#i love it so much i gave myself several moments of hand aches bc i was playing too much....lol 😭

[realboutfatalfury]

FINISHED PLAYING NEO TWEWY!!!!!!!!!! really awesome game.. i loved playing it a lot 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🏂🏂🏂🏂🏂🏂🏂🏂 sooo good everyone should play neo twewy or just twewy in general...

[red-writes]

soft yan! shinsou x chubby! reader

summary: you keep receiving these letters in your mailbox from an unknown person, somehow you find yourself slowly falling for the creepy admirer until one day they decide to reveal themselves to you in the worst way possible—by looming over you while you sleep.

warnings: yandere behavior, insecurities, light smut.

Boo’s note: hi okay, this is dedicated to the annie that asked me for a shinsou fic, tbh I didn’t really know what to make it about bc u didn’t specify but here I hope you like it *^* uhh it’s also unedited im sorrrrry

Everyday at 7:00 am, the mailman drops off mail. Everyday at 7:10 am you’re rushing downstairs after stuffing half a bagel in your mouth to retrieve the stack of envelopes from the mailbox. The letters started appearing a month ago, pretty purple envelopes sealed with a cat sticker were amongst your mail everyday. You picked out the purple one and dropped the other unimportant, plain white envelopes on the coffee table. You took a seat on the couch and hurriedly opened it up.

My dearest love,

Last night I had a dream about you. You’re perfect face was smiling at me, you called my name and even held your hand out to me. You were so perfect I woke up crying. The more time that passes, the more I find myself falling deeper and deeper in the never-ending ocean that is you. So deep, so warm, comforting and gentle. Do you think that maybe one day, we could be happy together? That we could live a life together somewhere peaceful where you have me and I have you and that’s it. To me, that sounds like heaven, a world where the only person I only ever see is you. You’re my everything, my reason to live, to breathe and to continue living in this grueling world. I hope the rest of your day is good, I hope you enjoy yourself at the party.

xoxo,

shin.

After reading you couldn’t help the hard pounding of your heart, it was unusual yes, but you found his fondness for you quite endearing. You clutched the letter and held it to your chest. While it was strikingly odd that he knew about tonight’s party, you didn’t mind. Up until now shin had been harmless, never saying or doing anything too weird or creepy, nothing to warrant you to visit the local police station. You refolded the letter and tucked it back inside of the envelope. Instead of mulling over small details, you needed to find something to put on tonight!

+

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was a charity event for the company you worked for, everyone from the hero deku to chargebolt was in attendance. Big parties like this were not your scene but you had to go, your boss invited you personally and you didn’t want to let him down. You took a drink off of one of the tables and made your way to a less crowded corner of the room. You took rare sips of your champagne as you sighed. This place was definitely not your scene.

“You look fabulous tonight” you hear from beside you, you’re quick to turn your head and your eyes lay upon none other than the mind-jacking hero, Shinsou!

You’re quick to bow, “ah! Mr.shinsou, sir, it’s an honor to meet you” you greet and he’s chuckling softly.

“Hey now, don’t worry about being too formal with me” he says, voice gentle as he rests a hand on your shoulder. Your face is burning, he told you that you looked nice! The number five hero just complimented you!

“Thank-thank you” you say and quickly take another sip of your drink to try and calm your nerves, “you look nice as well”

He gives you a genuine smile, “you’re so sweet”

You can hardly breathe right now, Shinsou first told you that you looked nice and now he was calling you sweet? Was this your lucky day or something?

“Well Shinsou I-”

“Oh! Hitoshi, I’ve been looking for you man!”

Chargebolt walked over to where the two of you were standing and wrapped his arm around Shinsou’s neck. He began pulling him away, going on about how ground zero almost slapped one of the patrons. Shinsou turned to wave goodbye to you and you did the same. Once he was out of sight you released a breathe you hadn’t know you’d been holding in. Tonight felt like a dream, you really didn’t want to wake up from it.

“y/n! There you are, I need to you take pictures of me and some of our guests!” Your boss yells and you’re sighing, downing the rest of your drink before you rest it on a neighboring table.

“Coming sir!”

well maybe you were ready to wake up from it now.

+

The next day at the same time you retrieved your mail, you’d shuffled through it several times and yet you hadn’t found that signature purple envelope. The day after that and even the day after that one there was no letter for you in the mail. It stung. Maybe they’d lost interest in you? Maybe they decided that you weren’t good enough after all?

The sixth day after receiving no letter you’d decided to give up, it wasn’t like you knew this was going to happen. You threw yourself onto your bed as soon as you got out the shower. You’d been doing poorly at work lately, your mind too busy focusing on those purple envelopes rather than the stack of paper work in front of you. You pulled the sheets up to your chin and shut your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t dream of that person or their kind words.

There was an odd sensation you got, it felt like cold air was hitting your body. Were you still dreaming? You didn’t leave your window open. Your eyes fluttered open, your vision still slightly blurry as you came to. Your sat up and rubbed your eyes. From the corner of your eye you saw a figure standing there. Fear that laid dormant until now began to unfurl itself in your gut, you slowly turned your head to face it and there he was.

“M-mr.Shinsou?!” You whisper yelled, he gave you a soft smile and held his hands up in front of him.

“You caught me” he says and begins walking towards you, you’re scurrying away from him on the bed.

“Why- why are you here?!” you hold the sheet up in front of you like a shield.

“I felt guilty about not sending letters for so long..I made you sad and I couldn’t forgive myself for that so I came to make it up to you” he explains and your still sleep filled mind was struggling trying to comprehend his words.

“Letters..you’re the one who has been sending me all of those letters?” You ask and he nods, he takes a seat on the edge of your bed and that familiar pounding of your heart is back. It was him, the person you’d been longing for, for so long now.

“Mhm, everything I said in those letters were true as well, how beautiful I think you are, how addicting your personality is, how absolutely sinful I think your body is..” he whispers and you feel air caught in your throat. Shinsou inches closer and closer to you and in a flash of purple he pins you underneath him.

“Mr.Shinsou..-”

“Hitoshi, call me Hitoshi” he corrects.

His head slowly lowers until his face is millimeters from yours, his breath is hot against your lips and you can’t help but shut your eyes, you’d been wanting this- wanting him for such a long time now. Shinsou’s lips press gently against yours and you find yourself kissing back, your lips move in a glorious synchronous. The kiss was one of passion and hunger; proof that the two of you had been longing for the other. You pulled away from him, lungs grateful for the ability to breathe again.

“Hitoshi..” you whisper and Shinsou sucks in a breath before his hands move downwards to pull at the hem of your night gown.

“Can I?” He asks and you find yourself nodding. The number five hero, the man who has been stalking you, sending you letters that if you were anyone else would find creepy, the man you’d fallen for…

You raised your arms in the air as he slowly began lifting the sheer cloth off of you revealing your nude body to him. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, your arms folded to cover your exposed chest.

“Y-you might be disillusioned after seeing me completely naked..if you regret choosing me to give your heart to, I don’t blame you” you shyly confess and Shinsou’s eyes widen.

“I could never, I've merely dreamt about this day every night for months on end...you are the most beautiful person I've had the pleasure of laying eyes upon.” He says, his hands gently pry your arms away from your body and you can feel hot tears well up in your eyes as he lays you back against the soft blankets.

His lips are soft as they press themselves against every bit of exposed skin, his kisses don't shy away from stretch marks or any of your other insecurities. A warm, heated feeling that blossoms in your chest. 

Love? Desire? Serendipity?

It felt like all three combined into one big ball of sentiment. 

His hands gently massaged your breasts evoking soft mewls of his name from you. His hands slivered downwards to grope the flesh of your stomach.

“Soft beautiful...” he mumbles, his hands move even further downwards and cup the warmth between your legs. The feeling of his hand directly against you has your legs spreading, giving yourself completely to him. His fingers gently rub circles at your clit, your hips stutter up into his touch, moans and whimpers tumble out of your mouth dumbly. The situation you've been so eager for, for so long was finally upon you.

Your back arches off the mattress as he slides a slim finger inside of you, the sensation feels much fuller than your own fingers do. You beg him to go faster, add more and make you feel better than you have ever before and he's shushing your lust filled ramblings with a kiss. 

“I need to savor this moment, I won’t get many more like this” he expresses and your concern is evident on your face but he doesn't allow you to ponder on his words. He adds in another finger and curls them upwards, pressing them against the spongy sweet spot, his head ducks down and his lips wrap firmly around your clit and suck on the aching bud. Your eyes roll back into your head and your body shakes, unable to handle to the newfound euphoria.

“Ah- shinsou! I’ll- cumming!” your cunt spasms around his fingers as your orgasm hits you, you grip onto the sheets around you as your thighs shake.

“You look so pretty like this, so so pretty” he compliments, before you know it your eyes are involuntarily fluttering shut. You're scared, panic fills you at the thought of him not being here when you wake up, you don't want this to be another fever dream. 

+

When you awake the next morning you feel heavy. Your body slumped with the exhaustion of the previous nights activities. You're eyes widen as your hand feels around the bed, your fingers bump into the heat of another body and there is. The yellow halo from the sun is cast over his head as his chest rises and falls.

You scoot in close enough so that your noses are just barely touching. His eyes begin creaking open and purple gems meet your own.

“Good morning”

“Morning..”

Questions about what he meant last night could wait…you wanted spend your time right now loving him.

[her-world-on-fire]

"Did you just kiss me?" {Draco Malfoy x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 3,583

A/N: Vaisey will be reader's ex-boyfriend.

Prompts: 12a. "it was open and i read it."  10f. "Did you just kiss me?"

hii! if u are taking requests, could i get angst #12 from the 150 prompt list with draco x pureblood!reader? where she broke up w her boyfriend bc he cheated but she's forced by her parents to attend his party on Christmas (all pureblood families were invited). draco is there and comforts her but her ex approaches them and fluff #10 occurs? sorry if it's too specific🥺

"You're going and that's final."

I looked over the protective cover staring back at me. I ran my hands through my hair and groaned in frustration. This was the last place I wanted to be. He was going to be there without a doubt. My parents were forcing me to attend a Christmas party, all the pure-blood Slytherin’s were to be in attendance. No exceptions. For weeks I tried to reason with her, but she would not have it.

All it took was one look from him and I was right back where I started. I spent weeks avoiding him as best as I could. Almost every corner I turned, he was there. We shared the same classes and walked the same hallways. Even harder were all the whispers that followed.

"Poor thing."

"What happened?"

"I heard he cheated with Pansy Parkinson!"

I was just leaving the library. I had intended to study for a couple more hours but as I stared at the pages, nothing made sense anymore. The lines on the page didn't look like words anymore. I returned the books before putting my book bag over my shoulder. I sighed as I got up from my chair, trying to adjust after sitting for so long.

As I reached for the door I ran into Terrence Higgs. He almost blocked the door, preventing me from getting out. He was Vaisey's best friend, the two of them grew close being on the qudditch team. "Fancy meeting you here." I spent every Wednesday in the library, and I had not seen him once. He laughed almost nervously, "Where are you off to?"

Immediately I knew something was going on. Terrence almost never made conversation with me. I had overheard that he wasn't overly fond of me. He only spoke to me if he had to, or if I asked him a direct question. I moved to the door once more, "I was just about to head back to my dorm." He stepped in front of the door, "You know I was hoping you could actually help me."

I narrowed my eyes, "You want me to help you?" He nodded unconvincingly. "With what?" I watched as he looked around and stuttered, "With um," He pointed to the book under my arm. "Potions."

"Right." I stepped away from him and left the library. I made my way to the dorms. I planned to go to mine but I figured I would ask Vaisey if there was something wrong with Terrence. As I walked up the steps to his dormitory, I heard a familiar giggle. Pansy Parkinson's laugh was coming from his room. I tried to come up with possible reasons. Maybe they were studying. Pansy Parkinson was in a relationship with Draco Malfoy. There was nothing to worry about.

I reached for the door, and the giggles stopped. I opened the door and found her under Vaisey. He looked up, his head moved away from her neck. His shirt was unbuttoned, I didn't say anything. I closed the door and made my way down the stairs. I heard the door slam behind me. "Y/N." I kept walking, there was nothing he could say that could possibly justify what I saw. "Wait!"

I stopped, and turned to look at him. He has hastily tried to button his shirt. He had missed a button, making it uneven. I shut my eyes, trying to keep the tears in. "How long?"

"It's not-"

I didn't want to argue, and he wasn't going to give me answers. He reached for my arm, but I pulled away. I kept walking. No one else was in the common room, but somehow in a matter of hours, everyone knew.

I was dreading the party. For the first time in two years, I was going without him. I didn't tell my parents what happened, but they pieced together that we weren't together anymore. I looked back at the protective covering, and unzipped it slowly. Velvet. Jade green.

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

I arrived to the party a few hours late. I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to. I approached my mother. She was speaking to the host. I greeted them both and then went to the kitchen. Most were gathered in the living room beside the fire. I had forgotten how lonely these functions were. I looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone I knew.  No luck. I poured myself a drink to pass the time. I looked at the clock. 9 pm, another 2 hours and I was clear to leave.

I heard the clink of glasses, the host was going to make an announcement. I rounded the corner and stood by the living room. Everyone gathered in the living room. I started to feel uneasy, he was here. I tried to keep my eyes fixated on the floor. I gently stirred the drink in my hand, keeping my eyes on the liquid inside.

"No. I am not going to tell you again Draco."

I heard harsh whispers beside me. He scoffed, and his mother joined the group in the living room. He stayed by the kitchen, leaning against the marble countertops. I acted like I didn't hear the exchange. Draco's body language said everything. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his face had a scowl on it. Odds were he was forced to be here too. 

It was the perfect opportunity to get the younger generation together in hopes of preserving the pure-blood line. That's what all these gatherings were for. It also gave the hosts a chance to show off their elegant mansions. The rich loved to boast, they loved the competition.

We had attended the same gatherings for as long as we could remember. We shared the same classes, and were even in the same friend group. Draco was the seeker for the qudditch team. We were well acquainted. We just hadn’t spent much time together since we were both preoccupied.

The host was making the traditional announcements. Thank you for being here, and so on.  I sighed and looked at the clock again. It had only been 5 minutes since I last checked. Draco chuckled to himself, "I know the feeling." He looked over, "You mind?" I shook my head and he came and stood beside me. He was dressed in an all black suit. He had gold cuff links and black dress shoes. His fingers had several expensive rings wrapped around them. "These are terribly dull." I remarked, and he nodded in understanding.

Even though neither of us mentioned it, we were sharing the same thought. I'm sorry this happened to you. I looked up, the host was still going on with her announcements. I couldn't help myself, my eyes scanned the room. I inhaled deeply as my eyes caught him. Draco followed my gaze. I quickly looked down and took another sip of my drink. I heard him shuffle beside me. He pulled out a small silver flask. His eyes invited me in. I smiled and brought my cup forward. I watched as he poured from the flask. "Thank you." I said gratefully, I couldn't imagine how I was going to get through the rest of the night.

I took another sip. "Would you like some company for the night?" I asked, normally I wouldn't be so forward. It didn't hurt to ask. He chuckled, as he slipped the silver flask back into his suit pocket. "I wouldn't mind it."

Soon the host dispersed the group and they all moved back to their groups. Draco and I settled in the kitchen. We sat on the chairs by the counters. We talked for the rest of the night, helping the time pass much faster.

"Crabbe didn't say much after that." He said pleased with himself. We both laughed, even gaining some attention from those passing by. Soon after Draco looked down at his watch, "If you'll excuse me for a moment." He got up and disappeared into the living room. Spending time with him made me feel normal again.

I had other friends but they had been walking on eggshells. They weren't sure how to approach me. They treated me like I was fragile, and granted I was. But it was nice to just forget about everything, even of it was for just an hour or two. It was almost midnight by now and the party was still humming vibrantly. I heard footsteps approach, I was expecting to see Draco.

Instead, it was Vaisey. I got up from my chair, I was having a good night. I was not going to let him ruin it. "Just wait." He held out his left arm in front of him. "I'm not going to try anything I just wanted to give you this."

"No. No more gifts no more letters, please. I just want to move on."

"This one is different. Just take it, and I won't bother you anymore. You can decide if you want to talk to me, on your own terms. Just please." He stepped forward slowly and brought a gift forward. It had a silver wrapping paper, and a sterling green bow. I took it and he backed away slowly. "I'll give you some time to think." He retreated back into the living room. I sighed and placed the gift on the table.

I stared at it, the smart part of me said to just throw it away. Don't open it, just get rid of it. But part of me wanted to know. Why was this so special he had to hand deliver it? Curiosity got the best of me. I carefully pulled back the green bow, and the silver box came undone. It fell in cascades. It was a collection of small boxes. I opened each one, and they came with part of a letter. The flaps of each box had photos of us collected over the two year period we were together. My eyes brimmed with tears, I looked back at the frozen pockets of time. We were so happy, so in love. Or at least I had thought.

Pictures of us at games together, me wearing his jersey, his name painted on my cheek. I exhaled as the tears flowed steadily. My heart ached. I wanted this, I wanted to be happy again. I wanted to be in love again. But it just wasn't possible, not with him. I pieced the letter together.

I can't express how truly sorry I am. There was nothing that you did wrong. I was selfish and impulsive. I should've never agreed to meet with her. But you deserve to know. You deserve to know it all. So I'm going to tell you the complete truth. It started when you went to the library to study for O.W.Ls. After our game I went to celebrate with friends. One thing lead to another and I got drunk. Pansy came on to me and I didn't stop her. That was the first time we slept together. It continued until you caught us. In total, we were together for 6 months.

The letter kept going but I couldn't keep reading it. So many different things were running through my head. 

“The first time we slept together...”

“For 6 months...”

I left the letter and the gift on the table. I walked outside of the mansion. Once I got outside I moved to the back of the property. My legs gave out and I finally felt it all. I had been trying so hard to keep it together but this was the last straw. I couldn't do it anymore. I let out a sob and felt the tears stream down my face.

He said it wasn't my fault but his actions said otherwise. I wasn't there and he decided I wasn't enough. I continued to sob. The gravel was digging in, but I couldn't bring myself to move. The cold wind showed no mercy. The air ambushed me, making me feel cold. I heard the door to the mansion close. I kept quiet for a moment, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I heard the footsteps against the gravel. They got closer and closer.

I looked up and found Draco looking back at me.

"It was open and I read it." Draco held up the gift, and the accompanying letter. I couldn't even be upset. He was going through the same thing I was. I sighed and wiped my tears. "I'm so sorry." He dropped down and put the letter and gift on the floor. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."  I couldn't help myself. I cried even harder.

He pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. "It's going to be okay." He held me as I continued to cry softly. After a few minutes it died down. He pulled back and pulled out a few tissues. He had anticipated what happened when he got back and grabbed a few. I took them and cleaned myself up. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this."

"It's okay, really. I understand." And he did. As he read the letter, it was clear for him too. He took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders. I went to protest but he shook his head and reassured me he was fine.

"Let's get you out of here."

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

I decided I needed to thank Draco in person. It was the least I could do. I decided the walk would help clear my head. It wasn’t very far, only about 10 minutes. When I arrived at the manor, the gates opened before me. I kept walking to the manor. Once I reached the front door I was greeted by Narcissa. She had always been fairly kind to me. I can only imagine it was due to my lineage. “To what do we owe the pleasure dear?”

I laughed a little, “I just wanted to talk to Draco for a moment, if that’s okay.” She nodded and opened the front door. “He had to go and fetch something in town, but he should be back soon.” I should’ve written him to see if he was going to be busy. It had slipped my mind. I hesitated walking in. “I can just come back another time-”

Narcissa put her hand on my shoulder. “Oh nonsense! You’re welcome wait here.” I didn’t want to seem rude. I hadn’t really spoken to her last night, it seemed only fair. She lead me inside into the kitchen. “I’ll get you a cup of tea.” She gestured for me to sit, so I did. She took a cup from a cabinet. “I can’t help but have overheard what happened.”

I tensed up, this was the last thing I wanted to talk about. Of course she knew, it was her son’s girlfriend after all. “Draco was so torn up about it. You both seemed better last night. I’m glad he has someone like you.” She placed the cup of tea in front of me. “Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

She asked me a few questions about my parents, but nothing to invasive. I was beginning to regret staying when the front door opened. Narcissa called to him, and he made his way to the kitchen. He looked a bit surprised. “I just wanted to talk to you for a moment.” He nodded, and I stood. I thanked his mother again. He motioned for me to follow him. We walked to the stairs, “Sorry, for just showing up. I should’ve written to you first.” He shook his head, “It’s not a problem.”

He opened the door to his room. I walked in and he shut the door behind us. “I don't know how to thank you." He sat down on his bed. "I'm sure I'll think of something later." He chuckled. We talked for a couple of hours, continuing some of our previous conversations.We were going to be returning to Hogwarts in 3 days. “Perhaps we can catch the trolley together.”

Draco had been left in an unfortunate situation. Most of the friends he had were shared with Pansy. In the ride back home he was stuck with Blaise and Pansy. Neither of them had spoken a word. He didn’t want to have to relive that.

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

Draco had kept to his word. We started spending a lot of time together. His presence became comforting. Of course whispers began to follow us again. I tried my best to ignore them. Pansy glared at me in the hallways, as if I was the reason their relationship fell apart. I found it amusing. Her and Vaisley truly deserved each other.

Draco and I were sitting in the astronomy tower. We were studying for a test, but I noticed he was awfully quiet. He was just staring at the wall, a blank expression on his face. “Draco?”

“I think I’ve finally figured out how you can repay me.” Draco stated, making me sit up. Curious, I closed my book and leaned forward. I did say that he could ask for a favor. I almost thought he had forgotten about it. “I’m all ears Malfoy.” He laughed, "Let's have a proper first date." I blinked in shock. I had thought of Draco romantically. But I didn’t anticipate anything to come from it. We had both just gotten our hearts broken, and here we were testing fate. I bit my lip, as I thought over the consequences. Draco tried reading my expression.

“You know I would love to.” 

He decided to keep the location a secret. I tried getting information out of him, but he wouldn’t budge. “But I don’t even know what I’m supposed to wear.” He thought for a moment. “Something warm.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. We arrived at the common room and he walked me to my dorm. “I’ve got some things to attend to, I’ll send an owl soon.” He placed a kiss on my forehead before going back down the stairs. I opened my door and sighed. I looked at my closet and pulled some warm clothes. It was still snowing pretty heavily, but spring was almost upon us.

I got ready and kept an eye out for any owls. A few hours later I heard soft taps on my window. I opened it to find Draco’s owl. I gave him a treat before he left again. I opened the letter.

I had more to do then I intended. I sent a car for you.

Draco

I folded the letter back up and left it on my dresser. I made my way to the gates and sure enough, there was a car. My mind was drawing a blank. As I looked out the window, I watched the snow fall.  It was mesmerizing. The ride wasn’t long, only 15 minutes. Once the car came to I stop I thanked the driver. Once I opened the door, I looked in awe. It was a small cabin. It was decorated beautifully. Warm yellow lights wrapped around it, the walls were covered in a thin layer of snow. Draco was standing at the door, he came and met me in the snow. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He opened the door and we were greeted by warmth. He closed the door and hung his coat by the door. He took mine as well. “Thank you.” He lead me to the kitchen. There was an array of sweets and hot chocolate. I looked at him in shock, “You did all this?” He nodded. “I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for so I got an array.”

No one had ever done something so kind for me. I looked at him in awe. “And I got these too.” He showed me an array of movies. “This is perfect.”

We settled on a movie and moved to the couch. It was right by the fire place. He put in the movie then came and joined me. He took a blanket and placed it over us both. I moved closer to him and he smiled. He moved his arm and invited me closer. Once I did he put his arm around me.

After the movie was over he revealed another surprise. Gingerbread houses. It was something I always wanted to do. I remember mentioning it at the Christmas party. “I know its a little late but-”

“I love it.” I was so happy he remembered such a small detail. Shortly after we got started, his house fell apart. I couldn’t help but laugh, he had managed to set all of this up but the gingerbread house was what got him. “What are you going on about?”

“How did you manage that Draco?” He walked over ad smeared the wall of my gingerbread house. He licked his finger and smirked, feeling proud of himself. “Just like that.” I stared at him for a moment and watched as his eyes trailed to my lips.

He moved closer, the tension between us grew. I thought about how happy he made me feel. I thought about how he had been there for me. In an impulse I leaned forward and closed the space between us. Draco responded to the kiss almost immediately. We broke away and he smiled, "Did you just kiss me?" I laughed and rolled my eyes, going to pull away. He responded by pulling me in once more.

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

[besanii]

“you don’t love me anymore?” for wangxian from the angst print list please ❤️❤️ (bc i love to hurt myself 😭😭)

Lan Zhan, I know you can hear me, so I’m just going to say it, alright?

You’ll probably be upset with me when you wake up and realise what I’ve done, but I’m going to do it anyway. You gave your life to save the world, so it’s only fair that someone should do the same for you.

Don’t worry about me. All members of the Phoenix Tribe will go through nirvana at least once in our lives and are reborn again. I’m just going through it a little earlier than expected, that’s all. 

He finds him dancing across the lake, surrounded by giggling water spirits, his long hair fluttering behind him as he leaps and twirls, his bare feet barely grazing the surface of the water. The lotus blossoms in the lake sing in response, pink and red petals unfurling as he passes, the soft glow of their spiritual essence hovering in the air like fireflies to greet him. There’s a soft, faraway smile on his face as he greets them with a bow, before he’s gone again in a flurry of silk.

His heart thuds painfully in recognition and he’s stepping out onto the pier before he can stop himself. 

At the first creak beneath his feet, all motion over the lake comes to a halt. It leaves him suddenly self-conscious as the young man pauses in mid-turn and looks at him curiously over his shoulder. 

“Wei Ying,” he breathes, frozen where he stands. “You’re back.”

Other immortals have always talked reverently about the Crown Prince of the Phoenix Tribe and his beautiful eyes, an enchantingly dark, silvery grey with starlight in their depths. Once upon a time, he had been held in those eyes above all others and they had shone for him and him alone. Now they hold no recognition whatsoever.

The realisation is like a lightning strike through the heart, shattering the world beneath his feet.

“Shangshen,” Wei Wuxian says with a polite bow, his fingertips clasped in front of his chest. “What can I do for you?”

“Wei Ying,” he says, horror creeping into his veins and into his throat, strangling his voice as he speaks. “Do you know who I am?”

Wei Wuxian’s head tilts to the side, confused.

“Of course I do,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re Lan Wangji, the God of War.”

There was a time when Wei Wuxian would greet him with a beaming smile and boisterous laughter and throw himself into his arms without hesitation. The Wei Wuxian he remembers would have gleefully wormed his way to his side and batted his eyelashes at him until he acquiesced and showed him the affection he demanded. He searches for an inkling, a ghost of that Wei Wuxian now, only to be met with polite indifference.

It punches the air from his lungs until he’s shaking; he clenches his fists to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing hold of Wei Wuxian.

“Is there something wrong, Shangshen?” Wei Wuxian asks. Lan Wangji exhales.

“Do you not remember me?” he asks, already afraid of the answer. “Do you not remember...us?”

Wei Wuxian covers his mouth with a hand and laughs and for a moment, Lan Wangji’s heart soars with hope. Maybe this is a game and Wei Wuxian is only testing him—

“Us?” Wei Wuxian laughs again, but there is confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean? Have we met before?”

When he had woken up from his slumber after three hundred years, the fragments of his soul finally pieced together again and his heart beating to an unfamiliar rhythm in his chest, it was to the news that Wei Wuxian was gone. That he had exchanged his heart and all fifty thousand years of his cultivation for Lan Wangji’s resurrection.

The news had come, two hundred years later: the Crown Prince has returned, and Lan Wangji was out the door in an instant. Wei Wuxian is a phoenix, and phoenixes can be reborn. Wei Wuxian had come back to him at last.

That tiny shred of hope plummets back into the pit of his stomach and crumbles into dust. Wei Wuxian’s mother had warned him this may happen and his brother had cautioned him against hope, but he had not heeded their advice.

“Wei Ying,” he says numbly. “Wei Ying...I’m your husband.”

He waits with bated breath for any sign of recognition or recollection, but the confusion does not lessen in the slightest. Instead, a frown appears on Wei Wuxian’s face and he takes half a step back, suddenly wary.

“Husband?” he echoes. “Shangshen, you must be mistaken. I’ve never been married, so how can I have a husband?”

“Lan Zhan! We’re married now, so you can’t run from me anymore!”

Fondness bubbles up in his chest as he feels a pair of arms wind around his; he looks down to see Wei Wuxian beaming up at him, his dark grey eyes sparkling with mischief. He looks breathtaking in red.

There is no deception in his eyes, no amusement, no teasing; no matter how hard Lan Wangji tries, he cannot find a trace of his husband in Wei Wuxian. Still, he has to try. Wei Wuxian did not give up on him even in death, he refuses to give up on him in life.

“We were married five hundred years ago,” he tells him desperately. “It was arranged between the Nine Heavens and the Phoenix Tribe. Everyone thought we were being forced into it, but it was a love match.”

He remembers the whispers, the pitying looks they had received at the ceremony. The poor Phoenix prince, forced to marry a God almost twice his age when he could have his pick of any immortal in all the realms. He knew their age difference was larger than most and that marrying him would ruin Wei Wuxian’s chances of ever making a better match after his soul returns to the universe, but Wei Wuxian had only laughed and said it was none of their business who they chose to love.

The Wei Wuxian before him now only looks uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “A-Niang tells me I went through nirvana five hundred years ago and have only just woken up from the rebirthing sleep. I have no memories of my previous life.”

There is guilt in his eyes when he looks at Lan Wangji and his voice when he next speaks is kind, almost pitying. It stings more than incredulity.

“I don’t doubt we loved each other in my previous life,” he says. “But regardless of my feelings then, I do not wish to tie you to a marriage when my feelings are no longer what they once were.”

Lan Wangji feels the ground crumbling, piece by piece, around him as the words sink in; his legs buckle beneath him, sending him stumbling backward a step before he can catch himself. Still standing over the lake, Wei Wuxian’s body jerks forward as if to come to his aid. His fists flex repeatedly by his side but he does not move or speak further.

“You—” the words scrape his throat raw. “You don’t love me anymore?”

Wei Wuxian inhales sharply at the brittleness of his voice. His grey eyes are wide with shock and uncertainty as he stares at Lan Wangji; his lips part without a sound, the ghost of a tremor passing through them.

“I-I don’t—” he looks away quickly, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I’m sorry. I know you said we’re married—if you wish to divorce, I am willing to bear that responsibility—”

Lan Wangji gasps at the sudden, searing pain that erupts in his chest; he brings a hand up to press against it, feeling the way it races erratically beneath his hands, threatening to tear itself apart. Wei Wuxian turns back to him, horrified, reaching out to help, but Lan Wangji halts him with an outstretched hand.

“I-I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian stammers again as he struggles to hold himself back. “Is there—are you alright?”

Lan Wangji takes several deep breaths, focusing his spirit inward to stabilise himself; the pain gradually subsides, leaving him weak and aching.

“Our marriage was decreed by both the Nine Heavens and the Phoenix Tribe,” he says heavily. “Everyone knows you are my husband, and I yours. A divorce would have lasting consequences for both realms. It is not so simple.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I guess—”

“If that is your wish, however,” Lan Wangji continues, staring at him with a hollow, wrung-out expression. “If that is truly your wish, I will do everything in my power to grant you your freedom.”

He straightens, clasps his fingers before him, and bows low at the waist. It is too formal a bow for a High God to give to an immortal half his age—he hears Wei Wuxian’s startled gasp, but pays it no mind. He is not bowing to just anyone. He is bowing to the man who sacrificed himself, the entirety of his existence, for him; the man who had done it all out of love for him. He is bowing to his husband, to whom he owes a debt too great to repay. The least he can do now is to set him free.

And then, before Wei Wuxian can recover from his shock to respond, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Lan Zhan, I’m giving you my heart, so you better take good care of it, alright?

If...if I survive this, if I am reborn again...A-Niang says I won’t remember anything about this life, so...this Wei Wuxian—the one who fell in love with you at first sight, the one who married you and willingly carved out his own heart to save you—this Wei Wuxian will die, and another one will take my place.

If you fall in love with him after I’m gone, I think I’ll be jealous. So please...promise me. Promise me that no matter how much you love him, you’ll save some of that love for me.

Goodbye, Lan Zhan. I love you.

Notes:

shangshen (上神) - High God

I guess you can consider this in the same verse as this previous prompt? Maybe? I don’t know where it fits exactly, but it’s Phoenix!WWX and Dragon/God of War!LWJ as well.

// buy me a ko-fi //

[kyber-crystal]

Maybe It’s Meant To Be

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.7k

Summary: Sometimes, love finds people in unexpected ways. In this case, fate has extra special plans for America’s golden boy and one of SHIELD’s best agents in history. And you know there’s no running away from fate once she’s set out your futures for you. 

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, angst, and once again, soft steve :)

A/N: I haven’t attempted a soulmate AU in over a year. this is one of my fav works but it’s really poorly written rip. The age gap between you and Steve is ~3 years. 2017 AU where they made up after the Accords :) Steve’s back with his WS look bc that suit was hot af

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ this is for you! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING SO ACTIVE ON MY BLOG AND FOR YOUR SWEET AND SUPER ENCOURAGING WORDS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. AND @marvelsswansong BECAUSE YOU'RE MY IDOL AND I LOOK UP TO YOU YOU'RE AMAZING

Soulmates.

You'd heard plenty about them growing up. Seeing your parents' perfect relationship blossom over the years piqued your interest, and for the longest time, your only wish was to find someone who could love you with their whole heart and soul and mind, like the way your Mom and Dad loved each other.

Unfortunately, as all stories must come to an end, love stories had to find their ending. And not all of them ended on a high note.

Their jobs should've kept them apart from the beginning. Your mother was head surgeon at one of the best hospitals in Brooklyn, and your father was head of SHIELD's navy division. Constantly out and about, they were rarely granted any time to rest. Yet they still found a way to make things work; and it all started because of a run-in at a café around the corner.

Then when you were fifteen, you got word that your father had been deployed overseas again, but this time, he wasn't coming back.

You had to stand there and watch your mother slowly fall apart, breaking down a little more each day until she fell gravely ill. A mere week after her diagnosis of cardiomyopathy, she passed away in her sleep.

A person's soulmark didn't appear at a specific time. It could show up at any point in their lives, when the Gods believed the time was right for them. When those Gods felt the time was right for you to find out who it was, you'd feel a slight tingle where the mark was etched into your skin.

Some people didn't receive the soulmark at all. Along with this came a sense of freedom to fall in love with whoever they pleased, but often times it would end in a loveless relationship. But they were additionally granted the ability of being able to carry on by themselves.

If your soulmate got injured in any way, you would feel the same pain that they endured. And if they died, you would carry a weight around with you for the rest of your life that slowly progressed into a disease. So ultimately, those left in the world without their soulmate would also die in the end, further proving the claim of humans being unable to live without love.

One by one, you watched your friends find their match. They would excited come up to you, goofy grins on their faces as they showed you their marks. You were happy for them in the beginning, of course. But as years went by, and you passed adulthood with still no sign of your designated soulmark, you slowly began losing hope. There was no point in looking forward to the future when you watched one fall apart before your very eyes.

Maybe it was because of your job. None of the Avengers had received their soulmarks either, asides from Tony and Pepper. But they were an exception. Everyone could see it coming from the day they first met, judging by the way they lovingly gazed at each other from across the room. It was a match made in heaven.

You believed that maybe, just maybe, you were destined to be alone. So when you woke up one morning with the burn mark on your wrist, you were taken completely by surprise.

"Hey, Tony? Bruce?" you asked, walking into the lab with a frown. "I need to ask you guys a quick question."

"Ask away, Killer," Tony nodded, using the nickname he'd given you years ago when you first joined the initiative. "What's on your mind?"

"So, um..." you fiddled with the sleeve of your sweatshirt for a moment, before pulling it up to reveal the mark, "this happened."

"That's a soulmark," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you rolled your eyes. "But why would it appear now? I don't see any sign of me meeting them anytime soon."

"When did it appear?"

"I don't know. I woke up this morning and saw it."

"Let me take a look at that," Bruce carefully took ahold of your wrist, squinting as he adjusted his glasses to peer at the mark, "huh. So it appeared last night...have you felt any side-effects?"

"Not that I know of yet, no..."

"If you start feeling any severe symptoms, I can prescribe you some medication to deal with the pain, though I doubt that's going to happen. In the meantime, we need to figure out who this could be."

"Imagine if it was someone who already died, and I'm slowly dying right now," you joked.

"No, if that were to be true, you'd be lying in a hospital bed right now."

"Does the symbol have any specific meaning?"

"That I'm not so sure about," Tony shrugged.

Bruce was silent as he began typing away for a bit, before turning the screen over to you.

"I've checked out over a dozen different sites about this, and..."

"And what?"

"Well...once both people discover their mark, they have a week to find each other before both of them disappear off the face of the earth, forever."

"Sounds like a damn time bomb to me," you muttered. "What the hell? I thought that the point of this whole thing was the gods trying to push us with someone else! Not the other way around!"

"I don't know, Y/N," Bruce sighed. "Feel free to do your own research, but everything I've read up on so far says the same thing."

"So basically, what you're telling me is I'm gonna die if I don't find out who the hell has this same mark as I do," you repeated.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, I'll have to worry about that later. Got a briefing with Cap, Bucky, and Wilson in five. Fury's gonna kill me if I'm late again," you breathed out as you tugged your hoodie's sleeve back down. "See ya."

"Agent Y/N," Nick Fury gave you a curt nod as you burst into the meeting room, breathless. "I hope you slept well last night."

"Of course."

"I need you four to track down a weapons dealer in Skagway," he explained as he handed Steve a black manila file folder, "shut down the base, download the intel onto the flashdrive. You’ll be staying at a safe house in Juneau afterwards for about a week to keep things on the down-low in case something goes wrong. Simple in-and-out job."

"When are we leaving?" Sam questioned.

"You're taking off in half an hour. Suit up."

You sighed. Finding your soulmate would just have to wait, then.

...

"Y/N, look out!"

You quickly whipped around and narrowly missed a bullet whizzing past you, as Steve tugged you around the corner, an arm wrapped firmly around your torso as he hid you both behind his shield.

You gasped as you felt a sharp pain in your chest, and Steve immediately pulled away from you in alarm, gripping your shoulders worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to steady your rapid breathing, “I’m fine. But we’re gonna have to split up from here if we wanna get the job done faster.”

“Y/N, I can’t-”

“Steve,” you interrupted, the firm tone of voice making him immediately shut up. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Go find Sam and Bucky, and I’ll meet you guys by the rendezvous point as soon as I’m done. Okay?”

“Alright.” He looked around for a moment before stepping away, as if he was hesitant to leave you on your own.

Ignoring the slight ache in your chest, you parted ways, darting down the hall with your guns up and ears alert. 

From there, it was easy to fall into your usual routine. Keep all eyes and ears open; don’t hesitate, shoot on sight unless ordered otherwise. If necessary, engage powers but if not, use your fists or bullets. The mantra repeated itself over and over in your head as you followed through with your job.

You hid behind a tower of wooden crates, back pressed up against the steel walls. “Sam. Status update?”

“Controls room with Barnes, disabling all security systems. Steve’s retrieving intel from the north wing. You?”

“Outside on standby,” you murmured, keeping a finger pressed to your ear. Three technicians were loading equipment onto crates as the other six stood guard several yards away. “I make nine hostiles on the load dock straight ahead at twelve o’clock. Three dozen in total scattered around the area. Most likely preparing for an overseas arms trade. We’ll have to stop them.”

“And...done. We’re heading your way,” Bucky reported. “Be there in three.”

“Roger that.”

Exactly three minutes and two seconds later Bucky showed up, with Steve and Sam in tow. You came out from your hiding spot and began making your way towards the loading dock where the agents were stationed. They were quick to stop what they were doing and noticed the four of you approaching, whipping their snipers out and proceeding to open fire.

...

Your breath came out in white wisps of fog as you got caught in between a fistfight with one of the three dozen men on the docks, the freezing cold slowing all your movements and making them feel more sluggish than usual. If it weren’t for the thick material of your suit and your enhancements, you would’ve succumbed to the harsh weather hours ago.

The man captured you into a tight headlock with his thick arm but despite your frostbite you were too fast; you quickly whipped around and grabbed his wrist, twisting it to the side. His eyes widened slightly as he cried out in pain, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the frigid Alaskan air as you swiftly dodged each one of moves as he attempted to come at you, countering with a sharp right hook to his jaw. 

His body slumped to the ground with a thump. 

“Why the hell do you even carry around a sniper if your fists do all the work for you?” Sam yelled over the cacophony as he released Redwing, swooping down from the rooftops. “Seriously, you don’t need guns! You’re strong enough as it is!”

“I prefer versatility in fights, Wilson!” you yelled back, grunting as you dodged a blow to the stomach, sweeping out your attacker’s feet from underneath him as his head smacked against the wall, before sliding down to the ground with a dull thud. 

“Y/N, look out-” Bucky called out, but it was too late. You didn’t get to hear his warning in time before you felt something cold and hard hit your lower abdomen. A yell of pain ripped through your throat as you felt a sticky warmth spread across your skin, your knees hitting the ground as you clutched the wound.

At that exact moment, Steve felt a sharp pain flare up his side as well. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, “Buck, cover me so I can get to her.”

You were barely clinging on to life by the time he reached you. Your breathing was heavy and labored, your eyes beginning to roll back as you struggled to stay awake. Everything hurt. Your arms and legs felt like they were weighed down with bricks. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t open your mouth to scream, either - you had no energy left to do so.

“Come on, Y/N, stay with me, please stay with me,” he muttered as he began carefully applying pressure to your wound. You let out a hiss of pain at the same time he did. “Just hang in there for me, please. Sam’s getting the Quinjet ready. We’re gonna get out of here in just a few minutes, okay? Please don’t die on me.”

“Look, if I don’t make it-”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke in between clenched teeth while fighting back tears of his own, “you’re not going to die. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not on my watch.”

“Steve…” you croaked out, the stinging from the wound almost becoming impossible to bear. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the second, your body throbbing painfully now that all the adrenaline had worn off. It was a struggle just to take in a single breath and to stay awake. "I'm so tired, I can't do this anymore..."

He disappeared from your line of sight as your began seeing spots at the edges of your vision momentarily, before reappearing and pulling you into his lap, trying to put pressure on the area of injury again in an attempt to stem the bleeding. But it didn’t seem to work. There was so much blood. So much of it, coming out so fast. There was no way you’d last out here for longer than ten minutes before bleeding to death.

"Stay with me..." he murmured as he looked up around him. "Hang in there for a few more minutes, please…Damn it, Sam, how much longer is this gonna take? Y/N’s down. We gotta get her to the safe house as soon as we can. She’s bleeding out.”

"Three minutes, tops. I’m circling the perimeter as an extra precaution," Sam replied. "You guys hang tight for a sec."

"We don't have time!" he raised his voice. "Just hurry the hell over here."

"I'm so sorry," you choked out before going into a coughing fit, blood dripping down your lips and chin much to Steve’s alarm. "I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for being reckless and not keeping a look ou—"

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, "There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just save your energy for later, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

"Hold my hand," you begged hoarsely.

"I already am," the super-soldier answered, but his look shifted to that of an alarmed one when he realized you couldn't feel it. "Y/N—"

"I'm cold," you said weakly, already feeling your limbs grow heavy and numb and your vision growing blurrier with each passing second. "I'm so tired, Cap, I just wanna sleep—"

"No no no, please don't leave me," he pleaded as he felt his head begin to spin as well. Where had the sudden wave of dizziness come from? "Hang in there for a little longer, please, I l—"

You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence before your eyes fluttered shut and everything went dark.

...

When you came to, your throat felt dry and raw, the metallic taste of dried blood around your lips and chin overwhelming your senses as you adjusted your eyes to the harsh bright lights streaming into the room. It looked like you were in some sort of antique coastal house, strangely void of belongings with the only decoration being a plain floral calendar hung on the wall opposite you, above the fireplace.

You were still in your suit, but your wound had been treated and wrapped up in a thick set of bandages. The couch you were on was old but extremely comfortable, so you found yourself not wanting to sit up at the same time you wanted to get up and look around.

The blinds were drawn shut, but the sunlight still managed to shine through. It was light outside, but you  weren’t sure what time it really was. The walls were a dull grey, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faint ticking of a nearby clock and probably Bucky or Sam talking on the phone upstairs with someone in hushed whispers.

You finally pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing around at your surroundings. Someone quietly entered the living room and you looked up to see Steve. His shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing that you were awake.

“Hey,” his voice came out so softly it took both of you by surprise. You moved over slightly to make room for him to sit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” you groaned lightly, feeling a dull ache in your stomach where you’d been hit. “But other than that, I’m fine. What about you? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“Body aches that come and go, but I’m fine. It isn’t your place to be worrying about me right now though, Y/N. You got shot.”

The curtains fluttered and a cool breeze rushed in, making you shiver. Steve took notice and stood up to go light up the fireplace, then sat back down and wrapped the fleece blanket around your body. You let out a small sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You knocked out for over twenty-six hours .”

“I’m fine, Steve, just tired...hey, how’s Bucky and Sam?”

“Sam’s upstairs radioing Fury on the mission status. Bucky’s taking a nap in the guest room.”

“Oh. Okay. So, I-” you were interrupted by a sharp stabbing sensation in your wrist. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Language,” he joked lightly, but when he saw the obvious pained expression on your face, his face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just...I get those random pains from time to time. I don’t know why, but...they’ve gotten worse since we took off for Skagway and then came here...”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “I should’ve kept a closer watch over you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine...I should’ve watched my own back better.”

You both fell into an awkward silence for several minutes before he spoke up again, the realization finally dawning on him. 

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Your wrist."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked down and saw the star glowing brightly, sending a white-hot pain down your arm. "What about it?"

Steve pulled at his shirt's sleeve for a few seconds before lifting it up to reveal the same exact symbol.

"We're soulmates," you breathed out, the realization hitting you like a flash flood.

"Yeah, I guess we are, huh," he smiled softly.

“W-when did yours appear?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Mine appeared in the morning...I showed it to Tony and Bruce and they said I had a week to find who it was or both me and my soulmate would die. So I guess we got lucky, huh? Only four more days, then...”

“Yeah, we did,” he exhaled. “I’m glad you’re the one. I can’t imagine living out the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“But Peggy...”

“She found her soulmate decades ago,” he explained, “which explained why our relationship was so short-lived. I didn’t expect to find mine...especially not after coming out of the ice. Maybe I had this coming from the get-go, I’d wonder...”

“Then how come they’d appear now?” Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t get it. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Because it was only this year that I accepted it.”

“Accepted what?”

“That I’d fallen in love with you, and I kept that inside for far too long.”

“You...what?” You were officially rendered speechless. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, face breaking into a gorgeous, million-dollar grin before turning serious again, lowering his voice. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. You are my infinity and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my present and my future, and I hate that I couldn’t see that sooner. I should’ve known from the start that Peggy and I wouldn’t work out, but I never understood why...until I met you. I didn’t believe in the concept of soulmates because I felt I was undeserving of that love, but then you came along...and I started hoping and praying I’d find someone who’d love me as much as I love you. So now that I know for sure it’s you, that it always has been and always will be...I couldn’t be more happier that you’re my soulmate.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached forward to brush your hair away from your face and wipe the stray tears that fell, before wrapping an arm around you and gently pulling you towards him.

“God, I made you cry, I’m so sorry,” he choked on a sob of his own. “I’m the worst.”

“I’m not mad at you, Steve,” you sniffed as you wiped your nose with your sleeve, and looked up and cracked a small grin. “You’re just so cheesy.”

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t catch what he said. 

“You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled.

“I love you more than you know.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He then brought a hand up to cup your face, allowing his thumb to lightly skim against your cheek, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

When his lips met yours, it was like you were turning back the clock. Everything in the world stopped and held its breath,  and all the hurt, all the sadness and heartache and pain bottled up inside your body, washed away.

...

BONUS

“HOLY SHIT, Y’ALL ARE SOULMATES?”

The sound of Sam’s screeching made you finally break apart for air. You could’ve been like that for two minutes, two hours, or two weeks, you weren’t sure.

You blushed and quickly averted your gaze. 

Steve’s face was as red as a tomato. “Yeah. We are.”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM SOON! PAY UP, BARNES! YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS.”

“Come on, man,” Bucky groaned, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “We’re gonna head back home soon, anyways! And you’re not even poor.”

“A bet’s a bet, Barnes.”

“Of course you two bet on it,” you groaned. “Classic Sambucky activity.”

...

NINE MONTHS LATER

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Captain Rogers,” Fury announced, a rare smile gracing his normally stoic features. 

Steve did his best not to break down sobbing as he slid the ring onto your finger. With the backdrop of the waves gently crashing against the shore and the sun slowly sinking lower and lower into the horizon, he leaned down and cupped your face in his hands, passionately pressing his lips to yours. Your soulmarks glowed brightly in tandem, lighting up in a brilliant gold hue. 

Needless to say, there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house. 

[fandom-blackhole]

Hayloft- Ezra x Reader P.4

AN: Part 4 is here!! This week has been hectic, again, so I am sorry that the headcannons never got published, but they will at some point! Anyway I hope you enjoy!!

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

Masterlist

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: AFAB reader, descriptions of depression, mentions of death, ATTEMPTED ASSAULT, slight nudity, cleaning (bc cleaning sucks)

The days and weeks following the night in the spare bedroom of the house just passed in a numb blur. Everything had happened that night so quickly that I hadn’t really processed what all had actually gone down in that tiny room until about days later. The first three days I couldn’t tell you anything that had happened, I had purely just been moving on auto-pilot stuck in my head; one thing that I could tell you though is that I didn’t once step out of the house, and barely left my room. My father refused to look at me for at least a week, let alone talk to me in any way. Mealtimes were tense and full of food that just didn’t carry any flavor any more. A few times Anthony had tried to talk to me, but for every word, he said I could only see his mouth moving and for every glance, I gave him only made me see and think of Joshua. Anthony for all his faults knew that I was suffering and he was trying to bring me back from the numb state that I seemed to be stuck in. He started making small comments about something Ezra had said to him during the day’s work after offering to help with the dishes or he would occasionally walk into the house for glasses of water for him, dad, and Ezra and would motion out the window where I would find Ezra himself standing just far enough away that he could meet my eyes and give me a small smile. Anthony even allowed me to make the plates that he took out to the barn for Ezra, and upon returning with the empty plate he would quote Ezra’s praise for the food with an eye roll, trying to act like he didn’t care or was annoyed; he always failed. Though, because he never failed to bring a small smile to my face, which in turn caused him to smile, and for a moment things would feel ok, but it never lasted long.

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

After that first week of being away from Ezra, I couldn’t take it anymore and I snuck into the spare room and sat on the cot he had been using, my legs crossed and my hands in my lap picking at the skin surrounding my nails. As I sat there I took in the room before me, I couldn’t stop the tears that fell down my cheeks in what seemed to be an endless river. Nothing in the room was out of place, everything where it had originally been placed, and all the cots were made. The room looked as if Ezra had not even been here and that only served to make me cry harder, but as I looked down and moved one of my hands to muffle a sob I noticed something small on the floor that was out of place and didn’t belong. Standing up slowly, I wrapped my arms around my middle as I slowly made my way over to the small sprig that laid on the floor. As I knelt to pick it up I knew instantly that it was part of the handful of flowers that Ezra had pressed into the pages of my copy of Pride and Prejudice. The flowers’ small puffy round white and purple petals still as vibrant and fragrant as the day they had fallen into my lap. 

Feeling my legs start to get wobbly from the emotions the small flowers had pushed over me, I clutched the small branch of dried petals and walked back to Ezra’s old cot, this time laying down with the tears freely flowing down my cheeks. Curling into myself, I held the fragile flowers perhaps too roughly to my chest, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. 

Eventually, my crying slowed to a stop. Exhausted I couldn’t bring myself to move, more than to pull the blanket over me and bury my head in a pillow that still faintly smelled like Ezra. That night I fell asleep on the small uncomfortable cot still clutching the flowers to my chest and wishing that Ezra’s scent that still clung to the blanket and pillow was stronger, or that the man himself was there to hold me and whisper into my ear lovingly in his sweet lilting accent. 

As I slept, for the first time in the week I had not been near the man my heart longed for, I was able to actually sleep peacefully, without waking several times aching for the man I couldn’t reach.

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

After that first night that I had fallen asleep in the spare room on Ezra’s old cot, I couldn’t help myself but continue to sneak into the room every few days, each time falling asleep on the same cot. The pillow and blanket had lost Ezra’s scent after a couple of weeks of me sleeping there, instead taking on my own scent. Even though all traces of him were missing from the room, I couldn’t help but to continue to sneak into the room. 

After his scent had faded from the blanket, I found myself wrapping myself in the blanket anyway and looking out the window he had often looked out of. Instead of looking to the stars as he often had done, I watched the barn, or more specifically the hayloft where I knew he to be resting. Each night I watched and I not once seen so much as a flicker of movement or light, but the thought that he was close by brought me a little comfort, even if it was shortly washed away by the melancholy of the knowledge that I could not go to him. I found myself, as I watched the hayloft for any sign of Ezra, nervously chewing on my bottom lip to the point that  I tasted the coppery coiling taste of my own blood on my tongue.

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

My father’s plan of keeping me just doing housework and my weekly Saturday town visits didn’t last very long. In fact, it only lasted roughly three weeks before he needed the extra set of hands, and much to his dismay he allowed me out of the house. He still found ways to keep Ezra and I from crossing paths as we worked, always sending one of us to do work away from the other, and always trying to keep me working within eyesight of himself. 

Being outside again felt lovely. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed doing work in the field until I had stopped completely. And even though I wasn’t out in the field with Anthony, my father, and Ezra often, I still enjoyed when it was necessary, because it meant that I was closer to Ezra again after weeks apart. It seemed as if things had completely restarted to the way they were going before I left the note for Ezra to find that first night. Though things seemed to have progressed even further back than that, at least before there had been small talk and small touches. Now we were only able to share short meaningful glances at the other, and only heard the other’s voice as we spoke to anyone but each other. At this point, I ached to be held by Ezra and feel his calloused fingers tracing my arm again, and from the glances, he sent my way I could only imagine he felt similar, though neither one of us seemed ready to make any moves that might cause us to be separated completely again.  

Roughly two months out from harvest time, my father decided that we needed another pair of hands since he had limited my work. As a solution, he had gone to Mrs. Robertson and asked to borrow her eldest son, Tucker, the son she and my father had been trying to set up with me for the last year and a half with no success. Tucker was a hard worker and was a nice enough guy, but he had a tendency to make me uncomfortable and he always was trying different ways to get the two of us alone. My father and Mrs. Robertson seemed to both believe that Tucker was just taken with me, but I wasn’t convinced from the interactions we had had. 

The first few days of Tucker being on the farm were calm and moved slowly. When working together with him I always kept up my guard and only spoke with him when necessary and keeping my words short and to the point. Tucker stayed civil and for once didn’t seem to be pushing to get me alone, and I thought that he was finally starting to realize that I wasn’t interested in him. As my guard started to come down, I started to notice that Ezra tended to glance in my direction more now that Tucker was there, almost like he was checking on me, scared that when he wasn’t watching Tucker would take me away. Each time I caught Ezra’s eyes as he looked over at me I started to send him small smiles that I could only hope to express my love for him and not Tucker. 

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

Things were slow and anticlimatic the first week with Tucker, even with Ezra’s tense glances in my direction every time I had to work with him. As the next week rolled around things started much the same as the previous week. But, as seemed to be the new pattern in my life, as I was finally getting back into the groove of things, even without Ezra’s closeness, things went downhill, and quickly.

It was halfway through the week and not much needed to be done with the harvest, so my father had sent me to the barn to do some light cleaning and sorting. The barn, which hadn’t really been cleaned in over a year, needed more than the light cleaning that he had told me to do which caused me to sigh loudly, but there was nothing to do but this so I just got to work. We had never really had animals on our farm besides a clutch of chickens at one point so there weren’t any animals to clean up after, only old tools that need to be cleaned and sorted. I had decided early into the process to start at the back of the barn and make my way to the front as I worked. If I did things right, cleaning the barn would take all day to finish, but I wasn’t going to complain if it meant that I could work alone, away from Tucker and my father, for the first time in days. 

Moving quickly, I was almost halfway through the sorting through the tools scattered around the barn when I heard footsteps outside of the entrance to the barn. I didn’t pay much attention to them, figuring my father had sent Anthony for water for the four of them working in the field. Humming I bent over to pick up a wrench to throw into the toolbox a few feet away, I felt someone grab me from behind. I could only gasp in surprise as I was pushed completely into the dirt floor of the barn, the wrench still in my hand, though it was ripped from my grasp before I could realize what was happening. Shortly after I heard the wrench being thrown away from my reach, I felt someone’s breath on the back of my neck one of their hands held the back of my head, keeping my face in the dirt and the other gripping my waist harshly. As soon as I got over my initial surprise I started to try and fight back, squirming as much as I could in the person’s grasp only to have them lift my head up by my hair and then slam it into the dirt hard enough for me to see stars, but not enough to really hurt me or knock me unconscious. After the person slammed my head down the finally spoke up, though it was hardly above a whisper as they breathed out my name into my ear, “Hush now, we don’t want dear old daddy to come running and find you like this now do we?”

As the person spoke I couldn’t do anything but whimper and close my hands into fists as I realized just who had me pinned. Tucker. I couldn’t say I was surprised by any means, but that didn’t change the fact that I was scared out of my mind, and mentally berating myself for letting my guard down enough that he was able to pin me down before I could so much as react. He whispered my name into my ear again before pulling back and speaking a little louder, “Now this is how this is gonna go sweet cheeks. I have been trying to get you alone for what feels like an eternity, but you have always managed to escape me every time, but not this time. No, this time I have you, and you’re going to do everything I say. Now first things first I want you to flip over and take that shirt you’re wearing off, and then we’ll work on getting that fabric off your pretty little bottom.”

As he spoke Tucker flipped me over so that I could see his sick smirk and lustful eyes looking down at me. Disgusted, I went to reach up and claw at his face with my nails, but it was like he had expected it so before my hands had come anywhere near him, he used the hand that wasn’t clutching the bottom of my shirt to smack me across the cheek, hard enough that it sure was going to leave a mark and the sound had echoed around the barn. I felt tears start to stream down my face as he ripped off my shirt far from gently before one of his hands moved to pin both of my hands above my head and the other moved to grope my breast roughly over my bra. Crying now to the point that I was hiccupping and sobbing, he moved his hand down towards my bottoms before harshly whispering, “If you don’t shut that pretty little mouth up, I’ll do it for you, now stop it.”

I felt helpless as I tried to struggle against him and get free, or at least stop his assault, but that only caused him to grip my wrists tighter to the point where his nails were digging into my skin, which caused me to whimper loudly and ask him to stop through choke out sobs. As I got louder he quickly moved his hand from my waistband to clutch harshly at my neck, “I said be quiet you little fucking slut.”

Gasping harshly for air, I noticed a shadow quietly approaching where I had been pinned to the floor, and right as I felt that I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen I felt Tucker being dragged off of me. At that point, I didn’t care who my rescuer was, as I rolled onto my side and gasped for air as spots danced in my eyes and my ears were ringing. It took me a few seconds but I was able to regain my breath and glance over to where the person who had saved me had pinned Tucker to the floor of the barn and was from the looks of it beating him to a pulp. Once my hearing came back I was also able to make out low mutterings and curses every few words. As I crawled closer I started to recognize the man, whose back was to me. 

I watched stunned for a few seconds, tears still falling down my cheeks, as Ezra’s arm kept swing at Tucker’s face, even after he had gone limp. After shaking off the shock I finally crawled over close enough that I could place my hand on Ezra’s shoulder and hoarsely whispered, “Ez, please stop, you’re going to kill him...”

Ezra, for all the brutality, that he had just shown, turned his head gently and looked into my eyes softly as he touched his forehead to mine, even as he still knelt of Tucker’s unconscious body, “My beautiful sweet flower, he deserves to be taken away from this mortal realm if he thought for even a second to harm your graceful beauty if he thought that he could touch you even as you cried and struggled against him. No, my precious flower, he needs to pay.”

Ezra after saying those words went to turn back to Tucker, but I placed my hand on his cheek before his head could even more away from mine and whispered out his name softly as new tears sprung to my eyes, “Please...don’t do this, just….just…”

“Just what flower? Ask and I will do it for you. Anything for you,” Ezra’s eyes met mine with a new intensity as he spoke. Fully crying now and not trusting my voice I just wrapped my arms around him and pulled him away from Tucker to the corner of the barn a few feet away. Ezra, the smart man that he is, instantly picked up on what I wanted, and even though he still seemed to be thrumming with anger and adrenalin, he pulled me the rest of the way into the corner where he allowed me to curl up into his lap as he stroked my hair with his bloody hand and whispered loving to me. We sat there like that for a few minutes before I finally calmed down and looked up at him. It was obvious now that as Ezra had been in a blind rage Tucker had managed to fight back, at least a little, as a purple bruise was starting to form on the underside of his chin, and his shirt was torn in some places. Softly brushing my fingers over the new bruise I followed it with a kiss and a watery smile as I whispered, “I never thought I would have my own knight in shining armor…”

Laughing soft Ezra shook his head and placed his forehead against mine once again, “Oh flower, I am anything but a knight in shining armor. I am far from the virtuous men who did nothing but good for the ones they loved and their kings. While they had a code and rules they still followed, I would throw every last one of my morals, or what is left of them, if it meant that you were safe and unharmed. I am sorry delicate flower that I was not here to stop him sooner….”

(As always thank you for reading, and any and all likes, reblogs, and comments are really appreciated! If you would like to be added to the taglist let me know! If I have this planned correctly there will be two more parts, and possibly some short side stories I might add! Anyway have a lovely week end!)

Tags: @babybelou​ @farrvey​ @anatanotegami​ @revolution-starter​​ @cadelinhadopedropascal​​ @lucifurrr​ @coolfishoperatoreagle​

[blahblahwritings]

Contracts and Captains. - IV

A/N: Remember how I posted something before one of my other fics saying that I had been consistently updating for weeks? Neither do I lmao who was she? Don’t know her anyway heres the fourth chapter of this black sails fic.

Words: 1823. Honestly I’ve been writing this since about 12pm I don’t know how its so short and its probably shit bc I haven’t written anything in months.

Warnings: Mentions of vomit as per the last chapter. Think thats it lmao. See you in three months.

As your eyes opened, there were a blissful couple of seconds where the previous night’s encounter didn’t exist in your memory. But, just like the sun flooding the room, unwanted flashes of vomit and slurred words rose like a tidal wave in your minds eye. You rolled over, burying your face and groaning into the pillow out of sheer embarrassment as a dull throbbing started in the depths of your skull. 

Why did you keep drinking? You could’ve simply had one or two before retiring for the night and you wouldn’t have met that boatswain or thrown up on your own boots. What was his name again? Ben? Boyd? No, they weren’t quite right. Either way you made a mental note to apologise again whenever you next saw him. 

Slowly, you tugged your still clothed limbs from the thin sheets, trying not to jostle your stomach too much for fear of whatever was left in there making an unwelcome appearance. Your pants were scuffed from where you took a tumble outside the tavern, your shirt was half undone, probably from a failed attempt to undress before not-so-gracefully falling into bed. A single boot was thrown on the floor alongside your coat, the other still stuck on your foot. What a mess. 

A hot bath, that's what you needed, and a hearty breakfast if your insides don’t bring it back up. Pulling on the other boot, you made your way to one of the girls working downstairs, trading her coin to fill the tub in your room. You must’ve looked rough as you passed her to get to the man at the bar because when he turned to look at you, his brows shot up, disappearing behind his hair. 

“You look like you could use a little hair of the dog, love.” He chuckled, eyes scanning your disheveled form. A grimace was your immediate response. “Some food then.” He offered, filling a bowl with something that you didn’t stop to look at as you practically inhaled it. The man watched you with a knowing smirk and had you not felt so terrible you’d have spat out a snarky comment. You chose to gulp down your water instead.

“Thank you.” You huffed with a small nod, tossing some money on the counter before you headed back upstairs. The state you were in just added to this morning's growing list of regrets but you weren’t quite sure if you cared how you looked to anyone else right now. All that was on your mind was a piercing headache and a good soak.

Stripping off, you stepped into the water, sinking down slowly as your body got used to the heat. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you rested your head on the back of the tub, your aching muscles beginning to relax. Scented oils and soaps were left on a stand by the bath. Working a generous amount between your palms, you massaged your limbs and torso getting rid of any tension and purging the memories of last night’s… festivities. In the quiet of your room, you took a moment to trace the small scars that littered your form, fingers landing at last on the freshly healed knife wound from only a few weeks ago. The soft pink flesh was still tender, and if you moved the wrong way it would ache. It was dangerous to be alone on this island, in this line of work. You needed friends, not just contacts. A crew, perhaps. 

Letting your mind wander, you thought about your new found place among Flint’s men. You had to keep bringing in leads to be of any value to him, lest you risk being tossed aside and left in the dirt. He and his crew were among the most revered on the island, therefore cementing your part in that would bring security. It would ensure that other crews would leave you alone, as you were important to someone they feared and the consequences of harming you could be severe. 

Then again, there was a little more than security on your list of perks as you thought more about the taller man from last night. He was kind to you, not that the others weren’t having bought your drinks and all, but, he made sure you were safe and fed. Billy Bones. You recalled. Replaying the meeting in your head, you winced at the slurred introduction and the puking soon after. Why did you care about how he saw you? Was it because he was the crew’s boatswain or because he was handsome and softer than most pirates you’d met. 

Catching that last thought, you shook it from your head, refusing to let it take root in your brain. Attachments like that are a weakness here and you cannot afford to have those. You’d only met the guy once and he probably didn’t want anything to do with you anyway, especially after that drunken show you gave him. Cupping a handful of water, you splashed your face, scrubbing any further thoughts of the man from your head, instead, choosing to focus on finding a new lead for Flint. 

They would be leaving to chase down the details you gave him yesterday in a couple of days, if not sooner, which meant you probably had around two weeks to find something of substance upon their return. You’d struggled last time but after sending out letters to old friends in neighbouring ports, you were hopeful something would turn up. 

Padding your way to the dresser, you pulled out some fresh clothes and got ready, feeling much better than you did even an hour before. The food had settled your stomach and the water you guzzled seemed to bring some life back into your face as when you left to go hunt down some work, the barman from earlier spouted something along the lines of ‘A whole other woman’ when you walked by.

---

An uneventful morning led to an uneventful afternoon. There were no new letters or leads and the streets were pleasantly calm compared to usual. You certainly weren’t complaining, you had been feeling better since this morning but your body was still recovering. The easy day was probably just what you needed. You were sat on the beach, sipping some water and watching passersby as you sketched in the journal you kept.

It was something you’d taken to keeping since arriving in Nassau just over two years ago. A small leather book to help keep track of potential jobs and record anything interesting that happened. Really, though, you just loved to draw. You’d already filled a couple just like it with sketches of people, ships and landscapes that caught your eye, often accompanied by your messy scrawl. You were just about satisfied with your latest addition when Mr Gates clapped you on the shoulder making you jump and slam the journal closed. You’d never shown anyone the contents before. 

“Sorry, Miss Devereux, didn’t mean to startle you.” He began, chuckling lightly at your reaction. “I heard you and the lads had quite the night..” He moved to stand by you as you got to your feet, dusting the sand from your pants. Tucking away the book, an amused smirk finds its way to your face as you look at him. 

“Depends on who you ask.” You replied. “How were they this morning? Feeling sorry for themselves?” Your brows raised in question as you both started aimlessly wandering along the shore. A snort met your ears as his head fell forwards, looking at the ground then back at you. “I didn’t see the majority of them until at least noon and they were still in a sorry state, although I wonder how you must’ve been. I heard that you hurled your guts up right after meeting our boatswain.” Gates mused, eyes crinkling as he watched your entire face turn a lovely shade of red. You tried to keep your cool but your expression faltered into one of sheer embarrassment. Apparently, this was hilarious as Mr Gates exploded into a fit of hearty laughter, and as much as you told him to stop you couldn’t help but have a good chuckle yourself as you covered your face with a half-sandy palm at the thought.

When you both regain your composure, he gives you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Don’t worry, the only people who know are Billy and myself, the men still think you can hold your drink.” He winked. You made a move to argue that you could in fact hold your drink but he began talking about the plan to set sail the day after tomorrow. You listened intently and explained that you were awaiting correspondence from friends in other ports to supply more promising leads upon their return. 

---

It had been four days since the crew left in search of another haul using your most recent information. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, you’d made some money here and there through smaller jobs and pickpocketing but overall, there was nothing of real interest. You spent the days reading anything you could get your hands on or drawing and you’d even had your eye on some paints in one of the markets, but all you could do was wait. Checking for mail at the front desk of the inn you were staying at every morning had become a routine, desperate for any work or ships that you could relay to Flint. It was on the fifth day that you had gotten a response from someone in Port Royal.

As you read over the letter for the third time, you could feel your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart hammered in your chest and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was far too good to be true. Surely this was a myth. A prize of this magnitude was simply unheard of. Your eyes scanned over the paper again, barely able to focus on the words because your hands were trembling so violently. Calm down. You told yourself. It can’t be the truth. You thought as you stared at the other envelope that had arrived alongside it. At the bottom of the letter it read:

“P.S

Should you doubt my information, I sent you the correspondence shared between the dead man and the merchant with evidence pertaining to this gold. Best not ask how it came into my possession.

Your dear friend,

Josiah.”

You ran to shut the windows to your room and close the drapes. If anyone found out you had this information and the evidence to go with it, you would surely be killed for it. Tearing open the paper, you unfolded its contents. It was all here. The initials of the merchant, R.P., details alluding to the existence of this gold and the name of the dead man involved in plotting the course it would be on. 

Vasquez.

[jessethejoyful]

part three bc i’m weak-willed

more of this art school au that is dominating my life tbh 

read it here on ao3

BAZ

Class on Monday is an unexpected balm to my stress, and I’m feeling rather pleased with myself when I walk out. The professor was very complimentary, as they always are, but this felt different. Maybe because I’d felt so unsure about the piece. The colors had felt off, and I told the professor as much, but he told me it conveyed something private and almost intimate about me.

Which is cool, but a little scary. I don’t like to convey too much about myself, not to anyone.

Dev had texted me that morning about getting lunch, and I agreed to meet him in the student union after class, where several fast food restaurants had set up storefronts. I don’t have much interest in the food, but I do get myself a milkshake and let myself enjoy it. Meanwhile, Dev sits down with a tray full of fried food, and I try to ignore how the smell makes my stomach twist. My cousin might also come from money, but he never really acts like it. It’s almost refreshing sometimes.

Almost.

“So you ready for the show?” Dev asks, shoving food in his mouth like a cretin. He even talks with his mouth open. “Aren’t you taking like three pieces this time?”

I grit my teeth, fighting down the swirling stress that threatens at the edge of my mind. The art supply store in town is hosting another huge art sale party. I always attend with one piece, and am out of there before ten o’clock. That much of a crowd, milling around and talking about art - nope. My social anxiety doesn’t allow for it. But Fiona was up my ass this summer to do more (“You could be making a mint off these, Basil! What’re you doing, holing up with these at home, building yourself a nest? Don’t be such a coward!”) and I’d finally given in, if only to get her to shut up. I had three large paintings ready to go, but I still felt the nerves like a hot poker shoved into my side, burning me.

“Of course I’m ready,” I say through my teeth. “It’s in two days. Unlike you, I don’t procrastinate everything until the night before.” Dev grins at me, and he’s got a mouthful of food, and it’s horrific.

“Well, I can’t wait to see them.”

I stare at him, straw halfway to my mouth. “You’re coming? You’ve never come to one of my shows before.”

“Thought you might like some support.”

“What ever gave you that idea?” Dev shrugs and doesn’t say anything, focusing on his disgusting food again. “I… thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Basil.”

I head back to my apartment, my classes over for the day and with half a mind to take a nap, even knowing how it’ll ruin me later. Usually, I’d spend the rest of the night in the studio, but the sore ache behind my eyes is getting to be too much. And I’m hungry. I’m regretting not eating lunch, especially since that had been the point of meeting Dev today. My cousin had looked dubiously at my milkshake, but hadn’t commented.

In the end, I decide to go to the bakery down the street. The scone Snow had given me had been wrapped in paper with the store’s name printed repeatedly across it and it had actually been quite good, even when it was lukewarm.

When I step inside the cushy space, I immediately regret it, because there’s Penelope, Simon’s other friend, behind the counter. Another potential girlfriend? Probably not.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think this idiot boy is trying to take over my entire life. But it’s too late for me to step out, she’d called out a welcome when the door chimed, so I step over to the line. I stare hard at the pastries behind the glass without really seeing them.

“Basil!” Penelope greets me, and I’m taken aback by the friendly tone. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.”

“I’ve - never come in.” I swallow down any snarky remarks, ready to make nice. “Snow brought me one of your scones the other day, and it was quite good. I wanted to see the source.” She smiles at me, and her chubby cheeks push up her garish turquoise glasses.

“Well, you came at a good time. Just took the cherry scones out of the oven. How many would you like?”

“Ah - just two, I think.” Penelope nods and pushes the glass open, wrapping the two pastries in wax paper before slipping them into a bag and handing it to me. “How much do I -?” She’s shaking her head, and I frown at her.

“Take ‘em. I’m glad we’ve a new convert, and I expect to see you in here more often, alright?” And then she winks at me, inexplicably.

“Yeah… alright. Thanks, Penelope.” She looks pleased, and gives me a small wave as I turn to go. I leave feeling oddly warm, if a bit confused by the kindness I’ve been shown by Simon’s two friends, after the treatment I’ve subjected him to. Maybe they’re all just too nice for their own good.

My keys are in my hands, hovering by my lock, when I have an idea. I go across the hall and knock before I can talk myself out of it, and wait. Snow could easily not be home. But then I hear a thump and a grunt inside, followed by a moment of silence before the lock clicks and the door swings open. Simon is staring at me, brow quirked and glasses on, half of his hair poking up like a rat’s nest.

“Yeah?”

I try not to frown as I dig into the bag and take out one of the scones, holding it out to him. He takes it slowly, looking at the pastry and then back up at me, eyes wide. And then I turn away, quickly unlocking my door and diving inside before Simon can get a word out. I shut myself in and lean back heavily against the door, breathing heavily and closing my eyes.

What was I thinking? What the fuck was that? Simon probably thinks I’m an asshole as well as a fucking weirdo now. Not like it matters.

Safely in my apartment, alone, I kick off my shoes and wander through to the second bedroom of the flat, which I’d converted for my use to a type of studio. But it’s carpeted, so I mostly use it for storage, supplies and paintings. The three I’m planning on selling are carefully leaning against the wall, staring at me.

One of them had sprung from an absolute fit, when I’d woken in the middle of the night with the shakes, drank three mugs of tea, and shoved paint across a canvas until I was happy (or as happy as I get) and went back to bed. The other two were from this summer, when I’d spent two dreadful weeks at home, closed into the studio my father had decked out for me three years ago for my birthday. That was the only good part of going back to the family manor. That, and my little sister, Mordelia. I give her a lot of shit, but I’m quite fond of her.

Those two pieces aren’t within my usual style. One is far more colorful than anything else I ever do, with flowering branches and a fading backdrop. The other was a fluke, some error of my subconscious. It was of a kneeling figure, a dancer, in her final resting position in the bottom corner of the canvas, bathed in dim light but with darkness surrounding the edges. It reflected Snow’s animation, and I hadn’t realized it until I was through. I might have painted over it, but it was beautiful, and I ended up keeping it.

I’m ready to be rid of it. After everything that’s happened, I don’t need any more reminders of Simon Snow. There’s no way he won’t avoid me now, and I try to tell myself it’s for the best.

I should make some tea.

PENNY

I’m exhausted when I get back to the apartment. The evening rush was hellish - we’d run out of filling for the eclairs, and I thought the roof was sure to fall it.

I might have been grateful if it had.

All I want to do is rip off my clothes, take a bath, and go to bed, but instead, Simon greets me at the door like a dejected dog, having another one of his stresses.

“He actually came into the bakery?” he asks, following me as I go into the kitchen to shove a piece of cake I’d stolen in the fridge. “Like, he was actually able to get through the door? I thought vampires had to be invited in.”

I look at him skeptically, furrowing my brows. “Simon - what? How is he a vampire? Aren’t vampires pale? His skin is nearly darker than mine.”

“With a widow’s peak like that, you’d doubt it?”

“He can’t help his hairline, Simon.” I’m too tired for this conversation. I continue to my room to put on my robe for the bath. Simon stays in the living room, but keeps talking to me, elevating his volume.

“Was he rude? Did he shove over the other customers in line? Did you see him put poison in my scone?”

“You ate it, didn’t you? You’re not dead yet. If you were, I’d have some peace right now.”

“It could be slow working!” I come out of my room, comfy in my fluffy yellow robe, and stare at Simon tiredly.

“He was incredibly polite, Simon. He complimented the one you gave him, and thanked me by name when he left. I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up over. He’s not out to kill you.”

“He’s a wanker, Penelope! You said it yourself, he’s endlessly contrary!” Simon leans over the back of the couch, spreading his arms at me wildly. “He’s trying to turn all the people in my life over to his side!”

“Simon, for the love of God.” I close myself in the bathroom and flick the lock loudly for good measure, making sure Simon hears it. I hear him groan, but he doesn’t keep trying to yell at me. I turn my music on loudly and start the bath water, sliding in before it’s finished filling and not minding the heat.

I glare at my nails. They’re caked with both flour and clay. That’s the struggle of being a sculptor - it’s all but ruined my hands and my nail beds. I try to let them soak in the bath, beneath the foaming fizz coming from my bath bomb, but I’m too fidgety. I dry my hands and reach for my phone, typing a quick text to Micah to see what he’s up to. Maybe I can convince him to bring me dinner.

Sure thing, he texts back almost immediately. Curry?

Perfect.

SIMON

This new job has honestly been really good. Even if it did take me a bit to figure out the register. It kept honking at me anytime someone tried to put their card in, and it took me too long to realize it was in the wrong mode.

Anna’s been very sweet, gently reminding me of things I forget when I need it. She blushes whenever I ask her a question and it’s kind of adorable.

It’s Wednesday, and we’re decorating the store for the event this evening, another one of the big local sales. Penny has two pieces she’s putting in, and I’m excited to see the party. I know a few of the other kids from the art school will be there, and I’m intrigued to see what they decide to sell, if I’d seen any of them hanging in the halls at school.

I can’t help but wonder if Baz will be there. Baz. Basil. I haven’t seen him since Monday with the whole scone thing. I figure he’s been holed up in his studio, being a recluse and hissing at sunlight, or whatever. I couldn’t help but take in the dark circles under his eyes the other day.

I don’t imagine he’ll be here - that would mean actually interacting with people. Smiling. Selling. I can’t fathom Baz willingly doing any of those things. The thought makes me snicker.

We’re closing up at seven for an hour, so we can all run home and put on nicer clothes. I end up taking a shower, trying to tame my curls to look a little more presentable, and dress in the smart suit Agatha helped me pick out. It’s sky blue, perfectly fitted, and I push the sleeves up to my elbows so my tattoos are visible. Blank ink wings, my designs, on the insides of both of my forearms. The white button-down underneath is well-fitted also, so if I get hot (which I tend to), I can easily take the jacket off and still look nice.

Penny finishes up about the same time, stepping out of her room and coughing. I look up from my phone and feel my jaw drop. She looks amazing. Her normally frizzy curls have been tamed into a sleek braided crown around her head. She’s wearing a deep green, flower-covered dress with a very vintage feel to it, with a boat neck and a natural waistline, and a pair of shiny heels finish the look.

“Holy shit, Penny,” I say, pushing up from the armchair, “you look - amazing. Seriously.”

“Such a way with words,” Penny says fondly, going to pick up the box holding her sculptures. I intercept, grabbing the box and slipping away.

“Uh-uh, no way you can carry these looking like that. I won’t have anything distracting Micah from how good you look!”

“He’s already my boyfriend, Simon, I don’t have to impress him anymore! Give me my stuff!”

“No way! I won’t drop them, Penn, I swear.” She glares at me, hands on her hips. “Penny. Trust me. I would never, ever let anything happen to these.” She finally relents about the time that there’s a knock on the door, and she goes to let Micah in. He comes into the room, raving about how good Penny looks, and I think he must have had a heads-up on her outfit. His suit complements her dress perfectly, a navy blazer with tan trousers, and a tie the exact green of her dress.

I like Micah, but the guy always makes me feel small. I’m not short, at a hundred and eighty-two centimeters, but Micah has to be nearly two hundred.

“Looking good, Simon,” Micah says, grinning at me with his blinding white teeth. “Working man. Congrats on the new job, dude.” He offers me his massive hand, and I grip it firmly, smirking.

“Thanks, Micah. Penny kind of forced me, but I’m glad she did.”

“I’m convinced she knows what’s best for both of us at this point. I’ve stopped arguing with her.”

“That is false, and you know it!” Penny calls from her room, where she’d left her clutch. “You argue with me constantly! About everything!”

“Only to keep you on your toes, babe!” She comes out of her room, snickering and shaking her head, and Micah stops her to press a kiss to her temple as she passes him.

“Ready then, boys? Simon can’t be late.”

Micah turns to me. “Want me to take her sculptures, man? I don’t mind carrying them.”

I shake my head. “No, no, I’ve got them, don’t worry.” He doesn’t argue, going to take Penny’s arm. I step out the door first, and they follow me out, locking up behind us.

When we get to the store a bit before eight, there’s hardly anyone there apart from the selling artists. Penny told me that people who aren’t selling don’t usually show up until eight-thirty or nine, so I’m not really surprised at how quiet it is. Anna is excited to see Penny, recognizing her from last time, and Penny takes a moment to introduce Anna to Micah. I continue on ahead, taking the sculptures to the spot where Penny wanted to set up, carefully placing the two beautiful sculptures on display before continuing to the back room.

My manager is back there, a big man named Alex, and he tells me my main role tonight is just greeting and talking to people, and making sure that the hors d’oeuvres and wine don’t run out. Which is fantastic, because I’m really good at talking to people.

I return to the main room, dazzled by how posh everyone looks, and approach one of the artists. It’s a boy I recognize from school, and Penny and Micah wander up and fold easily into the conversation. When it gets to eight o’clock, the door swings open, and I look over.

And there’s Baz, standing in the doorway and staring back at me, holding three canvases very carefully, another boy following him in and nearly running into him.

“Oi, Basil, go on, mate,” Simon hears the boy say behind Baz, and it’s like he gets an electric shock. He comes all the way inside and goes to set up, obviously used to the routine. I try not to watch him, but he looks so good in a fitted green and black suit (more posh than the rest of us) that I can’t really help it. I give him a few minutes to set up and get his bearings, before I excuse myself from my conversation and start over.

Baz actually meets me halfway, leaving his companion by his paintings, hidden from my view.

“Er, hi,” I say, trying for a smile, and it’s awkward. “I’d actually been wondering if you were going to be here.”

“I always come to these.” I’m startled, then look around the room for Penny, who could have (and should have) warned me. I find her watching us, looking smug. “But you’ve never been here before.”

“Oh. Well, no. I just started working here last week, and -”

“You work here?” Baz cuts me off, and I take a half step back. “Sorry, just - ehm, congratulations. On the new job. I’m in here all the time.”

“Oh! Thanks.” An uncomfortable pause settles over us, in which Baz adjusts the cuffs of his green blazer, a faint blush on his dark cheeks. “Thanks, by the way. For the other day.” Baz looks confused, so I add, “For the scone?”

A slight nod. “Just returning the favor.”

I figure he must be shit at things like this, but he’s actually working to be friendly. I make up my mind suddenly and offer Baz my hand. He stares at it like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with it.

“How about a truce, Basil? It’s clear we can’t avoid each other, you seem to be basically everywhere I go anymore - and you seem like an okay bloke. Maybe not friends, yet. But not all this bickering. What do you think?”

He stares at me, so fucking cool, like he’s just mulling it over, weighing his options. Finally, like a swan lifting its head, he raises his hand and places it in mine. His skin is smooth and surprisingly cold, but his grip is solid. “Alright, then. A truce.”

BAZ

I don’t know what to do with myself now. I didn’t expect Snow to be at this sale, let alone looking so fucking good in that suit. The color perfectly balanced with his skin and his eyes, it was hard to look away. I’m not ready to admit how badly I’ve got it for this stupid boy, when I don’t even know if he’s gay or not.

We parted ways after shaking hands, which had been almost too much, and I returned to Dev.

“Who was that then?” he asks, having watched the whole unfortunate exchange. “Guy turned bright red when he saw you. Nearly matched his hair.” I look sharply at Dev.

“Did he really?”

“Yeah, mate, I figured he was your boyfriend or something. Or maybe that you two were just fucking, I dunno.”

I nearly choke, but pass it off as a scoff. “Don’t be so vulgar, Dev, good lord. That’s Si-, er, Snow. He’s an animator from school.”

“He sure did seem pretty animated.” I can’t deal with this, and I leave Dev again to wander the floor and look at some of the other artists’ works. Penelope is there, standing beside two pieces that really are quite good, with a black boy who nearly dwarfs me.

“Oh, Basil!” Penny calls me over like we’re friends, and maybe we are. I step over. “Baz, this is my boyfriend Micah. Micah, Basilton Pitch. He’s a spectacular painter.”

I shake Micah’s platter-sized hand, surprised by the compliment from Penelope. I didn’t realize she was even aware of my work.

“Baz. Nice to meet you.” American.  A bit of a shock, but I don’t show a reaction. At least this confirms for me that Penelope isn’t Simon’s girlfriend.

“And you.” I clear my throat and step forward to look at the two pieces Penelope is selling, and they really are nice, but I don’t know enough about sculpture to give an educated compliment. “Those are lovely, Penelope. I can tell you put a lot of time and work into both of them.” She beams, and I think maybe I said something right for once. One of them is a smaller bust, with impeccable attention to detail, and I think she might have used Simon as a reference, because the nose and the hair look impressively familiar. The other is a bit more abstract, possibly two people embracing, but the colors are far more aggressive than the neutral grey of the bust.

I continue on, replying with a few quiet words to any greetings, but I keep mostly to myself. I’m painfully aware of Snow bouncing around the room like a hyper mutt, talking to pretty much everyone. I’ll glance at him now and then, because I’m weak, and always seem to catch him turning away, a blush spreading across the back of his neck.

Agatha shows up at some point, and she makes sure to say hi to me (and Dev, who’s awestruck by her), before going over to Penelope and hugging her and the American boyfriend.

I don’t see Snow again for another hour, when he finally wanders over, where Dev left me on my own to try his luck at flirting with Agatha, who clearly has no interest.

Simon smiles at me, shy again, and takes his time looking at the two paintings I have remaining. The flowering one sold almost immediately, to an older woman I didn’t recognize, and who gave me far more than my asking price. When his eyes slide to the dancer, I freeze, remembering where the idea came from. He goes stiff as well, leaning closer to the canvas.

“That’s -” He doesn’t continue, looking at me in alarm.

“I saw your animation reel at the student showcase.” No point in hiding anything now. “The ballerina clip… it was hauntingly beautiful.” He runs his hands through his hair, looking back at my canvas as I continue. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wasn’t really thinking about it when I made this. But I realized when I finished, I’d tried to draw some of the emotion out of yours.”

He’s quiet for a long moment after I finish explaining, and I’m worried he’s going to get mad at me for plagiarizing or something. Instead, the eyes that turn to me are like pools of warm water, flickering under the surface, and I’m instantly drawn in. “Baz, this is - amazing. Really. You somehow captured - everything. All of it.” He looks back at it, and my heart catches.

This is too much of a soft moment for my cold, dead heart. “But the bit after the ballerina - two stick figures having a fight? Really? I was ready to shut the laptop off when that came up and ruined the mood.” He looks up at me, brows furrowed, but the look didn’t sit like anger.

“Two stick figures? What are you talking about? I didn’t put that in my reel.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out if he’s messing with me.

“Yeah, the clip immediately after the ballerina was two really shit looking stick figures beating the shit out of each other. You don’t remember?”

His eyes widen in sudden realization. “Fuck. Fuck! I hadn’t meant to leave that in! I’d put it in there as a joke when I sent it to Penny - I must have set up the wrong file.” He claps his hand to his forehead, bursting out in sudden laughter. “No wonder you wanted to shut it off! Christ, that’s embarrassing. I can’t believe that shit was playing at the showcase.”

I’m breathless, because watching him laugh is such a fucking gift. A gift from the universe that I don’t deserve. His whole body goes into it, his head going back and his legs tilting. I knew he was an idiot, though. Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me.

“Amazing. I’m almost impressed by your ineptitude, Snow. Such lovely work, and you manage to fuck it up.” He looks at me, ready to fight, but realizes I’m teasing and grins, breathing out a weak laugh.

“That’s me, the inept, lovely idiot,” he chuckles, and I wish I could tell him how much I agree.

[livingthroughchoices-blog]

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 17: Lady in Waiting)

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Author’s notes: Hi! Sorry this took FOREVER but, since it’s so short bc the Coronation is split into 3 chapters, I decided to do a double post! Yay! I hope the wait was worth it.

Thank you as always to all who like, reblog and/or comment, idk if I’d still be going without you! Huuuuge thanks to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat, @notoriouscs, @simplyaiden-blog, @snyggflicka, @asprankle, @speedyoperarascalparty, @mirivalencia, @mymandrake, @asobigokoro2018, @krisnicjack and @fabi-en-ciel for asking me to tag them! Please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged (:

I love y'all!

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 1,259

Drake woke up with less of a headache than he deserved. His mouth, however, was so dry it felt like paper. He lumbered out of bed and got himself a glass of water, which he promptly gulped down. He went back to bed, intending only to muster enough energy to take a shower, and fell back asleep. 

He shook awake several hours later and felt around his bedside table for his phone. It was midday. With a groan he remembered he was supposed to meet Liam and Bastien at the royal hangar at 11 o’clock. Drake briefly thought about getting up and rushing there, but he figured it was much too late for that.

Thus, he allowed himself a few minutes to parse through his muddled memories of the day before. Everything was quite clear up until Truth or Dare – at least, in comparison with the rest of the night. 

Okay, so after Truth or Dare, I walked with Addams... Crap, I went to her room, right. And then she told me about... her brother. And then...

That was where it got complicated. He vaguely recalled going back downstairs and drinking himself into a stupor, but he had a nagging feeling there was something he was forgetting.

Scratching his neck, he glanced at the door to his room and noticed his pants and underwear lying there in a crumpled heap. 

Oh no.

It all came back to him in a flash; he’d tried to hook up with Kiara and had proceeded to – literally – dump her almost immediately, only to come upstairs and touch himself thinking of Riley.

Shit. I’m such an asshole. God, Kiara must hate me. And I can’t believe I did... that, thinking of Addams. That’s a line I shouldn’t have crossed.

It would be much, much harder to resist now that he’d done it once. He shook his head at that, dismissing the thought before it could reach his groin. Knowing this would lead nowhere good, he decided to focus on the practical for now. Since he’d woken up so late, he had no idea how he was getting back to the palace, which meant step one was getting ready and finding out.

He did everything on autopilot, doing his best to focus on the small ache pulsing through his head, both to distract himself and as merited punishment for the night before.

As he was gathering his things and dumping them in his bag, Bastien entered his room unannounced. 

“So, had a fun night, did we?” The question was lighthearted but there was an undercurrent of disapproval.

“I know, I overslept. I’m sorry,” muttered Drake, still busy putting everything away.

“It was certainly not ideal, but I suppose there’s no harm done. Prince Liam went on ahead; he can’t afford to be late to his own Coronation, after all. You and I will have to drive.”

“What!” His hangover was not too bad, but he knew he’d be in for an uncomfortable car ride anyway, to say the least. “Why? Why can’t we take the other plane?”

“I’m afraid the Beaumont brothers borrowed it.” After a small pause, Bastien addded, “Lady Riley must be punctual, too.”

Drake’s hands froze for a moment, holding his toothpaste over his bag. He forced himself to let go of it and recover. “Right. Can’t be late to her own engagement.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Drake. I’m... truly sorry.” 

Bastien’s hand slid off as Drake stooped down to grab his now-full bag. The older man was looking at him with disproportionate concern. He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

“I’m fine. Got no one to blame but myself. Let’s go.”

Once he’d loaded his luggage into the limo, he settled in for a long car ride he was bound to spend breathing deeply in order to stave off vomiting. He was desperate to avoid talking, partly because he felt even opening his mouth was risky in his state, and partly due to the event they were driving to. So he closed his eyes and, although sleep wouldn’t come – he’d slept far too much already, and the nausea wouldn’t allow it anyway – he didn’t speak a word until they’d reached the palace.

By the time they got there, the entrance was deserted; the suitors were now dining with the King and Queen and Liam must be in his room getting ready. It was too early for any other guests to have arrived.

Having dropped off his things in his room, he sat down in the main hall, unwilling to go into the ballroom and face tonight’s ceremony yet. After last night, the last thing his body wanted was alcohol, but he didn’t think he could survive this night without a drink. His hand went to his inside pocket and closed around his flask. 

You can’t start drinking your emergency whiskey now! It hasn’t even started!

Yeah and it already sucks.

He was in the middle of this internal debate, when a tearful Hana came out of the dining room where the suitors were having dinner with the King and Queen. 

“Hana?”

Hana’s wiped her tears hastily before she even turned to see who’d called her.

“Oh, Drake. It’s you.” She gave him a small smile and went to sit down next to him. “I always seem to run into you when I’m distraught.” She blushed a little.

“Maybe I’m bad luck,” said Drake, only half joking.

“Don’t say that! You’ve been so kind to me, even when we weren’t friends.”

Drake bit his tongue before he could reply with, “Who says we’re friends now?” He did actually consider her his friend, but old habits die hard. 

He asked instead, “So what’s up?”

“My parents are... disappointed with my performance in court. I am to return home as soon as the Coronation is over.”

“What the hell? I... don’t know what to say, that sucks.”

Hana sighed. “It does, doesn’t it? I’ve been so free here, and I’ve made friends... I’ll probably never see Riley again.” 

A teardrop fell on her dress, making the silver fabric appear dark grey. Drake patted her back, saying nothing.

In between quiet sobs, Hana said, “And now she’ll never know how I feel...”

Drake turned to look at her. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why wouldn’t she know how you feel about her? If you want her to know before you go, you can choose to tell her, Hana. And if you’re leaving tomorrow then you’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

She met his gaze. Her lips were trembling and she was sniffling, but she seemed calmer. She wiped her tears, being careful not to ruin her makeup.

“Is it obvious I’ve been crying?”

Surprisingly, there was only the faintest hint of pink to her nose and the red in her eyes was rapidly fading. Leave it to Hana to cry prettily. Drake smiled softly.

“Nah, you’re good. So you’re telling her?”

“I’m... not sure yet, but you’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you... again, Drake. I said I was going to the ladies’ room so I should return to the dining room before I’m missed.” She gave him a quick, grateful peck on the cheek before going back through the door she came from.

Drake was left to ponder the fact that he’d just encouraged someone to confess their feelings for the same girl for whom he himself was head over heels. 

Off to a good start. 

He took a swig of his flask.

[kivaember]

(Aza shows just how much he’s improved since starting to find healthier coping mechanisms - and seeing the closest thing to a therapist in ffxiv - and that Aymeric has some issues of his own too...

i.e i just felt like writing this bc i was in weird mood)

Stone Vigil was a hot mess.

That was Aymeric’s eventual assessment as wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his nose stinging with the near overpowering stench of dragon blood. With the revelation of Ishgardians carrying a trace of Dragon’s blood, it was standard practice for knights at risk of combat to cover their mouths and nose with a facial mask. Whilst it protected them from accidental ingestion, it made fighting a lot more uncomfortable.

Aymeric’s own facial mask was damp from condensation, and he irritably tugged it down beneath his chin, keeping his bloodied fingers away from his mouth. They were ambushed on one of the exposed corridors that led to the strongroom near the rear of the vigil, and he tentatively eyed the scorched stone and stress cracks running along the wall and floor where the dragons had barrelled through.

This corridor was going to collapse long before they finished fixing and reinforcing it. How many attacks had this vigil endured, now? They had reclaimed it due to Aza’s help, but the weakened walls, compromised foundations, as well as the insistent skirmishes, were making it more of a dangerous burden than a strategic reclamation. Their manpower was already stretched thin between the territory they already held and fulfilling their commitments to the Eorzean Alliance, that they couldn’t do anything more than keeping Stone Vigil by their mere fingertips. It was… frustrating, to say the least, to go through the depressing cycle of fighting back a dragon skirmish, fixing the damage done in said skirmish… only to go through it all over again a week or two later.

It was causing a lot of grumblings in the House of Lords, grumblings Aymeric could ill afford right now. He needed to find some way to break this vicious cycle…

“Lord Commander,” an exhausted knight pulled up next to him, drawing him out of his thoughts, “All men are accounted for and the dragons are completely routed. However, the corridor has taken extensive structural damage, so it’s been suggested by the engineers to relocate to a more stable location, sir.”

“Understood. Thank you, Knight,” Aymeric said distractedly. The knight saluted and dismissed himself – to be swiftly replaced with a much more welcome presence.

“Well, that was fun,” Aza said in the tone that implied it was the exact opposite, “I sure do love fighting dragons in cramped, narrow hallways while tripping over a hundred bumbling knights.”

“Yes, yes, you could have killed them all single-handedly,” Aymeric said with a quiet huff, “Unfortunately, they didn’t give us a chance to politely excuse ourselves from your magnificent presence.”

“How rude of them,” Aza tutted, slouching his shoulders in a near-comical exaggeration.

Aymeric looked him over, taking in his partner’s relaxed, satisfied posture. For all his belly-aching, he seemed to have found the fight invigorating enough to be in a good mood. There was blood speckled against his cheek, as well as thick, drying streaks of dragon’s blood smeared across his breastplate. The cloying smell of so much blood was beginning to make him feel ill, a nausea he ignored with some difficulty.  

“Anyway,” Aza said, straightening up and giving him a small smile, “I keep being heckled to move to ‘someplace safer’, so…?”

“The corridor’s structural integrity is unreliable at best, so, yes, best we move,” Aymeric confirmed, gesturing for Aza to start skedaddling. His partner did so, and they started to pick their careful way down the corridor. Debris and chunks of masonry threatened to trip them, and the cracked floor was slick with half-frozen blood and ice. Dragon corpses lay sprawled in the narrow space, all of them sporting the downy feathers of immature Aevis. Very young dragons, remnants of Nidhogg’s crazed brood.

It made Aymeric tired to think on it. He had naïvely thought that Nidhogg’s death would bring about the end of this, but the dragon’s brood stubbornly and insistently dashed themselves on Ishgard’s walls. They were too disorganised, too few and too weak to have any long-damaging effect, yet still they persisted. Did they intend to fight them down to the very last dragon pup? Didn’t they want peace at all, or was vengeance all they had left?

“You’re quiet,” Aza noted once they were two thirds down the corridor, “Something on your mind?”

“Mn,” Aymeric pushed those worries away, “No, I’m just tired.”

“Well, in that case,” Aza began, “We-”

“DRAGON!” Someone yelled, then-

The warning came a split second too late. Before Aymeric even processed it, before he even had a chance to whirl on the exposed side of the corridor – the Vigil violently shook beneath his feet hard enough that he almost staggered into Aza. A grinding cracking noise thrummed all around him, the groaning of stone pushed to the very limits, a very, awful, lurching feeling in his belly when he felt the stone floor shift beneath his feet, pale brick dust half-blinding him from the force of whatever the hell just rammed into the corridor-

In that frozen split-second, Aymeric’s mind processed several things at once.

The monstrously huge Aevis determinedly clawing its way into the narrow corridor, having rammed headfirst into the structure with the blind, maddened fury of a rabid animal. The chips of stone flinging everywhere as its claws tore at everything. The cracks of stressed masonry literally falling apart. Hot embers choking the air. The abrupt, terrifyingly cold knowledge of there is a thousand fulm drop beneath our feet and-

And by pure, beautiful, sheer instinct, Aymeric blindly lunged sideways into Aza, just as the floor gave way beneath their feet.

---

Aza weighed too much.

It was an awful, terrifying thought to have in that moment. Aymeric’s shoulder was a hot throb of agony, strained past its limit as he balanced dangerously, perfectly on the very edge of the massive hole that just opened in the corridor. Around him was yelling and shouting and the furious, pained howls of a dragon. Aymeric’s mind frantically pushed away all that noise and focused on his numbing fingers clenched tight around Aza’s forearm, the way the edge of the half-crumbled floor dug into his belly, the way he could feel gravity plucking at him, trying to tease him over and to tumble into that fucking terrifying expanse of steel grey below. It was taking all his core strength and weight to stop himself from sliding forwards, helped by the fact that Aza did not struggle or flail or do anything any sane man would’ve done when finding himself a thousand fulms above ground.

“Oh, fuck, okay,” Aza was saying, his voice breathless and strained but calm. A dragon roared somewhere, “You’re good, Aym. You’re good. Just hold on.”

“I… am…” he forced out in a curt grunt, his free hand pressing hard into the stone when he felt himself almost slip forwards a damning half-ilm. His shoulder was on fire. He was losing strength in his grip. Fuck, he might’ve pulled something when stopping his partner’s very rapid descent, “Aza, I can’t… you’re t-too…”

“If you say ‘you’re too heavy’,” Aza laughed a little wildly, reaching up with his free hand to grip Aymeric’s bicep, “No, it’s good. I can- I can get myself up. Just- just stay like that, handsome, okay? It’s okay. Just stay there.”

The entire corridor felt like it heaved, masonry cracking somewhere out of sight. A flare of heat at his back, everything lighting up in a glow that reflected in Aza’s eyes. His partner was disturbingly calm. Aymeric was… calm. His mind compartmentalised everything, broken up into manageable chunks to deal with later. He focused on; Aza, his weight, his shoulder, the steel grey sky below their feet. Everything else was boxed up and put away. Later. Focus.

“I’m really sorry,” Aza said to him, “This is probably going to hurt a lot.”

Then, with an abrupt yank on his arm, almost making Aymeric’s vision go white with pain, Aza hauled himself up from sheer upper body strength alone, his fingers gripping hard into his shoulder, the other hand – the stone edge. Blindly, Aymeric gripped at him, shuffling back and half-dragging, half-holding as Aza scrambled and crawled over the edge onto solid ground. Semi-solid ground. Everything was still trembling.

“Phew! Okay!” Aza said shakily, giving him a wobbly smile, his face alarmingly pale, “It’s good. We’re all good. You did good, Aym, you’re amazing, holy shit, thank the Twelve for your fast reflexes, okay? Okay, so- oh, fuck, I forgot about the dragon-”

Aymeric, on his knees, still honed into that calm, focused edge, turned to see the Aevis reeling from one smart knight aiming a still functioning Bertha cannon into its face. It screeched, writhed, wildly spraying spluttering fire, sending knights scattering with shouts.

“Oi!” Aza roared, his near-death experience instantly forgotten as he leapt to his feet and charged forwards, “Fuck off, you stupid lizard-”

Aymeric knelt there for a few seconds, then quietly stood on weak legs and gripped his sword hilt with a trembling hand. He took that moment, boxed it up, and put it into the back of his mind for later. He followed his partner a moment after, grip steady and sure on his blade.

---

It hit him when they were back in Ishgard.

He was sitting on the sofa of their living room, well, sprawled more like, bone-weary and his shoulder aching. He’d lightly torn a muscle, according to the chirugeon, and whilst a dash of healing magic recovered the worst of it, he was told to do only light exercise for a few days. Aza, of course, acted like his arm had been ripped off and stitched back on again, and refused to let Aymeric handle anything heavier than the house key.

Despite the fact he’d been the one to almost die today.

Then, it hit him.

It hit him that Aza had almost died.

This wasn’t anything new. Aza almost died all the time. But it was always out of sight, something he heard about and never really saw with his own eyes. He saw Aza, injured and limping, wincing from serious wounds but alive and well enough to grumble and whine about it. It was different to hear ‘Aza almost died again’, different than actually, physically, holding his partner from the very jaws of death, to know that if he had been too slow, or if his grip slipped, or if he fell over too, or if the dragon had turned its attention to them, or if, or if, or if.

It hit him, that Aza could have very easily been one of those. Aymeric saw many of them, during the height of the Dragonsong War. Of knights plucked up and dropped several hundred fulms, to dash against the rocks. Of ‘heretics’ forced to leap from Witchdrop and having their bodies paraded through the Holy See, lauded as loyal martyrs who proved their faith by willingly leaping into Halone’s halls (as if they weren’t thrown, begging and pleading for mercy). As Lord Commander, Aymeric had stood and watched far too many of those, seen to many of those, scraped up too many of those, and even after twenty years of witnessing them he still felt clammy and nauseous whenever he had to look at those broken things.

Because, they were never bodies at the end. They became smears, stains, pulp, rather than corpses. Even just thinking about it made his pulse unsettlingly fast. To imagine it as Aza-

Aymeric shifted to lie down on the sofa instead. He felt a swell of nausea rise in his throat, and he clasped his hands over his belly, feeling the fingers tremble as he very carefully prodded at that bone-deep fear. He understood himself. He knew how he worked through moments like these. He had a system to compartmentalise his trauma and feelings and emotions and work through them piecemeal by piecemeal. Only. He did that by himself. Normally.

There was none of that here. Aza was in the kitchen. He could hear him lightly singing in that lilting, odd language of the Steppes. For some reason hearing it made his throat clench up and he had to take a very deep, long breath. Eventually Aza will have to come out of the kitchen and will know something was up. Aymeric wasn’t hypocritical enough to hide it from him either.

Something prickled at him uncomfortably – Aza was messing up his routine, something said anxiously, but that wasn’t meant to be a bad thing, was it? No, it wasn’t. He should be relieved and fucking happy Aza was here and not a Fury-damned smear somewhere. Still, anxiety lingered and gave birth to guilt. It just tangled up together in a very confusing jumble and he found himself unsure on how to pick it apart. This was going against his usual system and he didn’t like it.

He didn’t know how long he spent staring up at the ceiling, very carefully pushing down the burning tight feeling in his throat and chest. It was, rationally, a silly thing to be getting upset over now. Aza didn’t die. Dwelling over what ifs was useless. He should just be content that it all ended well and, honestly, he needed to get a fucking grip.

Still, emotions and rationality rarely, if ever, went hand in hand.

It took him a moment too long to realise Aza wasn’t singing anymore. The very second he noticed that, his partner leaned over the back of the sofa and into his line of sight. He looked worried.

“Aym?” Aza said warily, “I called your name like, five times. Did you fall asleep with your eyes closed?”

“…no,” Aymeric said roughly, “I’m having a moment.”

“Um,” Aza wavered, clearly not expecting that, “A moment? Like, a bad one?”

“Yes.”

Aza said nothing for a moment, then went, “Okay. Budge over.”

Aymeric budged over, but there was barely any room on the sofa anyways when Aza climbed over the back of it and wedged in the narrow space. Aza was half-sprawled on top of him, but Aymeric curled his arms around him and pressed his nose into Aza’s hair and smelled the lingering smell of metal, oil, sweat and brimstone. It wasn’t a very nice smell, but it was an Aza smell. That was enough.

Aza gently nosed at the crook of his neck, his hand resting on his aching shoulder and very lightly pressed his thumb against the tense muscle. It ached, teasing slightly into pressure pain, but Aymeric didn’t mind. His breath caught in his chest, shuddering audibly.

“You upset about today?” Aza asked him quietly, tilting his head enough to kiss the pulse point in his throat, “About us nearly falling?”

“A little,” Aymeric murmured, hating how his voice came out all strangled, “I almost dropped you.”

“But you didn’t,” Aza told him gently, “You caught me. Okay? You caught me, it’s all good.”

“I know. I shouldn’t be upset, but…” Logically, he understood that he caught Aza and everything was fine. Emotionally, he kept imagining Aza as one of those smashed up corpses and felt ill and clammy at the near ‘what-if’. It was exhausting and annoying. Around this point he would find some work to tunnel-vision on and work himself to the point of falling into a dreamless sleep. Probably not a healthy way of dealing, thinking on it.

“… Lucia tells me,” Aza began after a short pause, “That sometimes our brains are dumbasses and makes you feel stupid things, but those stupid things are still valid. So, you might feel dumb for feeling upset about me almost dying, because, well, I’m obviously not dead, but it’s still a valid feeling. If… that is what’s worrying you.”

“Lucia said that, in those exact words?” Aymeric asked, finding a whisper of humour in him somewhere.

“Shut up. I’m paraphrasing, you asshole,” Aza muttered, then continued in a slightly nervous tone, “I just mean, um, I don’t think you’re stupid for being upset about it. And, I won’t judge. I’ll just keep reminding you that I’m okay, in case your brain forgets, and you deal with it at your pace, okay?”

Aymeric was quiet for a moment, briefly stunned. Lucia was a very good influence and an effective pseudo-therapist, what the hell. He needed to give that woman a raise.

“Alright,” he said, “I’m very upset.”

“About dropping me?”

“Imagining you… if you dropped.”

“Mn. That sounds like it’d be messy.”

“It is…” Aymeric said a bit listlessly, “I’ve seen many knights or supposed ‘heretics’ die from fatal falls. It is… it is never a clean death. Some, they must have died on impact. A grim fortune for them, I suppose, but the afterwards, is… for those who needs to pick up the pieces…”

Aza nuzzled his throat, distracting him from the very uncomfortable, queasy clench in his gut, “Let’s not talk about that,” his partner murmured against his skin, lightly kissing his fluttering pulse point, “It’s making you all clammy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Aza sighed, “S’okay, Aym. Maybe we should talk about something nicer? You need a break, it sounds like.”

Aymeric took a moment to consider if he wanted to do that. He felt too tense and weary to really… no, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He was too tired and sore, too mentally drained. A break was needed.

“…did you see Lord Dounon’s atrocious hat the other day?”

“Ugh, you mean that ugly fucking pancake that’s sitting on his head?” Aza scoffed lightly, “Unfortunately.”

“I almost broke a rib trying not to laugh whilst staring at it.”

They spoke a little longer on a few Lords’ unfortunate fashion choices, but eventually exhaustion began to win its war against Aymeric. He failed to stifle a yawn mid-sentence, his eyelids drooping shut. He was so tired, and he grumbled when Aza laughed and cooed at him and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Take a catnap, handsome,” Aza told him, “Then you can shower the stink off you, eat something and face the day a bit more refreshed. I can call Lucia over too, if you want.”

That actually sounded tempting… and leagues better than what he would’ve done if left to his own devices, which was work himself to exhaustion and wake up hungry and groggy and unhappy, “Are you cooking?”

“Yup. Gonna make pancakes – if you go to sleep now.”

Aymeric muttered about tyrants, but Aza just laughed at him and kissed his nose again.

Like this, it was easy enough, to compartmentalise, take a breath – and relax. The anxiety was still there, but… it was better. Just a little. Just enough.

[mikelogan]

jdox prompt: when perry and jd break up, everyone assumes perry’s fine because 1.) he broke up with jd (not the other way around), and 2.) he’s stoic about it. Then someone (probably carla) realizes that perry’s harder on the interns and that he looks sad when he thinks no one is looking. she talks to him and he confesses that he regrets breaking up with jd. (i hope you do this prompt bc i love your fics so much!!)

             Carla’sday had started like any other.  Shewoke, showered, dressed, had breakfast, and cleaned up around the apartmentwhile she waited for Turk to get ready. One noticeable difference from every other day was JD’s absence.  Normally, he was just as much a part of Carla’smorning routine as anything else.  Theyusually chatted over breakfast and then when Turk emerged from the bedroom, thetwo of them would make a joke or allude to something stupid they’d done in medschool.  But since two nights ago, JD hadhardly come out of his bedroom.  Twonights ago, he’d stopped acting like the JD Carla knew and loved.  Two nights ago, Perry had broken up with him.

             This didnot deter Carla from trying to cheer her Bambi up – or at least get him out ofbed.  She’d decided to give him one moreday to wallow in self-pity before she really kicked his ass and forced him goback to work.  After all, she wasn’theartless.  She could appreciate how hardit would be for JD to go back to the hospital where he had for so long workedbeside Perry, and that he had to work through his raw emotions first.  More than anything, more than the sadness itcaused her to see her friend so devastated, she was furious.  And Carla when she was furious was a force tobe reckoned with.  

             Ratherthan laying into Perry the first moment she saw him, she’d chosen to observehim, her anger simmering just below the surface.  Truthfully, she hadn’t seen much of himlately – they were both busy now that flu season had arrived.  More patients to take care of meant less timefor socializing.  Carla spent the firsthalf of her day simply watching Perry and was surprised to find that hisdemeanor seemed quite typical.  He barkedat the interns, she heard him complaining about patients, and he bickered withKelso.  

             Carlaspotted Perry later that day sitting alone at one of the far tables in thecafeteria and squared her shoulders.  Ifshe didn’t lay into him now, when would she get her next chance?  She knew that JD had asked – practically begged– her not to talk to Perry, but the opportunity was just too clear.  She walked purposefully toward Perry, butpaused for a moment, her lunch tray held in front of her.  Now that she looked at Perry – really looked at him – it was obvious that hewas hurting, too.  Carla did not feel asmuch compassion for him as she did JD, that was true, but Perry had been herfriend before all this.  When JD had comehome in tears and told Carla – who had been the only one home at the time –that Perry had broken up with him, she hadn’t wanted to give up on the two ofthem.  She’d been so sure they were madefor each other, but JD, through his tears, explained how Perry had said hecouldn’t do this anymore.  He hadn’tgiven real concrete reasons either, not that JD had told Carla anyway, and shedidn’t feel like pressing JD for more information was appropriate at thetime.  So on his behalf, shecold-shouldered Perry when she could, but seeing JD so broken, in so much pain,was hurting her, too.  But now itappeared that JD wasn’t the only one hurting from the break-up.

             “Thisseat taken?” she asked, standing expectantly across from Perry.

             Hecringed at the sound of her voice and did not look up.  “I’m betting you’ll sit there no matter whatI say,” he said dryly, pushing away his uneaten tray of food.

             “I cameover here,” Carla said as she sat down, her tone impassive, “to tear you a newone, you know.”

             “Get totearing, then,” Perry replied, stunning Carla with the lack of emotion in hisvoice.  “Lord knows I deserve it and you’vealways been good at it.”

             “But then,” Carla started as soon as Perrystopped talking, “I noticed that you were sitting here, all by your lonesome moping. I wouldn’t expect the person who did the breaking up to be so… sad.”

             “Carla,honestly, I think I’d prefer you hating me to this psychoanalysis.  So could you just leave me be or startshrieking because this I cannothandle.”

             Carlasighed and crossed her arms as she leaned in toward Perry.  “You look like hell,” she said flatly, notingthe bags under Perry’s eyes.

             “If youmust know, my back has been acting up,” Perry snarled.

             “And whyis that?” Carla asked, not believing Perry’s excuse.

             Perry’sjaw tightened for a moment before he finally looked up at Carla.  “Because I’ve slept on the couch for the lasttwo nights,” he said, his voice much quieter. “I can’t sleep in my bed.  Doesn’tfeel right without him there.”

             Carlablinked, digesting the response she hadn’t been expecting.  “I… what now?” she finally asked, at a lossas to what else to say.

             “I made ahuge mistake, Carla,” Perry groaned, finallyletting some emotion show in his expression. “I swore to myself that I’d never hurt him…”

             Carlacomposed herself – seeing Perry like this was disconcerting.  “Then why on earth did you end things with him?”

             Perryshook his head, looking pained.  “Carla,you and I both know he deserves so muchbetter than me.  He – he deserves someonewho can give him everything, who’s more likehim.  Someone who knows how good he is.”

             “You’refull of shit,” Carla said flatly.  “Ihave never heard something so ridiculous in all my life.  You’re making all these excuses because you’retoo proud to admit that you’re scared.  You’re scared of being vulnerable and ofgiving yourself to one person who you knowwould do anything for you.  That level of devotion really freaks you out,doesn’t it?  And I’m betting it’s becausethe idea that you can love someone and they can love you just as much and youcan be happy if you’d just try for once in your life is so foreignto you that you’d rather just run the opposite direction and start this wholecycle of hurt all over again.”

             Perrylooked abashed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Carla kept right ongoing, her rage finally having bubbled up to the surface.

             “If youhonestly, truly care about JD – if you lovehim – you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be kneeling by his bed and begging for forgiveness.  Because you, me, and everyone else know thatyou’re meant for each other and that he loves you more than anything in thisworld.  He hasn’t left his damn bed sinceit happened, Perry, and he can’t keep going like this.  And if you’re still too proud and hard-headedto admit that you’re scared, then you’re going to be alone for the rest of yourlife.”

             Withthat, Carla left the table, taking her tray with her without another word orglance in Perry’s direction.  She knewcoddling Perry would never have made a difference and that he responded muchbetter when she gave his usual blunt rants right back to him.  She could only hope that he took it to heart.

             Perry didnot think as he left the hospital.  Hehadn’t bothered to tell anyone he was leaving and he was sure he’d pay for thatdearly later, thanks in large part to Kelso, but for once, he could recognizethat the hospital couldn’t be his first choice anymore.  He sped toward JD’s apartment, disobeyingseveral traffic laws in the process, and finally arrived ten minuteslater.  The reality of what he was doing reallydidn’t sink in until he was standing face-to-face with the apartment door.  Suddenly, the key to the apartment felt muchheavier in his pocket, though he was quite happy that he hadn’t returned italready.  He took a deep breath andhesitated just another moment more before he unlocked the door and steppedinside.  

             Theapartment was quiet and JD’s bedroom door was shut.  Perry could just make out the muffled soundsof JD’s shower running.  At least he’dbeen able to rouse himself enough to take a shower.  Perry sighed and opened the door to JD’sroom, deciding to wait for him on the bed. And then the sound of low, heart-wrenching sobs met his ears.  It was clear that JD wasn’t doing as well ashe seemed and Perry felt a physical ache inhis chest at the sound.  There was no wayhe could stand to listen to one second more of this.

             “JD?” hecalled into the bathroom, trying to be loud enough for him to hear over thewater, but his voice was surprisingly weak. “JD, I – I want to talk.”

             Immediately,the sobbing ceased and Perry heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle ofshampoo being dropped.  “I’ll be out in aminute,” came JD’s broken voice, still thick with tears.

             Perrysank down onto JD’s bed and put his head in his hands as he waited.  How had he screwed things up so royally?  And hadn’t he sworn again and again that nomatter what happened he’d never hurt JD? He’d promised him so many times and now here he was, crying his eyes outin the shower because of Perry.  It onlyreaffirmed his belief that JD deserved so much better.  He was jolted out of his thoughts when heheard JD turn the water off and he waited anxiously for him to dress and emergefrom the bathroom.  When he finally did,there was no way he could have prepared himself for just how miserable JDlooked.

             Standingbefore him was a very pale JD with bags under his red and puffy eyes, his damphair lying limp against his forehead.  Hewas dressed in an old sweatshirt and sweatpants and he looked like death warmedover.  He did not speak, instead waitingfor Perry to explain himself.

             “JD,”Perry started, pausing when he found his breath catching in his throat.  He closed his eyes and began again.  “JD, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for what I’veput you through.  If I could take it allback, I would.”

             JD’s lipquivered, but he stood his ground.  “Well,you can’t,” he said, his voice only shaking a little.  “What’s done is done.  You made it perfectly clear that you don’twant me.”

             “It’s notthat I don’t want you,” Perry said, his tone pleading.  “I never stopped wanting you, kiddo.  I – I was scared.  And Carla tearing me a new one today made merealize that.”

             “Whatcould you possibly have to be scared of?” JD asked, trying his hardest to soundangry, but it only came out as devastated.

             “Of justhow much I love you,” Perry said weakly. It was quite the sobering experience to actually say it out loud andjudging by JD’s expression, he could see that. “JD, I’m not here to make excuses for myself.  I just want you to know that if I could havea second chance at this, I’d make sure you knew just how much I care aboutyou.  Your happiness means everything tome and while I’m quite certain that there are plenty of people out there whocould make you happier than I ever could, I don’t know that I could live withmyself if I didn’t come here and try to make things right.”

             JDsniffed, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, before walking over to the bed andsitting down beside Perry.  “Why do youthink someone else could make me happier?” he asked in a small voice, staringdown at his lap.  “All I’ve ever wantedis you and when I had you, I was…Perry, you made me happier than I ever could have imagined.  And then, out of nowhere, you pushed me awaywith stupid excuses and you said things just to hurt me, to make sure I’dgo.  And now you’re telling me it’sbecause you were scared?”

             “I’venever felt like this in my entire life,” Perry said quietly, knowing that ifthere was any hope of JD forgiving him, he’d have to be more vulnerable than he’dever been.  “I – I don’t know how tohandle it.”

             “Youcould start by talking about it,” JD said, a bitter edge to his voice that hadnever been there before.  “I tell youeverything, Perry.  You’ve never done thesame for me.”

             Perryswallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I’d like to start now, if that’s all right.”

             JD saidnothing, so Perry took it as permission to continue.

             “Themorning before… everything,” he started uncertainly, “I woke up before youdid.  And for a while, I just laid there,watching you sleep.  It wasn’t the firsttime, but this time was… different somehow. You looked so peaceful, and just lying there looking at you, Newbie, Icould see everything.  Our whole lives were there, right in front ofme.  The big things, the smallthings.  I could see moving in together,getting married, having a kid or two… I could also see the long days at workand coming home to you and having a frozen pizza for dinner and the stupidarguments we’d have.  What scared me mostabout all that was how badly I wanted it. The domesticity, the idea of being so transparent with another person…it freaked me out, JD.  And my firstinstinct was to run away and the only way I could think to do that was to hurtyou so badly that you’d willingly go.  Itwas cruel and selfish and so very wrong of me to put you through that.  Which is why I’ll understand if you want togo our separate ways, but I wouldn’t be able to give up without at leasttrying.”

             “All Iever wanted was for you to be like this,” JD said, his voice wavering onceagain.  “To be completely honest withme.  I always sensed there was something you were holding back, I justdidn’t know what it was.  I want allthose things with you, too, Perry.  Don’tyou think that scares me just as much? But even through all that fear and uncertainty, I know that it’s right.  I don’tcare if there are twenty thousand other people scattered across the globe thatare ‘better suited’ for me than you.  Idon’t want anyone else.  And I neverwill.”

             Perryreleased a long breath and slowly held out his hand for JD to take, but only ifhe chose to.  “You’ve always been sopatient with me, sweetheart, and for that, I can’t thank you enough.  And if there’s any way for me to repay thatto you, I’ll try for the rest of my life.”

             JDhesitated for a moment, but then took Perry’s hand, lacing their fingerstogether.  “Just promise me that when youget scared,” he murmured, looking up at Perry with tear-filled eyes, “you’lltell me.  If there’s anything I’velearned from this, it’s that we’re stronger together.  You keep me in check when I’m doing somethingdumb or crazy and I can help you when you’re worried about something.”

             “Ipromise,” Perry vowed, squeezing JD’s hand. “I love you, kid.  Yourforgiveness means everything.”

             “I loveyou, too,” JD whispered, closing his eyes even as his tears finally slippedfree.  He ducked his head andimmediately, Perry pulled him closer, into his arms.  

             Perrypressed a kiss to JD’s hair, which was still damp, and rocked him slowly.  He didn’t bother telling him he was okay orthat things would be all right, because he couldn’t be certain that either ofthem were true.  All he could promise wasthat he would try his hardest to see that JD would soon be happy again.  And for now, that was enough.

[balancoire]

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed III Characters: Connor, Haytham Kenway

Summary: Haytham asks Connor about his mother on their return to General Washington’s camp. It doesn’t go as planned.

(poses beside this oneshot that I took several days to write, several more to rewrite, and then several MORE just to edit bc I just wanted to write them again)

maybe I’ll post to ao3/ffn later, idk

Haytham crouched at the edge of a roof, balancing carefully on the balls of his feet. Connor came to a halt beside him with an irritated huff.  

"Why have you stopped?"  

"Patience, Connor. We'll return to your beloved General Washington in due time."

"Not if we just stand here."

Haytham turned to face him. It was difficult to see his expression when his face was half-hidden by the hood of his robes. Why did the Assassins insist on wearing those things? It concealed their features, that much was true, but it wasn't very inconspicuous.  

Connor stared back at him, eyebrow crooked. "What?"

"Never mind. Let's continue."

Connor gave a nod, and Haytham flung himself gracefully from the edge of the roof and onto a neighboring one. He was surprised that his body was still letting him run and jump like this so easily.  

He glanced back at Connor as he paused beside a chimney. He had a sturdier build than most of the Assassins Haytham had seen in years past, but he was just as quick, just as agile. How did he learn all of this from an old man who could barely walk? Was it from his mother, perhaps?

"You are slowing down," Connor said as he passed, scaling the chimney in a few quick jumps. There was a hint of challenge in his voice. One that Haytham couldn't deny. He clambered up after Connor, reaching the top just as swiftly.  

"Remember what I said about patience? No need to be so rash," he said.

"We cannot afford to waste time."

No, Haytham wanted to retort, you're just impatient. But he let it go and returned his focus to the task at hand. There was little to be gained from arguing.  

The entirety of New York -- or their small section, at least -- spread before them like a map. Haytham would have preferred to travel by horse on the streets below, but they were choked with people and militia; it would take too much time. 

"There's a stable out there," Connor said, pointing in the direction of the frontier. The dark smudge of green was just barely visible through the city's fine layer of chimney smoke. "We can rent horses and take them to General Washington's camp."

"Easy enough." He turned to his son with a wry grin. "Fancy seeing who makes it there first?"

"A race?" Connor asked, incredulous.

"A test of skill."

"Ha. You must be confident that you can best me."

"Oh, I am."

Haytham leapt to the next building and started to run. Connor gave an amused snort and followed after him a heartbeat later.

And Connor was so fast. Even with his headstart, Haytham found himself just a few paces behind the Assassin.

"Who taught you all of this?" Haytham shouted. He grabbed onto the bricks jutting from a wall and hoisted himself up. Connor tried the same and missed by inches. He fell behind.

"My mother," he called back. "So I could hunt. I did not see myself using my skills like this."

Ah. So Haytham assumed correctly. He darted up and around a wooden railing.

Connor was suddenly beside him again, and they were leaping through the city together.  

Haytham still couldn't see all of his face, but he didn't need to. Connor's half smile was enough.  

"Distracted?" his son asked.

Haytham returned the grin with one of his own.

"Never mind me. Just focus on keeping up."

They moved in silence for some time, eventually trading the roofs for the streets below when the buildings grew too far apart to safely traverse. The outskirts of New York were blessedly silent and empty – a welcome relief after weeks stuck on the Aquila that brought them to Benjamin Church.  

They ran side by side for a short while before Haytham slowed his pace to a jog. His chest was starting to ache; maybe his body was a bit more tired than he was ready to admit.

He assumed Connor would race ahead to the stables, but the Assassin stopped nearby.

"Done already?" he asked.

Haytham waved him off. "We'll need our strength for the ride to the encampment."

"I suppose that is true."

"This also gives me a chance to touch on something that I've wanted to bring up for a while now. Your response earlier reminded me."

"And what is that?"

Haytham risked a glance in Connor's direction. His expression was open, curious. He was staring back at Haytham, eyebrows raised.  

"I've had a few questions about your mother. About Ziio," Haytham said tentatively. This might be his only chance to ask Connor while he was still in a good mood; the last time he'd asked, in the darkness of Church's warehouse, hadn't gone quite so well.

"About what she taught me? She showed me how to climb the trees outside the village."

"She used to tease me, you know. By climbing to the treetops while I was stuck down below."

Connor laughed gently. "You never learned to follow her? It is easy."

"I never needed to. Unless I wanted to chase after her, of course."

"She told me once that one of her favorite memories was of you tramping through the snow beneath her, trying to keep up."

Haytham chuckled. "Yes, that happened quite often. She thought it was hilarious."

The laughter between them died down, and they walked without speaking for a while longer. Connor's mood seemed to have lifted a bit more – Haytham thought it might be a good opportunity to ask another question.

"Connor, how was she before she passed?"

His son's expression sobered instantly. "She was fine."

Connor seemed content to leave it at that, but Haytham pressed him.

"Did she raise you in her village? I would assume she did – she went there shortly after we ended our relationship."

"Yes. I was there until I began my training," he said, carefully. "She rarely spoke about you, but I knew who you were."

"I expected as much," Haytham said – though the confirmation still stung. "We did not part on the best of terms. I suppose I just... I wanted to know if she was happy. She must have been – she had you with her."

Connor stopped to look at him. His mouth was twisted in a frown, and his eyes... They were so hard to read.

"If you wanted to know, why did you avoid her?"  

"She wanted me to stay away. I was to have no contact with her – and with you, I see now."

A pause. Connor's voice was quieter when he spoke again. "Did you miss her?"

"Yes. I look back now, and I have to wonder what would have happened if I did go back? But I did as she asked. She would have been very angry if I went against her word. I wanted her to know that I still respected her wishes. That, above that, I still respected her."

"But the village was burned by your command-"

"It absolutely was not. I never would have given that command."

Something in his father's tone made Connor stop. Haytham kept walking for a few more moments, distracted by the anger that was rising up in his chest.  

"Then it was Charles Lee acting on his own," Connor said.  

"I doubt that. He's loyal to me."

"But his hatred for my people could have driven him to do it."

Haytham opened his mouth to argue -- and stopped. There was no point. He swallowed his words and pressed on.

"Come," he beckoned. "Weren't you the one who was so intent on seeing Washington?"

"I have one more question," Connor said.  

Haytham bit back a curse.

"What?"

"Did you love her?"

It was a question he'd asked himself so many times over the past twenty-something years, but Connor's words still punched a hole through his chest. Haytham closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. How to respond? Even he didn't know the answer. Not really.

"Like I said, I had – have – a great respect for Ziio. And I cared very much for her while we were together."

Connor folded his arms over his chest. "That does not answer the question."

"That is the best answer I can give you."

The Assassin exhaled quietly and let his arms fall back to his sides.  

"Let's go," he said, motioning to the road. "General Washington is waiting for us to return."

"Connor-"

"I do not want to discuss it anymore."

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

hey I have a les mis prompt for you: the amis being in a really hot bar with loads of people in it so no one really notices that r has the worst fever until he passes out from heat and illness and all and when he wakes up he's all delirious and is like hugging and snuggling up to enj bc he's so cold

(Y'ALL MY THIS IS MY FIRST LES MIS PROMPT. YES. HMU WITH THESE FRENCH BOYS. This is quite short bc I haven’t written whump for R before! E on the other hand..//sweats nervously)

Over the past few months the Les Amis has worked extremely hard for a fundraiser for teenagers with mental illnesses. They had all worked to the bone, blood and sweat, and fortunately karma went around and their hard work was paid off. They had raised a copious amount of money that made a significant change, and they were all ecstatic.

To celebrate, Grantaire had of course suggested they all go to a bar, much to Enjolras’s dismay, but the majority wanted to go and this was a democracy, dammit. Enjolras gave in with a sigh and went.

However the day of the celebration, Grantaire had woken up with an out of the blue fever.

Grantaire had a pretty good immune system, getting sick only a few times a year. He and Combeferre were always the first choices to be caretakers when someone took ill. This person was often Enjolras, which Grantaire was secretly very thrilled about. Not that he enjoyed the fierce leader’s agony, but rather the fact he had an excuse to spend time with him.

This fever came out of nowhere and without any warning, so Grantaire was very much confused. If it had come without warning, he had assumed that it would be fine and he’d turn up to the celebration anyway.

Boy, did Grantaire regret that decision.

The polychromatic flashing lights of the bar flickered into several different rich, vibrant colours every few seconds, the sudden change in surroundings jarring and alienating. Grantaire blinked, his troubled, aching head attempting to try and adjust to his new surroundings, only for the world to transform and warp into a new mix of colours.

A sickening wave of nausea hit him as the strobe lights continued to flash obnoxiously, sending him into a drugged like state, like he was on some acid trip. He wandered around the dance floor like a deer in the headlights, as his senses heightened uncomfortably, causing him to stumble as he walked. Grantaire wished someone would come and save him, but he only blended into the adrenaline filled environment, appearing drunk and just like his usual self.

Grantaire felt his heart beating rapidly at his chest as the blaring pop music pulsated and vibrated into the hot and humid air around him, feeling derealised and unpresent in the moment. He felt like he wasn’t in his own body, simply hovering around and watching as the world went by, out of his will. He felt detached from his body and environment, his warped reality surreal and like an abstract painting.

Grantaire blearily and feverishly looked around at the exhilarated people surrounding him, engulfed by the variegated lighting of the bar. They were drowned in a neon pink shadowed by an electric blue, then in a flash flickering into a green shadowed by a bright yellow. Grantaire began to feel extremely dizzy, staggering around looking for any one of his friends.

A plethora of sweaty, adrenaline rushed cramped together bodies stifled the air in the bar. Humid, sticky air filling across the area as Grantaire felt suffocated by the gross air. The air was oppressing, stuffy and restraining on his tired lungs. He felt clammy, sweaty and extremely uncomfortable. Grantaire breathed in heavily in an attempt to fill his body with much needed oxygen,  his lungs screaming for mercy as he continued to stumble his way across the bar.

Suddenly the light pattern changed again, perfectly hitting what appeared to be an angel sitting across at a couch, all alone. A bright red wash painting the angel brilliantly, a neon green splashing in areas of shadow. A masterful art piece artistically and craftily incorporating neon shades, a psychedelic masterpiece.

Slowly his eyes managed to focus on said angel, and soon enough Grantaire recognised the neon angel as Enjolras.

A wave of utter relief flooded through his fevered, heated body as he staggered and struggled towards the couch where he sat, clearly not enjoying himself either.

Enjolras crossed his arms, lowkey sulking as he watched the exhilaration of the people around him. Looking like a true outsider, watching the world go by from a window, separate from the buzz. Detached from reality like Grantaire, but for different reasons of course.

“Enj,” Grantaire slurred, almost drunkenly, making Enjolras believe him to be under the influence of alcohol.

Enjolras let out a small sigh, nodding in acknowledgement, “Grantaire.”

“What’re you doing over here? You should let loose a little and have fun, the party would love you surely,” Grantaire said feverishly, examining Enjorlas’s gorgeous features.

Enjolras refused to meet his eyes and shrugged tiredly, clearly feeling a little upset and derealised, “I appreciate your intentions, R, really, but the night life..just isn’t for me. I don’t..feel right here.”

Grantaire softened, momentarily forgetting about his own ailments in favour for his beloved, “Elaborate.”

Enjolras looked hesitant, but took a swig of his beer and let out a sharp exhale, clearly a little tipsy and more loose, “I can’t enjoy myself. The buzz is way too overwhelming, i don’t feel in control of myself and it’s just..too much. and it sucks being in a room full of exhilarated people and I can’t feel anything.”

Grantaire frowned, a gentle reassuring hand resting on top of Enjolras’s soft hand, “I didn’t know you felt like that, sucks dude. Sorry about that.”

Enjolras gave him a soft smile, “Its fine. Thanks for listening.”

Grantaire admired the gorgeous sight of Enjolras before him, taking in his beautifully crafted face. His soft, golden curls wonderfully framing his face. The sweetness in his crystal blue eyes. His perfect, radiant smile that was fresh and cool, a well needed contrast to the stuffy, humid and restricting air of the bar.

He looked beautiful right there in front of him, so surreal, he couldn’t possibly be here. He was like a dream.

In a flash, he woke up from his dream, only to awake to a nightmare of a reality. The horrible reality came clawing through, gnawing at his bones as his fever crawled back into his body and clouding his senses. A blazing hot wave of heat scorched and burned at his body, causing him to feel extremely lightheaded and faint. A sudden wave of weakness hit him, his body visibly slumping as his vision darkened, a distinct, screeching ringing in his ears as the world turned to darkness.

“Grantaire?!” Enjolras exclaimed as Grantaire’s body fell limp, eyes shut. His body slumped over and he fell down over the couch.

Enjolras hovered over him and felt his forehead, gasping in a panic as he felt the intense, scorching heat. His breathing picked up, finding it hard to breathe as his face heated up in anxiety. His hands shook as he felt his temperature, a terrible coldness spreading across his body and concentrating on his chest.

“Get your shit together, Enjolras, Grantaire needs you,” He hissed to himself, closing his eyes and taking a long inhale, holding his breath for a hot second before releasing a drawn out exhale, hoping he could shut his brain up.

Enjolras didn’t want to ruin the Les Amis’ night, because they had earned this break, truly. He was on his own.

The blonde hoisted the man up into a piggyback, with a bit of effort needed. Grantaire wasn’t exactly a light fairy, but in the moment getting Grantaire to safety was the only thing on his mind. He pushed the thoughts of pain out of his mind, solely concentrating on Grantaire’s wellbeing. He was all that mattered to him, far more than himself.

He struggled his way out of the restricting bar, his lungs begging for fresh air. He felt suffocated and sweaty, but Enjolras would have done anything for Grantaire. His only motivation was to help Grantaire, all other thoughts fading into the abyss of his mind.

Once he made his way out of the bar, he breathed in the fresh, crisp cool summer air. He took a second to appreciate the cool breeze that gently hit him, relishing in the wonderful sensation.

Enjolras spotted a taxi driving by, rushing to stop it. Thankfully, the taxi stopped for him. Sighing in relief he pulled the car door open and gently lifted Grantaire off his back and into the car, before sitting himself down and plopping Grantaire’s head on his lap.

“Where to?”

“Clotilde Ave, please,” Enjolras responded, before turning back to fuss over Grantaire, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over his dark curls.

“Hm, must have been a good party, huh? Your boyfriend is pretty drunk,” The taxi driver commented.

Enjolras blushed furiously, looking away awkwardly, “He’s not my–”

He wished.

“..uh..but he’s not drunk, he’s sick,” Enjolras explained as he continued to play with Grantaire’s hair.

“Oh, well I hope he gets better,” The taxi driver commented sympathetically.

“Thank you,” Enjolras mumbled before examining Grantaire’s face, scrunched up with discomfort. He sighed softly and gently traced around his heated face, trying to reassure himself that Grantaire was still with him, anxiety blaring as his brain made its way into dark places. He breathed in heavily, hands shaking slightly as he panicked internally.

“Hey kid? Don’t panic, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” The taxi driver said kindly.

“O-okay, thank you,” Enjolras said shakily, running a hand through his golden curls and hoped for the best.

Enjolras paid the taxi driver, thanking him before hoisting Grantaire up onto his back again. He held him firmly as he struggled up the stairs to his apartment (the damn elevator still hadn’t been fixed, it was already broken by the time he moved in, which wasn’t right) and gasped softly for air, feeling exhausted from the uphill climb and his friend’s weight. Enjolras made it into his floor finally and walked until he reached his door, whipping his keys out of his pocket and shoving them into the keyhole, twisting the door open.

Enjolras headed straight for his bedroom, gently placing Grantaire onto his bed. He carefully pushed a fluffed up pillow underneath Grantaire’s head, making sure he was comfortable. Once he had done that, he rushed towards his bathroom. He whipped out a towel out of a basket and soaked it in cold water, wringing the excess out. He opened a cupboard and searched for some medicine, finding numbers of empty boxes he was too stupid to throw away. Cursing his shitty immune system for going through so much medicine, he eventually found some ibuprofen.

Enjolras took a quick detour to his kitchen to grab Grantaire a glass of water, slightly panicking and wondering if he was doing anything wrong. He felt tempted to text the group chat, but knew they’d all come piling into his apartment fussing and Enjolras really didn’t want that. He sucked it up and rushed back towards his bedroom where Grantaire was.

Enjolras gently draped the cold towel over Grantaire’s forehead. He let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, running his hands through his hair exhaustedly.

“Enjolras..” Grantaire mumbled in his sleep, arms poking out as he reached helplessly.

Enjolras’s heart melted, a little smile cracking through his worried features. He climbed up onto bed, pressing himself against Grantaire comfortingly and beginning to run his hands through Grantaire’s hair again. He knew he had to wake him up to get his fever down and for him to take medicine, but he didn’t know how.

Fortunately, Grantaire began to stir and his eyes slowly blinked open. He looked up at Enjolras blearily, blinking to try and register his form. Once Grantaire recognised who it was, his entire face lit up, eyes sparkling as a dumb little grin spread across his face.

“Enjy!” Grantaire squeaked deliriously, throwing himself over Enjolras, arms tightly wrapped around Enjolras so that he was basically smothering him with love and buried his face into Enjolras’s soft hoodie, snuggling his nose into his chest.

Enjolras blushed deeply, his heart fluttering and insides warming up. His heart was beating fast, hands becoming clammy and breath was picking up. He was so smitten with this man that his body literally could not handle it.

“I’m so cold, Enjy, I haaate it!~” Grantaire whined childishly, pouting as he continued to cuddle the healthier man, squeezing him tight and trying to leech the warmth of off him.

Enjolras exhaled shakily, trying to regain his composure, clearing his throat, “Y-you have to t-take medicine first..”

Grantaire grinned, eyes sleepy and feverish, “Anything for the beautiful and excellent Enjolras!”

Enjolras let out a little chuckle, popping a pill out of the packet and passing it to Grantaire who swallowed it down with some water.

“Maybe this pill is what’s making me so in love with you..maybe you should take some too? Maybe then you could love me too..” Grantaire slurred, his voice darkening and softening as his statement progressed.

Enjolras’s heart broke, and slowly cupped a hand around Grantaire’s cheek softly, and then a sudden surge of bravery, an irresistible impulse, like it was his destiny, like this was what he was meant to do,“I don’t need to take those pills, R, I’ve already taken them..I already love you.”

Grantaire let out the most delighted and cheerful squeal, squeeing and without thinking pulling Enjolras close to him and pressing his own lips against his.

Enjolras gasped softly at the sudden warmth and delight that filled his body, something blooming in him like a flower in the spring, fireworks exploding into a beautiful red and green, the sun coming out for the first time after a long winter.

Grantaire pulled away, giggling, burying himself into Enjolras’s sweater yet again, continuing to snuggle him.

“I kissed a pretty boy!” Grantaire giggled.

Enjolras blushed, stunned and at a disbelief. This didn’t feel real, it had to be a dream. But he had never felt more awake.

He hadn’t even been aware of the passage and concept of time because suddenly Enjolras was aware of Grantaire’s breathing evening out, asleep. Enjolras could only hold him close like that, a slight  feeling of remorse as he realised the harsh reality knowing Grantaire would not remember any of this tomorrow.

But for now he was in this moment and he would make it last for as long as he could.

[kyber-crystal]

Divided We Fall

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.7k

Summary: In which she feels torn between the man she’s grown to love, whose ideas she agrees with, and her mentor and brother figure - who took her in with open arms and always accepted her when nobody else could.

Warnings: mentions of violence, angst, soft steve as always. you know the drill

A/N: tony’s your sort-of older brother (he took you in to train you not long before howard and maria passed), and you’re around steve’s age? I think? idk. includes a short IW scene but the time skip isn’t as drastic. SUPER SHITTY BC THIS IS A REALLY OLD ONESHOT

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ <3

Steve stood alone in the isle after Peggy’s funeral, leaning against the pew as he stared blankly down at the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You silently approached him and without introduction, he began to speak. "When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her."

"She had you back, too."

Steve looked up, meeting your gaze. "Who else signed?"

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat."

"Clint?"

"Says he's retired," you smiled slightly.

"Wanda?"

"TBD. I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet."

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

"Just because it's the path of least resistance," you continued, "doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

"What are we giving up to do it?" He shook his head, unconvinced by your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't sign it."

"I know. I don't want to, either. But it's not like I have any other choice."

"The thing is, you do."

"You know why I am." You gave him a hard stare. "Tony...he's basically the only family I have left. I'm no longer a daughter, no longer a girl with dreams...no longer with hope. I'm a weapon. As much as I don't agree with him, betraying him is the last thing I wanna do. He’s my mentor. I can’t just turn against him like that...it wouldn’t feel right."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I've done," you took in a deep breath, "I don't want to hurt any more people. I don't want to be controlled by a government that might not deem everything big enough of a threat for us to go out and do something about it, but I can't risk any more than I already have. I don't have any other choice but to sign those Accords, Steve."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I didn't want you to be alone."

You stepped forward, carefully pulling him into an embrace and at first, he tensed up at your touch but eventually relaxed, letting his arms wrap around you to pull you closer. And he just held you there, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other one held to the back of your head. Your head was buried in his chest and the warmth of him felt so familiar and safe; oddly comforting, that your chest began to ache because you knew in a matter of time you'd be ripped apart again.

Steve felt guilty. Despite the fact that he was the majority of the reason why all of this was happening, you still found it in your heart to look past it all and forgive him, to accept him for who he was. 

The broken woman standing before him was someone he'd grown to care about far more than he wanted himself to. Knowing that it wasn't long before you were taken away from him and forced to stand against him only made his grip around you tighten, as he was afraid to let you go out of his sight.

...

Seeing you across from him on the opposite side of the battlefield, standing firmly in between your Tony and T'Challa, broke his heart. If he was forced to fight Tony's team, he would. But he wasn't going to fight you, no matter what.

Everyone, while they were all busy fighting each other, could clearly tell something was going on between the two of you. But they didn't question it. They could clearly tell Steve loved you too much to even try and lay a finger on you and when someone else tried to, he quickly advanced on them.

You finally caved and turned last minute towards the end of the battle, unable to stand against the one man you cared about more than anyone else that wasn't family.

Everyone's actions followed with consequences. Though you'd switched sides abruptly, you'd been granted permission to stay with Tony at the compound under strict circumstances that you never stepped out of line again, or you'd be sent to the Raft prison along with the rest of Team Cap as well.

"Cap loves you, you know," Rhodey noticed your solemn expression as you, him, and Tony sat around in the lounge, taking in the aftermath.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you pressed your fingers to your temples. "I made a mistake."

"We all make mistakes. People do bad things when they're trying to survive."

"Tony, I'm sorry," you turned over to the billionaire, "but I just...I couldn't stand against him. Not when we've stuck together for so long." The words that came out of Tony's mouth surprised you.

"I know. He couldn't do that, either."

"We've all done things that we'd like to take back," you murmured, staring down at your hands now in your lap, "Pain makes people change. I'd like to believe I didn't just do this, I didn't almost turn on you guys. You know I didn't want to sign. But I did, because you're like my family. I can't fight my own family." "He's made mistakes, yeah," Rhodey said, "but we've all messed up, you know. We’re only human.”

"My mistake was letting myself love someone I'd have to end up hurting eventually," you stated bitterly, a sharp edge to your voice.

"Cap made that same mistake, too," Tony spoke up. "We all screwed up. Some of us just have to find it in ourselves to forgive...but I don't know if I can do that yet."

"I know," you glanced over at him, "I miss them so much. Your parents...they changed my life for the better."

The billionaire took in a shaky breath. "I miss them too."

"You guys might wanna open this now," Rhodey handed you an envelope with your name on it, and Tony a package with a phone inside. "Tony Stank."

You snorted, and Tony cracked a small smile.

"Table for one, Tony Stank?" you joked.

"You're practically a Stank too, Y/L/N, you know that," he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Tony Stank just sounds funnier."

You quickly fell silent as you opened the letter.

Y/N, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you and Stark rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. I know I hurt you both. I guess I thought by not telling you about Howard and Maria that I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we all agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. I know you didn't want to sign, but you were right in siding with your family. Even though you were on the opposite side of the battlefield, I couldn't fight you. I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't and I never will. No matter what happens. Just know that I ...

"Priority call from Secretary Ross," FRIDAY's voice drifted through the room, "There's been a breach at the Raft prison." "Yeah, put him through."

"Y/N, Tony, we have a problem, Cap and—" Ross called in.

"Ah, please hold," you interrupted.

"No, don't—"

You glanced back down at the letter in your hands, filled from top to bottom with Steve's elegant handwriting.

So, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there. It's you, it always has been and it always will be, and I'm sorry for realizing that too late. I'm sorry for not being able to come back. I know I promised I'd always be by your side, and I will. Although I may not in the best situation to return right now, I promise you I'll see you soon. Take care, -S.R.

Several tears welled up in your eyes and slipped down your face as you closed the letter, staining the paper with dark spots.

"So, what'd he say," Tony took in your watery eyes and hard-set jaw. "Something wrong?"

"...He's on the run," your voice broke, "but they're all out. He broke them out.”

...

170 DAYS LATER

It was almost half a year of Team Cap jumping from motel to motel under different names and disguises every night, while still trying to defend the world as best as they possibly could. And when they were caught, Steve was sure that they'd be sent back.

"He'll come back soon, I'm sure of it," Rhodey reassured you as you watched the news of the search for Captain America was still underway. "When someone loves you the way he does, he's gonna find a way to return."

"He doesn't love me. I'm no better than a monster. And...I'm pretty sure he has heart eyes for Sharon."

"Well, he fucked up on that part," he agreed, clasping your shoulder, "but you know what? In the end, he still loves you. We all saw the way he looked at you back in Germany, he didn't want to hurt you. If he truly cared, he wouldn't hurt you even if you were on the opposing side, and that's what he did. I know he's gonna return: for your sake."

"I don't know why I'm letting myself do this."

"What? Loving him? That isn't anything new."

"New?"

"Sweetheart, I knew from the moment I first saw you look at him that you were. Look, love is worth fighting for, but sometimes you can't be the only one fighting. At times, people need to fight for you. You gotta be vulnerable and let him in your heart. Otherwise you'll keep feeling like you're in pain."

He did return.

You'd gone to trial and defended him under your name two weeks prior. Much to your current oblivion, your persuasion had worked and he was granted release and allowed to return, though he did so under the same strict circumstances given to you as well. He was warned to not pull off something like this a second time, and promise to ask for the government's aid whenever necessary.

So you're not expecting to buzz him and the others in late one Friday night.

"Y/N."

"Nat?"

"Can you buzz us in?"

"Uh...yeah, sure," you nodded, opening the gates to let them through. Within minutes, they were standing right in front of you, looking the exact same as they did five months ago, though the exhaustion was clear in all their faces.

"Greetings, Y/N." The android's arm was slung around Sam's shoulders, who was helping to hold him upright.

"Vision."

"It's good to see you guys, Rhodey greeted.

"t's great to see you too," Wanda smiled. She seemed to have aged a bit since you'd last seen her though she was only a teenager, but still looked much younger than everyone nonetheless.

"Well, you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of months."

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five-star," Sam shrugged. "Where's Clint?"

"After the whole Accords situation, him and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest," Natasha explained.

She turned to you and gave you a tight hug, squeezing your hand as she pulled away. "Hey. How you holding up?"

"Could be better," you gave her a sad smile. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, hey."

Steve stepped out from behind Wanda and Sam and took a few tentative steps towards you, his feet feeling heavier by the second.

The one man you thought you wouldn't be seeing again for a while was now in front of you, and you weren't sure how to react. Your heartbeat was deafeningly loud in your ears, drowning out the sounds of everything else as everyone fell silent upon seeing you two interact.

"Hey," you responded a few moments later, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. You lifted your head slowly, an unrecognizable sort of emotion flickering in your eyes for a brief second before you averted his gaze and looked back down at the ground.

He still looked the same, with his dirty-blonde hair and tall, muscular build, those piercing blue eyes and comforting arms. The sight of him alone made your chest ache and your stomach twist itself into knots at the same time you felt butterflies flying around. You hated that you allowed yourself to care about him so much, that your body still reacted to the sight of him even after not seeing him for so long.

"Uh...we'll give you two a moment," Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, leaving the room with the others.

When you glanced back up again you could see just how much being away had affected his overall appearance: his bright blue eyes that glittered with authority and passion had lost their light, red-rimmed and bloodshot with dark circles underneath that indicated it had been days since he last slept.

"I'm sorry, I know it took a while, but I'm here now. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you said quietly. You swallowed hard, feeling the familiar sting to your eyes as you struggled to keep your tears at bay.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close like you'd done to him before all those months ago, gently rubbing your back. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it still fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his and you sunk into his warmth, his touch making the room feel warmer somehow. His arms that held you were soft and comforting, yet strong and firm at the same time, and the feeling of being so close to him was so dizzying to the point it made your head spin. But you didn't want to let go, so you held onto him as tight as you possibly could.

During the time of his absence, when the majority of your days were spent wandering around the compound alone, you taught yourself to ignore the pressing feeling in the back of your head, the way you felt as if there was some void in your heart that could only be filled by him and him alone. Day by day you attempted to convince yourself that no, you weren't falling in love with him, no, you weren't supposed to fall in love with him because it'd only destroy you in the end.

Yet you still did.

Always playing the part of promoting liberty and justice for all, Steve believed his sole purpose was to inspire and empower others to make the world a better place, blending into the mantra of 'a star-spangled man with a plan.' He always planned things out, always knew what he was doing.

So when he realized as he was holding you there in his arms, that he'd fallen in love with you, he didn't have a plan. And frankly, it terrified him.

He didn't have a plan, so he just decided to go with what his gut told him.

Steve brushed a stray hair that fell across your face and tucked it behind your ear. You looked up in surprise, heart hammering against your chest as his thumb brushed ever so gently against your cheek before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

That's all he needed to do in order to eradicate all the anger, all the pent-up frustration and other emotion inside of you, to make you forgive him for every little thing that he's done to break your heart because there was nothing he could possibly do to make you love him any less.

"I love you," you mumbled as you pulled away, resting your head against his broad chest.

"I know. I love you too."