination of a lot of things. He’s kind, thoughtful, smart, funny, strong, courageous. And yes, the hair definitely is a plus.” (Y/N) confessed. Kasie sat on the sofa, shocked as to how she didn’t figure it out earlier. ‘I mean, she already calls him her ‘safe haven’.’ Kasie thought. Kasie, Jessica, Delilah all promised not to say anything to anyone (especially Parker). Plus, it would break their girls night motto: what happens at girls night, stays at girls night. (Y/N) promises she’ll make a move soon, to get them to finally stop talking about it, but she just needed to figure out how. 

The next Monday morning, both Jessica and Kasie kept making faces at (Y/N) whenever Parker would come around. At one point, Jessica handed (Y/N) a note that said, “Make a move, sister! Or I’ll tell him!” Neither (Y/N) nor Jessica realized that Parker was getting suspicious. He noticed the little things. Like when she rode in the back of the NCIS van with Jessica and Nick, instead of sitting up front with him, like normal. And when they got to the crime scene, she chose to take pictures of the scene, instead of interviewing the witnesses like usual. He wondered why she was so distant, especially when she kept visiting Kasie in the lab or Jimmy in autopsy. Little did he know what was said at Kasie’s place, during girls’ night.

[knightofmidnightsun]

The both of us are no good [epilogue] | HELMUT ZEMO

Summary: As you and Helmut confront the events that had shaped your journey together, it's time to face what awaits for you.

Warnings: Angst. a lot of angst again, as always so be ready. and, well, no more I think? Maybe reference to mental illness if you squint your eyes? Consider it the chapter more chill when talking about warnings.

Word count: 18K

Skeletons, skeletons series: [1], [2], [3], [epilogue]

Notes: Well, that's it!!!! So sorry for getting so long to write it, I just got into a internship!!! (SCREAMS) and have been really busy with my scientific research, so yes, my life has been a hurricane. BUTTT, im finally had time to finish reader and Helmut's journey, or the first part of it. I hope you enjoy it!! We will met again!!

The steady hum of the aircraft blades droned on in the night, blending with the quiet breathing of Sam and Bucky as they slept nearby. The dark sky outside was only occasionally broken by distant, flickering lights below.

You sat in your corner, a book in your hands, but the words blurred as your mind wandered elsewhere. Sleep had been impossible ever since the morning’s events.

Every time you closed your eyes and dared to go to sleep, you could hear his voice. Faintly, but you did.

You moved away from your seat with Helmut soon after risking sleeping off your plans, claiming one of the empty seats near the window—hoping the view of the night sky might distract you, keeping your thoughts at bay.

But even as you tried to focus on the passing darkness outside, the steady churn of your thoughts returned. The weight of it all—the missions, the memories—struggled around you like a vice.

Not only because of what had happened today, but for what would happen in the next morning, in less than eight hours.

Five years by Helmut’s side, through every mission, every battle, and now, tomorrow, you were supposed to hand him over to Wakanda. A final goodbye after all that time.

The thought had been tormenting you ever since Joaquín arrived to rescue you all and announced that the Dora Milajes had demanded your presence in Wakanda. All of you were aware of what it meant, you didn’t need to say a word or ask for clarification.

Since then, you tried not to look at Helmut as he sat in the shadows, sleeping so peacefully. He hadn’t said much since Joaquín announced the news, and part of you wished he had.

Helmut could have changed along the last five years—but he still was Baron Helmut Zemo.

God forbid he tells you what he's thinking, how he’s feeling, knowing now that after five years, he'll be back in his cell.

You tsked, also angered at yourself for not gathering the courage to question him.

You had courage enough to trap your demon-father in your mind but not to face Helmut’s departure.

Sometimes, you wished you could slap yourself.

You turned your gaze back to the book in your lap, forcing your eyes to scan the page, but the words might as well have been in another language. None of it made sense, none of it stuck.

Your mind kept returning to the past, thinking about the first time you had seen him, when you watched T’Challa imprison him—the baron’s words forever stuck into your consciousness. There was also the moment Bucky decided to break him out of prison, all the time you spent together in the serum’s mission and, then the aftermath: Helmut being escorted to Wakanda’s prison.

Then, there was the night after the cookout in Sam’s community—the same night that Bucky had suggested breaking Helmut out again. It had been so surreal, for sure, the idea sounded too delusional at first.

If someone had told you a few years ago that Bucky Barnes would be the one to advocate for working with Zemo, you’d have laughed. And there you were, in a world where the impossible seemed to happen every day.

Back then, you and Sam had exchanged disbelieving looks, waiting for Bucky to backtrack or admit it was some kind of joke. You didn’t believe that Bucky was the one to come up with the idea, specifically him of all people, and Sam didn’t believe in what their friends were suggesting.

But he wasn't joking. He’d been dead serious, and after the initial shock wore off, neither of you had argued against it.

Because deep down, you knew he was right. Helmut Zemo had become more than just a means to an end to the three of you. He had proven himself to be… More than you had thought about him at first, time and time again, even when none of you had expected him to.

After the fight with the Dora Milajes, as soon as Helmut disappeared, he came back. At the time, you didn’t understand why. At the time, he reasoned by saying it was to finish what you all had started. But, after some years, all of you knew that wasn’t true.

He had grown as attached to you as you had grown attached to him. And neither of you could admit it five years ago.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen tomorrow when you reached Wakanda. Would this be the end? Would Helmut go back to his cell and fade into the background of your lives, just another chapter closed?

You refused to believe that this would be it and that was it.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, and you looked up to see Joaquín approaching. He wasn’t as good at sleeping on missions as Sam and Bucky were. A habit he hadn’t quite grown into yet.

“You’re still awake?” he asked, his voice hushed, though there was no need to whisper in the quiet of the cabin.

By the sound of their snores, you doubted that Sam and Bucky would even awake if the aircraft fell.

You gave Joaquín a small smile, even though your chest felt heavy.

“Sleep isn’t coming easy today, but why are you awake?” you asked him back, “Shouldn’t you be asleep like the others?”

It was way easier to deflect from further questions than elaborate your answers.

Joaquín shrugged, “I’ll sleep when we land,” his eyes drifting to the sleeping figures of Sam and Bucky. “I noticed you were awake, though. Seems like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

That, for sure, was an understatement.

You felt his gaze upon you, but you looked down at the book in your hands, fingers tracing its worn edges. It was better to ignore what he meant by his words than to consider them.

“I guess I do,” you admitted, your voice quieter than usual, “A lot happened today.”

You weren’t about to tell him everything—the things that had been plaguing you since you left the temple, the many scenarios that ran through your mind. How your own thoughts corrupted your conscious and subconscious after every second, the more you dandred about tomorrow.

When you closed your eyes, trying to find some peace, you could swear to hear Chthon’s voice, a faint whisper. But never far enough away.

I’m still here, you can’t ignore me forever. However, you could try and you would.

Joaquín raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering,” he crossed his arms, moving closer to you, “They didn’t tell me much when I came to get you. Just that... It was big. And that...” He hesitated, then lowered his voice even further. “Is it true? The whole thing about you being a... Witch?”

You bit your lip, even now, you were incapable of processing it yourself. Wonder about tomorrow? Yes, that was painful but easier than thinking further about the fact of who you truly were, with the words altogether.

After everything that had happened, it felt strange to hear it out loud from someone else’s mouth.

It didn’t sound real.

“Yeah,” you sighed, closing the book and placing it on your lap. “It’s true. I guess I’ve always been more witch than mutant. I just didn’t know about it until recently.”

Recently slash hours ago.

Your whole life, you had grown believing you were a mutant, and now… You had discovered you were a witch. Maybe, you could have some mutant genes from your ancestors, but it had no effect compared to the bloodline of your biological parents.

Joaquín’s eyes widened, his curiosity barely contained as he sat by your side.

“So... You have magic?” You could truly see how the young man was doing his best to hold back his enthusiasm. “Real magic?” 

A soft chuckle escaped you at his amazement.

You couldn't blame him, your references to magic were full of big names: Magik, Nico Minoru, Dr. Strange, Wanda… In short, it was a long list. It would take you a while to get used to the idea of ​​you being one of them, not on the same level, but part of the same world.

The daughter of a witch and some demoniac god known for his use of chaos magic. What a reputation to have.

“Yeah, magic. Chaos magic.” You agreed, merely nodding as you shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Joaquín leaned back slightly, taking in the revelation. You almost laughed at the light that lit up in his eyes, like a child who had gotten the train set he had been looking for for years.

“And all this time, we thought you were the other big one from the Big Four,” he muttered, his mind somewhere else.

And you had no idea where it was or what he was talking about.

“Big Four?” You asked, “Isn’t it the Big Three? Androids, aliens, and wizards.”

Unfortunately, spending day after day with the boys meant you knew weird and useless things like that. No one referred to the threats you usually faced by that term, but Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin had a strange list of inside jokes and that term was included in it.

Bunch of weirdos.

“No, Big Four,” Joaquín corrected you, as if it was the most obvious fact in the whole world, “Androids, aliens, wizards and superhumans.”

You raised a brow, the term catching you off guard. Superhumans. It made sense since there weren’t only supersoldiers now, but mutants.

You didn’t know what was weirder about it: knowing that behind your back, the boys referred to you as a superhuman or that you would have to grow used to being referred to as a wizard now. As if you were one of the majestic magic users that you all knew.

You didn't even believe you could be labeled as such, you didn't have the same level of knowledge, control over your magic and, well, nothing at all.

The best term for you was: a time bomb that needed experience to not explode. Not 'wizard' nor ‘magic user'.

Joaquín seemed to sense your hesitation, glancing away as if giving you a moment to digest it, “I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone who can do what you do. Chaos magic and…”

You offered a small smile but said nothing. Joaquín’s reaction was almost refreshing—his curiosity a welcome distraction from the heavier thoughts weighing you down, whether you liked it or not. Relieving the stress that plagued your mind, the thousands of thoughts that kept you from closing your eyes… Your heart felt a little lighter.

Joaquín had that effect sometimes. You liked to believe that it was because he was still a kid in this world of heroes in villains in comparison with the rest of you.

He had some of that big shining light you all arrived with when you stepped into that world.

“And Helmut?” Joaquín’s question caught you off guard, the shift in topic unexpected. But unavoidable.

And quickly, that peace was gone.

“What about him?” you asked, though you knew what Joaquín was getting at.

At least, now calmer, you didn't feel the ties in your heart every time you tried to put into words what you were thinking. What you were thinking about that subject.

You had more courage to talk about it with Joaquín than with the subject himself.

You looked over at Helmut again, still seated in the shadows, his figure barely moving, as if he were part of the night itself. In deep sleep, you almost smiled at him, he looked so serene.

Joaquín tilted his head, his gaze following yours as you glanced back toward Helmut, "You don’t just spend five years with someone and walk away like it never happened, right?"

The air seemed to thicken at his words, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at Helmut’s still form. Soon, he would be behind bars one more time, and you doubted you would see him again after that.

Today and the next morning would be the last time you would have to see him, talk to him.

“No,” finally, you said, your voice barely a whisper. “You don’t.”

Five years was a long time, you’d seen sides of Helmut no one else had—vulnerabilities he would never admit to others, not even to himself. But you had seen them since day one, or suspected what they were.

The Baron was a man who hid who he was, layers beneath the cold, calculating mask. Never showing the cards he had under his sleeves, never opening his chest and showing if he had a heart. Always too far away, in his own thoughts, back to his past.

You had never thought that man would disappear. That mission after mission, conversation after conversation and glance after glance, he would start to tear away the pieces that made him the Baron. And after all this time, his mask was nothing more than cracked wood and that there would be Helmut behind it, showing who he was to you and only you.

By you, you meant you and the boys, of course.

Joaquín nodded slightly. He shifted on his feet, "Doesn’t seem like you’re ready to say goodbye."

You let out a bitter laugh, though it lacked humor, "I guess no one ever is."

Joaquín gave you a look, sympathy and understanding behind his gaze, and you could almost hear the words stuck in his mind but unable to be said: But it’s harder for you, isn’t it?

You didn’t need to answer it. The silence that followed was enough.

The aircraft's hum filled the space again, giving you both a moment to let the conversation breathe. Joaquín shifted again, his hand absently tracing the edge of his seat, clearly unsure of what to say next.

He tilted his head, glancing at you with a softness that almost made you feel exposed.

"You don’t have to explain it to me, you know. Whatever’s going on with you and Helmut—it’s yours. I just... I just wanted to know if you’re okay with all this.”

Were you okay with it? Could you ever really be okay with letting Helmut go? Be okay about closing this chapter of your life? The thought made your chest tighten.

You didn’t need to ask any of these questions to yourself. Since the moment Joaquín had told you what was coming, you already had their answers.

After a long pause, you exhaled.

"I’m not sure,” the words slipped out before you could fully process them. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you felt a strange sense of relief. You didn’t need to pretend with Joaquín—not here, not now. He wouldn’t push for answers you didn’t have or felt uncomfortable sharing.

Joaquín offered you a gentle nudge with his shoulder, "Well, you’ve got some time to figure it out. Just... Don’t beat yourself up too much, okay?"

That was a hard thing to ask.

“I know,” you just didn’t know if you would be able to.

Still, you smiled at him, trying to reassure him. He didn’t need to say anything else, his presence alone was enough to help you, to remind you that it was okay to not be okay about it.Joaquín stood up slowly, stretching before giving you one last, knowing glance.

“I’ll leave you to your book,” he said lightly, before making his way back to the cockpit, the conversation fading into the soft murmur of the aircraft blades once more.

You watched him go, your thoughts still following you wherever you went, but they were less noisy now. You were left alone with the book in your hands, the words blurring on the page as your mind stubbornly wandered to the man sleeping in the shadows.

There was no peaceful way to resolve what lay ahead.

Would this be the last time you saw him like this? The thought haunted you, gnawing at the edges of your resolve, you already knew it would be, but it didn’t hurt less.

How could you just let him go back to a prison cell? How could you pretend it wouldn’t change everything?

Your fingers traced the edge of the book in your lap, the worn leather cover a poor distraction from the churning thoughts that refused to settle. You tried to focus on anything else, the dark expanse of sky outside the window, the steady rhythm of your breathing—but it was futile. Your mind always circled back to the same question.

Did Helmut still want to go back there? Five years ago, it was his only wish.

He hadn’t said much since Joaquín had mentioned the Wakandan's request. He had stayed silent, as he always did, keeping his cards close to his chest. Part of you wanted to ask him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. But the other part—the part that had always been cautious—feared what his answer might be.

“You’ll wear yourself out thinking like that.”

You blinked, startled, your gaze snapping to Helmut, who was now very much awake and sitting beside you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. His voice was quiet, soft.

But there was an edge to it. The kind of edge that came with knowing.

He knew exactly what you were thinking.

"Helmut..." Suddenly, all the questions you had been avoiding felt impossible to ignore, “You… Are awake.”

It was the least stupid thing you could have said among the others begging to be gotten out of your mind.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp, even in the darkness.

"So are you,” he said, his gaze fixed on you in that way he had—like he could see through every wall you put up, “and quiet, that’s not like you."

"I could say the same about you," you replied instantly.

He let out a small, humorless chuckle, leaning back in his seat.

"I’ve learned to be quiet when it matters."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken things.

"I just..." you began, hesitating, unsure how to put the thoughts swirling in your head into words. "I keep thinking about tomorrow. About what will happen next."

His gaze didn’t waver, but you saw something flicker in his eyes—something he tried to hide.

"You mean my return to Wakanda?" he asked bluntly, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something beneath it, “I always knew this day would come. That I would have to go back.”

"But do you want to?" 

You felt raw, exposed, but you needed to know.

After everything you had been through together, did he still want to return to that cell?

His silence stretched between you, the only sound the steady hum of the aircraft. When he finally spoke, his eyes set upon you.

"What I want..." he began, his voice low, "isn’t what matters. There are things we cannot change and there are debts we must pay."

You glanced at him back, not taking his answer as true. Why did he have to be like this? So enigmatic.

It was a yes or no question, why did he always have to make it difficult?

"You’ve always believed that," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "How people should pay for their sins."

"And they should," he replied, his gaze locking with yours. "Do you disagree?"

You hesitated, remembering everything that had happened over the last five years—every battle, every sacrifice.

Sam and Bucky flashed in your mind, the moments where each of you had faced impossible choices, where the lines between right and wrong blurred. You had seen foes who were more than villains, people trapped in cycles of pain, anger, and grief—reminders of the complexity of it all.

"I don’t disagree," you said slowly, "but I don’t think it’s that simple either. People aren’t always driven by bad intentions, Helmut. There is anger, injustice, loneliness, guilt…" 

His expression didn’t change, but you could sense the shift in him, "You still see hope where others see ruin."

His fingers briefly brushed against his temple, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his expression—a hint of a smile that never fully formed. The tension between you felt heavy, like a palpable force, but there was also something softer there now.

You held his gaze, refusing to let him retreat into himself like he so often did.

“And what makes you think you’re beyond saving?” you asked quietly, the challenge in your words unmistakable.

He blinked, his brow furrowing slightly, and for the first time, you saw the uncertainty in his eyes. It was subtle, just a brief hesitation, but it was there.

Helmut, always so sure of himself, was suddenly unsure.

“But for the last five years, you’ve been helping us—choosing to stay when you didn’t have to. And why? Why did you stay?” You continued, nonetheless, your voice steady. “None of that makes you seem like a man who’s given up.”

He sighed, his fingers brushing lightly over his knuckles, a gesture you’d come to recognize as a sign of his restlessness.

"Perhaps I stayed for selfish reasons," he said, his tone more contemplative. "Perhaps I needed to believe that I could still have a purpose. That all of this—everything I’ve done—wasn’t for nothing."

You leaned forward slightly, refusing to let him retreat into the walls he always built around himself.

"You stayed because you cared,” You brought your hand closer to his, letting it rest on his knuckles. He frowned at you and would say something before you interrupted him, “Don’t tell me I’m lying, you know I’m not. You care, don’t pretend it doesn’t matter, it does."

Helmut’s gaze dropped to where your hand rested on his, the touch gentle but grounding. His fingers twitched beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. His expression softened, a vulnerability he rarely allowed to surface.

But with you, lately, it was becoming a habit.

"I don’t know if it matters," he said quietly, almost as if he were testing the words.

You squeezed his hand lightly, urging him to continue. "It does, Helmut. You didn’t stay because you had no choice. You stayed because you wanted to. I know you, you don’t do anything you don’t want to."

His eyes met yours again, and for a brief moment, you saw a crack in the armor he wore so carefully. He took a deep breath, as though he was trying to find the right words, trying to find a way to explain what he himself hadn’t fully processed.

"I don’t know what I want anymore," he admitted, "For so long, I’ve been driven by a single purpose. Revenge, justice and now…"

He trailed off, his voice dipping, and you could see the conflict in his expression, as if standing at a crossroads and not knowing which path to follow into.

"You’re not the same man you were," you said, tightening your hand in his. "And you don’t have to be. You’ve proven that you’re capable of more than just revenge."

Helmut let out another brief, humorless chuckle, "You make it sound so simple."

"It’s not simple," you corrected yourself, gently. "But it’s a choice. And I need to know if you want to stay, or if you want to go back." You paused. "I need to hear it from you."

His breath hitched slightly, and he shifted, clearly grappling with the question.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his eyes scanning your face back. You were looking for an answer while he… You weren’t sure, relief? Courage? Whatever he was searching as he gazed at you, it looked like he had found it.

"You ask me what I want," he began slowly. "But wanting something doesn’t mean it’s possible. I want to believe I can move past what I’ve done, I want to believe I can help you, Sam and Bucky without my past dragging me down."

You pressed your lips into a tight line, you could see the internal battle raging behind his eyes—everything he had done and his desire to find peace. True peace, not the temporary one.

It wasn’t easy for him to say these things, to let his walls down. But you knew that admitting it was his first step. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded rougher than before.

"I lost everything when I lost my family," he said quietly, as if the words were for him more than for you, "My wife, my son, my father, my home... It wasn’t just Sokovia that was destroyed—it was my whole life. I didn’t see a reason to keep going, I didn’t think I could live in this world anymore."

His voice cracked slightly, and you could feel the depth of the wounds that loss and grief had carved in him, "They were my purpose, and when they were gone, I thought there was nothing left for me."

"You’ve spent so long believing that there’s nothing else left," you whispered, the sincerity of your words cutting through the lingering silence. "But there is, Helmut. It may be hard to see it, it takes us time, but I hope you find it someday."

You waited, watching him closely as your words got into the machines working inside his head. His brows furrowed and you almost could see smoke escaping from his ears, as if he was resisting the idea.

But you could see the cracks forming in his resolve. For so long, he had those weights binding his feet and holding him back, it was difficult to imagine anything different. Or to confess any of the ideas that he entertained in his imagination.

“And who said I hadn’t?” he asked, holding your hand back, “I just don’t know if I deserve it.”

He had built walls, brick by brick. And now, here you were, trying to crumble it down and suggesting there could be more for him.

“I’m not asking if you think yourself worth it, Helmut. I’m asking if you want to stay."

There was a long pause, his gaze locking with yours as he processed your real question. You could see the gears turning and squeaking in his head, the past pulling him in one direction, while another thing pulled him in another. Hope? Yearning?

For a long time, he had clung to the idea that there was nothing left for him, that his path had been set in stone the moment he lost his family. The notion of moving forward was foreign to him. But you could sense his hesitation, the slight crack in the armor he had kept around himself all these years.

And then, you saw it. There was the man behind the armor with all his bruises and scars.

It wasn’t a brief vision, he was in flesh and bones behind those brown eyes.

"I don’t want to go back," he admitted, his voice resolute. You saw the walls around him falling, piece by piece. "But we both know that I can’t stay."

It panged your heart, that was true. The world had been too cruel to him, had taken too much, and even though he had found a place with you, with Sam and Bucky, the burden of his past was a heavy one.

There was nothing that he or you could do about it, no matter how much you could try. His actions had brought him consequences that would follow him even if he no longer was the same man who had orchestrated them.

"You can’t, but I don’t want you to go either," you whispered, your heart racing as the distance between you seemed to close. "I wished that you had changed your mind and wanted to stay, even if it meant you would wish for something you can’t."

That was the least you could do: to not leave his side until it was time.

Helmut’s gaze softened, his hand moving to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin. There was a tenderness there, something you had come to recognize in him, but only when the world around you had quieted. It was in these rare, quiet moments that he allowed himself to show the sad happiness that harbored in his heart.

Once, you had thought his tender side was something that he only revealed to you after the airship, inside the hut. However, the more you pushed your mind back through the past five years, the more you realized he always had shown you.

Since the beginning. You were just too blind to see it, or believe it.

"I stayed because I wanted to believe I could be more than what I was," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Even if it meant that once I had achieved it, I would be sent back to my cell. I just do not know if I achieved that."

"You had, Helmut," you replied, your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. "You always had the potential to be more than a man with thick skin."

The silence between you thickened with what you had stuck in your throats, the tension palpable in the air. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, as if caught between saying it or not, all the words tangling in his chest.

For the briefest moment, a flicker of something crossed his face—you were still unsure if it was hope or yearning. A quiet feeling he had long thought lost.

But it was fleeting behind his eyes, as a flame resists the wind. And then, you saw it, he traveled back to his past and a sob escaped from his throat.

"I… I do not know if I will ever stop missing them," he confessed, his voice fragile, like the words themselves might break him. "But I am starting to understand… You were right. They wouldn’t want my life to be consumed by their loss. They would want me to be more than that—way more."

You smiled softly, your thumb gently stroking the back of his hand, “They must be proud then, because you already are, Helmut. Believe me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his thumb continuing to brush your skin, a gesture that felt as though he was grounding himself in your presence, making sure you were real and still there. When his eyes opened again, the guardedness that usually defined him had completely faded, leaving something softer, something freer in his gaze.

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand against your cheek comforting, and you felt the tight knot of tension in your chest slowly begin to loosen as well. Helmut had become a presence you never anticipated—steady, constant, and grounding.

From the beginning, there had been something between you. A strange sense of familiarity, like you’d known him far longer than the years you had spent together. Usually, you were someone who kept your walls high, when someone asked what had happened, you were incapable of putting into words—so you lied. But with Helmut… It was different.

With him, everything was always different.

Since the mission in Madripoor, then Riga, those walls had started to crumble, day by day, piece by piece. For some reason, with him, you had no fear of admitting fractions of what was rushing inside your mind. You had let him in more than you realized at the time.

And now, after all you had been through, here he was, letting you see the vulnerabilities he had kept so tightly guarded, exposing parts of himself that even he might not have understood.

In the quiet between you, a thought settled into your mind, clear and undeniable: you had trusted him long before you ever admitted it to yourself. Long before that night in the hut, long before Wakanda, before Riga. It had always been there.

Helmut broke the silence first, his voice so quiet you almost had to strain to hear it.

"I need to say it," he began, the vulnerability in his tone startling, "I didn’t think I could ever care about anything again." He paused, his hand trembling slightly against your cheek. "But being here, with you, with them... For the first time, I believe there’s more out there for me to explore."

"There’s always more, Helmut. And you deserve to discover it all." You whispered, the intensity of your emotions swelling inside you, “I just wish I could discover it all with you, if you had me.”

The man who had once believed in nothing but vengeance felt so distant now. The man in front of you was miles away from the bitter, angry figure you had first met. But even as he opened up to you, that core part of him remained—the part that believed people were corruptible, that power could expose the darkest parts of someone's soul.

Helmut still clung to that philosophy: justice was blind, and sometimes, someone had to guide it.

Yet, it wasn’t as absolute as it had once been. His encounters with you, Sam, and Bucky had cracked that certainty. You could see it in his eyes, a subtle wariness.

He had once believed that his way was the only way—that destroying those who wielded power would bring balance. But now? Now, there was something softer, something that questioned the starkness of his past views. He didn’t regret all of that, just small acts that he could have prevented.

The thing was, for the first time, he was starting to believe that there were people who could change for the better. Including himself.

"I do, I would," he whispered back to you, his voice barely holding together.

A weak smile tugged at your lips as you whispered, "Maybe one day."

His eyes locked onto yours, searching, as if testing the truth of your words. Slowly, you saw the tension in his frame begin to melt away, like a weight he’d carried for too long finally easing. The guarded man you had come to know was letting himself be vulnerable in a way he hadn’t before, finding a kind of peace that hadn’t existed in him for years.

You could almost hear the sound of an armor falling against the ground, the metal banging against the floor in a prolonged ring.

"For as long as you have me, mein schatz," Helmut breathed, his voice barely reaching your ears.

The question lingered in the air, even if it was not made as a question, for sure sounded like one.

"And for as long as you have me," you whispered back.

His gaze was unwavering, holding yours in that silent exchange you both had come to understand. For so long, words had gone unsaid, and yet, in this moment, everything felt crystal clear.

Helmut’s hand moved to rest over yours again, his touch hesitant, as if testing the boundaries of what this moment could mean. You felt a surge of warmth bloom in your chest, your heartbeat syncing with the tension that crackled between you both.

You could also hear your own armor falling against the ground beneath your feet, echoing between your ears.

Helmut’s breath caught, his thumb brushing across your knuckles, the tiniest gesture, but it sent a ripple through you. You had never been good at letting yourself feel this way—vulnerable, exposed. But with him, everything was different.

You leaned in slightly, your forehead pressing gently against his, your lips hovering just a breath away. Neither of you had to say it out loud, but the silence spoke volumes itself.

This was the culmination of five years, of quiet, unspoken truths lingering between every step you took, every decision you made.

"Six hours..." he murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, bittersweet smile.

"Then let’s not waste another second," you smiled, the tension between you two finally snapping.

And then, as naturally as breathing, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. It wasn’t hurried, nor was it desperate, just an honest expression of everything you’d held back for so long.

For once, on that night, you didn’t worry about what you would see or hear once you closed your eyes, you just did—you closed your eyes and let yourself finally feel.

Helmut’s hand cradled your cheek tightly as the kiss deepened, the years of restraint melting away in the warmth of the moment. There was a softness to the way he held you, as though afraid you might disappear when he opened his eyes again.

You could taste the ghost of his past in that kiss, feel the heaviness of everything he had carried for so long, but there was something else too—yearning, a desire to seize the life he had once believed he would never be able to appreciate. 

When you finally pulled back, just a fraction, your forehead rested against his once more, your breaths mingling in the space between you.

"Whatever time we have," you whispered, your voice shaky, "it’s enough."

Helmut exhaled softly, his thumb still gently caressing your cheek as if reassuring himself that you were still there. His brown eyes, once so wary, now softened with an emotion he had spent years hiding away. You could see it all now—the regret, the hope, the silent promise that he would stay, even if the world was pulling him in another direction.

It wasn’t one emotion, but a collection of them ready to be shown, all of them in their due time.

In the quiet, as the aircraft hummed around you, the future felt uncertain, but for now, in this moment, you had each other. And that was enough.

Until six hours passed by the clock and the air inside the interrogation room felt stifling, even though you sat calmly at the long table, flanked by Sam and Bucky. Across from you, Ayo and the others Dora Milajes stood firm, their expressions unreadable, but the tension was there. An inch away from all of you.

Helmut sat at the far end of the table, his posture composed as always, though you could see the subtle stress in his frame. His eyes flickered toward you for a moment, but the pressure of the situation pinned down any silent communication you might’ve shared. This was it—the moment when he’d be back to his cell while you, Sam and Bucky would continue with your lives.

You clenched your fists under the table, biting back the sense of helplessness. It didn’t matter what any of you felt; this had been inevitable from the start. You had known this when you’d second broken him out. Still, that didn’t make it easier.

Joaquín was right, you didn’t just spend five years with someone and walk away like it never happened. You would continue with your lives but you would forever be followed by the millions of memories that you had created together. Something that the elders never tell you was how a friendship forged from hate to companionship was the one who hurt the more once parted away.

You were hurt, but Sam and Bucky? They could have told you little about the subject, but you knew all too well how they were wounded. More than you, neither of them thought they would grow attached to the ex-criminal, and there you were, incapable of dropping his hand.

And there you were.

Ayo’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and direct. “Baron Zemo will be returned to Wakanda to serve the remainder of his sentence, as per our agreement. Are there any objections?”

The words were final, like a judge laying down a sentence. You glanced at Helmut, waiting for his response. But he stayed quiet, staring down at his hands, his composure unbroken.

But then, he spoke.

“If there were a way…” Helmut began, his voice measured, calm, yet filled with reasoned fear. “If there were a way to continue with them—Sam, Bucky, and... Her—would you consider an alternative?”

Ayo’s expression hardened at his words, her lips pressing into a thin line as she weighed the situation. Her eyes flicked to Sam and Bucky, then back to Helmut. The straining in the room rose another notch, a silent warning.

She was seconds away from shutting him down, reminding him of the agreement, the promise they had made to return him to Wakanda. But Helmut didn’t back down.

His voice remained calm, respectful but firm.

“I understand the weight of the agreement, Ayo. I know what I owe.” He paused, his gaze unwavering as he met hers. “But if I may, I ask for just a moment to speak.”

You frowned, this wasn’t just another calculated move. There was something rough beneath it. Ayo, despite her stoic demeanor, seemed to catch on to that as well. She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes narrowing further as she considered his request.

“Speak,” she finally said, her voice cold, but she gave him permission. “But make it quick.”

Helmut exhaled softly, and you could see a hint of relief cross his features before he masked it behind that familiar calm exterior. He straightened in his seat, his posture shifting ever so slightly as he began.

“I know what I did. The sins of my past cannot be undone. I once believed that what I was doing was the right thing, avenging my family, tearing apart the Avengers, seeking balance where there was none.” His voice was low, measured, but you could feel the weight of every word. “But time... Time has a way of showing you things you didn’t expect to see.”

He glanced at you for just a heartbeat, the moment fleeting, before his gaze returned to Ayo.

“When I first worked with them, it was out of necessity. I had nothing left. I was a man driven only by the need to end what I believed was a threat. But over the past five years, I have learned there is more to this world than pain.”

Ayo’s expression remained steely, but she didn’t interrupt. She was listening.

“I regret many things,” Helmut continued, his voice softening. “None of them related to the avenge of my family, but little actions that I could have prevented or went in another direction. Including the death of your king.”

The name of the Wakandan king—T’Chaka—hung like a blade among everyone in the room, heavy with the reminder of his loss upon the reign. You could feel the palpable shift in the atmosphere, the ripple of emotions passing through Ayo and the Dora Milaje at the mention of their king.

T’Chaka’s death was a delicate wound, one that had never fully healed for Wakanda. There was a reason for Helmut's obligation to return to his prison.

“I was blinded by my grief,” Helmut continued, his voice steady but lined with regret. “I wanted to destroy those responsible for my family and home’s death, and in doing so, I became the very thing I hate most. The pain I caused… It’s something I carry with me every day. And I am truly sorry for the part I played in your king’s death.”

Ayo’s eyes flickered, a small crack in her stoic exterior. Her grip on the table tightened, “You were the whole part, Baron.”

“I know,” Helmut sighed, his torment never leaving his voice nor eyes, “I am not asking for forgiveness. I know what I’ve done, and I have paid, and will continue to pay for it.”

The silence that followed his admission was thick, fuming over the table like a storm about to break. Ayo’s gaze remained fixed on Helmut, her expression a stone mask of discipline.

She was listening, but there was no forgiveness in her eyes—only duty. If Helmut gave her an excuse, she would kill him in his very seat.

“In the past, I believed that I was serving justice,” Helmut continued, each word deliberate, as if measured against the inevitable consequences. “I see now that I was blinded by my own pain. The death of your king, of T’Chaka, is something I will carry with me until my last breath. And I know that I can never undo that, it was a means to an end that I can only wish I had never opted.”

He paused, glancing at Sam and Bucky, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. You noticed how Sam’s expression was unreadable, while Bucky’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. The room was brimming with tension, with all eyes locked on Helmut.

Every one of you was waiting for what he would say next.

“I believed I was correcting a wrong,” Helmut continued, furrowing his brows. “But all I did was create another. And for that, I am deeply regretful. But... If there is one thing I’ve learned in these past years, it’s that sometimes redemption isn’t found in isolation. It’s found in what we do next, in how we face the challenges ahead.”

He shifted his gaze to Ayo, his expression unyielding but sincere.

“That is why I ask—if you will allow me—to remain with them,” Helmut’s voice was low, silently pleading. “There are still threats in this world, dangers that we have only begun to confront. I can still be of use to them, and in doing so, perhaps find some semblance of redemption.”

Ayo’s eyes narrowed, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She stood silent for a long moment, her fingers curling tighter around the table’s edge, her posture rigid.

Her gaze flickered briefly toward you, Sam, and Bucky, then back to Helmut. The decision she faced wasn’t just about law or justice—it was about the future, the bigger picture, and whether or not to gamble on the possibility of redemption for a man who had taken so much from her people.

You had shared your time with Helmut, you had seen his true self. Wakanda hadn’t. And, honestly, even if they had, would it still be right for them to erase the loss of their king only to free a man who wounded their reign?

“No matter how sorrowful you are now, Zemo,” Ayo said, her voice cold but steady. Her jaw clenched, her eyes locking onto Helmut with a fierce intensity, “You have committed a crime against Wakanda, and you must pay for it. I allowed you to assist them, not because of mercy, but because I understand the depth of your expertise against forces that threaten us all. But know this—your debt is far from paid. The selfish forces you’ve helped defeat don’t absolve you of what you did to us.”

Her words echoed through the room, cold and final, and you felt the sharpness of them settle in your chest. Helmut remained silent, though you could see the hope leaving his eyes, replaced by something quieter—acceptance. His expression didn’t falter, but there was a resignation in the way his shoulders subtly dropped. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. He had known all along that he couldn’t escape his past.

He had always known this moment would come, that the weight of his past sins wouldn’t be easily cast aside. The loss of King T’Chaka, the devastation he’d wrought—not even him would be able to let him go, the pain all too familiar.

In the silence, you caught the faintest tremor of doubt in Helmut’s eyes, the kind that comes when a man realizes he might never outrun the ghosts of his past.

It was inevitable, but you had wished that it wasn’t. The pain in your chest carving you apart despite your will to hold yourself upright.

“Wait,” Sam’s voice cut through as a dagger would cut flesh. The suddenness of it jolted everyone, pulling the air from the room. His tone was calm, but there was an undeniable intensity behind it. “Ayo, with all due respect, the deal was that Zemo would stay with us until we dealt with the threats. But the threats aren’t over. We’ve still got a lot of work to do, and we need all the help we can get.”

Sam’s words weren’t just a defense of Helmut—they were a reminder of the larger picture, you still had to go back to Strange and tell him more about what had happened in the last days. You had already sent him a message summarizing everything but you were sure that soon he would require your presence for a better conversation about everything that had happened.

Far from what you all knew about the world of wizards and magic and everything related to it, there was always more.

So, there was no denying the truth in Sam’s statement—the world wasn’t safe yet, not by a long shot.

Ayo’s jaw clenched as she narrowed her gaze at Sam’s interruption. The room was buzzing with tension, everyone waiting to see which way she would lean. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady but laced with ice.

“The deal was made to serve justice, not prolong his freedom,” she said. “The threats you speak of have been defeated. Zemo served his purpose. His place is in a cell.”

For a moment, it felt like the verdict had been decided, that nothing Sam, Bucky, or even you could say would change her mind. But something clicked in your head—a realization.

You took a breath, stepping forward and gathering your courage, “We never specified what those threats were.”

Ayo’s eyes snapped to you, her brow furrowing as if you’d just insulted her, “Come again?”

And you went. How, until today, you don’t know.

“When we made the deal, we didn’t list the exact threats we wanted to eliminate. We left it open. Chtolon was only a part of a much bigger problem. We still don’t know if there are more threats out there, and if we send Helmut back now, we will lose a valuable asset in that fight.” you clarified, already fearing that your words had been the sentence for the Dora Milajes to behead you and your friends.

Her face tightened, the hard lines of her expression deepening as she processed your words. For sure, she was pondering to behead you indeed.

“The threats we face aren’t just the ones we’ve already fought,” you pressed. “There are more out there. And Helmut has the knowledge we need to stay ahead. If we send him back now, we’re weakening our chances.”

Ayo remained silent, but her eyes were burning with an intensity that made it clear she was not easily swayed. She glanced at Sam and Bucky, then back at you, and finally, her gaze rested on Helmut.

“You speak of unspecified threats,” Ayo said, harshly. “But that does not absolve him of his crimes.”

“I’m not asking for absolution,” Helmut added, his voice quieter now, but no less sincere. “I know what I’ve done. But if I can use my knowledge to stop what’s coming, then perhaps... I can start to make up for it.”

Ayo’s gaze remained sharp, but there was hesitation in her eyes. She took a breath, and when she spoke again, you felt like a blade was near your neck.

“The deal may have been unclear,” she said slowly. “But understand this—Zemo’s freedom will not be indefinite. The moment these threats are dealt with, he returns to Wakanda. No exceptions. And if he steps out of line even once, we will take him ourselves.”

Ayo’s final words settled heavily over the room, but there was a shared sense of relief, a small victory—Zemo’s fate wasn’t sealed, not completely. The tension that had been straining the room seemed to ease slightly, but the pressure of the responsibility loomed larger than ever. You couldn’t ignore the tight knot of uncertainty in your chest, knowing this was only a temporary solution.

Helmut, for the first time, allowed a breath of relief to escape his lips. His eyes flicked toward you, then to Sam and Bucky. Though he didn’t speak, there was a silent acknowledgment, a gratitude that passed between you all. And yet, you felt the stiffness beneath his calm exterior.

“I think we’re done here,” Ayo said firmly, stepping back from the table. The Dora Milajes remained poised, ever watchful, but it was clear that—for now—there would be no further argument. “But remember, this is not a pardon. This is a postponement.”

Sam nodded in agreement, though his expression was hard to read.

“We appreciate the consideration,” he replied, but you knew Sam too well. He was just as aware as you were that this wasn’t truly the end of the conflict.

The larger battle was still up, not just with external enemies but within yourselves—especially for Baron Zemo.

As Ayo’s gaze lingered on Helmut, you couldn’t help the sharp pang in your chest. You had spent so much time alongside him, seeing past the man who had once only been driven by vengeance. But now, in this moment, you realized how fragile his freedom truly was.

You didn’t know how long you had before Wakanda’s patience would run out. That knowledge settled over you like a heavy weight that you didn’t know you would ever be able to lift.

The Wakandans left the room in silence, the door shutting with a soft thud. Only the four of you remained. The tension, while less intense, didn’t fully dissipate.

Helmut exhaled slowly, his hand resting on the edge of the table, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood absently.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever breathe free air again,” he said in a whisper, almost to himself.

You glanced at him, a mix of relief and concern swirling inside you despite the pain in your chest. You had fought for this moment, but even now, you weren’t sure what came next. You wanted to believe that Helmut could find his way, that he could become more than what he once was.

But part of you feared that the world wouldn’t let him.

Sam’s lips quirked into a small smile, “Well, you’re not out of the woods yet.”

All of you were well aware of that, you weren’t the only one with those thoughts eating you alive.

“No,” Helmut agreed, his voice low. “But I suppose I have you all to thank for delaying the inevitable.”

Bucky, who had been silent for most of the conversation, piped up.

“Don’t thank us yet.” His voice was gruff, but you could hear the softness beneath the rough exterior, “We’ve still got work to do.”

A lot of work you had indeed.

The towering bookshelves of Strange Academy stretched up to the ceiling, each one filled with ancient tomes of magic, knowledge, and power. You’d been here before, but this time, the air felt different. There was an unmistakable thickness, a reminder of the power that lay within the walls.

Raw magic all over the place. And, for the first time, you could feel all of it in its true form.

Joaquín’s face had been lit up in excitement when you first returned after the conversation with the Dora Milaje. He suggested celebrating, but that idea quickly faded as Strange called you to meet him here, in this very room.

It was difficult for any of you to have a single moment of peace for too long.

Beside you, Wong was explaining something about the Darkhold. Strange, always poised, was going through a series of magical texts, muttering under his breath as he examined their contents. Wanda stood nearby, quietly observing, her presence a reminder of just how far you had come from the battle in Sokovia, a young adult still trying to understand what was your place in this world to the woman who had fight and trapped the eldritch demon-god slash father and discovered the truth about your powers.

Yet, what lingered from the young girl was the uncertainty of what you should do next in your life.

“Wait, let’s see if I’m understanding this correctly,” Bucky interrupted Wong, his brows furrowed in confusion. His expression mirrored your own—Wong might as well have been speaking an entirely foreign language. “There are other pages from the Darkhold scattered around the world? I thought you destroyed the whole book.”

He turned to Wanda, who was stoically reading from what looked like a very old journal. Bucky’s tone wasn’t accusatory, and Wanda, knowing him well by now, didn’t take it as such. She glanced up briefly, her expression unchanged.

“I did,” she confirmed, her Sokovian accent adding a distinct weight to her words. “But after everything you told Stephen, we started looking into records—anything with even the smallest connection to the Darkhold’s history, trying to understand what could have happened.”

“It seems,” Dr. Strange chimed in, his voice thoughtful as his eyes briefly met Wanda’s before turning to the group, “Some of the pages acted as a sort of... Exhaust valve. Only the ones used in imprisoning the Elder Gods were affected.” He paused, his gaze sharpening as he continued. “Though ‘imprison’ isn’t the right word—those pages were more like gateways. They allowed humans to contact these beings and try to forge pacts with them, no matter where these gods resided.”

Helmut crossed his arms, his brow furrowing as he shot Strange a skeptical glance. “What do you mean by trying? Sounds like a dangerous game to me.”

Wong took a step forward, elaborating,

“Take Chthon as an example. He isn’t someone you can control. These gods... They're dangerous, unpredictable. Anyone trying to make deals with them is playing with their life. They won't just get hurt; they'll lose everything."

As Wong spoke, you remembered the feeling of Chthon almost consuming you. Facing that, you’d seen how close you were to losing control, to losing yourself. Knowing others like him could still be out there—that someone could try to summon them—it sent a shiver down your spine.

Wanda moved closer, flipping through the pages of the old journal before holding it up for you to see. Her fingers traced the images of twisted figures, their monstrous forms etched into the parchment.

“There are others like him,” she began. “Others who see humanity as tools, as playthings. And through the enchantments in these pages, they can be bound. Their power is available to anyone reckless enough to seek them out.”

Sam stepped forward, brows furrowed, “So what? These pages are like some messed-up genie lamp?”

“In a way,” she said, handing you the journal. “But this is worse. These beings can’t be controlled—only bound temporarily.”

“This I think all of us were capable of catching,” Helmut muttered, walking up close to Sam, taking a glance at the pages the man was reading as well.

A chill ran down your spine as you processed what was being said. The gods you had encountered, the darkness that had nearly consumed you—this was no mere game of wishes. It was something much more sinister, more insidious.

Helmut’s eyes narrowed, clearly deep in thought.

“And these pages are still out there?” he asked quietly, his gaze drifting from the pages to Strange, Wong and Wanda.

Strange nodded, “Unfortunately, yes. We believe the pages are scattered, lost across dimensions and realms. They’ve been hidden for a reason, but with the right tools—or enough desperation—someone could still find them.”

You exchanged a glance with Helmut, then Sam and Bucky. The room was silent, save for the faint rustle of pages as Sam flipped through the book in his hands. The reality of what lay ahead was starting to sink in.

“Well, who wrote these enchantments?” you asked, turning to Wong, “I assume it was not Chthon, he would never write something that put himself at risk of being caught in a pact that would not be beneficial for him. If we find the person, perhaps we could discover how these valves work and how to locate them.”

Wong’s silence was loud. His eyes flickered briefly to Strange and Wanda, as if he was weighing if it was a good idea or not to say what he was about to say.

“Chthon didn’t write these specific enchantments,” he agreed, clearly reluctant, “They were added later, by someone else.”

Your heart stilled. The ominous in his words encouraged you into trying to decipher the insinuation that lingered there.

Wanda stepped closer, her gaze softening as if she was preparing you for the blow, “These pages... They were written by your mother.”

That was a punch to the gut, leaving you momentarily breathless. The room seemed to blur around you, your world narrowing down to those words.

Your mother.

When Wanda said your mother’s name next, it was like listening to the beginning of a ghost story. Because, that was always how you had pictured your real mother in your life: as a ghost. An unknown face and person.

And, now? Now, her name carried an even heavier haunted aura than before.

“My mother?” The words slipped out, half-question, half-disbelief. How could the woman you barely remembered—the mother you'd never really known—be even more tied to all of this? “She wrote the enchantments?”

Wanda nodded slowly, "She didn’t mean for this to happen. Chthon tore at her mind, twisted her intentions, but her goal was to protect us. To protect you."

The silence that followed felt too loud in your head. When you were young, sometimes you would play pretend and imagine how your mother was.

She was a figure in your life you’d held at a distance, a ghost from a past you’d long decided to forget. But now? Now you had her magic inside you. Her choices had shaped the very chaos you fought against, even if it wasn’t intentional.

There was nothing that you or her could have done, it just happened.

Wong interjected, sensing the initial distress in your face,“She didn’t write the entire book, but the parts about the escape valves that govern the Elder Gods. She was one of the most powerful witches of her time—one of the last white witches beside your late aunt—but toward the end of her life, her mind... Broke.”

White… What? It was a really good question but, now, you were too sunk in your own thoughts to consider it.

The more you thought about it all, the more you felt the air leave your lungs completely. You were incapable of facing any of your friends, you only maintained your eyes to the Scarlet Witch and Supreme Sorcerer.

It made you feel less judged. Even if a great part of the judgment you felt over your shoulder came from yourself and no one else.

All that mess, all the problems you had been facing and would face in the future, it was your family’s fault. You couldn't stop yourself to wonder what your friends were thinking about you. Your mother hadn’t just disappeared from your life—she had left behind a legacy of destruction, one you and your friends were now tasked with unraveling.

Helmut, who had been standing quietly next to you, reached out. His hand settled gently on your shoulder.

“She was caught in something beyond her control,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. "Don’t let this consume you."

Yet, it was easier than done. Helmut’s hand remained steady on your shoulder, but your thoughts felt anything but.

The revelations about your mother—that woman you had never met until today—was unraveling everything you thought you understood about your past. It was almost impossible to wrap your mind around the idea that her actions, intentional or not, had led all of you to this tangled web of chaos.

Every time you figured that a fraction of your past was a lie, the world around you became smaller and smaller.

"I don’t know if I can..." you finally answered Helmut, gathering the courage to say something to him, anything really.

"You can." His hand tightened just slightly, offering a reassurance that was hard to ignore, "This is not a legacy, nor a burden. But, it's your choice what you do with it now."

But how could it not be any of that? Not a legacy? Not a burden either?

Your mother had written those pages, had created the very spells you now had to hunt down. Everything page you thought you had turned was suddenly crashing back into your life, and the ink of each one was tainting your hands.

The journal you held was heavier than before, not just because of its age, but because of what it symbolized—a link to the past you never fully understood, and now had to confront. Your thumb traced the worn edges as you tried to absorb everything Wong, Strange and Wanda had said.

The truth was undeniable.

"Your mother didn’t want this," Wong reminded you, sensing your turmoil. "She did everything she could to stop Chthon. But now, her attempts to protect the world are also what could also doom us if they fall into the wrong hands."

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with dread. Every second felt like a countdown, the ticking of an unseen clock reminding you that every moment spent debating was a moment wasted. But the fear of rushing into something so dangerous, so unknown, kept you tethered to the spot.

It was very clear that they would ask you to hunt those pages. All of them had their own troubles, in the same level of danger as this one. The obvious thing was to task you with this mission.

Yet, there was something unsaid hanging among you. Wanda, Strange and Wong were acting as if they were circling around a specific topic. But, you could already assume what it would be.

The original caster of these enchantments was gone, you were the only one left of her family. The conclusion after that was kind of obvious.

But it didn't ease your thoughts.

What were they actually expecting you to do exactly?

You were her daughter from what they had said, okay. And, that also made you a ‘white witch’, even if you had no idea of the meaning of it. Okay… What did all of that mean exactly?

Strange’s sharp voice cut through your thoughts before you could go further, "The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we become. These pages won’t stay hidden for long."

"So we’re running out of time," Sam spoke up, his tone laced with concern, more aware now of the gravity of the matter you were discussing. Honestly, in the beginning, you also had assumed that Wong’s monologue about the Darkhold was a bunch of weird and complex concepts for your mind to grapple in. "When should we go?"

Wanda, who had remained quiet up until now, stepped forward. Her gaze stayed fixed on yours, steady and strangely gentle at the same time, as though she understood what you were grappling with.

"Well, that's what makes the task complicated," she said quietly, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow. "It's not only about finding the pages... It’s about making sure you’re ready to face what comes with them, ."

Her words echoed in your mind, pulling you back to the core of your fear. You knew exactly what she was leading too, but you thought that ignoring it would make it untrue.

"So, you're saying..." Helmut began, his voice quiet as he glanced at you. Just like you, he was well aware of what Wanda would say next.

The Scarlet Witch slowly nodded, turning in your direction, “You are a white witch as her mother and her aunt were, and all the witches before them, these enchantments were written with white magic, order magic. Only a white witch can find the pages and undo their enchantments.”

Which meant: you.

You blinked, trying to absorb the enormity of what she was saying by this little implication. The heritage you had never fully known was now over your head, pouding as a drum, urging you to take responsibility for something that had been decided long before you were even aware of it.

How could you, a day or two after you discovered exactly who you were, take the reins and steer that runaway carriage back onto the road? Easy, you couldn’t.

"I don’t know if I can," you admitted out loud, "I’m not ready."

It was a subject that Wanda, Strange and Wong were avoiding, and you weren't stupid, it was pretty obvious why. They had barely mentioned what it was, only mentioning how it was complicated to discuss when you should go.

"None of us ever are," Wanda replied instantly, stepping closer. "But you have more strength in you than you realize."

That didn’t answer the question, how were you supposed to go there immediately ready for what would come next? There wasn’t, not if you wanted to prevent the problem before it could bite you in the ass.

"I don’t want to waste time," you said, your voice quiet but more certain.

"Then we won’t," Sam reassured you, his voice calm. "We’re ready when you are."

But you didn’t mean that you were ready. Quite the contrary. You just didn’t want to lose any time, who would guarantee that while you were training in a safe space, the world would stop and wait for you?

“I still can find them, I will figure out a way,” you reassured them, closing the book and clutching it close to your chest. Honestly, you were more reassuring yourself than them. “You said I’m a white witch, whatever this is, so that means I can figure out a way, nonetheless.”

Wanda nodded, but her face didn't seem to agree so much, “And a red witch, yes.”

There was no hesitation in her words, but a layer of caution. The same caution was present in Strange and Wong’s eyes as the three of them exchanged glances.

“Your mother’s magic was a force of protection, very powerful, but yours has become…” Wanda hesitated, trying to look for the words again, “Different. You carry both the light and the darkness within you now, order and chaos. It’s a rare, dangerous combination in a witch.”

The Scarlet Witch sighed, taking a final look at Strange’s direction. Wong shook his head up and down, as to motivate her to say what she should say.

“It’s difficult to say how your magic will manifest. Before, you only showed glimpses of your mother’s powers. Now, you have access to all of it—and the chaos magic.” Her eyes locked onto yours one more time, “It will be hard to tell them apart, especially when you need it most.”

“But it is possible,” you interjected, your voice firm, holding onto a sliver of desperation.

You needed assurance that despite everything—this was a battle you could fight and win without waiting for the inevitable. Without being stuck in a school for a couple of months, as if the danger would wait for you to learn what was the power inside you.

Wanda paused, before nodding quietly, leaving you to face Strange’s strong will.

“Yes, it’s possible.” He agreed, shaking his head. You already could hear the disapproval. “But only if you learn how to control both forces without letting either consume you. That’s why If you choose to stay here, in the Academy, we can help you. Wanda can teach you what she learned about chaos magic to get to where she is today, while Wong and I help you understand more about the history of your ancestors, everything that may be necessary for the mission.”

His words echoed in your mind, but it was hard to focus on them. Your thoughts kept drifting back to the journal in your hands. It felt heavy in a way that had nothing to do with the physical weight of its pages.

“And when will I finish my lessons?” you asked, looking at the three of them.

No one of them seemed excited to get the short end of the stick about giving you the answer.

“Hm,” Wong gulped, driving his eyes away from you, “If we are lucky, two months.”

Two? And that if you were optimistic?

The urgency inside you churned, making you feel restless. Every second seemed to be slipping away from you, and the idea of staying behind to practice, to learn, understand… All of that felt absurd.

“I don’t have time for this,” you said, “I can’t stay here while something can go wrong as we speak right now.”

Unlike you, Wanda, Strange and Wong remained calm, as if they’d expected that reaction. It made you hate the situation even more.

“We understand,” Wanda said, sympathetically, or trying. Did they, though? “But you also need to be prepared. You’re not just dealing with the chaos around you; you’re dealing with what’s inside you.”

The reminder made you chill, as if something was crawling off your pores. There was the faint voice again, far away from you since the last time you saw him.

But, there wasn’t a moment that you didn’t feel him or hear him. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget him.

Wong stepped forward, looking at your friends.

“This isn’t just a mission to retrieve some lost artifact. You’re going to be facing forces more ancient and powerful than anything you’ve encountered.” He glanced at the journal in your hands. “If you go out there without knowing how to control what’s inside you... It could destroy you.”

Strange joined in, his voice pragmatic and weighted with experience. They were truly teaming up against you.

“And let’s not forget the threat already within you—Chthon,” When did they? That was… What? The third time? You’ve lost count,” He’s not just waiting for you to find those pages. He’s waiting for you to slip up. Every moment of hesitation, every decision you make, he’ll be there, trying to influence your magic, your choices.”

Your jaw clenched, trying with all your might to understand their point of view, to believe that what they were saying was true. And it was, it was true, but the problem was that at no point did they deny the likelihood that danger would arrive and it would be too late for you to fight it.

And then what? What would have been your training for? Nothing.

It would never have mattered.

“I’ve faced chaos before,” you stated, taking a step closer to the three members of the Academy, “I’ll be able to handle this.”

But the doubt had already dipped in, curling around your words before they left your lips.

Could you handle this? The uncertainty that clawed at your chest made you wonder if you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. You had fought against your father, but you didn’t win. If you had, he would be out of your mind and never to be heard again.

That was not the case. And after that, your mind was in tunnel vision as you used your magic to do exactly what you wanted. You were still running on adrenaline, too distracted to think about what had happened. Summing up, you have gotten lucky.

If you tried to do the same thing now, would you be able to do it again on the first try? You doubted it, really.

You weren’t quite sure, but what better choices did you have left? Either way, danger would be following you in every corner.

Wanda’s expression softened again, her gaze never leaving yours, “Surviving isn’t the same as controlling.”

You knew where she was coming from.

After Sokovia… Things had been hard for Wanda, you felt bad even thinking about talking about it whether she was in the room or not. For so long, she had a sad history, and now that she was finally enjoying a peaceful life, you felt like talking about the past would ruin it.

“Your magic is different now.” Wanda muttered, leaning her head as she spoke, “Stronger, yes, but also more dangerous. Chthon’s influence is like a shadow—always there, always lurking. You’re not just fighting what’s out there, you’re fighting yourself, Strange is not wrong.”

The truth of her words struck hard. But before you could respond, Sam stepped forward.

He seemed more frustrated than you, his brows drawn as he frowned.

“She’s right,” He met your gaze, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to look back at him, truly see him.

You closed your eyes, your face turning to a random corner rather than his figure. You were brave, but not enough to face a friend about to shove in your face that the grown-ups were right and you shouldn't disagree.

“You’re not invincible,” Sam continued, “And you don’t have to be. Whatever you choose, we will go with you either way.”

Quickly, your eyes opened as they snapped back at him, you glanced at Bucky and Helmut’s direction as well, as if to believe he and the others were serious. They all shared the same passion in their eyes, a sense of trust that had always been there, but only now were you aware of it.

The mere thought of it made your heart melt.

The words were at the tip of your tongue, but something held you back. A nagging thought that had been building in the back of your mind.

“I thought... I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to go,” you admitted in the silence, hoping no one would listen.

But of course they did. You wished they wouldn’t, saying it out loud made you sound so stupid.

Bucky’s blunt tone cut through the room like a knife, “After everything?” He raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady.

His voice made you feel stupid for thinking such a silly thing.

“You really think we’d follow you this far just to walk away when things get tough?” His arms crossed, and there was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Whatever you decide, we’re here. We’ll go when you’re ready. Not a second before or after.”

Helmut, who had been silent until now, stepped closer. His hand never left your shoulder, not once, a silent anchor in the storm brewing inside you.

“This isn’t about rushing into danger,” he said quietly, caughting your attention. “Whether you stay or leave... We’ll follow you, wherever you go.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It has always been your instinct to bear the responsibility alone, to carry the burden of your duties on your own. But here they were, offering something you hadn’t realized you already had, for a long time.

Their belief in you.

It just took you a long time to realize it fully.

“I don’t want to waste time,” you said again, your voice quieter than ever but still filled with the urgency you couldn’t quite shake.

Sam smiled softly, his hand joining Helmut’s on your other shoulder, “Then we won’t waste time,” he reassured you. “Wherever you go, we’re right behind you.”

Wherever we go, you whispered back in your mind. For a moment, you would allow yourself to do what was right for you, choosing to forget the fear of making a mistake pounding in your head.

Darkhold was written by your father, your mother had written the enchantments that chained him and the other Elder Gods into some of the pages. Now, it was up to you now to stop it once and for all. Well, you and Sam, Bucky and Helmut. And, a little of Joaquín as well.

You could know almost nothing about being a witch or controlling magic, but you were smart, you could still figure out a way before losing yourself.

At least, you should try. You would never say it out loud, because you knew how immediately the boys would change their mind, but you rathered danger, cornering you and you only than the whole world.

If the scattered pages were the future ruin that would befall you, they would have to first face you and your lack of control before they could find anyone else. You would ensure that they reached no one else, even if it doomed you.

Strange, sensing that the decision was made, rubbed his temples, already preparing for the inevitable consequences. You were well aware of them too.

“Fine,” he muttered, resigned, “If this is what you’ve decided, we won’t stop you.”

Wong, still unsettled, stepped forward. Sighing, he shook his head, he had also given up from changing your mind.

Even if any of them tried to convince you otherwise, they knew how stubborn you were. The most impossible thing in the world was to stop you from doing something once it stuck in your head.

“At least,” the Sorcerer Supreme said, his shoulders slacking, “Let us offer you a place to rest. You’ve been in the air for days—you must be exhausted.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Then Wong added, “You can stay in the Academy until you’re ready to leave. So rest, regroup… And about your Falcon friend,” he glanced at Sam, “he can land here, rather than continuing in the aircraft. It’s safer.”

You hadn’t realized how much the fatigue had settled into your bones until he mentioned rest. You had been running on sheer determination, your parents’ legacy pressing down on you like a vice. Now, in the quiet aftermath of the conversation, that weight felt even more suffocating.

Helmut’s hand remained on your shoulder, grounding, though the silence that followed Wong’s words made it harder to keep your own thoughts at bay. Rest, you repeated in your mind, the concept almost foreign. You’d been on edge for so long, fighting battles—both internal and external—that stopping, even for a moment, felt unnatural.

But perhaps it wasn’t just rest you needed. Perhaps, what you needed was time to process everything, to sift through the chaos that had become your life.

The room began to clear, Sam gave you a reassuring nod before he quietly followed Bucky out the door, along with Strange and Wong. Leaving you and Wanda in a silence that felt both heavy and comforting.

You held the grimoire in your hands, its weight somehow tormenting what was left of your thought, but even as the room emptied, you were still aware of Helmut standing by your side. He hadn’t said anything since Wong’s offer to stay and rest for the night, but you could feel him—his presence, solid and unyielding. His hand, which had remained on your shoulder for what felt like forever, suddenly tightened, just slightly.

There was a warmth in his touch, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t in this alone, no matter how much the world demanded of you.

You turned to meet his gaze, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, a mixture of concern and something else you couldn’t quite place. There was always a guardedness about Helmut, but now? It felt like the walls between you were thinner, as if something had shifted in the space between you both.

And had, hadn’t it?

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching out. Then, with a tenderness that caught you off guard, Helmut leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek. It wasn’t hurried or rushed, but soft, lingering, as though he was savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, his voice was low, almost a whisper, “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

The words, simple as they were, carried a weight that settled in your chest, mingling with the exhaustion and the uncertainty of everything still ahead. But somehow making the storm inside you a little less overwhelming.

Helmut’s fingers slid away from your shoulder, and as he stepped toward the door, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and left the room. The quiet sound of the door closing behind him was soft, but it echoed in the space he left behind.

You stood there for a moment, your cheek still warm from the brief touch of his lips, the weight of the grimoire in your hands grounding you once again. But now, you felt a little steadier, knowing that when you left this room, when you stepped out into whatever came next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

Your fingers tightened even more around the edges of the journal Wanda had handed you. The cool, worn leather felt solid in your hands, but the reality of what it represented was anything but… Only to remind you that you weren’t alone.

"I understand you, more than you know,” Wanda said softly, breaking the silence as she approached, her gaze soft but focused. “When I first came to understand my place in this world—my powers—it felt like everything that happened, everything I had to face, was my responsibility to fix."

You turned to face her, your grip tightening on the book. There was an odd comfort in hearing her say those words. She had lived through chaos, walked through fire, and here she stood, offering understanding that no one else could.

“At least you’ve realized something I hadn’t,” Wanda continued, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at her lips. “You know you’re not alone in this. It took me much longer to figure that out.”

Her words settled over you, heavy with truth. She was right. You did have support, even if the weight of the responsibility still felt unbearable. The boys were with you—Helmut, Sam, Bucky. They had followed you this far, and they weren’t turning back now. But still, the burden of your lineage felt like something only you could truly carry.

“You’ve come far, too,” you said quietly, looking back at her. “You’ve learned how to balance the power inside you.”

Wanda’s expression shifted slightly, the smile fading as she nodded.

“It took time... More time than I wanted to admit. But I got there eventually. And you will too.” She stepped closer, her eyes filled with that same sadness she often wore—a sadness of someone who had lost much and gained little in return. “But you have to be careful. Chaos magic... It doesn’t play by the rules. And mix with order magic? It’s difficult to predict what will happen.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the truth of her words settle in your bones. Chaos magic wasn’t something you could tame easily. It was wild, unpredictable, and you weren’t entirely sure how to navigate it yet. The thought of staying behind to learn more gnawed at you, but the idea of what could happen with those pages in someone else’s hands… It haunted you even more.

“Do you think I made the wrong choice?” you asked, your voice low as the question finally slipped out. You needed to hear her say it, even if part of you already feared the answer.

Wanda sighed, stopping by your side, taking a look at the journal that you held before responding, “I guess there isn’t a wrong decision, if that’s what you are truly asking me.”

Relief flowed through your body momentarily, your limbs relaxed at the same second the answer arrived to your ears.

“It’s just that…” You hesitated, cracking your fingers one by one, “I don’t see the point in training when, meanwhile, someone can already take their hands in one of the pages. There is no guarantee of safety while I’m training, are you sure there aren't any more white witches out there?”

The witch offered you a sad smile, “No, there aren’t, I fear. They were already few back then, your family is the only one that remains. By what we had consulted with America before you arrived here, you might as well be our only option in the whole multiverse.”

How ironic that was? Were you truly the only variant alive that was a white witch?

You scoffed at the idea of it, how unlucky you were? The last days had proved to you that you were a lot, in fact.

“In the end, what does it mean exactly?” you lifted a brow in curiosity, “Being a white witch?’

Wanda walked away toward the towering shelves, her fingers lightly brushing against the spines of the ancient books.

"Being a white witch isn’t about just using your power for good or for protection,” Wanda explained, pausing to pull a dusty volume from the shelf. She turned back to you, "It’s about maintaining balance—within yourself and the world around you. Your family was one of the last to truly understand what balance is.”

“You said something about order as well,” you mentioned, seeing the witch taking some of the books from the shelves and piling them over one of her arms.

“I did,” Wanda agreed, glancing at the books she had gathered. She placed them on the table by your side, the weight of each one making the surface creak slightly. “Being a white witch means understanding the balance between order and chaos. There must not be too much or less, just enough. Your family knew that without balance, magic can consume you.”

She paused, her eyes scanning the ancient texts in front of her.

“Your mother, your aunt—they were both remarkable in their own ways. They strived to protect the world from forces they knew they couldn’t fully control. But that’s what being a white witch is—recognizing the danger and facing it anyway, trying to keep the scales even.”

You furrowed your brow, still trying to wrap your mind around everything Wanda was saying. It felt like every answer brought more questions, every revelation only deepened your uncertainty.

“And what happened with my mother?” you asked, “Why did she try to cage the gods? Was she under Chthon’s influence before?”

Wanda’s expression darkened for a moment as she considered your question, “Your mother’s intentions were pure, but... Chthon had sickened her mind, he corrupted every thought of hers. She didn’t realize that by trying to stop him and the other Elder Gods, she was upsetting the balance herself. She thought she was preventing chaos, but in doing so, she brought it closer.”

You felt a chill run through you, the realization settling in.

“So, all of this… The chaos, the Elder Gods, everything—are because of her.” It wasn’t a question anymore, you were only looking for confirmation, no more excuses. No more ‘no intentions’. That was it, she had done it.

Wanda nodded slowly.

“She didn’t mean for it to happen.” she told you, her lips pulling in a half sad smile, “She was trying to protect you, to protect the world. But the problem with magic is that even the best intentions can have unintended consequences.”

You stared down at the journal in your hands, its pages filled with knowledge you hadn’t even begun to grasp. There were other Gods in your world worse than Chthon in many ways.

You had faced your father less than three days ago and you were already facing the fact that he wouldn’t be the first, there were more, just waiting for a selfish or disparate soul to get their hands in one of the pages and have their mind corrupted.

Did you have to be the last white witch? You asked yourself, staring at one of your hands as you slowly summoned a little of your magic only to see the white, black and now red energy flowing through your fingers.

"Why white, though?" you asked, eager to change the subject before your thoughts spiraled too far. "There’s black in the way I manifest magic. So, why call it 'white'?"

Wanda chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to echo through the quiet library. She opened one of the books she'd laid on the table, her fingers tracing the old, weathered pages.

"Originally, their name in Latin was 'veneficae concordiae in tenebris'—witches of harmony in the dark," she explained, her voice gentle but precise. "It referred to their understanding of both the light and dark forces within magic. But over time, people started calling them 'White Witches' to avoid the fear or suspicion that often comes with darkness. It wasn’t about purity—it was about balance. Your family, the witches of harmony, knew that true magic requires both light and shadow. They held the order in our world long before books were written."

You blinked, processing what she was telling you. "So, it’s about bringing harmony in darkness, in the literal sense?"

Wanda nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Exactly. Your family’s magic was never purely light or dark. It was about ensuring one didn’t overwhelm the other. That’s why their magic is both black and white. It’s a reflection of the order they maintained—within themselves and in the world around them."

A silence settled between the two of you as you absorbed this new information. It was strange, hearing that your family, that you, were part of something much larger than you had ever realized. All this talk about balance, light and dark, made your role feel bigger than just fighting Elder Gods or stopping dark magic.

And yet, that same sense of responsibility weighed heavily on your chest.

"Your mother was part of this balance too, I know I had said that many times now, but I must be sure that you understand that" Wanda continued, her tone softening. "But when your mother tried to stop Chthon… She didn’t realize how deeply his influence had rooted in her mind."

The mention of your mother again brought you back to the reality of the situation. You bit your lip, eyes flickering down to the journal in your hands.

"Do you think I’ll make the same mistakes?" you asked, not looking up. The question lingered in the air, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

Wanda paused, considering your words carefully.

"I don’t know," she admitted, a sad and strange smile adorning her face again. "But what I do know is that you’re different. You’ve seen what unchecked power can do. You understand the stakes now. And you have us."

Us. What a strange word to use, you thought.

In part, you knew she was telling you the truth, because it would be the same thing that Helmut would tell if you had asked him the same question. Everytime you would ask why his morals didn’t apply to you, he would say that you were different.

That despite the power you held, then and now, you would never be the type of person to let it consume you. Even if you wished in a twisted future, you were incapable to, in your soul. And, deep down, you suspected that he was right.

There was a reason why you had resisted Chthon.

“You’re not alone in this.” Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, grounding you once more. “You have us. You have Helmut, Sam, Bucky, and me. And... You have this.” She made a gesture and, by a twist of her hand, a red energy entangled her fingers and a book was summoned in her hands.

“Go on,” she handed it to you, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she tried to hide it, “Take it.”

You left the journal about the Elder Gods over the table so you could pick up the new book Wanda had given you. The weight of it was different—not heavy, but dense, like it carried centuries of knowledge within its pages. Its cover was a deep, muted red, worn and cracked along the edges, as if it had been passed through many hands before reaching you.

The intricate, faded designs on the cover seemed to shimmer faintly under the dim light, the patterns twisting in on themselves like spells hidden in plain sight. A subtle pulse of energy emanated from the book, almost like a heartbeat.

As you held it, you felt a warmth spread through your fingers, not unlike the sensation you experienced when your magic first awakened. It was... Welcoming. A strange comfort in a world that had been anything but.

“This is no ordinary book,” Wanda said, watching your reaction carefully. “It contains notes from your aunt, but also from me when I first started to understand my own powers. It’s not just a record of spells—it’s a guide, a roadmap to understanding yourself. There’s even space for your own thoughts and creations, for you to make it yours.”

You turned the book over in your hands, feeling the texture of the leather, the way the edges of the pages seemed to hum with untapped potential. You traced your finger along the spine, feeling the faint pulse of magic running through it, as if the book was alive in some way.

“So,” you hesitated, looking up to the woman, “Is it a grimoire?”

My grimoire? It was what you wished you had asked, but you were too shy to dare to do so. The question sounded too silly to get out of your thoughts.

“Don’t know, maybe,” Wanda gestured toward the last section of the grimoire. "Go ahead. Open it."

You hesitated, the grimoire heavy in your hands.

It wasn’t just a book. It was a symbol—a connection to your family’s legacy, to Wanda’s journey, and now, to your own. If someone had told you years ago that this would happen, you for sure would have admitted the person to the mental hospital. The whole idea was crazy even now, as you opened the book.

The pages crackled softly as they turned.

The first few pages were filled with your aunt’s careful, precise handwriting—notations, diagrams, sketches of magical symbols you didn’t yet recognize. Some pages were devoted to protection spells, others to the delicate balance between chaos and order, her ideas and theories. But as you flipped further, you found notes written in a more familiar hand—Wanda’s.

The ink was darker, bolder, but the messages were clear. There were all her enchantments, spells she had created herself or learned on her own.

You could see her struggles, her fears, her questions, written in the margins. It was as if she had left pieces of herself in the book, to guide you, to warn you, to reassure you that even she had once felt the weight of this responsibility. She and your aunt as well, all of them there to help you in your own journey.

And then, as Wanda had said, the pages became blank.

Your pages.

You paused, staring down at the empty space, the crisp paper waiting for your words, your thoughts, your own runes, spells and enchantments.

“This grimoire,” Wanda said, her smile widening, “is yours now. It carries the past, but it’s yours to shape. Whatever path you choose, it will guide you to your own person.”

A map to your place, to where you will fit in this new world that has opened its doors for you. Your heart jumped with the thought, comforted by the gift as if Wanda had just hugged you. Without you noticing, a smile creeped out of your own lips.

You looked up at her again, "Thank you," your voice barely audible.

She shrugged, the smile never leaving her face.

"It’s not about what’s written," she said, placing her hands over your shoulders, "It’s about what you’ll write next."

You glanced down at the blank pages again, your heart beating steadily, though your thoughts were a storm of uncertainty. In a way, the empty pages felt like a mirror of your life—unwritten, waiting for you to fill them with your next choices.

There weren’t wrong decisions, only attempts to do the right thing. And, while it was an attempt, it was enough. In a way or another, you would find the right path.

“Take it one step at a time.” she reminded you, “You’re not alone in this.”

Her words echoed in your mind as she slowly turned away, leaving you alone with the grimoire in your hands. The grimoire and your thoughts. And that voice.

Whether you liked it or not, it would always be there from now on.

You made your way to the upper floors of the Strange Academy, feeling the ancient energy pulse in the very walls around you. After winding through several quiet corridors, you finally found Helmut standing by a large, arched window that overlooked the academy’s training grounds.

The scene outside was almost serene—students practicing their spells under the watchful eye of a professor, their magical auras creating bright flashes of light against the twilight sky. The view was mesmerizing, but Helmut seemed lost in thought, his focus elsewhere.

He himself looking like this, his thoughts straying away and eyes working their way around his mind, was quite the view as well.

You approached quietly, noting how his posture was tensely calm. His hand rested lightly on the window’s frame, his eyes followed the students below.

"Do you regret it?" you asked in a whisper, breaking the silence.

Helmut glanced at you but remained silent for a moment longer, his gaze drifting back to the grounds.

"Regret?" he echoed, his voice thoughtful as he gazed at you, “Regret what?”

“Never going back?” you looked away, focusing on the little kids trying to levitate light and heavy objects, “Not in Madripoor, not in Riga, or in the last five years?”

Helmut turned his gaze back to the students, watching their movements with an intensity that contrasted with the serene scene. For a while, he didn’t answer, letting the weight of your question settle between you both.

The light from the window cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the lines of experience and reflection etched in his features. Not that you were looking at him, of course, you were not.

“I thought about it,” he finally admitted, “In Riga, Madripoor, there were moments where it would’ve been easier to go back and just… End everything. To let things play out the way they should have. But…”

He trailed off, his fingers drumming lightly against the window’s ledge. You could sense the conflict within him—how deeply he wrestled with the choices he had made. You waited, not pushing, knowing he would continue when he was ready.

“But I didn’t want to return,” Helmut continued, turning his gaze toward the horizon. “Not after everything I had seen. Not after you.” His voice softened, losing the edge of calculated detachment you had grown used to, “Somehow, leaving felt like a betrayal of everything I had begun to understand. Of who I was becoming.”

You felt your breath catch slightly, his words weaving between the delicate threads of your emotions. He had always been a man of precise decisions, but hearing him speak so openly now about a choice that felt deeply personal—about staying with you—shifted something inside you.

“And after Wakanda?” you pressed on, stepping closer. “After all that happened?”

Helmut’s gaze flickered for a moment as though recalling the events—the battles, the loss, the redemption that never seemed fully within reach.

“That was different,” he said, quieter now, “There, I thought for a moment that perhaps I had finally paid the price. That I could put everything to rest.”

“But you didn’t,” you concluded. “... You can’t.”

He nodded slowly, his expression solemn, “No. Because even after everything, I realized that there’s still more left to do. More for me to understand.” He paused, then looked at you, his eyes searching. “And more to protect. That’s why I stayed.”

A comfortable silence lingered between you, the need for words fading. Helmut stood beside you, his presence steady, and for once, the air wasn’t filled with tension or questions. It was just the two of you.

You glanced out the window at the students, their laughter and lightheartedness contrasting with the heaviness of your conversation.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” you mused.

Helmut smiled faintly, “We have,” he agreed. “But we are still here.”

Turning to him, you asked the question you’d been avoiding for a while, “So, what now? What's next?”

Helmut didn’t hesitate this time.

“I thought our promise was still valid,” he lifted his brows at you, a small smile taking hold of his face, “I will be by your side as long as you will have me.”

As the golden light of the setting sun filtered through the window, you couldn't help but notice how it bathed Helmut’s face in a soft glow, highlighting the sharp planes of his features. The warmth of the light softened the intensity of his gaze, casting an almost ethereal glow around him.

Somehow, it made his brown eyes shimmer, reflecting the warmth and depth that had always drawn you in. The sunlight danced in them, as if the very essence of the sun resided there.

Without thinking, your hand reached up, gently cradling his face. Your thumb brushed lightly over his cheek, the warmth of his skin bringing you some life.

The small smile he wore widened just a little, seeing him like that was no longer a rare sight.

“As long as you’ll have me, my dear,” you whispered as you gazed deeply into his eyes, drawn into the light that seemed to radiate from them.

In that instant, everything fell away—the worries, the chaos, the uncertainty. It was just the two of you, standing together, connected by something unspoken yet profoundly real.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you closed the distance between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was tender, soft, and full of quiet promise. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, it never was, but rather a gentle affirmation of everything unspoken between you. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you just a bit closer, as if anchoring you to him.

For a moment, the world outside the window seemed to blur, the sounds of the academy and the distant echoes of training disappearing. It was just the two of you in that warm, golden light, sharing a moment that felt like the beginning of something more.

As you pulled away, your foreheads rested together, and for the first time in days, you felt a moment of stillness wash over you. It was a fragile peace, one that you knew could shatter at any second, but you clung to it, savored it, for just a little while longer.

“I guess we have a lot ahead of us,” you whispered, still close enough to feel the soft warmth of his breath against your skin. “More than we know.”

Helmut’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his voice low and full of quiet understanding, “We’ll face it together then.”

You wanted to believe him. At that moment, you really did. But as the golden light began to fade and the shadows stretched across the room, you felt it—just the faintest hint of something cold creeping at the edges of your mind.

Him.

The voice was barely a whisper, but it slithered through your consciousness like a serpent, wrapping itself around your thoughts, tight and unyielding.

You haven’t forgotten me, have you?

Chthon’s voice.

The dark presence that had been lying dormant, waiting in the corners of your mind, was stirring again. You felt it, like a distant echo, just enough to remind you that no matter how much peace you found in this moment, the chaos was never far behind.

Helmut pulled back slightly, his brow furrowing as if sensing the sudden change in you.

“Are you alright?”

You forced a smile, nodding quickly, though the lingering whisper of Chthon’s voice made your heart race.

“I’m fine,” you lied, pushing the dark presence deeper into the recesses of your mind, locking it away. At least for now.

But as you leaned into Helmut’s embrace again, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep it there.

How much time would you have until the bomb detonated?

You can’t hide forever, the voice whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

He will be waiting.

[meritatem]

Damian remembered his first day at West-Reeve School as something unremarkable; he felt patronized and toyed with, but it was nothing new when it came to his father's decisions. He had less negative feelings about his first day at Gotham Academy, because from the beginning he planned to make temporary his stay there.

His first day as Grayson's Robin was memorable; he was eager and ready to prove is superiority as his father's son, but he had too much anger inside him to properly enjoy the experience. His feelings were less positive on his first day as his father's Robin, because even if he finally got what he wanted from the start - to be at his father's side -, it still felt like Grayson... discarded him at the first opportunity.

He didn't feel any happiness in these events that were supposed to mark new chapters in his life. Not the way Jon described the atmosphere in his house the night of their first “official” patrol, nor like how Carrie talked about the morning of her first day at college, even after a previous all-nighter.

Damian wondered then, standing as he was in the middle of the Batcave, with Alfred unnecessarily making sure he had everything he needed for his first solo patrol, if all this time this was how it really was supposed to feel.

He didn't need reminders about com-links, listings of the utility belt's contents or Alfred adjusting the black cloak he was wearing over his League uniform; it was coddling and annoying and just overall so pleasant. He didn't know yet if he liked it or not.

“You're ready,” Alfred finally declared after a last glance over. “But I remain unconvinced about the sword.”

Damian resisted the desire to touch the baldric that crossed his chest. “I won't be using lethal force.” Alfred raised an eyebrow, looking so judgmental and just for that, Damian tried his best to sound very solemn in his next words. “I need it with me, it's my emotional support sword.”

The earnest way in which Damian said that took Afred by surprise, so he had to put to a hand over his mouth and pretend to clear his throat to hide a smile. He soon regained his composure and folded his hands behind his back.

“Very well,” he conceded. “I'll be monitoring closely and I'll be the first to know if you don't keep your word, Master Damian.”

“You're insulting me, Pennyworth, I'm a professional.”

“Then, by all means, the night is yours, sir.”

Damian tried to look calm as he turned around, walking to the motorcycle that'll take him to the city and bothering, as he rarely did in the past, to put on a helmet. With a final formal nod to Alfred, he set off, not minding the road too much because even after so long, Damian still perfectly remembered the fastest routes from the mansion to strategic points in the city.

Being back in the streets of Gotham felt more like coming home than Wayne Manor.

People usually talked about riding bicycles when retaking some forgotten activity. Damian always thought it was nonsense, but soaring again across the night sky, stalking in the shadows and striking hard and fast, felt, indeed, like taking that metaphorical bicycle again.

That night Pennyworth tasked him with mostly gang related activity, so it was basically the equivalent of child's play. In the past, such waste of his skills in something so mundane would undoubtedly make him angry, but now he could appreciate the simplicity of it all, like replaying the first level of a videogame after finishing it. So he did his best to relax and show Alfred what he meant when he said he was a professional.

A few hours later after completing Alfred's latest request, while Damian was going across a tower's rooftop, he decided it was time to take a break and after a quick survey of the next building, he jumped. Instead of instantly using his grapple, he closed his eyes and let himself fall. The seconds felt like an eternity and at the same, not enough. Before reaching a dire point, Damian's line was already hooked, dragging him to safety and when he finally set foot in the building's roof, he went directly to the closest corner, to one of the gargoyles there.

Damian sat over the statue to wait and have his break, with his feet dangling over the hair while he looked down to the streets. His mother beat out him, quite literally, the fear of heights long ago; while Damian wasn't ready to unpack that part of his upbringing, he could at least admit that sometimes it didn't seem so bad. The view over there was half-decent.

When his waiting eventually paid off, he made a point of not turning around when he disinterestedly spoke for the first time that night to someone that wasn't Alfred. “You've been following me all night.” He said to his uninvited guest that silently joined him in the roof.

“Not all night.” And there was unmistakable mirth in his voice. “What gave me away?”

“You're as quiet as that elephant of yours.” And even if he really wanted to look away from the streets, he controlled himself. “I don't need a babysitter, I'm extremely capable.”

“Right, about that, what's up with the last jump? Is the gun giving you trouble? You seemed fine with it before.”

“It was on purpose.” Before Dick could get some terrible fatalistic thoughts into his mind, Damian held back a sigh and continued speaking. “Sometimes falling feels like flying.” Since his back was turned, he completely missed the expression that crossed Dick's face.

This was exactly the reason he told Alfred why he couldn't deal with Damian. What was Dick supposed to answer? What Damian did even mean? Was he talking symbolically, literally? Was he sad? Being sarcastic? Wishful?

Dick felt bad for just even thinking it, but part of him thought that maybe it'd be better if Damian was just angry and unreasonable, because sometimes anger was easier to understand. But he could see what Alfred meant when he said that Damian was trying and after a long debate with himself, Dick wanted to respond in kind. Trained assassin or not, coming to live at Gotham after Bruce's passing surely wasn't an easy change, even if Damian only saw him a couple of times before he died.

In the end he decided to trust Alfred's advice and just take Damian at his word. “You must do a lot of flying, eh?”

“Once, long ago.”

“You know what? After seeing you today, I believe you.”

“Why? Were you doubting my abilities?”  

“Not really, I just didn't think the style from the League could be so, well, mostly harmless?”

“It's not.” Damian spread his black-gloved hands and opened them wide, staring at his palms. “It requires discipline and restraint on my part.” He closed and opened his hands a couple of times. “My first instinct is to permanently incapacitate,” he eloquently put it, for the sake of Grayson's sensibilities. “Is too ingrained in my reflexes,” he closed his fits and bumped them against each two times before keeping the pose. “I need to retrain my body to work better under these new limitations.”

Damian didn't want to know what was Grayson's thinking about his words - and he was thinking something by the silence that followed -, but he just suddenly wanted to get back to the mansion. He knew he wasn't admitting a fault in his person, but still felt like he just declared he was a failure. This whole thing about being truthful and mature, like some sort of better version of himself - when he really wasn't -, was far from gratifying and Damian was beginning to think it was going to become a problem.

“No Saturday's cartoons for you, uh.” Dick said vaguely, like his thoughts were somewhere else. And for some moments, there was again silence before he took a tentative step forward. “You're doing great, fool me there for a second.”

Ah... that tone.

That sounded more like the Grayson he could only talk with in his nightmares. And that was Damian's call to go, honest talk was turning out to be his real kryptonite... hah, Jon would've had a laugh at that.  

Damian got up, shaking not-so-imaginary dust from his cloak. “I'm going back to work. Someone needs to instill fear into the lowlifes.”

“Oh, yeah, your Batman impression is really good. Bit freaky, actually.”

It wasn't lost to Damian that Dick was carefully coming closer. “I'm very skillful.”

“That you are,” Damian considered for a moment if Grayson was trying to ambush him, because it wouldn't be the first time he was unexpectedly attacked by allies. “What do you say if we finish tonight's patrol together?”

“I told you I don't need a chaperone.”

“I know, I just thought it could be fun. We talked about that, remember? Fun.” He made emphasis of the word like Damian need it.

It was an ambush, just not the type Damian initially thought. Honestly he was tempted to ignore Grayson and run away... but just like he had to face Drake, sooner or later he would've to actually coexist with Grayson outside awkward exchanges. And going by the state of the city, that day wasn't really far away.

With no other choice he turned around, finally looking at Dick and noting that, unlike that first night in the Batcave when he found Damian behind the computer, he seemed less guarded now. “I can figure out that on my own.” And he backed away slowly. “I could, however, tolerate your presence,” he paused, almost smiling. “If you can keep up.”

With those words Damian used his left foot as support and jumped back, plunging right into the air without warning. Dick's reaction was instantaneous, his eyes widening in surprise and for a moment he almost called out the other's name as he ran to the edge of the building, but as soon as he reached it, Damian was already ascending, pulled by the rope which hook was secured in the building across; he even had the nerve to give Dick a two-fingered salute before setting his attention on his next landing spot.

Nightwing couldn't do anything but smile. What a brat. But at least he had the spirit.

One of the reasons Damian impatiently waited for his return to the front lines was that it'd grant him more liberties and concessions, like the fact he now had his own "official" communicator, opening the door to more opportunities.

Of course, Damian could've done everything he wanted days ago but he was trying, as much as possible, to follow the rules, because that's what well-adjusted kids were supposed to do. There would be time for Pennyworth and Grayson to realize how uncontrollable he could be if the situation warranted it. That's how he got himself killed the first time, after all.

The morning after his first successful patrol, Damian waited almost excitely in his room until it was twelve o’clock, an hour he thought it was considerate enough to call someone with a night shift.

“I need your help.” Was the first thing he said when he heard the line connect. “This is a personal call, there's no need for concern.”

“... Do you know I have a phone, right?”

“Is a personal call but the matter needs discretion. I know Drake probably is the best to ask for this, but I'm honoring his request and keeping my distance from him.”  

“How very thoughtful of you. What is this about?”

“I need to move founds, which means I also need you to set accounts for me. Something untraceable for now, but I have future projects that'll require a standard legal presence.”

“Do I get to ask or I have to obey without questions?”

“You're right, I should rephrase. I don't want the League to take possession of this money,” and by the League he meant his mother. “Is under my control for now and before you ask, I'm not stealing it, is mine. I worked for it.”

Barbara Gordon was a brilliant woman and even if she weren't, it wouldn't be that hard to figure out what kind of work Damian had to do for it.

Damian never had a proper relationship with Gordon. She was always just there, floating in the background of his complicated family. It was even a surprise she came to Apokolips, but he suspected she did it more for his father than him. That was the only upside about the state of his current relationships, that he didn't have problems interacting with Gordon nor did he particularly cared about what she thought of him; it was liberating being able to talk to her without feeling like he was walking on thin ice.

“I can see where you're coming from, I don't want the League to have it either, but why do you need accounts? You're the son of a billionaire.”

“I want financial independence, something that's not chained to my parents. And as I told you, I have projects.”

“Oh, really? Like what, exactly?”

He hesitated for a moment, before sticking again by his new moral code or whatever he was trying to do with carelessly spilling his thoughts. “I've been reading about my father's charity efforts. They're acceptable but I think there's a field where I can expand... it's too premature and not everything I want to do, but as a start Gotham could benefit from more no-kill shelters.”

Just like everybody seemed to be doing lately - except for Alfred -, Barbara kept silent from a moment that felt a little too long.

“Look, I have some things to do today, but send me all the information I need to the channel we use for surveillance. I'll set you up this week.”

“Thank you, Gordon, I'm in your debt.”

“Believe me, I'll remind you at the first chance I get. Just one last thing, does Alfred or Dick know about this?”

“No, but you are free to tell them, it makes no difference to me.”

“Ok, Mr. Darcy, I'll talk to you later.”

“Farewell, Oracle.” Even if he couldn't see her, Damian knew she was rolling her eyes.

When the communication was cut off, Damian allowed himself to feel a bit optimistic. It was slower than he would like but the improvement was there, he just needed to keep pushing ahead, just like he always did.

⪻Chapter 2

Chapter 4⪼

[f1]

Haas chief Steiner targeting points in every race for the remainder of 2023

Haas Team Principal Guenther Steiner is targeting points in every race for the remainder of 2023 as the team gears up for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix this weekend. The squad head to Baku in seventh place in the constructors’ championship, with seven points, thanks to successive points finishes in Saudi Arabia and Australia. Nico Hulkenberg’s P7 in Melbourne was particularly sweet as it secured Haas's best result since July 2022. Both Kevin Magnussen and Hulkenberg know their way around the Baku City Circuit, having been part of the inaugural race on the city’s streets in 2016 – and Haas are expecting progress both in the immediate future and going forward for the rest of the season. IT’S RACE WEEK: 5 storylines we’re excited about ahead of the 2023 Azerbaijan Grand Prix Team boss Steiner was particularly hopeful that the remaining races could bring more joy with a lofty target to score points in each one, even though the team hasn’t scored around the City of Winds since 2017. “It’s difficult to say because it’s not only our form,” Steiner said, responding to whether the team could break their Azerbaijan point-scoring drought. “I think our car isn’t perfect, but I don’t know where the rest of the cars are perfect this year. I let myself be surprised when we go out in first practice and see what we can do, but this year it could be possible that our car scores points in every race. That’s the aim anyway so let’s hope after 2017, 2023 is the year that we score points in Baku.” Haas will be hoping to score points at every single race throughout 2023 Ahead of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix much of the focus is on the new Sprint format, approved on Tuesday, that will make its debut this weekend. The tweaks see the F1 Sprint effectively become a standalone feature on Saturdays, with the event bearing no impact on the Grand Prix grid itself. Fridays will now include an FP1 session and standard qualifying session to set the grid for Sunday’s Grand Prix, while Saturdays will include the continuing 100km dash with an additional, preceding qualifying session called the ‘Sprint Shootout’. EXPLAINED: Everything you need to know about the 2023 F1 Sprint format The tweaks will add an additional challenge for the drivers to get to grips with over a race weekend, and Steiner declared he was a fan of the revised method for the Sprint. “I definitely prefer the new set-up because Saturday morning practice is pretty pointless as you couldn’t change anything on the car,” he said. “You just went out there, did laps and tried to understand the tyres – I don’t think that’s very interesting for the fans. A second qualifying is a lot better for the fans, and also for us, as it gives you excitement. “We’ve got a lot of things going on at the weekend, two qualifying sessions and two races, and I think that’s great for the sport.” Guenther Steiner is a fan of the tweaks to the F1 Sprint, which will take place for the first time in its current guise in Baku For many of the teams across Formula 1, the spring break has allowed them to rest, reassess and try to make important gains ahead of the return of racing this weekend. With an intense period about to come – five race weekends in the space of six weeks - Haas themselves have done what they can with the pause to try and make progress. EXPLAINED: Everything you need to know about the 2023 F1 Sprint format “With the unintended break, we tried to make the best out of it,” Steiner added. “Firstly, I told people to rest a little bit and get ready for a tough season in front of us, as the real season starts now with the double-header and then the triple-header. “The design team is working on the last little bits for upgrades that we bring in the next races, starting in Miami. We also put a few things in place like the race team going to a team-bonding event for two days in Wales.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[deadlifeseries]

Head with no bulk

yes the title is a bad pun

yes this is about the headmaster episode

yes i am once again writing mooshy shit let's go

This had to be jus about the worst thing ever.

First he had a gallery show and no pieces for it, and now he had woken up with his body somehow missing. After calming down from the initial shock he commed Prowl.

"Hey, Prowl. I uh, I have a problem"

"What happened? Are you alright? You didn't come home last night", everyone just assumed that he'd be back late after Bulkhead stormed out the previous day and didn't come back late into the evening. But as the morning came he was nowhere to be found.

"Sort of? But I need you to come to my location, and please hurry".

Hurry? Did something happen? Prowl hoped not, he raced through the streets into the more run-down part of town. As he aproached Bulkhead's location he couldn't see him anywhere.

He transformed to robot mode and looked around, and called out for Bulkhead.

"Down here!" he called back, slightly embarrased at being seen in such a state. Prowl picked him up "how did this happen? Who did this to you?" His visor switched angle back and forth before settling on pinting sharply up "I'll make sure they pay for it".

He looked down to see Bulkhead look tired and defeated, "what's wrong?" Prowl asked and caressed the other's cheek. "It's just..." he sighed "Everything's going wrong. Everyone's scared of me, I've got a gallery show but I can't make anything good, and now this". The angle of Prowl's visor softened, he knew that Bulkhead had certain insecurities but hearing how much it really bothered him was horrible.

Prowl walked into an allet and sat down with his back leaning against a wall. He held Bulkhead against his chelsplate so that the other could hear his spark. "Why do you worry so much about what others think of you?" Prowl wanted so desperately for Bulkhead to see all the amazing things that Prowl saw in him. "Because they're right! I'm too big and clumsy, and I always break everything! I've always been the looser, I don't know why you even bother with me".

The last sentence made Prowl stiffen, and his vents stilled. In a split second Bulkhead found himself being glared at just a few inches away from Prowl's face. "Now you listen to me. I will not tolerate hearing you talk about yourself in such a way. You mean the world to me and I know for a fact that you are so much more than your physical strength. Anybody who disregards you as nothing more is a fool. I know that it's hard to deal with being talked down to, trust me I have been there myself. But no matter what remember that what others think does not define you". His engines had begun to revv agressively as he spoke, unable to contain his love and passion.

Bulkhead still looked slightly unconvinced, he was about to retort but was immedietly cut off by Prowl's lips pressing hard agains his own. When he was free he tried again, but was once more cut off. "Let me talk!" as much as he tried he couldn't escape Prowl's grasp, "only if you don't depreciate yourself again" he warned.

"Okay, I won't. I just.. I've always been seen as just big and dumb, and I just want to be seen as something more than that. That's part of why I got so invested in spacebridges, I thought that maybe I'd actually make something of myself. Even if maintenence work is looked down on". Prowl listened patiently as Bulkhead spoke, and when he finished Prowl kissed him again, a lot softer this time. "Well, your knowledge in the field is defienetly unmatched. I may not be able to change the opinions of others or completely take your worries away, but know that I will always love you just how are. And I won't hesitate to remind you of it", he smiled and peppered little kisses all over his face and neck, which made Bulkhead start to laugh.

"Are you feeling better now?" Prowl had made them both blush a lot and he savoured the sight of Bulkhead's dorky grin, "yeah, I'm better... thanks, dear". The little petname made Prowl's spark skip a beat. He stood up and set off in the direction of the base "of course, my love".

[randomprojectsbeforeidie]

Studying as much as I can (Daily Log 1/21 AGAIN)

Holy shit my pals. I had the worst morning you could have. My meds have been giving me insomnia, but this was the worst night until today. I don't think I managed 3h of sleep this night.

Got up at 6h, had to cancel presential work 'cause I had no condition to drive. Since I couldn't sleep, my grumpy self decided to research some more study tips. Here's what I got from the Instagram I cited yesterday:

1. Use an agenda for organization (done)

2. Organize your study space. This one was more aesthetic than anything, but I was in a bad mood and tried to do it to try and lift my humors. Here's my chaotic desk after some organizing:

Not pretty or "aesthetic", but it's clean, and that's what matters.

3. Plan you week (done)

4. Have some pauses in your work (I already use Pomodoro)

5. Write in a journal when you're feeling bad. Yeah, my journal heard some good swearing today, you can bet.

6. Don't study in bed. It will interfere with both your studies and your sleep (I used to be guilty of this during college, but it's been a while since I stopped. Thank God, the insomnia doesn't need any additional help)

7. Study everyday, except for Sundays

8. Decompress before studying. This is useful for when I finish work. Maybe wash my face, eat something, and THEN studying.

9. Do all the practice questions (working on it)

9. Sleep 8 hours a night (guilty. I will elaborate on this later)

10. Hydrate. This was cool. Made the calculations, and I should drink 2.800ml of water a day. That means 5 of my watter bottles. That means... roughly one third of a bottle every hour from 6h to 20h. Easy peasy, I did this today.

11. Therapy (had therapy today. Mental health is important, I gotta make sure I have time for the homework my therapist gives me)

12. Exercise. Ok. How about walking 3 times a week? 30 minute walks? Let's start there. Let's start tomorrow and hope my wonky knee doesn't protest.

13. Give yourself rewards for studying (mine are social media breaks in Pomodoro)

14. Take your vitamins. Working on it. Gotta buy more.

15. Follow Nexo Jornal. It is good for the written part of the test. I just signed their newsletter, and will try to listen to their Podcast, Durma com essa.

So. I decided I needed a sleep routine. I fucking NEED to sleep, I'm going crazy.

1. Take a warm shower, listen to calm music

2. Drop your electronics 1h before sleeping

3. Keep your room dark

4. Don't you dare look at that damn clock after you go to bed

5. Only drink coffe in the morning

6. Exercise (ugh. Again. I get it. Gotta move)

7. Have a wake up time (6h)

8. If I can't sleep, I should go to another room and read until I'm sleepy

9. Only use the bed for sleep and sex

10. This one is mine, but maybe try to sleep with some plushies? I used to do this until recently, don't know why I stopped.

And you know what? Even with this awful morning, I managed to study 4 HOURS today! On top of work! On top of Halloween tasks! I got it!

And it was great. There's a pattern I'm getting: I find it hard to start studying, but once I start, I don't wanna stop. So let's fucking GOOOO!

Sleep: 3 hours

Therapy: check

Exercise: rest day

Vitamins: check

Water: 5 full bottles baby

And now I gotta go do my sleep routine. Happy Halloween!

[vinnieslove]

hey i was wondering if your requests are open … would you mind writing about how you and vinnie got into it so he’s giving you the silent treatment and you’re doing the absolute most to get him to break. like you took a shower and decided to just walk out naked and wear his fav pair of shorts and one of his tops. feel free to change it if you want!! btw love your writing and sorry this is so long lol💚💚

break him

summary || after a heated argument vinnie give you the silent treatment. you being petty give him the silent treatment too. but after getting bored you decide to see how long it takes him to break.

warnings || talks of nudity, swearing, arguing, mentions of sex

authors note || i love this request sm. also sam and camille or fake ppl i need two names

“why didn’t you just tell me!” vinnie yelled. you two were currently in the middle of a heated argument. you went out for the day and didn’t return until very late at night and vinnie didn’t find out until the next morning.

“because,” you started to get more frustrated by the second. “i don’t need to tell you everything i just wanted to hang out with my friends! can i note hang out with my friends?”

“of course you can! i don’t understand why you couldn’t have given me a fucking heads up!” vinnie ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“it’s not like i was alone, i was with sam and camille!”

“oh you were with sam? that’s great.” he said with a sarcastic tone.

“oh my god, vinnie, don’t get jealous. his with camille, you know this.” you couldn’t believe he was jealous of a guy in another relationship.

vinnie practically gave up the argument, “i can’t do this right now.” he shook his head heading towards the door.

“vinnie,” you started walking towards him walking towards the door. “vinnie, come on. i’m sorry okay.”

he didn’t listen. he just walked right out the door and headed towards the front entrance. he hopped in his car and just drove.

you stood in your shared bedroom. you sighed and ran a hand through your hair. tears started welling up in your eyes. you quickly blinked them away and headed towards your car.

you had a few errands to run so why not now. it would’ve been better if vinnie was with you.

after about a couple hours you had finished your errands, even got lunch, and went home. you set the few groceries you forgot for the house on the counter and put the away. you carried the rest of your stuff upstairs.

when you entered the room you saw vinnie playing one of his games. he wasn’t or streaming or anything, just playing.

“uh hi. i’m home,” you started “i got that suit you dropped off at the dry cleaners the other day.”

not a peep. it’s not like he didn’t hear you, he didn’t have headphones on so he definitely heard you. you sigh and set the suit in the closet. you set your stuff down and change into something comfy. you changed into some shorts and one of vinnie’s shirts that went past the shorts.

without you noticing, vinnie takes a quick peek at you. once he notices the shirt your wearing, he quickly turns back around taking a deep breath. he can’t resist even at least kissing you when you wear his clothes. it’s a weakness of his. you knew what you were doing though, and so did he.

you were currently laying on your shared bed just scrolling through your phone. sooner or later hera comes at lays next to you. you were getting more bored by the second.

you and your devilish little mind decide to get up and walk towards vinnie. maybe teasing him would get him to break.

you wrap arms loosely around his neck. “vinnie, baby, i’m sorry.” you start to kiss his neck gently. your hand begins to rub his chest a little. “vinnie, com on. i’m sorry.”

vinnie tried so hard not to break. you were being real tempting. you kept kissing his neck ever so lightly so you’d give him goosebumps.

when he didn’t break you sighed, “i’m going to shower.” you said making your way to the bathroom.

after a nice, long, hot and steamy shower you stepped out and wrapped your towel around you. you wiped the fog from the mirror and looked at yourself. you grabbed all your skincare stuff and gently put it on your face.

“shit,” you said to yourself. you forgot to bring clothes to change into. you walked out of the bathroom with your towel wrapped around you.

you wanted to wear one of vinnies shirts again, one of his old one that he never wore. for some reason those were your favorite. he always kept them on a shelf above everything. to reach it, you’d need to stand on your tippy toes and reach for it.

you let it slip your mind that you were still wearing a towel and you needed to hold it to keep it in place. you did momentarily but as you continued to reach you let it go so you could reach further.

once you felt the cold air hit your body, you let out a small yelp. vinnie, now laying on the bed, turned over to see all the commotion. his eyes went wide when he saw your naked body. of course he’d seen it before, you guys had sex all the time.

‘fuck’ he whispered to himself. it’s getting harder to ignore you. at any moment he was going to break.

you hadn’t don’t this on purpose— if you had you’d tease him more. you grabbed the shirt, and your towel, and the rest of the clothes you needed and quickly made your way to the bathroom seeing as the cold air wasn’t going away.

once you finished getting ready for bed, you made your way out and on to the bed. you sigh, seeing vinnie not greet you after you shower hurt.

you slowly walk towards the bed, placing your phone down on its charger on the night stand. you climbed on top the bed and sat on it.

“vinnie, i’m sorry. really i am.” he didn’t bat an eye. “okay? i messed up and i’m sorry. i really should’ve texted you. looking back it was stupid of me not to text you.” you started to tear up. you tried to sniff quietly, feeling your nose get a bit stuffy, but you failed.

vinnie heard this and immediately sat up, setting his phone aside. “oh, baby, please don’t cry. i’m sorry for ignoring you.”

you now had tears running down your face, “no, vinnie, don’t apologize. i’m the one in the wrong.” you hiccuped throughout that whole sentence.

vinnie took you in his embrace. he is now laying up against the whole and your curled into his side, wiping your tears with his shirt. he didn’t care though, he chuckled a bit at your actions.

he leaned down to kiss your head. “i’m sorry for blowing up.”

“i’m sorry for not texting you. i’ll text you everything i’m doing from now on.” you said as a partial joke.

vinnie chuckled, “okay, my love. i’ll be waiting for those texts.”

“i love you,” you said.

“i love you too,” vinnie replied.

[weirdos-am-i-right]

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

.

[t-wordy-kk]

Show Me A Smile:

Here’s the Loki fic I promised! I got a little extra time to work on this, which is why it is a day early! But I hope you enjoy!!

Also this is like 3 times the length of my Doctor Strange fic and I don’t know how that happened 😅

Word count: 3,775

(Only warning is a tiny bit of what I feel is needed language, otherwise SFW)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being best friends with many of the Avengers had its perks. You didn’t have to worry about rent since they willingly let you live with them at the compound, safety was rarely a problem, and you had an amazing group of people to rely on whenever you needed them, plus a crush on a demigod who captured your eye in an instant. Living with them also meant that you didn’t need to even have a job, but you felt like you needed a reason to get up every day, so you took a position at a company somewhat close to the compound.

“Shit, I’m late!” You exclaimed, jumping out of your bed. “Okay, I’m positive that nothing else can go wrong. This is gonna be the only problem of the day.”

Boy, were you wrong.

Sprinting down the road in front of the compound to your car, you realized that you left your keys in your room, meaning that you had to go all the way back up in order to get them.

“Where did I put them, I could have swor-“

“Y/N, I noticed that you’re being exceptionally loud this morning, is there any specific reason?”

Whipping your head around, you blushed at the sight of Loki standing in your doorway in the early hours of the morning with his steaming mug of tea, noting his lack of a t-shirt. Taking in a glimpse of his toned upper body, your blush darkened and you returned to your previous task.

“Loki, hey! I, uhm, I’m a little late for work and I can’t find my keys, I was just-”

“Right here. Have fun,” He replied, passing you the keys he found on your side table and leaving, most likely to refill his mug of tea that was empty by the time he found your keys.

“Thanks.”

Finally returning to your car, you quickly unlocked and started it, beginning to back out of the long driveway. Barely making it 20 feet from your starting point, you saw smoke coming from the front end, hearing what sounded like the engine breaking down moments later. “Of all days, today just had to be the one from hell.”

So, as a last resort, you got out and started running as fast as you possibly could to your job, resulting in you being over an hour late. Just what you wanted.

“L/N, is there any distinct reason that you are late?” Your boss asked as you walked in the door, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“I couldn’t find my keys and then my car broke down so I had to run all the way here from the com-, I mean, my uhm, my house, and I couldn’t catch a bus because of what time it was and if I had waited I would ha-”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re still late. You should know that being on time, especially at this company, is one of our top priorities.”

“Yes sir, I know, but I would just like to-”

“I don’t want to hear your backtalk, just go,” He said with a glare. “The marketing team has been waiting for you in the meeting room for the past 45 minutes. Your presentation better be ready.”

“What do you mean the presentation? I thought that meeting wasn’t supposed to be for another week, it’s not-”

“You tell me that it isn’t finished and you’re done here. They’re waiting for you.”

A blank expression on your face, you slowly but surely made your way into the conference room, finding the management team patiently waiting for you, chatting amongst themselves.

“I am so sincerely sorry that I’m late, I wasn’t made aware that you all were planning to meet today instead of the scheduled date, so I apologize in advance for any mishaps within this presentation,” You said, rambling on as you tried to sync your laptop with the projector, silently celebrating once it connected.

“Oh it’s perfectly alright Y/N, no worries whatsoever.”

“Okay then. Thank you all for your patience, let’s get started.”

After the presentation was over, you made your way into your office in order to continue the day. And despite not having finished the presentation, the marketing team liked the ideas that you put forward and planned to work on putting them into action, giving you a small sense of accomplishment that you desperately needed.

“L/N!!” Your boss yelled, slamming the door to your office open.

“Glad to know that knocking still exists,” You replied with a laugh, faltering slightly as the expression on your boss’s face remained unchanged.

“Do I look like I’m in a joking mood right now?”

“No, but in all honesty you rarely are, so I-”

“Why was that presentation unfinished? And there better be a good reason for it.”

“Because you asked me to work on the presentation and to be fully prepared with the presentation completed and ready by next week. In my personal defense, I was given no advance notice of the change in meeting date, and when you put two and two together, evidently none of this was my fault. Now if you’ll excu-”

“I don’t want to hear that you were given no advance notice, I told you when you got here!”

“Yes, because I was supposed to complete the presentation that would have taken me hours to complete and proofread over and over again in order to prepare in a matter of two minutes once I got here? That’s what you expected from me?”

“Don’t speak to me in that tone L/N. Pack your things, you’re done here.”

“Sir, this is certainly not my fault. I don’t know what you are trying to do bu-”

“Don’t tell me this wasn’t your fault. If there’s anyone here who truly knows what they are doing, it’s me. You’re done here,” He stated, walking out of your office and returning with a cardboard box, and retreating back to his office once more. “Have a nice day.”

“This is total and complete bullshit,” You said to yourself as you moved the small amount of items you had in your office into the box. “Of all days to get fired, it’s the one where I have no car with me. Wonderful.”

“I’m leaving, and taking the laptop with me!” You yelled, passing by your manager’s office at the end of your shift with the box. You knew you were allowed to take it since you paid for it, but you just wanted to hit a nerve. “Have fun without me!”

“Get out of my building! You’re banned from returning.”

“Fine by me!” You exclaimed, tears rolling down your face as you slammed the door shut on your way out, accidentally running into it with the box. “Damn it!”

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you made it about a block away from your office building when it started to rain. And as you learned from living with Thor, rain always had a chance of bringing thunder and lightning. Today was the day that the pouring down rain decided to bring its two friends along, drenching you in a matter of minutes. With the curse the world put on you, there was no umbrella in your box of items, and your tears were lost in the raindrops running down your face.

“Of all days, why today? What did I do to deserve this, huh world? Am I really that miserable of a person to deserve this!” Shouting obscenities at the sky, you continued your walk home, not wanting to run because you knew it would make no difference. You were going to be soaked either way.

Hearing a phone ring above the sound of the thunder, you pulled it out to see that Steve was calling you. Knowing he would be worried if you picked up, you let it ring and sent him to voicemail, which you never did.

Back at the tower, Steve was shocked when he heard your voicemail message instead of your voice, eventually hearing the beep. “Y/N, it’s Steve, I hope everything’s okay, I know you would’ve been back by now but I guess they had you stay late. Anyway, call me back when you get a chance, bye.”

“Did she send you to voicemail?” Tony asked from across the kitchen where he was making a sandwich. “She never does that, even if she’s in a meeting.”

“Is everything alright in here?” Loki asked, inviting himself into the conversation between the two men.

“For the most part, yeah. We tried calling Y/N to make sure she was okay since she’s not back yet and it’s storming, but she didn’t answer, which is new.”

“Did you ever think that she might not want to be bothered at the moment? Or that she had to stay past her initial shift?”

“I did, but I also know that she always tells us when she stays late or picks up when one of us-”

“She sent me to voicemail too, something’s up,” Tony mentioned, putting his phone down on the countertop. “You try calling her, ice cube. Maybe she’ll answer for you.”

“I see no sense in trying, but if it will satisfy your needs, then I suppose I shall give it a go,” Loki said as he conjured his phone into his hand, tapping on your contact in his speed dial section.

As you continued walking down the street, having ignored both Steve and Tony, you heard a different ringtone, knowing it was the one you set for Loki. Knowing that you couldn’t stabilize your emotions enough to even talk to him, you turned your phone on silent and quietly continued walking through the storm as the tears continued to fall.

“I told you that my attempt would be futile,” Loki declared as he grabbed a kettle and began brewing your favorite tea so it would be waiting when you got back. He would never say it to anyone else, but he had a soft spot and developed feelings for you.

“Is that Y/N’s tea?” Bruce asked, sniffing the air and walking into the kitchen to find the three men standing around. “Did she slip in without saying anything?”

“No, in fact she is late and hasn’t answered any of us, making our attempts to contact her futile,” Loki mentioned as he moved back to the steaming tea kettle. “Maybe you could partake in these futile attempts as well, doctor.”

“That’s really odd, she’s never had to stay late, especially an hour late,” Bruce mentioned, calling you while opening the fridge and seeing if his standards were low enough to find something appetizing to snack on. “Did you try tracking her phone?”

“I’d like to think that some privacy manners are still respected,” Loki interjected.

“I didn’t even get one ring in before I got sent to voicemail, she probably doesn’t want to talk right now. Tony, let’s go see if either of the girls can get in contact with her, maybe Bucky, Clint, Peter and Thor if the girls can’t get through,” Bruce responded as he walked out with Tony, both of them getting stopped by Loki.

“No phone tracking?”

“Fine. Just don’t blame us when we don’t find your secret lover!” Tony yelled from halfway down the hall.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Bruce quietly mentioned, chasing Tony down the hall.

“I’m quite sure.”

“Loki, what’s going on between you and Y/N, you act differently around her than everyone else,” Steve inquired, giving Loki a look that told him to spill or he would find out himself.

“I may have developed feelings for the girl, she’s the smartest, most interesting, most beautiful, and kindest person I have ever met in my lifetime,” He admitted, smiling slightly at the thought of you.

“Then tell her, be honest with her. She’ll think something’s up if you aren’t. I trust that you’ve changed enough to do the right thing. Good luck,” Steve finished as he patted Loki’s shoulder, giving Loki the reassurance he needed.

Walking up to the gate of the compound two hours after you were normally back, you pulled out your phone to find multiple missed calls, unread texts, and voicemails from everybody in the compound. Not knowing what to do, you put your phone back in your pocket and punched the code into the gate’s keypad, preparing yourself for the long walk up the driveway in the continuing rain.

“Has anyone heard from Lady Y/N yet?” Thor asked, walking into the dining area where the rest of the team was eating dinner, taking his chair and graciously accepting the food that was passed to him.

“No, but I could’ve sworn the gate opened like, fifteen minutes ago,” Peter mentioned as the door to the compound opened, revealing your soaking form holding the now-ruined cardboard box holding your belongings.

“Y/N!”

“Leave me alone,” You sobbed as you dropped the box on the floor and ran to your room, locking the door behind you.

“What’s got her upset?” Wanda asked as Loki walked over to the box you left on the floor and looked at the items in it. He found a framed picture of the team in the box, and immediately understood.

“This box has her things from her job,” Loki solemnly answered as the entire team’s faces dropped. “And she couldn’t find her keys this morning, but when I went outside her car was still in the drive-”

“She was stuck walking in the rain this whole time?”

“I suppose so.”

“So that’s why she didn’t answer any of us,” Steve said, everyone quietly agreeing. “What do we do now?”

“I’ll go check on her.” Grabbing the mug of tea and plate of food that was prepared for you, Loki made his way down the hallway, looking at Steve who gave a nod before continuing.

“Go away!” You yelled, hearing footsteps from outside the door.

“It’s just me, I come in peace,” Loki responded with a slight laugh, in hopes of brightening your spirits.

“Just go, let me be,” You said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. Knowing that you were in there and hurting was enough to break his heart, so he tried even more to get you to open the door.

“I brought tea, and dinner. Nat made your favorite tonight, and I figured you would-”

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” You yelled, beginning to cry again.

“Fine. If that is what you wish, your wish is granted.”

Walking away from the door, Loki felt horrible that your day ended the way it did, but he was adamant about cheering you up. He quickly walked back to your room and sat with his back to the door, waiting for the moment that you unlocked it so he could comfort you.

Shortly after he began to doze off, he heard you quietly talking, not knowing that he was there. “FRIDAY, unlock the door please.”

Waking up in an instant after hearing your voice, he knocked on the door and began talking. “Y/N, before you turn me away again, I just wanted to let you know that I, uhm, I brought your box. And dinner, and your favorite tea. That is, if you are up for it. I completely understand if-”

“Just come in, I guess.”

“Are you alright?" Loki softly asked, opening the door to find you sitting on your bed, quietly crying to yourself.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."

"Y/N, stop lying to me. What's wrong?"

"E-everything went wrong today a-and it wasn't even my f-fault," You sobbed out as he looked at you curiously, unsure of what to do.

“Would you, uhm, possibly like to talk about it? I heard that helps with releasing built up emotions, not that I’ve ever experienced that,” Loki replied, sitting next to you while putting the plate of food and tea mug on the top of your dresser.

“W-would you mind? I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, I can get through it on my own.”

“Based on the cascade of tears, shallow breathing, and small hiccups that you now have as a side effect of the crying and are failing at hiding, I personally don’t think you can get through this on your own, despite the lies you may tell me.”

“Your intuition is remarkable,” You mentioned with a small smirk that quickly faded as he tucked one of his legs under the other, facing you and encouraging you to begin talking.

“It always is. Let’s hear the story and then see how well that intuition is working.”

“Okay, uhm, well you know how it started, I couldn’t find my keys this morning, so I was running late. Then I ran down to my car, tried to start it, maybe got 20 feet down the driveway and then my car broke down. So I started running to work like anyone under the pressure of being late would, but by the time I got there I was crazy late, and my boss started yelling at me. Little did I know, the marketing team that I was supposed to meet with next week came in today, and of course the presentation was nowhere near finished. They were nice about it and liked my ideas, but my boss went off on me and fired me. And when I left, it started storming, so I didn’t feel the need to rush, I got here two hours late, and yeah, there you go.”

“Oh sweet girl, come here,” Loki said, opening his arms to give you a hug, which you graciously accepted while you cried into his shoulder. “Why didn’t you ask one of us to come get you, we would’ve dropped everything to make sure you were safe.”

“B-because I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. You’re all heroes of the universe and I didn’t want to make it seem like I was anything less than you guys. I was able to handle it on my-”

“Never say that you’re less than us, because you are nothing near less. You mean so much to all of us and we want to be here for you whenever you need anything, no matter how big or small the predicament may be.”

“That means a lot, thank you Loki,” You said as he hugged you tighter.

"Of course," He replied as he started rubbing your side, attempting to comfort you. Having a small muscle spasm while doing so, his hand jolted and lightly tickled your side, making you giggle and scoot away from him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," You replied with a blush.

“That certainly wasn’t just ‘nothing’.”

“In all honesty, it was nothing, I swear.”

"So then you would not mind if I were to do this?" He asked as he started to lightly flutter his fingers along your side.

"L-Loki, no," You said as you laughed.

“But I thought this was nothing, you shouldn’t be laughing if it was nothing.”

“Please nohoho.”

"No, I don't think I can, you still seem upset, and I can't have you upset, now can I?"

Loki pinned you down on your bed and started tickling you more, digging into your ribs with his slender fingers.

"Lokii please nohoHOHO!" You laughed as he moved his tickling hands into your underarms, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin located there.

“There’s nothing stopping me, and your laugh is obviously causing you to feel better.”

Your giggles increased to louder laughter once his hands moved to your hips, while you tried to move under his weight, failing to do so. Drilling his fingers into your sides right above your hips, you let out a small shriek, not prepared for how sensitive you were under his touch.

“LOHOKIHIHI PLEHEHEASEHE!!”

"How about I make you a deal, I'll stop as long as you promise me you'll smile," He said as he kept tickling you.

"I'LL SMILE I PROMISE!" You yelled through your laughter.

“Are you sure?”

“YEHEHES!!”

Removing his hands from your body and lifting you onto your feet, he looked at you while the corners of his mouth perked upwards. "Feeling any better?"

"Despite the torture you just put me through, I think I’m going to be okay," You said as a small blush rose to your cheeks once more.

“But where’s the smile you promised?”

“It’s right here,” You replied with the cheesiest smile you could manage, causing you both to laugh.

“No, I want a real smile, and I know just the trick.” Leaning down and wrapping his arms around your waist, Loki softly pressed his lips on yours, and quickly removed them in fear that you did not reciprocate his feelings towards you.

Noting the smile and small nod you gave, he put his lips back on yours with a little more pressure, knowing that you felt comfortable. As your eyes fluttered shut, you felt a sense of genuine comfort as you returned the kiss, deepening it by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing back.

Taking his lips off of yours, you looked at him with a hint of a blush and a true smile gracing your lips. “There’s that smile. Join me for dinner tomorrow?”

“Depends, is it a date?” You asked as you sat back down, humor in your eyes after the obvious confession of feelings shared through the kiss.

“It is whatever you want it to be. Although, if you want it to be a date, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed,” Loki responded with a quick wink, which you almost missed due to how fast it was.

“Then my answer is yes. And you’re really good at cheering people up, as much as I may not want to admit it, I really appreciate your help. Although that wasn’t the most conventional way to do it.”

"One of the many things you’ll learn. Also, all I’ll say is make sure to stay on your toes now that I know this," He said with a smirk on his face. “I can’t promise that I won’t take advantage of your little weakness.”

"Oh no.”

“Oh yes, my love. Mischief’s curse.”

Getting up to return to his room, you grabbed his wrist, causing him to abruptly turn around. “Stay? Maybe we can, I don’t know, watch a movie?”

“If that is what you wish, then I’ll gladly stay.” Sitting up to let Loki sit behind you, you moved in-between his legs and laid your head against his chest, taking his hand in yours.

“Thank you for everything.”

“Of course, my love. Anything for you.”

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

Could you do something with Mr Brown, Nice Guy Eddie and any of the other dogs if you feel like it (or even just Eddie if you don’t feel like doing more than one!) and what they would do if they had a partner who is on their period? I’m just finishing mine and your girl could use some comfort because this is a huge pain lol. Love your blog so much!!! I hope you’re doing well. 💖

Hey hon, I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having a hard time. Believe me, I get the pain being AFAB myself. Sorry it’s so rough; I’m more than happy to help out here. I apologize for the late reply by the way, I hope that these headcanons can account for it. ( Thought the GIF below was fitting for this occasion ).

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt-comfort, periods, and insecurities.

the dogs with an s/o on their period ( reservoir dogs )

MR. BROWN/JOHNNY CAMPBELL

This cinnamon roll is both confused and worried simultaneously for you. He has no clue what’s going on to you, all he knows is that you’re in pain, and you’re not yourself.

He does all he can to make you comfortable. Blanket burritos, hot water bottles, painkillers, chocolate, whatever you need, he’ll get it no questions asked. He loves you, only wanting to see you happy.

If you’re okay with it, then cuddles are totally on the table.

Of course, being the film buff he is, you’ll basically have a movie marathon week after work. He pulls out all of your favourites from his vast VHS tape collection, his arms heaped with comedies, rom-coms, whatever genre you like. His commentary is priceless, putting a smile on your face.

“ How you feeling, honeycake?” He asks the minute you walk in the door after a long day at your job. He can see that you’re not a hundred percent, so he rushes to scoop you into a tight hug.

Foot massages, this is Brown/Tarantino we’re talking about, ha ha.

In all seriousness though, he’s your knight in shining armour.

“ Aww, c’mere and let me rub your back, sweetie.”

“ I’m so sorry, I know it sucks balls. I wish I could take it away.”

“ Hey, as soon as you’re feelin’ better, I’ll take you out to Blockbuster and we can rent a couple of movies, get some take out, and have a date night at home. You’d like that?”

“NICE GUY” EDDIE CABOT

He saw the signs of your period approaching a week beforehand. Your change in attitude, the way you looked, your energy levels—it wasn’t exactly conspicuous.

When the actual cycle starts, you bet that he gets himself in gear. He’s a sassy king, we all know this, but he tries to tone it back so as not to irritate you.

Hugs, hugs, and more hugs, with an extra helping of cuddles and staying in bed for the whole morning.

Eddie’s the best cuddle-buddy out of all the Dogs in my opinion; warm, encompassing, soft, and gentle despite his size and strength. All that sweet chubbiness gets put to good use.

“ Mmm, Daddy’s gotcha, doll. There ain’t nothing that can take me away from you right now.” You melt into his chest, his sensual purring getting the best of you. Even when he’s not trying to be, Eddie is white hot sex.

He pampers you, there is no other way to put it. You tend to feel insecure about yourself when your time of the month comes. It breaks his heart to see you doubting yourself; his beautiful, smoking hot partner. He does your hair, paints your nails, treating you like the god you are. ( I’ll go more into detail about where he picked up his beauty skills in some future headcanons, 😉 ).

“ Don’t you goddamn forget how gorgeous you are, you hear me?”

“ You’re a god/goddess, baby. I know that Heaven is real, because it’s blessed me with you.”

“ I’m here to be here for you, okay?”

MR. WHITE/LARRY DIMMICK

I have a theory that Larry is twice divorced, and you are his third partner. He could never keep his wives because they couldn’t accept him for how he did business, nor over his sense of humour, which you adore. Being married before means that White has a fair share of experience in the period department.

Being a man, he doesn’t know how it feels himself, but he is more than sympathetic. He thinks that men who are dismissive towards the struggles of menstruation are disgusting and stupid as hell. Honestly, it makes him very angry. So you can sure that he won’t treat you like that.

Oftentimes, you feel grossed out by dirt and sweat when you’re on your period. You’re in the shower regularly everyday, to combat this. He’ll join you, but not to be lecherous. He just wants to make you comfy. He has some lavender scented shower steamers, which make the experience better.

Washing your hair for you, his hands so gentle on your scalp. He scrubs you down himself, taking caution around your sensitive regions. And he always asks beforehand, like the classy gentleman he is.

“ You still okay with this? I can stop if it’s painful, darling,” You tell him it’s perfectly fine, letting him work his magic.

Okay, but one of the cutest things he does to help you feel better? Reading to you in bed.

I’ve already covered how much of a literature lover he is in my first requested fanfic on this blog; so go check that out if that interests you. Anyways, he’ll crawl into the bed you two share with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He pours, hands you one, then picks up a book off the shelf above the headboard. And he reads to you, in that velvety honeyed voice of his. GOSH, NOW I’M SCREAMING AT MY SCREEN.

“ You know how much I love you, Y/N? Even when you’re feeling down, I love you as much as I did when I first laid eyes on you.”

“ I fluffed up your pillow for you. Why don’t you come have a nap with this geezer, huh?”

“ It’ll be over soon, love. It’ll be over soon.”

MR. ORANGE/FREDDY NEWANDYKE

Like Brown, this guy has no idea why you’re suddenly so angry all the time. He’s basically thinking, what demon has possessed my sweet baby Y/N? Your mood swings unnerve him, he doesn’t know what’s going on. So he asks you, and you tell him you’re on your period.

That makes sense to him suddenly. It dawns on him right there in the living room of your apartment. He nods, pulling you into a hug. He tells you he’s sorry, and that he’s all yours to do whatever he can to help.

Freddy whips out his comic books, action figures, and cartoons to entertain you with, having the time of his life with you snuggled up in your fuzzy onesie on his chest.

He comes back from the grocery store carrying all your favourite comfort foods: chocolate, snack foods, booze, whatever you like. He just uses your period as an excuse to eat pizza and watch Spider-Man all day.

“ I’ve called in sick with the Dogs, so now I’m here the whole week!” He beams, grinning like the prankster he is. You shake your head, not able to help but laugh and call him an idiot.

He carries you bridal style around the house, you can’t protest. To the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, he’s like your valet-slash-personal-driver in one package. Plus, it makes you laugh when he creates his own sound effects as he sweeps you to your feet. He’s a comedian, definitely.

“ Hey, you know what always makes me feel better? Ice cream sandwiches and Nintendo! ”

“ You’re the Lois Lane to my Clark Kent, baby. The Mary Jane to my Peter. And don’t you ever think about saying that you can’t compare to those broads, because you do, and you’re better than they are.”

“ I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sad too. I’m sorry it hurts, I’d give anything to stop it. ”

I hope these were okay, and if not, I will GLADLY rewrite them to make it better for you. Thanks for the request, anon, and I’m sending you all my good vibes and love during this sucky time.

[amazingmaeve]

right where you left me ↠ f & g weasley

━ “i like you for you, you know that.”

summary ━ Y/N is heartbroken when Fred breaks up with her and leaves her at Hogsmeade and she feels like she’s frozen in time. Until someone snaps her out of it.

warnings ━ angst, fluff

a/n ━ no twincest. also no hate to angelina or fred. Loosely based on ‘right where you left me, by taylor swift. Also may make a part two if i’m up for it.

word count ━ 2.3k

tags ━ @risingtripletaurus @hey-there-angels @lindsaytriestowrite

Before the war everything was fine between Y/N and Fred. They were in a relationship ever since their 4th year. Fred Weasley and Y/N Y/L/N were hopelessly in love.

Then the war came. Everything changed after that.

Y/N knew that Fred must be going through a tough time since a wall almost crushed him to death. She was there when he woke up screaming from a nightmare. She held him while he cried. Comforted him when he needed it.

She suggested a therapist where he can talk his problems out. Fred immediately declined not even thinking about it for a second.

They no longer went on dates where they could spend time together. Laugh and be in love. Fred put his focus on the shop which Y/N could understand since she worked there as well.

Before the war Fred would cheer Y/N up whenever she was sad, angry, frustrated or even when she had a bad day. Fred would there to cheer up, making her smile and laugh.

But now when she had a bad day Fred didn’t even know. Not even when she was sad or angry. It was like he was falling out of love with her.

Y/N would usually shake those thoughts out of her head not believing it.

Fred worked longer than she did and always came home late. Y/N assumed it was work getting to him. Also him not wanting to sleep because of the nightmares, which she completely understood.

She didn’t want to make Fred worry at all since the war so she tried doing her best with everything. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry so he didn’t have to do it.

She assumed this was the normal. Y/N was happy for the moment. She was here with Fred and everything was okay. It would’ve been much worse if Fred had died she told herself.

She was content for the moment.

Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t.

Fred told Y/N that they would be going on a date tonight which made her really excited. It’s been awhile since He took her out.

She got dressed in her favorite dress and put on makeup to make her look presentable. When she was done finishing putting her earrings on she looked at herself in the mirror.

She smiled at herself. She felt so happy at the moment. Fred might be coming back to her and that was the best thing in the world.

Fred took her to this really nice restaurant where she ordered some salad while Fred ordered some steak. He was being very quiet which confused Y/N.

“What’s wrong Fred are you okay,” Y/N asked worriedly while she put her hand on his. It surprised her when jerked his hand away from her.

“We need to talk,” Fred says, not looking at her in the eyes, this makes her heart sink into the bottom of her stomach.

“About what,” Y/N asked as her voice wavered a bit out of nervousness. She dropped her hands to her lap and picked at her nail wondering what he was going to say.

“I think we need to break up,” Fred blurts out making her eyes widen.

Many emotions are running through Y/N. Confusion, sadness, a bit of anger. Her lip trembled when she met his beautiful eyes.

“Who is she,” Y/N sighed tears brimming her eyes as she looked down at her lap. She didn’t know if he cheated, she just wanted to know if she did. Fred let out a sigh.

“Angelina Johnson,” Fred answered. Y/N could feel the tears falling as the name slipped out of his mouth. Angelina has a crush on Fred in Hogwarts but Fred always reassured Y/N he never liked her.

“Of course,” Y/N scoffed, tears finally falling down her cheeks. He didn’t love her anymore. She thought they’d be together forever. The mascara must be wearing out from the few tears that came out which probably made her look like a freak show.

“Also I think you shouldn’t work at the shop anymore,” Fred says softly. It took everything for her not to cry. She was losing her boyfriend and her job in one day.

Y/N nodded not looking at him. Fred got up putting the money on the table and walked over to Y/N kissing her forehead. The contact made her flinch.

“I’ll come pick up my stuff tomorrow,” Fred softly says before leaving Y/N in the restaurant. She tries to finish her salad to get something in her stomach but she just couldn’t.

She finally got up wobbling on her legs. Putting a tip on the table before leaving the restaurant.

The cold air is a sensation that made her flinch as soon as she stepped out on the sidewalk. She walks home as tears slip out of her eyes as reality sinks in.

Fred doesn’t love her, he loved Angelina.

She puts her hand over her mouth to cover up the sobs so people don’t look at her weirdly. When she finally gets inside her flat she falls on the ground sobbing into her arms.

Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and rocks herself back in forth. What did she do wrong to make Fred not love her anymore? Did she not love him enough?

She got up after half an hour of crying and put her pajamas on. She looked inside her closet and saw Fred’s quidditch Jersey.

Y/N pulls it to her chests as more tears fall out of her eyes. Her heart feels like it cracked in half from the heartbreak.

“Why?” She whispers to no one. She starts to get angry. She did everything to help Fred, she comforted him when he had nightmares, suggested a therapist to help him and even offered to pay for it. Y/N did everything to help Fred but apparently Fred didn’t care anymore.

She crawled into bed as she let a few tears fall until the exhaustion finally hit her like a freight train. She fell asleep hating the fact that Fred would never love her again.

Y/N woke up early the next morning so she could pack up Fred’s stuff so he wouldn’t be there for long. She didn’t want to look at him if she didn’t she would break down in front of him and Y/N didn’t want to do that.

She got some boxes and threw all of his stuff and put it on the kitchen counter waiting for Fred to show up. Y/N thought about what job she could get since Fred fires her.

A knock on the door startled her. She sighed paddling towards the door and opened it reluctantly.

“Your stuffs on the counter,” Y/N walks him to the kitchen where she stares at her feet not wanting to look at him.

Fred nods and notes that she’s not looking at him. “Just so you know I will never stop caring about you,” He walks himself over as he holds the boxes.

Y/N scoffs, “Whatever.”

Fred sighs, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze to reassure her. She closes her eyes until she hears the door close and when she opens her eyes again tears start pooling again.

Y/N never wants to see Fred Weasley ever again.

For the next few weeks Y/N stays in bed wallowing in her own misery. She cries herself to sleep every night wondering what went wrong.

The only reason she gets out of bed is to go to eat, shower, and read the paper to see if there’s any jobs out there. She watches rom coms where they get the guys in the end and wishes it was her.

One particular time she’s sitting at the counter eating someone bangs on her door.

“Y/N open up, it's been weeks,” George yells, continuing to pound on the door. He’s been here everyday since the break up wanting her to get out of bed.

Y/N sighs angrily walking up to the door opening it letting George in. He walks in and turns around to look at Y/N.

“You look like hell,” George comments, putting his hands into his suit pocket.

“Thank you, you always know how to make a girl blush,” Y/N sarcastically replies rolling her eyes. “What are you doing here,” She says more seriously.

“I’m just worried about it,” George says worriedly. “You’ve been in bed for weeks, it's not healthy,” George states.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” Y/N coldly replies.

“I will always worry about you, you are one of my best friends and Fred is an asshole for cheating on you,” George sternly says.

“I can’t even look at you without crying,” Y/N says looking at her feet on the hardwood floor. George pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not Fred,” George sighs.

“I know but you look exactly like him,” Y/N counters back.

“Well no Fred has that birthmark-,” Y/N interrupted him.

“Okay you can stop,” Y/N snaps holding her hand up.

“I’m just saying I’m not Fred and I want to be there for you,” George tried to reassure the girl.

“Why Fred’s your brother,” Y/N finally looks up at him with a confused look on his face. She doesn’t understand why he wants to be there for her.

“Yeah and he’s a prat for cheating on you and for firing you,” George scoffs. “But I still love him and that doesn’t stop me from not caring about you,” He explains.

“Fine if you want to see me be miserable,” Y/N accepts. George gives her a smile before walking in the flat further and following him.

For the next six months George kept coming to her flat everyday to see how she was doing. He stayed for dinner and if he couldn’t come he’d call her before.

George was being so nice to Y/N and she felt a crush forming on him. But she didn’t want that because Fred would probably accuse her of using George.

But she didn’t want George to think bad of her. Him thinking that she only likes him because he’s Fred’s twin is something she does not want.

Whenever she feels particularly down George drops everything to come and comfort her. No matter what.

Y/N doesn’t want to go to the shop because she’ll see Fred and she doesn’t want to run into him or Angelina. George understood knowing how bad it could hurt her.

They would sit on the couch watching shows and movies laughing and joking with each other. She felt so comfortable around him and she felt her heart race around him.

Y/N would never have thought she would have feelings for George Weasley since she was with Fred. But her feelings change when Fred doesn't want her anymore and now she sees George in a different night.

On one particular night she was cooking some lasagna and waiting for George to show up.

“I got breadsticks,” George yells as he walks in the door with a smile on his face.

“I knew you would,” Y/N giggles pointing her spatula at him. George sets the bag on the table and walks around the counter to go next to Y/N.

“You always make the best food,” George groans smelling the lasagna. “Fred moves in with Angelina today,” He blurts out.

Y/N nods biting her lip getting the food out of the stove and setting it on the table. George told her a few months ago that Fred might want to move in with Angelina.

“That’s great that means I can come over to your flat now,” Y/N teases, getting plates and setting the food out on it.

“I thought you’d be more upset about it,” George’s eyes furrow as he takes a bite of the food.

“I did too but I guess if he’s happy I’m happy,” Y/N sighs leaning against the counter poking at her. “You want some wine,” she asks, getting the glasses.

“Sure I love getting drunk,” George accepts with a smile. Y/N pours the wine and hands the glass to George and pours one for herself.

Only in a few hours George and Y/N are drunk. They’re making out on the couch and neither of them knew how this started. But at the moment they don’t care, they only care about getting their clothes.

Y/N rubs her eyes when she wakes up in the morning feeling the sunlight in her eyes. She feels someone pressed up against and she looks up to see George laying there sleeping.

“Oh my god,” Y/N whispers, getting up out of his arms to go and change into something more comfortable. She sits on her bed before walking out and shaking George awake.

“Give a guy a break Y/N,” George grumbles, rubbing his eyes as the sun peaks in through the blinds.

“We had sex last night,” Y/N snaps.

“Why are you so mad about it,” George asks sitting up.

“Because we’re friends,” Y/N states wondering what George is going to say about it.

“We’re more than friends and you know it,” George snaps at her getting his clothes and putting them on. “Are you telling me that you don’t have feelings for me,” He asks as he stands up.

“Maybe,” She whispers, crossing her arms over her chests. “But it’s be wrong you’re my ex boyfriend's twin. I don’t want you thinking I’m only doing this because you look like Fred,” She explains.

“Is that what this all about,” George asks, his eyes softening. He brings his hands to her cheeks and cups them.

“I like you for you, you know that,” She smiles at him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“I know love.”

[tundrainafrica]

So I found out my friend was pregnant. I got this idea for fanfic lol and I just had a baby fever >_<. During one battle. Survey corps celebrate their victory. Hange and others convince Levi to drink alcohol. After that they both had one night stand. Hange found out she got pregnant, she decided to resigned survey corps to hide her pregnancy from Levi bec she felt ashamed from what happened. Wattt. Thanks.

Thanks for the prompt! This was such a cute one. Sorry this took a while XD.

Title: One Mess of a Night

Summary:

"“That was one mess of a night huh?”

“If I don’t remember, it must have been.” Levi had hoped to keep his mouth a straight line, his eyes staring straight ahead.

But Hange’s wry smile was contagious, the way she opened the door just a little wider, exposing once again the one piece. Hange had always had a tall but slim frame. It was only when she had held her hand over her stomach did the mystery rear its ugly head again."

Hange and Levi had one mess of a night and they are forced to face the consequences.

Link: AO3

Notes: Just getting back into the practice of writing one shots. ;) As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

One night. One mess of night. That was all he knew.

But that was all he needed to badger himself about how utterly stupid of a mistake that was.

Whatever he did. Whatever Hange had managed to convince him to do on top of the five extra mugs of beer, and the threat that if he didn’t finish it all, Hange would.

That time, he just didn’t trust Hange to finish all that beer on her own safely.

Then after that, Hange had become distant, too distant. Hell, maybe even the smallest attempts at distance wouldn’t have worked. Hange would always put an arm around him as he strode into the office, she would always ask him about his morning, how many cups of tea he had

At the least, he had expected her to ask about the hangover.

She did anyway but she didn’t seem at all like the Hange he had gotten used to. The first changes were subtle. Hange was still smiling, she was still asking questions, but she wasn’t putting her arms around him. She wasn’t holding him by the wrist, dragging him to the cafeteria as usual.

As soon as greetings were exchanged, she looked back, prattled to Erwin about her plans for the next experiment. To most, maybe she still could have been Hange. She was subdued in a way only Levi would have noticed.

She needs time maybe?

Or maybe she’s just busy.

There were too many ways Levi could convince himself that Hange was just busy. After all, he wasn’t the best person to confide in anyway when it came to permissions for experiments, logistics and the budgeting.

Still, he hung around the office, he made conversation with Hange about experiments, offers to help out, which she always took lightly.

Busy-ness did that to people, a very forgettable night in a bar could do that to people. Levi gave himself an ultimatum. As soon as that one experiment with the flash bombs was over, he would get time with Hange.

The day she finished the experiment, Hange disappeared.

“A break. Family matters.” Erwin probably said more than that but Levi didn’t think it urgent enough to inquire further.

So he pushed the ultimatum back and focused on work.

One month became two months. Then he asked again.

“Family matters,” Erwin answered matter-of-factly.

“Did Hange tell you more than that?” Levi asked.

“It’s not in our business to pry into the matters of personal soldiers.” Erwin’s tone didn’t change much and it didn’t look like Levi would get much out of that.

“But it is your business to know when she’ll be back.”

“Hange asked for six months at least. When the six months are over, I’ll ask again,” Erwin answered. He bent forward, rested his chin on his hands in thought. “For now…”

“For now?”

“For now, we wait. We get back to work,” Erwin said that part much louder, with one eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘is there any reason we of all people should care.’

Levi shouldn’t have a reason. After all, Hange was a comrade, nothing more than that.

***

The convenient reason came in a painfully slow month or so. For some reason, Levi had picked it up between training, meetings with soldiers and overall, just pretending that her absence was still very much glaring.

“It’s almost Hange’s birthday.” Levi had been excited to say it and consequently, it could have come up just a little louder than he was used to.

Erwin looked up from his desk and dropped the pen. He sat back on his chair and gave Levi an almost fox-like grin. “Yes, it is.”

“Do you plan on giving Hange a gift?” Levi asked. “Just a small token for all her service.”

“We do give some to our highest ranking soldiers. What are you thinking of?”

“Me?” Levi leaned back on the wall, either in an attempt to seem more relaxed or to ease the tension that built on his shoulders over the conversation.

“Any suggestions?”

“What would the survey corps usually give?”

Erwin hummed. “A basket of fruits… Or tea…”

In truth, Levi had known the answer to the questions already. Most soldiers received a basket of fruit or a packet of tea as a gift on their birthday every year. Levi had another motive for that small interrogation.

It needed to seem natural, seem just a little disconnected. “Have you considered who will be giving it?” he asked.

A small motive, and a subtle question that he thought was worth the risk.

***

Getting Hange’s address was easier after that.

Hange’s family home wasn’t too far from Wall Rose, wedged between one of the inner cities of Wall Rose and Sina in a surprisingly more well off district. Despite the familiarity Levi seemed to have with Hange, he felt like a fish out of water there.

His hands gripped the basket of fruits more tightly. He took one subtle deep breath as he scanned the well kept houses that lined the cobble stoned area. It was a good balance between quiet and convenient. The town square was only a five minute walk away.

Hange had never seemed like the type to live in a place like that and for a second, Levi found himself turning left and right, double checking the number by the mailbox one last time before he knocked.

“This is the Zoe residence?” Levi asked automatically before scolding himself. Should he have said good afternoon first?

An older woman answered the door, her hair chestnut brown, her face a little wider but if Levi focused on the eyes, he couldn’t help but notice, they looked exactly like Hange’s, maybe a little bigger without the glasses. “And you are?” she turned her nose up, looking particularly unimpressed at Levi.

Scratch that, he definitely should have said good morning.

“Captain… In the survey corps… Levi Ackerman…” Suddenly, his tongue was lead. His grip on the basket was shaky. “It’s Hange’s birthday and I thought of dropping this over,” Levi muttered as he held the basket in front of him.

The lady grabbed the basket and entered the house without saying so much as a thank you. Consequently, that left Levi in some strange limbo.

Should he be entering the house? Should he be walking away? If she didn’t want him inside, she should have ordered him to stay outside. If she wanted him to come in, she would have asked him to come in.

And it was tempting to go in. Possibly because he was curious about how such a well kept lawn could house such a chaotic person.

Or maybe because, he just so desperately wanted to see Hange.

He shook his head in an attempt to brush away that thought. It did nothing though, only making Levi more fixated on the door frame, the clear line between indoor and outdoors. For a second, he was even estimating how far he could go uninvited yet still remain socially acceptable.

“Levi?” A surprised question. “What the hell are you doing here?” Then a tone which sounded like violence.

Levi jumped at the familiar voice, almost losing his balance at the steps behind him. He heard it, he relished the voice before he looked up to meet her hazel eyes.

It had been months, but it felt familiar, nostalgic and somehow liberating. “What the hell.” He bit a smile back ane gave Hange a once over.

The latter wasn’t in a uniform. It may have been the first time Levi had seen Hange in anything too feminine. He didn’t think Hange to ever be the type to wear it.

When he looked down at her feet then back up at her face again, he figured it out for himself. There was a more practical reason for it, right there in front of him, loud, glaring.

Levi wondered why he didn’t see it almost immediately. Hange is on leave for personal reasons… “You’re married?” The question was automatic, fueled by some strange emotion.

Levi didn’t look up, for fear of seeing some taller man, lumbering behind her, some other man he could have been the reason for that very… glaring bump.

“Married? Who said that?” Hange asked.

There were two outcomes, Hange was either married or not married and if she was confused about being married, that meant….“So you’re not married?” Levi amended his question quickly.

“I’m not married,” Hange answered, her eyes wide, her tone rehearsed.

Somehow, that made everything just a little more awkward.

And it looked like the feeling was mutual. Before Levi could inspect the belly for any longer, Hange closed the door halfway, leaving only her face, and her upper half visible through a half open door.

One subtle movement and an awkward silence later, Levi realized it was just the two of them on the porch of her house. Whatever phantom man he had created for himself was non-existent and maybe never existed in the first place.

Or maybe he’s in the house.

“Then why…” Levi started. Erwin’s words echoed in his head again and ironically, it only made it harder for Levi to speak. “Why...Personal reasons?”

“Why did I take a leave, you mean?”

Was it a stupid question to ask? Was he not supposed to know?

Hange didn’t feel comfortable asking either, her eyes darted from left to right, like every time before, a common sight when she was deep in thought.

Did he have a right to know? He was a comrade, a co worker but having worked long hours with Hange, there were things he had managed to pick up. But would Hange ever appreciate him pointing out?

He risked once, he could risk again.

“You wouldn’t have taken a leave without good reason. You liked your work. I don’t think you wanted to leave.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Then why?” In some attempt at a hint, Levi lowered his gaze, right down to the door, where Hange’s belly would have been and at that point, Hange may have caught his gaze.

The door shifted slightly. “You noticed that I gained some weight…”

“You did,” Levi said. “But…” He looked up as he foraged inside him for the right way to say it. Hange was glowing, especially with her cheeks a little fuller, the apples on her cheeks a little brighter. “It looks better.”

Hange didn’t respond immediately and that only made it more difficult to find better words, only prolonging the silence.

Hange could have sensed it too. “I’ll be back in the military soon,” she said consolingly.

“I’m not here to ask about that. Take all the time you need.”

“Then why come here?” Hange pressed.

“To give you the birthday gift from the survey corps.”

“They could have sent a messenger.”

“Well, you didn’t even need to go out here and greet me.”

Hange sighed, an awkward smile on her face. “My mom told me there was a short man waiting at the porch and I realized, I haven’t seen him in a while so I thought of saying hello.”

“I thought of saying ‘hello’ too, especially since someone had to drop it,” Levi lifted his shoulders and bravely met her gaze. “And I wanna know. Are you married?”

Hange let out a snort. “And I’ll ask again. What makes you think I’m married?”

“Your belly.” It had taken more energy for Levi to muster those words, and he wondered if everything, from his stupid guess to the question that came out of it was stupid, illogical, irrational. “Whose baby is that?” That last question might have been too forward but at that point, Levi had already prepared to turn on his heels and walk away if he saw another man appear behind her.

Hange gave him a consoling smile. “You wanna know?”

“I came here because I wanted to know.”

Hange opened the door only slightly, just enough for her to comfortably lean on the door frame. “What do you remember from that night?”

That night?

There was only one night that had seemed to change the dynamic of their relationship, one night that left Levi permanently confused, permanently frozen and permanently floating in some figurative darkness.

That one mess of a night. As soon as he met Hange’s eyes though, he managed to figure out the rest for himself.

Hange was thinking the same thing too. “That was one mess of a night huh?”

“If I don’t remember, it must have been.” Levi had hoped to keep his mouth a straight line, his eyes staring straight ahead.

But Hange’s wry smile was contagious, the way she opened the door just a little wider, exposing once again the one piece. Hange had always had a tall but slim frame and it was only when she had held her hand over her stomach did the mystery rear its ugly head again.

And Levi had to jump into conclusions or risk never hearing it again. “That happened that night?”

“This?” Hange looked at him questioningly, her hand stopped on the highest point of her bump.

Levi had never been good at math, he had never been good at a female reproductive system, but somehow, just staring first at the belly and back to a questioning Hange then back at Hange’s confused expression had him just suddenly calculating months and days, in mere seconds. “That… that happened that night?”

Hange nodded.

And Levi’s mind was moving again. He had never been one to easily remember, but suddenly, he was picking out the face of every other drunk man in the room.

Moblit had drunk just a bit. Gelgar had drunk just a little too much. And if he did remember correctly, Erwin did have a bottle or two. But it didn’t have to be someone who drank that night right?

Are you married? Are you seeing someone? How many of the questions running through his mind would be appropriate for that moment? More importantly, at that point in time, would Levi even want to know?

His heart was beating quickly, heavily and somehow, Levi could even feel the brittleness which came with a full chest. He let it weigh on him slowly. He looked away, at the lush green around the neighborhood, then the blue sky above.

He could only be grateful Hange hadn’t prodded. There weren’t too many things Levi, could ever say to Hange that could have been appropriate. He was merely a soldier, merely a comrade and at that moment, merely a messenger of gifts.

“Hange, when he or… she… comes out. Who will be taking care of them? Cleaning their room… “

Who is the father???? Something inside him was practically screaming the question.

“My parents said they’ll take the kid. They’re actually excited to have someone else to take care of,” Hange said.

“But let’s say… if your parents weren’t there,” Levi pressed. Maybe it was just his natural instinct pushing him to interrogate her.

“Well they want the baby. I want to go back to work. Who else would take the kid?” Hange cocked her head to one side. “Unless you want to retire from the military.”

Levi shook his head, hard enough to shake the surprise, the absurdity of the statement. “Me?”

“Do you want to?�� Hange’s ears perked up, from surprise. “Would we even have the time? Would we even be in a good place?”

We? “We? You mean… as in you and me?” It was a three step logical process, yet with too many possibilities of misinterpretations, Levi had only wanted a straight answer.

“Who else?” Hange asked.”You said it yourself, it was one mess of a night. And it was one mess of a night for me too.”

“It could have been a mess of a night with anyone.”

Hange took one deep exasperated breath. “It was a mess of a night for both of us. Together.”

“So we really did it.”

Hange’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”

Apparently, he had said some things he shouldn’t have said. Did he seem distant?

Hange spoke up. “That night, after you confessed… we stayed over in the inn then you told me before bed, it was ‘one mess of a night,’ then an ‘utterly stupid mistake.’” She gestured as she quoted. “ The next morning, you said the same thing. And when we were talking about work, I didn’t think you would have wanted to talk about it either...Do you want to?”

“I want to. I wanna know what happened that night.”

Hange looked away. “To be honest, I didn’t want to burden humanity’s strongest soldier with this, especially when you’re humanity’s best hope.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to burden humanity’s smartest either.” Levi huffed. He leaned on the bannister, as his legs started to topple at the weight of the slow going revelation.

“Maybe next time we should stick to one beer each next time,” Hange said, a lopsided grin on her face, a view which was almost consoling. “We just let a little too losoe that time, maybe we were just holding too much baggage.”

“Baggage… huh?” There was baggage, a lot of it. And as he met Hange’s hazel eyes, traced the wisps of hair free from the messy half ponytail, that framed the side of her face, he became deathly aware of it all. “So you’re sure, it was mine… that night… we exchanged words, we did it… and you were distant because of that… baggage?”

Hange nodded. “What else?”

When the baggage lightened, when it melted away slowly, Levi was more certain it had been there, a well worn scab, a knot in his stomach that had seemed almost worn, overdue for a hacking. He looked down, a part of him was just too careful, calculating, as if it didn’t want to be razed to the ground by some shallow misunderstanding over something as petty as emotion.

“Are you sure they’re mine too?”

Hange narrowed her eyes at him. “Who else?”

“It was a mess of a night right? Who else were you with?”

“Only you.”

“Before that? After that?”

“Only you,” Hange repeated, seeming almost exasperated. “How many more clues do you need?”

Levi shook his head. Baggage stripped off, hands firm, grip tight on the bannister, his confidence bolstered, making eye contact was suddenly a walk in the park. “There’s something else I wanna ask you.”

Hange raised one eyebrow. “What do you want, Ackerman?” she gave him a wide fox-like grin, as if she knew the question already.

“What really happened during that best of the night?”

Hange opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter. “It’s a story best served over tea… And I’m guessing you want all the details?”

Levi didn’t respond. The subtle smile on his face was a dead enough of a give away.