#i’m slowly losing it in the pit of canon if you can’t tell

[kkaimmri]

i feel like we forget most of the time that dick and jason are supposed to be identical to bruce. like i know it’s pre-52 canon stuff and that’s kinda overlooked a lot but it’s lowkey freaky. like none of them are biologically related but they supposedly all look superr similar??

i just imagine gothamites absolutely freaked out by bruce popping out with these kids that look exactly like him and he’s claiming that they’re adopted?? weirddddd stuff guys.

[pollenallergie]

the favourite

Word Count: 4k

Description: Ralph checks in on his favourite maid.

A/N: as always, all credit for Ralph’s canon surname goes to @mypoisonedvine!! <3

CW/TW: nothing to see here, just good ole fashion comfort fic. some brief mentions of vomiting/stomach issues, but that’s all. just good ole wholesome fluff. reader is referred to as a woman, and she/her pronouns are occasionally used to refer to her… i’m sorryyyy i really meant to make this more gender-neutral, but there was some wording that sounded really clunky when written to be gender neutral, and i couldn’t find out how to get around it, so i caved. i’m sorry :/

Ralph paces outside the maids’ quarters, fretting about what sort of state you must be in. He’s not seen you all day, and that, in and of itself, is quite unusual.

From the moment he’d noticed that you were missing at breakfast, he’d begun to worry. However, his anxiety only increased tenfold when he’d overheard a couple of the other servants discussing how you’d fallen ill in the late, late hours of last night. Now that Ralph knows the true reason for your sudden absence, he debates whether he should pay a visit to the maids’ quarters to check in on you.

On the one hand, he cares for you deeply, probably more than a man should care about one of his maids, and wants to support you in your time of need. However, on the other hand, Ralph is quite squeamish and he worries that he will not be able to handle seeing you in such a compromised state. Or, rather, he fears that any reaction he may have to your sickly plight will only make things worse for you.

“Ralph,” his sister, Victoria, shouts from the other room, “Would you stop pacing? I can hear your feet pitter-pattering, it’s driving me mad! And you’re creating a draft,” she scolds him harshly.

“R-right, of course,” he stutters, now forced to make a choice. Shall he go in and check on you or should he simply wait for you to come out on your own, once you’ve recovered?

Suddenly, it occurs to Ralph that you may never recover, that this mysterious ailment may well be fatal. Should that be the case, then Ralph would lose you forever. That thought stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s decided then, Ralph thinks, I must go check on her.

So, he peeks down the hall, ensuring Victoria is far enough away that she won’t notice him sneaking into your room. Once he’s confirmed to himself that his sister is too far from him to be aware of his clandestine activities, Ralph slowly and quietly opens the door to your rooms, calling out your name to ensure that he won’t startle you.

“It’s me, Ralph. Are you decent?” He inquires politely.

“Yes,” you hum out pathetically as one of your cold hands snakes under your duvet to gently cradle your aching stomach. At this point, you can’t tell if your chills are the result of the frosty winter weather that roars on just outside the thin glass of your bedroom window or of the illness you’d awoken with last night.

At the sound of your pitiful tone, Ralph swiftly enters your room and softly shuts the door behind him. He then promptly makes his way over to you before coming to kneel at your bedside, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Oh, dove, what’s happened to you?” Ralph asks frantically with his eyes flitting back and forth as he takes in your sallow appearance. Your heart thrums at the term of endearment he’s used.

Perhaps it should be concerning that one of your employers has invaded your space, the only comfort you are owed as a domestic servant, this realm of so-called privacy that you share with two other young ladies and one very pious older lady. Not to mention that he’s referred to you in such an inappropriate manner. However, you’ve come to expect such behaviour from Ralph, who has never much bothered with upholding social customs.

Surprisingly, he frequently pays even less mind to cultural standards than his twin sister, Victoria, a woman known far and wide for her eccentricities. Victoria, for example, certainly doesn’t make a habit of fraternising with the help beyond the typical daily exchanges that take place in the home. Ralph, however, is quite chummy with all of the staff of the Penbury House.

Though, recently you’ve become his favourite, most likely because you indulge his odd little whims more than the others and more than you probably should. Although, now you’re hardly in the right state to properly accommodate such spontaneity.

“My stomach,” you pathetically whimper your response as you look up at him with sorrowful, glassy eyes.

Ralph feels his heart break at the sight. Only then does he notice the empty bin positioned precariously by your bed, and he begins to feel a nervousness flutter about in his belly.

“Are you- Have you gotten sick?” He asks, his voice having gone up an octave from all of his worrying.

You nod before attempting to provide verbal confirmation, only to then be cut off by a sharp, cramping pain shooting through your abdomen. You wince at the horrid feeling, causing Ralph to frown.

“Is it painful?” He asks softly.

“Yes,” you whimper out, an unintentionally adorable pout taking over your features.

You cannot help but feel ashamed. A member of the household staff should never make their discomfort known to their employers, even if your master did ask you directly. Perhaps, if anyone overheard you, you can simply blame it on your fever-addled mind. Certainly that seems reasonable, right?

You’ve heard of men at war having delusions of grandeur as a result of incredibly high fevers, caused by infected wounds, warping their minds. Certainly then it must be reasonable to suspect that your mild fever is at fault for your current inability to properly think things through before you say them aloud.

Oblivious to your mental plight, Ralph lifts his hand to rest near your temple, the tips of his fingers gently stroking the damp, wispy strands at your hairline as he coos, “Oh, poppet, I shall call for a doctor at once.” It’s a comforting touch accompanied by words that speak of a kindness someone like you simply will never deserve from someone like him, you are well aware of that, yet you cannot help but lean into the touch all the same.

“I’ll be alright, my lord,” you reply, giving your polite, indirect refusal.

Ralph tsks in disapproval, “Sweetling, you know that I will not know peace until you’ve recovered. Please, let me help you,” he begs sweetly.

You sigh, your resolve swiftly melting under the heat of the pleading gaze that his coffee brown eyes fix you with.

“Thank you, my lord,” you say, simultaneously accepting his aid and articulating your gratitude for it while your lips curl up into a small, shy smile.

In turn, he rewards your reluctant acceptance with a big, beaming grin. He then gingerly takes one of your clammy hands, the only one which is not currently cradling your aching stomach, into one of his own before placing a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“Rest up, dove. I’ll be back shortly,” Ralph informs you giddily, oddly excited by the prospect of caring for you. He then swiftly departs, rushing off to ring up their local physician.

Only an hour or so later, you're suddenly awoken by the sound of the door to your quarters opening with an eerie creak. You huff and roll over without opening your eyes, presuming it to be one of the other maids.

“Darling, I have returned,” Someone calls out in a singsong tone as they enter your room, “I apologise for being away for so long. You would not believe how difficult it was to get in touch with our family’s physician.”

“Ralph?” You ask, momentarily forgetting your manners due to the lingering exhaustion, as you roll over and open your bleary eyes to look at the person.

“Yes, ‘tis I,” he confirms theatrically, just as energetic and campy as ever, as he sets down a glass of water and a cup of tea on your night stand.

Ralph then gracelessly plops down on your bed, a canvas bag filled with various bits and bobs still loosely tucked into the crook of his elbow as he comes to sit just by where your feet rest under the blankets.

“Oh, how I do love it when you simply call me by my name,” he remarks cheerfully as he gently boops your nose.

“It’s improper,” you grumble, “I should always refer to you by your title.”

“Perhaps it is, but I love it all the same,” Ralph replies, still sporting his cheerful smile as he busies himself with setting out all of the things he’s brought with him on top of the wooden trunk that sits near the foot of your tiny bed.

Now that Ralph thinks about it, he really should arrange for you to get a bigger bed, maybe he should arrange for all the staff to get bigger beds; he can’t imagine these are very comfortable. You’re a grown woman, a lovely, amazing, kind, unfairly beautiful grown woman, you deserve to sleep in a bed befitting a grown adult.

“Now,” Ralph begins to explain once he’s arranged everything to his liking, “It would seem that Dr. Wycoff has already stepped out for the day, so he won’t be able to come until tomorrow morning. However, you needn’t fret, for I had one of our footmen go out and fetch you some things that might ease your discomfort, at least until we can get you proper medical attention.”

“My lor-” you attempt to interject, most likely to remind Ralph that his fretting over you is both completely unnecessary and entirely inappropriate, though the attempt is in vain as your master continues with his ramblings.

“Now, let’s see, I’ve got some ginger tea to help calm your stomach, a hot water bottle for the cramping, a glass of cold water with some mint leaves in it, a couple pieces of toast, and a collection of poetry that I can read to you. What shall we start with first?” He asks eagerly, looking at you with those wide, kind eyes of his. There’s a spark of determination present in his warm gaze and it lets you know that any further attempts you make to refuse his care, whether they’re for propriety’s sake or otherwise, will be futile.

You huff out a breath, the sound of it is something between a humorous chuckle and resigned sigh, before smiling up at him fondly.

“Perhaps we could start with the hot water bottle and maybe the book of poems as well,” you suggest.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but, somehow, his smile seems to become even bigger and brighter than before. “Marvelous idea, poppet,” He says sweetly as he grabs the hot water bottle.

Rather than simply handing the item to you, as you initially expect, Ralph simply lifts the linens away from you, revealing your form to him, so that he can place the hot water bottle on your aching stomach himself. The moment he registers that you’re in your nightdress — your white cotton nightdress, which is surprisingly thin and not doing much to conceal your form from him — he realises his mistake.

Ralph gingerly, yet hastily places the hot water bottle on your stomach, his fingertips able to feel the warmth of your skin through your nightdress as he does so. His cheeks and the tips of his ears burn with a warm blush as he aids you. Ralph then promptly rights the linens back in place so that you’re properly covered, before swiftly rising to his feet, turning away and attempting to disguise his flusteredness by clearing his throat.

“I apologise,” he exhales a shaky breath, still refusing to look at you, “for erm- well- I only meant to help. It was not my intention to erm- to violate you. I would never want to dis-”

“My lord, it’s quite alright.”

“-respect you or to- to, erm, to dishonour you.”

“You haven’t, my lord,” you attempt to interject, though it seems nothing you say will halt his spiraling.

Oh, well, drastic times call for drastic measures.

“It was certainly not my intention to force myself onto you or to, erm, to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. Truly, I only meant to help you, to care for you, because, well, I think I might l-”

“Ralph,” you interrupt.

The sound of his own name finally captures his attention as he turns to face you once more, mostly out of shock; you hardly ever call him by his first name, despite the fact that he’s made it very obvious that he wishes you would only ever refer to him by his first name, his name, not the name held by his father and his sister and every other Penbury who’s not him.

You reach out to gently grasp one of his hands in one of your own, clammy, hands. “It’s alright.”

He looks down at your intertwined hands, then back at your face, focusing on your eyes which look up at him so kindly, and then down to your lips which are curled into a soft, shy smile, one that, in his wildest dreams, he lets himself believe you reserve only for him.

“It is?” He asks, his tone still wavering with worry.

“Yes,” you reassure him before patting the spot he once sat in, silently encouraging him to sit back down, to be near you again.

Ralph obliges your wordless request and hesitantly lowers himself to sit back down on the edge of your bed.

He’s quiet still, too quiet, especially considering that neither of the Penbury twins are ever quiet. You worry that he’s still lost in his own mind, panicking about propriety, much like you always are. You don’t like seeing him worry.

“My lord, I do believe you promised to read some poems to me,” you remind him, not truly wanting to boss him around, but rather wanting to give him something to focus on other than his recent misstep.

“R-right, right, of course, I, erm,” he pauses to clear his throat, looking down at his hands as he wrings them together, deciding whether he should speak the next words allowed given how he’s already disregarded your boundaries today. Ultimately, he sighs and decides to take the risk.

“I’ll, erm- I’ll read them to you but only,” he whispers before pausing briefly to let out a shaky breath, “only if you promise to stop referring to me as ‘my lord’ when we’re alone. I’d,” he pauses once more, summoning the courage needed to speak his next words aloud, “I’d much rather you call me Ralph when it’s just the two of us.”

He’s told you this many times before and you’ve never been outright offended, but still, he worries.

Although, you’ve recently, within the last few minutes, called him Ralph all on your own, making that the second time that you’ve referred to him by his name today. Twice is certainly the most you’ve ever called him by his name in a day as you almost never refer to him as anything but ‘my lord’ when addressing him directly and ‘Lord Penbury’ when referring to him in conversations with the other household staff members; conversations he really shouldn’t eavesdrop on, but that he always does, at least, when you’re a part of them.

Certainly your seemingly waning hesitance to call him by his name must be a good sign, right?

You reply, “Maybe I shall call you Ralphie.”

It’s a joke, one that shouldn’t be said aloud, one that you didn’t properly think over before you said it aloud, one that has entirely too much truth behind it, one that really wouldn’t seem like a joke at all if not for your humorous tone. Ralph certainly doesn’t seem to think it a joke.

He smiles brightly, some of that characteristic Penbury enthusiasm returning to him in that moment, as he genuinely replies, “I would love that, sweetling.”

“Now,” Ralph continues, “as for the poems, this book is from my own personal collection. It’s the selected poems of John Keats. He’s one of my favourites. It’s a shame tuberculosis took him so young. Thankfully you don’t have tuberculosis, or, at least, I’ve got no reason to think that you do. I believe tuberculosis is the one with all the coughing, and you haven’t a cough, just an upset stomach, right, darling?” He rambles as he digs the book out of his bag and then thumbs through it in search of his favourite poem.

“Right,” you confirm, “no coughing.”

He hums at that, offering mere acknowledgment as he’s already moved onto another subject entirely. Usually you’re one of the only ones who’s able to keep up with him in conversation, whenever you’re actually afforded the opportunity to indulge him in it without getting caught by the housekeeper, the woman in charge of you and all the other female servants. However, today it’s difficult to keep up with his rapidly shifting focuses, likely due to your current state of ill health.

“Are you familiar with his work?” Ralph asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” You question, too lost in your own thoughts to remember who he’s talking about.

“John Keats. Are you familiar with any of his poems?” He asks again, not at all bothered by the fact that you seem to have lost focus for a moment there.

One thing you’ve learned in your time working here at the Penbury estate is that the younger of the two Penbury twins is exceedingly patient, whilst the elder is exceedingly short-tempered.

“I’m afraid not, erm,” you heistate before calling him by his desired nickname, still reluctant to let go of propriety, “Ralphie,” you reply, giving in to the temptation to please him, to make him happy by calling him something far more personal than his title.

It’s the first time you’ve actually used that nickname when addressing him and the sound of it sets fireworks alight in his chest.

“Oh, how dreadful! I suppose we shall start with the classics then, yes? This one is called ‘You Say You Love’ and it’s easily one of my favourites of all the poems I’ve ever read,” Ralph explains before leaning in close to tap your nose with an audible ‘boop’ before assuring you, in a tone that’s much like the one he uses when he’s cooing lovingly, “you’re going to positively adore it, sweetling, I’m certain of it.”

He sits up again, opening the book to the correct page before suddenly remembering the tea he’d had the kitchen staff prepare for you.

“Sweetling,” Ralph calls out to you.

“Yes, Ralphie?” He can’t help but smile at the sound of your sweet voice uttering his preferred nickname, this time noticeably less tentative than before.

“Do remember to drink your tea before it goes cold, my lo- my dear,” he clears his throat out of embarrassment before reaffirming, “erm, j-just dear. Dearest, even!”

She’s not yours, Ralph, you blasted fool! He harshly reminds himself.

You bravely rest one of your hands atop his own, knowing he needs the comforting touch to ground him and help him avoid another spiral. “I will,” you assure him.

“R-right, erm,” he clears his throat, “let us begin.”

You hum your approval as you reach over to carefully grab the cup of tea from where it sits on the trunk by your bed. Ralph can’t help but smile as he watches you take a sip, all while still clutching the hot water bottle to your tummy.

“You say that you love,” he begins, immediately channeling the energy of a romantic poet, like John Keats, waxing poetic about unrequited love, “but with a voice chaster than a nun’s…”

You sit back, resting against your thin, floppy pillow, sipping your ginger tea whilst you listen to him recite one of his favourite poems in a tone of voice so soft and intimate, that it begins to lull you to sleep.

It’s not long before you’re sound asleep, but, even then, Ralph doesn’t stop reading his poems; mostly because he’s so engrossed in the works of his favourite poet that he fails to notice that you’ve fallen asleep.

Once he does notice, however, he sets his book aside so that can help get you settled. He carefully eases the cup of tea out of your clutches, lest you spill it on yourself in your sleep, and sets it aside. He takes great care in gently tucking you in, careful not to wake you as he makes sure you’re sufficiently covered by your bed linens.

Thanks to your lack of consciousness, Ralph even finds the courage to lean forward and press a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead. Though, he soon realizes that might have been a mistake as your forehead is very sweaty, no doubt thanks to your fever, and now your now-cold perspiration is on his lips. He grimaces at the gross feeling as he harshly wipes your sweat off of his lips with the sleeve of shirt. He also indulges in a sip of your tea, just to make sure that your sweat is well and truly gone.

“I shall remain right here as you sleep, sweetling. I won’t leave your side, not for a moment,” Ralph reassures your sleeping form.

He makes good on his word, sitting at your side and watching you sleep, memorising the slope of your nose and the roundness of your cheeks, reading poem after poem to you even though you aren’t awake to hear them.

Ralph even replaces your hot water bottle when it goes cold, handing it off to Langley — who’s been dutifully waiting outside the door to the maids’ chambers ever since he discovered his master was in there — so that he can have the kitchen staff rewarm it for you. He still blushes and flusters when he lifts the linens to take the now useless water bottle from you, he still feels wildly guilty about crossing any boundaries, even though you’re in too deep of a sleep to notice. Ralph even finishes your tea before it goes cold and then has Langley order the kitchen staff to prepare some more for you.

Speaking of dear Langley, the Penburys’ head butler whose current, steadfast presence by the door to the maids’ quarters, a place he’s never been posted outside of before, gives away Ralph’s presence in your room to anyone and everyone who walks by.

Luckily for Ralph, Victoria would never set foot in what she colloquially refers to as the “Help Hall,” a hallway lined with doors that lead to the various rooms the staff of the townhouse reside in.

Still, he can’t imagine that the women with whom you share your room are at all happy to have their master lingering in their space. So, when the evening draws to a close, and he hears the murmurs of other staff members going off to their rooms in that same hallway, Ralph reluctantly leaves your side to avoid causing any offense to the other maids, who’ve never been anything but kind to him.

Nevertheless, before he leaves, Ralph places another soft kiss on your forehead, and this time, he has the forethought to use his handkerchief to wipe away most of the sweat before he presses his lips there. He holds his lips there a bit longer than last time, hoping that, even in your sleep, you can feel the warmth of his affections pouring through the gesture.

When Ralph pulls away, he whispers to your sleeping form, “Unfortunately, I must take my leave now, but I will return tomorrow morning so that I may continue to look after you in your time of need. I shall return every day until you are well again, dear heart, this much I promise, and you must know that a Penbury always keeps their promises,” Ralph pauses, his brows furrowing as he thinks over his words, “Or, at least, I always keep my promises. If memory serves me correctly, I’ve not broken a promise yet, and I most certainly do not intend to start doing so now.”

Suddenly, Ralph sighs; it's a solemn, dejected sound that perfectly conveys his reluctance to leave your side. His eyes rake over your sleeping form once more, hoping to memorize the sight of you in the hopes that you might appear in his dreams tonight.

“I know you cannot hear me right now, sweetling, and m-maybe that is for the best, but,” Ralph trails off, interrupting himself to take a deep, calming breath. He then uses his handkerchief to wipe off some of the sweat on your cheek before leaning in to plant a gentle kiss there. When Ralph pulls away, he moves just slightly so that his lips hover near your ear, and then softly whispers, “I love you.”

[danceswithsporks]

Awake-Part 4

Crosshair x f! Innkeeper

*Not canon to Season 3*

Parts 1 2 3

Chapter Summary: Crosshair begins to try and settle into life on Pabu while dealing with his feelings.

Authors Notes: It’s another long one folk! This one was tough for me to write for whatever reason. I think I hit a wall and I’m slowly getting over it. Think of it as a 60ft wall and I’m using two little daggers to climb over it because I can’t find a ladder. Does that make sense? Idfk. All I know is this took me longer than intended and I’m so sorry for that! I still hope you’ll enjoy this chapter! ♥️

Spotify Playlist has been updated with the new song!

Awake, he was fucking awake again. The entire inn was asleep and yet here he fucking was. Wide awake and lost in thought. Ever since he’d arrived on this island he’d barely slept. When he did sleep she wasn’t there anymore. Instead, she was replaced by those he’d lost like Mayday and Tech. They haunted his sleep. They berated him and reminded him of their deaths. Tortured him with the knowledge that they’d both died and he was in some way connected.

It had been a week since they’d returned to Pabu and Crosshair had scarcely left his room. In the last seven days, he’d left twice. Once, on their first day there to try and interact with the others, and then on day four to go with Hunter and Echo to check on Wrecker and the kid. He couldn’t even make it to their home before he turned back. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t face the kid right now. 

During his walk back to his room, he ran into you. You smiled at him and it made his heart beat fast. He still didn’t understand how you could be real. You used to run rampant in his dreams and then suddenly you’d stopped. Your voice, your laugh, and your eyes, it was all the same. How could this be possible? He still hadn’t mentioned to the others about his dream in fear they’d write him off as crazy. Deep down he knew they never would do that. But his mind kept telling him they could. 

“Good evening, Crosshair.” You said sweetly to him as he walked by. The flowing sundress you wore blew in the breeze of your opened patio doors. “Will you join us for dinner tonight?” You looked hopefully at him. 

He shook his head no as he neared the stairs. He felt horrible for not speaking to you. He’d dreamed about you so much before meeting you and now he couldn’t even face you. What would you think of him if you knew everything he’d done and what he’d gone through? Would you continue to be this nice?

You watched in silence. The way he was acting reminded you of how Stitches had acted after losing her parents. It had been months before she was back to normal. From what you’d heard from Stitches, Crosshair had made the call to the boys to warn them. Could he possibly blame himself for them leaving the safety of Pabu and the avoidable death of his brother? You sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. That was a dark deep pit to be stuck in. It took you and many others months to get Stitches back to normal. Maybe you should reach out to him? Talk to him? The sound of the door opening drew your attention away from the clone and back to your business. 

-*-

The second week came and went in a haze for Crosshair. He barely left his room and barely ate the food you brought up. He could hear his brothers in the hall talking to you on different occasions and the concern you felt for him was clear. It was only when he was sure everyone was out of the hall did he ever open his door for food. He wanted to leave his room, he did, but it was like there was a weight on him preventing him from doing so. It chained him to his room and anchored him to that space alone. Every time he attempted to leave his chest would get heavy.

One night at the beginning of the third week, when the moon was full and illuminated the island in a gentle glow, he found himself compelled to leave his room. He wasn’t sure why he was compelled to leave, he just was. He crept down the stairs quietly in hopes of not waking his slumbering brothers or you. To his surprise, you were already awake and sitting on the patio in one of the chairs overlooking your garden with the door wide open. A gentle breeze blew through the room carrying the scent of lavender and roses in the air. Crosshair inhaled slowly and let out a quiet sigh. He’d been stuck in his room for so long that he’d forgotten the smell of fresh sea air. It reminded him of Kamino. He, surprisingly, missed the water planet. 

He stepped towards the patio door and the floor creaked beneath his feet. You turned in your seat and smiled softly at him. 

“Crosshair, I was wondering when I’d see you again.” Your voice was gentle like the ocean air. You didn’t stand from your seat but simply looked over your shoulder at the mysterious clone. You’d briefly seen his hands poke out from his room to grab a tray of food before the door would shut again. You could hear him moving around from the first floor and you’d heard him cry out a few nights prior. 

He didn’t say anything to you as he stepped out onto the patio. A cup of tea sat on the table in front of you with steam swirling from it. You motioned to a chair near you and after a moment of hesitation, he sat down. 

“Here.” You whispered. “I’ll go make another cup. Don’t worry, I haven’t drunk from it.” Carefully the cup was passed to him before you stood and went back inside.

Crosshair hadn’t expected you to give him your drink. He hadn’t expected anything from you, he didn’t deserve anything from you. Not after the things he’d done. His hand wrapped around the cup and the warmth from the drink spread across his body making goose flesh scatter his skin. Behind him, the sound of you in the kitchen could be heard. The clink of another mug being placed on the counter, a cabinet opening, the clang of the kettle on the stove, and the sound of a metal spoon stirring in the mug. It all rang out in the silent night air to his ears. After a few minutes, you returned with a happy hum and sat back in your chair. 

A silence hung in the air between the two of you as you both stared at the night sky. Every few moments Crosshair would shift in his seat or take a drink of the tea. A cool night breeze danced through the air and against your skin making you shiver. “Should have brought my sweater.” You joked lightly before moving to go inside and grab a blanket. Instead, Crosshair stood and motioned for you to stay in your seat. He moved inside quickly and after a minute returned with a blanket. “Oh, thank you, Crosshair.” You spoke gently as he laid the blanket around your shoulders. You watched as he returned to his seat and the two of you fell back into your silence. 

An hour later you finally let out a long sigh and broke the silence. “I should get inside and get some sleep before I have to make breakfast.” 

Oh, you were leaving already? He was kind of enjoying this quiet time. He watched as you stood from the table with the blanket still around your shoulders. Words seemed to fail him as you stood in the glow of the moonlight in your pajama shorts and tank top. 

Grabbing your empty mug of tea, you began to head inside before stopping in the doorway. “You should take a walk down to the docks. There’s a sea wall you can sit on and just breathe in the crisp sea air. It might help you clear your mind.” 

“How do you know I need to clear my mind?” Crosshair stood from his chair. 

“My apartment is below your room.” You pointed over your shoulder. “I hear you moving around at night. You have trouble sleeping, don’t you?” Reaching up, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you tried to fight off the chill of the night air. 

“I” he hesitated. You were right, he was having trouble sleeping. 

“Take the walk, Crosshair. When you get back you can take a long shower and I’ll have breakfast ready for you.” You passed him a sweet smile before turning and heading inside, not giving him the chance to argue. A plan was forming in your head.

He watched you place the blanket on the back of the couch in the living area before disappearing into the apartment behind the door marked ‘Private’. A shower and breakfast? Did he smell that bad? He gave himself a sniff and frowned, it had been a few days since he’d last showered. 

Crosshair looked out at the vast star-filled sky and chewed his lip. Perhaps you were right, a long walk in fresh air might do him some good. No doubt the shower later would help as well. Grabbing the same blanket you had used, he wrapped it around his shoulders and headed out the front door. 

You stood watching from your balcony as the quiet clone began the descent down the island. It would take him some time to reach the docks at the speed he was walking. But perhaps that was a good thing. You’d never gone through a big tragedy like they had. Your life on Pabu had been perfect. Two parents who loved you fiercely, grandparents who adored you, and an inn that, before the empire had taken over, had been doing great. 

Your mother had passed from sickness a few years prior and your father soon after from, what the doctor had called a broken heart. It was sad and you’d cried your eyes out for nearly a month. But you knew people like Stitches had had it harder. Your grandparents took over raising you but then they passed the year before, your grandmother in spring and your grandfather in winter, and thus you were on your own.  It wasn’t some tragic tale of loss and heartbreak. You hadn’t been traumatized from any of it. In short, your life had indeed been close to perfect as perfect could be. The only bad times you could think of where you truly were upset would have to be the bad breakups you’d had over the years. That was to be expected when you dated customers. 

With a sigh, you thought about your family. You’d been sad when your parents passed, that much was true. But your grandmother had always told you to take walks and let the sea air calm you. It worked too. Perhaps it was one of those old wives' tales mixed with a placebo effect. But you believed in it and hopefully so would Crosshair. If your grandmother was still alive she would have dragged him from his room on the third day and forced him to eat a big bowl of her homemade lentil soup. He probably would have outwardly hated it, but it would have warmed his soul and no doubt it would have helped him. You’d once tried to make the soup in hopes of honoring your grandmother, but it didn’t taste anything close to hers. You hadn’t tried to make it since then. Maybe you should, perhaps the boys would like it. 

They were still your only customers, more like tenants at this point. You’d had conversations with both Echo and Hunter since they’d first arrived and you’d seen Stitches, Wrecker, and Omega just a few days ago when you went to pick up the clothes the seamstress had made for the boys. One night, a few days ago, Hunter and Echo explained what happened. Your heart hurt for them. To lose a brother in such a terrible way was one of the worst things imaginable. You’d offered your condolences to them and they’d taken it. Now you understood why Omega and Wrecker were having nightmares and why Stitches was so worried. You’d asked if anyone had told Chai what had happened and both men shook their heads.

“I offered to explain it all to her. But she said she wasn’t ready.” Hunter had told you solemnly. 

You wondered if the girl would ever be ready. With a long hum, you pushed off the balcony wall and stepped back into your room. The worry for your friends ran through your head as you laid back into your much too-large bed. Perhaps you’d visit Chai in the morning? Check on her before checking on Stitches and her little family. Whatever you’d do, Crosshair would come first. You fell back to sleep thinking about your plan. 

-*-

The walk down Pabu was surprisingly nice. The cool night air mixed with the sea air and blew through his skin in a way that had him closing his eyes and sighing. Memories of Kamino danced through his mind. Sure they were ignored and on the receiving end of insults from the regs but outside of that, it was his home. The place he grew up with his vod at.the place where he’d made the stupid decision to wait for the empire instead of going with the batch. Whether the memories were good or bad, that ocean scent would always transport him home. 

He followed the cobblestone path to the base of the hill where a waist-high seawall sat. A figure shifted on the wall making him realize he wasn’t alone. Instinctually, he moved to grab his blaster but realized he didn’t have it. He moved to turn and head away from the potential danger when he kicked a loose pebble across the cobblestones. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet night air. The figure shifted and turned to face him. It was her, Techs girl.

“Oh. I thought I was the only one up this late.” Chai tried to force a smile but found herself still unable to. She’d last smiled before they returned. Back when she felt like everything would be okay and Tech would come back to her. Now it felt like she’d never smile again. She looked at his brother with tired eyes and found the same exhaustion looking back at her. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“No” What was he supposed to say to her at this moment? It was clear she wanted to be alone. He’d heard Hunter talking to Doll and Echo about how the woman didn’t want to know about what happened to Tech. Seeing as he was the cause of his death, Crosshair was the last person who should be talking to her. “I’ll leave.” 

“No!” Chai nearly jumped off the sea wall. Perhaps having the company of one of his brothers would help calm her. “Please. Join me?” She patted the space next to her. 

Crosshair swallowed as your words rang out to him. The sea air would help, hopefully you were right. He nodded to Chai before moving to the wall and boosting himself onto the stone wall. His feet dangled next to hers and he wished he hadn’t worn shoes so he could feel the spray on his ankles. How they were sitting reminded him once more of Kamino and how he and his brothers would sit and watch the Aiwha fly around. 

“We haven’t been introduced. I’m Chai.” She released the datapad in her lap with one hand and offered it to the clone before her. A burn scar could be seen on the right side of his head and she wondered how he got it. Tech had never mentioned a burn scar. 

“Crosshair.” He shook her hand gently before looking down at the familiar datapad. “You look yet?” The question left him before he could stop it. 

She shook her head solemnly. “I tried a few days ago. But it’s locked and I don’t know the code. I tried his clone number but it didn’t work.” Talking to him was almost refreshing in a way. This was the most she’d spoken in days. 

“Check his goggles. He wrote the code in one of the rims.” Just in case he forgot it for whatever reason. Crosshair was the only one to know of its location. It was his job as Tech's twin to know these things. Twin, he wasn’t a twin anymore. Now it was just him. Tech understood him deeper than anyone else had and now he was on his own. 

“Oh.” She looked down at the device in her lap and sighed softly. She’d look for the code when she went home. Maybe today would be the day she’d look through it. “Thanks” 

Crosshair nodded before looking back out over the ocean. It was nice here, just the sound of the ocean waves hitting the rocks below and their breathing. Maybe a sigh here or there but that was it. 

Chai had to admit, she appreciated the silence that fell. For the past two weeks, people had been offering their condolences and sympathy for her loss. Her brothers and father had tried to talk her through the grief and both Hunter and Echo had tried to explain what had happened. But so far Crosshair was keen to not say anything about the topic. She liked that. For these last two weeks, she’d felt so alone. But having someone just sit by her who wasn’t trying to talk about anything seemed to be just what she needed. 

After an hour, Chai turned and hopped off the wall. “I should go back and get ready to open the shop.” A shop owner's job didn’t stop, not even for the death of one they cared for. Crosshair nodded to her, not moving to stand. “I come down most nights. Feel free to join me.” 

He looked over his shoulder at the girl before nodding once more. He had barely any words to say to her. His mind hadn’t stopped running over what to say to her or discuss with her. But according to Shaak Ti, sometimes saying nothing was just as important as saying something. She offered for him to join her another night. Would she hold that offer once she learned what he’d done? That he was why Tech was gone? “Thanks.” Was all he could think to say to her. 

-*-

You woke up to the sound of Crosshair's door shutting and his feet crossing the room. Perfect. You checked your clock and found it had been three hours since he’d left. Hopefully that time away did him some good. Humming softly, you pulled yourself from the warmth of your bed and back into the cool air blowing in off the ocean. You’d left your balcony doors open and that cool crisp air had filled your room. Pulling on your long robe, you stepped out of your room and over to the main kitchen. Stitches would be dropping off breakfast and lunch for them soon enough, but you wanted to do something more traditional and hearty for him. Something to truly welcome him to the island. 

While two eggs were boiling in salted water, you pulled fresh yogurt from the conservator that had been delivered the day before from one of Pabu’s sister islands. A merchant fleet of ships traveled to all the islands on your planet, even Pabu had two ships that were part of the fleet. 

You poured the yogurt into a small dish and added a drizzle of honey over the top of it with a few figs on the side before moving over to start the gliko caf. Maybe he wouldn’t like it so sweet but you loved it that way and so he’d have to at least try it. You poured the sugar and cream into the cups and waited for the delicious dark liquid to pour from the brewer. Now you just needed the kalathaki, prozimi, and the amygdalota. You had the feta, gruyere, and nuts already. 

As if on cue, there was a knock on your front door. After a moment the door opened and Chai’s older brother, Vino, came in with your daily order of sweets and bread. He was always kind enough to swing by the bakers and pick up your bread order. Chai had let it slip that he had a crush on you and while you found it sweet, you didn’t feel the same way back. He was your best friend's brother after all. 

“Thank you, Vino.” You stepped around the island in your kitchen and over to the basket in his hands. 

“Anytime, Doll.” He smiled at you the same way he always did. With a twinkle in his eye and a smile that reached his bright blues. “Your orders have been bigger since the clones arrived.” 

You took the basket from him and shrugged. “They eat a lot. Well, two of them do. Plus I split with Stitches.” The smell of the prozimi wafted through the air and made you sigh. The sourdough always smelled amazing. “How is she?” You hadn’t heard from your dear friend in a few days and you worried. 

Vino shrugged. “Some days are better than others. She’s been going out at night when she thinks we’re all asleep. Goes to the seawall and just stares.” 

“They had a lot of moments there.” The seawall, huh? You wondered if Crosshair had run into her a few hours ago. “I’ll swing by and talk to her later today. That okay?” 

“You know you’re always welcome at our place, Doll.” You were like family after all. He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “Maybe talking to you will pull her out of her funk. I haven’t seen her this bad, ever. Not even when mom passed.” 

You nodded to him while patting his hand. “She’ll be okay. Just give her some time. We all grieve in our own way.” 

Vino stepped closer to you and looked down into your eyes. “Are you grieving as well?” He raised his hand to stroke your chin but heard someone clear their throat behind him. Damn. One of these days he’d get the courage to ask you out. 

“Stitches!” Thank the stars she was here. Things were getting awkward with Vino. 

“Hey, Good morning.” She winked at you as you stepped around Vino and back to your island. She walked across the room and elbowed her friend's brother. “Vino. Don’t you have a shop to open?”

“Right.” He nodded to you sweetly. “See ya later? I’ll let Chai know you’re coming over.” 

“Sounds good. Thanks again, Vino.” You watched as the man waved bye to Stirches before leaving. You shook your head as you stepped around the counter and back to the slowly forming tray of food. Already you could tell that Stitches was going to tease you. The basket of goodies was placed on the counter while you checked on the caf. It was almost ready. Just five more minutes. You could see into the small crate that Stitches carried. Six containers of food sat neatly within. “Hope this wasn’t too early for ya.”  You tried to avoid the teasing that was no doubt coming. 

“I was heading to the school to get Omega enrolled so I’ve got some time.” She walked over and placed the crate down while smirking. “So you and Vino, huh?” 

“Don’t start.” You hated how awkward things were between you two now that you knew he liked you. “Wish Chai had never said anything.” The goodies of your basket were pulled out and placed on the counter. The kalathaki looked amazing with its golden crispy crust. You pulled out a knife and cut two pieces from the cheese-based pie. A few more slices were cut and placed into your fridge before you packaged the rest up for Stitches. 

“I think it’s cute.” She watched as you sliced a few pieces of the sourdough bread and placed it on the tray. Now who were you making all of this for? “He’s like a little puppy with the way he does things for you.” She reached over and plucked an amygdalota from the basket. The almond cookie danced on her tongue as she took a bite. “Ugh, Chai definitely made these.” They tasted just right. Nice and firm on the outside but chewy on the inside with just the right balance of salt and sugar. 

She moved over to your conservator and pulled out a few pieces of mixed fruit as well as some olives. “Wow, good haul from the merchant ships. Was Dion working?” Out of all the merchants, Dion liked you the most, and thus he always gave you a great deal. She placed the items on the counter next to you. 

“Yeah.” Once again there was another man who crushed on you. None of them fit that fairytale romance you wanted though. You wanted someone who would listen to what you had to say and understand it. Someone who looked at you like you were everything to them. Someone who you could care for but would care for you as well. That perfect relationship like yours, and so many others, parents had. 

“So which one of them is it? Who's the lucky clone getting this amazing-looking tray of food.” She watched as you placed a few of the almond cookies onto the tray before turning and grabbing the eggs from the water. Stitches was quick to help you by grabbing a bowl and filling it with ice and water.

 You deposited the eggs into the water to quickly cool as you finished filling the tray. All you needed was the eggs and then the caf. Already your inn was smelling amazing and no doubt the other clones would be up soon. You tried to ignore her question but as usual, your friend wouldn’t let up. 

“Can’t be Hunter, he’s too rugged for your taste. Remember Ienzo? You hated his ruggedness.” She grabbed an olive and popped it into her mouth. The salty brine burst in her mouth. She hadn't eaten before she left and it was catching up to her. 

“Ienzo’s beard was too long and had stuff stuck in it. Not to mention his hair was too greasy. I don’t think I’d call that rugged. I’d just call that gross. From what I’ve seen, Hunter is far from that.” But still far from your type. You grabbed the caf from the brewer and poured it into the two cups. It took a lot of willpower not to down your cup right away. 

Stitches shook her head as you rolled your eyes. “Ok, well it can’t be Echo. He’s far too pale for you. Remember Ansem?” 

You placed a few pieces of cutlery on the tray before looking around for some napkins. “Ansem couldn’t even step outside without burning. I can’t be with someone like that while living on a sunny island. From what I understand, Echo is recovering from some serious shit and hasn’t regained his color. Just as Crosshair is.” 

As soon as you said his name she knew she’d got you. “So it is Crosshair.” She giggled excitedly. “You and Crosshair. I can’t believe it!” Wrecker had folded her very little about Crosshair. Just that he was Tech’s twin and had been the one to make the call that sent them on their rescue mission. 

“Will you keep your voice down? Honestly.” You shooed her with one of the cloth napkins you’d found. “It’s not like that. He’s struggling with something. I just want to try and help him through whatever it is.” Having someone moping around your inn wouldn’t look good for you. Plus he was too cute to be sad. 

Oh. Oh no. You found him cute. 

No, you couldn’t fall for yet another customer. Not after the last one. You’d made a deal with yourself that you wouldn’t date another customer. You were just helping him because you felt bad for him. Yeah. That was all. Not because he had soft eyes filled with emotion or a cute butt. No, it was just because he was sad and you were trying to be nice. 

“Doll? Doooollll.” Stitches waved her hand in your face to draw your attention once more. 

“Huh? What?” You hadn’t realized you’d zoned out. You waved her hand away from your face before walking over to the bowl of ice and pulling out the two eggs. 

“I asked if you’d be making him this special meal every day?” If you were then she could cut back on one of the meals she made every day.

Sighing, you shook your head. “Just today. I’m trying to make him feel comfortable here. It can be hard going from one planet to another, especially when dealing with the death of a brother.” Or so you’d heard from passing customers. Back before the Empire took over you had all manner of customers come through your inn. Families, vendors, bounty hunters, and lone wolves. You’d seen it all and heard it all. You may not have experienced hardship like those around you, but you understood it enough. 

“Right.” She clapped her hands together and hugged you quickly. “Well I expect to be the first to know when that fails and you end up married to him.” 

“Oh, my gods. Why are you this way?” You hugged her before shooing her once more. “I can guarantee it won’t come to that.” 

“Whatever you say, Doll. Whatever you say.” She gathered her portion of the baked goods and bread into the basket. She took a moment to think about something before speaking in a more serious tone. “Don’t force him, or Chai, to talk about what’s wrong. You know as much as I do that’ll just push them deeper into themselves.” 

Your lips formed a thin line as you nodded. “I know.” There was a moment of hesitation between you two before you continued. “How are they? Wrecker and Omega?” 

She hummed in thought for a moment. “It’s day by day. They both still have nightmares and Omega barely eats right now. But I think getting her enrolled in school and back around other kids will help.” Stitches checked the basket for everything to distract herself from worrying too much about her little family. “Give Chai my love?” 

“I will.” You nodded while resting your hands on the cool countertop. “I’ll stop by after I talk to her. ‘Kay?” Your friend nodded before turning and leaving your inn. Only once the door was shut did you move around the counter and begin to pull the containers of food from the crate. You’d quickly get these sorted before going up to Crosshair’s room. Hopefully, he was done showering by now. 

-*-

Crosshair sat on the edge of his bed in the darkness of his room. He’d showered after his walk and reluctantly put a fresh pair of pajama pants on instead of simply laying on his bed in a towel. He wasn’t back to normal, it would take a lot longer for that to happen, but he did feel a little bit better. 

A soft knock on his door drew his attention. Standing, he walked over to the door and pressed his ear against the cool metal. 

“Crosshair? I brought you a little something to eat.” You spoke just barely loud enough for him to hear. Not wanting to wake his brothers up or draw attention to you two. 

He paused for a moment before opening the door with the intent of taking the tray of food from you and then going back into his room alone. It seemed you had other plans though. With a sweet smile at him that shook his entire body, you stepped past him and into the room he’d holed himself up in for two weeks. He barely caught sight of the tray but it was far from ‘a little’. From what he’d seen it was a lot, the tray was full. “Umm,” What was he supposed to say? Get out? What are you doing? You look nice in that dress. 

Wait. 

You’d worn a sundress countless times before, it seemed to be your preferred outfit, so why did he think you looked nice this time? He stood in the doorway watching you closely as you moved to the desk and placed down the tray. You stepped over to the window and in one swift movement the curtains were pulled back and the morning light flooded his room. The dress you wore was light blue with white stripes running down it multiple times. You had a pair of heeled strap sandals on and your hair was down. You looked just like you did nearly every time he’d caught a glimpse of you. So what was it about this time that made him feel this way?

“Don’t worry, I won’t be charging you extra for the meal.” You smirked at him before turning around and staring at his window. It was a little musky in here. With a cute humph, you unlatched the window and pushed it open happily. The crisp morning air blew into the room instantly and fluttered your dress making you laugh lightly. 

Crosshair practically swooned at your smirk. When the wind blew your dress around his knees nearly gave out. You were the most stunning creature he’d ever seen. “Huh?” Wow, he was not great at speaking to you. 

You fought the little chuckle that bubbled its way into your throat. “How was your walk? Did you make it to the seawall?” You’d been fussing with the tray of food until you heard the door shut. Good, he wasn’t running for the hills. Smiling, you looked up at him and watched as he walked across the room to you. It was only then that you noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Your cheeks flushed at the sight of his surprisingly toned body. Hunter had told you that he’d been a prisoner for a while but that didn’t seem to have affected him too much. 

The morning sun enveloped you like a halo of orange and yellow as he stepped across the room. Seeing you like this, looking so beautiful, it seemed to loosen his tongue. “I did. It was nice.” He looked down at the tray of food and felt his mouth water. Everything looked so good, even the eggs. 

Picking up one of the mugs of caf, you passed it to him. “Did you see Chai? Her brother told me this morning that she’s been going out at night.” 

“I did.” Her brother? He didn’t realize she had a brother. There wasn’t much he knew about the girl, only that Tech was interested in her. This morning? It had only been a few hours since he’d seen the girl. Was it normal for men to come to your inn so early in the morning? Why did that make his heart twinge? “Didn’t say much.” He took the caf from you and waited for you to pick up the one intended for you. 

“Did she seem okay?” Your hand hesitated over your cup. 

You really cared for the girl, didn’t you? “She was quiet. Told her the code for the datapad.” 

Picking up the caf, you chewed your lip. “So she still hasn’t looked at it?” Echo had explained that there was something on the device that Tech had wanted her to see. What it was no one seemed to know. It was all just part of the contingency the clone seemed to have had. 

“Suppose not.” If she couldn’t even unlock the device then there was no way that she’d seen what was inside. 

You couldn’t let this get you down, not when you’d come in here with a plan. The cup in your hands was held out to him in cheers that he seemed reluctant to return. Never dropping the smile that you forced back onto your face, you took a sip of your caf and hummed happily. It was just the perfect level of sweetness with a small bite of bitterness on the tail end. “I’ll check on her later.”  You watched Crosshair carefully as he downed the entire cup of caf. He made a face that let you know that he didn’t care for the sweetness of the drink. It made you chuckle. “Sorry, wasn’t sure how you liked your caf.” 

You were so happy and peppy. Usually, that would annoy him but on you, it looked great. It almost made him want to smile and forget about everything. Almost. “It’s fine.” 

Well, it was the thought that counted. “Well, I think you should try the kalathaki next. It’s from the baker, they’re the best on the island when it comes to the pies.” You picked up the plate holding a slice of the cheese pie, it smelled delicious. 

Crosshair looked down at the tray of food and felt his stomach ache. He’d barely been eating these last couple of days. It all looked good too, you truly knew how to make a meal. But his mind and body pulled away from the food. He couldn’t bring himself to eat. Shaking his head, he lived to step away but heard you clear your throat suddenly. 

You watched the way he turned from you. Oh, he thought he’d get out of eating? Clearing your throat, you picked up a fork and cut a small piece of the pie. “Try a bite?” You gave him the best puppy dog eyes that you could muster. 

“I” he let out a long sigh. How could he say no when you looked at him like that? You’d gone through all the work of making the food for him and bringing it up to his room. The least he could do was try a small bite. Crosshair allowed you to slide a small piece into his mouth, the smile on your face pure as he did so. 

It tasted amazing. Better than anything he’d had before. The flavor burst in his mouth making his tongue sing. His stomach practically growled at the introduction of delicious food. He’d only been snacking on small pieces of bread or the rolls that came with the meals she dropped off. This was on an entirely different level. Before he could process the first bite you were already cutting another piece. He should step in and say he was able to feed himself but you seemed so pleased with yourself and honestly? He was tired. 

You let him chew the piece in his mouth while you set the plate down. Moving behind him, you grabbed the chair and placed it behind him. Without a word, he sat down and stared at you. You could see how tired he was, but that was okay. You’d take care of him. 

-*-

Thirty minutes later he took his final bite of the food. It had been a slow process for you to feed him, he didn’t seem too excited to eat. It wasn’t a lot that he’d eaten, small amounts here and there from the different items on the tray, but he’d at least eaten something. 

You stood from the spot on the floor that you’d slid into. It had been silent in the room since you’d started feeding him. You didn’t mind too much. Yes, it was odd at first but you didn’t want to press him too much. You were lucky that he’d let you in and do this much for him, pressing your luck could prove futile. He could easily lock back up and not let you in again. 

“Come on.” You whispered while extending your hand to him. 

The last thirty minutes had flown by in a blur as you fed him. He’d felt like a child at first but slowly he’d felt something else. Gratefulness? Lust? Desire? Someone as beautiful as you had been hand-feeding him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve someone like you taking care of someone like him. Every moment and bite was savored as you worked around the tray. All of it had been delicious, but the pie had by far been his favorite. 

You stood and offered your hand to him and without hesitation he took it. He was easily pulled onto his feet and into your body. “S-sorry.” Came from him as he realized how close to you he was, you smelled amazing. 

Oh. He was warm. Your hand rested against his muscular chest for a moment as you repositioned him. You intended to lead him to his bed so he could get some sleep but you realized it was messy and deeply slept in. No doubt it smelled as bad as it looked. “Follow me?” 

Follow you? Follow you where? He’d trusted you so far. He continued to hold your hand as you led him from his room. “Where are we go-“ 

“We’re going on an adventure.” You squeezed his hand gently while leading him down the hall and the stairs.

 In the dining area at the table sat Hunter and Echo. Both men were distracted in a discussion over information Rex had found on some Republic medical staff prisoners. The stairs creaked under the dual weight of you and Crosshair as the two of you walked down them. Hunter looked over to say good morning to you and was surprised to see your hand wrapped around his vods. You paid them both little mind as you rounded the stairs and stepped through the door marked private. Hunter tried to wave down Crosshair and ask what the hell was going on but the man seemed just as lost as he was. The door shut with a gentle swoosh leaving Hunter and Echo to ponder what the hell they’d just seen. 

Crosshair looked around your small apartment in surprise. He was in your private space right now. The space that no one was supposed to see besides your friends. What did that make him? He’d only known you for two weeks and you’d barely spoken to each other. You walked into a side room and pulled him in behind you. The bed made it clear that this was your bedroom. It smelled of flowers and fresh linen while your bed looked incredibly comfortable and inviting. 

Finally, you stopped and motioned to your bed. “Please, get comfortable.”

“But it-“ you raised your hand to him quickly and shook your head. 

“Your bedding needs to be washed. None of the other rooms are set up for guests right now. So the obvious choice was for you to use mine.”  Stepping over to the bed, you pulled down the white floral print duvet and matching sheet before motioning for him to get in. “Don’t worry, I won’t watch you sleep.” 

“I didn’t think you would.” Maybe he did a little but you’d never know that. He walked over to your bed and carefully sat down on it. It was so soft and comfortable. 

“Oh, he’s snappy.” You winked at him while walking back around the bed and towards the door. “I like that.” You stood in the doorway and watched as he laid down and got comfortable. “Refresher is over to the left and there’s a pitcher of fresh water on the bedside table. Get some rest and I’ll see you at dinner.” 

“Why are you doing all of this?” He asked as he rested his head against your soft pillow. Now this was a nice bed. 

“Because we all need a little help sometimes.” Whether it was getting out of a rut or seeing the bad that others already could see. “Sweet dreams, Crosshair.” 

He turned his head and watched as you stepped out of the room. “Thanks” came as a whisper that only he could hear. 

Crosshair lay in the bed for what felt like an eternity, sleep eluding him for the time being. His mind raced over the events of the morning so far. First, he’d sat with you outside, then he’d met Chai and sat with her, you’d actually fed him and now he was lying in your very large bed. How had he gone from the sad darkness of his room to the light happiness of yours? He looked around from the warmth of the bed and picked up on a few things. You kept a datapad that was designed for reading next to your bed as well as a box of tissues. Your balcony led to the garden where the smell of flowers was coming from and your closet could be seen from the bed. There was, in fact, a large amount of sundresses within. There were also a few trophies on your wall surrounding a vanity with a large mirror that was directly across from the bed. It was a nice room. The scent of your perfume hung on the pillow pulling him from his thoughts and finally, after countless sleepless nights and an hour of laying in your bed, he fell into a deep sleep.

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[mourningstarrz]

The Second Son

Summary: After the death of Richie Kirsch, his family begins to formulate a plan of revenge. But what about the younger, forgetten, second born son?

words: 1.6k

TAGS/WARNINGS: canon violence, referenced major character death (eh Richie's not a major character but still), minor character death, mentioned blood, referenced vomiting, murder, ethan has daddy issues and now mommy issues WOO, manipulation, angst, implied abuse, neglect, emotional / psychological abuse, can you tell i’m from ao3…

a/n: i’m really proud of this and added little things bc my autistic brain thought they’d be cool

INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY !!

“Don’t you hear yourself Wayne?! You’re fucking crazy!”

“I’m crazy for wanting to make the girl pay for what she did?! Taking away our boy like that?!”

“Richie was a murderer, Wayne!”

“So you defend her?”

Ethan turned his music up. His headphones muffling every other sound. The wall between his room and his parents argument too thin for his liking. Though the music acted like an escape, his scattered thoughts seemed to be so much more louder. Contrasting the emptiness of the room that once belonged to Richie.

All this for a son that flew too close to the sun? A son that was too in his head to realize not everything would bend to his will? Ethan’s fingertips lightly scratched at the desk - the thought of Richie in his head like the plague. He scoffed at first, but the furrow in his eyebrows smoothened. That was his brother. He should feel the pain that comes with losing a family member. An older brother specifically. But he just can’t find it in himself.

He lightly slams his fist against the desk. Standing up and taking a last look in Richie’s room. Richie really took a liking for slasher films to another level…

As he walked out, he was met with the eyes of his father. A dark glaze over them. Ethan turned down the volume in his headphones and shuffled them off.

“Ethan…you know…what Richie meant to us. Right?” Bailey huffed, a hand landing on Ethan’s shoulder, slightly gripping it. “How much his murder has brought pain to our family?”

Ethan cleared his throat, nodding. “Are you- are you okay, dad?” His fathers demeanor intimidated him, more than usual. 

He gestured for Ethan to follow him, leading him to Quinn’s room. Softly knocking before marching in. “Ethan, sit down with your sister”

As he sat down next to Quinn, he noticed her red eyes and smudged eyeliner. Looking back up to his father. “What’s going on?”

“You two are all I have left to trust…your bitch of a mother not feeling an ounce of the pain we feel.” Towering over the two, Bailey looked between them. “I say…we join together. As a family.” He lifted his hand and made a fist, “And avenge my son...”

“What’s your plan?” Quinn quickly spoke up.

Bailey smiled at them, “you know what they say…an eye for an eye…”

Ethan’s fingernail digged into his own arm, keeping a straight face. “A tooth for a tooth…” he finished.

“Exactly.” he pointed toward Ethan.

“So…you want to- ”

“Kill Sam.” Quinn finished. Fists curling up at her sides. 

Nodding, a sinister smile spread against Bailey’s face. “Now is the time to say, whether your with us…or against your brother.”

Quick to stand, Quinn frowned in determination. “It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

His sister and father now looked down at Ethan expectantly. He slowly stood up and nodded, a knot forming in his stomach. “For Richie.” He sealed in his decision, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes met his fathers cold and dark gaze, a chill going down his spine.

“Good” a sinister smile played at his lips. “We’ll talk more about it in the morning. But for Ethan, I have a special plan just for you.” 

Ethan nodded and followed his father out of Quinn’s room and to his own. The pit in his stomach growing with each step. The walk agonizingly slow. Feeling like an eternity. Ethan already had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever he had planned.

Bailey opened the door and walked in, “come, sit. Son.” he gestured toward Ethan’s bed. The name caught him off guard. He never heard his father call him son before. Hesitating, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, his father sitting next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You know…how much Richie meant to all of us…” Ethan’s heart sank, biting back his tongue. Bailey’s grip on his shoulder tightened a little, “long story short is…that I need you to kill your mother.”

Ethan’s eyes widened “What?!” he shoved his fathers hand away from his shoulders.

“It’s what she deserves!” Bailey yelled before taking a deep breath, “she believes that Richie did wrong. If she’s alive, she acts like a barrier for our plan.”

Tears filled Ethan, lip beginning to tremble. Bailey sighed and placed both hands on each of Ethan’s shoulders again, turning Ethan towards him. “I wanted to give you this step in the plan. As my second son,” Ethan felt a punch to his heart, tensing up as Bailey continued, “you need to step up into Richie’s place. You need to take your mother’s life”

Shaking his head, he furiously blinked. “I- I can’t. Dad- I can’t- ”

“You will. And you must.” His father’s grip on his shoulders tightened. “You’re the only son I have left. Carry Richie’s legacy.”

Ethan sat there, breath trembling while his thoughts scattered. Yearning to know what it was like to have his fathers approval. His love. Standing on the pedestal that Richie once stood in. Which also meant following in his dark path. A path he didn’t come back from.

“Please, Ethan. I need you to do this” Bailey’s voice taunted. Hand reaching and grabbing the boy’s chin, forcing Ethan to look at him. “C’mon, just say yes.”

“Okay…” He croaked, his hand reaching for his fathers wrist but stopping midway. “I’ll do it. I’ll…” Ethan’s voice caught in his throat. Not believing what he is to do now. The grip his father had on Ethan’s chin softening, his hand retreating to his lap.

Bailey offered a small smile, patting Ethan on the back and standing up. “Atta boy. Now,” he took out his phone to check the time. Looking back at Ethan’s figure, eyes looking straight ahead, face void of expression. “I want this done before midnight. Alright?”

Left alone with his thoughts, he sighed as soon as the door to his room closes. The walls seeming to close in on him. A ticking bomb playing in his head. A silent tear falling from his face as he lays down on his bed.

-

As the night falls, hearing his father and Quinn leave the house, dread seeps into Ethan’s veins. Agony lacing muscle holding the knife his father gave him. The same one Richie held before his demise.

Walking to his parents room almost felt like deja vu. Almost. Except this time, instead of holding a stuffed animal to wake his mom up from a nightmare a thunderstorm caused, Ethan carried a knife as he used the shadows the thunderstorm created to hide himself.

Reaching the room, lightning struck. Ethan stood beside the door, knowing his father left it open just for him. His heartbeat loud in his ears as he peeked through. Seeing his mothers sleeping figure on the bed. A thought flashing through his head; what if he didn’t do it? Surely his father would have a “word” with him when he’d see his mom alive and sleeping in the bed.

He looked at the clock opposite to the wall where the bed laid. Eleven o’five. Ethan crouched and creeped up to his mothers sleeping figure. Admiring her features. Seeing her calmness in her sleep. The way her lips softly rested on her face, resembling his. Ethan quickly noticed just how much the two had in common. Their lips, their hair…the lightning illuminating her features every now and then.

Fingers gripping the knife, he raised it high. Breathing quickening. Heart pounding. Ethan’s head began hurting as if he were being stabbed. 

“I’m sorry mom…” he whispered.

Plunging the knifer, he grabbed a nearby pillow to place over her face when her eyes flew open. Holding the pillow with one hand to her face as her body flailed. He used his free hand to continue his fathers plan, sobs poking through. Wanting her cries and pain to end quick.

Her screams mellowed out, and body flatlined. Seconds after, Ethan threw the knife across the room. Taking the pillow off his mom. Her once lively color drained. Eyes closed and lips stained in red. Laying solemnly.

“Mom…I’m so sorry mom…” Ethan cried, his head falling to her shoulder. Staining her blue shirt with his tears. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he chanted. Over and over again. Hands closing into fists and opening. He lifted his head, seeing her face facing the wall. Through broken sobs and gasps, Ethan carefully moved her head to face him. Grabbing the arm closest to him and forming her hand to cup his face. Making her thumb caress his cheekbone.

“I didn’t- didn’t wa-a-nt you to see-ee me…” Keeping one of his hands to hers on his face, he used his right one to push back the hairs on hers. “Please…for-forgive me…momma?…” his heart strings pulled. The pain in his chest spreading all over his body. Ethan laid his head against the bed, muffling his cries as he held her lifeless hand with the two of his.

“Momma…please…momma, I’m sorry.” 

The exhaustion catching up to him, Ethan stayed kneeled next to his dead mom’s bed. Tears slowing. Sobs quieting. His mind tried to process what he had just done. Longing for the comfort his mom would provide. The direction she’d give him.

Kneeled on the floor, he didn’t know how to continue. Lost on how to navigate his situation. Ethan’s thoughts stuck with his actions, replaying them over and over. Stomach churning and bile forming in his throat. With wobbly legs, he began to stand up to rush to the bathroom until his chest collided with his fathers.

“You did it.” Bailey flatly said. Ethan could only solemnly nod, his shaking hands delicately reaching up for Bailey in search of comfort. Only for Bailey to move past him to his moms body. “Come on, help me clean this up.”

Swallowing the acid, Ethan still faced the opposite direction. His fists clenching. “Yes dad…” he whispered. Void of the light he once held.

-

a/n: HIIII REBLONGS APPRECIATED !! this will be cross posted on my ao3 which is summertimewrites :)

if you noticed any patters and stuff it was probably 100% purposeful. ANY WUESTIONS PLEASE ASK anyways hope y’all liked it :)

[marshmallowprotection]

You’ve unlocked my special ability. I get to tell you about my Reverse AU that hardly gets talked about. I love your design interpretation for Seven! There is no right or wrong way to imagine a situation where the roles are reversed. If you’re more curious about mine, I’m delighted to share details with you about that! It’s not an AU I talk about a lot these days so it never hurts to share something for those that want to hear it.

Error 707 is the moniker for our titular lead in this reverse AU. However, in this circumstance, he isn’t given this title by the head of the agency. He is named for his very corrupted memory. He will never forget what was done to him and his twin. That’s why he has this name. It’s a full word. Error 707. Not Error and not 707. Error 707. He named himself. Much like how Unknown dons the name he uses, it was a personal choice.

Unknown, in canon, wanted no name. He leaves it blank. Call him nothing. He doesn’t want to be anything. He wants revenge for the pure fact that he had to become nothing. So, this is for the same reason. Error 707 refuses to forget the past and what happened. His circumstance isn’t the same as the one that our boy Saeran went through. He wasn’t stolen in the night and manipulated over time. He went into Mint Eye with V with consent.

V in this situation has lost his mind. His wish to save everything and everyone by force. Think of how he’s willing to do anything to save his loved ones. Imagine it to an extent where it’s corrupted. It’s already self-destructive but now he’s trying to pull everyone in this pit with him. He can’t have people abandon him like his father did to his mother if he saves them and they’re indebted to him. He turns himself into the very idea of what a Savior is.

He saves you and now you owe him all you have. This corruption is paired with the fact that people trust him. He’s a rich man who smiles, knows about the arts and wants to support you. People turn to him and see someone who believes in your passion. It’s hard to tell him no. This is why he and Rika break up. He wants to save her his way, and somehow, some way, she realizes that this isn’t the kind of relationship she wants. She idolizes and wants to be him.

She doesn’t love him. She loves the idea of being him. It’s not healthy.

She finds a better therapist and tries to better herself. V doesn’t appreciate that because she finds herself. She starts opening up to others and trying to let go of her mask... and V... well... he thinks saving Rika means he needs to snuff out her demons and bathe them in obsession. She is his muse. She needs to stay herself... she can’t change... neither can he. It’s not okay for her and it’s not okay for him. They both need help.

They fight and Rika realizes she needs to leave before he does something that’s unspeakable.

All the while that’s going on between Rika and V, the two of them have already saved the twins. Both of them. There’s no agency here. Rika and V pulled the boys out of there when Mother Choi was horribly drunk one evening and V had her sent somewhere ‘safe’ to get ‘help’, while Rika and V took the twins in to be sure they were safe. They were raising the boys happily for two years without a lot of trouble. The boys turned 15 when all hell broke loose.

Unbeknownst to Rika, V was already in the process of starting to build Mint Eye by the time a year had passed with the twins. He decided he needed to build a kingdom to keep his family safe and close to him. By that point, he had Jumin on his side, slowly but surely... he just needed to say the right thing. His friend never did doubt him.

“I want to keep them safe, Jumin. I don’t want to lose them like I lost my mother.” can easily become “Of course, V. I will do whatever it takes to save our family. I don’t want anyone lost.” That was ankle deep already. Those two were already started... but the Savior status... the cult religion... that comes later on. It started as something that was going to be a safe house... and it grew from there.

How does he sway the rest of the RFA if there’s no RFA?

Easy. Rika already visits Zen a lot. He loves seeing her and V looks after him a lot. He has a friendship with the two of them since they always come to his show that’s running, and because V chased him down after a show one night when he was drinking and driving. Jaehee already works for Jumin because V is the one who found her application in the first place. Jaehee has to follow him... but she’s got faith in V, too. He’s polite and always treats her well.

V gets into their heads.

What about Yoosung, you say?

Oh, that’s the fun part. I’ll get to that in a second. First, you need to know how he gets Saeyoung. So, after V reveals his plan to save everyone, Rika says that he has lost his mind. She wants to leave. She’ll take the boys and leave. He says it isn’t possible. She can try, but how can a girl without money and status like he or Jumin? How can she save them from the Prime Minister? How will she hide the boys? How is she no different than Mother Choi? They’ll just be dirt poor again... no hope. No salvation. No light. No more sun.

So, Rika makes a gain plan to leave and says nothing. She thinks V assumes that they’ll be moving with him and she’s given up. She hasn’t. V had a plan in case for that. He knew she’d fight it. So, what has he been doing? Oh, he’s out here giving Saeyoung notes to study. He’s helping training him to hack and code so they can “fight” his father better in the future. He’s been doing this without her knowing... or even Saeran. “You’re the strong one, Saeyoung. We don’t need to worry Rika or Saeran.”

So, one evening, V surprises the young Saeyoung with a trip to a place in the mountains where he can work remotely. It’s their new home to be. It has a lot in there that’s perfect to work with. Saeyoung is excited... it plays out well as he’s toying with the network... until later that evening. All is fine and well until V is in the room with him, he looks pained and rushed, and he shows Saeyoung a very crisp video of Rika leaving the house with Saeran. Not to go to a store.

They’ve got bags. He informs Saeyoung that Rika ran away with his brother... abandoned him to take her “favorite son” because she’s lost control of herself.

(In actuality, Rika saw an opening and took Saeran out. She was going to come back for Saeyoung. She knew that V made it hard to get to him alone so she had less to fear.)

Saeyoung wants to hunt her down but V tells him that they can. Together. He wants to save Saeran, too. Rika can be stopped but they need to work together to do it. They have to do this quietly to avoid Saejoong... and oh, wouldn’t you know it... V and Jumin have built a team for this... new members of Mint Eye... not just the nameless believers that are coming... but people who we know to be the former RFA. Zen... Jaehee... V... Jumin...

That’s how Error 707 is eventually born.

Through his anger, the elixir that V promises will help his night terrors, and the despair he feels.

Whereas, Rika has to go into hiding with Saeran to keep him safe. She can’t go near Yoosung. V knows him. She flees using the contact she once had with this man that came to the exhibition she met V at... a contact that leads her to speak to Vanderwood. An agent who wants nothing to do with this. She doesn’t want to sell out Saeran. But, she has secrets to sell about the rich world she was in with V and Jumin. As long as she gives those to Vanderwood to sell to his agency, it is okay. She’s got money to take care of them.

Vanderwood also trains Saeran in hacking, since the kid begged... knowing that he had to learn something. He isn’t strong. But, he wants to study hard to help his brother get away from their adoptive father... the stress of everything that he went through causes a deep fracture that already existed since childhood. Ray reveals himself to Rika. He’s not Saeran...  he’s the terrified part of him that is doing so much to protect him but he’s... soft... he’s not... good enough. But, he doesn’t want Saeran to become bitter and very angry... even though it’s already started.

So, that’s happening over there.

Now, the answer for Yoosung is simple. V takes him the second he knows that Rika stops speaking to him. He manipulates that situation and makes him think that Rika abandoned him, too. That’s how he’s pulled into Mint Eye. Not to hurt his cousin, but to track her down and demand answers... why did she leave him behind?

reverse au? mint eye au? seven has been on my mind nonstop ever since i read @marshmallowprotection ‘s little blurb about him so here’s some of the brainrot !!! (srsly check out their excerpt about it, it’s what sparked my interest in making my blorbo evil :3c)

if u saw me repost this ignore it <3

Mint Eye 707 AU

lots of inverted cross jewelry (necklace and earrings). a. bc i think it looks cool and b. probably because he’ll have a lot of pent up resentment towards catholicism after feeling abandoned by the church after going to mint eye

about mint eye: run by v (rfa members are there too <3). seven is looked to as a second in command, or at least as being high ranking due to his hacking abilities, closeness to v, and knowledge of ~secrets~

instead of being angry at saeran, he’s angry at rika— seven’s mindset is that he’s trying to bring saeran to mint eye so they can both be happy “like they dreamed of being”

as for saeran? i like him as a sort of reverse au — in the rfa with rika. (maybe he’s an agent now? i hope he has a cool agent name)

plug in for my art 👉👈 headcanon he takes in a stray cat and makes it all edgy. names it after a flower for saeran <3

[ganymedesclock]

Ooh ooh ooh, how about your version of Sonic for the powers thing?

You see, Sonic is fast, because if he doesn't keep ahead of his problems, he'll have to actually think about them, and then he'll have a crisis.

This is partially a fun opener joke and it's also not. I'll let you decide how much of each it is. In the meantime, I'm going to talk about what my reads of various canons inspire in me, and how that informs Worlds AU, a bit more than talking about Worlds AU itself.

So Sonic in the initial game canon, started out with an extremely simple conceit. You can see this mirrored across all of the non-Amy classic characters: Sonic runs, that's his thing; Tails flies, Knuckles punches, Eggman makes robots and also problems, which sort of condenses into one thing considering the role robots have in the classic games.

(that damn caterkiller has cost me SO many attempts at a chaos emerald...)

This sort of got to be a problem as the games advanced. In particular, the Sonic game I started on was Sonic Adventure 2, which pitted Sonic very prominently off of Shadow. At this point, character concepts are no longer about simple capabilities, and every other member of the cast has grown up. (even Amy... though not too much. sorry Amy). Tails is now building robots to go with how his flight allows him to reach unconventional 'tricky' routes; Knuckles is now more of an adventurer, explorer, and even a mystic given his history and relationship with the emeralds. This earthly pugilist sense grounds him in a more versatile skill-set.

Sonic... basically his gimmick was remaining true to the classic formula- he was still the one going fast, popping those shuttle loops, and tumbling through a chaotic universe. Yes, they absolutely polished this and put flourishes on it- now he's grinding rails and flipping on poles, this sense of street-smart parkour that carries him cheekily through any environment...

But he's played off Shadow, where the thing about Shadow, especially in the first game, is Shadow is a person who suppresses most of his personality for his context. Not in an inorganic or badly written sense, mind- but he outright says to Rouge at one point that it doesn't matter if anything he remembers is fake- in essence, that it's more real than he is, and a dead person's wish is more important than his life.

Shadow is a soldier, is an alien, is a bioweapon, is a teleporter and he shoots lasers. We are beyond the days of simple conceits; if he was conceived in the classic era, he'd have probably been either only a jet-skater or a teleporter, and that one conceit about how he moved through the world would've been through everything.

Sonic picks up the chaos control from Shadow- in direct reaction to Shadow- and this is commented on. In this scene, Sonic not only rejects Shadow's unhealthy obsession with context- that where he came from was everything- but mirrors it with an attitude that, frankly, to me, rings just as unbalanced- Sonic basically denies having a backstory whatsoever.

"What you see is what you get!" he says.

And that flew in the classic era. We didn't really have a consistent or strongly-drawn backstory over why Sonic was fast. Most continuities around that era point it to either an accident or a happenstance synergy with an outside force. But we didn't really need a story over why Tails can fly or why Knuckles had spurs on his fists.

But in the modern era... there's context. Many characters have superpowers. And more and more, there was a sense that those superpowers had context and history, whether the outright spelled, like Shadow (he was engineered to be capable of this; if you look at him, he has most of the abilities you'd expect of a boss fight in Resident Evil, minus the squelchy, infectious sorts and the Black Arms imply he could well have those and just not use them)

...or the simply alluded, such as Blaze's ominous comment that her flames are the reason she was always alone.

Sonic... clearly has powers. He's been reframed to keep up with he setting as it changes. But that exchange between him and Shadow- where Shadow looks at what Sonic is capable of, looks at him, and asks, verbatim, "what are you," and Sonic delivers a non-answer so naked and so certain that there's not really anything to say to that.

To this end, while I think it's highly intuitive that they picked the wind as the motif to spice Sonic up to- with its sense of freedom, and with its association with speed- I think there's also something about air in general that connects to Sonic.

Air is... omnipresent. It has an extremely complex seething system high overhead. Enormous paths and belts and spirals of wind curl over us all the time, pushing clouds the size of entire states around like it's nothing. When you look at the sky, it looks stationary. But wait, squint- it's actually moving. It's actually moving really fast.

One of my absolute favorite characterizing moments of Sonic is in Archie Comics, specifically the post-reboot series. To keep context minimal, Tails confides in Sonic that he's losing his memory of a certain incident that affected both of them, and he's worried; Sonic reassures him, typical hero big brother best friend, and gives him a big hug. The scene is warmly lit.

The very next panel is literally in the shadows, over Tails' shoulder and behind his back. And Sonic's expression is... troubled. Telling. We immediately understand from that alone he just lied, and has no ability to 'just remember for Tails'.

Sonic is not a vacuous person. He's not empty, he's not innocent, and he's certainly not just your same good nostalgic friend who never changed or got complicated so you don't have to reevaluate all of those things- the guy you can always count on, just like the sky is always there- but he sure pretends to be all of those things, and tries to keep the stormy weather as far away from other people as possible.

This is given another heroic-sounding-but-actually-concerning context in Sonic Unleashed, one of several games in which Sonic shows a maybe suspicious but profound aptitude for darkness where he guzzles and serves as a very powerful conduit for the energy of Dark Gaia, who is strongly connoted with rage, despair, denial, and other states considered bad for your health.

Sonic asks Chip- who he's just found out is Dark Gaia's counterpart- if it was his protection that kept him from losing his mind the entire time. Chip denies this, and states instead it's that "you never let the darkness win."

The thing is... anger and sadness are actually pretty important to feel. And it's actually not true that Sonic as a character doesn't feel anger- there's a few rather notable scenes in which he really loses his cool, some of them within Sonic Unleashed itself (he actually scares Eggman at the culmination of the Egg Dragoon fight) and in the game Sonic and the Secret Rings he actually achieves a super form powered by negative emotions- and that game also ends on a surprisingly melancholy note, where Shahra, when leaving Sonic, specifically gives him a bunch of tissues, a nod to how they met, and specifically "So you can cry as much as you need to."

Sonic is a good person. But Sonic is also... kind of a liar. He has this powerful connection to these highly destructive and dangerous entities- Dark Gaia, Chaos- and this is a thing he, pointedly, doesn't wonder about. And it's not arrogance, or an inability to consider the possibilities- in Sonic Colors he is very real with himself that he can't outrun a black hole, but only admits that once Tails is out of earshot on the one safe ride away from it- and while gearing up to try to do so anyway.

Wind is a contradictory thing. In the sky, we consider the possibility of ultimate freedom; flight and wings are often depicted as symbols of enormous power and efficacy because the very notion of being able to go wherever you want to captivates us.

On the other hand, though, a state of freefall is terrifying. In the unparalleled freedom of the sky, absolutely nothing can catch you if you fall.

(you know, except Tails, if you're fighting Eggman in Marble Garden- I'll leave)

We can talk about a bolt from the blue, a sudden storm or a just-as-sudden clear blue sky... the mechanisms of the air around us are often very hard to perceive for their superficial simplicity. And on sunny days when the wind lazes slowly through the leaves, it's hard to think of it as capable of hurricane forces.

I guess the note I want to leave this on is, it's pretty interesting how Sonic genuinely likes running, but he also tends to either outrun or fight anything that stresses him out- and "what he is" and "what he's capable of" is something he really doesn't like talking about even if he's happy to show or compete it.

[heartofspells]

Fic Idea Game

Well, @fonkeloog, guess I can’t very well skip out on my own idea, can I?

We all have those lists, right? The ones that just build and build, filled with ideas we don’t know if we’ll ever actually make something out of or not.

Tell me about those (if you want and are willing; i understand sometimes ideas sit closely for a reason).

Which ones are you the most excited about?

One idea I have that I’m very excited about but has been tabled only until I finish a few other things is a fake marriage AU. Basically, Sirius is sorted into Gryffindor, but he didn’t want to be. He never connects with James/Remus/Peter as he does in canon. They’re all just sort of there for him. He’s a little cold, sticks close with his family, wobbles a bit on their ideas and beliefs. Call him grey. But the Blacks decide Sirius needs to get married in his last year at Hogwarts. Sirius is firmly against it, wants no part of it. He looks into marriage laws, and then he goes to Remus and proposes (ha!) the idea in the most blunt way possible. Then a lot of other things happen, all while Remus thinks Sirius is such a horrible person though he actually turns out not to be.

One more I’ve had rather recently, and is still building, is a world where James and Lily die on Halloween but Sirius doesn’t go to Azkaban. Him and Remus are together during the war, but Sirius breaks it off. He falls apart after his friends’ deaths, sinks very far down in his misery (darkly). He either gets Harry and loses him, or never gets him at all (I haven’t decided yet), but Remus (who isn’t a werewolf) raises him instead. Jump several years later and Sirius is still drifting through life in his dark pit, but he runs across the pair, and it sparks something in him. He begins essentially stalking them. Remus finds out, and he tells Sirius he doesn’t care that Sirius sees Harry, but he’s got to get himself together and under control again before that can happen. Cue Sirius’ rise back from the ashes (slowly, with several slips along the way), and him ending up with his family. 

What’s one you don’t think you’ll ever follow through with, and why?

I’ve had this one for a long time, and I just keep sitting on it, never moving forward. Something about it just pokes the wrong way, even if I do sort of love it while also hating it. 

Sirius and Remus are both drug addicts who meet in rehab after James and Lily mostly force Sirius in for his own safety and health. At first, Remus seems to be taking the whole thing seriously, working the steps, getting himself clean and better, but it turns out he’s not. He’s actually very self-destructive, and he pulls Sirius down with him several times. It’s a very rise-and-fall idea. Remus would also have HIV from using, and I’m not sure if it’s that that keeps putting me off from ever actually writing it, or the very ‘we’ll be one another’s ends’ vibe the whole thing holds, but for now it sits and doesn’t move

Are any of them just left to rest because you need to talk them out more and haven’t? If so, maybe someone will see this and help!

I have a very loose idea for some sort of soulmate AU where the boys hate one another, then something happens that clues them into being one another’s soulmate, and they despise it, fight against it, but eventually work into each other. But what that thing is, the other details behind everything, I’ve no idea, and haven’t given it much thought beyond the forming of the idea. 

I also have another idea that I started years ago where Remus owns a perfume shop that used to be his mother’s. Sirius and James stumble into it one day searching out a gift for Lily. I had a plot at one point, but it’s gone now, and I’m not sure what direction to take it in. I’ve got a whole first part written with baby Remus playing while his mother works and an old woman coming in and telling him this story about love and life, but I can’t for the life of me remember the purpose behind it. 

Put your ideas out there! Give us your full lists or just one idea. Make people excited about them so that you’re also excited. Sometimes that’s all it takes to light that spark, and I love that so much.

I won’t bog this down with tags again as I’ve already done that, but if you see it and want to participate, by all mean, please do! I’d love to see it and get those minds working. 

[syn0vial]

Top 5 Boba moments 🥺

ohh fun! :D i’m gonna go in chronological order for these, just for organization’s sake. i’m also going to try and only include moments i haven’t talked much about before, just to keep things fun and fresh!

1. freeing the sea mice: starting from the very first boba fett junior novel the fight to survive, bc, well, chronological order! i like this moment bc it really emphasizes how innocent boba used to be. basically, there’s an aquarium with an eel in the fett’s kamino apartment and while jango and zam are off making bad decisions on coruscant, boba is tasked with it feeding aquatic rodents called “sea-mice” to the eel, something he’s never had to do before. but he doesn’t like doing it. the sea-mice always seem to trust him when he picks them up and he feels guilty for betraying them by feeding them to the eel. so, one day, he decides it’s going to be different. that morning, he feeds the eel his own breakfast (which is like, both sweet and hilarious, like honey did you really just throw your lunchables into an eel’s tank bc you wanted to make sure it was fed even while you’re out here freeing feeder mice? A+ for good intentions, F- for knowledge of how animals work) and tries to free a few of the sea-mice into kamino’s oceans. unfortunately, they don’t survive. the next day, boba reluctantly goes back to feeding the mice to the eel, telling one before he drops it in, “sorry; life is hard on the small and the weak,” echoing a saying of his father’s. this then becomes horrible foreshadowing for the rest of the series, in which boba is orphaned and suddenly finds himself being preyed upon by all sorts of antagonists. i know it’s a kids’ series and it’s Not That Deep, but i do really like that there’s a parallel created between boba and the mouse and the implication of the series as a whole that boba fett didn��t become a notorious hunter because he was always that way, but specifically because he started out as prey. also, it’s kind of hilarious in retrospect that boba felt compassion for rodents, but literally days later attempted to take obi-wan’s life without hesitation. kid’s really got his priorities in order.

2. standing up to jabba the hutt: this is from the junior novel boba fett: hunted, which is my favorite of the junior novels for him. in the story, boba pretends a short-statured adult by concealing his face with his father’s helmet and attempts to find work from jabba the hutt. however, when he finally gets an audience with jabba, jabba indeed offers to bring him back to his palace—as an indentured servant. and this freaking, like, eleven-year-old, staring down the criminal kingpin of tatooine with no weapons and no armor besides a too-big helmet, snaps at jabba the hutt, “my debt to you? what do i owe you for?” naturally, he is immediately set upon by one of jabba’s guards, and, well, i’ll let you read the rest :D

Boba had no time to think. He acted.

Without a sound, he leaped to one side. The Drovian’s knife whistled harmlessly through the air where, a nanosecond before, Boba had been.

“Huh?” gaped the hulking alien.

A small table stood near the viewscreen. Boba grabbed the table and swung it in front of himself, fending off the Drovian’s blade. Jabba himself watched, laughing coarsely.

“You will pay for this!” croaked the Drovian.

As the guard bore down on him, Boba thrust the table upward. The knife stuck in the wood surface. While the Drovian struggled to free his weapon, Boba pushed the table up farther. Then, he darted sideways, kicking at the lumbering guard’s knees. With a groaning thud, the Drovian stumbled and fell. Jabba’s guests laughed as Boba turned to breathlessly face Jabba.

“I am no one’s slave or servant!” Boba said. “I will work for you, for a price—but I will name that price!”

like, this kid really just brought down an armed adult with nothing but an end table AND finishes it off with a badass line defending his autonomy and defying jabba the hutt! definitely one of my favorite moments from the junior novels.

3. the Look he exchanges with lando while han is being tortured in the background

look, idk why this is so funny to me, but it is. lando’s just so full of loathing for this man who is complicit in forcing him to betray han and boba’s just like “you got shit to say to me. or nah?” he’s such a fucking asshole, i love it.

4. staying conscious just long enough to express his displeasure with the situation in iiiiii think the mandalorian armor, idk it’s been awhile: this story takes place post-RoTJ, after boba has escaped the sarlacc pit, killing it in the process, and is being gradually regaining his strength with the help of fellow bounty hunter dengar and amnesiac former slave neelah. at this point in the story, he’s still quite weak and spends most of his time slipping in and out of consciousness. unfortunately, some of boba’s enemies find out he’s still alive and just start fucking carpet-bombing their general location, so dengar and neelah go “shit, we need a bomb shelter, stat!”...and then slowly turn to look at the subterranean corpse of the sarlacc pit. they thus drag boba’s unconscious body back into the pit so they can all hunker down and wait out the bombs. except, surprise, surprise! the sarlacc ain’t completely dead. one of its giant tentacles starts attacking the group and is succeeding in getting the upper hand over dengar and neelah, when suddenly, boba wakes up. takes a look around and realizes where he is. and then grabs the nearest blaster and just goes apeshit firing on the tentacle, finally managing to kill it. too exhausted to talk, he then turns and fixes dengar with the angriest, most hate-filled glare the man has ever seen... and then promptly passes out. i remember just dissolving into giggles the first time i read that scene. just the mental image of boba fett giving dengar the scariest fucking “why the fuck did you fucking bring me back here” deathglare in the galaxy and then immediately losing consciousness. energy well-spent, boba.

5. that time boba did a mission completely in his underwear for no discernible reason, because daniel keys moran: this one’s just like. so delightfully bizarre that i’m not even going to try justifying it logically bc literally the only reason it exists was bc renowned EU author and certified mad man daniel keys moran really wanted to give boba his strong female character moment, because he deserves it. so, in this subplot, boba is tracking this devaronian war criminal who is holed up in a safehouse equipped with security systems that are triggered by the presence of, like, metal. which means boba can’t wear his armor plates and can’t use any blasters or other gadgetry. so boba loads up a compound bow and knife and makes to hunt this guy down. now, what about his armor? obviously, the most logical thing to do would be to just remove the metal plates and hunt in his flight suit. or, if that isn’t satisfactory, go out and buy like, leather armor or something? or just clothes? BUT NOPE. boba apparently goes, “well, if i can’t wear my armor, i’m not gonna wear ANYTHING” and just. does the entire mission in his underwear. he tracks and stalks this man, shoots him with an arrow, and then chases him down with a knife, ALL IN HIS UNDERWEAR. daniel keys moran even goes so far as to explicitly specify that these ain’t no long-johns, either. he’s like, “and the underwear...... MAINLY COVERED HIS DICK.” LIKE, DANIEL? DANIEL? HOW IS IT THAT OUT OF THE TWO BOBA FETT STORIES YOU’VE WRITTEN, BOTH OF THEM MENTION HIS DICK IN SOME CAPACITY? DANIEL? WHO KEEPS LETTING YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS??? and, like, can you imagine being this poor devaronian? you’re just living your fugitive war criminal life when an arrow hits you in the shoulder and boba fucking fett comes sprinting out of the woods at you in his underwear with a knife? what the fuck. this was canon at one point. what the fuck.

[echos-newlegs]

19 with anyone you want*

Let Me Go, Cyare

This one I had to think about since you gave me free range with characters, but I decided on Hardcase. He was mostly voted for last I checked the post where I asked for requests between a few clones I haven't written for yet.

'Francis Forever' by Mitski was playing and got me in the angst mood so.. Sorry in advance, buddies.

Hardcase x Reader: "Where are they? Please, I need to see them! Get out of my way!"

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warning: angst, mention of death, I cried a bit writing this lmao, minor cursing and Canon cursing.

You walked around the shitty apartment. Pacing the floors as you waited for any sort of message or knock from Hardcase to let you know that he was home, or that he would be a day or so later. He was scatterbrained, sure, but he was always so good at letting you know and not keeping you worried. 

You ran a hand through your hair, eyes falling back to the clock. Another hour had passed. It had been four hours. No response to your worried ‘is everything alright,’ ‘Hardcase?’ ‘Where are you?’ Messages. That was it, maybe you should go for a walk? Think it off? You couldn’t just lay down and sleep. Not with the thought that lingered in the back of your mind. That ‘oh, you’re dating a soldier! He could be lying on the ground. Cold and defenseless as his life slowly leaves his full of life eyes.’

The thought made you clench your jaw as you reached for your jacket. Shrugging it over your shoulders as you reached to wipe a tear that rolled down your cheek. You needed a drink, that’s what you needed.

You moved for the door. Jumping when you heard a pounding on it. It had to be him.

“Hardcase?” Your voice was full of hope and fear as the door swished open. Eyes meeting a familiar face, but not his. 

“Fives..” You muttered. Face dropping as the pit in your stomach only sunk deeper. Your throat is running dry as your eyes are coating with a glass. Waiting to shatter and spill down your cheeks. 

“Where is he? What’s going on?” You asked. Impatiently waiting for an answer. Maybe he was pulling some sick prank. That had to be it. 

You chuckled a bit at it. Looking up to the clone in front of you. Peeking behind him, then around him outside the door. Searching for the wild man you grew to love. “This is a joke, right?” You questioned. Voice wavering. Not even giving him a chance to speak. “He thought this would be fun-funny?” Your voice cracked at the frown on his face. He always smiled, what was going on?

“Hey, why don’t you come with me?” 

You were shaking now. “Is he okay?” You mouthed. The glass in your eyes shattering. You couldn’t do this any longer. 

“Let’s go for a walk, okay, General?” 

General, but you were a civilian, were you not? Nothing more. You've never wanted to be anything more. A simple life. That's all you've ever wanted.

“Goddammit, Fives! Answer me, is he okay?” You shouted, the wave of emotions washing over you. Watching as the man backed up at your small outburst.

“I’m sorry,” You let out, shakily. Closing your eyes as you stood there. “I haven’t.. I mean,, he normally tells me when you’re all back. Is he..?”  your eyes searched his. Mind thinking of the worse.

“No, no, he’s alive, but.. He’s in a pretty bad state.” 

You let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

“How bad? Is he awake?” You asked, and he shook his head. Looking back down.

“Thought if you went and saw him, he’d wake up.. I can’t lose him either.” 

Those words made your eyes water again. Reaching out for the other. Pulling him in for a hug. The two of you standing in the hall hugging for what felt like forever.

The world seemed to be frozen in place, but not your mind. What if he didn’t make it? What even happened? What if he did come back, but he wasn’t the same? What if he gets taken back to Kamino and.. And what then?

“Let’s go see him then.” Was the last thing you said to Fives on your venture back to the Medbay.

Kix was rushing around from bed to bed when you saw them all. Your stomach is flipping, and not the ‘butterfly in your stomach.’ Sort of way. Not like when you saw his eyes light up because you agreed to go on that first stupid date. Where the two of you nearly died because Hardcase managed to start your kitchen on fire. Since the two of you didn’t have enough credits for something fancy, but really. It was the best date you had ever been on. 

Your eyes watered again as Fives rubbed the small of your back. Waiting patiently for Kix to stop running and have the time to take you to him. 

“Oh—“ Was all he said, and your small smile wavered. ‘Oh—‘ What did that mean? 

“Why did you bring them here?” He nearly snapped, and Fives shrugged. “I thought it might help him?” Kix groaned at his brothers words. Lolling his head back just the slightest to express his annoyance. 

“They cannot see him like this.”  his voice was sour.

They were talking like you weren’t standing right there. Inches away from their conversations. Able to overhear them even if they were whispering, and they weren’t. 

“Why not?” You asked, brow furrowing with a glimpse of sadness. “Does he not want to see me?” 

They both froze, and Kix shook his head, 'no,’ after a while. “That’s not what I—“ “Then you cannot choose what I can and cannot handle, Kix.” Kix shook his head again. Approaching you with his hands in front of you. As if to push you back. You weren’t about to budge, though. 

“Where are they!” You all heard a shout. Looking back to see a few med droids struggling in the corner. Curtains peaking open enough to see someone scurrying around in a panic. “Please! I need to see them!” His voice was shrill. Hoarse and scratchy. It sounded as if it were painful for him to even talk without screaming. 

“Hardcase..” You murmured.

Before Kix could even process what was going on you were running past him. Shoving him to the side as you rushed back to where all the commotion was. 

“Get off me for Kriff sake!” He shouted again. It had to be him! Sure he and his brothers had the same voice, but you knew his. The uniqueness to it.

“Hardcase!” You shouted with hope in your voice. Pulling the curtain back. Your heart was pounding. Chest aching as you hoped to see him. 

But instead it was someone else. Someone entirely different, but yet not. It wasn’t because it was a clone of him, no. It was him. Just.. He wasn’t there. He was bloodied, and his eyes were dull. Lifeless. His smile was gone. Left without a trace as he stared into your eyes with his own once bright, gleaming eyes. 

“Stop it..” You murmured as you backed up from the curtains. Room growing dark as your breathing picked up. “I died, Cyare, and you know it. Let me go, please, it hurts, I can’t stay any longer.” His voice echoed through your ears. His body seemed to be burning as he fought back his screams. Your eyes closing shut as tightly as you could. The way your head pounded made you want to scream. You felt paralyzed as you stood there in place. “But I can’t!” You shouted without even realizing it.” “Wake up, please.” 

Your eyes shot open. Just this time you were lying on the ground. Staring up at the ceiling. Panting heavily. 

“General! Are you alright!” The 501st was surrounding you. Your eyes darting around, but you were still unable to move your arms. 

“Do you know where you are?” Tup asked, and you shook your head. Tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m too late, aren’t I?” 

They all shared a glance. Eyebrows furrowed. “Too late for what, sir?” 

“They already left.. He won’t make it out.. Only Fives and Jesse will.” 

“Sir, you’re scaring us. What are you talking about?” Dogma asked. Kneeled beside you. Watching as your eyes stared up towards the ceiling. 

“I had a vision.. Hardcase..” You bit back a whimper as you swallowed back the lump in your throat. “He’s gone.” someone finished.

Your eyes caught movement. Watching two clones walk in through the door. Buckets under their arms. Fives staring over to you. Meeting your eyes. "And he did it for you, for us all."

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Two

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 2 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction. 

Warnings in this chapter: brief reference/hint to past sexual assault. 

Word Count: 7,500+

A/N: Thank you so much for your excitement about this series! I always smile when I read your comments. Sorry for such a long chapter, but it’s only ten parts and I gotta fit all somewhere lol

~

Unknown Location, 2015, 10:46pm

     The tightness of the rope wrapped around your wrists was excruciating, each movement causing it to rub against the already damaged skin, leaving more angry, red marks. You whipped your head back and forth, anger and fear coursing through your veins as you stared your father down. You watched as he carefully maneuvered his way around the room, every back straightening as he walked past them, every gun cocked and pointed right at you. Your nose twitched up as he walked closer, inspecting the ropes tying your feet to the chair and so on. You accumulated all the spit you could and aimed it for his face, pride washing over you as it hit him perfectly. But as quickly as that pride built, it shattered, a stinging sensation on your cheek now overpowering any other sense. 

“You cost me ten million.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to let it slip as you did not want another beating. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same!”

“Don’t tell me what I would have done!”

You flinched inwardly, your face still blushing with growing madness. If only you could loosen these bonds… 

“You will know to not mess up again.”

And as your father left the room, the men lined up against the wall finally let their shoulders fall forward, their once blank faces now donning sadistic smiles.

The Compound, 2018, 2:07am 

You sat up from your mound of pillows, kicking them to the side as well as the heavy blanket. Your ears rang impossibly loud, and it wasn’t until your feet touched your bedroom floor that you could hear yourself screaming. Your body was drenched in sweat, sliding easily on your wood floor as you kicked to escape the blanket. 

Sharp knocks against your door startled you, sudden ‘please, don’t!’’s escaping your mouth. Hyperventilating was always tiring, you thought, and the air was now super cold as you sucked it into your lungs.

“Doll, please? I’m coming in.”

The light from the hallway blinded you so you lifted your arm up as a temporary shield. 

“No, no! I’m good… I didn’t lose it. Please, trust me!”

“Y/N…”

You lowered your arm and stared at your nighttime intruder, instincts kicking in upon settling your teary eyes on him and causing you to groan in displeasure. 

“Don’t look at me.”

“Y/N.”

“I said don’t look at me.”

Steve sighed in defeat and walked back to your door. You thought he was going to simply leave you be, letting you ride out this panic attack alone like all the others. But he shut the door and made his way over to your couch on the other side of the room, plopping himself down and leaning his sleepy head in his right hand. It had been six months since the world literally fell apart, an unknown feeling of terror that simply sat at the pit of stomachs eating away at whatever sanity its host still had, plaguing the world. Tiredness was second nature, never actually reducing its power no matter how much sleep one got. But leaving you here to suffer each individual thread being pulled from your remaining sanity, alone, wasn’t an option. 

“Why are you staying?”

“I have nightmares, too. You aren’t that special.”

You rolled your eyes, hands now massaging your aching chest. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Y/N, you were screaming for help.”

“I scream for a lot of things.”

You figured Steve would succumb to his growing annoyance, but he stayed patient. 

“Was it about…?”

You sighed and pulled yourself up to your feet, knees wobbly and thighs alerting you of the droplets of sweat that beaded down your legs. “No. I don’t dream about the snap.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You let out a rather angry sigh. You were now rubbing your eyes, cleaning them of the accumulation of hard mucus. “I seriously don’t want to talk about this particular incident.”

Steve huffed through his nose and you were ready to pounce on him to tear that beard from his face, but stopped when you saw his small smile and genuine empathy in his eyes. “Okay, I won’t push you.”

You just stared at him, eyes wide and confused. But you nodded slowly, eyes now diverting to the blanket below you. 

“I’m just so fucking happy the snap took my father.”

Steve’s lifted his head quickly by your abrupt confession, eyebrows furrowed and lips frozen, as if wrapped around a lost word he couldn’t verbally address. He understood, but it shocked him nonetheless.

He ignored it, or at least chose to avoid an immediate discussion about it, and stood from your couch. 

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wanted to throw him out. Him being across the room and near the wall was starting to trigger more flashbacks. 

It’s Steve. It’s just Steve.

“Can you stay?”

Steve stumbled slightly in his step, clearly uncomfortable with your request. But he was a good man and when one of his teammates needed help, he would do whatever he could. And you were one of the only teammates he had left. 

“Okay,” he said. But as he made his way back to the couch and away from you, sudden racks of itchiness stretched from your wrists to the middle of your chest. You stumbled from the bed, arms extended outward as if you were still shielding yourself from some incoming attack. 

“No, no! Just…”

Steve watched your movements carefully, trying to discern between fear or awkwardness. He sighed and let you see his hands, turning them over in the air.

“It’s me. Tell me where you want me.”

You were in control. Just tell him where you want him. 

“I’ll lay here,” you started, getting back into the right side of the bed and pulling the covers up to your hips. “You there, but upside down.”

Steve chuckled and followed your commands. You watched him walk, feeling the dip of your mattress as his heavy body lay down. You were grateful when his sock-covered feet touched your left side pillow, his chuckles gaining volume as he tried to get comfortable. 

“Do I at least get a blanket?”

“Oh!” you leapt from the bed and to the closet.  He listened to your soft pitter-patter as you shuffled across the cold floor, shutting his eyes to relish in the childish melody. You passed Steve two heavy blankets, mindful of the cold weather outside. Then you climbed back into bed, passing Steve a few pillows, and snuggling back into your own. 

A few shifts of the blankets made you open your eyes again. Steve was not as stiff as you expected him to be - almost like he wanted to help you - and you mentally slapped yourself remembering that he would do this for Bucky. 

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You took solace in the fact that he couldn’t see the tiny grin on your face. “Thank you.”

Steve smiled up at the ceiling, thankful that he could still help others even when he himself was falling apart. “You’re welcome.”

Present Day, 2025, 9:45am

     If anyone were to truly study Steve, they would see he was starting to act his age. He enjoyed fluffy socks, tea instead of coffee, sketching in the secluded garden of the new compound - anything a man pushing a hundred would truly enjoy. And he found himself shaving less, watching every new movie released regardless of genre, and eating much more oatmeal than usual. He remembers how whenever Bucky had saved up just enough for them to splurge on items they never usually indulged in, oatmeal would always be his go to. It was still a common ‘peasant’ meal for the two young bachelors, but Bucky would heat it up with fresh milk he had bought that morning, added the fresh strawberries and dates that were in season, and sprinkled brown sugar - damn, Steve loved brown sugar - on top. Bucky would place the bowl in front of Steve, ignoring Steve’s constant blabbering about ‘Buck, we can’t afford this’, or ‘you don’t need to spend your hard-earned money on me, you jerk’. But he would quickly shut up once Bucky’s perfected oatmeal recipe landed on his eager tongue and filled his happy stomach. Regardless of those past memories of young roommates searching for loose change in their couch and more recent ones of two reunited best friends sharing looks of awe whenever they saw how much milk and brown sugar now costs, Steve was certain the old man in him was just barely emerging. 

He definitely didn’t skip the irritated attitude phase every old man seemed to develop as the years passed, his resting facial expressions and movements starting to match those of his best friend. Grumpy, tired all the time regardless of the serum, and asking each other instead of the modern people around them how to work their phones. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, or go on a jog, or watch a movie - anything - rather than having to give a briefing about something he hadn’t had to think about for seven years. And although he had the chance to use the stones before and didn’t, Steve couldn’t quite help wishing that he was transported back to his and Bucky’s old and crumbling apartment, fighting over that one knitted blanket Bucky had bought for the both of them with his last dime.

You seemed happier with your whole family situation after the snap, but he never wanted to ask. Whether you were putting on a brave face for him, he was rid of it momentarily only to be pushed into the chaos all over again. But this time was different because you were finally going to end it all. Finish what you had started all those years ago - then maybe Steve could take that afternoon nap he wanted.     

“Talk to me. How are we doing this?”

Fury pulled up a screen with all the photos and biographies, essentially a powerpoint prepared by both you and Steve. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, sir. But I know my family and their schemes better than anyone,” you said. Fury knew this was true and the plan would ultimately be mapped out by you. His input was always welcome, but you knew the small details - their personalities, their weaknesses, their strengths, even the way they took their coffee. You even knew which of them sampled their product before sending it off on a cross-country road trip. 

Steve stood beside the monitor, using this finger to change the screen. “So, we’re looking for our physical proof. A paper trail detailing land and their product, contacts, storage units, aliases - the works.”

You nodded at Fury and your teammates. “Exactly. The hardest things to obtain will most definitely be evidence about my father’s involvement. Proof he gave the orders and profited from them.”

“Your word isn’t enough?” Sam asked.

“No, not unless I throw myself under the bus as well. It’s his word against mine unless I can prove these things were all his doing,” you responded, taking a sip from your water. 

The only other people in the briefing room besides Steve and Fury were Sam, Bucky and Scott. Everyone else would get a brief overview later on this week, but these three were specifically chosen by Fury to help aid you in the actual physical fight. 

“The wedding is the perfect distraction,” Scott spoke. “Almost like this was made for a heist.”

Steve released a heavy sigh, his patience already wearing thin. “Not a heist.”

“Close enough,” Scott shrugged, gaining a grin from you across the table. He smiled at your reaction and sent you a wink. 

“Agent, we have to go over the basics and any new information you can provide,” Fury encouraged.

You motioned toward Steve to bring up the photos on the monitor, “Let’s start with the basics.”

Steve took over for the first portion of your presentation. You didn’t mind - in fact, the more control he had in this would certainly help ease his mind and you definitely did not want a stressed out Steve Rogers accompanying you on a twelve hour road trip. 

“Ernesto Vega, father of Y/N Y/L/N, born 1950 in Guadalajara, Mexico, but because of the snap, the 80 year old is still only 75.”

“Damn, your father is old!”

You laughed at Sam’s outburst, “Yup, and I got like ten half-siblings.”

Sam sat up straighter, “No way?”

“Way.”

“Daniel Seda,” Steve continued, his voice louder. “Vega’s second in command, born 1970, currently 55 years old. Took over as top commander after the snap, and according to Y/N he didn’t take it well when everyone was brought back.”

“Hmm, threatened to put another bullet in me,” you teased, pointing at your stomach where the scar underneath your shirt had already long healed. You could have sworn you heard Steve’s breath hitch, but even if it did, he had quickly covered it by swiping the monitor. 

“But her father saw this as proof of loyalty. Because no matter how much he knows Y/N hates him, she still brought him back.”

You lifted your shoulders, arms in the air as if imitating the nonverbal form of ‘oh, well!’, and your thin smile caused your cheeks to pop out comically.

“So, Seda hates you?” Bucky asked, chuckles still vibrating in his chest from your previous childish movements.

You brushed your hand through the air, “Not the first man to hate me and not the last.”

Steve snickered. You could say that again.

“The wedding will be held at Vega’s personal and private ten-acre ranch in Northern California-”

“A lovely fall wedding!”

Steve bit his tongue, eyes never leaving the monitor. “Sure… and it’s perfect. He’s wanted and he’s going to be on U.S soil.”

You stood from your chair and grabbed the electronic marker from the desk. You circled the main points of entry plus the directions of secret exits hoping to emphasize the ‘private’ part of Steve’s statement. “And since it’s his most private getaway and no one would suspect he would hide important shit on said U.S soil, I’m about ninety-eight percent sure our proof is there.”

You pulled up the blueprints and marked a giant ‘X’ on the farthest corner room in the west end. It was your father’s office. 

“Ninety-eight?” Sam asked, reviewing the printed blueprints himself.

You twirled the marker between your fingers, “My dad is clever. My other two percent is telling me there’s no evidence at all.”

Scott clutched his chest in relief, “Okay, at least one outweighs the other.”

You shared another laugh with the ‘regular-sized man’.

Steve continued listing the basics, all while Fury sat toward the edge of the long table reviewing the screen. “The other two big names in the drug game are Omar Ramirez and Marcus White. Ramirez runs most things from Mexico City to San Antonio, Texas and he’s probably the least evil of them all. White runs Europe, specifically Germany and England.”

You interjected, “Ramirez focuses on the product. He orders his men to focus on the business instead of the outside world - meaning, no unnecessary kills, no violence toward women and children, no killing cops or citizens. Just producing and transporting.”

Almost forgetting he was there, Fury’s voice somewhat startled you. “Vega has lost men to Ramirez, men who wanted a change in scenery.”

You nodded in confirmation, “They aren’t necessarily enemies but they’re no besties either.”

Sam rolled the blueprints back up and handed them to Bucky. “So, we’re taking them all down?”

“The big three. Plus Seda,” Steve declared, finally taking his first sip of water in what felt like forever. If he didn’t want anyone to know he was nervous about this mission, he was for sure failing. 

You hummed, “Vega and Seda are also the only ones who know of Steve’s involvement.”

“How’d that happen?” Bucky asked.

“Because Steve only ‘transports’ my father’s product. Not the others. Steve’s role is essentially to green light the passages and is my main pull,” you clarified. 

It was true - Steve didn’t do or touch anything. And you thought this best considering he was America’s golden boy - you couldn’t possibly bear real involvement from him. This wasn’t his world and never should have been but it was yours. 

You dealt with people directly. You took out the snitches. You handled the product during inspections. You did it all - and not because you thought Steve was some fragile soul who couldn’t achieve the same results - but because you brought him into that mess during a time in his life when he definitely didn’t need it.

“But how did it happen?”

You shrugged, hoping your answer would suffice for the rest of the group as it never does for Steve. “When I first started out as a field agent, my father didn’t trust I was doing it for him. The more I promoted, the more suspicious he got. It wasn’t until we exposed SHIELD as half-HYDRA that he was done with me.”

Fury interjected once again, “So, Y/L/N here had to pull rank out of her ass.”

You snorted, “Thanks, Fury. That sounded nice.”

“I told them that I had the literal symbol of America by my side. That defeating HYDRA was only to get his friend back, not to save the world. Plus, I told them that HYDRA was targeting all of them. And once I could get proof - a forged recording made by Fury before he went into hiding - well, it was like the greatest example of submission.”

“Why didn’t you say Tony?” 

That certainly was a question Steve always had and wanted answered. God, he really hoped you had said Tony.

“Because I got the literal symbol of America as a partner-in-crime. My father almost told me he loved me... almost.”

You sat back down in your chair, a tiny puff of air escaping your lips. “And that made Seda furious. I may hate my father, but Seda is the main threat to blowing this whole operation.”

If anything, you wanted your father deader than dirt, silenced by the one child he always regretted bringing into the world. He had tortured you in more ways than you thought possible. 

      “Now, I thought my dad was bad.”

You fell back onto the couch before retrieving your cup of coffee you had placed on the table. Nebula gave you a tiny chuckle in return. 

 “Yes, mine has eradicated half the universe. I win ‘worst father’.”

You sipped your coffee, trying and failing to block out the banter between Rocket and Tony as they discussed the location of the space stone. “You know, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”

Nebula chewed her dinner slowly, listening to you ramble on about anything that popped into your mind. She knew this was your coping mechanism - to just keep talking until someone shut you up. But she enjoyed it, really, because you spoke of topics that she didn’t quite understand or know about. She learned something new everyday simply by listening to you. 

“I should have thanked Thanos for dusting his ass, though.”

Nebula stopped mid-chew, blank expression but the hint of a twitch in her lip visible.

“I’m joking.”

You had asked her once why Thanos had spared her and Tony when he snapped his fingers. But Nebula had no rational answer, only responding that he must have spared her out of last minute pity and Tony to live through the consequences. And the tiny voice inside your head knocked again, reminding you that ‘maybe this snap was overall a good thing - your father can’t hurt you anymore!’, but you shut it up as quickly as it came. 

“So, how many planets are there in the universe, really?”

     Fury began piling files in one folder, making sure to hand out the sheet with names and contact numbers of agents stationed close to the venue and your chosen hotel.  

“We’ll get into mission specifics at a later date once Rogers and Y/L/N are settled and scope out the place. For now, study up on your targets and perfect your acting skills.”

     You assumed you would only need one big suitcase for the trip, only packing essentials and extra shirts just in case. You rolled your clothes tightly, securing your signature perfume and some jewelry inside some sweaters. You hid identifiable items in the small compartments - your passport, journal, old SHIELD tag, driver’s license, etc. It was the paranoid side of you taking over, the possibility of having your cover blown likely and frightening. The amount of times you had ventured into the general vicinity of your father and his crew always proved safer than you expected. But there could always be that day he simply didn’t want you around anymore. 

So, you prepared in the smallest and even cringiest ways possible - resorting to drafting letters for those you wanted to remember you after you had been taken out. You paused your packing to grab your spare journal. You spent a good hour writing. A letter to Wanda, to Bucky, to Peter, to Rhodey, to Sam. Some were shorter than others - others extending to over two pages. But your mind was racing with things you hoped they would never have to read, scattered thoughts and only hints of identifiable wit penned on paper.

You tucked the letters behind the fabric you had recently ripped open. You planned on duct-taping the rip, your eyes drifting back over to your journal. You tapped your foot rapidly for a few seconds, fingers twisting in anticipation, mind still clear enough to draft one more. You quickly picked the pen right back up, sitting on the edge of your bed and starting the letter you might regret later. But at that moment, with the horrible prospect of dying on this mission, you wrote. 

     ‘Steve,

     Believe when I say that I was so sure I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…’

You wrote and wrote until your handwriting grew sloppy at the edge of the paper, and signed it. You tucked the final letter into the hole and taped it shut. You really hoped you would be able to survive and burn those written words later. 

A soft knock sounded from across the room and your bedroom door opened to reveal Steve, light blue dress shirt tucked into his jeans like the old man he truly was. You couldn’t help but grin at that, cursing your involuntary actions for this man. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You doing okay?” you asked, continuing to fold clothing into your suitcase. He leaned against your door, hesitant. Steve often wondered why and how he could go days, weeks - one time even a whole month - without speaking to or seeing you. He was an expert at one word answers by now, opting to always have someone else around whenever he seriously had to carry a conversation with you. But what struck him the most was that you didn’t seem to care anymore. He witnessed the change - hell, he was the one that caused it - but it was a change that he both wanted and didn’t. How was it so easy for you?

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he responded and walked over to your couch to sit. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to make this conversation the least awkward you could. “Because this was literally sprung on both of us after almost ten years of waiting.”

“I’m okay.”

You accepted his answer. He looked comfortable enough, shoulders relaxed and genuinely interested. There was a part of you that wanted to rush over and shake him, yell at him for being so clueless and fake at the same time. There was no possible way he was fully okay with everything - he hadn’t been himself since the snap, and when Natasha and Tony died, he was someone else entirely. You had brought it up with Bucky several times, but he assured you that Steve was just dealing with things his own way. That he was still a man out of time, they both were, and battle after battle could take its toll. And Bucky would hype their therapist up, that they were the reason he and Steve are able to walk in public without that constant voice warning of danger in the back of their heads, and that you should schedule a visit sometime. You always declined, asking him to call you if he truly needed another person to talk to. He would smile, taking you up on your offer whenever a day was particularly triggering.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was sixteen. Ten years really just flew by… considering.”

Steve nodded, “Is there anything I should know?”

You hummed, “If you mean things about my family, then I’ll just tell you on the way there or at the hotel.”

He chuckled and stood to lean against your bedpost. “No, I mean like, what should I pack just in case?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at such an innocent question, “Um, comfy socks. It’s pretty cold in California in the winter. Gas money, it’s pretty fucking expensive, too.”

He smiled, “Good to know.”

The two of you packed in silence for several minutes. Steve helped you roll your clothes and gather your toiletries, even asking you if you wanted to bring your current toothbrush or the new one in your bottom drawer. 

You knew you shouldn’t have spoken about the topic burning in your throat, but you felt like you had to say something. If you mentioned it during the mission, you risked a larger argument than the one you would get now. So you formulated your next sentence carefully, already bracing for impact as it slipped.

“Look, the elephant in the room should be addressed. Once my father’s dealt with, I have no reason to stay here.”

Steve clipped the belt over the top of your clothes, securing the items tightly. He seemed disoriented, your sudden proclamation startling him. “What do you mean? You did the work, you trained, you helped us literally save the world.”

You shrugged and kept your voice light, “Yeah, but I started this gig when I was sixteen. I didn’t join the Avengers until I was freshly in my twenties. I’ve literally known nothing else but fighting.”

Steve sat at the edge of your bed, furrowed eyebrows and all as he chose his next words. He felt both angry and sad, a mixture of feelings that he never quite grew accustomed to whenever he was around you. They ate away at him slowly, creeping into his brain to wrap around his common sense, his sense of self, the man he was before the snap. 

“Are you saying you just need a break?”

“I think,” you shrugged, zipping the suitcase and tugging its weight off your bed and onto the floor. 

“What about Wanda and Bucky?”

You scrunched your face in amused confusion, a playful smile resting on your lips, “I’m not falling off the face of the Earth, Steve. I’ll visit or something.”

“Or something.”

He stood and walked back to your couch, restless and even more stressed than he was before he entered your room. 

“Steve, we lost so much. It’s been two years since we brought everyone back, but… it took its toll.”

He snapped his head up, “You don’t need to tell me about shit taking its toll.”

You felt like you stared at him for several minutes, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach and traveling up your throat. That familiar lump constricting your airway as you forced yourself to swallow it and the forming tears. And once again, your mouth spoke before your mind could approve.      

“Why didn’t you use the stones for yourself?”

Steve sat, shocked into silence temporarily. “What?”

“When you and Carol put the stones back - why didn’t you stay somewhere you really wanted to be?”

You remember watching him step onto the platform holding the briefcase of infinity stones and holding Mjollnir, - because of fucking course he could wield Mjollnir, he was a good man even if you were on his bad side - simply minding his own business and waiting for Carol to join him. You remember thinking he would return with a different story, only after he got some of that life Tony had always encouraged him to find, that he would go back to Peggy and live the life he always wanted. But as quickly as they disappeared into thousands of timelines did they reappear, Carol joyful and content while Steve trailed behind her. Your heart had pounded erratically, Bucky looking at you with wide eyes because yes, I thought he would do exactly what you were thinking, too. 

“None of your business.”

“I’m not trying to pry-” you reasoned, but Steve stepped toward you with flushed cheeks and a cracked voice. 

“But all you do is pry, pry, pry. God, do you ever just shut up?”

All you could hear behind the ringing of your ears were Steve’s quick breaths, slowing as each second passed and he realized what he had said. A moment of weakness, in his opinion, but still uncalled for. 

“Pack some snacks for the road and get out of my room.”

Steve straightened his back, eyes practically yelling for you to look at him again, pleading for you to see the remorse swimming in them. But you just tugged your suitcase to the corner of your room, ignoring him completely. “Gladly.”

     You and Steve were mature enough to keep your arguments at least a hundred miles away from any mission you were conducting or when around your friends. A quick quarrel in the morning was basically nonexistent a few hours later when the whole group suggested a board game or movie night. Although this impromptu road trip would be the slightest bit awkward, you two were smart enough to not compromise the mission. 

And you had to drive as flying and airport security was too risky, especially with the amount of weapons attached to your body and in the trunk of that rented car. 

“Call us when you hit the first checkpoint. After that, we’ll be monitoring your hotel check-in and any new ones, police reports filed throughout that week, anything that directly involves your stay,” Bucky said, handing you a burner phone. 

You stepped forward to hug him. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He gave you a tight squeeze, releasing you slightly to whisper in your ear. “Try not to kill him for the next twelve hours, will ya?”

You pulled away and gave him your best grin, bumping your bracelet with his. “You know I can’t promise that, Bucky.”

He rolled his eyes, “You kill him, I kill you.”

“Ugh, don’t tease me.” Bucky almost burst out laughing from the fake, pornographic moan you let out because of his threat. 

“No, but seriously - just… lay low, trust each other, and we’ll be there in the next few days.”

You slid the burner into your sweater pocket and patted it, checking if it was secure. You waved goodbye to Bucky and pulled the passenger door open. You blew him a kiss, red lipstick now on your fingers. “Can’t wait to see you!”

Bucky stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, an embarrassed but happy smile on his face. He caught the floating kiss mid-air. “Already miss you!”

“Stop, I’m blushing!” you teased, your left hand resting palm up on your forehead in an exaggerated manner. 

“Go!”

You obliged, falling into the passenger seat and clicking your seatbelt. 

Twenty minutes into the drive and Steve finally decided to speak. 

“So, you and Bucky?”

You giggled, thumbs currently flying over your phone screen as you tried to beat your high score in some awful video game you discovered last week. “Yup, I got him wrapped around my finger.”

Steve’s hand fidgeted on the steering wheel, “Seriously?”

You closed out your video game, “No, Steve. It’s mindless flirting. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Ahh…” he nodded in understanding, a lazy smile resting on his face. He focused on both the road and you, your head leaning against the foggy window. “About earlier-”

“Don’t mention it,” you interrupted. The second you peaked through your heavy eyelids did you lock eyes with Steve, regret visible in them. 

He continued, “I blew up at you and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Cool, you’re forgiven.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned quietly, but you weren’t getting angry. You were just tired from the day already and having to sit for twelve hours straight wasn’t going to help. So, you took the high road. “Look, it’s a twelve hour drive until our first stop. Let’s forget about it or else I promise you, I will jump out of this car when you push eighty.”

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled in his chest due to your absurd promise, but he accepted your answer. 

“...Okay.” 

     By hour two, there was a restlessness between the both of you. No matter how much you extended your leg, the cramping wouldn’t go away. No matter how many times Steve would twist his neck to the side to get it to crack, it would just tighten again. So, against protocol but still on your best behavior, you and Steve made a couple stops along the way.      

The first was a burger joint in the middle of buttfuck Ohio, you had commented, earning a choking sound from Steve as he tried to contain his laughter. It was a hole in the wall type of place, perfect for lying low and out of sight, and you had enjoyed your meal in the car. You listened to Steve’s playlist on low volume, stealing each other’s fries to simply piss the other off, and hit the road after your meal.      

The second stop was around hour eight, and the sun was already starting to set. You desperately needed to use the bathroom and once you saw a tiny town that ‘looks so much like the town in Gilmore Girls!’, Steve pulled over and parked in a diner parking lot. Donning caps and ordering a coffee and a tea to go to seem less suspicious, you hurried from the diner and back to your car. You stopped dead in your tracks, eyeing a gazebo with a black miniature fence around it. You begged Steve to snap a photo, promising that this would be the only favor you ask of him for the next few hours, and went to hitch one leg over the metal fence. You settled yourself on top, hands gripping the railing and trying not to fall. You started to laugh uncontrollably as the fence started hurting your bottom, begging Steve to snap the photo quicker.      

‘Take the damn picture, you big oaf!’     

‘Well, then hold still!’     

‘It’s hurting my ass!’     

‘Smile!’    

The third stop was the final one, somewhere in Iowa and deep in the forest. You complained about how Fury warned you of motels, that you would have to seek shelter elsewhere to avoid being recognized. You could easily blend in, but the mountain of muscle beside you would blow your cover. And you wanted to arrive in California undetected by the media.       

Steve drove the car into a dark and secluded part of the forest, ground that seemed used by campers often and had an emergency phone and landline nearby. It was secret enough, so you parked the car and retrieved the blankets from the trunk.      

“You taking the back?” Steve asked, jumping back into the car and rubbing his hands together because of the chilly weather. His face was flushed from just a few seconds out in the cool breeze, nose frozen and the tip red. He looked younger, you thought, somewhat resembling those renditions of Greeks in renaissance art.      

“You’ve been driving all day. You should stretch your legs,” you answered, already wrapping the blanket up to your shoulders and securing it around your neck.      

“You sure? We can alternate.”     

You smiled, already feeling the effects of the warmth on your tired body, “I’m sure, Steve. Get some rest and I’ll drive in the morning.”     

Steve exited the car after turning it off - sucks that you had to save the gas - and hopped into the backseat. He kicked off his shoes and lay across the connected seat, facing you. He could see the outline of your nose as you tilted your head slightly to the side, the blanket wrapped around your neck and hiding the real length of your hair. It resembled a bob cut by how half of it was hidden, and Steve thought that hairstyle would suit you.      

Your personal phone rang, cutting through the comfortable silence and startling the both of you. You fumbled it in your hand and looked back at Steve, face falling as you showed him the name.      

Seda.      

“Answer it on the third ring.”     

You did as Steve told you, answering the phone on the third ring and preparing your voice. He scrambled for the tape recorder, pressing ‘play’ as soon as he could.      

“You rarely call me. To what do I owe the pleasure?” you answered.      

His voice sounded hoarse over the phone, almost like he had just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes. “Are you attending?”    

“My dear sister is getting married, Seda. Of course I’m going to embarrass her.”     

He paused for a few moments, sounding like he was directing the people around him to finish something. But he responded to your answer in a serious tone. “I hope you’re being your usual sarcastic self and aren’t serious.”     

You rolled your eyes and pointed at the phone, and Steve’s lips spread into a smile. “You’ve known me long enough to know, I hope.”     

“Sadly.”     

“I’m hurt,” you joked, voice still light and cheerful. Seda paused on the line again, the sound of papers rustling letting you know the line was still active.      

“I need to know if the Captain is attending too.”     

“He was invited,” you responded, laughing a little at the fact that Seda hadn’t known this information you were sure the rest of your family knew.      

He chuckled, a slight whistle sound letting you know he was smoking another cigarette. “Mm, guess your family is finally meeting your lover, huh?”     

The air in your mouth didn’t make it down to your lungs and you looked at Steve with equally wide eyes. But you didn’t stay fazed for long, responding to such an accusation with ease. “My lover, yes. I’m so damn giddy about that.”     

Seda hummed in satisfaction, “Your father always told you to not get involved with the product. Scrambles your brains from thinking straight. But he applauds you on this one.”     

You put a finger in your mouth and mimicked gagging, causing Steve to cover his mouth to muffle his laugh. “I’ve never mentioned the Captain as my lover before. Why is my father always right?”     

You knew exactly what to say. The more backhanded praise you gave your father only fed into the truth and lies everyone knew - truth being you hated your father because of his power and the lie being that you were just as power hungry as him. As long everyone assumed you wanted this power, the more you had to act like you hated your father’s.      

“He knows more than he lets on. You know that.”     

“I know a lot of things.”     

Seda continued, “No friends allowed, anyway. So, if the Captain isn’t your lover then… we may have problems. Is there a problem?”     

You kept your voice at a steady volume, “I said I was with him, didn’t I? Have you seen the man?”          

“Seen him, heard him speak. So righteous and dull. Not really your type.” Seda was growing impatient with the conversation, clearly angry that he hadn’t caught a slip or lie from you.      

You scrunched your face in disgust, “Ew, don’t think you know my type.”     

     “Buck, ‘my type’ is back home with a warm chicken noodle soup in my lap and a couple of loose papers at my disposal,” Steve whined, trying to keep the same pace as his overly enthusiastic friend as he hurried down the sidewalk.      

“She’s such a knockout, Steve! I’m sure she’ll love you.”     

Steve couldn’t help but blush at Bucky’s kind words, the hype always repairing some parts of Steve’s broken self-esteem and reminding him of his worth. But it was his third date this month and rejection was starting to seem like his favorite sport. No matter what he did - offering a girl some peanuts, accidentally stepping on her (once!) feet while dancing, or simply not living up to Bucky’s gracious advertising - women just weren’t interested.      

“You know that’s not true, Buck. Can’t we just have a quiet night in?”     

Bucky stopped and guided them into the nearby alley, both to knock some sense into his friend and to give Steve a break from the tiny jog.      

“Listen here, Steve. Any girl would be lucky to be with you-”     

“Buck, we’ve been through this-”     

“Let me finish,” Bucky shushed him, hands on Steve’s shoulders to steady both him and himself. “Any girl would be lucky to be with you. If this one doesn’t see you how I see you, then she’s just insane.”     

Steve smirked, “Don’t insult the girl before I’ve even met her, jerk.”     

Bucky smiled, his high cheeks pushing up to create crinkles by his eyes. “Trust me, pal. You just need to find a woman with as big of a mouth as you.”     

Steve swatted his friend across his chest, laughs rumbling in both their chests and down the once quiet alleyway.      

     “What hotel are you staying at?” Seda quickly asked, ignoring your quip. You were done with this conversation as it was leading nowhere.      

“Staying at one where no one can hear the Captain scramble my brains. Goodbye,” you replied, an annoyance in your tone that even Seda would believe as natural.      

“See you soon.”     

You let Seda end the call, a little power play you allowed him to have. God, it was gonna feel good to take him down.     

Steve shifted in his seat, stopping the recorder in time for his question. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Why did your dad assume we were a couple?”     

You gave him a tiny chuckle, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders and settling back into your seat. “I don’t know why that man says anything anymore. I guess they just expected it.”     

“Why?”     

No matter how many years passed, both awake or frozen, Steve never did quite understand the sexual appeal that lingered around his name. No matter how many times Bucky joked about it, no matter the amount of social media posts, no matter anything - he just didn’t seem to understand why people thought he was a ladies man. 

You snuggled deeper into your blanket, scanning the outside woods one last time just in case. “You wouldn’t risk your reputation and status for me unless you were fucking me, I guess.”

“Crude.”

You turned your head to him and sighed, “They think I’m the whore of the family. It’s just too funny sometimes.”

Steve’s face fell, “I’m sorry about that.”

You shuffled in your blanket to pull your arm out and wave it in the air.  “Used to it.” 

Steve didn’t press further, deciding to lay back finally to find a cozier position. It was quiet for a few minutes, just breathing and slight motion disturbing the silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the moonlight hitting the steering wheel. By the sound of Steve’s breathing, you knew he wasn’t fully asleep yet. So you allowed yourself the smallest confession, a crack in the door Steve was figuratively standing outside of.

“My sister is his prized possession, though.”

Steve didn’t respond, but from the sound of the blanket moving you could tell he had turned to face you. 

“Never knew why.”

Steve pondered your words for a long time, long after your breathing became slower and tiny snores left your mouth. He didn’t exactly know what to say or what to do. It wasn’t like you dropped top secret information on him or anything, but it made him wonder just why in the world your father hated you so much. 

You had done everything asked of you. You were controlled, tortured mentally everyday, having to endure and make decisions that Steve knew you didn’t want any part of. Your father should be thanking you for keeping his business afloat, for expanding it, for roping Steve’s own name into that life. As he contemplated any rational reason for such hate, he heard your soft snore turn into an innocent purr, and he felt himself leaning more into a mutual understanding. It frightened him, gripping his reality by the throat, because Steve actually knew why. That innocence he saw with you, no doubt had presented itself to your father involuntarily and your father knew. 

He knew you were good at heart. 

~

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 4

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break. 

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life 

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

If you were to be completely honest, you'd wanted to wear a dress you’d been allowed to keep after a photoshoot. However, it wasn't a good look for someone of your status to re-wear outfits, especially statement pieces. You couldn't remember who had designed it, but it had been mostly tulle and made you feel like a princess... all things that could not be used to describe what you were wearing now. For your dinner plans, you chose to wear a simple yet smart-looking bodycon dress, one that you were regretting as you stepped out of the car. You pulled at the hem from over the long coat you wore, conscious of the fact that there could potentially be paparazzi waiting to snap a photo of you from an unfortunate angle if you weren't paying close attention. Unlike American paparazzi, reporters here didn't flock at the entrances of exclusive clubs or restaurants, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"I won't need a ride home," you told Ichiro, who nodded stiffly and then shut the door of the car after you got out, “I can get a ride home."

You adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, aware that you looked out of place in the nightlife, and then walked to the doors of the hotel. A concierge opened the door to greet you and Ichiro, who trailed behind, scanning the area. "Welcome, Miss. Your party called ahead and made us aware of the arrangements to be made. You can follow me to the elevator, where I will escort you to your destination."

"Thank you," you said coolly, then took after them. While in the elevator, the concierge spoke nervously, emphasizing how much of an honor it was for someone like you to visit their establishment. You smiled politely, silently willing the elevator to reach the right floor faster.

A restaurant specializing in molecular gastronomy, Kuroo had explained to you on the phone the night before. He'd sounded probably the most excited you'd ever heard him. You had looked it up yourself after the call had ended. It was on the 29th floor of a luxurious hotel, one that you had never been to yourself. Only eight people max were allowed to dine in, and the chef made all of the food in front of you, four courses.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when the elevator finally dinged and the concierge guided you to the glass doors of the restaurant, where Ichiro recognized the occupants and left you alone to be greeted by Kuroo, Lev, his sister Alisa, and, surprisingly, Kenma. You took off your sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of your coat before that too was taken by a waitress, who calmly swept them away from you and into a closet, presumably.

"Hi, guys!" you gave a bright smile and then slipped into the empty seat in between Kenma and Alisa.

"We thought you might want to sit next to Alisa," Kenma explained quietly, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

You smiled again, settling into the chair. "Thanks," you nodded your head. "You look nice, too, Kenma! You're all dressed up!"

Kuroo leaned back to make eye contact with you, laughing. "He almost cancelled on dinner plans with us when he heard that he couldn't wear his sweatpants. He lives in sweatpants exclusively."

Kenma sighed, muttering under his breath, "Maybe I wouldn't if you didn't make a big deal about whenever I'm not." Only you heard his comment, since he was on the edge of the table, but you didn't have any time to reply because the head chef came out of the kitchen, accompanied by a couple of workers behind him, holding the ingredients.

One by one, each round of dishes came and went. Earlier, you'd been worried about wearing a bodycon dress because of the impending food baby you were sure to conceive, but with only dessert left, your stomach felt hardly filled with the sizes of the previous dishes. The process of making each one was mesmerizing to watch, and the flavor profile of each small bite was beyond anything you could have initially imagined when the plates were gently placed in front of you-

You watched the chef spoon generous amounts of black caviar onto the dish. Not dessert, you corrected yourself. Why did you assume to get a deconstructed piece of fried dough when they had called the dish "Donut"? You eyed the tweezers which carefully placed tiny, delicate flowers on top of the spread. A single waiter poured out flutes of champagne and then distributed them to you and your friends, the only noise in the room the fizzing of bubbles in your drink. In fact, the entire affair had been silent aside from the head chef, who explained each meal to your group.

Once the waiter and chef cleared the room, Lev was finally the brave soul to break the silence, who cleared his throat and then, turning to you, asked, "So Y/N, you're moving back home, huh? Is there anything to even do there?”

You knew Lev didn’t mean to say anything offensive, but it still stung a little. He was just blunt to a fault sometimes, you reminded yourself, instead giggling and sending some witty remark back at him which made everyone burst into laughter. You shivered a little, finished the last of your remaining champagne in one undignified gulp, then stared out at Tokyo's skyline, shining and glittering like stars. It was cold in the room, you decided. Ridiculously air-conditioned to the point where you would be glad when you got your coat back and could leave.

The rest of the get-together flew by, only spending a little longer in the restaurant before exiting into the lobby. Kuroo had agreed to drive you back to your apartment, since he'd taken his own car and hadn't drank a lot. Lev gave you a bear hug and told you he would miss you, and that he would try to visit if his modeling schedule worked out in favor of it, but he wasn't sure. Alisa also hugged you tightly, telling you to take care of yourself in the countryside, to which she wrinkled her nose at playfully. When it came to Kenma you refrained from a hug, knowing that he didn't like physical contact. He gave a small smile, appreciative. "I might visit sometime; we can play Animal Crossing."

Then, just like that, the three of them left, Lev and Alisa taking the same car and Kenma having a driver. Kuroo turned to you and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Ready to go?"

You nodded, following him to the front where a valet had already pulled Kuroo's car to the curb, waiting for the two of you. Once inside, you pressed your forehead to the cool window, your breath fogging up the glass. Kuroo made no comment, the only sound to be heard the traffic in the streets.

For what seemed like a few minutes later, you felt yourself being gently shaken awake. "Y/N?" Slowly, you roused, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You froze, sitting up. Shit, you'd had mascara on.

"Y/N?"

You turned to see Kuroo looking slightly concerned, but you just waved your hand at him. "I'm awake now. Thanks for the ride."

He stared at you, opened his mouth, then shut it promptly, stopping you from opening the car door. You rarely saw him speechless or without something to say. "What's wrong?" You frowned, trying to think of what could be worrying him or making him act like this.

Kuroo shook his head then leaned back in his seat. He scratched the back of his head and looked down. "I'm not sure how to say it, so I'm just going to say it." Immediately you felt dread in the pit of your stomach. Oh, god. Did he have, like, a middle-school crush on her? Was he tongue-tied? You did not want to lose one of your closest guy friends; plus, if you weren't friends with him anymore then you couldn't really be friends with Kenma-

"I'm worried about you, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself in Hyōgo, alright? You're there for a reason; to take a break." He ran a hand through his hair again, nervously. "You know what I'm saying? So just take care of yourself. Don't eat junk food all the time, it's not good for you. Also don't stay indoors all the time, it's good to get outside. You need to synthesize vitamin D," Kuroo rambled, "it's good for your skin, too-"

Finally you broke your silence, smiling and laughing at him. "Aw, Kuroo, you nerrrd," you socked him on the arm, evoking an 'ow' from him. "You're so sweet, what the hell? And don't worry, I'll be fine! I'm great at taking care of myself!" You gave him a thumbs up. When he looked at you dubiously, you added on, "Kaa-san and Tou-san don't live too far from where we used to live, so I can go to them if I need to, too." After a pause, more giggles bubbled out. "I thought- I was really scared that you liked me," you cackled, going into hysterics when he made a face. "I know, I know- I just got worried because I didn't know what you were going to say."

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "Uh, no, I don't like you. Not even platonically, after this," he grumbled, already getting into his theatrics. "I can't believe you're harassing me for caring. You're awful, Y/N!"

You opened your car door, still laughing. "Ok, ok, I'm awful, I'll admit it." You shut the door, and Kuroo rolled down the window.

"Whatever. Just make sure Osamu is driving safely. And text us when you get there. And," he levelled his gaze with yours, "do whatever you feel is best about Kita. Hopefully you take this break to sort through your feelings." Without giving you any time to retort something, Kuroo peeled off in his car, leaving you alone.

Quickly, you made your way into your apartment and finally took off your heels, leaving them near the entrance and sighing when you could walk flat-footed on the cool floor. Next you took off your coat and threw it on the couch, and instead of getting ready to sleep, jumped into your bed and face-planted into the pillows.

You fell asleep in less than five minutes.

You sent your Hyōgo address to Kenma and then flopped on your bed, accidentally banging your head on the headboard. “Fuck,” you hissed, clutching the back of your head. You sat there for a few moments, lamenting why you had to jump onto the bed and how the consequences of your action hurt so bad.

Then your stomach rumbled, begging to be filled, and you forgot everything you had been thinking about, making your way into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, peering in at the contents- or rather lack thereof. At least you didn’t have to worry about clearing your fridge by tonight, right?

Your stomach growled again as you shut the door, instead looking to the freezer. What did you have in there…? It slid open and you were glad to see that it wasn’t as empty as your fridge, rummaging through the frozen meals you had for a late-breakfast-early-lunch.

You pulled out a twelve pack of frozen gyoza and set it aside on the counter, pushing all of the other stuff back into the freezer. When you finally slid it shut again, you sighed in relief, and turned back to the food in question. You read the instructions on the back even though you were pretty sure it was easy to heat them up, and then turned the stove on. Pulling out a pot from your cabinet, you filled it with water and then set it on the stove, topping it with a lid to make the process faster.

Then you got to cleaning. Your apartment wasn’t all that messy since you didn’t spend a lot of time in it before going on hiatus, just a few stacks of paper filled with lyrics: some you’d tried working out, others hadn’t fit your two previous albums, but most you just didn’t like.

You checked on the pot of water to make sure it wasn’t boiling, and after seeing it wasn’t, you continued cleaning, moving into the kitchen once more. You scrubbed the plates and bowls you’d left in the sink for a couple days. Most of the stuff in the sink was silverware from eating takeout or having frozen meals, though.

When you heard and saw that the water was boiling, you added the gyoza and lowered the heat before going back to drying the dishes. By the time you were done with the task, your dumplings were ready, and so you turned off the stove and took the pot off. With a pair of chopsticks, you scooped up the gyoza and placed them onto a plate. You’d eat six and then leave the other half for dinner, you decided, putting them in a bento box for storage and then the fridge.

“Ah…” You sat down on the couch with your food and then turned on the TV, watching mindlessly and eating your gyoza one by one. After a couple of hours, you got up, washed and dried the dishes you’d just used, and then finally went to your room to pack.

Should you take all of your clothes with you? It’s not like you knew how long you were planning to stay in Hyōgo, so should you just pack everything, then? You opened up your closet all the way, clearing out the sections of your regular clothing and placing them on your bed. You turned back to your closet, now significantly emptier. All that was left were things you’d worn on tours or designer pieces you’d been allowed to keep. Most of them you could look at and remember the venues you’d worn them to; recall the quality of your performance and how big the crowd was. It would be pointless to take them with you, right? You couldn’t wear a custom Versace piece to the middle of nowhere.

You sighed and shut the closet door with a resounding thud, and then turned to face the monster pile of clothes you were going to try to fit into two large suitcases…

Ah shit, and you hadn’t even begun to think about shoes.

a/n: help the chapters keep getting longer even though i outline for this fic????? h o w

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen​, @duhsies, @succulentmom​​

some ~fun facts~ 

- lev and alisa are models, as in canon

-the food was served in test tubes and other scientist apparatuses LMAO (kuroo got really excited because he’s a chem nerd)

- i based the restaurant off of an actual one in japan but changed some things about it... so for legal reasons™️ all similarities are a coincidence 🧍‍♂️

- i hope y/n doesn’t sound whiny but i find molecular gastronomy to be super esoteric,,, reminds me of that bar scene in parks and rec lmao

- kenma tucks his sweatpants into his socks like the wrestlers at my old high school do... this is unfortunately also canon... 

- yaku couldn’t make it to the dinner event because he’s still in russia, playing volleyball there. he will be coming back to play for japan in the olympics!

- kuroo drives even though he drank a little... don’t do this

- kuroo is NOT interested in y/n romantically 

- i made two kita shirts with my friends during a haikyuu watch party we had… my favorite one got a little messed up and i’m sad 😃 edit: i fucking hate it here they got put in the dryer without my consent and now they’re both ruined ❤️

[diaphobic]

Laito Short Story

Tags: Uh, it’s pretty canon Laito, so perverted stuff & non con, it’s fairly violent too.

Synopsis: Laito’s new bride is a cunning one. He can’t seem to break her as easily as he does the others. Laito feels cornered by how perceptive she is.

Might continue with this if people enjoy it~

How many days had it been? She didn’t know. All she knew was that easy day felt longer than the last. Her body could barely support its own weight anymore. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she slowly lowered herself into the bath. She thought back to her nightstand and painted a mental image of how many scratches where on it. It had to be more than a dozen by now.. That’s how many days it’s been since she was taken.

‘He does the same stuff over and over.. It’s like he doesn’t ever get sick of it. He’s nearly addicted to it.. but what does he gain?’ She thought as she tipped her head back in the water and closed her eyes. The bath water rose over her ears as the sounds of the world began to distort.

‘The way he acts doesn’t add up it’s like he’s..’ Her thought was interrupted by a dull pain on her throat. Her eyes snapped open to see a knife pressed against her throat. She gulped so deeply that the blade moved with her throat.

“What do you want..?” She quietly spoke to the ‘unknown’ assailant. A familiar chuckle escaped Laito’s lips as he toyed with her throat. She held her body up using the sides of the bath so she didn’t slip into the knife. It was her life or her body. She had no choice but to leave herself exposed.

“Bitch-Chan~ You left yourself wide open yet again. It’s almost like you’re begging me to assault you, hm?” He said and removed the knife from her throat. She quickly sat up and turned around to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest. Her lower area was covered by the bubbles she had put in the bath.

“What do you get out of this?” She snapped. A fiery spirit isn’t easily snuffed out. Not even when faced with death. She knew he was unable to go through with it, so she didn’t really have anything left to lose.

“What, you ask?” Laito pondered over the question as he folded his arms, blade still in hand. He stared at the girl waiting for her to answer for him. Laito knew she wasn’t an idiot like he previously thought. He needs to defend himself now more than ever.

“....” She kept quiet and stared him down. Her teeth grit as she looked at him. He chuckled and tossed the knife aside. The sound of the knife hitting the floor was muffled by a splash. Laito nearly pounced on the girl in the bath. She bit back her screams to not please him. She’s well aware that’s what he wants. Nothing pisses her off more than giving him what he wants. The satisfaction of pissing Laito off was bitter sweet. What did she get out of it? It wasn’t happiness, that’s for sure.

“What should I do with you? You were being the bitch you are and enticing every guy that saw you.” Laito said and got real close to her ear. He flicked his lukewarm tongue over her ear lobe.

“Don’t delude yourself. You know damn well I didn’t—!!” Her sentence was cut off by Laito’s hand grabbing her throat. She quite literally choked on her words. His hand only tightened with each cough she let out.

“One.. Two.. Three..” Laito slowly began to count. “How many seconds does it take for the brain to die again? Why don’t you tell me..” Laito laughed as he looked at her bright red face. As he held his hand right around her throat, he bit into her neck. The pressure from the blood circulation being cut off made her blood gush.

“Aah.. Mmmhh.. Haah..” Laito panted out as he sucked her sweet red blood. She started to see stars as her blood and air were both taken. “You really are an idiot..” Laito said and let go of her throat. Her world began to go black as she slipped under the baths water before she could take another breath.

“Ah-ah.. too bad, Bitch-Chan~” Laito glared down at the air bubbles coming up from the water. He continued to count to ten. ‘Four.. Five.. Six..’

“What’s this?” Laito questioned himself before he tugged the nearly lifeless body of the girl out of the tub. She didn’t have the strength to cough anymore.

“Heavy-hoh!” He said and picked the soaked girl up. “I’m not quite finished with her yet.. your unconsciousness means nothing to me.” Laito said and tossed the girl on the bed. He sat besides her and pondered over what he should do. He laid beside her and thought to himself.

‘When did it all begin?’ He thought before quickly replacing that thought with a perverted one.

“Ah, she’ll make a great expression if I leave her marks all over..” Laito said and sat up with a great smile on his face. Laito denied the painful heat that welled up in the pit of his stomach. This is guilt desguised as pleasure. The familiar word ‘pleasure’ was practically meaningless at this point.

“Haah.. you truly are wonderful.. but it’s a shame to not see your expressions.” He said as he took his mouth off of her collar bone. He ran his fingers through her long, silky hair. With a click of his tongue he got up, leaving the nearly lifeless body on the bed.

Laito left the room feeling conflicted. He’s never had a girl that was so outwardly defiant in such a way. ‘She is a perplexing one, that one..’ He let a chuckle slip past his lips as he went into his room. His happiness turned to anger in a second. He shoved everything off his desk in one big sweep.

‘Damnit!’ He thought as he panted out. His fists grabbed at his hair as he grit his teeth. He can’t tell just how much she’s able to read him. The very thought is terrifying. How the hell is he supposed to deal with someone like her?

[next chapter]

[brokenbeskar]

Denial

Chapter One of Memories Reforged ( Din Djarin x F!Reader )

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: After crash landing on the planet of your next job, you learn another mysterious mandalorian bounty hunter is working the same contract as you and you decide to investigate.

Warnings: descriptions of blood and death, canon level violence, grief, there's a nightmare sequence but nothing crazy!

A/N: I’m super nervous to start posting this, but I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know if you find any mistakes or have any criticisms/advice! Theres a lot of mystery surrounding you for the first couple chapters, but I promise they will be explained soon enough! 

Everything around you is happening so rapidly, in flashes. Red, surrounding you, clouding everything around you... 

It’s blood. Blood--blood on your hands, you realize. Blood on the ground around you, on you--on everything. Your vision is so blurry you can barely make out the shapes around you. You’re sobbing, your chest aches, burning, smoke and ash in your lungs, you try to cry out but barely any sound comes through. A rushing in your ears so loud you can barely hear. 

You're desperately applying pressure beneath you, but the bleeding won’t stop. You beg and plead to the maker, the universe, whatever could possibly hear you, whatever could possibly help you, you're so desperate. you’re trembling, shaking so hard you can’t keep steady despite trying so hard to keep the pressure on the gushing wound beneath you... 

Another flash, you can’t see anything anymore, everything is too blurry, but you feel something brush up to your cheek, you lean into it. It’s comforting, but the burning in your chest only gets worse, your sobbing doesn't stop. The brush on your cheek is so tender, so precious, but so painful. So bittersweet... 

More red, another flash, and now a sound, cutting through the white noise that fills your ears--a steady beeping. Through your clouded vision you can barely make out the light flashing on the bomb that's been set to detonate in his hand. You press your forehead to something cold, and you squeeze your eyes shut, blackness engulfing your vision, only the faint blinking of the light shining through your eyelids...

 Suddenly, everything is crystal clear. The feeling of his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you tighter against the cool metal of his helmet, the warmth of the blood gushing out of the wound you are still so desperately applying pressure to, and when you open your burning, sobbing eyes, the crystal clear reflection of the bomb blinking in the corner of his visor. The light growing brighter, and the beeping growing faster, louder, and louder---so LOUD-- You shoot up with a sharp gasp in your seat, absolute panic still consuming you, the beeping from the bomb still going off rapidly--no...you realize suddenly. The beeping from the cockpit of your ship, you're dropping out of hyperspace. 

You’re shivering, covered in a cold sweat, things slowly starting to come back to you. It was another nightmare. You must have fallen asleep while you were still in hyperspace. You glance over to the helmet in the copilot seat next to you, the familiar visor staring at you, hollow. The stars reflecting off the tint of it, and the beat up, once glossy copper accents framing it. You try to get your breathing under control while you shakily take hold of the ship's controls, flicking off the alarm and getting ready to break through the atmosphere of the planet thats suddenly in front of you.

 This is going to be rough. This ship, if you can even call it that, is a piece of shit. It’s barely holding together, you were shocked it was even able to make the jump into hyperspace in the first place. It's trembling dramatically under you, as you try to hold her steady while you descend. 

“Talk about a bumpy ride,” you barely mutter to yourself through gritted teeth as you struggle against the violent rattling of the hunk of metal surrounding you, suddenly very thankful you were already buckled in. Suddenly the whole ship lurches violently despite your firm hold on the controls as you break into the atmosphere, and alarms start blaring deafeningly throughout the cockpit, the ship is barely holding together at this point. You clench your jaw tight, this is going to be a rough landing. Another violent jerk of the ship and you feel something big break off. You can’t even begin to think about what it is though, because you are quickly losing control entirely. You are descending much too fast, and there's nothing you can do about it. Alarms blaring in your ears as you try to make this the softest crash landing possible. The sandy surface of this planet is coming quick, until it's all you can see. You violently collide with the ground, you can't see anything, sand shoots up all around the ship blinding you. You had tried to hit a good angle coming down, but your ship slides through the sand, bounces back up, and rolls twice. You get roughly knocked around in your seat and you wack your head pretty hard on the dashboard in the collision, you black out. 

You groan, slowly coming to, clutching the sore spot on the side of your head while you try to collect yourself. Maker, it HURTS, you can feel the pulsing behind your eyes and you’re seeing stars, your vision blurry from the impact. You shakily undo your seatbelt, and try to lift from your seat, hand still clutching the side of your head. Everything on you hurts, you know you’re going to be covered head to toe in bruises despite being buckled in the whole time. You tap the nav console in the center of the dashboard, but nothing, unresponsive. The whole ship has gone completely dead. No more flashing lights and blaring alarms. Just the slight groaning of the metal struggling to stay together after the crash. 

“Well fuck…” you sigh out, but then the dread and anger hit you all at once. A pit pooling in your stomach and rising up tight in your chest like an inferno, You had scrounged together every last credit you had for this piece of shit, and now it's absolutely trashed. It would cost you more than its worth in repairs, if it can even be repaired. You would bet all your remaining credits it was far beyond saving. You violently slam your fist down into the control panel, cursing loudly into the cockpit. You needed this ship, badly. How were you supposed to collect bounties without it? How could you afford a new one? You bang your fist into the control panel again, then slump down defeatedly back into the pilot's seat, resting your elbows on the edge of the control panel and leaning forward to burying your head in your hands. 

You take a deep breath in and run one of your hands through the hair framing your face as you lean back in the seat and let the same breath out. You turn your head slightly to look over to the copilot's seat, but you shoot back up to your feet when you find the seat is empty. Your heart is racing again. Where is it? Where did it go? You frantically scan the floor of the cockpit, desperately looking for even the smallest glimpse of it. When you finally catch sight of the familiar hunk of metal in the far corner, you rush over and drop to your knees next to it. You carefully pick up the heavy beskar helmet and rotate it so the familiar T of the visor is staring empty at you. You breath out heavily as you press your forehead to it, clutching it so tightly in your hands. You pull away to inspect for any damage--well any new damage at least. The helmet was in bad shape. It had a couple dents and gashes in it, the paint that once coated it so beautifully now chipped and worn, the small crack in the corner of the visor catching the light. You sigh at it, realizing you probably wouldn't even be able to tell what's new and what's not at this point. 

“Well,” you breath out to the helmet as if it could hear you, “no point in wallowing, right?” You stand from where you were kneeling on the floor, tucking the helmet under your arm. “We’ve got a bounty to catch.” And with that you step into the hull of the ship, trying your best to ignore the mess caused from the crash, all of your belongings thrown about and scattered unceremoniously throughout it. You find your go bag and sling it over your shoulder. Then head to the exit ramp to leave, but pausing before you step out into the sandy environment to slowly slide the helmet from under your arm, over your head, with a click.

--------------------------------- 

You hate desert planets. You're burning up under your bulky beskar. It barely fits you, so you have to bulk up under it to make sure it stays on properly. It doesn't look as awkward as it feels, and no one can tell how much you're sweating under the helmet, but maker, you’re miserable. With every step you can feel the soreness lingering from the crash earlier. It was quite a walk to the nearest settlement. You’re in some kind of marketplace. It’s bustling and busy, vendors lining the sand covered streets selling all kinds of wares, a lot of it junk. 

You’re in a terrible mood. Between crash landing your one and only ship, the heat of this planet baking you alive under your armor, and the sand that you can feel working its way uncomfortably into your boots, you’re seething with anger. You swear it would only take one local giving you the wrong look for you to snap and break their neck with your bare hands alone. You bet it shows in the way your walking, you're used to people staring at this point, it comes with wearing beskar, but the way people are quickly stumbling to get out of your way as you angrily stride through the streets, crowds parting for you so you can pass, you know you probably seem more intimidating than usual.

Stepping into the nearby cantina, is instant relief. It’s much cooler in here, but you try not to relax too much and lose that power in your stance as you enter. Something feels off, when you notice the reactions in the bar. The stares and hushed whispering were normal to you, but something about it was different this time. Maybe the heat was getting to your head. You stride over to the bar and silently take a seat. The patron in the seat next to yours, quickly gets up to move away from you, and you don’t even bother to look in his direction. 

The bartender in front of you, polishing glasses speaks before you get the chance, “Let me guess, you want information on the bomber.” You tilt your visor up to him a bit surprised. How did he know? “You’re friend already came by, I told him everything I knew, I’ve got nothing else for you.” Now you’re really confused. You cock your helmet slightly to the side quizzically without saying a word. Friend? You don’t have any friends. And definitely not any you would be working on a bounty with. Not anymore at least. The bartender seems to catch your confusion so he continues, “The other mandalorian.” Other mandalorian? There was a mandalorian here hunting your bounty? when you don't move he elaborates, “The big one, uh you know--real shiny guy, all chrome and whatnot…” the bartender trails off not knowing how else to describe him. Well, that's surely interesting. Suddenly you decide maybe you need to investigate this...shiny mandalorian. You nod at the bartender as a quiet thank you as you rise silently from your seat at the bar. You toss a couple credits onto the counter for the information, even if it's not what you were initially looking for. The bartender at the sight of the credits points you in the direction of where he had seen this mysterious mandalorian head off to, likely understanding now, that the two of you were most likely indeed, not friends. 

It doesn’t take long to spot him. He must have just left the cantina not too long before you arrived, he was close by, and the reflective beskar stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd that was parting for him in the same way it had for you. You kept your distance, keeping out of sight but trailing behind just enough that you wouldn't lose him. You knew damn well, that he probably knew you were following him, any truly skilled bounty hunter would realize that fact, let alone a mandalorian. Your theory was proved correct when he suddenly took a turn and dipped into an alleyway. You weren’t trying to sneak up on him, but you still kept your distance, turning the same corner and following him until you lost the crowd completely. The both of you walking to a part of town with no one, the bustling of the marketplace becoming faded white nose in the background. He makes a few more turns and you follow a few feet behind, until you go to turn the next corner and he's gone, no longer in front of you. 

But you’re no fool, in a flash you whip around behind you, your blaster unholstered and pointed straight in front of you. He’s standing there, his own blaster mirroring yours. You both stand there, perfectly still, unmoving, blasters pointed to each other, fingers on their respective triggers. He speaks first, “Why are you following me?” but he doesn't move an inch “Why are you hunting my bounty?” you quip back. Making sure to stress the fact that this is your bounty, not his. You need those credits, you can’t afford to let them slip away from you when you have no way off this sandy shithole. 

He tilts his visor at you slightly but doesn't reply. So you continue, “The bomber is mine, I suggest you find someone else to hunt down. I’ve got this one handled.” and by that, you mean if he does anything to compromise your ability to collect this quarry, you won't hesitate to kill him too, and you know he knows it...doesn’t he? The mysterious mandalorian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a muscle and neither do you. The silence between the two of you carries a tension just as deadly as the blasters you have pointed at each other. 

With him standing in front of you like this, you’re able to get a better look at him. You look with only your eyes, careful not to move your head at all, as to not give him any indication you’re looking anywhere other than his visor, which is staring deadpan into yours. The bartender wasn’t exaggerating when he said this strange mandalorian was shiny and chrome. His beskar armor is unpainted, and beautiful, not a single flaw. You’ve never seen anything like it before. Whoever forged that for him was truly skilled in their craft.

“Your beskar,” You suddenly nod in his direction after the silence drags out far too long, “it’s new.” He still doesn't say anything. He’s giving you nothing. You’ve been doing this job awhile, there's usually something you can pull from, a slight change in breathing, tensing on the shoulders, anything to know what your enemy’s intentions are, but him....he's giving you nothing. “I’m looking for a forge master.” You hope by elaborating, you make your own intentions clearer. 

“An Armorer?” he questions, and you nod once slowly. “Don’t have one in your clan?” He tilts his visor at you in inquiry, and you slowly shake your head once.

“I have no clan,” and you can sense his confusion so you continue, “I’m no mandalorian.” you confess, and instantly his blaster arm straightens and you hear the click of his safety switch off. You expected nothing less.

“Beskar belongs to the mandalorians. Hand it over.” His voice is dark and firm in his demands, but you can't help but scoff. 

“I may not be a mandalorian, but this armor is mine.” your voice darkens threateningly, “It belonged to someone very important to me, passed down in their family for multiple generations. They’re gone, so now it's mine and I will die defending this armor in their honor.” “Did you inherit it from your father?” his voice through the modulator is firm, unwavering, and when you shake your head, he tries again, “Your mother?” You shake your head again. “Then it’s not yours, take it off...or I will” he threatens taking a step forward.

You take that step forward as an attack in itself, there's no way in hell anyone will take this armor from you, you quickly lunge towards him in a flash and he goes for you. You go to grab for his blaster, but at the same time he grabs yours and next thing you know, both your blasters are skittering across the sand in opposite directions. You both snap your gaze back and your visors meet each other, pausing for just a second before you're immediately swinging in his direction, aiming directly for his unarmored throat. He catches your fist, and swings with his free hand, you duck expertly out of the way and knee him right in the gut below the beskar chest plate. He doubles over, but manages to kick out one of your ankles causing you to stumble, and he goes for another swing. You jump back the best you can, and punch him perfectly in his unarmored side. He groans loudly at the impact, and stumbles back, but then before you know it, he gets you right back, and then again, his beskar fist colliding with the side of your helmet. It knocks you to the ground, your vision blurs again reminding you of your earlier injury from the crash. You shake your head and try to regain your footing, but he lunges down to grab you. You both struggle on the sandy ground before you get a hold of one of his arms and kick him up with both feet, hauling him over you, so he lands roughly on his back behind you. 

He scrambles to get up, but you’re too quick, you’re on top of him pressing the mouth of his own blaster under his jaw. He doesn’t move and the only thing that can be heard is the rough modulated breathing of the two of you through your helmets. He moves the slightest amount, you're not sure if it's to adjust or to try to get up but you won’t risk it. You press his blaster farther to the underside of his jaw and click the safety off, a threat you think he understands well. You will absolutely not hesitate to kill him if he makes a wrong move. You’ve had a bad day, blowing a hole through his head would be the first good thing to happen to you, but at the same time, he clearly knows where to find what you're looking for and you want to get that information from him before you kill him. 

“The armor is mine,” you say gruffly through your heavy breathing. You nudge the blaster into him again, just to make sure you’re being clear, “and if you, or anyone so much as lays a finger on it, I will kill you.” He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move an inch. Neither do you. 

Instantly heat blasts against the side of you, and white noise erupts in your ears, a powerful force sends the both you flying sideways and slamming into the wall of the other building next to you, smoke and sand fly up and surround the air around you. You’re groaning as you slowly try to pick yourself up off the sandy floor, the heat from the fire building next to you quickly heating up your armor. It takes you a second to realize what's going on. The bomber. You had almost forgotten about your bounty, you were so transfixed on the strange mandalorian next to you, grunts coming from his modulator as he struggles to his feet. There's another explosion next to you and you try to keep steady scanning with your visor through the smoke to see if you can catch a glimpse of your quarry--and there! It's quick, but unmistakable as you see his heat signature duck away behind the roof of a neighboring building.

“Stay out of my way.” you spit darkly at the rival mandalorian, before turning and breaking into a sprint in the direction of your bounty. 

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to him. You're running through the alley beneath the cloaked bomber while he jumps from roof to roof above you, desperately trying to shake you off his tail. He throws explosives in your direction, but you evade them expertly, bursting through the clouds of smoke and sand just when he thinks he's gotten you. He thinks he's being smart when he decides to throw another explosive ahead of you this time, blocking the rest of the alley with rubble from the surrounding buildings as their walls crumble. He lets out a loud and victorious laugh as he continues to run, celebrating far too early, not realizing he's made a critical error. 

Instead of the rubble halting you in your pursuit, you use it to your advantage, nimbly leaping off a large piece and hauling yourself into the roof. Now that you're level with him, and off the maker forsaken sand, you start gaining on him, quick. He looks back in horror at you and tries to speed up, but you both know it's futile. You would have shot him already, but you left your blaster in the sand, forgetting to pick it up after the explosion, so you have to use other means. You grip the vibroblade strapped to your thigh and unsheath it. You’re just about to lunge for him, grab him and pull him to the ground, but something hits him and he drops instantly onto the roof below him. 

You come to a screeching halt, almost tripping over his body. What the hell happened to him? You look down at him, convulsing on the floor, he's been stunned, quite literally electrified. You immediately know who's responsible and angrily look up to see that damned shiny mandalorian a few roofs away, lower his rifle and start to stride across to you. The sun reflecting off the top of his helmet in such an irritating way. 

“I told you to stay out of my way!” you shout in his direction, “This is MY bounty! I’ve got it handled!” you grab a pair of cuffs off your belt and drop to your knees to cuff the bastard below you roughly despite his lack of resistance. 

“You were too slow.” he says matter-of-factly as he approaches you. Oh you could kill him, you're tempted. The fact that he not only had the audacity to take down your bounty, but now dares to mock you? It would be an absolute pleasure to sink your blade into his neck. 

Your thoughts are cut short when a gloved hand holds your blaster down to you. You look at it in confusion, then tilt your helmet to look up at the reflective beskar staring down at you. He nods towards you and nudges the blaster towards you again. You snatch it from his grip and put it in your holster without a word, and haul yourself up onto your feet with the bounty. Keeping a firm grip on his cuffed wrists behind his back while he struggles to hold himself up, “Bounty is mine.” you remind him, your visor burning a hole through his with how intensely you stare. 

“I shot him down,” he reminds you. 

“I had it handled,” you shoot back at him. Suddenly you’re curious, and you have an idea. You tilt your helmet up at him, if this works, you might have a solution to your crash landing earlier. “How much are they offering you? For the bounty.” He doesn't answer, you assume it's because he doesn’t trust you, so you offer your commission price readily, “Mines ten thousand.” with the way his visor snaps straight ahead in response, you know you have him beat. Probably by a lot. “I’ll tell you what,” you continue, “let's split the reward.” He cocks his helmet to the side in surprise...or possibly confusion? Maybe both. You can't really tell. So you repeat yourself, “let's split the reward. Five thousand between the two of us.” 

“What's the catch?" Well, it’s not a no, so far so good.

“I need a ride,” you admit with a modulated sigh running through your helmet, “I had a bit of a rough landing. My ship’s scrapped." 

"Five thousand credits isn't enough for a ship."

"That's not your problem. We'll part ways after we split the credits. We got a deal or not?" 

"Only if you hand over that beskar when we split the credits." 

you pretend to mull it over in your head, but you know that nothing in the universe could possibly convince you to give up your armor. you will die with it, and even in death you will take it to your grave.

"I'll consider it." you say finally. you know it's not what he wants to hear, but you hope it will be enough. 

"Then it's a deal." He nods and doesn't say anything more, just starts walking in what you assume is the direction of his ship, so you kick the heels of the bounty you're still holding up by the cuffs. 

"Move it." you snap at him and start pushing him forward as you follow the silver armor ahead of you. the bounty is still barely hanging onto consciousness, dragging his feet, you're doing most of the work for him. 

Then suddenly the bounty stops all together like dead weight, digging his heels in, refusing to budge. 

"I said move it!" you nudge him again roughly, more aggressive this time, but the bomber doesn't comply. His shoulders start shaking, rumbling beneath you, it takes you a second to realize he's laughing. "what's so funny?" you jostle him lightly to encourage a response. and at that, he throws his head back and starts laughing maniacally. That shock bolt from earlier must have done something to him, fried his brain or something. He just keeps laughing, like he can't control it. the mandalorian in front of you has stopped walking, and turned back around to you and the bounty to investigate the commotion. 

"You're too late" the bounty spits out darkly between laughs, and he roars out louder, finding whatever it is he's going on about absolutely hysterical. 

"What are you talking about? you roughly yank him around to face you and his laughing subsides leaving a sickening smile ripping across his face. He cranes his neck to look back at the bustling marketplace and begins roaring with laughter once again. but he's cut off at the sound of multiple pieces of metal hitting the tile of the roof in front of him. 

"Talking about these?" the mandalorian asks, tossing another destroyed detonator bomb to the bounty’s feet. and the bomber looks at the pile horrified. it doesn't take long for you to put two and two together. This shiny mandalorian must have caught onto the bomber's plan early on and found all the hidden explosives long before you ran into him.  

The bomber continues to stare down at the destroyed explosives in distress, realizing his plan failed, before that same sickening smile breaks out across his face and he chuckles out, “You missed one.” 

He bursts back into a horrible laughter, and you suddenly have a pit in your stomach at the sound of it, you yank the bounty roughly by the neck, “Where is it?” your voice is rough and threatening, but he just continues to laugh maniacally. You can’t take it, todays been too much and his horrible laughter pushes you over the edge. Still grasping at his throat, you slam your armored fist hard straight into the center of his face, cutting his laughter off all together. He hangs his head limply, blood dripping down from his mouth, where his disgusting smile once was. “Where is it?” you grit out, pulling him in close to your visor with your grip tightening around his throat. 

The bounty in your grip lifts his head just enough so his gaze meets your visor, and he smiles again brokenly, blood continuing to drop down from the middle of it. “Who knows?” he shrugs. Then spits blood at your visor, chuckling again weakly at you. Your veins turn to ice at the blatant disrespect and you can’t help yourself. You slam your fist into him again, harder this time, sending him flying to the ground at your feet, unmoving, out cold from your attack. Your stare lingers on the bloodied bounty beneath you too long, violence swirling through you. How dare he--how fucking dare he disrespect the armor like that--how dare he disrespect him like that. 

Your fists clench at your sides, as you try to calm yourself. Your helmet snaps to the chrome mandalorian besides you, his visor shamelessly staring directly at you. You wonder if he can sense the anger whirling inside of you. “Where did you find the others?” You manage to grit out through your tight jaw. “The explosives.” Everything about you is rigid and tense from the altercation.

“At vendor tables he was harassing a few days ago, after the first bombing at a neighboring settlement. I checked all of them.” The chrome helmet doesn't move its gaze off of you. He's standing statuesque, unmoving. You look back to the bomber still unconscious on the floor. You’re trying to rack your brain, think where the last explosive could possibly be. You haven't even had the chance to investigate anything yet, you didn’t even get a chance to gather information, you immediately ended up tangled up with the strange mandalorian next to you when you made it into town. That’s when it hits you--the cantina. “Did you check the cantina?” you snap your visor to meet his again, and he shakes his head. “Keep an eye on him,” you nudge the bounty on the floor with your foot, then take off in the direction of the bar without another word. You have to be quick, you don’t know how much time is left until the bomb detonates and kills everyone in that cantina. 

The bartender greets you when you rush in, “Ah! Your back! Did you find your friend?” but you ignore him, you don't have time for pleasantries. You start scanning the entirety of the bar rapidly, looking for any sign of anything unusual. You don’t even know where to begin, patrons staring at you and murmuring to each other while you silently search around--but then you hear it. The faintest of noises barely cutting through the hum of the scene around you. You follow the sound of the achingly familiar beeping, it's at the bar, close to where you sat earlier today. The bartender mistakenly thinks you’re walking over to him directly, and panics at the way you’re striding over in his direction, with purpose. “H-hey, listen-- I don’t know what I did, but i'm sure we can work something out--there's no need for any un--unnecessary violence...,” he backs up nervously, his hands out in front of him trying to show he's unarmed and willingly surrendering. 

You continue to ignore him, and he swallows audibly as you make it to the edge of the bar, but you immediately drop down to reach below it, snatching the blinking explosive from where it's stuck under the bar and rising back up, holding it in your hand. He stares at you--stunned. Now realizing what your intentions were as you toss the explosive to the ground and crush it with your boot. The light fades from within the device and you pick it back up, staring at the cracked device in your hand. Your mind wanders for just a second as you remember your nightmare from earlier, the painful memory that still haunts your dreams. The environment of the cantina fading entirely until it's just you, and the broken metal in your hand. You swear you can almost still see the faintest of light blinking from inside it. 

“Thank you.” you snap back to reality at the bartender's words, suddenly realizing where you are. You nod at him once accepting his gratitude. “Drinks are on me--always! Forever! Anything you want, you can have, I owe you that much…” he fades off looking down to the destroyed explosive in your hand. You smile at him, knowing he can't see it, and nod again. 

You’re about to reply, but the bartender cuts you off, looking behind you, “Ah! I see you found your friend!” You turn to look towards the entrance of the cantina, where you find the shiny and chrome mandalorian standing, the unconscious bounty slung over his shoulder, while his visor is staring at you. You hold up the destroyed piece of metal in your hand for him to see, and at that, he's already turning to head out. You go to follow him, but stop when you hear the bartender start to speak again, “Maker,” he breathes out, “I’ve heard stories of mandalorians before. Never thought I would see one in person--let alone two!” he chuckles to himself.

You turn your helmet in his direction over your shoulder without turning fully towards him, “I’m no mandalorian...” your voice ringing through the modulator at an audible volume, despite how quietly you feel you say it. You don’t wait for a response, you immediately continue your way outside of the cantina to catch up to the stranger carrying your bounty ahead of you. 

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

When you finally arrive at his ship, just on the outskirts of town, you’re a little surprised to see his ship isn’t much nicer than yours was. It’s old and worn down. It looks like it's been abused to no end. “Are you sure you’re able to give me a ride? She doesn’t look like she would last the journey through the atmosphere…” “Where’s your wreck? We’ll stop by so you can grab what you need.” You know he ignored your question on purpose, and he hits a button on his vambrace, which triggers the slow lowering of the ship's ramp, kicking up sand around it. 

“I’ll punch the coordinates into your nav comp. Just get that asshole in carbonite.” You’re already climbing up the ramp to his ship, not waiting for an invitation, and walking into the dark of the ship's hull, its armored owner following close behind you, your bounty still slung over his shoulder unconscious. You take a quick look around as the ramp closes behind the two of you, dim lights illuminating the space. It’s not big by any means. You make note of all the crates and other miscellaneous goods neatly tucked around the hull’s nooks and crannies, it’s surprisingly cozy. 

While the mandalorian moves past you towards the carbonite chamber, you take that as your sign, and you make your way up the ladder of what you assume to be the cockpit of the ship. Opening the door once you make it to the top and stepping inside, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the control panel. It’s familiar enough, thank the maker. With how old the ship is you were expecting the controls to be unrecognizable and ancient, but you could pilot this. Easy. You step up to the navigation panel and punch in the coordinates of your wreck. 

You go to sit in the pilot's seat and initiate for takeoff, but stop suddenly. This isn’t your ship, you should wait for him. You’re going to be stuck with this stranger of a mandalorian in hyperspace for an unknown amount of time, you don’t want to overstep and cause another scuffle. He's, unfortunately, your only way off this planet, and he's got your bounty. You should be considerate seeing as you’re a guest, and he's doing you a favor. A five thousand credit taxi ride...maker what a shitty deal you negotiated yourself into.

 You settle into the copilots seat, and groan slightly as you sink into it. The soreness from the crash earlier is starting to settle in now that all your adrenaline from the day has worn off. Your glaring headache is becoming more and more unbearable. You reach up and, with a click and a hiss of the release, slide your helmet off your head and rest it in your lap. You breathe in deeply, maker...nothing beats the initial hit of fresh air when your helmet comes off. You lean back further in your seat trying to relax against the plush, worn leather seat. Everything aches, you're exhausted. You close your eyes and continue to breathe deeply as you enjoy the feeling of air hitting your face without your helmet. You don’t even hear the door to the cockpit slide open while you take a moment to relax. 

He says something, as he approaches behind you, but you didn’t quite catch what it was, so you spin in your chair to face him, “Sorry,” you shake your head slightly, “I was zoning out, what was that?” but he doesn't say anything or move. The armored wall of a man looks frozen, tense, his body language is all rigid and weird compared to how he usually stands. You just stare back at him confused. Is there something outside? You look behind you and out the windows of the cockpit, feeling your hair brush against you at the movement. Nothing there. You turn back to him, “Uhh? Everything okay, shiny?” He continues to stand there staring at you, stiff as a board, before he suddenly looks away from you and makes his way to the pilots seat, sitting down without a word and initiating for take off. 

What the kriff was that about? You continue to stare at him confused, hoping for an explanation, but he continues flicking the controls and grabbing hold of the thrusters to take off without a word. You know he's focused on flying, but at the same time, it's really starting to feel like he's purposely avoiding looking anywhere in your direction. You can’t help the way you tilt your head at him in suspicion, but you decide to let it go. You just met the guy, he doesn't owe you anything other than the ride you agreed on. But maker, is it going to bother you the whole time. 

You ride the rest of the way to your ship in silence, luckily it's not too far and you make it there relatively quickly. The second his ship touches the sand next to yours, you jump out of your seat tucking your helmet under your arm. “I’ll be quick. I don’t have much.” you wait a second for a response, but he’s still avoiding looking at you, and doesn't say anything. You tilt your head at him again with growing suspicion, but head out regardless without another word. 

Stepping back onto your trashed ship feels surreal. Looking at all your belongings scattered around and trying to decide what to take is upsetting. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, having to leave behind the majority of your belongings and start over, but it never gets easier. You pack mostly practical things, the essentials: clothes, medical supplies, rations, whatever weapons you have. You figure you should probably bring your blanket, you aren’t quite sure how long your journey will be and hyperspace is cold. 

When you head over to your cot however, your gut wrenches seeing what you still had of his things scattered throughout the space. The old box you kept some sentimental items in had spilled, scattering the contents across your bed. Some of his old clothes, a crumpled note he left you once, you chuckle lightly to yourself at the memory of it. A necklace, he got it for you as a gift on Coruscant. You pick up his old sleep shirt that's bundled up in the corner and bring it up to your face, taking a deep inhale. It still smells like him. Despite sleeping with it every night, his scent still clings to the material. It's faint, not as strong as it once was, but it's there. Your heart aches, not a day goes by that you don’t miss him. You gingerly and lovingly fold it up neatly and pack it away with the rest of the belongings you plan to take with you. 

You haul the large bags of your belongings over your shoulder, off your own ship and carry them up the ramp of the stranger mandalorian’s ship. You hit the control panel on the wall once you're inside, closing the ramp behind you. You set your things down in an unoccupied corner and make your way back up to the cockpit, helmet still under your arm. When you enter the cockpit however, you pause. 

There’s a strange cooing coming from the pilot's seat where the mandalorian is sitting. Was...was that sound coming from him? There’s no way. You slowly make your way over so you can peer over his shoulder, you gasp at the sight of the green creature bundled up in his lap. It’s big dark eyes staring into yours. “What is that thing?” you mutter out, barely able to squeeze the words out as you stare at it curiously. 

“A child.” You furrow your brows together at his answer. Well no shit. That was clearly a baby, but not like any baby you’ve ever seen. You don't recognize its species. Let alone the mystery as to why the mandalorian in front of you has it in his possession. “Is it...yours?” you're not quite sure how to vocalize all of the questions running through your head. Is the mandalorian the same mysterious species under that beskar? How has he managed hunting bounties with a youngling on board? 

“For now.” You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. You slowly lower yourself into the copilot’s seat, not once removing your gaze from the green baby in his arms.

“And that means?” You tilt your head and the baby mirrors you, cooing at you.

“He is mine until I can reunite him with his own kind. I’m looking for a jedi to take him on.” the baby reaches out to you babbling happily. You go to hold him, reaching out to take him from the mandalorian’s arms, but stop in an instant when his visor suddenly snaps up to look at you. He's doing that thing again, just staring at you intensely. You decide to ignore it, more transfixed by the baby. “May I?” you tilt your hands still outstretched in front of you, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that he still doesn't trust you. He just met you, another bounty hunter, and now you're asking to hold his baby. Much to your surprise however, he allows it and cautiously hands the baby to you, his visor never moving from your face.

The baby coos happily and reaches up to you as you pull him to your armored chest. He’s adorable, the way his little teeth poke through his smile, it swells through your chest. Oh he is absolutely precious. You wiggle your finger at him and he latches his tiny green ones around it. You haven't even noticed the mandalorian still staring at you. “Does he have a name?” you press your finger lightly to the baby's nose and his little green smile grows larger as he giggles in response. You can feel yourself smiling too, you can't help it, it's contagious. 

“Grogu.” You can still feel his visor on your when he replies. “Little Grogu…” you repeat softly, stoking the baby’s cheek. His big ears perking up at the sound of his name. He reaches up with his little fingers, so you hold him up a little higher against your chest, and he grabs onto a piece of your hair. You chuckle lightly at how captivated he is by you, in the same way you are with him. “He’s adorable.” you finally break your gaze from the baby in your arms, looking up to the shiny wall of beskar sitting next to you. Your smile fades into a frown when you see he's still staring at you. Okay, this is getting weird. “What's your deal?” you snap out at him, the baby still babbling away in your arms, his little hands reaching out to touch your face and hair. “Why are you staring at me like that? We got a problem?” 

The mandalorian quickly averts his gaze to the control panel, and begins initiating take off again, punching coordinates into the navigation. “No, sorry.” He mutters, barely audible through the helmets modulator.

“Then what is it? Is there something on my face?” and with that he pauses. Stops flicking switches for just a second too long, before continuing. “No.” He grabs a hold of the thrusters and pulls back, lifting the ship off the ground, and taking off. Maker, his responses are so--frustrating. Absolutely infuriating. How many more questions do you have to ask before you get to the bottom of this? You decide to give up again, it’s not worth your efforts. Let him be difficult if he wants, you’ll forget about him soon enough when you part ways. You turn your attention back to Grogu, immediately your irritation dissolves into nothing. Maker, you’ve only held this child in your arms maybe five minutes and you are already absolutely enamored with him. 

By the time you make the jump into hyperspace, the child has fallen asleep soundly in your arms. The mandalorian stands, and carefully takes him from you, descending the ladder into the hull with him to put him to bed, you assume. Now that you're alone in the cockpit, you look down to the helmet in your lap with a sigh. You grasp onto it lightly and tilt it up to stare into the visor. You reflect on your day; the crash, the scuffle with the strange mandalorian, the rush of trying to find the last bomb your bounty hid. Nothing ever goes smoothly for you anymore. Everyday feels like a struggle now that he's gone. It's been over a year since he died--almost two, you realize suddenly. The nightmares still plague you almost every night. You clench your eyes shut, and shake your head lightly trying not to think about any part of that horrible day. You should have died with him--you were supposed to. Whatever kind of sick joke the maker was playing, saving you and not him, you’ll never understand. You flutter your eyes back open, another sad sigh escaping your lips, as you stare back into the familiar visor. The smear of stars through hyperspace reflecting off of it. Hollow...empty. You gently hold the beskar up in your hands, and lean forward to press your forehead into it, taking a deep breath as you do so. 

You gasp lightly when you hear the cockpit doors open, and pull away from the helmet in your hands as the new and mysterious mandalorian you just met enters and resumes his seat in his respective chair. You’re suddenly embarrassed, hoping he didn’t see that. Such a personal and intimate moment you don't want to be witnessed by anyone, let alone someone you just met... and quite frankly don’t like. You relax slightly after a moment of silence, and lean back into your seat, resting your aching body against the back of it, closing your eyes against the streaks of light coming through the window. 

“Who did it belong to?” His modulated voice ringing out through the silence catches you off guard. 

“Hmm?” you open your eyes and turn your head slightly against the back of your seat to face him. He hasn't moved his gaze from the cockpit window. 

“Your armor. You said it belonged to someone important to you.” You suddenly get the feeling he definitely saw you earlier, when you had your forehead to the helmet in your lap, and you tense a bit. You’re just staring up at him cautiously, uncertain if you can trust him. 

You’re quiet for too long before you let out the softest of sighs and take another deep breath in, “Maybe another time...” is all you can manage. You’re not sure why, but the idea of telling him seems impossible. It's not a secret by any means, you haven't hesitated to tell anyone before. Maybe it’s because you're not sure you can trust him, or simply the fact that you don’t like him. Maybe it’s because he's a mandalorian... 

It's probably all of those reasons and more, all mixed up. It doesn't really matter, there's no reason for him to know. You will be parting ways with this mysterious mandalorian soon enough. Thankfully he doesn’t press the issue. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. The two of you ride your way through the silence of hyperspace without another word. Only the low rumbling of the engine beneath you filling the air.  ***  MASTER - Next

[kareniliana]

Jeremy: Meet Again

A//N: a little different and low key long. not really first time meeting but you'll see the connection when you read it. Also if you want to request something just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one!

xx Karebear 💛🧸

Being a sixteen year old in high school is stressful enough but being a sixteen year old witch, with little to no friends and absentee parents makes it harder for you to get your emotions in check. But you were able to find something that helps calm you, weed. You don’t necessarily need it but when the moon is full, your powers are enhanced and a little out of control. 

okay that's a little bit a lie, they become too much for you to control. Thats where the amazing marijuana plant comes in handy, it calms your anger. You've always had problems controlling your anger. At one point your parent’s noticed too many holes in the walls of your personal rage room and sent you to anger management.

It helped for a few weeks but when the full moon was in effect, all that progress- everything that you learned, it went down the drain. You slowly became more and more angry and uncontrolled during the day but at night. It only seemed to get worse for you.You don't sleep because it gets too hot upstairs. You go down to your basement, where your parents moved your rage room to, for this reason exactly. Over the night you continually get fed up and release the pain and anxiety and anger against the four walls of your rage room. You thought you were helpless and a waste of energy to help. 

You were contemplating on your life, if it was ever even worth the trouble to get to know or help. Having no real friends doesn’t help either. As you lit up a joint in the stoner pit you see the regular groups of people who use drugs to escape from everything but that wasn’t you. You weren’t escaping reality, you were reverting back to the median. Your emotions sometimes gets the best of you and with your magic you start chaos.

“Y/n Y/l/n” Your one and basically only friend comes up to you and sits with you before school starts.

“Jeremy Gilbert, to what do I owe the pleasure” you joked and laughed as you passed the small joint to Jer.

“So I found some stuff out these past few weeks. I just need someone to talk to.” He said almost awkwardly, hitting the J and passing it back to you. You looked into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, almost getting lost in them. You shake your head of any intimate visuals your brain is coming up with.

Jer smirks, almost as if he knows about your little crush for him. “but uh, You cannot tell anyone, not a single soul.” He looks at you with soft and adoring eyes, almost making you think maybe he likes you too? 

“Who am I going to tell, my weed?” You joke, lifting the joint to your lips. “Seriously though, what is it?”

He sighed deeply before looking at you with worried eyes, “Vampires and werewolves and witches- they exist. They’re real, we have students who are supernatural creatures.” He drops the bomb, studying you for any kind of reaction. You held a straight face, you’re a witch. But you didn’t know about werewolves and vampires, you really only know about witches because why the hell else would you research more on the supernatural spectrum?

“You can’t be serious Jer.” You stared into his eyes looking for a hint of dishonesty, but he wasn’t budging.

“Why would I lie to you? We think someone here is a new incoming witch, and we need to find them and help get their magic under control before something big happens.” His voice sounds worried and caring but who else here is a witch.

“What makes you think that?” You asked, a little worried because you can admit sometimes you lose control at school but you never knew if it was noticeable or not. You’re a loner, no one really cares if you’re having a panic attack or whatnot.

“You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed all the bizarre shit that’s been happening here? Just yesterday before lunch everyones locker in the halls opened. Everyone heard the sound of them opening simultaneously, it sounded like a canon!” You realized you were the witch they were looking for, you had birthday dinner set with your parents but they called you during class to inform you they were sent on a business trip to New York for a client. Which meant they were canceling on you. For the third birthday in a row. You lost control of your emotions and you let it out as a scream, you heard the echo of the lockers burst open from the basement of the school. 

“A few days ago Stefan and Caroline were mind tased that only a witch can do. And-” Jeremy looking to the two vampire from a few yards away, your face tinging with guilt, every time you went to let your anger out, you did something to the school or something around you. 

“-Wait, why only Stefan and Caroline? Are they..” you interrupted.

“Vampires. Luckily no one else was in the halls...” your head falls in disappointment, a frown and sad eyes very evident. Jeremy looks back over to you, instantly concerning himself. 

“Whats wrong? Wait, hey Y/n, what happened?” Jeremys hand reaches for your face, lifting your head to look at him. Tears formed, threatening to spill out. Guilt was written all over your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone I swear I just get so angry. I- I -” Your bottom lip started to quiver, almost sobbing you looked over to the vampires, “I’m really really sorry.”

“Hey wait, what are you...” He tried comforting you as he realized it was you they are looking for. “oh... it- it’s you. You're the witch.” You nodded your head, leaning away from him. He’s gonna see you differently now. He’s gonna hate you. He’s gonna leave, and you'll be all alone... your breath quickly increased, becoming into a panic attack and it’s beginning to become too overwhelming.

As your breathing increases, clouds roll in slowly covering the sun, then the wind starts raging around you all, you were doing this without even realizing it. It scared you more. 

“Y/n? No, hey hey its okay.” he tried reaching for you, but you were too fast. Jumping off the deck and running to your car. Then suddenly the clouds begins to crack with thunder, you can see the lightning across the clouds, ready to strike the earth.

You saw Stefan and Caroline begin to run to you but without really thinking you wave your hand at them, sending them flying into a bus. You ran without a second look back. Getting to your car and driving home, down the lonely winding road to your driveway, passing other driveways to the very few neighbors you have. 

“Okay, calm yourself!” You shouted at yourself as you hit the steering wheel, causing the storm to hail down rain. Suddenly you got the feeling os pins and needles all throughout your body, every muscle you felt a stab or slicing. You can feel your skin warming up.

“No, no, no, no, no, this cannot be happening!” You gripped the wheel and let all hell loose, screaming at the top of the lungs. A wave of power and force struck out from your body, feeling a wave of calmness come over you. You stopped the car, keeping your eyes closed hoping you were able to hold back the storm in your brain and above you in the dark sky.

You got your breathing under control, opening your eyes you see the storm is rolling away, and the sun is shining through. You chuckled, you were able to pull it back. “I did it, I really did it?” You smiled at yourself, letting out a deep breath. You got out of the car to really look at the sky.

As you got out, you look ahead and see tire skid marks on the road, they look fresh. You following the trail to a crash and totaled car, thrown again a wall of trees. Bringing tears instantly to your eyes, you hurt someone.

“Please be alive, oh, please be alive!” You scream trying to open the door but it’s at a weird angle the side doors aren’t opening and you're not climbing the death trap to the top. You can see blood on the windshield and drivers window, anxiety making your hands begin to shake.

“Okay... Think! Think!” You yelled and hit at your head. “You're a Goddamn powerful witch, start acting like it!”

You took a deep breath, standing a few feet away. You concentrated all of your magic to lift and stabilize the wrecked vehicle. Closing your eyes and feeling the earths pull on the car resist you, smirking at the feeling of power for good and not an emotional outbreak. 

“Y/n! Y/N!! WHERE ARE YOU?” Jeremy, Caroline and Stefan followed after you in Carolines car. Jeremy convinced Stefan to let him go look after you alone. You trust him, you know him, you don’t trust Stefan- you barely know him. And Caroline has a reputation, you make it your mission to avoid her.

You opened your eyes seeing the car is now on all four wheels, you exclaimed in excitement. “I’m here, their bleeding! Come help me!” you walked into view, he stood at the road near your car. Jeremy saw you emerge from the trees and ran to you.

“Help me get them out!” You didn’t even give Jeremy a chance to get to you before you sprinted to the car. You can’t be responsible for killing someone.

“What happened?” He asked as you try to pry the doors open.

“I happened! What else?!” You exclaimed as it finally gave in and opened. The bloody elderly man in the passengers seat had cut’s everywhere, he lifted his hand just for it to fall again, letting go of his last breath.

“No, no! Stefan!!” Jeremy screamed the second we got the door opened. The vampires showing up not even a second later. “Help him!”

Stefan listened for a heartbeat, but there was nothing. “I’m sorry, he’s gone.” Stefan says sadly.

“But, no...” You said sadly, “I killed him? I actually killed him?” You looked to Jer.

“Can you explain to me what kind of witch you are? ‘Cause I’ve never seen just one witch make that bad of a storm and especially not that fast.” Stefan asked nicely but worried. You looked to Stefan with a scrunched up face, wondering how he could jump from you killing an innocent man to your supernatural abilities. But it slowly made sense, he’s probably an older vampire than you thought and has more experience with this than you did. 

Your face relaxed into a frown, “I don’t know, just a regular witch. I don’t even know that much. I don’t know anyone in my family who could be a witch. I have some control of it... except..” You sighed deeply, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

“Except when?” Stefan said a little more sternly than before, taking a step towards you. Caroline grabbed his arm holding him back and interrupting.

“This seems like a witch problem for Bonnie. She can help you get control, no matter what it is, we can help.” Caroline said with a nod and soft smile. You returned her a smile of your own.

“But what do we do now? About him?” You asked about the dead man in the totaled car. Stefan walked towards the door, seeing the man drenched in his own blood but none of the windows are broken.

You brought Stefan’s attention away, “What am I supposed to do? Should I turn myself in?”

“Y/n, when do you have the least amount of control?” He asked sternly and worried, like he was depending on my answer to be best case scenario. 

You gulped loudly, “during the full moon” you muttered, everyones eyes on you. They looked confused yet scared.

“Y/n, look at him. Tell me, how did he die by this much blood loss without any broken windows, the car I trashed but the windows are for the most part intact.”He spoke softly, almost guiding me through his thought process. You looked up at him confused by the scene in front of you.

“What were you feeling when the accident happened?” Jeremy asked, almost catching on to what Stefan was trying to conclude. 

“I... first, I felt this overwhelming feeling of fear and self anger. Then I felt almost like something was slicing into my muscles, kinda like pins and needles... And I was hot, like I kept trying to stay warm but I couldn’t...” You looked down before asking, “Instead of me feeling that pain, I passed it to him?”

Jer sighed sadly,“Yeah. but his body doesn't heal like yours, because he's human... and you’re...” 

“A witch...” You finished, looking down with a frown on your face and sad eyes.

“And a werewolf.” Stefan added, causing your head to whip up at him. Confusion and sadness written on your face.

“What? Is that even possible?” You asked looking back and forth between Stefan and Jeremy.

“We’re not sure but if we’re right, you just triggered the curse.” Stefan said point-blank.

“No, I can’t be!” You raised your voice at Stefan.

“You have trouble controlling your anger, you lose control of your magic on the full moon during the day.” He said quickly, almost scared of you losing control again. “What happens at night? Huh?” 

You thought back to those sleepless nights of complete chaos, you’re starting to think he’s right.

“Tonight’s a full moon. What can we do to help?” Caroline spoke up, worried for you. 

“I need to figure out how to control it, what if now that I actually triggered it, it’s only worse from here?” You asked, worried out of your mind.

“Don’t think of it like that, I think you can do it. You just have to believe in yourself. Okay?” Jeremy brought his hands to your shoulders, comforting you. “Maybe now, you’re not bounded. You can shift and feel it instead of passing it on.”

Jeremy hugged you, trying his hardest to help keep you calm. He was worried for you. He was scared this would be too much for you and you’d end up hurting yourself instead.

“Okay, Jeremy get her out of here. We got this okay.” Stefan said, suggesting he would make it go away or at least make sure nothing points to you or Jeremy.

Jeremy takes you home, you showed him your rage room with all it’s damage and glory. He thought it would be best to stay here where you’re most comfortable and your parents were still out of town. Being worldly known defense lawyers means, business trips to New York or L.A. or Seattle. Really anywhere but Mystic Falls.

“Okay So I called Tyler and Bonnie. They should be here soon.” Jeremy sat down on the sofa with you, looking over to you. You sat up and looked confused to why you needed Tyler.

“He’s a werewolf, he can help guide you through the shift. He’s probably going to say something like ‘accept the pain’ blah blah.” He joked, making you laugh a little.

“Can you stay with me?” You asked shyly, after the laughter died down a little.

“You sure?” He asked looking at you with worried but loving eyes, getting lost in your y/e/c eyes.

“I’m basically going to go through the shift with strangers, I don’t think I could do it without you there. But if you don’t feel safe-”

“I’ll stay” His hand reached for yours, giving it a little squeeze. “You need me, I’m not leaving.”

You looked up from your hands to his eyes, you smile softly. You opened your mouth to say something but then the doorbell goes off. Almost scaring you both, you go to the door. Opening it to see Tyler Lockwood and Bonnie Bennett. You never in your life expected to ever see them at your front door, let alone being the supernatural creatures that they are. Crazy how life turns when you found out you're not human.

You showed them your rage room, and ensured them that your parents will not be in town for a few days. Then Tyler pulled out sets of chains and some restraining equipment, Tyler drilled anchor points on three of the wall and ground. Bonnie began to assemble the wrist clasps and what looked like a collar but metal. This all began to start to scare you and you could feel your magic begin to storm. But shortly after the magic spark, you could feel your body radiate extreme heat. Jeremy was helping Tyler connect the chains to the anchor points. You stood there confused, in pain and beginning to lose yourself. But then you’d catch a glimpse of Jeremy and you came back to the median. When this cycle of pain and anxiety came, you'd look to Jeremy and you'd look back to you with a smile, and you seemed to get control. 

Until suddenly, your bones begin to break. You screamed in pain and fell down to the floor. “Jer!”

“It’s starting already?! But the moon isn’t even at in effect yet!” Tyler exclaimed, helping you get up from the floor.

“Oh yeah? Well why did it start nearly an hour ago! Ahh!” Your arm breaks, you’re a panting sweaty mess. Tyler, Bonnie and Jeremy are trying chain you up but it’s a little difficult when you’re in the middle of shifting. Then the agonizing pain of your fangs coming out causes you to roar in pain, your eyes glowing an iridescent yellow. Claws and wolf hair growing out of everywhere. 

Tyler pushed Jeremy towards the wall, getting him out of harms way. Jeremy watched in amazement, he’s never seen a shift like this one. It was oddly controlled. You moved as if you’ve done this before, but everyone knows you haven’t. Jeremy didn’t realize he was the reason why she was so relaxed and accepting, he would look at you and you’d remember what he said. just believe in yourself.

Bonnie and Tyler moved back once they finally closed the last cuff. You roared, but held onto your humanity, you stayed in this half way form, holding Jeremy’s gaze.

“Yeah that's it Y/n, you got it. Just accept it, embrace it, don’t fight it. Okay?” Jeremys calm voice led you do letting go of your fears and you let yourself finish your shift. Your clothes ripped into shreds as you transformed into a white wolf with your bright iridescent eyes- even your fur seemed to glow a yellow tint. You glowed, truly glowed. The three of them stared in amazement, this was their first time experiencing something so magical and boundless.

Once they realized you were shifting back to human they left the room for you and bonnie, she brought down some clothes of yours that weren’t shredded to pieces. She released you from the restraints and handed you the clean clothes. As you got dressed you talked about your magic and how in control you seemed, she goes on to say that maybe your problem isn’t losing the control it’s that you get scared and make yourself lose it. You’re scared of what embracing the magic can do to you. She mentioned she also was scared of fully embracing it and letting herself be powerful.

“Last night you were too focused on your shift that your magic was controlled. You never wavered. You should be proud of yourself.” Bonnie praised you and had left a few spell books with you to help you get comfortable using your magic. 

You followed after Bonnie to the front door, walking Tyler and her out. “Thanks for everything, I know who to call if I’m in trouble with the shift.”

“Call me for anything.” Bonnie smiled and got into her car, Tyler opening the door and nodding at you before getting in. He rolled the window down.

“You got this, if you ever need anyone to let off some steam, come to me. We can figure out healthy ways to release that anger.” Tyler waved and they were off. Jeremy came out from the bathroom, grabbing his jacket. 

“I have to get home to shower before school.” He pulled his phone out as he received a text from Elena. You turned around as you heard her car pull up before you can see it. This werewolf hearing is gonna take a while to get used to. 

“I’ll see you there?” He asked, worried you weren’t going to school. 

“Yeah, of course. I- I feel good. I think I got a good handle on it now.” You smiled proudly in yourself. He smiled with you.

“I’m proud of you too.” He went down the steps and climbed into his sisters car, as they drove off you could hear Elena tease Jeremy about you.

You ran upstairs getting to finally shower off this exhaustion and soreness, shifting was painful but once you’re through it, it feels like a huge relief. You’re at peace and calmed. but now you’re back to human form, and it’s like your personalities of each are at each others neck. You were able to control it and keep them at bay. You weren’t helpless, you’re not a lost cause. You were helped, after all those terrible sleepless nights and the pain, the feeling of being alone in your pain and agony. You were found, you found yourself. You’re more you than you’ve been.

You cleaned up your rage room and put a lock on it, that way your parents don’t get curious and check it out- not that they have but just a precaution. Getting everything locked up and squared away you got int your car and went to school, driving past the site of the accident there was police tape a little ways into the woods. Stefan and Caroline had told the sheriff the truth, seeing as she knew about the supernaturals and helped cover up some major instances. Much like the accident you caused, which you will never stop feeling bad about. You don’t think you’ll be able to look at a human life the same again. Because you had to take a life to finally feel free and like yourself. You never knew being a were-witch would be the answer to your emotional health. 

You pulled into a parking spot, getting your things together before getting out. Seeing Jeremy leaning on a tree, waiting for you nearby. You smiled at him and walked to him. 

“You seem different.” Jeremy pointed out once you reached him. You smiled up at him.

“Yeah I feel different. I don’t feel like the same Y/n as before.” You chuckled, embracing yourself for the first time is empowering.

“In that case. Hi, I’m Jeremy and I'm a Human.” Jeremy held his hand out, meeting you all over again.

You laughed and played along, “Hi Jeremy, I’m Y/n. A Were-witch.” You giggled, feeling a sense of self.

You gave him your hand, not letting go of your gaze. He smiled at you and pulled you into a hug.

[rosethornewrites]

Fics I read this week!

MDZS/The Untamed, entirely. Including Tumblr fics here now, even if I shared them as well.

A lot of these are super short since I decided to embark on a journey to clear my AO3 “Marked For Later” list of anything under 3k words by reading them.

This is also a lot of fanfiction and I might have a problem. Any fanfiction addict support groups out there?

Also, I learned that I can only post 100 links. So this is going up early and I’ll separate the Not Rated, E, and M ones into a different post for next week.

Finished:

Not Rated (or Tumblr fics):

Parents, by @bloody-bee-tea

Untitled, by @mondengel

Untitled, by @mondengel

Untitled, by @cerusee

Xue Yang - The Third Jade of Gusu, by inawritingfrenzy

As Long as You're Here, by Aitheriomeraki

You are the last person I need to tell me exactly what I already know. You’re going to tell me to go back to cultivating the righteous path. You’re going to tell me that this is against the principles of a cultivator. I’m going to hear you drone on and on about what’s wrong with what I’m doing. You’re going to tell me that I’m acting like a pure disgrace, completely out of line, extremely unhinged and unruly and every other word your Lan vocabulary can muster up.” His words felt heavy but unstoppable, tears making their way to his eyes.

“You’re-” He was about to continue before getting cut off.

“Wei Ying… zhiji.” Lan Wangji breathed out like a plea, like a prayer. -------------- OR Lan Wangji talks to Wei Wuxian the day after killing Wen Chao.

Things we lost in the fire, by KatAnni

Three instances in Lan Wangji's life that involved fire. One of them certainly ends better than the others.

OR Wangxian can be cute in any situation, even when someone sets fire to their inn.

Sleep Talk, by breezebrocolis

"...But being awakened through such ungodly hours is worth it after all, because Wei Wuxian discovered that, contrary to popular belief about his boyfriend's sleeping habits, there’s a moment when Lan Zhan sleep talks, and he's the only one who knows it."

and

"...for now, after all and a year more, he'd never choose to have those lonesome minutes back. It turns out that filling the gaps with emptiness was necessary once, but it doesn't really fit him anymore. Lan Wangji has Grace on his side for now, the print of Wei Ying's delicate fingers into his skin."

In other words, a study about WangXian's sleeping habits.

Hold On, by voxnoxsox

“And really,” Wei Ying continued, “it makes no sense. Why would they not want to hug you, Lan Zhan, or, like… Do you warn them off or something? Give them the ol’ icy Lan glare?”

“No,” Lan Zhan said, when it was clear a response was required. His mind was a little preoccupied with Wei Ying’s hands still running up and down, up and down.

Rated E:

The Dreams of Youth, by Sami (25 chapters)

"Mother, I have to go, with or without you. Please come with me."

"A-Zhan, you're five years old," she says.

"With or without you, Mother," he pleads. "Please come with me."

Lan Wangji starts again from the beginning.

Rough and Tumble, by SugarMilkTea (3 chapters)

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are paired together for sparring, because of course they are.

Wei Wuxian is better than the rest of the disciples, because of course he is - so Lan Wangji takes him to another field to train privately.

Things escalate, because of course they do.

and if we choose to fall (who's to say it isn't flight?), by KiaraSayre (2 chapters)

Wei Wuxian has an idea and makes a talisman. A sexy talisman.

to live this way is not for the meek, by la_muerta

Yiling Laozu and his band The Restless Dead are one of the biggest names in the rock scene, playing to thousands of screaming fans in sold-out concerts all over the world.

But underneath the black leather, makeup, and untouchable, arrogant facade is a side of Wei Ying that only Lan Zhan gets to see.

Awareness, by syriala (last in a series)

Awareness is slow to come to Jiang Cheng, mostly because he doesn’t want to be aware. He’s warm and comfortable and Jiang Xiuying is bound to be still around and that is really all Jiang Cheng needs in life.

But then there’s an open mouthed kiss to the hinge of his jaw, Jiang Xiuying slowly trailing his way down Jiang Cheng’s throat, and it’s enough to get Jiang Cheng’s eyes open, however reluctant he might be.

Jiang Xiuying seemingly knows him better than Jiang Cheng does himself because he is already looking up at Jiang Cheng, his eyes sparkling and a teasing grin on his lips.

“Good morning,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice still rough from sleep and Jiang Xiuying leans up to capture Jiang Cheng’s lips in a kiss.

The heat behind it tells Jiang Cheng exactly where Jiang Xiuying wants to take this today, and Jiang Cheng can’t say that he minds too much.

yours for the taking, by SugarMilkTea

“There’s still time to back out, you know,” Wei Ying says, quiet enough that even the attendants waiting at the corners of their table won’t hear.

Lan Wangji pauses in the middle of reaching for the sash on Wei Ying’s—on his husband’s—outer robes. A pit opens in his stomach. His hand falls to his lap, and he lifts his eyes to meet Wei Ying’s. “Is that what you want?”

---

The components of the marriage ceremony are easy in theory. The handfasting, the bows, the feast... and the Taking.

housed by your warmth, by wangxiians

wei wuxian may never grow to enjoy mornings but he enjoys this, he really enjoys this – stolen time together, bodies reuniting, waking up before the world.

Rated M:

Heaven Hath No Fury, by Lady Mythos (Lady_Mythos)

The two biggest mistakes Yu Ziyuan has made are as follows: assuming Wei Wuxian was the cause of all her problems and assuming Cangse Sanren was dead.

Or, Cangse Sanren has a lot of things to say to the bitch that abused her son.

weird and awkward, by sami (3rd in a series)

At the age of sixteen, Lan Zhan falls in love, somewhat against his will.

Have Your Cake and Eat it Too, by adrian_kres (4 chapters)

Like half of all sound-tied people, Wei Ying was born with words in his heart and needing the melody they belong to. It’s his soul marker, and he’s been searching for his soulmate his whole life. Things change when he hears a tune being hummed in a cafe that matches his lyrics perfectly. Except he didn’t see who was humming it! To help, his brother’s soulmate puts him in contact with the beautiful pianist Lan Wangji, who makes Wei Ying question if he wants to find his soulmate at all…

Until The End, by abCEE (40 chapters)

"When I - when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa - wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony -" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself -" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went up and down from there.

Breaking The Ice, by aflaminghalo

“Why are are you asking for punishment?”

Bring Your Honor, Bring Your Shame, by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (21 chapters, third in a series)

Nie HuaiSang has a problem. His brother is losing his mind.

Rated T:

don't close your eyes, by howodd5ever

In which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian actually talk about the porn book.

Another Road, by Rynne

Something in the Guanyin Temple goes wrong. When Lan Wangji opens his eyes, he's fifteen again.

Phobia, by yougetsomekisses

What if Lan Wangji had been thrown in that dungeon with Wei Wuxian?

Snow Hunt, by InsanitysxCreation

A short scene of a winter hunt.

Entirely self indulgent, in that the idea of Lan Wangji in white leather gloves arrived in my brain and wouldn't let me continue until I'd written this.

真金不怕火炼 | True Gold Fears No Fire, by adrian_kres

In the immediate aftermath of a successful Sunshot Campaign, Wei Ying is kissed by Lan Zhan at the Phoenix Mountain Hunt while blindfolded. But when the blindfold comes off, Lan Zhan is nowhere to be found. Now, Wei Ying must deal with this heartbreak on top of forced therapy he was mandated to complete due to using demonic cultivation to end the war. Through it all, Wei Ying learns he has value, and that his assumptions about what happened at the hunt may not be entirely correct.

Fantasy, by snowberryrose (3 chapters)

In which Wen Qing leaves Or: Wen Qing rescues herself

Canon divergence from episode 20

Chapter 2: Qin Su’s choice Chapter 3: Xue Yang’s end

Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar, by masked (6 chapters)

“You know,” Ouyang Zizhen says thoughtfully over dinner one day, “I’ve never seen Wei-qianbei get jealous before.”

Lan Jingyi pauses for the briefest second, remembers the sect rule of keeping silence during meals, and decidedly forgoes it. “What?”

“Well,” Ouyang Zizhen continues, “Hanguang-jun always has a lot of admirers everywhere we go, but Wei-qianbei never seems to mind it.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Jin Ling asks flatly.

Four times Wei Wuxian doesn't get jealous, and the one time he does.

sweet dreams, by ShippersList

Distance won’t hinder Wei Wuxian from giving his Lan Zhan a goodnight kiss.

Sugar Baby, by nirejseki

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, and uh oh, that sounded like his ‘bad news’ voice. “We need to talk about your spending.”

That was worse than Nie Huaisang had thought.

“Is the talk going to be about how amazingly economical I am in making intelligent and aesthetically appropriate purchases?” he asked hopefully, clutching his latest and most aesthetic fan.

“Oddly enough,” his brother said, “no.”

Somehow, Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought so.

He was...No, He was Incompetent, by Corundum_Creations

He was Lan Wangji, a Twin Jade of the Lan Clan and he could face anything... so how did he become so incompetent with taking his Wei Ying and hiding him away?

The Resentful Cultivator Who Cried 'I'm Fine', by Mikkeneko

"Who's possessed?" another voice joined the scrum, and Wei Wuxian moaned in despair as Jiang Cheng came marching over to join the rest of the party, glaring daggers at Wei Wuxian for being the source of all this trouble. Purple lightning crackled on his wrist as his eyes narrowed. "This idiot got possessed? I can take care of that with Zidian! Stand back!"

"Ahaha, Jiang Cheng, there's no need for that!" he protested hurriedly. "Really, I'm not possessed!"

"Ah," Lan Jingyi nodded knowingly. "That's exactly what someone who was possessed and trying to throw us off the trail would say!"

---

While on a night-hunt with his friends and family, Wei Wuxian takes a near miss from a dangerous beast. Fortunately he wasn't hurt... but for some reason, they have trouble believing him when he says I'm fine.

Why I Can’t Help But Love Red, by spiralingbutmakeitanimerelated

Lan Wangji takes a bath after a night hunt. Wei Wuxian has questions about the night he branded himself.

Not Till Then Dare I Part From You, by forgottenenvy

WangXian share a tender moment as Lan Wangji braids flowers into Wei Wuxian's hair.

Snowmelt, by sugar_shoal

Lan Zhan has been badly injured on a night-hunt. Wei Wuxian panics only a little. Jiang Cheng drags them all to a nearby abandoned hut to wait out the encroaching blizzard.

Head Empty, Only Wei Ying, by nana_banana

Wei Ying is getting married? To someone not Lan Wangji? Fuck. Not if Lan Wangji has anything to say about it.

sparrow heart, by CeliaBlair24 (fourth in a series)

They pass notes through the spaces between their desks about nonsensical, inconsequential things. About the weather and birds, romance novels, and the forest behind the Cloud Recesses where they spend all their afternoons playing.

And Wei Wuxian is smart, both by the books and on his feet. If he wanted to, he could easily play Lan-xiansheng’s favorite class pet --studious and diligent about being studious; creative besides-- but he doesn’t. He listens to Lan-xiansheng and Jiang Wanyin’s complaints with half an ear and when all is said and done, he turns his back on them both and greets Nie Huaisang with his cheeky smile.

Otherwise known as "Nie Huaisang falls into like."

Retrospective on the State of the Field: Qinghe Patron X (QPX) Studies, by bladedweaponsandswishycoats (jeweledichneumon)

"Qinghe Patron X, eh?" Nie Huaisang chuckles, noticing the heading. Licking his lips, he circles the listing for the conference panel with a yellow highlighter. Despite the moniker having become common several years ago, he still gets a kick out of it. Of course he'd have to go to that one. He takes a moment to feel the faint touch of regret that he isn't on the panel himself; it is always more fun messing with people as a panelist than trying to rely on the Q&A period to say something provocative but relevant.

or

In which immortal cultivator Nie Huaisang likes to fuck around with scholars attempting to study what they think they know about him, and other shenanigans he gets up to (both with and without the help of his friends) in the modern age.

or

The year is 2021. Lan Wangji still goes where the chaos is, though these days that can mean a lot more than night hunts. Especially when Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang are dedicated to making sure being immortal never gets boring.

A Story for the Ages, by Supernova_Sage

Lan Wangji saunters over to the mystery section. He can hear people whispering, but he isn’t close enough to make sense of the conversation. The lilt in the voice makes it sound like one person is asking a question. Hmm. If he can hear whispering, they’re still being far too loud. He shakes his head and continues his browsing. He pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s nearly 6p. He really should get home. He still needs to feed the bunnies and feed himself and look over emails and—

He stops in his tracks. Stops when he sees the book that he’s been waiting to check out for months now. Every time he’s stopped by, though, it’s been checked out by someone else. And now it’s finally here. Sitting on the shelf in front of him. Once he manages to collect himself, he reaches for it. His fingers don’t touch the spine of the book, though. Instead, he finds his fingers brushing against the fingers of another.

DanTian - Into the Dark (LWJ), by ArchiveWriter (fourth in a series)

Wangji's memory holds images of Wei Ying. Wangji does penance by reliving his memories, and by making sure Wei Ying is loved. Wangji burns the millet porridge he's supposed to stir whilst Wei Ying fetches water for tea.

chasing echoes, by SWANPYRE

Lan Wangji must learn to co-exist with what he has learned his entire life to despise.

Snowfall, by nightflower

During a winter storm in Cloud Recesses, Wangji's old scars ache. Wei Ying takes care of him.

relics of love, by cl410

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Lan Zhan pinched the bridge of his nose. “The bunnies were almost eaten.”

“Our son was almost traumatized for life,” Wei Ying said, choking on a laugh. “Lan Zhan, he almost witnessed a double homicide on our own balcony.” He wheezed with laughter, clutching his ribs.

“We will install higher locks,” Lan Zhan said grimly.

Rated G:

A-Yuan's guide to eat the rich (a.k.a. How A-Yuan single handedly stopped a siege from happening and saved everyone), by fanficaddictXOXO

A-Yuan is only three years old. But he knows many things. He knows how to write his name. He knows potatoes are better than radishes (Xian gege said so). But the most important thing he knows is that the handsome gege with a white forehead ribbon is rich.

Obviously You Hate Me, by Sarehz

Wei Wuxian leans across the round table. "Okay, this isn't going to work."

From across the very same table, Lan Wangji raises one puzzled eyebrow. "Mn?"

"This!" Wei Wuxian gestures between them.

Begotten, by ecorie (6 chapters)

“He’s mine.” He echoed what had once been teasingly said in jest, and added, “This is my son.”

Against all odds and without a choice, Lan Zhan brings A-Yuan back to Cloud Recesses. Xichen keeps his brother’s secrets, and shields the child when Lan Zhan could not.

Alone Stands the Quiet, by ecorie

The story of the Yin Iron starts with a celestial war and ends with Lan Sizhui.

A Good Plan, by nirejseki

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

The Late Great Custody Debate, by stiltonbasket (5 chapters)

"You owe me child support," Lan Zhan blurts, before Wei Wuxian can open his mouth to say hello to him. "Take responsibility."

Or, the one where Lan Wangji's pet rabbit has a better love life than he does, and single father Wei Wuxian develops a healthy fear of attorneys, courtesy of his next-door neighbor.

Switcheroo, by nirejseki

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

A Kiss for you, my love, by Speechless_since_1998

"Ladies and gentlemen."

Suddenly the attention of the whole hall turned to Nie Huaisang, near the orchestra with a microphone in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, "On this wonderful evening I would like to share with you all the happiness I feel. for a wonderful couple who got married today. " Wait a minute did he say marriage? He must have heard right, even Lan Zhan had stiffened. “Let's give him a wonderful round of applause. To Wei Ying and Lan Zhan newlyweds. " Hot shit. They weren't supposed to attract attention.

The attention of the room focused on them, whispers in the crowd, some scandalized, some excited. Nie Huaisang motioned for him to keep the game, but what was she supposed to do ?! "Lan Zhan, we mustn't ..." He didn't have time to finish the sentence as Lan Zhan kissed him. In front of everyone.

Soulmates, by Yacs_Weasley

Ever since he was a little boy, Wangji had longed to find his soulmate.

Stay with me, by KatAnni

Sizhui's memories come to him in pieces, and some of them in dreams. This time, he dreams of Wei Wuxian putting him in a tree. He runs to the Jingshi immediately, to find his Baba.

The truth, by syriala (first in a series)

“Do you even remember a single person of those you killed after the war?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng turns his glare on him.

“Why should I?” Jiang Cheng asks and a fearful hush falls over the crowd. “Do any of you remember even a single person you killed in your lives?” he asks them and is met with a pretty telling silence.

“You’re a monster,” someone whispers, but in the quiet it rings out loud and clear.

Jiang Cheng has heard these words a lot in the past sixteen years, and so he simply smiles at them, even though they sting like always.

He reminds himself that the people that matter know the truth, that they know him for who he truly is, and that it has to be enough.

Boys, by nirejseki

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

Loss, by FlutterFyre

Lan Wangji knows something is wrong.

Hearsay, by syriala (second in a series)

“A girl went missing a few days back,” Wei Wuxian says, voice serious, and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the accusatory look on his face. “Coincidentally you were seen in that area during the same time.”

“So?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Wei Wuxian makes a frustrated sound.

“What did you do with her?” Wei Wuxian asks him, even though he clearly already made up an answer for himself.

An ally, by syriala (third in a series)

“I just don’t want you to force yourself to face them,” Jiang Cheng finally says and Jiang Xiuying smiles at him.

“I’m not forcing myself. I am going on my own free will. It will be fine. And besides, Lan Xichen was never the reason I left.”

“But he didn’t stop you either,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and then rolls his eyes. “Fine. Accompany me, see if I care.”

“All I see is you caring,” Jiang Xiuying honestly gives back and Jiang Cheng flushes bright red.

Escalation, by syriala (fourth in a series)

“How can you lie to him like that?” Lan Wangji wants to know but it seems to be morbid curiosity more than anything else, because he goes right on. “You’re coming with me to the Cloud Recesses. There will be a trial.”

“A trial,” Jiang Cheng scoffs out, because it’s a farce and nothing more.

Lan Wangji has already decided on his sentence. And they all know it's going to be death.

Resolve, by syriala (fifth in a series)

“Regarding the accusations made against me today,” he starts and cuts his glare over to Sect Leader Yao, who has the good grace to shrink back at the venom in that glare, “I have something to say.”

“Speak,” Lan Wangji demands, but he doesn’t sound too sure all of a sudden, doesn’t seem too happy with the proceedings, and Jiang Cheng does rather enjoy the feeling of triumph it brings him.

“I am innocent. I did not kill any demonic cultivators, nor did I torture them.”

His voice rings out in the courtyard because everyone is silent for two seconds, but then chaos erupts. The voices calling him a liar are the kinder ones, and Jiang Cheng shakes his head at them.

“And I have proof,” he continues, raising his voice so that it carries over the others.

Devotion - Gather, by syriala (sixth in a series)

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks, because for once he is in no immediate danger of being murdered by the other Sects and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t think that look is fair.

“You absolute asshole,” Jiang Xiuying hisses at him and Jiang Cheng knows that if he wasn’t injured Jiang Xiuying would try to slap him over the head or shake him until he sees sense.

“What? What did I do now?” Jiang Cheng wants to know because he was asleep! There is no way he could have done something to upset Jiang Xiuying like this!

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jiang Xiuying says and starts to pace Jiang Cheng’s room, without giving any thought to the fact that this is Jiang Cheng’s bedroom and he really shouldn’t be here.

Well, Jiang Cheng is not going to say that to him, because with the mood Jiang Xiuying is in right now it wouldn’t go over well for Jiang Cheng, Sect Leader or not. Not that he actually cares anyway.

It’s Jiang Xiuying after all.

Home in Lotus Pier, by syriala (seventh in a series)

Jiang Cheng's angry frown turns into a confused frown when he sits down for breakfast and finds a box next to his bowl of congee.

“What is this?” he asks into the room, because someone is bound to be around, but he doesn’t get an answer and Jiang Cheng heaves out a sigh.

He tugs the box close and opens it and he’s surprised to find that his favourite tea is in it. It’s hard to come by lately, as it is entirely seasonal and only grown in a small spot in Sect Leader Yao’s territory, and after everything that happened at the Cloud Recesses a few months back, he already mentally said goodbye to it.

He wouldn’t be getting any more supplies from Sect Leader Yao after all, so this is more than surprising.

But the gifts don't stop there.

Parallelism, not equivalence, by DreamaholicsAnonymous

Wei Wuxian reminded him of Xingchen, Song Lan thinks, not for the first time.

Bring Your Secrets, Bring Your Scars, by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (fourth in a series)

Nie MingJue keeps his promises.

All Your Madness, I Will Tame, by Terri Botha (Isilwath) (fifth in a series)

Wen Qing in the Burial Mounds.

Puppy, by Speechless_since_1998

Returning home, Lan Zhan found his husband hiding behind the sofa and A-Yuan sitting on the ground playing with a puppy dog.

The puppy must have been a few months old, probably hadn't even been weaned. It was harmless, but Wei Ying didn't care. It was enough that it was a dog to be afraid.

“Ah, Lan Zhan! You finally arrived! Take that monster away!" Wei Ying pleaded, refusing to come out of hiding.

A-Yuan puffed out her cheeks, "Shiro is not a monster!"

Heaven, he had already given it a name.

Being Good, by ricochet

Lan Wangji tries to be good.

no shadow can touch, by sunflowersfield

When it is time to hand out the mics, Lan Zhan forces himself to lower his expectations. Their exchange will be fleeting, and Wei Ying will barely even look at him.

Or: Wei Ying is cast in a musical at his local community center. Lan Zhan is the theater technician.

make a mess (inside my heart), by avenqelic

Wei Wuxian looked comfortable against Lan Wangji’s white sheets, curled up in his blankets. Lan Wangji’s chest ached, mind swirling with possibilities – falling asleep looking into Wei Wuxian’s eyes, waking up in his arms, holding each other close as the moon shifted across the sky and the sun rose.

Finding a way home, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

Prompt idea for a less than one thousand words one shot! Lwj walks into a coffee shop and barista wwx cannot stop flirting with him while both of them are dying on the inside because the other is so handsome! Wwx writes his number on the cup! Up to you if lwj has an existencial crisis after finding the number or if he even finds the number. Bonus points if the oneshot ends with lwj going back to the cafe and wwx smiles at him when he sees him! — this is a.a. now with a prompt

DanTian - Planting Gentians (LWJ POV), by ArchiveWriter (1 chapter plus art)

Wei Ying's been up their old mountain early in the morning. Wangji does needlework and indulges in watching Wei Ying's hands. A slice of domestic contentment because I like them happy.

Tease, by annjellybean

Now, Wei Ying had long outgrown teasing his husband mercilessly the way he used to back in their childhood days, they had been through so much since then, he had honestly forgotten how to do so. That being said, it did not mean Wei Ying had completely forgotten his gremlin roots, and as a self-proclaimed gremlin husband, today he wanted to tease.

Pure Morning, by ShizunThirst

It’s on mornings like these that Lan Wangji can love Wei Wuxian the way he deserves to be loved.

deeper etchings, by fensandmarshes

“And remember, a-Yuan,” comes the voice, lowered but still loud as though it shuns the petty boundaries of the house, “you absolutely cannot tell diedie about this.”

Lan Wangji pauses, there in the middle of the portal array, halfway through setting down his bag, and tilts his head just slightly.

Caring Warmth, by MountainMist

Wei Ying is sick and lonely. Head empty only Lan Zhan.

And how Lan Zhan takes care of him.

just them, together., by adeptiwings

It was okay, now that it was just them.

the boy with rabbit ears, by dragontea

Lan Zhan got lost in an amusement park and found his way home in the company of the boy with rabbit ears.

heart-shaped knots, by twigofwillow

There’s been a ghost in Cloud Recesses for over thirty years, but no one has talked to her until now.

Setting Suns and Dawning Realisations, by wereworm

Wei Wuxian's plans for a romantic night out in Caiyi with Lan Zhan are ruined when he works late, the sun already setting by the time he makes his way home to the Jingshi. Instead, they enjoy a quiet night in and Wei Wuxian comes to terms with the peace that he'd fought so hard to earn and the life that's he's finally allowed to have.

[For the prompt: a sweet wangxian date night in]

Won This For You, by Preludian_Staves

He looks up as his husband comes into the room with something suspiciously large hidden behind his back.

A single soul (no more), by Lysdance1

The core transfer surgery goes as in canon BUT it leaves the spiritual link open between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and, well, what goes one way can go both ways.

"It's what keeps him (mostly) sane, a tether in this dark place where he cannot feed and cannot sleep and cannot escape; through the link he feels - trickles of love, Jiang Cheng's worry for him. It shouldn't be enough, but somehow, in this dark, dark place, it is. It reminds him, faintly, of home, and in the dark he hears the rhythm of one, luminous, far away soul."

To Need Someone, by Preludian_Staves

"A-die?"

"Hm?"

"What does mean to need someone? To want them with you?"

Approval, by Speechless_since_1998

"You look tired, "he said, sipping his tea. He shouldn't, it wasn't kind. But he couldn't resist teasing him a little.

Lan Zhan stared at him blankly, "I've been drinking."

"I saw."

"I kissed Wei Ying."

"I saw that too."

And thanks to the gods there was no uncle because he hated worldly occasions, otherwise he would have a heart attack.

"We had sex at his adoptive parents' home."

"And?"

Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you surprised?"

"Oh, sorry, now I'll try again ... Really? !!"

"You're not funny."

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

An Obsidian Among Jades, by bluebeads

What happens when a sad lost mantou cheeked Lan Zhan teams up with a cheerful one to find his family in the unfamiliar streets of Yilling. A Yu Ziyuan Ultimatum AU which I submitted a while ago on angstymdzsthoughts Also a Gusu Lan Sect Wei Wuxian.

I've had enough, by pluma1007

He is ascending. They’re minds unhelpfully supplied.

Then, Wei Wuxian is gone.

The cultivators are in disarray.

“Wei Wuxian… Wei Wuxian ascended!”

“How can this be?! A monster ascended?!”

“No! My core! My powers had diminished!”

Hearing that, the cultivators checked their cores. Gasps rang out the mountains. Enraged cries are heard, cursing Wei Wuxian. There are also those who kowtowed, praying for forgiveness. There are others who praised him.

Song of Joy and Regrets, by HelloKitten

The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..."

"Do they all involve him being bait?"

"Yes" came deadpanned responses.

Hua Cheng is not amused.

Rated E:

the long way back home, by Misila

Wei Ying always knew he was the single discordant note in the Jiang household. That was why, after graduating from university, he didn’t return home. With him gone, Yu Ziyuan wouldn’t have anyone to compare her son to, and Jiang Fengmian wouldn’t have to keep avoiding his own family to prevent further conflict.

…Right?

(Seven years later, married to the man of his life and with a four year-old son, Wei Ying returns to his hometown and tries to reconnect with his siblings and befriend his nephew; but, most of all, he struggles to figure out what’s wrong with his brother and how to help him, despite Jiang Cheng not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.)

Will You Stand Beside Me, by trashgavin

Wei Wuxian takes all his strength and spits blood in Wen Chao’s face. His eyes narrow and he speaks, though his voice is quiet and full of pain.

“Go to hell.”

It only makes Wen Chao laugh. He releases his hair and stands to his feet. “Bring me a whip.”

Rated M:

For the Dust and the Dirt, by Nyxelestia

His breath came out in shaky gasps, but still he could do nothing as the demonic copy of himself brought the blade down to the bare skin of Wei Wuxian’s uninjured shoulder. He whimpered when he felt a small cut, then when the blade lifted. He didn’t have time to even think of relief before it came back, right next to the first cut in a different direction, then again below in a line, multiple small lines in multiple directions like…like a character.

“Like I said,” the demon mused as Wei Wuxian realized what it was doing. “I’ll write it down for you.”

A brutal assault on a Cloud Recesses student leaves the Cultivation world reeling. Wei Wuxian struggles to recover, while everyone else tries to make sense of an ominous message. But since when do demons care about sect politics, anyway?

Between Wen Ruohan's rising aggression, simmering tensions across the guest disciples, and the mysterious fierce corpses still popping up all over the place, Wei Wuxian would rather ignore the confusing, horrifying visions the demon left him with.

If only the demon's taunting predictions didn't keep coming true at every turn.

I Know How Those in Exile Feed on Dreams of Hope, by rabbit_habits & saltedpin

“What does it mean, that Wen Ruohan has all the Yin Iron?” Jiang Cheng asked, dragging himself up into a sitting position – her medicines must have worked quickly, because his ribs gave only a twinge when he moved.

Wen Qing settled down beside him, head bowed as she packed away her supplies, her shoulder brushing his arm when she moved. “It means that no one in the cultivation world can oppose him,” she whispered.

—

Canon divergence AU in which Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are captured by the Wens after escaping from the Xuanwu's cave, before they can return to rescue Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Misunderstood, by Silver_Flame_2724

There is something called a memory ball that shows the memories of a chosen person.

In order to further incriminate the already dead Yiling Patriarch, the cultivation world decides to use this memory ball at the next Discussion Conference to show how evil the demonic cultivator can truly be.

What appears, though, truly shocks them all.

laughing shadow, by ich_bin_ein_stern

During the commotion involving Wei Wuxian, A-Ling refused little sleep. His screams carried across Koi Tower, putting wailing ghosts too shame. He was inconsolable by everyone. It was only when Jin Zixuan unintentionally passed the room holding Wei Wuxian while trying to calm down his son did A-Ling miraculously settle down. Since then, he has slept peacefully every night. Yanli expressed, in the quiet and security of their bedroom, that perhaps Wei Wuxian's spirit soothed A-Ling and continues to do so.

At the least expected times, Jin Zixuan swears he can hear the distant sound of a flute.

But when he stops to actually listen for it, he hears nothing.

Come From My Inkstone, by magicgenetek

“So your plan,” Nie Mingjue said dubiously, “is to move into the Burial Mounds to write and illustrate erotica about you and Lan Wangji seducing the Yiling Patriarch to earn his trust and sell the public on the idea that he's not a threat, then convince him to give up the Yin Tiger Seal?"

“The way I said it sounded better,” Nie Huaisang said. “And you forgot the part about me seducing the Ghost General, that is crucial.”

“I hate this, and as your brother, I am begging you not to actually stick it in a fierce corpse. How much money do you need?”

Rated T:

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

A place of Gold, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

A few days after Wei Wuxian has parted from Lan Wangji on a forest path, he gets surrounded by Jin officials in an Inn, who formally ask him to return to Jinlintai to fill in the position of Sect Leader, as is his right and duty.

Wei Wuxian thinks it is an artful prank. Until it is not.

Blossoming flowers in a full moon - 花好月圆, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

What if Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to get out of Lan Wangji’s grip at the cliff in Nevernight? What if Lan Wangji refused to let go?

All will be well when the day is done, by abCEE

The one where Yu Ziyuan time traveled but she thought that it was her visions of her alternate life.

She learned that there is a brat named Wei Ying who brought destruction to her and her family's life.

And so in her present, she vowed that she will never allow that to happen.

In which Yu Ziyuan found the four-year-old Wei Ying, newly pushed out of the inn where his parents left him, and decided that no, this child must never be associated with her, her family, and their sect at all.

And so Yu Ziyuan thought that she could bring him somewhere where someone may or may not find him but definitely far from where her husband could find him. If he's lucky, he'll survive that winter, if he's not, then death awaits the fevered child.

This is the extent of mercy that Yu Ziyuan could give a child.

With this, she'll raise her children without having to deal with a brat that brings trouble where he goes according to her visions of her alternate life.

Like the tag stated, this is definitely not Yu Ziyuan centric.

Rated G:

How Jin Zixuan Helps Everyone, by BryxcrSt

The Yunmeng Heroes, Twin Jades, Nie Huaisang, The Peacock, Cinnamon Roll Ghost General and Lan Qiren suddenly transport back to the past before the Conference in Qishan, with their very memory of how all their clans battled Wen Rouhan's and now they're all ready to prevent it from happening now that they're back to the past. Especially Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Surprisingly, Jin Zixuan wants to help them instead of standing out of the front line like how he used to but what can he do?

To Repeat, Repay, and Repair, by adrian_kres

Wei Wuxian has died again and his family grieves. Lan Sizhui, now married and with children of his own, grieves the loss of both fathers, as Lan Wangji has entered seclusion. But somehow, he unknowingly sends himself back to the time he spent in the Burial Mounds at three years old. Will his family take his confused, nonsensical warnings seriously? Are they doomed to repeat the same fate?

[seven-oomen]

Every road leads to you chapter 1 | Sambucky a/b/o mpreg

Note: obvious tags for this are a/b/o and eventual mpreg. Alpha Sam, Omega Bucky, Bucky deal with CPTSD, missing scenes, canon compliant, canon continuation, frenemies to friends to lovers, roommates, only one bed. Probably a few more tropes. tbh I wrote this chapter in like a day, posting it here first because I wanna finish the whole fic before posting it to Ao3 but hoping to get some feedback for it here. So I hope you like it. Let me know if you do.

-

“Stop the car!”

Goddamn Walker and his goddamn fucking mouth. He couldn’t believe this shit. Battlestar. More like throwing away everything Steve had ever stood for. These two, Walker and Hoskins, they weren’t fit to defend the mantle of Captain America. They were soldiers, not good men. He hated their freaking guts for that.

Sam should have never given up that shield.

He stalked further down the road, past the bus stop and onto a smaller road that wound back to town without looking back.

“It’s always that last line.” Sam said after a short back and forth with Walker and not long after Sam’s footsteps trailed after him.

“Buck, wait up!”

He kept walking, trying to contain the anger boiling under his skin. Pulsing and creeping up, threatening to overload his nervous system at the slightest touch. He took a deep breath instead and released it slowly. Trying to calm the waving energy inside of him.

Just keep breathing. Everything is going to be okay.

Sam fell into step beside him, his eyes practically burning holes into the side of his face. Though he paid it no mind.

“You’re not going to talk to me, are you?”

He glared at Sam but slowed down his pace just a little to allow the Alpha to keep up with him. As much as he usually enjoyed bantering with the other man, right now everything was just too much. And even Sam’s words echoed in his head and threatened to overload his entire system.

Sam, thankfully, understood.

“Alright. Let’s find a phone. Call Torres.”

He looked at Sam for a moment. The Alpha didn’t judge him for his mood, simply understood what he needed and left it at that. Honestly, it was nice for a change. He sighed, fishing his still working cellphone out of his pocket and handed it to Sam.

“Here.”

Clearly, Sam hadn’t expected that. But the smile Sam gave him created a pleasant warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and eased the pulsing energy through his body just a little. In a way, it was soothing to see him smile.

“Thanks Buck.”

“You’re welcome.”

Two short phone calls later they were on their way to the airport in a cab, their knees touching and only the sound of Taylor Swift singing over the radio surrounding them. Even the driver was quiet.

He still noted the driver’s glances between the two of them but didn’t comment on it since the chubby man didn’t either. He figured the man had bigger problems in his life than having an unmated Alpha and Omega sitting in the back of his cab. Having the kind of walrus mustache the man sported, had to be one of them.

Sam kept sneaking glances between him and the driver, his lips curled up in an amused smile. Almost as if he knew the kind of things he was thinking. It was a little weird, a little endearing, mostly just annoying. He raised an eyebrow at the behavior and leaned back with a smirk when Sam just glared at him and crossed his arms.

Damn right.

Though a small part of him winced at the way his gut twisted at Sam’s reaction. When was the last time he’d taken his suppressants? A quick silent count said he’d taken all of them. So that couldn’t be why he was having a reaction. What else could it be though?

Torres welcomed them at the airport, thankfully Walker or Hoskins were nowhere to be seen. A small miracle all things considered, but a very welcome one.

“Plane’s fueled and ready to go when you are.”

“Then let’s take off, I’ve had enough of Germany for now.” Sam said.

He followed, trailing after Sam into the cargo hold of the plane where they would undoubtedly spend the next few hours just staring ahead. And maybe even getting some sleep if they were lucky enough.

It took a few hours for them to get bored enough. He certainly didn’t know what to do with himself and Sam was on the verge of a mental breakdown judging the by the way he was glaring at him. Then again, if Sam had been mindlessly pacing up and down the cargo hold he’d probably be in the same state.

“Would you please just sit down?”

His fingers twitched at those words yet he did stop. Hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to get rid of some of his excess energy.

“I can’t. I’m restless.” He was. It felt like a dozen fire ants were crawling up and down his spine and the only way to alleviate that feeling was by pacing around the plane.

“I can see that, but you’re making me restless. Come on.” Sam beckoned him closer.

It was… tempting to sit down beside him and allow Sam to calm him. He couldn’t do that though. Couldn’t let anyone get that close. He didn’t know if Sam knew what he was, they didn’t talk much about that stuff. And a part of him never wanted Sam to find out either. He didn’t want to lose this edge of whatever it was that was between them. In a way it was comforting to know that someone didn’t take his bullshit, that someone still called him out on his stupid ideas.

He sat down on the floor opposite Sam, his back propped up against some crates and the tips of his toes not quite touching Sam’s.

Sam merely stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward and offered him his hands. “Gimme your hands.”

“No.” His first reaction was to lean back further and glare. Sneering at the hands he was offered.

Though Sam didn’t budge or get angry at his behavior and stayed calm. Within minutes his shoulders relaxed just a little and he laid his hands in Sam’s with a soft grumble.

“Fine.”

“Good, now breathe.” Sam said, taking a deep breath in. “In, hold it-” He paused for a few seconds, then released his breath “-and out slowly. Repeat.”

“You’re playing therapist now are you?” He appreciated Sam’s help, truly, he did. But there was always a part of him that just wanted to rile Sam up. Just to see if he could.

“No, I just want some goddamn peace and quiet without you pacing a hole through the floor and this is probably the best way to get that.” Sam bit back, the corners of his lips curling up.

It did something to him. A warmth that pooled in his stomach and slowly traveled to his heart and eased the little aches, pains, and pulses of his body. God he could drown in those dark eyes all night.

He blinked rapidly at that thought, only then realizing that his breathing had synched up with Sam’s and they were calmly breathing in and out together. How had that happened? Even his own therapist hadn’t been that effective in getting him to calm down.

He hadn’t even noticed he had exposed the dog tags around his neck for Sam to see. His full name and designation clearly stamped and visible.

James B. Barnes O

32557038 T41 42 O

R.Barnes

3092 Stoorton RD

Shelbyville IN P

Sam didn’t seem to care either way. “Better?”

He nodded, quickly pulling his hands away from Sam’s when Sam’s thumb brushed over the back of his hand. “Yeah…”

“Good. Let me know if you feel restless, we’ll do it again.” Sam leaned back and closed his eyes, his breathing slowly evening out.

He honestly didn’t understand it. Sam had had every opportunity to absolutely obliterate him and yet he hadn’t. Anything vulnerable he showed him, any kind of weakness he had, for once it wasn’t used against him. Sam treated him like a person. He never really noticed that before, or it hadn’t registered this clearly. It was too easy to forget when he was around Sam, too easy to just fall in beside him and joke and snap along. It scared him just a little.

It also gave him hope.

Maybe that’s why he brought Sam to Baltimore.

He should have known things would go south real quickly.

“How come nobody ever told me about him?” Sam’s voice was full of fire and emotion and yet it cut him cold across the chest. He wasn’t sure if he deserved that reaction, but he understood it in a way.

“Steve didn’t know and I didn’t-” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing “-I didn’t tell anybody because he’d already been through enough.”

The sharp sound of sirens pulled him out of his thoughts and brought an entirely new problem with it. Before he knew it, he was the one escorted into a police car with his hands cuffed. He missed his court mandated therapy. Wasn’t that a fucking joke?

He spared one glance at Sam just as the car pulled away from the scene and immediately wished he hadn’t. The look Sam gave him hurt more than any punch ever had and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t owe Sam anything. And yet it felt like he just lost his entire world.

“I’m sure everything will be sorted quickly, Mr. Barnes.” One of the cops, the shorter one, said. He was quite a bit more nervous now than he had been when he thought Sam had been an aggressor, possibly because he feared repercussions from profiling an Avenger. Good. Maybe it would make him think twice about pulling shit like that, though a part of him very much doubted it.

He simply glanced at them in the rear view mirror, feeling an almost sick sense of satisfaction as that unnerved both of the cops further. He didn’t say anything to them despite their attempts at making small talk with him.

What was the fucking point anyway?

He didn’t expect Sam to come get him at the station. Seeing him there felt like a slap to the face. Not because Sam had done anything wrong, no he’d done everything right. And that’s exactly what hurt so much.

The doc seemed hell bent on getting him to open up about his problems. And as much as he didn’t really want to he found himself opening up anyway.

“Well in my miracle, he would talk less.” He said, glaring at Sam as he said it. And maybe that was a bit harsh, but Sam took it like a champ and threw it right back at him. God how he wanted to shut him up in that moment. Though in what way he wasn’t quite sure. In the last day his emotions had been all over the place.

He wanted to hate Sam, but he couldn’t. Something deep inside him just couldn’t hate him for any of this. Not when he himself had done so much worse.

The doc didn’t seem that pleased with them. Honestly, she should have known better. “You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul gazing exercise.”

Now that, he actually liked. “I like this one a lot better.”

“Oh god he’s gonna love this.” Sam said.

“Oh yeah, I’m ready.”

They scooted close, legs intertwining as they sat opposite one another. Once again he was staring into deep brown eyes except this time Sam’s warmth also seeped into him. In a way it was like touching spring for the first time since a cold winter. Warm and pleasant with just enough breeze to keep you alert and in the moment. It was both heaven and earth on hell and he wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because punching Sam wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t give him closure. It wouldn’t bring Steve back. Steve, who had walked out on him and left him in a time he barely knew just to get his own happy ending. Yeah maybe that had left him a little bitter and a little broken.

“Why’d you give up the shield?”

He poured his heart into his words and bared his soul wide open and it didn’t seem to matter to Sam. So maybe Steve had been wrong about him. About both of them. Maybe he didn’t deserve redemption or compassion. Maybe he didn’t deserve a second chance. And maybe he didn’t deserve Sam’s kindness or compassion either. Maybe he was just broken.

“See you outside, Buck.”

Maybe he was just too broken to function after all.

“Thanks doc.” He followed after Sam, quiet and brooding on the outside but his mind was screaming and crying in agony.

Worthless. He was just so fucking worthless.

He shouldn’t care this much.

He didn’t deserve to care this much.

Maybe that’s why he suggested to go the HYDRA route and find Zemo, or maybe it was a form of self sabotage. Who knew? All he knew, was that this was his last chance to do something right for this world. No matter what it would cost him.