#if i missed something please overlook that too my brain is shaking as well (but maybe remind me)

[bee-named-alex]

So episode 6 of IWTV s2. My thoughts? Many. Enjoy them, I'll try to make it as coherent as possible in my current state. Spoilers and my mental breakdown below the cut

Fuck this. I cannot wait for a week after this episode, how am I supposed to be normal after this???

So I guess I'll start from the start? The tension is in every word and I get why Daniel's getting afraid for his life, I mean I am afraid for his life rn and he's not even real.

The Dubai scenes, they contrast really well with the first couple episodes of this season. The cracks in Loumand relationship are very apparent now, they can't even decide on what painting to have in their house. And I read a post that was like "season 1 was music, season 2 is art" and it's so true and this means like their relationship is empty i guess or something. Maybe just that it's falling apart.

And the way they began this season holding hands and sitting so close, acting like everything was perfect, ready to fight Daniel and now they sit as far away as possible, fight like all the time about everything and Louis and Daniel (and even Rashid I think) keep on further unionizing against Armand... I think that's just great.

And Armand knowing that they know and from the start trying to spin it. I'm not sure how the sentence "Why do you ask, love?" from Louis is like the coldest thing ever but it just is.

I'll talk more about Dubai later.

But now to Paris. Claudia's diary "Fuck these vampires" - girl's so right (in both meanings of that word btw). Claudia was never really my fave, but out of everyone I feel like she deserves a happy ending the most (not counting daniel here) and fuck, she's not getting it. i know but it still hurts like hell.

Her and Madeleine's relationship is great. Inbetween all the plotting and manipulation and murder this feels like one of the only peaceful things. In the scene where Claudia reveals herself I though that she's like Madeleine's guardian angel. But also an angel of death. But Madeleine doesn't mind and I think that's very important, that she doesn't really see Claudia as a monster - or maybe she does, but it doesn't change what she feels (after all, she thinks that she's a monster)

Then the turning. First Louis trying to convince Armand and him not obeying- as Daniel says "maitre only when it's hot or convinient" (it was hot in the art room btw and it's so not fair that we didn't get to see at least a little more i mean that whole scene was inexplicably so hot and i need moreeee).

But it also reminded me of another post, the "Armand is a willingly leashed tiger" because like yeah, Louis has the power up until the point when Armand no longer wants him to have it. (also Louis persuasion being "imagine me without the burden of her" sucks, like sorry but this hurts, even if you didn't mean it and yes it matters if you meant it. But his later method - aka kiss to shut him the hell up - seems much better.)

Then I got a little pissed or perhaps confused at his "Are you asking or making me?" because we know that Louis can't actually make Armand do anything, not when he is 100 % sure he doesnt want to. Because if he could, Armand would've turned Madeleine. (speaking of, Armand not having turned anyone is pretty interesting, but i guess that that's how it was in the books and it was important so sure why not)

Also Louis' "It's ok, it's ok" here reminded me of "Of course, of course!" and also "It's fine, he's fine, we're fine" and it's just so funny how they all think that if they say things over and over again they'll convince themselves that they're true.

The turning itself was beautiful, as Louis said it would be. Like it wasn't violent, there wasn't fear, no tears. Just love and devotion and I'm so sad that Claudia's and Madeleine's beautiful dream didn't last longer.

Louis not caring afterwards is just another exampke of his dissociative state and I worry about his mental well-being. (All of their mental and physical well-beings tbh)

In Dubai again, Armand finally talking about the erased memories and how they both hate on him for it and they're right. Like what do you mean Daniel doesn't have the right to be angry, of course he does. It's fun to see Daniel delighted about fighting Armand.

But also... Louis asked him to get rid of those momeries (if he believe him. And I, in this episode more than ever and despite my better knowledge, do believe Armand. Maybe it's just because of Assad's phenomenal acting but I believe his words and I believe his tears. Which actually makes this all worse btw.) and that makes the whole situation suddenly much more complicated.

Other Paris plot - Santiago (fuck Santiago) and his coup -, yeah that kept me on my toes for the entire episode. Like Armand says that he was in love and Louis says that he got lazy but I just think he must've been blind to not see it.

I feel like Dubai kinda reflects this (Louis and Daniel unionizing as we've said and so it's like Armand losing his power over his people again) but also. Paris and it's aftermath was the biggest crisis of their relationship, must've been (followed by San Francisco and Daniel I'm sure). But now as the recount it they are also reliving it and are also in a full-blown crisis and i hope this one doesn't end in a fire.

And the ending of it all. Fuck. I was near tears watching it.

The double-date in the cafe felt like a dream, they even said in the episode insider that they wanted it to feel surreal or something like that, like a romantic comedy. And for a few minutes it does. They let you believe that they could be happy. You know they won't, you know that shit's about to go down and everything will end in ruin but this single scene makes you beg, no please, no don't fuck it up, just stay happy, like this, it can be good. And despite knowing what's coming, you stick your claws into this idea of happiness like a lifeline.

And then it hurts that much more when this perfect bubble pops.

I admire all the actors because idk what Armand was feeling the moment he stepped outside but through Assad's acting I felt it too. And as Louis looks around, seeing the world stop, here I know exactly what he must've felt- the realization hits, the betrayl and then the immense worry for Claudia and Jacob portrays it so beautifully.

"He chose." This breaks my heart. Because what did he choose exactly, or better yet, what did he choose over? I mean this is terrible, the trial, but what was his other choice? He calls himself a coward so maybe it was Louis and Claudia and Madeleine or him that the coven would go after. But maybe this was actually the better choice idk.

But like you see the regret in Armand's face in Paris but especially in Dubai and I trust him. I believe him that he regrets it, I believe him the tears and as I've said that just makes it so much worse. Because he chose this and now they suffer for it and he suffers for it too and blames himself (rightfully so), but it still hurts.

And then Lestat. Fuck. I knew this was gonna come (I just couldn't help myself and because of my recklessness saw a spoiler, that he's gonna be there) but that in no way did that knowledge diminish what I felt when I saw him. Because, hell, idk I'm just so excited to finally have him back because I love him but also I hate him and am so scared as to what he's gonna do. He's gonna testify against Louis and Claudia sure but what if he won't? Does he want to kill or fuck Louis? Will his and Armand's past play part in this or is that a box to remain unopened until later?

"You cannot script a hurricane" they said and so this means Lestat will go off script. But to what extent? At least to which it results in burning the theatre down.

The preview didn't help my state, quite the contrary actually. Louis in Paris is scared that Lestat's gonna come. Santiago's laughing. What does Armand feel? Who knows not me, I'm just scared. And excited. I feel like I won't fall asleep for two days after this but it's fine. I'm fine, everything's fine.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

How about something with The Doctor meeting a certain very very old vampire who is just getting used to having become a vampire (after i guess the first feral year)?

You cool with this being Fourteen? I just framed a poster of them that I got recently and this dork's been on the brain since.

Warning: blood, injury because Aro bites the Doctor

On with the fic!

--

"Look at this place!" The Doctor grinned as they stepped out of the TARDIS. The sun was setting, making the buildings in the city the ship was parked on the outskirts of illuminated in warm tones. It was gorgeous, they loved looking at ancient cities in their primes.

They licked a finger and held it up to the gentle breeze before popping their finger back into their mouth. They smacked their lips. "Yep, Greece. Around... 129...6? BCE?" They licked their finger again. "Yep, that's about right."

The Doctor scratched at their head, wondering why the TARDIS stopped here. Then again, she's been a bit... wonky, since the regeneration. Maybe they had been a little too close to her when they had changed.

Well.

That. And things have just been wonky and weird since the regeneration. The snazzy new duds were a big thing. They missed their rainbows and earring. Maybe they could get their ear pierced again, that'd be fun! Wear it with this face, they could pull it off!

But that would have to wait, as something seemed to catch their attention.

Somewhere in the distance, in the dying rays of the sun, was something illuminated. A shining beacon in the darkness.

What was that? The Doctor frowned, tilting their head this way and that, before a manic grin came to them and they decided to investigate. They never could deny themself the chance to look at a shiny object!

Or person, in this case, as the Doctor saw that the object was actually a figure, standing on a hill, overlooking the city. The air smelled off around here, and the Doctor's grin dropped as they continued to stare at the figure.

The stranger turned, seeing the Doctor, before smiling in such a charming way. His skin sparkled, looking like gemstones in the colors of the sunset, and he was...

Well, he was beautiful. The Doctor's run became more of a brisk walk as they approached, before stopping just a few feet away. The man was still smiling at them. "Do you like what you see?" He asked, his voice calm, gentle, and the Doctor felt oddly at ease.

That was alarming.

Actually, this whole thing was alarming. They blinked, shaking their head as the sun finally vanished enough that the shimmering skin looked normal. The man frowned, as if sensing whatever effect he had on them was wearing off.

Suddenly, he was gone.

"What the-?" The Doctor started, before feeling their arms pulled behind their back, the wrists held together in a tight hold by one hand.

Icy breath was against their neck as the collars of their shirt and their jacket was pulled aside. "How curious..." The man said, his tone filled with curiosity and delight. "You smell off, and yet so delicious."

"Unusual comment for me, but I've heard weirder. I'll take it as a compliment, yes?"

"Oh, very much so, my friend." The man said as the Doctor tried to glance back at them, seeing bright, red eyes for just a moment before they cried out at a white-hot pain erupted from their skin.

Did... did this guy just bite them!?

Then they sensed it, a prodding in their mind, as if someone was opening drawers and doors, poking around at thoughts and memories-

The Doctor struggled before swinging a leg back and striking the man right in the shin. He grunted and pulled back as the Doctor slipped away, clutching at their bleeding neck.

Even in the growing darkness, the Doctor could see the blood on the man's lips, the glint of fangs in the light of the rising moon, and the pleased smirk. "My, my, you are very different, aren't you?"

"Didn't know vampires could be telekinetic." The Doctor frowned, feeling the wound heal, they were still in their first fifteen hours of regeneration after all.

"I'm not sure what that is, but I am assuming you sensed my gift then?" The man was smiling, like he was proud. "I'm still getting used to it, took me quite a while to understand what it was I was seeing when I feasted upon my victims."

He tilted his head a little. "Your mind is quite a jumbled mess, so many thoughts and memories, so many... faces. Many of them are yours, yes? Are you not human yourself? Are you... similar to me?"

"No, not human, nor vampire."

"I do not know what that is."

"It's... a term, for what you are, if you are what I think you are."

The man smiled again. "Then tell me what that is, Doctor. That is correct, yes? It was the name I picked up from your mind."

The Doctor frowned, feeling uncomfortable. While they themself were touch telepathic, which seemed to be the same boat this guy was a passenger on, it was still always an unpleasant experience to have someone poking about in your brain. "Yeah, that's my name, and you are?"

"Aro, as it was my name before I was changed a year or so ago." The smile faltered, a dark look crossed his face. "Tell me, do you know what I have become? For the one who changed me does not seem to know either, just that we are... different from what we were."

They really didn't want to tell this Aro guy anything, they should return to the TARDIS, but... oh... they were always such a blabber mouth, no matter what face they had, and this one was infamous for their gob.

Plus, Aro really did seem to not know, had he been like this for a year without any knowledge of his condition?

And what exactly was said condition? Vampires don't sparkle? Right? Was he a human who was infected by a new species? Or maybe an alien?

Oh, curiosity was always the Doctor's greatest addiction, and even this one couldn't resist her call.

--

Is this a trick on Aro's part to get the Doctor to stick around a little longer so he can drain them of their rich, alien, two-heart-pumped blood?

:)

[anotheranimestan]

hi! I just read “all bark no bite” and omg it was so good!! looking forward to more of your writing and possible a part 2 if you get the chance!

Thank you!!!!!😃🧡 Your wish is my command!

All Bark No Bite (pt. 2)

Bakugo angst + sexual tensionnnn

Read part 1 here

wc: 3k

I hope this is as fun for you to read as it is for me to write! Also why is he 👇 this fineee for no reason.

The next morning, you woke up trying to convince yourself it was all a dream...or a nightmare. But the way you could still feel the softness of his fingers around your neck completely contradicted your wishes. You also had to keep wiping little smiles off your face throughout your entire morning routine. You tried to combat them by listing all the things you hated about Bakugo but it was helpless. Every train of thought ended with the shape of his lips and how nicely they molded with yours.

You and Mina walked to class together and you swore she’d developed a mind reading quirk. You felt her eyes on you like a blazing sun. Although this was really all in your head. She only asked “are you okay?” because you kept looking at her like you’d committed a hate crime.

You and Bakugo didn’t look at each other once during class. No leg shaking, pen stealing or insults. Not even a well timed scoff when you were called on to answer a question. You tried your best to clear your mind and forget everything that had occurred in that hall last night. After a while of this torture you even were having a little bit of success.

But of course your peace was ruined as you walked to lunch. He couldn’t let you have anything. And of course he wasn’t going to leave you alone.

“Hey Little Bite, I hear we get to pick our groups for combat training today. All Might is going to make me a team captain, obviously. So if you want to be on my team let me know. I mean I assume you don’t wanna lose. You just gotta ask me nicely.” His usual cocky tone crept under your skin.

You desperately tried to ignore him as he followed you. Each footstep he started gaining on you being more annoying than the last. But what really did it was the pencil he threw at your head.

“Please, actively do not pick me.”

He ignored your objection and continued on his line of bullshit.

“I suppose I could take you. Your quirk would be useless, I’m all the attack power we’d need to win but I could use you as a decoy or something.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t want to be on a team with you, moron. Your pea brain doesn’t know how to do anything but blow shit up. You’re like an explosive cave man. Besides being too close to you for too long makes me wanna vomit.”

He cackled. You knew exactly what he was thinking and immediately regretted your words.

“That��s weird—“

You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it at his head. But he just caught it and made it explode with a smug look on his face.

“Ugh. I cannot stand you.” You groaned.

“You sure about that?” He said with a suggestive eyebrow.

He was so hot....it made you want to punch him in the throat. Without thinking you shrugged off your backpack and swung it at his face. His reflexes bested you again though and he caught the bag, yanking it from you. The force was harder than you expected, it sent you flying into his chest. You both tumbled to the ground and landed shoulder to shoulder. Your skull hit a small rock with a wack. Rubbing the back of your head, shooting pain surfaced.

“Ow!! That fucking hurt dumbass!”

“Sor—“

You swung your arm, aiming to kill, and hit him in the stomach.

It must have really knocked the wind out of him because he made a loud grunting noise that hinted at his surprise. It wasn’t often people got to land a punch on Katsuki Bakugo. King Explosion Murder.

“Do that shit again Little Bite! You’ll regret it!” He grabbed your wrist, attempting to clear a way to get you back. You both started wresting trying to punch each other in the gut. Literally rolling around in the grass in a red hot death match of who could out curse the other.

“Omg, are you guys about to kiss right now?” Mina teased from out of absolutely nowhere, scaring the shit out of you.

You both froze solid as the blood drained from your face. She knew about last night? How did she find out?!

“You told her!?” Bakugo’s entire face was contorting through a whole range of emotions. Shock, horror, embarrassment, accusation, cheekiness, embarrassment again.

“What!?” You panicked. “No! I didn’t!” You swear you didn’t. You replayed your whole morning in your head just to double check.

You turned to your pink friend. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open. You watched the gears turn in her head as she realized she’d stumbled upon a miraculously juicy discovery.

“OH. MY. GOD!!! No freaking way!!” She squealed unable to contain herself.

She started blabbering as she attempted to cope with this information. She had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

Your stomach fell as you realized this fatal error. Wait....this wasn’t your error. You pushed him off you and you both scrambled to your feet.

“This is your fault! Why’d you say that!” You shoved a finger in Bakugo’s chest. Which actually hurt because....he’s solid.

“Don’t yell at me!” He yelled back at an even louder volume.

Mina started running around in little circles. “They kissed!!!” She then abruptly stopped in her tracks and you watched a lightbulb flicker on.

No.....

“KIRISHIMA!!!! KAMINARI!!!” She screamed as she ran toward the cafeteria.

“MINA DONT YOU FUCKING DA—“ Bakugo exploded into a full sprint to chase her down. But she was like a rocket.

You chased after them desperately trying to reconcile all this is your mind. But it was no use, your brain was melting. Everyone was about to find out. The relentless jokes...they would never end. You could die right here.

Both of them ran so fast you fell horribly behind. By the time you rounded the corner and caught up to them a whole event had already taken place.

Bakugo was screaming on the top of his lungs. You could practically see the steam coming off the top of his head.

Kaminari was standing there in his stupid form with a half torn shirt. Jesus, what did Bakugo do to him?

Mina and Kirishima were laying on the ground, their face covered in tears. They were laughing so hard no sounds were even coming out.

“Oh my god,” Mina squeaked out between gasps for air, “Bakugo has a crush.”

“It’s so adorable!” Kirishima said wiping the tears from his eyes as he attempted to stop laughing. With no success, they both bursted again after seeing Bakugo slamming his fists into the grass. The teasing was making him want to rip his eyes out. He couldn’t stand it.

“Shut up Kirishima!!!” He jumped on top of his friend and started repeatedly banging his head into the ground. Of course this did absolutely nothing to the hard head. It just made him laugh even more.

Poor Denki just stood there drooling with a little smile on his face and giggling.

You were frozen. Stunned. It was like watching a comedy movie in which you were the punchline.

But all the laughs fell a silent as a furious voice cut through the air.

“What is this.” It wasn’t a question. Mr. Aizawa looked like he hadn’t slept in three days and this used up his last bit of patience.

“Bakugo. Get off him immediately.” He growled.

You knew how this looked. Bakugo was attacking Kirishima after successfully making Kaminari fry his own brain. Your friends’ laughter wasn’t enough to hide Bakugo’s apparent violence even if it was over something as stupid as a kiss. Mr. Aizawa couldn’t possibly know that.

“I overlooked your behavior yesterday, picking a fight with Miss. y/n. But now attacking your other classmates as well? This is violent behavior is unacceptable.”

“Mr. Aizawa—“ Kirishima tried to defend his friend but it was no use.

“Not another word.” Your teacher was glaring at Bakugo with laser beams.

The hot head just stood there in silence with a scowl on his face and two tightly clenched fists. He was really just going to take the heat for everyone? No arguments?

“I’m putting you on house arrest for the rest of the day. No more classes and no combat training.” You watched the dagger go through Bakugo’s chest. Today was going to be offensive training with All Might. You knew he was looking forward to it. Guilt punched your core.

“Mr. Aizawa wait. I’m the one who picked a fight with him yesterday. I challenged him. He shouldn’t get into trouble because of me.” You shuffled toward him timidly. He was scary when he was like this.

Everyone looked at you in surprise. They all knew it was true, that you’d egged him on. And he wouldn’t be raging right now if you hadn’t kissed, so today was also partially your fault. But they were truly surprised because you normally would revel in Bakugo getting scolded. But you weren’t fucking evil. And this wasn’t Bakugo’s fault at all...although he really needed to get his fucking temper in check. Idiot.

“Is that true?” Aizawa asked Bakugo.

The hot head took a deep breath. “Does that sound like me at all? I’d never give into her weak attempts at baiting me. I fought her because I wanted to.”

Your eyes popped out at his words. He lied. Why the fuck would he do that?

Mr. Aizawa escorted Bakugo to the dorms, lecturing the entire way.

“This sucks.” Kirishima said with a frown.

“I know. I feel so bad!” Mina cried sadly.

You had no words. The four of you walked to lunch with drooping heads. You held Kaminari’s hand the whole way until his brain recharged.

Recalling you’d left your backpack in the quad you ran back to get it. Upon arrival you realized Bakugo’s backpack was also there. He wouldn’t even have his stuff with him to finish homework or study during house arrest. You groaned. This guilt was horrible. It ate at you for rest of the day. The rest of your friends didn’t feel any better. And combat training wasn’t the same for you without that familiar sound of explosions going off in the background. It actually made the class feel kind of empty.

As usual at the end of the day you sat in the common area with the rest of the girls.

“So...is it true y/n?” Ochaco poked hesitantly.

You glared at Mina. Loose lips as usual.

“Sorry y/n. I talk when I’m stressed.” Mina cried only kind of regretful.

You sighed. You didn’t have the heart to actually be upset with her. You were the villain here. Getting Bakugo into so much trouble.

“Yea.” You huffed out. Talking about it made you cringe. It was like admitting your sworn rival had defeated you somehow. Even if you sort of didn’t mind the way he did it...

“What was it like?” Mina asked excited for the details.

“Is he a good kisser?” Ochaco added.

Your mind fell into a fog as you replayed the kiss again. Your skin went electric as you remembered the feel of his hands on your waist and those noises he was making. His lips wrapped around yours....

“Oh my god...Ochaco shes in love!” Mina concluded from you zoning out for what ended being like 15 seconds of you staring into space with a little smile on your face. She was practically singing.

“I am not!” You yelled flustered.

“Why are so many people yelling today?” Kirishima chuckled as he rounded the corner to join the couch.

“So is he mad?” Mina’s voice had changed into the sad one from earlier.

“I don’t know. Every time I knock he just tells me to go away. But that’s not that different from normal honestly.” He smiled. Their friendship was so odd.

Suddenly his backpack flashed through your mind. It was sitting in your room.

You got up to leave. You tried to be sneaky about it as they discussed how to cheer the victim up. But to no avail, they’d never let you sneak off again.

“Where you going huh?” Mina’s voice was painfully suggestive.

“To my room!”

“Uh huh, we’ve heard that one before.”

You stuck your tongue at her.

Kirishima twisted to face you over the back of the couch. “So if I ask Bakugo tomorrow if he saw you tonight he’s gonna say no, right?” Who knew he could be this ruthless. No mercy.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. You’d been cornered.

“Look. He left his backpack earlier and I’m just going to give it to him! Jeez do you want to do it or something Kiri?” You were seething.

“Nahh, you should do it. He’ll just yell at me to go away again.” He winked. It made you cringe again.

You could peel your skin off from this teasing. But you know someone who hated it even more. You knew that’s why he wouldn’t let Kirishima into his room.

You ran off before they could crack any more jokes.

On your way to the elevators you heard a creepy cackle come from somewhere. You spun around, alarmed, as a “what the fuck” escaped your lips. Your eyes landed on one eyeball peeking through the crack of a doorway.

“Can I get a kiss too?” The voice was wet with drool and lust. “Just one?”

“I will kick your face in Mineta.”

The door quickly shut. Did Mina tell the fucking whole class!?

With more haste now you stormed to your room to get the stupid backpack that was causing you so many problems and made your way to your other problem’s door.

Before you knocked you realized your hands were shaking. Nervous? Seriously, over this moron? You shook it off with resolve and knocked.

“Fuck off Denki, for the hundredth fucking time I’m busy!” A gruff voice yelled from behind the door.

“Oh please, busy with what?” You retorted reflexively. Earlier you had decided you were going to try to be nicer but that sentiment wore off as soon as you heard his annoying voice.

The door swung open.

“What do you want?” He said with a raised eyebrow.

Your mind went blank. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Of course it made his biceps look better than normal. He was wearing a black t-shirt that made his skin look perfectly tanned and was snug in all the right places. And why did he always smell so good damn. Today it was like vanilla and woodsy aftershave.

Stop staring. Stop staring. Speak bitch.

“Here’s your backpack. You should keep better track of it. I had to carry it around all day. That’s annoying.” You tossed it at him.

Why couldn’t you say anything nice? He took the heat for everyone. It’s like your mouth was rebelling against you.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Maybe you should work out more weakling.”

Panic panged in your chest as he started to shut the door in your face.

“Wait—“ you stopped it with your hand.

He paused. Mild interest dawned his brow.

“Why—why did you lie?”

“What?”

“To Mr. Aizawa. You could have told him it was my fault.”

“What do you care?” He pressed. His tone always managed to infuriate you.

You spun on your heels and started to walk away. “Nevermind.”

“Because I felt bad. You hurt your stupid head.”

You’d forgotten about that with all the guilt that had been overrunning your head. It didn’t even hurt anymore. You were surprised he’d even noticed.

“Oh.”

“But obviously you’re fine now so I guess it was all for nothing.” He added quickly trying to sound indignant.

The guilt punched you again. Especially now that you were face to face with him. He didn’t even look mad. He actually looked calm. And he looked good. You tried to deny your attraction to him. But flashes of his hand on your waist started invading your mind again. You could feel him wrapped around your neck. The way he was gentle and rough at the same time.

“Instead of just standing there you could actually make yourself useful. You owe me anyways.”

You snapped out of it trying not to look flustered. You shot him a confused and slightly offended look.

“Fill me in on what I missed in class...” he explained. He wouldn’t make direct eye contact though.

“Are you saying you need my help?” You had to do it. You couldn’t not take an opportunity.

“Tch. Obviously no—“

“Let’s do it. Move.” You said as you pushed past him into his room. Your hand made full contact with his abs and you felt that heat again.

He shut the door behind you and your heart started off like a race horse as you heard him lock it.

You suspected it was to lock the other boys out. God forbid they catch you in his room after all this.

Shit....you were in his room. Alone. With your hot head. The day after he kissed you. The evening after he took all the fury of Mr. Aizawa for you and moments after he asked you to help him study even though he gets way better grades than you.

He cleared a spot for you to sit on his bed and then leaned back into his chair with his hands locked behind his head. His flexing muscles were distracting you again.

“You better actually remember everything.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him.

His words were supposed to rile you but the way he looked at you, like he was secretly loving that you were here was making your stomach flutter. You could feel your face red and you prayed he wouldn’t notice. At this rate you were going to throw yourself at him before he had the chance to kiss you again. As long as you two didn’t start fighting again first.....

~~

💥 YES there will be a pt 3!!! 💥

It’s going to be called “sTuDyiNg” HAHA (hint: Bakugo doesn’t actually wanna study “dumbass”)

Update: Pt.3 is up now!! Read it here

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 7- Touch Me Under The Stars

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Now that Bucky is finally out of Cryo, the two of you adjust to life in Wakanda.

Warning: fluff, smut (it gets spicy), Bucky being soft

Masterlist

Life in Wakanda was something you could never have ever dreamed of, they literally had everything here. The buildings were huge, the people so interesting and lively, the scenery absolutely breathtaking, and the tech? Out of this fucking world to put it bluntly. Tony Stark who?

Though you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to be fully satisfied with your new corner of the globe, you had a place to exist and feel comfortable in, even a nice apartment overlooking the city that’s attached to where Bucky is currently being held in.

Right. Bucky.

He’s been on your mind as of late, well in actuality he’s been consuming most of your brain processing for the past couple weeks since you and him arrived here with T’Challa and Steve after the mess in Siberia.

Another painful memory added to the already long list of traumatic experiences endured by you throughout these past sixty or so years. But you’re surviving, well enough for the most part that is; you see Steve left soon after Bucky went into the Cryo chamber. Leaving yourself all on your lonesome in a strange new country with no friends but T’Challa.

If you could even consider him a friend.

Who by the way, makes you still feel pretty uncomfortable around considering all the times you beat the shit out of each other in the past, and he thought you and Bucky killed his dad, so it’s been light treading even if he insists it’s all in the past.

On a lighter note you met his little sister Shuri, who upon discovering who you were and what you can do, immediately began marveling at the fact that you have Adamantium claws in your forearms. She was thoroughly impressed and asked for you to cut a lot of random expensive looking objects for scientific purposes only.

Well that’s what she claimed at least. Other then then those two, you’ve been pretty solitary for the most part. Which has really started getting to you recently, something that T’Challa has begun to notice.

That man is too observant for his own good.

Wind rustles the jungle trees from outside this large glass window in the lounging area of King T’Challa’s extravagant home. They sway freely in the open sun as they stretch their great green leaves to the beautiful sky above. But no bout of joy resides in your heart this day, no matter how enticing the weather may appear.

Soon a new presence is felt in the room, though it’s nothing to be alarmed about as he walks to your side, a thoughtful yet concerned expression crossing over his kingly features, “Are you finding your stay here welcoming Y/N?” Wonders T’Challa softy as you slowly blink.

“I am.”

He frowns, you’ve been quit talkative before, but now you barely even speak to anyone, “My friend I know you are not alright. Please tell me what troubles your heart.”

Dammit he’s good.

Sighing, you hug your sides as he patiently awaits an honest answer, frowning, you reluctantly begin, “I thought I would be fine....I’ve always been alone for most of my life anyways. Never counted on anyone but myself. Never needed anyone but myself. That’s how I survived. It’s just now.....I have Bucky. And I care about him more then anything in the world, but he’s gone.......well not really but, you know.” You whisper before turning your head towards some tall trees so that the king cannot see the way that your eyes brim with unshed tears. God the ache you feel for him is almost unbearable.

Understanding your deep sorrow from your lovers absence, T’Challa slowly nods, “I cannot fully express an understanding of your pain, as I have never felt it like the way that you have now. Nor have I lived the life of your own.” He admits as you turn your head to catch him in your peripheral vision, not quit ready to meet his unthreatening gaze.

He swallows before continuing, “But this I do know, you are a warrior if I’ve ever known one, and I know many.” Chuckles the king, “You fight fiercely and love deeply, Bucky should be proud to have you by his side. I may envy that kind of love, though I should not say it, it is true.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek as you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand, “Love.” You whisper softly in thought, “I do love him, yes....very much. I’ve been withdrawn lately, because well, I guess I miss him more then I’d realize I would. I hope your people help him. That’s all I ask for, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You might not be waiting quit that long actually.” Reveals Shuri as her familiar footsteps wander into the large sun-lite room overlooking the jungle, “My team just needs a couple more days with him and he’ll be good to go for the most part. Though the process of fully becoming free from the trigger words may take a little longer....his mind will still need time to heal.” Explains Shuri as she moves to stand on your left, opposite of her half-brother.

At this your heart speeds up with excitement, eyes turning to face the smiling princess , “I don’t want to threaten royalty, but I might break a couple of your lounge chairs if you’re lying to me. I’m not joking.” You add half jokingly as T’Challa lightly chuckles.

“Now I do not doubt that.”

——

Today you’ve been summoned into the lab in preparation for Bucky’s defrosting, claiming that having a familiar face as the first thing he sees was probably the best for when he wakes up again, at least that’s what the doctors told you.

And of course you didn’t even hesitate to say yes. So now here you are in their cleaner then a soap bottle lab, standing nervously a couple feet away from the Cryo chamber as some scientists go about their duties to his left. It’s strange, he looks relatively peaceful and serene, like he’s having a nice little nap while standing upright and covered in frost.

Nonetheless Bucky looks handsome as always, soon a tiny subconscious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you await the aftermath of the defrosting process. A button is hit and the familiar whoosh of the air chamber fills your ears as bouts of warm white steam push up into the air from the bottom and sides of his chamber.

The inside goes foggy before one of the scientists flicks a switch and the glass door pops open to emit a plethora of tiny clouds that float up and dissipate just as quickly. In the aftermath, your eyes search for Bucky, he’s still sleeping and is covered in a couple specks of blue frost, his hair undoubtedly wet from the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Give him a moment, he may be slightly disoriented as the body wakes up again.” Explains Shuri from the doorway as you bite your bottom lip anxiously in anticipation for when he’s finally conscious.

“Right.” You nod in understanding, “Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.” You mutter with a depressing chuckle.

A second later you’re alerted to the sound of someone sucking in a deep breath, immediately your head snaps over to witness as Bucky stirs, his fingers curl back to life as his lips part. Then soon after his two icy blue pools slowly reveal themselves to the rest of the lab as he takes a look around.

Your fists grip tightly onto the fabric of your jacket as Bucky swallows before blinking back the slight blur of waking up from a couple weeks of hibernation. The scientists, Shuri, and you study his movements as Bucky’s brow raises in thought, his eyes only on you.

“How longs it been?” He wonders before taking a step to get out of the Cryo chamber.

“Exactly a month and a half Mr. Barnes.” Chirps Shuri enthusiastically as he nods in understanding before she gives a glance between the two of you, “Alright, I’ll give you and Miss. Valerious some time to catch up while we check your vitals.” Adds the princess before exiting out the door, the other scientists following suit.

Now it’s just you and your Bucky; glancing at the floor, the two of you wander into a semi-awkward silence before he finally breaks the ice, “You look good.” He mutters softly, a small reassuring smile on his pink lips as your eyes trail up to meet his.

Revealing a breathy laugh, you shrug, “Hardly. But you on the other hand, white, I like it. It’s a good color on you.”

His stubbled cheeks flush pink as he smiles brightly, “I think I remember you telling me the exact same thing before I went under.”

“Well I just told you again, because I mean it.”

“Well I like the new style..” Points Bucky to your outfit, “it’s Wakandian but very Y/N.....I like it.”

Shaking your head you begin giggling at his adorable compliment, “Barnes you’re too much....but seriously, how do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Thirsty?”

He smiles, “No, uh....I actually feel pretty good honestly. I could go for something to eat though, I’m starving.”

Walking over you gently take his hand in yours, “Say no more. T’Challa’s got everything here.”

——

After Bucky got readjusted and evaluated by Shuri’s team of incredible scientists and brilliant doctors, Bucky was well on his way to a full recovery from the years of mental torture given to him by Hydra. The words didn’t affect him anymore, the anxiety surrounding the very thought of breaking and turning on everyone again was a thing of the past.

He was your Bucky, completely.

In the following days after, T’Challa found a nice place on the outskirts of the grand city where you and Bucky could lay low and recover for some time as needed. Not wanting to over due your stay in his lavish home, and also wanting to feel the breeze again, you both agreed to live in a little village on the edge of a large pond.

All of it was Wakanda, so neither you nor Bucky stressed any worry that the Romanian and German authorities would come bursting through the front gates to whisk you away for your crimes. Or Tony Stark for that matter, he definitely hates you guys without a doubt in your mind.

Definitly with good reason, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever dare give Bucky up.

But on to greener pastures, it’s truly a possible thing that you’ve never seen Bucky in colors besides black or faded red shirts. But now? He wanders around in the brilliantly beautiful colors of Wakanda and her people with a brighter smile on his lips and lack of one arm for the time being.

Ah yes, the arm.

For the most part he’s been fine about it, though he needs your assistance when getting dressed or when attempting to wash the grime from his growing mane. Although, and fortunately for you, he’s still quit proficient in the area of love making with no decline in performance with lack of one arm, much to your satisfaction and his.

Besides that, it’s amusing, since you’ve been staying in this little friendly village, the kids have begun calling him the White Wolf when they want his attention. Which in turn earns a small smile upon his lips, one because he knows you usually hear it and think it’s adorable, and two it’s probably the first honestly kind thing anyone has ever placed on him, ever.

Walking across the villages center area, past huts and ladies washing some of their tunics, you follow the excited rambling of one of the village children as she talks a mile a minute about how you just have to see this really cool thing right now without exception. So of course you have to see this really cool thing, right now.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come! Faster you’re going to miss it, hurry you’re being slow.” Urges Ryn’a with a wave of her hand as she beckons you to starts running with her.

Heeding to her urgent request, you give her aunt a pursed lip grind before racing after the sprinting child, “This better be very interesting, or I’ll throw you into the water again!” You playfully threaten as she giggles across the grassy field.

Soon you’re crouching behind a rock as she peeks over the stony edge, ducking back down, she gives you a mischievous grin, “The White Wolf doesn’t see us.”

Raising a brow you nod, “This is what you wanted me to see? Him?”

Shaking her head she rolls her dark eyes in amusement, “No. We’re hunting.” She smirks in excitement as your brows furrow in confusion. Huh?

“Uh.....what?” Suddenly you connect the dots, “Are we hunting the White Wolf?” You ask, pretty damn positive that’s where this little adventure is going.

Shaking your shoulder excitedly she squeaks with joy before instantly catching herself and quieting down real quick, “He’s just over this rock. Chopping wood for the fire tonight....we need to hit him with a stick okay, then we run.”

Slowly nodding, your eyes trail over her excited face, “Hmm, okay. But I gotta ask, did Kova put you up to this and I’m now an accomplice?”

Biting her bottom lip, she diverts her gaze to the bushes behind you before mumbling out, “He might have......and if I was to hit the White Wolf on his head without getting caught. I’d get to play the drums for the fire tonight.” She whispers almost embarrassed.

Giving her a kind smile, you gently touch her shoulder in reassurance as she looks to you now, “Well then. Looks like we’re on a wolf hunt today, huh. Lucky for you, I’m great at throwing sticks.”

Immediately she squeals in joy before standing as still as stone, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t think he heard a sound.” You reply, snatching a ruler sized stick from the ground before peeking over the grey sun kissed rock.

There he is, in his red tunic completely oblivious, using a Vibranium axe to chop away at the wood for tonight’s fire dance. Sitting back down, you press your back against the stone as Ryn’a clenches her fists in excited anticipation, “Ready, Y/N?” You nod as she smiles.

“Okay good....don’t miss.” She warns.

“I never miss.” You muse before turning back around, your eyes peek up over the edge and watch as Bucky sets another log on the flat rock, he hauls the axe down, splitting the wood in two.

Setting the axe down again, he walks over to the small log pile before selecting one and setting it back on the flat rock, bending down to grab the axe and when he stands to his full height again...

Smack!

Instantly the dry weather worn stick flies from the back of his head to the ground below as he throws a wary look in your direction. Though he sees absolutely nothing but a big grey rock and some bushes. Touching the back of his head, he looks down and swiftly picks up the relatively unthreatening piece of dried wood.

Studying it like it’s the holy grail and will give him all the answers to eternal life and whatnot, he throws it to the ground before continuing with his duties as you turn back to Ryn’a. “That was a good hit.....can you do it again? Please?” Mutters the little beast as you settle down from that adrenaline rush of perfectly nailing Bucky in the back of his head without getting caught.

Let’s not forget you were one of Hydra’s most deadliest assassins.

Her dark chocolate eyes stare pleadingly and puppy-like as she fake pouts, “Please Y/N? I won’t ever leave another turtle in your house ever again....promise. I promise, please?” She quietly begs as you contain your laughter.

“Yeah alright. But you’re gonna have to run cause he’s probably gonna figure out where the second one came from.” You add with a smirk, “I’ll deal with the wolf after. I can take him.”

“Yes!” She squeaks, “Oh, sorry I mean....yes.” She whispers quietly as you search for a new stick to throw.

Soon enough you find another and cautiously look around the side of the rock this time, there’s Bucky, setting another log on the flat rock before slicing it in half. Instantly the biggest grin pulls your lips into a Cheshire Cat smile as he turns to grab another log.

Smack!

“Hey! Who was that?!” He shouts in confusion as Ryn’a bursts with laughter before booking it back to the safety of the village while you crouch there behind a rock cackling like a child.

God that was such an accurate hit too. And he didn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly you hear the sounds of feet running against the earth, when Bucky makes it to the back of the large rock you’re nowhere to be found. Brows furrowing, he looks at the bushes and then over to the nearby village before shaking his head and turning around to walk back over to his usual duties for the day.

Only now he’s confronted by the casually innocent face of you who’s standing there with the axe slung over your shoulder, “Something scare you Barnes?” You muse with a small laugh before nodding towards the wood, “I mean these logs can be pretty scary I won’t hold it against you. You might have seen a snake, who knows.”

Sauntering back over to you he stands there for a moment just observing your casually calm self, “Why do I have a suspicion you just hit me with a stick. Twice.”

Shrugging, you slam the axe into the dirt before rising up to meet his humored gaze, “Maybe it was a Rhino, maybe it was a little nine year old who needed me to win her a drum. Guess you’ll never know.”

Glancing from the ground then back up to you again, Bucky shakes his head at your theatrical antics, warm smile ghosting across his lips, “Well just so you know it didn’t hurt.” Assures your big tough man with a nod.

“I’ll use a bigger stick next time.” You quip as he takes a step closer to you.

Handsome face breaking out into a beaming grin, “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’m tired of chopping wood.” He says as his fingers ghost against the bare skin of your sleeveless shoulders, “I just want to be with you.”

Touching the side of of his stubbly cheek affectionately, you smile, “Where too? By the pond?” Which causes him to snort a breathy laugh.

“No, I don’t trust you by open water.”

You shrug in agreement, remembering the first time you both arrived here and the children brought you into a splashing fight where you got Bucky’s hair all wet, “Yeah that’s fair.”

——

After enjoying a pleasant evening walk together, eating a delicious traditional Wakandian meal, and watching the performers for the celebration dance and beat on their drums for hours into the night. You and Bucky decided to steal away from the festivities and have a little moment together under the stars, just you and him, nothing and no one else.

“That was nice wasn’t it.” You mutter as he lays on his back next to you, “I like these people. They’re kind.”

Turning his head to meet your shadowed face, he smiles adoringly as you keep a steady gaze set on the stars above, “Well, no ones trying to kill us so I’d say we’re doing alright.”

“We are, aren’t we. Who would have thought that shit huh? Two ex-assassins, two fucked up people like us laying like sappy teenagers under the stars. This almost feels like some stupid romantic film.”

Bucky lets out a proper laugh this time as you send him a humored look, “What? I’m being honest!”

Quickly he rolls onto his side to face you, a new sultry flicker flashing through his dark gaze, “Maybe I like being sappy with you.” He mutters lovingly before trailing a finger across your jaw as you study his face.

“Sappy with me? Why Mr. Barnes are you flirting with me this fine evening?” You muse with a breathy chuckle as he smiles brightly down at you.

“I was hoping you’d notice, is it working?” He asks, a hopeful look in his dark blue eyes.

Leaning closer, he’s pleasantly surprised when you gently press your lips to his, “My God James you’re making me swoon.” You jest before snickering at your shitty old-timey accent replacing the Eastern European one, “Why I’ve never met such a character, now tell me Mr. Barnes, are you a single man?”

Holding in his laughter, he takes a breath before answering, “Doll, I’m taken.”

Gasping in mock surprise, you quickly sit up before pushing him onto his back by both shoulders, your legs to either side of his torso as your faces keep mere inches apart, “Well, well, well how about that.” You slyly tisk, your natural accent dripping heavily as it sends a thrill through Bucky, “Lucky woman indeed. But I can guarantee you, I’m much more enticing.”

Bucky shivers as you lean your body closer to his, your silky hands to either side of his flushed face as you smile a devilish grin in the darkness, “I don’t doubt it.” He rasps, voice just barley above a whisper, lips so close to yours now you could almost taste him.

“I just realized something.” You suddenly mumble against his plush inviting lips.

Bucky hums in reply, to completely and utterly enthralled by your seductive charm to even form a coherent sentence, you smirk before rising to properly sit up against him, “Bucky, you look better in the dark.”

His stomach rises with a deep laugh that rubs pleasingly against your growing warmness as he gently squeezes a hand on your right thigh, “You’re gonna get it for that one.” He muses, appearing like he’s about to flip you over but you’re not having any of that.

Pressing a hand against his firm chest, you suddenly grind your clothed nether regions slowly and meticulously against his lower stomach. He quickly lets out a low guttural moan as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Pulling away, you rest one hand on the thin Wakandian blanket that’s keeping you two from the dirty ground below, your other hand gently trailing down the side of his stubbly face, “Just let me make love to you okay? If you want that i...”

“Yes!” Interrupts Bucky with a great bout of enthusiasm before catching himself, “I mean....uh, yes please.” He mutters, failing to regain his composure as you circle your hips against his fiery skin. Oh, you are certainly enjoying yourself.

Smiling into the half moonlight, your eyes trail cautiously over to the burning village bond-fire a small trek away, seeing everyone laughing and minding their sweet business you then immediately pull your shirt off, your bra following right after just as quickly. Laying discarded on the nearby grass for later; Bucky’s eyes go wide with lust as the outline of your curves and protruding breasts flash like gold in the moonlight.

God you’re so beautiful, he thinks, and all mine.

The smile that Bucky gives you could just about light up a room on the darkest of nights, he wants you, he needs to be consumed by you, to feel you for all that you are. You can see it by the way that he rubs your partially exposed thigh, by the way his eyes never leave yours and when they do it’s to wander around your divine vessel.

He’s never been more in love then in this very moment, if that’s even possible; he’s never really spoken too deeply about it, his time with Hydra. But he’s undoubtedly glad that you found him when you did, he was in a dark place then. Lost and alone, on the run and keeping to the shadows as best he could from the rest of the hungry eyes of the world.

Then one day out of the blue you showed up with nothing but your wits and a kind smile to show you meant no harm, all you wanted was to see him again after all that time apart from your escape and his imprisonment with Hydra. He was sent to kill you, but you came back to him anyways.

He didn’t understand it at first, when he began to realize what falling in love truly felt like, but with time it came to him. At first sight wasn’t something that happened by any means, he was nervous to see you, standing there so innocently in his apartment in Bucharest. He thought he was being careful, he thought he was safe.

But then Hydra’s most prized weapon and most difficult one at that, you, had shown up to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t believe it, but what scared him the most as he let you stay with him, he was slowly but surly beginning to fall in love with you.

Now that was a new feeling he hadn’t felt in decades, you intrigued him, made him laugh with the simplest of offhanded side comments, made him try to be a better person. And most of all you made him feel wanted and loved, and that is something he will always hold dearly to his very heart and soul.

Because as you’ve said to him, you’re his ride or die no exception, you’ll always be there to throw a punch for him or to gather himself in your arms when the darkness threatens to consume him for all he’s worth.

You’re not afraid of him like so many are, you don’t run from danger, oh no, when Bucky’s concerned. You’re ass will fight to exhaustion to keep him safe and alive. Which so far has proved a very useful state of mind in consideration to the past events that have currently led you two on this ever changing roller coaster.

From Bucharest to Berlin, a flight to Siberia and a long skip down to Wakanda; you two will be by each other’s side no matter the distance. Because to put it bluntly, you’re all Bucky has left in the world and Bucky is all you have either, one without the other would be a dreadful existence.

Luckily for you, Bucky’s incredibly alive and doing pretty damn alright all things considered. Also for the current moment, he’s becoming an undone mess underneath you. Which is just what you’ve wanted, he deserves it.

Trailing a fiery pathway of butterfly kisses from his collarbone all the way up to his neck and jawline, Bucky emits a deep groan of pleasure as you palm him through his baggy pants that have started to tent with the pull of his growing hardness.

His lower half is still clothed while your whole body is free for the shimmering stars to bear witness to, and Bucky of course. “Y/N. Please.” He rasps as you feel up his clothed manhood while you grind tirelessly against his bare stomach, the sensation no doubt drawing you into a blissful rising climax to follow.

Stopping your pleasurable attack to his hardened member, you swiftly roll off of him as you decide it’s time to get things rolling, “Alright hot stuff get that shit off, I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

“Give me a sec...” Grunts Bucky as he kicks off his pants into the grass before you help him prepare to slip off his underwear, holding the top rim of the fabric, you generously pull it to his ankles before he kicks them off completely.

He chuckles as your face flashes with delight once all the goods are finally shown at long last, “See something you like?” Quips your man as your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze, huh were you staring?

A hot second later you’re hovering directly above his heated body as he strains from grabbing your soft hips and pushing your slick entrance into him. He wants you to enjoy yourself more then anything in the world, so instead does he pull you in for a heated kiss.

“I see many things that I like.” You whisper against his soft lips before slowly sinking down onto him, the sensation of his fullness and girth pulling you into a world of bliss.

Your smile is almost provocative as he moans, the sounds of his pleasure sending sparks of electricity into your system, “God Buck, you feel so fucking good.” You praise, rolling your hips back and forth against him shamelessly, God he loves it when you sweet talk him

He smirks against the corner of your lips before kissing your cheek, “You.....to-too.” Stutters Bucky while you continue to relentlessly ride him like a wild bull, the rocking of your hips causing him to forget how to properly speak.

He looks absolutely angelic, dark locks spread out upon the Wakandian blanket, shirtless, and face smiling with great happiness and joy that he’s been so terribly deprived of for such a long time. Not anymore. Not if you can help it.

Biting your lip when his member twitches inside you, you’re helpless to stop as a soft voluptuous whimper leaves your parted lips unexpectedly when he bucks his hips into you for some more friction. Noticing how well this new action is being received by you, Bucky does it over and over again until you’re nothing but a moaning mess above him.

Dammit he knows how to make you feel good.

Your body falling fully onto him as he makes you cum hard, “F-fuck.....oh God Buck, fuck me.” You mumble against his lips as he thrusts up into you over and over until he finally spills inside you with a concentrated grunt.

“oh.” You gasp breathlessly as Bucky flips you onto your back in one skilled motion, still deep within your wet warmness as his whole body presses you wonderfully into the soft blanket, “I hope they can’t see us.” You point out as Bucky chuckles before kissing your jawline, strong hips pushing against yours as he parts your legs further with his large body.

“It’s dark out.” Mutters Bucky in reply as he pulls another moan from your sweet lips, “They’re dancing.....and we’re....oh fuck....uhh....yes...” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suddenly squeeze your walls tightly around his cock as a second orgasm hits you, “Dear God Y/N.” Moans Bucky while you trail pink fiery lines down his muscular back.

Smiling against his lips, you fully enjoy the sensation of his thick member sliding in and out of you at a blissfully rapid pace as he continues to make a mess down there with his pleasure inducing actions. You’re incredibly grateful for the fire dance celebration happening a little ways away and all the loud pounding of the tribal drums that masks over the sounds of yours and Bucky’s intense love making on the Wakandian savanna.

Biting your lip, you can’t help when more whiney moans slip from your mouth, he’s a relentless force of lust and love that’s on a mission to see you filled to the brim with pleasure once more. He needs you, he wants every single inch of your heated vessel, he needs you to come for him just one last time.

“Y/N.” Mumbles Bucky against your parted lips as you slowly nod in acknowledgment, too fucked out to think. He smirks, “Cum for me, last time okay.” Says your lover sweetly as his hips roll against your sweaty skin, sending waves of building pleasure on a crash course for your hot core that’s pulsating in delight.

Digging your nails into the slick muscle of his broad back, you suck in a breath while his hard member slides in and out of you with ease. You’re about to come undone right under him yet again, the power of this man you could just about die happy, “Fuck,” You whimper helplessly as he kisses your cheek, “oh God Buck I’m close.”

He smiles proudly as his hips thrust forward, cock sliding deep within your warm walls as his manhood presses on the brim of your entrance, working absolute wonders on your over-stimulated clit.

Soon enough, the tight coil bursts open, sending shock waves of absolute radiant bliss that causes your muscles to tighten and shake reflexively. A sudden wetness slips out around his cock and onto the Wakandian blanket that’s definitely going to need a deep cleaning tomorrow.

The new liquid slides down your inner thighs as your body slowly yet surly comes down from your salaciously erotic climax; head unclouding the thick fog away, you take a deep breath only for yourself to realize you just squirted for the first time ever.

And it appears Bucky has just come to this thrilling realization too, locking eyes with him, you’re greeted with a sly smirk, “Did I just make you squirt?” Muses Bucky in underlying excitement as you simply roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I can deny it considering it’s all over the blanket, among other places.” You sass back, still aware of how he’s still buried deep inside you, “Proud of yourself?” You add with a small laugh.

Kissing your lips in reply, he pushes himself up by his one arm to gently slip out of you before laying in an exhausted heap at your side, “Actually. Yes, I am very proud of myself thanks for asking.” Quips Bucky while his hand trails down your bare rib cage before a huge grin reveals itself in the darkness, “I just made my girlfriend squirt!” Shouts Bucky without a care in the whole goddamn world.

Smacking his arm, you quickly sit up and look around, though it appears no one even knows you two are out here, “Will you shut up!” You whisper yell down at Bucky who’s giving you the biggest white toothed smile ever, “Stop smiling it wasn’t that impressive.”

Faking a half offended look, he pats your leg affectionately, “It was! And you seemed to be enjoying it so just accept that I’ve gotten better at this.”

You scoff, “I never said you weren’t. It’s just we’ve been together for almost three years and that’s the first time I’ve ever done.....that. So..”

“And it just happened so therefore I am amazing and you’re just going to have to accept how hot I am Y/N.”

“Buc..”

“I was getting you all hot and bothered doll.” Winks Bucky seductively as you shake your head at him, a reluctant smile creeping onto your beautiful features anyway.

“God you’re so old.”

Bucky snorts, “And aren’t you 65 or something? Sleeping with a 90 year old man....Y/N you’re getting out of hand.”

Shoving his hand off of your leg, you swiftly fall into his side as his arm curls up to wrap protectively against your waist, “Bucky shut your ass up.” You snicker, “I liked you better when I was on top. All you did was give me that “oh god Y/N oh fuck me ohhh I’m gonna I’m gonna...”

Bucky squeezes your side, “Okay. Okay. I get it you little asshole....let’s just, let’s just rest a moment yeah?”

You hum, shifting yourself so that you can lay against his chest, “Getting mushy on me now Barnes?” You whisper softly with a playful smirk.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his plush lips while he glances down at you, “A little.”

For about twenty minutes the two of you keep silent, just listing to the yelps and thunderous pounding of the drums from farther away. There is no reason to leave, no reason to move, no reason to speak. Just you two, laying wrapped up together in each others loving embrace, taking in the moment for as long as you can. The future is always uncertain, so every single second with Bucky is a blessing to be cherished and consumed for all you can take.

His breaths are slow and steady as you feel the soft rise and fall of his muscular chest that’s pressed against your breasts and face. His fingers run gentle line up and down your naked skin as you hug him close.

“Do you remember when we first saw one another?” Asks Bucky, his voice almost startling you. Lips just barley brush against your naked shoulder as he holds you close, your face nuzzled comfortably against his dark hair.

You pause, eyes blinking as they shift over to Bucky while he awaits an answer, “It was a long time ago Buck.”

“I know. But do you remember?”

Shrugging, you shift a bit to have a better look at his face, “I do. But you were the Winter Soldier and I was.....something I never want to be ever again.” You mutter, the sadness and regret deep in your soft voice.

All goes silent for the next couple minutes before Bucky suddenly kisses your shoulder, “I thought you were beautiful.”

Yours brows raise as you pull from his right grasp to sit up on one elbow while you look down at him, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you hold back tears. You didn’t expect to get this emotional but here you are naked and bare for him, “You did?”

Bucky nods in the darkness, heart hurting when your voice cracks, he’s never told you a word about how he felt when he was a weapon, “And every day after that.”

“oh.”

“I didn’t want them to.....well, you know.....I didn’t want to forget you.” Confesses Bucky, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t. Thank you for finding me Y/N....I owe you my life.”

Biting the bottom of your quivering lip, he smiles adoringly up at you, “Bucky....shut up you’re going to make me cry you bastard.” He laughs as you indeed shed a couple stray tears in this soft moment of vulnerability with your sweet man as he holds you protectively in his arm.

“I mean it...every single word, you mean so much to me Y/N. The world would be a darker place without you in it...”

You lower your head in shame, all those buried memories piling up all at once, “No. No it wouldn’t be....I’m part of the darkness Bucky...you know that..”

“Y/N, look at me, please.” Begs Bucky as you begrudgingly lift your head for him to meet your tearfully sad eyes, “Don’t let them win. What they did to us, what they made us do....you’re so much better then all of that. We’ve changed Y/N, for the better and you know it...the words can’t break me anymore and you, you’re free.”

“Okay.” Is all you’re able to rasp out before more tears fall willingly from your eyes, tiny water droplets of grief and remorse pattering against his bare chest, Bucky’s heart breaks for your pain and loss, and everything those fuckers at Hydra put you through before your escape to freedom.

He knows how much you hate yourself for all the innocent people you killed, granted not many were adherently innocent, but there where many that died by your hand because wrong place wrong time or by Hydra manipulation. Selling you false secrets that painted some people who were indeed good, as the enemy equal to the worst kinds of humans.

He knows, and he refuses to let you fall into this dark pit of despair, “I love you...okay, Y/N I love you so fucking much.” His words are well heard and received as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

There he holds you tightly, there he will protect you with his life, and there he will stay with you under the stars until dawn breaks out over the horizon.

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

-

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[vs-redemption]

Aaa im so sorry for bothering you! Can uou do my request from before (homeless kid) but now with hawks, shigaraki, and fatgum please? Im so sorry if its any trouble but your writing isFANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!

A/N: Phew! Sorry for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I gave you something I was proud of. And don’t worry! You aren’t bothering me. I was actually kind of wishing you’d included Hawks in the first request, and Shigaraki was a fun challenge to write! I really hope these meet your expectations.

A Surprise Meeting (Hawks, Fat Gum, and Shigaraki meet their abused child)

Warning:⚠️Mentions of child abuse and homelessness.⚠️

You can read the same scenario but with Bakugo, Iida, and Aizawa HERE You can read the same scenario but with Todoroki and Dabi HERE

Hawks

Hawks knew his patience would be put to the test whenever the Hero Commission called him in for a face-to-face meeting. He’d opened up his agency as far away from the head office as possible for the sole purpose of avoiding their overbearing attempts to control not only his career, but his personal life as well. He appreciated everything the Commission had done for him to an extent. After all, he never would’ve ended up as such a successful hero if they hadn’t taken him in as a child and given him intensive training to perfect his quirk. There were a lot of things he’d hated about living under the Commission’s thumb though. Because of that, he really hated whenever he had to go back there.

“Thanks for coming today, Hawks.” The president of the organization herself had come to greet him. He gave her a roguish grin despite the fact he wanted to role his eyes. He hated when they thanked him for obeying when it wasn’t like he had a choice anyway. “There’s someone we’d like you to meet.”

Hawks followed the president as she led him deeper into the facility than he’d been in a long time. His wings twitched behind him as unpleasant memories began to surface in his mind. He felt confused and uncomfortable when he was brought into a small observation room that had a view of one of the commission’s training spaces behind a large two way mirror. “Are you going to explain what this is all about?” Hawks jokes to try and ease his own tension, “Or are you keeping me in suspense on purpose?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” The president’s face remains stoic as she turns away and speaks into an intercom. “Bring her in.” Hawks looks into the training room on the other side of the glass and sees a random agent of the commission step through the door with a tiny little girl following closely behind. She looked to be around two years old. Hawks’ jaw drops in disbelief when he sees the two fluffy wings sprouting from the child’s back. He’d seen other people with wing quirks before, but this kid’s resemblance to him was uncanny. Her hair was darker than his, but the black markings around her golden eyes had his mind reeling.

“Of course we did a DNA test,” the president says flatly. “She’s definitely your child.”

Hawks steps away from the glass and runs a hand over his face, letting the information sink in. The commission had so much influence over his personal life that he’d mostly stayed away from any sort of relationship, knowing that there’d be too much drama over maintaining his image and reputation for him to actually enjoy having that kind of connection with someone. Admittedly, he had bent his own rules and caved into pressure once or twice after graduating the commission’s program. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d mostly done it out of spite for all the years he’d spent being micromanaged.

“A woman dropped her off a few days ago,” the president’s voice turns sharp. “How could you let this happen?” Hawks wasn’t interested in a lecture at the moment, so he ignores the question in favor of moving closer to the glass and looking at his daughter more intently. She was cleaned up and wearing a standard uniform provided by the commission, but Hawks didn’t miss the painful looking scratches on her face or the raggedy, burned up ends of the feathers on her wings.

“What happened to her?” he asks, surprising even himself at the low tone of his voice.

“The mother admitted to doing most of it,” the president rattles off the information in a clinically detached way. “They’d also been living out on the street for a while as well, so who knows what might’ve happened.” The news was heartbreaking for Hawks. He hadn’t lived in ideal circumstances at that age either, and he wouldn’t wish that sort of life on anyone.

“Your wings didn’t start to grow back until you were a bit older, so we’re assuming it’ll be the same for her,” the president seemed oblivious to the emotional state of the hero standing next to her. “We’ve already started her on a special diet though, and she’ll begin her training regimen at the beginning of next week.”

Hawks wasn’t sure if it was some bird trait related to his quirk or just the knowledge that he was the kid’s father, but some sort of instinct kicked in with such intensity that it washed away any feelings of duty or habits of obedience that had been programmed into his brain.

“You’re not keeping her,” he says fiercely. The president just raises her eyebrows at him.

“The mother left her in our custody,” she states. “You should be thankful that we’re willing to overlook your mistake. With any luck, we’ll be able to groom this girl into a hero just as spectacular as you.”

��If you don’t release her to me, it’ll be you that’s made a mistake,” there was a promise of something terrifying in Hawks’ tone that seemed to finally shake the president’s resolve.

“You really think you’ll be able to be a decent parent?” she asks coldly.

“I won’t let her be robbed of a childhood like I was,” Hawks declares firmly. “If she wants to be a hero, she can make that decision when she’s old enough to do so.” Thankfully, the president decided not to argue any more. Hawks turns back to the window and allows himself to relax a bit. Looking over his daughter again, his heart filled with a love so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He made a vow to love and protect his little girl so that she had the safest and happiest life possible.

Fat Gum

There was nothing quite like the feeling of walking around the lively streets of Osaka at night. People of all walks of life tended to come out around this time, and the delicious smell of cooking food filled the air. Taishiro Toyomitsu, better known as Fat Gum, could think of no better city to do his hero patrols. The crime rate was a little higher than in other places, but it was worth it for him to have easy access to the yakitori, yakisoba, and okonomiyaki stands that kept his quirk plenty fueled up.

Tonight he was in high spirits as he walked down one of the more famous shopping streets, stuffing his face with incredible snacks, and having friendly encounters with both locals and tourists alike. A couple of young musicians were playing on one of the street corners, so he tossed a few coins into their cup. Everything seemed to be fine basically, other than a few people who’d stumbled out of bars and needed help getting to a taxi. It was one of his more tame patrols, but he wasn’t going to complain about that.

He noticed that he was being followed near the end of the night, when most of the shops and restaurants were starting to close up. The busy streets began to empty as people hurried to catch the last few trains, and only when there were just a handful of people left out sweeping the sidewalks did the figure emerge from the shadows. Fat Gum was surprised to find that his pursuer was a young boy around nine years old with strange, aquamarine colored hair.

“Hey there, kiddo!” he kept a huge grin on his face but still kept his guard up just in case. “Can I help you with anything?” The kid looked to be in pretty rough shape as he gazed up at the BMI hero who towered over him. Fat Gum didn’t like the poor condition of the boy’s clothes, or that he appeared extremely dirty. The most concerning thing of all was how emaciated the boy looked. He could practically see the bones in his arms, and his cheeks were sunken with hunger. He wondered when the poor thing had last eaten a proper meal.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the kid finally speaks up after a moment. Fat Gum finally noticed that the boy had started shaking like a leaf. He wasn’t sure if the boy was just cold, or if he was actually afraid. He watched as the kid reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tattered old photograph. “By any chance, do you know this woman?” The boy flinches away while holding out the paper for Fat Gum to see.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, buddy!” the large hero says while taking the photo as non-aggressively as possible. “Let’s just take a quick look at this and… oh.” He recognized the woman staring back at him from the picture. He hadn’t seen her in almost a decade. He’d lost contact with her once she’d broken his heart after a short romantic affair. “Uh,” Fat Gum felt a little awkward, “Is this your mom?” The boy nods his head while keeping his eyes closed. “Then,” Fat Gum chuckles nervously, “am I your dad?”

“Yeah,” the boy mumbles before letting a few tears slip out, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” the need to be a hero for this boy was stronger than his discomfort with the situation. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. How could I have not known about this until now?”

“Mom wouldn’t let me tell you,” his voice cracks with emotion. “She said you’d be mad.”

“Well, that’s just silly!” Fat Gum shakes his head in disbelief. “Where is your ma’ now?” The boy finally glances up and meets his eyes. They were the same shape and color as his own.

“She got arrested yesterday,” he admits, sounding embarrassed. “Another hero caught her pickpocketing. She sometimes asked me to help her, but I haven’t been feeling well lately. We don’t have a place to stay either, so we had to find a way to get food.”

Fat Gum hated the thought of that woman not only keeping the existence of his son a secret, but also forcing a young boy to break the law. Perhaps that was why the boy looked so scared. He probably thought he was going to get in trouble too. Fat Gum had other ideas though.

“I’m really sorry that happened to your mom,” he says sincerely, “but she will have to pay for the crimes she committed.”

“I know,” the boy looks back down at his feet.

“But there’s no reason you have to follow in her footsteps,” Fat Gum says cheerfully. “I’m more than willing to take you under my wing. That is, if you don’t mind.” The boy finally allows a tentative smile to grow on his face. He clearly liked the idea.

“Well then, first I think we should get you to a doctor,” Fat Gum reaches down and gently pats the boy’s head. This time, he doesn’t flinch away. “And after that, I’ll make sure you get a decent hot meal! No kid of mine is going to look like skin and bones.” The boy eagerly agrees and allows Fat Gum to scoop him up into his arms. He had a feeling it was going to be a dream come true to finally have the fun and affectionate father he’d always imagined.

Shigaraki

People were always going on and on about how hard public servants worked and how important their jobs were. Heroes, police officers, firefighters, health workers… sure, they all had hefty responsibilities, but nobody ever considered the absolute nightmare it was being the leader of the League of Villains. Shigaraki wanted to see someone else try to manage the group of ragtag, lawless, misfits that he’d been left in charge of. It’d be one thing if they were all there to support him and his diabolical plans, but unfortunately a good number of his followers were just hanging around in the hopes of an opportunity to continue the work of the Hero Killer, Stain.

Stain had always been a sore spot with Shigaraki, ever sense the man had shown up at his hideout just to criticize him for not having a clear goal. He’d never admit it out loud, but the jerk might have had a point. At first, he’d just wanted to kill All Might, but that was only because it was what his master, All For One, had wanted. After All For One had been arrested, Shigaraki was sort of left without a guiding hand or a clear path to follow. He still wanted to kill All Might. And he wanted that annoying Midoriya kid dead too. When he really thought about it, Shigaraki just kind of wanted everyone to be dead.

The door to the villain’s hideout clicked open suddenly, making everyone in the bar turn to see who’d arrived. It was just Dabi, trailing in the scent of burnt corpses. Shigaraki clenched his teeth and sighs in annoyance. That ugly fire user was supposed to be out recruiting people to the League, but all he ever did was incinerate any potential members he came across.

“I didn’t know we were running a daycare service now,” Dabi comments lazily while grabbing a stool at the bar and signaling Kurogiri for a drink.

“What are you talking about?” Shigaraki felt the prickling urge to scratch at the flaking skin on his neck, but managed to control himself. Dabi was always trying to get a rise out of him and the worst thing he could do was take the bait.

“Some crusty looking rugrat is hanging around outside,” Dabi shrugs. “You might want to do something about that.” Shigaraki wasn’t sure if the annoying man was messing with him or not, but he sent Twice to check it out just in case. The last thing they needed was a lost child attracting the attention of any heroes. A few minutes later, Twice returned with what looked like a four year old boy trying to claw his way out of his captor’s arms.

“Put me down!” The kid protests before opening his mouth and biting down on Twice’s fingers. The villain drops the kid who lands with a thud on the floor.

“There really was a kid out there!” Twice gestures to the boy dramatically, “He’s completely rabid though! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You picked the wrong place to run away to,” Shigaraki walks up to the boy feeling irritated. “You should’ve stayed with your mommy and daddy.” The boy glares up at him from the ground and Shigaraki gets a big shock. Aside from the hair color, it was like looking into a mirror. The boy had the same piercing red eyes as him. The skin around those familiar eyes was dry and irritated, just like his own too.

“You ARE my daddy!” The kid blurts out and the atmosphere in the bar gets extremely uncomfortable. Of course, the silence is broken by a snort from Dabi.

“Oh man,” he shakes his head. “I can’t believe someone actually had the stomach to sleep with you.”

“Shut up, Dabi!” Shigaraki tries to swallow down the panic and horror bubbling up inside him, but the persistent itch on his neck seemed to double in intensity over this unexpected news. He gives in, reaching up to scratch at the damaged pale skin below his ear. It had been All For One’s idea for him to have an ‘experience’ with a lady. He’d said it was an important part of becoming an adult, but now Shigaraki could only see it as a huge mistake. A voice drifted through his mind, telling him that it would only take five fingers to make this whole problem go away.

“Where’s your mommy?” Toga skips over happily, unable to resist inserting herself into the situation.

“I don’t know,” the boy was putting on a brave face, but it was clear that he was afraid. “We had to leave our house and sleep outside. Mommy said it was because my dad was a villain, but then she was gone when I woke up.”

The story struck a chord in Shigaraki. He’d been left abandoned without a home as well at a very young age. The last thing he wanted to do was sympathize with the brat though. What he wanted was for the kid to disappear. The idea of a guy like him being a parent was laughable. He was barely an adult himself, and he had enough on his plate right now. A small child was only going to be a burden. His fingers twitched, ready to activate his quick as he continues to look down at the helpless boy at his feet. The conflicting feelings inside him were making the itching flare up terribly. Every inch of skin on Shigaraki’s body felt like it was on fire now.

“You’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?” the boy suddenly slumps forward, the fight going out of him. “You hate me.”

A weird resolve washes over Shigaraki at those words. No. He wasn’t like everyone else. If there was one thing all the member of the League of Villains had in common, it was that they’d all been rejected by friends, family, and even heroes for traits they had little or no control over. This boy was just as much a victim of this crooked society as the rest of them.

“You’re forbidden from ever leaving this building,” Shigaraki states flatly. “And don’t expect anyone here to coddle you or clean up after you. The moment you become a nuisance you’re back out on the street.” The boy nods in understanding while finally pushing himself off the ground. Shigaraki wasn’t sure what he’d just signed up for. The only thing he knew for sure was that his job had just gotten a lot more complicated.

[artxyra]

The Secret Life of MDC | Part 3

Part 3 - Welcome to Gotham, now get out!

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Arriving in Gotham was just an absolutely massive mess, that quickly turned into a several page report for Marinette to send to the school board the moment she arrived in her temporary dorm at Gotham Academy.

Let recap back to the airport. When everyone got off the plane, Lila was quick to make up an excuse about Bruce Wayne sending her a private limo that she’ll be happy to bring the class along. Of course, Caline Bustier, absently believed the long-time liar telling her students to gather their belongings and for Lila to call the Waynes. It was as if she had completely forgotten the arrival procedures. Arriving in Gotham, proceed to find the bus driver, and meet up with the Gotham Academy Headmistress to retrieve the rest of the plans for the month. Marinette tried to tell Caline that what they were doing was against the procedure, something that she had to memorize for moments like this, only to be lectured about behavior the second she finished talking off to the side.

Then when they finally arrived at the school, Caline had the nerve to lecture her again about not informing her about the bus before being dragged off by the Gotham Academy headmistress, who clearly was not happy with the decisions made before they could even step foot onto the school grounds. Gotham is not a place to dilly dally unless you know the area or a native.

“Do you think, she’ll be fired after this?” Chloe asks while setting her things into the wardrobe as Marinette clicks the save button on her laptop.

“Maybe, no matter what happens, we’re here for a month regardless of the decisions the GA headmistress and Principal De La Fontaine decides in the coming days. All I know as the class president and temp. TA; my job is to help her overlook you guys.” Marinette sighs and closes the laptop's top before giving Chloe her full attention.

“I still can’t believe you graduated early. Though Adrien and I are grateful you managed to stay despite everything.” It was rare moments like these that made Marinette glad that she gave Chloe a second chance. Chloe had apologized one winter when she was freezing to death outside because her parent went on a tropical vacation on her request and decided to allow the staff to take a few days off. It was Sabine and Tom that took the former bully into their arms and made her feel loved, a love that she rarely receives from her parents. Since that day, Chloe takes pride in the honor of being Marinette’s sister just as Adrien did when they took him in also.

“I couldn’t leave you guys to perish in that class. Also, I just didn’t want to give Lie-la the satisfaction of winning.” Marinette says as her phones with the familiar sounds of “The Other Side” by Ruelle. Instantly, Marinette picks up the phone and smiles. “It’s Damian, he wants to go out tonight. Think I have time before—”

“Go, I’ll keep you from trouble, maybe even invite Adrien over if he isn’t doing the same with Jon.” Chloe pushes the noirette out of their room before closing the door behind the designer with a smirk on her lips.

As Marinette makes her way out of the dormitory, little did she know that Lila was just doing the same but for a different reason.

~*~

Damian Wayne @therealbloodheir I had a wonderful night with my beloved. I can’t wait for more nights like these. [Attached is an image of two hands intertwine with each other with the moon shining between them.]

Nette @GothamsFashionSense Replying to @therealbloodheir That sounds like a marriage proposal. Missing you too.

~*~

In the halls of Gotham Academy, conversations buzz around the single fact that Nette was back in Gotham for the first time in weeks. Groups of students gather around a single person, whose phone is out in the open, all gushing about theories on how the date went.

The same can be said for GA’s exchange students who crowd around Lila Rossi like she was the air.

“Gurl, spill, how was the date? You’re tending on twitter, again!” Alya squeals, gripping Lila’s arm.

“Oh you, it was truly romantic. Damiboo took me on this romantic dinner, but the first place we went to didn’t serve any vegetarian meals, and as you know I’m one but he’s not. We left and found another place that was just right.” Her high pitch voices drive a shiver down people spines, well anyone that is in clear hearing distance to the Italian teen's voice range.

“Do they truly believe that she’s Nette. Bitch please, we all know that Nette has dark hair from the back of the head photos on twitter.” A random student scoffs behind the trio.

The trio turns around looking at the person in a new light. The student had long braided blonde hair and wearing the GA uniform. “You’re not fooled? I was pretty sure that she would try and convert you the moment you step foot into the building.” It was Adrien that spoke first.

“I'm Allegra, besides me is Claude and Allen.” The student says shaking hands with Adrien before continuing with, “Anyone with brain cells can tell you that she is not Nette from @GothamsFashionSense.”

Allegra then takes the empty seat beside Marinette.

“Name’s Marinette, these dorks are Adrien and Chloe.” Marinette says, “About the brain cell thing, we’ve been saying that since she joined our class a few years back.”

“It ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, as to how they manage to hang on her every word. And one of them is a self-proclaim reporter. The bitch hasn’t reported anything remotely true since the liar had joined us and don't get me started on her early years.” Chloe places her two cents into the conversation.

This was the start of a blooming relationship.

Claude, Allegra, and Allen were quick to understand the environment that the Paris Trio was living in. An irresponsible, enabling teacher and a class full of idiots. With the Gotham Trio, the Paris Trio was able to understand how Gotham Academy works and learn the ins and outs of specific places. Despite the fact that Marinette vaguely knows just about much.

~*~

“So, how were your first three days at GA?” Dick Grayson asks as the Paris trio who are sitting on the couch inside the living room of Wayne Manor. "Is it about the same as it was when I went?"

“Dicky, I am this close to making heads roll.” Chloe’s fingers are teaching as a look of crazy twitches in her eyes.

“It wasn’t all that bad the first couple of days and then Lila tried to convince GA students that she was me by photoshopping our twitter photos. Other than that, I’m more worried about when Bustier announces that our class has been invited to the upcoming Wayne Gala. I’m already booked with mine and Chloe’s dresses along with Selina’s and Cass’s.” Marinette says, resting her head on Damian’s shoulder as their hands' interlock. Damian places a quick peck on her forehead.

The room was once again oddly silent before Adrien let out a loud giggle.

The family turns to the model who was staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. Adrien was no doubt in a group chat with Luka and Jon about upcoming meetings and plans.

“What?” Adrien asks, looking up to the group of extended family members staring at him. They all quickly look away, some whistling while others mess with the person they are next to. “Seriously guys, what?” The whining in Adrien’s voice just made it harder for them to pretend to do something as they hold in a laugh.

“Nothing,” Marinette snickers as Damian brings to play with her hair by braiding strands of it. She always liked it when Damian messed with her hair, he sometimes does something nice, surprising everyone with his styling skills.

“Hey, Pixie-Pop and Pixie-Pop’s friends. When did you guys get in?” It’s Jason, to which majority had forgotten about even though Tim was a close second as he is hovering over a half-full cup of coffee trying to stay awake but isn’t with them in reality. Maybe Marinette should make her special concoction that would knock anyone out for quite some time.

“Hey Mari, can you make the switch?” Dick whispers in the designer’s ear. Marinette huffs agreeing to the older sibling’s request. Damian nearly groans as his girlfriend gets off his lap and walks into the kitchen.

Marinette comes out nearly ten minutes later with a steaming coffee mug in hand. She walks over to Tim and pushes his cup out of his hand and replaces it with hers. Tim, absently, takes a sip. Within seconds he is knocked out, cold.

“I’ll never not be amazed at how fast your drink can knock Tim out,” Dick says as he picks up Tim and exits the room. Marinette shrugs and takes her seat next to Damian.

“When does Cass get back from her trip?” It was Chloe who decided to break the silence between them.

“Before the gala, that’s for sure,” Jason answers as he pulls out the controllers for the game console. He gives Marinette a knowing look, who smirks with mischief in her eyes. He should know better than to play against Marinette.

~*~

It was times like this that made Marinette wish that the school board had investigated Mlle. Bustier years ago, like for example when the liar first tried to get her expelled in college. Yeah, that was such a long time ago.

Today was supposed to be an easy-going day, but for some reason, Lila managed to convince the teachers, Mlle. Bustier specifically, to allow the class to visit a nearby street mall. Mlle. Bustier, of course, agrees despite the GA teachers telling her that it was a bad idea to let the student go out unsupervised in a place they still don’t know much about. Caline laughs it off stating that they’ll be fine, and it’ll be just like walking down the streets in Paris. That added another dash to her inability to be a proper teacher.

Which brings us to the street mall. Lila was going into stores left and right proclaiming to be Damian Wayne’s girlfriend or stating that she is the niece of some high profile celebrity in hopes of getting free or discounted items. That doesn’t dwell well seeing as Gothamites are not as gullible as Parisians.

The Paris Trio along with the GA Trio watch the mess that she was drumming up from afar. Chloe had invited Allegra to join them which then extended to Claude and Allan who wanted to go for the arcade.

Lila even had the nerve to ask Adrien to join her and Alya shopping trips with the underlying message of making him pay. Once being denied on numerous occasions, Alya managed to steal Nino’s wallet in hopes of paying for all their stuff. Yeah, that didn't help their relationship status.

“Alya I told you that money wasn’t for you,” Nino screams into his girlfriend’s face as she tries to come up with an excuse. He was infuriated.

“Nino, baby, if you love me you would have just given me the money. Lila really needed those items for her date with Damian.”

“I don’t care about Lila’s need; she is not my responsibility. In fact, neither are you, Alya. You just spent the money I had saved up for this trip.” Nino had wanted to go into a DJ shop that sold the equipment he wanted and started saving the moment the trip was announced the year before.

“Stop bitching, it was only a couple hundred dollars.”

Oohs and side-eyes make up the crowd they were drawing. It was a free drama tv for them.

“Ooh what do we have here, a lovers quarrel? Now would be the perfect time to spring my new trap.” Suddenly, it was like time freezes.

~*~

Chloe B. @QueenBeeOfParis The best thing about my idiotic classmates is television drama. #savemefromthem

Tina @thepinkmistress I was finding my own business when this shit happens. [Attach is a video clip of a couple arguing and goons dress in green takes over the streets]

Tim Drake’s Bish @rachelcovefe The nerve of this group. Just finished my shift only to be told by some foreigner that she was @GothamsFashionSense like bish please I know you ain't her. #anotherdayingotham

Kimmy @kimmyontheblock Replying to@rachelcovefe OMG same but she then added in that she was Jagged Stone's niece. Um excuse you but we all know that it's @MDCfashion

Mari Needs Coffee @MarinetteMemes So the first relaxing day in Gotham ruined by the Riddler and Lie-la’s fanatics. Yup, so good to be back. #memescomingsoon #goodgrief #imabouttoheadout

Part 4 >>

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed. 

Note: The SPECIFIC Tag list is officially closed. If you wanted to follow the story please mark the tag fic:The Secret Life of MDC. 

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha | @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood | @marinettepotterandplagg | @loveswifi | @ladybug-182 | @novaloptr | @elijahcrevan | @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @rebecarojas07 | @nanakeid | @mystery-5-5 | @sparkle9510 | @aestheticnpoetic | @toodaloo-kangaroo | @more-or-less-human-i-guess | @crazylittlemunchkin | @softlysobbingpostendgame | @purplesundaze | @fantasyloversblog | @susiej1118 | @chocolateherringtacofan | @tog84 | @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss |

Unspecific Tag List: @g-arya | @jardimazul | @jeminiikrystal | @zalladane | @bluerosette23 | @dast218 | @midnighttreesgaming | @myazael | @pepelachanel | @storyecho

Specific Tag List:  @virgil-is-a-cutie | @thejustmesimplyme | @mewwitch | @tamoni112 | @goggles-mcgee | @bb-basbusa | @mochinek0 | @schrodingers25 | @jessigurl-design | @constancetruggle | @shamefullove | @mindfulmagics | @scribblinggraveyard | @clumsy-owl-4178 | @captainmac6 | @vivilakitty | @sonif50  | @emjrabbitwolf | @northernbluetongue | @crazylittlemunchkin | @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl | | @zebrabaker  | @readinganawfullot | @thebananathatwrites | @urbanpineapplefarmer | @hypnosharkrebeldreamer | @zerotosiki | @poshplumcot | @luciferge | @mariae2900 | @minightrose | @theatreandcomicfreak | @thequestionablyhuman | @thepeacetea | @never-neverland | @sassydepression | @multishipper1needshalp | @actual-disaster-human | @queencommonsense | @novicevoice | @vgirl-10123 | @lunar-wolf-warrior | @dahjokester | @ur-average-reader |  @gimme-more-caffeine | @reaperfeels | @interobanginyourmom | @elspethshadow | @my-name-is-michell | @redscarlet95 | @razzledazzle247 | @casual-darkness | @romanoff-queen | @7-sage-7 | @lily-codie19 | @two-faced-biatch | @spicybelladonna |  @heaven428 | @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry | @slytherinsheashire | @zazzlejazzle | @moonlitarchangels | @naclychilli | @dur55 | @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff | @scrumptiouslyelegantchaosqueen | @ravennightingaleandavatempus | @eliza-bich | @saltycolordonkeyclod | @thestressmademedoit | @queen-in-a-flower-crown | @elmokingkong | @wolf-for-life | @hoodiewitaboggie| @tellmeicantdothis | @frieddonutsweets | @k-poplunardreams | @moonlightstar64 | @sam-spectra | @bigpicklebananatree | @how-to-fuction-properly | @spookiist | @mewwitch | @fidget-eep | @loysydark | @books-and-left-behind-journals | @paradoxal-occurance |

[lu-undy]

New Sniper/Spy long story!

Aaaand I am back with a new Sniper/Spy story!

It’s called “Un-alone” and can be found here!

Hope you enjoy! :D

"I need a minute, if that is possible." The French accent would have sounded pleasant and exotic if not for the circumstances.

"Of course. If you need a drink, help yourself. I will be back to give you more details."

The man in the suit nodded and the notary left the room. He waited for the door to click shut before sighing and loosening his tie. He looked around him, the wooden and serious walls seemed to close on him, as the walls of his skull pressed painfully on his brain. He lowered his head and held his hair in his hands.

After a sigh, he slid on the sofa to the table at the corner of the room. He pushed the flower vase aside and looked at the tray with bottles and glasses. Water? Wine? Non, he needed something stronger. That whiskey would do. The glass cap yielded with a pop and he poured some in the glass. He didn't add any of the ice cubes. Non, he felt cold enough. 

The bitter whiskey burnt the back of his throat down to his knotted stomach. The Frenchman held his head low. What should he do? Cry? Punch? Destroy? 

Not yet. The notary gave a short knock before entering the room again. His eyebrows jumped when he realised that he had left a proper and prim man, to come back to what he could tell was a man barely holding himself back, to protect his dignity. He was used to being the bearer of bad news, he was used to seeing people cry, shout, get in all sorts of states. But experience also taught him that those who remain like marble are the most dangerous to themselves.

"You mentioned details?" The French accent asked.

The notary nodded, a distraught expression on his face, before he sat back at his desk. 

"She left a letter for you." He put his glasses on. "I understand you were married?" 

The man sitting on the sofa took another quick yet generous swig of his whiskey, the burning liquid making him almost gag.

“Oui.” He simply answered after taking a deep breath to soothe himself, his fingers only ending up clenching harder on the glass he was holding. 

“But you were not living together, if what I heard is correct.”

The man on the sofa nodded, his head still lowered, his grey front tuft of hair waved in the air. 

“I also understand that only her family was at her side in the end.” The notary said and the poor man frowned. “They were surprised to learn that all along she was actually married. They did not know of this union.”

“Non, they did not.”

The notary knew he was dealing with no ordinary man but this…? This added up to the exception.

“The ceremony will take place tomorrow. Her family will be there.”

The Frenchman nodded and stored this somewhere in his mind before asking what he had been burning to.

“May I see the letter?” A shaking voice asked before the man lit up a cigarette, his gaze still evading the notary’s. 

“Of course. Here is a copy.”

“Do you have the original?”

“Yes but I cannot let you see it, it is-”

The notary’s voice stopped when the man sitting on the sofa finally raised his eyes to him. His face was dark, furious, boiling. His light blue eyes sliced the shadow cast by his front tuft, a menacing curtain falling on his forehead, and the tip of his cigarette shone in a more fierce shade of orange.

He handed him the original.

Instantly the man took it to his nose and smelt it. Tears came to his eyes that he prudely closed for a moment. Rose water and a hint of jasmine. Oui, that was her. Thank God the perfume hadn’t faded yet! He smiled, but his body and his face were screaming bittersweetness, nostalgia and deeper down, something he hated to show, like a weakness. 

Love.

He loved her with all the fibres of his body. There wasn’t a sight more pleasant than her smile, a song more melodious than her voice, a taste more forbidden than her lips’.

He raised a shaking gloved hand to his forehead and opened his eyes to read the will. The handwriting was unmistakingly hers. He recognised it. It was a bit more shaky than when he last saw it, but it was hers.

“My sweetheart Lulu,”

The man clenched his jaw further, feeling the strain on his cheeks and grinding his teeth to hold back what he would let out later, in his own private time.

“I am sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t know how to, I didn’t know where you were, how you were. But I knew you never forgot about me. As long as I received the flowers, the gifts for Jay, the chocolates and sometimes, the cassettes, I knew you were alive and well.

The last letter I received from you dates back to my birthday and I kept it under my pillow until the very end. If you are reading this, my family then knows about you, they must be wondering about a million things. But I didn’t answer anything. I couldn't tell them that Jeremy’s father is a French spy, that we got married in secret more than twenty years ago, that when Jeremy came into our lives, we decided to live separately with as little contact as possible to protect the boy, now a man. I couldn’t tell my family that I miss you everyday, yet I love you more by the day. 

My Lulu, I am not leaving you at all. I might even be closer to you now than before, who knows? Maybe the warmth you feel in your cheeks now is my touch? Maybe the tears you are hiding right now, I will dry, when you finally let them go.

My love, everything I have, I have left it to our son. It isn’t much and I am afraid it is more debt than help…

I ask of you two things, please, my sweetest of hearts. The first is to help Jeremy. Help him with a job, please. He still doesn’t know you, I never told him who you were. I think it is your call to make. If you ever decide to know him, I know you will see how much he got from you... 

The second is please, never stop singing. Promise me to sing more, I want to hear you now, more than ever.

Je t’aime and goodbye,

Your little flower, Marie.”

The Frenchman’s heart was in his throat. He was on the sofa, in this wooden room where the sun didn’t shine, where the flowers in the vase next to him where fake, where he wished he could bite in his glass of whiskey and chew on the glass shards, crush them and let them slice through him, let the pain be physical, anywhere on his body, his face, anything but this. It was harder to bear with each second.

He didn’t realise it but his hands were trembling on the letter. He stared at it a bit more and cleanly folded it before putting it in his inner pocket. 

“Sir, I-”

Again, the sheen of the light blue eyes left very little room for discussion.

“I am sorry but I must ask you to give me back the original, it is an official document for this procedure and I can hardly-argh!”

In the blink of an eye, the Frenchman had leapt in the air from the sofa to the desk, overlooking it. His face was less than an inch away from the notary’s astonished one. 

“I will keep her letter.” The French accent threateningly said, his teeth clenched like a furious panther’s.

“B-But Sir-argh?!”

Something cold was against the notary’s throat. Something cold and pointy. It was pressing against his fragile column of air.

“A-Alright, y-you can keep it…”

The Frenchman backed off from the desk and the notary watched him flick some sort of blade between his fingers before he dropped it in one of his pockets. His jaw dropped. He had just been threatened with a knife.

“I was not asking.”

“W-well…” The notary pulled on his collar to have a bit more air come to his lungs. He wiped the sweat off his brow. “W-why threaten me then?” 

The Frenchman took his jacket again and put it on before heading to the door. He left without adding a word. 

It was still the afternoon of that late September day and in Boston, the weather started to get colder but was still very bearable. 

Lucien took a deep breath and sighed when he was finally out of the notary’s practice and into the street. The light breeze did not help get more oxygen to his lungs. Or maybe it did, but no amount of air could help. He slipped back into the taxi and the driver took him back to his hotel. 

As soon as he set foot in the five-star establishment, a young man in a red and golden uniform came to him. 

“Sir, there has been a phone call for you, they said it was urgent and you should call back, here is the number.” He was holding a tray on which was a card. Lucien took it and read the number that he recognised only too well. He nodded and headed to the elevator. 

As it took off and hovered higher and higher, Lucien could see more and more of the city underneath him through the windows. He saw it all. The restaurant they had met in, while undercover as a singer, the park he had taken her to, the movie theatre he had invited her to, where they had shared their first kiss, the streets of her city, the roads, streets, avenues that were once so familiar. They now looked like grey, narrow valleys dug in the concrete of buildings, slithering like the bed of dead rivers. 

Ding ding.

The jingle of the bell in the elevator broke his train of thought. 

“Here we are, Sir.”

Lucien turned away from the windows to face the doors that slid open. He entered the carpeted corridor and soon found his door. The keys jangled as they exited his pocket and the next thing he knew, he was inside. 

He had rented an en-suite room with a double bed - habits die hard - and went straight to the minibar to help himself to some more strong alcohol. He didn't mind the taste and just wanted the burn and bitterness; anything really to move his pain from his heart to his body.

He grabbed a bottle of God knows what and poured some before drinking, chugging the entire glass down his throat in one go, before the glass hit the counter again loudly. He hissed under the unpleasant feeling of the alcohol scorching as it glided through his oesophagus and stomach.

Lucien removed his jacket and threw it on the coathanger before he undid his tie. He only fished out the letter and slipped it in his trousers' pocket.

“Mon Dieu…”

He grabbed the bottle and the glass, and headed to the sofa. On his way, he kicked his shoes off and frowned. He hated seeing people do that - remove their shoes with their feet, damaging the leather. But he couldn't be asked to do it properly with his hands. For all he knew, those shoes could go to hell.

He flopped down on the sofa and poured himself some more whiskey. The glass and the bottle shone under the flames of the fireplace opposite him. It caught his eye for an instant and blinded him. He grumbled and looked away, to his left and - oh, the bedroom door. 

His eyes hung there for a while, the bottle and glass hanging in mid-air. 

From where he was sitting, he could only see the bed, large and empty, cold even, he could feel it. 

He would have killed for one more night with her. He would have… 

Lucien sighed and drank some more before lighting another cigarette and sucking his anger away at it. 

His eyes came back in front of him, and he saw the letter. His mind rolled back more than two decades ago. Meeting Marie, falling in love with her, falling in love for the first time. 

But his job as a spy was way too dangerous for her, for him, and soon, for the little boy that Lucien was delighted to hold in his arms for the first time. And it was soon decided. A wedding, in secret, just him, her and two witnesses, people who happened to be in the church praying that day. They didn't even know them. They got married and Lucien stayed long enough for baby Jérémy to have a vague souvenir of his father. 

He loved them. Lucien loved Marie and Jérémy. He loved them so much that he left them, and it broke his heart. Everyday he wished he could hold them in his heart. But he was too good at his job and wanted to keep it. It paid him a fortune and he could send some money to help. 

Another sigh that failed to take his frustration and his guilt out of him. 

Lucien stood up and walked to the window that he opened wide. He looked at the tiny city, busy underneath him. To all these people, today was a normal day. Some of them might even be happy… 

But for him, today felt awful. 

His eyes swept across the streets as he walked back in time to where he had met her. Mary, his Marie. It had been a busy night in the restaurant he was working at. He was undercover, a singer, trying to get closer to a frequent client. He had worked hard for months to approach his target. But that night wasn’t the one he managed to sit and dine with that shady nobody. Instead, an angel crossed his path. 

Marie.

She wasn’t shy and he liked her boldness. He thought it was very American of her to be this way, to think that she could get whatever she wanted, if only she worked hard enough for it. Mon Dieu… She had come to his changing room, backstage, with her blue dress and matching headband, her lips were glossy red and her eyelashes, more beautiful than a butterfly’s wings in summer, fluttering to half hide the deep blue irises that he saw too vividly now.

She had knocked at his door and the moment he had opened it, the sight of her seized him like a hand to the throat. She raised her eyes to him and gave him a smile that still burnt his insides. Without hesitation, she started talking as if they had known each other for a long time, asking him a million questions.

Of course, back in those days, Lucien was quite valued on the market of love. Tall and slim, his hair still all black and combed back, light blue, almost grey eyes that looked in the deepest corners of one’s mind, impeccable manners, a smirk that weakened the knees of any woman in sight and a French accent that made them fall in his arms effortlessly…

He remembered that she kept coming to listen to him night after night. They would enjoy something to eat together. She had tried to invite him but he always insisted. 

Une aussi jolie fleur que toi ne paie pas.

Such a beautiful flower as you are does not pay.

It had started as a distraction, a pleasant surprise in his life. But soon, Lucien found himself waiting for those knocks at his door, in the changing room backstage. He realised that on the few nights she wouldn’t come, he would feel uncomfortable. Something was odd, something wasn’t right, like a pebble in his shoe, something he could live with but… 

And looking inside him he understood that in fact, he was missing her. Him, the man with more love conquests than there were stars in the night sky. He had fallen. In love oui, but he had fallen. Fallen under those eyes, fallen on his knees for her, always looking for her when he sang now. His eyes would frantically scan his audience, the crowd who came to applaud him, he did not hear them! Of course not! Oh! There she was! Ah, Marie…

His eyes would stop on her and from the moment he found her, his secret flower, he would sing and dance for her. Oui, he would even stand up from his piano and dance, make a fool of himself in front of a full room of guests. He would smile only after he would see her grin and wished oh so dearly the whole room would fall silent to hear only her beautiful laughter...

Oh he remembered how they stayed so late in the restaurant that countless times, they had to be pushed out of it. It had happened a few times before Lucien one night asked her to stay.

“Marie?”

“Yeah?” She raised her round eyes to him.

“Stay, please. Don’t walk back home so soon.”

“It… It’s very late, Lucien.” She chuckled and wrapped her arms around herself tighter against the cold.

Oui, with Marie, he had given her his real name straight ahead. Something in his guts had told him that it was safe to do so. He knew it was wrong and dangerous, foolish even! But non, with Marie, it felt wrong to lie.

“Please, ma petite fleur.”

[my little flower]

She had blushed. He could barely see it in the darkness of the night, but the street light was enough and he did see it!

“Fine,” She yielded and Lucien never knew, but of course she wanted to stay. “What is it?” She asked.

“Let us wait for a few minutes. Are you cold?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” Lucien removed his coat and wrapped her in it.

“Aren’t you cold?” She asked and he smiled. 

“Jamais quand tu es près de moi.”

[Never when you are near me.]

“You know I don’t get French, right?”

“Oui, I do.”

“Then say it in English.”

“Non.” He chuckled and blushed, turning slightly away to hide himself.

“Come on…! It’s unfair!” She pulled him back from the panes of his jacket.

“I cannot.” He confessed, still looking away from her.

“Why not? I’m sure you know the words and all. Your English is perfect, c’mon!”

“Non, Marie, please, don’t make me say it…” He looked down and his front tuft of hair, the same one that is grey now, it fell on his forehead. 

“Lucien…”

The Frenchman closed his eyes when he felt her cold hand on his cheek. He raised his eyes to her.

“Please…?”

And for the first time in his life he understood what it felt like to be the one who is in love, to be the one who feels ill when the other one isn’t here, and to feel blessed when they were together.

“My little flower, I’m never cold when you are near me.” He yielded eventually and to his greatest delight, her grin widened before she hugged him, like that, unexpectedly. She had just leapt to him and held on to the panes of his jacket dearly, with her head and her black hair right below his chin. He wrapped his arms around her and kept her close. He was freezing but he didn’t feel it. All he knew was that he held in his arms the first and only person he ever loved.

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 1)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak

Word Count: 1562

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I wanted a room with two queens and an east facing window!” the woman with short, curled hair informed for the tenth time, her face already beet red as she yelled at you.

“Ma’am, I am sorry. I see we booked you with two queens and you’ll be on our seventh floor, with a south facing window,” you started to explain calmly.

“Does south sound like east to you? Jesus Christ, where do they hire you lazy brats?” she asked. 

Your poker face didn’t waiver though. You didn’t close your eyes, or take a deep breath, or shake your head slightly. You continued to smile and apologize. 

“You’re absolutely right, ma’am. But with the awards in the city and the influx of visitors for the winter--”

“I don’t care if all of Europe is here, I booked this trip over three months ago! My room should be available to me now!” she shouted, causing other patrons in the nearly full lobby to stare at the two of you. 

That was the good and bad thing about being a hotel right outside the city center, just on the outskirts. You didn’t get entirely booked a lot, but on rare occasions you did, it meant something.

You had been asked to step in for your coworker Danielle, when the woman found out she wasn’t on an east facing window. You’d been going back and forth with her for over twenty minutes now, her screaming in your face. This wasn’t super atypical as a hotel manager. Angry patrons of the hotel, confused guests, exhausted tourists, frustrated honeymooners...It was your job to ensure every stay here was a pleasant one, and you did want that. Why wouldn't you? But on some days, people like Mrs. Taucht here really wore on your nerves. Why did people have to be so cruel and mean when all you were doing was trying to provide them with excellent service? 

Smiling your best customer smile, you offered sweetly, “I am terribly sorry. I can refund you some of your money and perhaps you could take the south facing room, and as soon as an east facing room is available I’ll inform you.”

“Some?! Some of my money?” she shrieked, shaking her head. “I want all of my money back and free room service! This is absolutely ridiculous.” She turned to look to another guest waiting to check in. “Do you believe this?” she asked him, and you’d been so preoccupied focusing on her, you hadn’t noticed that the lobby was so getting backed up. You quickly turned to Danielle. 

“Open up check in five, and start taking everyone from this line immediately. Check everyone in as fast as you can,” you quietly spoke to her as Mrs. Taucht ranted to the man in the line behind her. 

Danielle nodded and waved everyone over from your line, telling them that she could help them at the end of the counter, while Todd, Eric, and Trish helped as quickly as they could on their lanes. 

“Actually, I can,” the man with golden hair responded politely. “I’ve been to this city many times and you wouldn’t believe how crowded it can get and how fast,” he informed.

“But I made these reservation months ago,” she reiterated.

“Well, with all respect, ma’am, you do have a room,” the guest retorted. “It’s just not the one you wanted. If I were you, I would ask for a full refund of your room, take that, and go the room they have booked for you. I would prefer any room, to standing here in the lobby, shouting at the manager…But that’s just me.”

Mrs. Taucht stared at the man, then turned back to you slowly. “What he said,” she sighed. “Can you give me the full refund and forget the room?”

“Absolutely, ma’am. It was our mistake, and I do apologize. I will throw in free breakfast every day for your stay, for your patience and understanding. Is that alright?”

She nodded her head side to side. “I would say that’s fair. Thank you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I will get to work on this refund for you, and it’ll be settled when you leave, okay?” you sweetly said.

“Alright.”

At that, she took her things and left, heading for the elevators to the rooms. You wanted to take a deep breath, but refrained, trying to keep composure for the nice guest that was next. 

“Just a moment, sir, let me enter some notes for her account,” you said politely before clacking in all the notes for you to finish later tonight. “I deeply apologize for that. I know you’ve been waiting and now you’re about to wait more.” You let a small laugh out, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I’m in no rush, besides, you’ve got your hands full,” he said with a sideways grin. He was rather handsome, now that he was closer. Warm, brown eyes, dark blonde hair, a reserved smile...But something about him seemed familiar. He had said he stayed in the city a lot. Maybe he’d checked in once before. But...his face didn’t look like one you’d forget. 

“You noticed that, hmm?” you asked with a bigger laugh. 

“Hard to miss,” he remarked.

“Too true. Thank you, for putting in a good word for me, there, by the way,” you said. This random man had no  reason to stick up for you or make your job or day easier. 

“Oh it was nothing. I was just trying to get her to move so I could get checked in,” he said evenly.

The humor whisked away from you as you nodded, realizing he wasn’t really helping you.

“Right,” you concurred, as you finished up the notes, your eyes shooting down to the computer screen. 

He leaned forward and smiled at you. “I’m joking. I was happy to help.”

Your eyes flitted back up to him as a giant grin spread across your face. This was new for you, unusual. People didn’t really go out of their way to help you. You were a bit of a wallflower all your life. Not an outcast, but not the brightest star. You were the girl that no one picked out of a crowd. You were the girl that was overlooked, rather than looked over. It wasn’t so much your looks, you’d always felt you looked average. But that was the problem: you were average. Average looks, average grades, average car, average education. Nothing about you was stellar.

Maybe that’s why Jason had left. Your boyfriend of two years had decided to dump you five days ago, just after the new year. What a way to kick it off…

“Well thank you, again. What name is your reservation under?” you asked as you queued to the page to look up check ins.

“Hayden...Christensen,” he warmly informed, seeming to hesitate though.

You smiled and nodded. “Ah. Found you. Two queens, sixth floor, room 602. Is that alright?”

“As long as it has a bed and a TV, I could care less,” he said with a shrug and a smile. 

“Simple man?” you lightly inquired as you got out his room keys and began to scan the code to them.

“Relatively,” he replied with another shrug. “You? Simple woman?” he asked. 

“In some ways, yeah, I’d like to think so,” you said, contemplating. 

“And in others?” he inquires.

“Well...none of us are simple, are we?” you questioned, a bit of ominimity in your voice. 

He nodded slightly. “I suppose that’s true.” 

You stared at him a moment longer, not exactly realizing you were staring until it became awkward and you realized you needed to hand him the room keys and information. 

“Ah! Here are your keys, here is a brochure to the spa, restaurants, and room service. Here is the number to the concierge, the manager--me, and the hotel operator,” you said, pointing at everything with a pen.

“Thank you very much,” he said, taking his cards and the pamphlet. 

“Any time, sir. I’m Y/N if you need anything, or if you need a manager, feel free to give me a call at any time,” you said warmly. Typically, you didn’t lay on that extra charm unless a customer was overtly rude or incredibly nice, and in this case he was incredibly nice, very handsome, and you still had this gnawing feeling that you’d seen him somewhere before. Therefore, if he was a returning patron to the hotel, you wanted to make him feel extra special.

“Will do. Thanks,” he said as he grabbed his bags, waved to you, and took off toward the elevators.

Once he was out of sight, you dealt with the new family coming up to check in and your day continued as usual. The rest of the shift, you were racking your brain trying to remember where you’d seen him from. You couldn’t place it at all, and that bothered you because typically you didn’t forget a face. After awhile though, you shrugged it off, figuring it would come to you later.

In your down time, after verifying the room service orders were fulfilled, requests were taken care of, and the kitchen staff was on schedule, you sat down and began playing around with some music, scribbling down some lyrics in your ratty notebook that you carried with you everywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag: 

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo 

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81​

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23 

@alyssaj23

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

@marvelmayo

@lyniboy

@paintballkid711

@pandacookieowo

History Repeats/Hayden

@haydens-moles

[cousinwingding97]

Silver Memories

Chapter Two: The Chase

Words: over 5k

No warnings. I swear there will be more Mando and the reader. Just wait! Next chapter for sure. I cut this one off at a cliffhanger, but it was getting to be sooo long. Also, very hard to write an amnesiac character so hopefully it’s working. Enjoy!

Sleep must have overtaken you because you found yourself jostled awake by a woman shaking your shoulder. “Excuse me, miss. Stowaways aren’t allowed free travel. Come on, wake up.”

You groaned with the sudden waking and then jumped when you realized you had been caught. The woman who had found you didn’t look angry, just frustrated more than anything. Her dark, curly hair was pulled up and she had a bit of grease on her coveralls.

“Don’t groan at me. You haven’t even started working. I have, and I could use an extra set of hands with my workload. Now, come on,” she holds her hand out to me, “let’s go and get started.”

She doesn’t seem mean. Just rushed. You hesitantly grab her hand as she pulls you up. You don’t have a chance to ask questions or explain. The woman starts walking towards where you assume is her workstation. She more than makes up for your lack of words.

“Next time, don’t hide in the cargo area after moving a crate. Especially if it is one of the only crates left. Most people pay attention. Try the engine room next time. Unless it’s a military ship, most people aren’t around their engines unless something’s wrong. I don’t know if you’re hiding out here or just trying to catch a ride. Pollis Massa is typically a safe haven, so I don’t know why you decided to leave. Why did you? What’s your name?”

You were trying to keep track of all she had said. There was a lot to process and download into your brain. The question about your name didn’t help. You should’ve known the answer to that question at least.

“I... uh don’t know. I woke up there and there were people I didn’t recognize that seemed violent, so I left. I don’t know anything past the fact that I just want to be somewhere else.”

“A woman who wants to make her own way and isn’t afraid of how she gets there. I like it. My name’s Marri. I’m the chief mechanic on the Serpent. You know anything about mechanics?”

“Uh, no.” This woman surprised you. You were glad she wasn’t interrogating you. She seemed more about getting business done rather than getting you in trouble. You couldn’t even answer any of her questions anyway.

Marri just grunts, “Eh, you can hold the tools. Can you do what you’re told?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“Good. Let’s get to it.”

“But, what about the stowaway business?” You asked hesitantly. All of this seemed too good to be true. How were you not going to get in trouble?

“Listen, honey, we have work to do on this ship. Lots of it. The captain ain’t too much of a stickler. She just wants to get the job done and done well. If you can help and work your way through this trip to Utapau then you aren’t just a freeloader.” This woman surprised you. You were glad she wasn’t interrogating you. She seemed more about getting business done rather than getting you in trouble, but you were still surprised she would just let it go that easily, especially to a stowaway.

While you tried to help Marri, you didn’t feel like you were contributing much, but Marri didn’t say otherwise. You got the sense that she was too into her own work and would only talk if there wasn’t anything else to do. You didn’t mind. Your mind was loud, but the work was constant enough to keep you focused on something else besides all the unanswered questions.

When Marri decided things were done, she took you up to the main area that looked like it was for the crew to relax. Some of the crew were already in there and you grew nervous. Marri may not care and supposedly not the captain, but what about the others?

“Everyone, this is Stowaway. Stowaway, meet everyone,” Marri announced.

You stood there unwillingly in a spotlight while eyes stared at you. None stayed on you for too long. Some just halfheartedly grunted a response and others straight up said nothing. Okay, I don’t know if I should be offended or relieved.

Marri didn’t seem surprised by the response either. “You wouldn’t be the first. Like I said, Polis Massa is sort of a sanctuary and people look for passage to a new life from there more often than not. We’ve learned to deal with it and consider it a job hazard.”

“Oh.” That’s what you were wanting to do, right? Find a new one or your old one? “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m looking for besides safety.”

Marri gave you a tight smile and went to the line for food. You followed, not wanting to be too far away from her. She may be right with the others not caring about you being a stowaway, but you didn’t want to push your luck either. Dinner was spent in silence as you thought over what Marri had asked you about what you wanted from this newfound chance of a new beginning.

You didn’t know how long you had been on the ship exactly when you woke to the sound of Marri waking you for the second time. The two of you had went to her barracks and she had given you extra blankets to sleep on the floor of the ship. It wasn’t completely uncomfortable and you had fallen sound asleep not long after you laid your head down. Now, she was urgently waking you.

“The captain wants to speak to you about an important matter.”

Trepidation filled your veins at her words. Maybe the captain wasn’t as easygoing as you had been led to believe. Maybe someone had complained about you.

You wanted to stay hidden in the barracks, but you knew that wouldn’t be an option. There were too many on the ship and you were just one person. You hated feeling helpless, but you knew you had to follow. Maybe I can explain the situation and talk my way out of being thrown into the vacuum of space.

The longer you walked, the harder your heart pounded against your ribcage. Marri looked over at you and tried to smile encouragingly. The act was appreciated, yet your heart continued its pounding. What are they going to do to me?

Automatic doors parted with a hiss and revealed the bridge. A half circle of a viewport showing a blue tunnel of with lights blazing past in flashes. It looked like you were traveling lightspeed, the word and concept coming into your mind as soon as you saw it.

The crew was stationed at various terminals around the bridge and on a lower level. One woman was standing above it all and overlooking the bridge. She had buzzed hair and a severe look rounded on you as you came into view. Marri saluted her and the captain returned the gesture. Marri turned to you, “This is Captain Roxy.”

You tried to smile and begin explain, but the captain cut you off, “Marri told me of you. Believe me girl, I have no problem with you on the Serpent. Especially since you are willing to work. Unfortunately, something has come up that I can’t ignore.” You didn’t know what she was talking about and your eyebrow raised in confusion. The captain read the expression on your face and offered up, “Let me just show you.”

She turned to one of the many terminals and the man sitting in front of the flashing buttons let his hands fly across the individual pieces in what looked like a rehearsed dance.

In front of the captain was what looked like an ordinary table, but once the man’s hands stilled, the table lit up with a blue see-through image. Your heart sank at the image. It was the man that Cara had been talking to, Mando. His helmet seemed to stare through you. The whole bridge was silent with what you assumed was the same fear you felt. You knew you weren’t the only one who had reason to be afraid. The image, or hologram your inner voice supplied, was image was terrifying just by itself.

The filtered voice began with something you could only described as restrained violence, “I believe you all have someone of importance to me. She is under my protection and care. I have tracked her to your ship and I will be tracking you to your destination once you land, rest assured of that. If she is not there, safe and unharmed, everyone on the Serpent is dead. Don’t think you can hide and don’t try running. You know what I am. It will make it worse for you once I find you.” The hologram cuts out and you feel a bead of sweat travel down your back. You feel all eyes on you, but you can’t tear your eyes from where the helmet had just been. The black visor was burned into your eyes.

Captain Roxy finally speaks up, “This transmission just came in not too long ago. We have already responded to it with the promise of your safe return. If I had known you were a part of the Mandolorian’s clan, I would have turned around as soon as Marri found you. I cannot risk the life of my crew for a fugitive from a bounty hunter or whatever you are.”

You finally turned to face her. You were wanted by a bounty hunter? That must have been why they wanted you. You were worth money and the rest of the group had wanted to receive whatever reward someone had placed for you. The word “Mandolorian” didn’t ring any bells either, but you assumed that was what Mando was short for. You doubted it was because you were a part of his clan, but more of a wanted bounty. For what, you had no idea.

The implications of what you had done fully hit you like a starship to the gut. I ran. I ran from some dangerous people and worse, they can find me easily. They aren’t going to take too kindly to their payday running away. What is going to happen to me when they find me? Will he just kill me to make it easier to bring in?

Before you could plead your case, the captain spoke, “My mind is decided. We will wait at Utapau for the Mandolorian to pick you up in order to make sure he sees we kept you safe.” Her voice softened as she spoke the next words, “For the sake of my crew, please let him know that we did not know we had you on board.” She turns away from you and Marri is pulling you along away from the bridge.

Finally, your words come back to you. “Marri, please. I can’t go back to them. I don’t even know what I have done to have a bounty. I don’t want anyone hurt, but I can’t stay here. I don’t even know who I am, let alone what I’ve done. This has to be a mistake!”

Marri doesn’t look at you. There is a guilty look in her eyes and you can tell your words are getting to her. “Please, help me. Don’t let him take me.”

“Look, I understand. You seem like a nice girl. I don’t want to do it either and honestly; I don’t think the captain even wants to give you up. Not many people like dealing with bounty hunters. That kind has a reputation. But Mandolorians are a proud and violent race. They don’t just give up. They keep their word too. He meant what he said about our crew.” She finally turns to look at you and grabs your shoulders for emphasis. There are tears in her eyes, “You are not the only one who is scared. We all are. He might kill us just to send a message to others. I’m sorry, truly. You don’t even know who you are, but just think for a moment, maybe you were someone terrible.” The last words are spoken more like a question. She doesn’t believe them either.

Your heart clenches at the possibility that she might be right; however, that doesn’t mean you can just give up. You don’t feel like you are a bad person. Despite the will to live, you don’t wish anything bad upon these people just because of your choices.

“Is there anything I can do? Do I have a chance?” You’re begging for any sort of hope or idea and you don’t care if you sound pathetic.

Marri looks at you for a long time. Her dark skin reflects the tears and you can’t help feeling bad for even asking it of her. She’s terrified.

“I don’t know, honestly. Unless you happen to know how to fight, I don’t know if there is anything any of us can do. They are hunters. They get what they are after.”

She’s given up. She doesn’t have any ideas. Why would she help me though? She barely knows me and she’s known her crew for longer.

You will have to come up with your own plan. She leads you back to her barracks, but neither of you can sleep. You are too anxious to even try to close your eyes.

All too soon, you feel the ship starting to land. Your breath hitches and you know there’s no time left.

Marri gently leads you to the ramp. You are met with what you take to be Utapau. The hanger you are in is open aired. There’s a cliff to your right showing you how trapped you are. Your eyes lead up to the walls of what appears to be a giant hole or cavern that you are in currently. There are creatures flying in and out of the hole. You see them land on another pad further away along with some other creatures that look like they are made for running, not flying. There are buildings sticking out from the sides of the cliffs and everything has an industrial, desert look to it.

Unless you steal one of the ships, not an option, or steal the flying creatures, you are stuck in the hole. To your left, the rest of the level you are on of this landing pad has nothing to your advantage. There are machines that look like transportation, but you still don’t know how to operate them. The rest of the crew is unloading while you desperately look for any escape.

None of the inhabitants are paying you any attention. None of them look like they could help you. Most are short and non-threatening with bulging eye sockets and round figures. The taller grey ones with lines running down their faces that look almost like scares seem to be in charge. They have sharp teeth and wear blood red. They look threatening, but too threatening for you to approach.

Marri leads you out of the way of the crew and closer to the edge of the drop off. You look down to see just how high up you still are within this crater. You can’t help but feel like you are in a grave.

The bottom is so far down that you can only make out specks of blue. Marri startles you from your thoughts, “The bottom is water and caves. There’s not much beyond the top. There are similar layouts. This planet is full of sinkholes and cities within. You won’t get far, unless you know how to fly. Your best bet is the water. They can’t track in water as well as land,” she whispers in your ear.

“Why are you telling me this? Unless I miraculously survive a fall, I can’t get down there.”

“I know. But there is a chance if you get one of those varactyls.” She gestures to the lizard looking creatures that you spotted earlier.

You look incredulously at her. She is actually trying to help you? After everything she said to you?

“Look, I don’t know who you are or if you have done anything wrong, but if you are innocent, I don’t want that on my conscience. I can’t help you much more than this, but I could cause a distraction. I have to think of my friends on that ship.”

“I understand. I am grateful. Believe me, I don’t want you to get hurt or killed because of me.” She seems relieved at your words. “I will wait until he sees that I am alright and you guys are safe, ok?”

Again, tears flood her eyes, “Thank you.”

She leads you away from the edge and back to the crew. You don’t have restraints on, but you keep your word. You wait for the Mandolorian to arrive.

Every ship entering the hole brings your heart into your throat with panic. For what feels like hours, but it is never him. You almost fool yourself into thinking that he won’t come.

No such luck. One ship that feels different from the rest enters the atmosphere and you can almost feel the danger radiating off that ship before you even see it. It is not a large ship by any means, but the two guns on the front of the curved hull and the battle scars gives away the true nature of it.

Marri stands besides you and you follow. The whole crew waits as the ship comes closer to the landing platform. You feel something pressed into your hand as you realize it’s a blaster. Marri leans into your ear and whispers, “Only use it if you have to.” You nod and tuck it into your waistband and cover it with your shirt.

Without another word, she walks up to Roxy and the rest of the crew follows. You are in the back of the crowd and all eyes are facing towards the ship that has now turned to land on its bottom with the hull facing up instead of out. Everyone is enraptured and you know you could try to escape now, but you told Marri you would wait until Mando saw that they hadn’t harmed you.

That’s when you notice something out of the corner of your eye. One of the smaller inhabitants trying to wrangle one of the winged lizards is stuck in the reins. Its stubby legs wrapped up and the creature is starting to take off. The poor bug-eyed thing was frantically waving its arms to try to grab the reins as it started to go over the edge, but it was upside down and couldn’t reach.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. You saw that in a moment and the next you were running as fast as you could towards the flying lizard, that was now almost over the edge completely, and reaching out to grab the little guy’s hand.

Now, here you were. Dangling over a hole that led to certain death should you fall. Focusing on the task, you grabbed onto the reins above the leg and pulled yourself up. Once you were above the alien, you carefully loosened the knot. He must’ve mistaken what you were doing and thought you were trying to kill him. He thrashed around even harder causing the lizard to jerk and try to hold you both. It was a scrawny one and smaller than its larger brethren, so your nerves shot up even more.

“Calm down, I’m trying to help you!”

That must have gotten through to him. The frantic squeaks stopped and he held still.

You had loosened the knot enough that you reached down as best you could and grabbed his hand. With a quick jerk, you tugged him out of the reins and swung him back towards the platform into the arms of his comrades.

The celebration and alien sounding cheers didn’t last as the creature decided it had enough of you. Thrashing wildly and randomly, your hands lost their grip and you’re thrown far. You only have a moment to realize you are heading towards the pit of the flightless lizards before panic fully sets in. You were high up; this was probably going to break some bones at best and kill you at worst.

You close your eyes preparing for the pain. A sudden stop in motion without any pain makes your eyes fly open in surprise. One of the varactyls, a giant blue one had caught you in its mouth like you were a toy to fetch. Thankfully, it had caught your shirt in its beak and not your flesh.

There’s commotion outside of the pit and a bit of a crowd is starting to rush into the pit. You know one of them is going to be Mando, so you have two options: take your chances or take this lizard for ride. The answer was obvious.

Patting the beak behind you, you try to convince the beast to let you go, “Hey, let go. Come on, come on. I’m not a toy.” You pat harder to get the point across and with a huff of boredom it does as it’s told. You don’t give it a chance to get far. This one had been saddled already and, in the commotion, had been forgotten. You weren’t going to look a gift lizard in the mouth.

You throw yourself into the saddle and give a spirited whip of the reins. The beast doesn’t hesitate either and lets out an excited yip before lunging forward.

If you hadn’t been holding onto the reins as tight as you had been, you would’ve fallen off. The varactyl was far faster than you expected. You heard some shouts behind you, but you didn’t look back in fear of what you might see.

The paths ahead of you were speeding by towards deeper into this hole and network of tunnels. Stalactites and stalagmites made up most of the natural architecture along with flora, but no signs of where any path lead. So, you chose one that looked like it may take you down towards the bottom of the pit like Marri said.

Everything sped by in a blur of tans and bursts of color from the plants that lined the path. You chanced a look behind you and no one was following you from what you could tell. At least there was some good news.

The bad news was that you had no idea where you were heading and no idea what to do now. There probably wasn’t a chance of actually hiding from a bounty hunter, but you were going to give it your best shot until you could stowaway on another ship.

Thankfully, the main paths seemed to lead in a spiral pattern either up or down levels and split off into smaller paths leading to the inner most parts of the planet. You had lucked out and you knew it was only a matter of time before that luck ended. Especially using so much to save that little one from the falling to his death. There wasn’t any other explanation you could think of for that move. The fact that you weren’t dead was a surprise at this point.

It didn’t take as long as you expected for you to reach the very bottom of the pit. The varactyl was extremely fast and sped through the levels like it had its own hyperdrive.

Once you saw the end of the path leading to docks where small fishing boats were lazily floating and very few life forms to witness your presence, you pulled back on the reins and hopped off. The varactyl walked towards the water and drank deeply.

You didn’t know where to go from here. The path just led straight into the water almost like a ramp. There were caves you could see all around. The water wasn’t deep until near the middle of the pit and Marri had said to keep to the water.

Cautiously, you stepped into the water. It was pleasant and clear. You could see the bottom and the stone underneath was smooth beneath your feet. You could survive in this water without fear of freezing.

Do I know how to swim? These simple questions that only you, or people who knew you, should be able to answer and having no answers yourself, was infuriating. You couldn’t remember anything about yourself, yet you knew basic concepts. The unfairness of everything was boiling your blood and your frustration was growing the more you thought about it.

No! I don’t have time for this. I’ll try floating and see if I can. The water looks shallow enough for the most part, so even if I can’t I could at least try wading towards some caves.

You knew that stealing a boat was not an option since all of them were being used. Swimming anywhere was better than nothing.

You were about to step out further into the water when a thought hit you. They could track me by following that creature. It’s a dead giveaway. You looked back at the bright blue beast that stuck out like a flashing sign advertising your whereabouts.

You walked over to it and gently waved your hands in a shooing motion, “Thanks for the catch and the ride, but you should go.” It didn’t budge. Just looked at you with intelligent eyes and tilting its head in a questioning look. You sighed. “Ugh, come on. You should go. Go free if you want! Just run somewhere!” You started waving your arms a little more aggressively, “Shoo! Go!” You walked up to it closer and louder. The beast finally lost interest and left towards where it came from. You breathed a sigh of relief and walked back to the water.

It looked more intimidating now that you were trying to think of how to swim. Maybe it would be an instinct more than anything. So, you stopped thinking and tried to spear the water surrounding you to your arms in front of you and almost laying out. Your stomach reflexively tightened with strain of keeping you afloat. Ok, so at least I can float. It’s not pretty, but I can float.

Establishing the fact that you could float and possibly swim, your newest and best plan was to hide in the caves and steal whatever food you could. It sounded a lot simpler than it was going to be, but what choice did you have? The blaster in your waistband wasn’t going to do much good if you missed.

The docks were under an overhang, blocking it from the hanger’s view. Swimming out into the open was a stupid idea. Your best bet was to stay close to the sides and close to the docks for food.

You didn’t know what Marri had meant about not being able to track you in the water, but you would do your best to stay in the water and take that fact at face value. So, you swam to a cave off to the left of the docks, tucked away behind cliff faces and rock outcroppings.

You swam for a while along the edges of the rocks until you could still see the docks in the distance. You found a cave along the way, but would have to wait and see if this cave would even work for your needs.

I don’t even know what my needs are. The mouth of the cave opened to a sandy inner sanctuary. You could rest there and sort out what you would need. What if I can’t eat? What if I need something specific? Am I allergic to anything?

You laid down in the sand, staring up to the ceiling of the cave. What if running away had just killed you? Fear chilled your heart. I think I just made the biggest mistake I could make. Hot tears of frustration and hopelessness pricked the corners of your eyes. You had no idea who or even what you were and you had left anyone who did know in fear of being killed or sold off when you just may have killed yourself unknowingly.

“You stupid, stupid girl. What did you just do?” You held back a sob. All the emotions that had been in the back of your head since the moment you woke in that cell were coming to a boiling point now that you were laying down in the best form of safety you could find at the moment.

You wrapped an arm around your eyes and tried to calm your breathing. If you panicked now or got too emotional, you could die for sure if you let the weight of everything crash down and suffocate your actions. You had to hold off for now. You could cry when you were truly safe.

Those thoughts were pushed deep down and you sat up. You cupped your hand and drank deeply to quench your thirst that had built up. When was the last time I had food? That thought brought a grumble to your stomach. At least now I know I need sustenance in some form and I don’t just draw energy from the air or something weird.

The thought of going back out of hiding so soon was not appealing at the moment in case they had tracked you as far as to the docks. Once night fell, there could be a chance to steal some food if you found some by the fisherman’s homes. Stealing wasn’t your first option, but you didn’t have money or any way to fish. You still had the blaster that Marri gave you, but there wasn’t a good chance that a blaster shot wouldn’t destroy any source of food and leave enough behind.

You made your way further into the gave and away from the water. Utapau was warmer than on a ship, but you were still careful not to be close to the water in case it rose and soaked you. You were still wearing the thin clothes from Polis Massa’s medical center. If it got chilly at night on this planet, you would have to steal some clothes.

There wasn’t a memory, but there was a feeling of guilt and shame about possibly having to steal from innocent beings in order to survive. Maybe that means I’m not a bad person. Or I am and I don’t remember how to shove these feelings down yet. That thought wasn’t appealing to you. If you had been a terrible person up until the loss of memories, you weren’t in a rush to get them back.

I’ll argue about morality with myself later, you mused to yourself and let sleep take ahold of you once again for lack of anything else to do. The day had been quite exciting and your body was ready to catch its breath.

You awoke to a light chill blowing into the cave. You looked towards the mouth of the cave and only darkness met your eyes, so you walked out to the water that was still fairly warm. The night was gorgeous. You could see so many stars that it looked like a city in the sky with a moon or planet so close it took up the rest of the sky.

There were quiet squawks from above, probably the lizard like creatures. There were no other sounds besides the quiet rippling of the water.

Looking towards where you thought the docks were, you saw lights along the main bath and the water reflected the light from the stars well enough to light your way.

Now or never, I guess.

You swam towards the docks in search of anything that might be of use. You were careful not to splash and gently cut through the water to not draw attention.

There was a main dock house and about ten houses near the water. You weren’t exactly expecting food to be left out on a windowsill, but you hadn’t thought it would be this hard to find anything.

You walked around the houses, trying to look inconspicuous while you did. There were tools and nets out around, boats left tied to the posts, shoes (which none fit your tiny five-toed feet instead of the two prong shapes), and paddles. You did find a spear lying against the side of a house, which you decided to take and use some rope to sling it around your back.

There was a clothesline that did have a grey wraparound cloak that you took as well for warmth. Still, no food though.

You decided to call it a night when you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A glint of starlight off of something silver. There’s no way. There’s no way. Just be calm.

You walked slowly, trying to not look scared or like you had been caught. You wrapped the cloak around you and used that as a chance to pull the blaster out of your waistband and keep it hidden.

Nothing popped up and no one shouted at you. You were stuck though; if you left back towards safety, they would easily spot you and follow you to your hiding place and if you walked back up the path, then they would spot you and have no fuss with locals. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

In order to keep the locals safe, you chose to walk back up the path. There could be a shootout and you didn’t want anyone to be hurt in case you were right.

It took every ounce of control to not run or try to hide. If they hadn’t spotted you or if they weren’t even there, there was no point in running. Your heart was pounding though and you felt sweat run down the side of you face. You had to concentrate on each step being slow and steady.

You walked in the middle of the path away from the lights on either side in order to not be as easily seen. You were holding your breath to listen for any sound at all, but it was like the night was just you and your footsteps. Even the squawking had died.

Then, just barely louder than the tiny scuffle of your footsteps, was the sound of someone following. It sounded like metal or spurs or some kind. You almost stopped walking when you heard it, but you kept going like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t being stalked.

I am not prey.

Without a second to keep thinking or start to panic, you whipped the blaster around and came face to face with the silver helmet much closer than you expected. The blaster was aimed right at his armored chest.

“Walk away right now or get shot,” You did your best threatening voice and tried not to let your hands shake.

The silver helmet just continued to stare at you. The black of the visor swallowed your vision until it was like staring into a void. He still said nothing.

He just looked down at the blaster and you followed his gaze. His gloved hands were on his belt, not his weapons. He wasn’t actively threatening you, but maybe he thought he could take you without them. When he looked back up to your face, he softly spoke, “Your blaster’s safety is on.”

[the-lady-of-stars]

Wishing you were somehow here again -  Pt. 2

Commander Wolffe x Jedi ! Reader

Summary: The time has come... execute order 66

Warnings: Character death!! Injury/fighting/violence. Angst... and lots of it. I would say I’m sorry but I’m really just out here living my best life writing some lovely heartbreak 💞💖💘 

A/N: I listened to across the stars the entire time I wrote this for that extra angsty vibe  😇 hope u enjoy bb. If you haven’t read part 1 I recommend giving it a read before this! : ) Also dw I am not leaving it at this, there will be a Part 3. I’m not that mean ☺️ 

Tags: @wille-zarr @chaotic-noceur

Cato Neimoidia. What a beautiful city to fly over. 

You, Master Plo and the rest of the 104th Batallion had been assigned to the planet in hopes of besieging a Trade Federation stronghold. 

You peered out the windows of your starfighter at the rocky arches of the surrounding environment, enjoying the brief moment of peace and beauty this war had offered you. In front of you flew your master, Plo Koon, behind you Commander Wolffe, your beloved, then the rest of the pack trailed behind. 

You ran a finger over the makeshift grass ring that adorned your left hand, your heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of the previous week’s events. Your husband, in spirit at least. You planned to have a real wedding in the future, perhaps on Naboo if you could manage to pull a few strings with Skywalker. His marriage to the Senator had been no secret to you, so surely Anakin would not mind helping you with yours. 

You could picture it now, a marble balcony overlooking the waterfalls of Naboo, the burning orange sun gleaming from them as you kissed each other like no one was watching. Your master would be there to officiate it- he knew about you and his Commander, of course. You never had been able to hide anything from him. Master Plo had always been somewhat of a father figure to you ever since he took you as his Padawan when you were little, so of course he quickly noticed the bond forming between you and Wolffe. Much as Qui-Gon had turned a blind eye to Obi-Wan and Satine, your master had said nothing about the subject except that he wanted you to be happy, and if Wolffe provided you with such happiness then he was more than willing to protect your little secret, although you briefly remember Wolffe mentioning something about receiving an ‘if-you-ever-break-her-heart-you’re-dead’ speech from him, but you decided not to inquire further. The rest of the pack would be there of course. They were family, and without them to watch it would be no wedding at all. 

Being in a starfighter, you had no means of communicating with Wolffe except over the comm channel which also included the rest of the battalion, and you weren't in the mood to put up with Boost’s usual quips. You could, however, radiate love in his direction through the force, so that’s what you did. 

Wolffe’s chest pounded as he felt your force signature surround him like a ghostly embrace. It brought a heat to his cheeks, hands gripping the controls tighter. Any nerves from the mission dissipated and he was left feeling warm and whole. He thought to himself then that he did not ever want to feel any other way. Blissful. He was no Jedi, didn’t have a lick of force-sensitivity, but he could damn well try to return the sentiment. He found himself furrowing his brows and squinting slightly, while with all his might he mustered up his favourite memories of you, trying his best to radiate the way you made him feel. He hoped you could feel it. 

You could. A soft, breathy chuckle burst from your lips at his efforts, at how truly sweet your tough Commander was on the inside. There were few things you could be sure of in life, but the dream of really marrying him was one of them. One day, hopefully soon, you would see him stood o- what was wrong? The adoration Wolffe was radiating suddenly cut off as though someone had flicked a switch, nothing but neutrality emanating from him now. Opening yourself up to more force signatures you felt the same emotion from the rest of the boys behind you. Something was wrong, and your master clearly sensed it too as the only real emotion you could sense was his confusion. 

“Men, is something the matter?” Plo spoke over the comm channel. 

There was a momentary pause, then Wolffe was the next to speak.

“General Plo Koon, General Y/N Y/L/N, you are both subject to execution under Order 66 due to crimes against the Republic.”

Before either you or your master could say a word your ships burst into flames, your own men firing right at you. The engine was destroyed- there was nothing you could do but wail Wolffe’s name in one last desperate plea as your ship began to plummet down towards the rocky terrain of Cato Neimoidia. Smoke. Heat. Burning. Sharp. Pain. Then nothing. The world went black as your starfighter made contact with the ground. The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was the sight of your master laying dead on the ground nearby.

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

Your ears rang, a sharp tone muffling the sound of shouting voices. Clones. A pang of fear shot straight to your heart as you remembered how they had attempted to kill you, and how they had succeeded with your dear master. You flinched up instinctively, wanting to run but collapsing the second you so much as moved due to the piercing pain that struck your entire body. You whimpered, tears pricking at your eyes, hearing the clones get closer. 

It seemed that the crash had thrown you from your starfighter and into an alcove in the rocks, which gave you the slightest bit of shelter. As the ringing in your ears subsided a little you heard a pair of footsteps drawing closer to your position. You dug your fingers into the ground, desperately trying to get to your feet so you could defend yourself but with no luck. There was a small cave entrance a few metres away which could offer you a hiding place, but you weren’t fast enough. A boot planted onto your back, pinning you down and earning a yelp.

You craned your head back, trying to see who had a hold of you through the tears which had welled up. 

Wolffe. But he looked nothing like the Wolffe you knew. Your Wolffe never so much as glanced at you without tenderness, but now? A snarl had replaced his smile, eyes glaring down at you like a predator.

“Wolffe-” you choked out, which resulted in him pressing his foot down further.

“Jedi,” he practically growled. “You are to be executed for your crimes against the Republic.”

Before he could make another move, you mustered all the strength you could find and pushed him away from you and into the cave entrance nearby with the force, enough to keep him subdued for a minute or so. Still riding the spike of energy, you pulled yourself to your feet, making your way over to the miniature medical droid which was kept in each starfighter, which had clearly fallen from the crash with you. You brought it to you with the force, pressing the on button once it was in your hands. The droid buzzed to life, whirring around you in circles, clearly in distress at your state. 

“Not me,” your voice was coarse. “Give the Commander a full head scan. I’m looking for something. A chip, possibly?” You nodded your head in the direction of Wolffe slumped over in the cave entrance, the droid zooming over to him immediately. 

When you finally made it over to the cave the droid repeatedly made a beeping sound over one particular part of Wolffe’s head. 

“What’d you find?” 

The droid pulled up a hologram, a red circle highlighting a small piece of organic matter. 

“This appears to be some kind of tumour, which is not normally found in human brains,” it announced.

Your eyes widened, all the breath leaving your body. Fives had been right all along. There really was a chip hidden in the clones. 

“Remove it.” 

“But- General- I don’t think this is the place to-”

“Now!” you spoke sternly, trying to keep your voice down so the other clones wouldn’t find you. They’d notice sooner or later that their Commander was missing, but you had until them to remove that chip. 

“Very well, General. You may want to look away for this.”

A anaesthesia shot was pricked into Wolffe’s neck before the droid protruded an arm with a red laser attached to the end, beginning to cut a hole into his head. You winced, closing your eyes and holding on to Wolffe’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

 “You’ll be okay, my love,” you spoke under your breath to him, rubbing soothing circles on Wolffe’s palm. “I’ve got you.”

The whirring stopped. You opened your eyes again to see what was going on when the droid announced, “The procedure has been completed and the chip has been successfully removed. The Commander will awaken momentarily.”

“Thank you, you can shut down now,” you told the droid, shuffling closer to Wolffe so he knew you were there when he woke up. 

About thirty seconds later, Wolffe began to stir. With a groan he reached a hand up to his head, thumbing over the gauze the incision had been covered by. 

“Ahh, where am I?” 

“Wolffe? Wolffe, my love, look at me. Look at me, please.”

With a grimace he turned his head to look at you, blinking a few times before his eyes widened like saucers. 

“Cyare! What happened to you? Are you okay? Who did this to you?” he panicked, getting to his knees so he could rake his eyes over you better. 

“Oh, Wolffe...” he was back. Your Wolffe was back. You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing wildly. 

“Oh shhh, shhh easy Cyare. I’ve got you now, you’re safe my sweet girl,” he cooed, rubbing his hands soothingly over your upper arms. “What happened?”

Wolffe paused, looking over at your burning starfighter, at his brothers slightly behind it stood around the body of General Plo. General Plo. Order 66. Oh. He launched himself away from you, breathing frantically. 

“It was me. I’m what happened. I- I did this. Order 66. I killed General Plo and I nearly killed you- oh stars...” Wolffe looked down at his shaking hands, thinking about what he had done with them. 

“Wolffe, look at me. Hey. Look,” you got closer to him, taking his hands in yours to ground him. Still trembling he brought his eyes to yours, tears streaming down his cheeks. “That was not you, my love. That was Sidious. He was controlling you and all the other clones through the chips in your brain. They were planted there for that very reason. I do not blame you, nobody blames you. This was not your fault at all.” 

Wolffe broke down into a flurry of “I’m sorry” and “forgive me” but you just pulled him into your chest, holding him tight, pressing kisses to his temple and his cheeks to reassure him. 

“Wolffe, my love, we don’t have much time. Your brothers are still looking for me to check if I’m dead and I’m sure they’ve noticed you’re missing by now. They’ll find us. I removed your chip but they’re still under control of Sidious. We have to leave.”

“No,” Wolffe choked sternly.

“No? What do you mean no?”

“You don’t have a ship any more, and if you ran now they’d see you and kill you on sight. I need to go back, to tell them I found your body and disposed of it. Then you run when we leave. Run and never come back, you hear me?”

Wolffe spoke through tears, clasping your shoulders tightly to make sure you heard every word. 

“No, no, Wolffe you can’t do that. I’m not going anywhere without you. I’m not leaving you to Sidious. I love you.”

“Y/N, please. My sweet girl. Oh, look at you. I wanted to marry you so bad. More than anything. But now I realise what I want more than anything is to keep you alive, even if that means I can’t be yours any more. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much,” he moved his hands up to cup your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t you go coming back to find me now, you hear me? Run and never come back. Make a life for yourself. You do that for me, hmm? Promise me,” he wept, wet eyes looking straight into yours.

“Okay. Okay I promise,” you felt your heart tearing in two. 

“That’s a good girl. My good girl,” he spoke softly.

“Wolffe-” you whimpered. 

“I know, I know, love. Everything will be alright.”

Wolffe sighed, heart visibly breaking. His glassy eyes observed your face as though it would be the last time he would ever see it. And it would. 

Unable to find any other words to say, Wolffe leaned down and kissed you one last time, tears mingling on your cheeks. His lips pressed hard against yours, clinging on to the moment as long as you both could. When he finally pulled away you chased after him, not ready to let go. 

“I have to go, cyare. Back to my brothers. I’ll be alright, don’t you worry about me, hmm? You stay safe now, I mean it. I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

Wolffe stood, absorbing the sight of you. How this was the last time he’d ever see his girl. With one final sigh he tore his eyes from you and tipped his helmet back on, exiting the cave and leaving everything he ever loved behind. 

The war left its scars on everyone, but Wolffe knew these ones would never heal.

[headaching]

i'll eat my own face if you don't post a headaches excerpt <3

no please don't eat your face i'll do anything

Ty Lee begins spreading the makeup across Mai’s cheek in one long motion. This is worse than the eyes, Mai thinks. Her open eyes find no refuge from Ty Lee’s beautiful face; her brows are furrowed in concentration, bare lips pursed into a thin line, eyes rarely blinking. Regrettably for Mai, Ty Lee’s hand abandons her arm to hold the compact of white makeup, dipping the brush back into it more frequently as she continues.

“Are you okay?” Ty Lee asks after a while, when she moves on to Mai’s neck. Sweat beads Mai’s forehead.

“Yeah, of course,” Mai lies, completely avoiding Ty Lee’s face. Ty Lee is silent at first, and when she’s done with the face makeup, she sets the brush and compact on the table. She sighs and steps closer to Mai, holding a small brush doused with red lip paint.

“You sure?” Ty Lee sounds genuinely concerned, leading Mai to bitterly wonder when she became such a bad liar.

Although Azula is the last person on Mai’s mind, she says, “Yeah, I’m just worried about Azula’s plan.”

“Well, don’t be. You’re good at this kind of thing.” Ty Lee leans forward and touches Mai’s shoulder freely, and Mai’s heart is at her throat.

“You think so?”

“Um, yes!” Ty Lee laughs, like it’s obvious. “You’re intimidating to most people, and you get what you want because of it. It’s awesome.” Mai allows a tiny, closed mouth smile to break onto her face. Ty Lee’s hand is still on her shoulder, and the smallest caress of her thumb doesn’t go overlooked.

“Notice how I said, ‘Most people’? You’re not intimidating to me.” Ty Lee’s smile is honest and extremely smug. Her hand leaves Mai’s shoulder to tilt her chin upward with her thumb and index finger.

Mai exhales slowly, then glances up into Ty Lee’s eyes with a raised eyebrow. “No?” Her voice is ragged and barely audible, not intimidating in the least. Ty Lee shakes her head, and opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. She brings the brush to Mai’s lips and tests a single stroke.

“You’re not so scary. Watch.” Before Mai can do more than gasp, Ty Lee is sitting in her lap. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she holds them in front of her like she’s just been caught.

“Ty Lee!” Mai hisses, eyes narrowing in anger.

“You let me do this,” Ty Lee says innocently as she pats Mai’s back with her free hand.

“I didn’t let you; you just did it,” Mai huffs in exasperation, her cheeks unbearably warm and dangerously close to Ty Lee’s face, which remains easygoing.

“But you’re not making me get up,” Ty Lee points out. Mai rolls her eyes for lack of a better response, because she should make her get up, she really should. “It’s okay, Mai,” she consoles, and somehow, the tenderness of her voice eases some tension in Mai, specifically her hands. They hook around Ty Lee’s hips, connecting at the wrists. Ty Lee beams, “Nothing’s wrong with a little casual affection.”

Casual. The word echoes through Mai’s head, leaving her more embarrassed with every passing second. “Just hurry up,” Mai mutters, and Ty Lee breathes a short laugh with the shake of her head. Her braid swings from side to side, and Mai glares at it for being so cute.

“Then, stay still, silly,” Ty Lee commands playfully. Mai is close to fuming, but she keeps her lips closed as Ty Lee finally resumes painting. “I have to sit here, anyway.”

“Another tradition?” Mai asks with as much sarcasm as she can manage while hardly moving her lips.

“Still.” The demand of Ty Lee’s voice shuts Mai up, but it doesn’t stop her from rolling her eyes. Ty Lee begins on Mai’s upper lip as she clarifies, “No, this is just a better angle.”

Mai gives a curt, “Mhmm,” of disbelief.

“It’s important we get this right.” Mai isn’t sure if it’s Ty Lee’s soothing, measured voice or their undeniably intimate sitting arrangement, but her imagination starts to wander. She pictures her fingers dancing along Ty Lee’s back, reaching up to kiss her, drinking in her smile as she draws Mai in closer. This fantasy is where she is safe; Mai’s reality is much more dangerous.

The clang of Ty Lee setting the brush on the counter startles Mai. Ty Lee is still sitting in Mai’s lap, though her torso is stretched to reach the table. She returns empty handed, and she’s pouting.

“You’re not okay,” Ty Lee proclaims.

“What?” Even to herself, Mai sounds far away.

“You were spaced out,” Ty Lee answers, relaxing her fingers on Mai’s shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the fabric of her tunic. Ty Lee’s mystifying, yet unattainable touch combined with Mai’s supposed transparency suddenly has her outraged.

“I told you I’m fine, Ty Lee,” Mai snaps through gritted teeth. Ty Lee’s brows furrow defiantly, but she doesn’t move her hands. Mai’s arms feel numb around her hips.

“You don’t seem fine. I know you.”

“No, you used to know me,” Mai growls, glaring up into wide gray eyes, “but you left.” Me, a choked voice thinks, you left me. “Now, you’re here just because Azula asked you to be.” You left me with her.

“Hey,” Ty Lee says, defensively crossing her arms, and Mai allows a lapse in her indignation to mourn the loss of Ty Lee’s fingers. “You don’t know the whole story. That’s not fair, Mai.”

Mai’s voice gets louder and more acidic as she says, “What’s not fair, Ty Lee, is after all that, you’re pretending like nothing happened.” Like I didn’t spend years convincing myself I was over you. “You don’t get to come back, talk to me, touch me, like nothing ever changed.”

Then again, nothing really has changed between them, has it? Whatever false progress Mai believed she made crumbled between her fingers when Ty Lee hugged her as they reunited. Ty Lee’s deathly sweetness was as potent as it had always been, and even now, though she’s clearly hurt by Mai’s words, her features are soft and still.

Ty Lee’s hands find her own shoulders, and a tear shines in her eye as she leans forward, supporting her cheek against her crossed arms. “I don’t?” Her voice is hushed, strained, on the verge of breaking.

“Not without saying something,” Mai says, her tone much softer as guilt swells in her chest.

“What happened?” Ty Lee whispers.

“Nothing,” Mai replies against any good judgment she has left. “Nothing happened. You were gone, and it was like…” Ty Lee lifts her chin from her arms, her jaw slack, eyes huge and expectant. “I felt nothing anymore.”

Ty Lee sighs and unwinds her arms to rest her hands against Mai’s shoulders again. “I missed you,” Ty Lee says quietly, fiddling with the collar of Mai’s uniform, staring at her fingers. Mai’s tongue is like steel in her mouth, unable to form a response. “I’m sorry,” Ty Lee whimpers, then finally looks into Mai’s eyes. She shakes her head and gives something between a laugh and a cry.

“Ty—” is all Mai can say before Ty Lee’s shoulders crumple forward and heavy tears streak her makeup slightly. “No, no, no,” Mai mutters as she sits up straighter. Instinctively, Mai’s hands find Ty Lee’s shoulder blades and begin rubbing circles into her back. “It’s okay. Don’t cry, Ty Lee. You’ll ruin your hard work.”

Ty Lee’s hands move to touch her face, but Mai’s catch them first. She squeezes firmly, and Ty Lee watches in surprise, tears momentarily lapsed. Mai scours her brain for something, anything, to make them disappear altogether.

“Hey,” she says gently, then smiles, only adding to Ty Lee’s confusion. “Do you remember when you used to have nightmares, at the academy? And you would crawl into my bed because you were scared?”

Ty Lee breathes a genuine laugh, and Mai sighs in relief, ignoring the familiar sense of danger that accompanies these memories. “And you would say, ‘Ty Lee, go to bed,'” she growls in her best Mai impression, gruff and angry, complete with a scowl. Mai rolls her eyes and scoffs, but she’s grinning, too. She tries to elbow Ty Lee, but she can’t without breaking their hold, so she sits back in defeat.

“But you would get in anyway,” Mai deflects.

“You would lay facing away from me,” Ty Lee’s smile is fond, her eyes adrift in the memory, “at first. You’d always turn around eventually.”

“Because I could hear you crying,” Mai murmurs. “I couldn’t sleep,” she adds defensively.

“You always looked so mad,” Ty Lee mocks, and Mai is half tempted to yank her braid.

“I was mad,” Mai retorts instead. “You cried so hard you shook the bed.” Ty Lee laughs, then exhales calmly. Her eyes are suddenly hooked on their hands, which are still clasped together. She pulls one free to intertwine their fingers instead, and any hint of amusement on Mai’s face is gone.

“How else was I supposed to get you to turn around?”

The assuredness of Ty Lee’s voice, the graze of her thumb against Mai’s, the wholesomeness of this memory (and their mutual acknowledgment of its existence), has proven to be too much for Mai. Blood pounds in her head, a headache rapidly approaching. Her eyes water as her palms go clammy in Ty Lee’s.

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer Pt. III

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Things seem to be on a roller coaster, highs and lows and jumping emotions. A discussion about one of the pivotal points of their relationships that could either be the start of a new beginning or the awakening of a terrible ending.

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: Angst, fluff, manipulative-ish speech, very slight age gap, implied smut, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. I am so sorry this took literally a lifetime to write and get out but its FINALLY HERE. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here // Read Part Two Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Hummingbirds sang their beautiful song, fluttering through the evening sun. Wind bristling through the trees, the faint sound of wind chimes and a bird splashing in the bird bath. The outside air; light and warm, a breath of life and happiness. Almost taunting with how it didn't change from how it was left. 

It was a stark contrast to the nearly tangible heaviness that cast itself inside, sitting thick and awkward. The sound of a metal spoon clinking against glass nearly drowning out the sound of the help Ransom paid to stay and make dinner. The warmth of the cup of tea keeping thoughts from straying too far as tension begin to settle. 

Uncomfortable shifting in the dining chair, occasional, timid glances to the man next to you. Never had you ever seen him look so raw. His hair pushed back from running his hands through it so many times, instead of from the numerous products you knew he had stocked in his closet. The sweater he wore, albeit already worn, was so stretched out from him pulling on the cuffs that it naturally just rested against his palm. One hand fiddled with the fabric as he bit at his nails on the other. 

The last time he even looked remotely this nervous was after a few drinks when he showed you some writing he had done, something he hid but was proud of. And that was easily more than a year ago. But now, now was different. This almost looked like regret. 

After a quick sip of the warm liquid to calm your nerves, you cleared your throat, looking over at him. Ransom's gaze quickly snapped to focus in on you, waiting for you to speak.

"You asked me to stay, so what is it you could possibly want to talk about now?" You hadn't meant to sound so rude, but the exhaustion and irritability of the situation had settled heavily. You'd give anything to just have this over with, to be able to be alone and process everything. 

Ransom opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't understand how we're somehow on the same page and not at the same damn time. Frankly, I don't understand how we were both there and you somehow… came out feeling like, like that about it, about me."

A scoff escaped from you, shaking your head and looking at him with utter bewilderment written on your face. "Ransom, you truly don't see how I could have fallen in love with you?" His only response was a look that was somewhere between confusion and certainty, as if he was confused as to how love was even an option. 

"Okay then," you took another sip of your tea before staring back at him, determined at this point to at least make him see it your way, if not to even hurt him a little. "Tell me, how do you remember our trip to Paris?"

He huffed out a chuckle that was void of amusement, eyebrows scrunched as he shrugged, "I don't know, it was about a month after I started fucking your brains out. Woke up one morning and told you to pack a bag, which you did because at that point you did whatever I said, and we flew to Paris in my private jet. We spent a week there, having sex and eating at fancy restaurants. I bought you a bunch of clothes and jewelry. Then we came home."

Your eyes had fallen shut, shaking your head and clicking your tongue as you opened them. He looked smug, but his attitude quickly changed when he saw the anger and disbelief pouring itself out of you. "That's truly how you remember that trip?"

He shrugged, "Yeah," his voice faltered softly as he continued, "How do you remember it?"

Some part of you begged not to open that door, not to go diving in to memories that would no doubt leave you even more hurt than before. 

Delicate touches and even softer sheets, a soft breeze rustling the sheer curtains that led to the balcony overlooking the city, intricate smells - a warming mixture of coffee, baked bread, and a touch of nicotine.

Everything about it screamed Paris, the city of romance, the city of love and adventure. The city that undoubtedly shifted the emotions that flowed. 

"I know you're awake, baby girl," your eyes hadn't even opened yet, a smile creeping on your lips as your skin warmed at the sound of the pet name. 

There was that low chuckle, the one the vibrated the chest your head rested on, that made you melt and float at the same time. The delicate touches, the soft swirls he drew on your back turned to a firm squeeze on your hip. "Get your sweet ass up, I'm taking you out." 

Ransom slid out from underneath you, soft whines leaving you in protest as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. You were met with his bare backside as he made his way to the bathroom. "I'm too sore to move," you called out with a pout. 

He stopped at the door way, looking over his shoulder at you, eyes dark and a shit eating grin on his face. "Well, I suggest if you want me to kiss it better, you better get your ass in the damn shower."

-

"Where are you taking me?" The words came out as a giggle as you clung onto Ransom's arm, blindfolded and letting him lead you to God only knows as. The ground beneath gradually became flat and smooth, unlike the walkways of the streets. 

"You're not selling me off, are you?" You teased.

Ransom chuckled and you could feel his body move as he shook his head. "No, sweetheart. You're worth much more than everything you're about to see. It'd be hard finding someone willing to pay that much."

He stopped moving, reaching up to slowly pull the blindfold off. "You used to talk about visiting art museums all across the world when we were little, so I figured this'd be a nice little treat."

You squealed softly and you took in your surroundings. You were standing in the middle of the Tuileries garden at the Louvre, beautiful sculptures and flora overwhelming your senses. "God! You really do spoil me," you look at him with a bright smile. "Come on, I'm dragging you through as much as possible before you decide it's time to leave."

He smirked and shook his head, "Well, we have reservations at 6 for a restaurant not too far from here. But other than that, the day is yours, princess."

"You're letting me decide what we do for a whole day?" You raised your eyebrows at him. 

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," that cocky tone was something you were coming to love more than tolerate, "Lead the way."

-

It was no wonder Ransom made you wear a nicer dress that day, insisting on you putting a little more effort into your appearance than usual. He never asked for anything like that. You found it odd earlier that morning as you smeared his favorite red lipstick across your lips, but as you stood outside the restaurant where meals cost easily as much as your phone bill, you understood. 

A balcony seat with a view overlooking the city. The sun was just starting to set, spreading hues of pink, purple, and gold in the sky as the lights from the Eiffel Tower could be seen glowing in the distance. People were still bustling in the streets, couples hand in hand, kids running and laughing, the occasional Parisian leaning against the stone building with a cigarette. It hit you then that there was no one else you'd want to be in Paris with. 

Already, Ransom had pulled your seat out for you and pushed you in, ordered your drinks and food for you, and as you looked back at him you caught him staring. For just a split second there was something more to the look on his face, a glisten in his eyes you'd never seen before. But, just as soon as you saw it, it was gone. A smirk spread across his lips, his eyes set back to their normal hue and you wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face. 

Not because he was being an asshole or because he was right about something (and knew damn well you were wrong), but because you knew this time that smirk was hiding something. But the time to pester and whine was neither here nor there when you were surrounded by riches, lavished in the luxury that was Paris, the upscale restaurant, and the company of Ransom. 

-

The cool metal of the railing nipped through the material of your shirt as you overlooked the now dark city from the comfort of your hotel room. A few glasses of wine you normally wouldn't drink, a shared cigarette you didn't quite like but did anyway because "it's a part of the experience"; and quite honestly, Ransom could get you to try anything at least once. 

The padding of his bare feet across the floor and onto the patio pulled you out of the replay the was looping in your head. The soft smiles, the feeling of his hand in your, the laughter and warmth that filled your chest all day quickly being pushed to the side as he reached his arms around you, quicker than you could turn around. 

Ransom clasped a necklace around your neck and when you looked down to examine it your heart swelled. A dainty, chain with a nice size diamond laid against your skin. If you didn't know any better your say it resembled a heart but… maybe that was just wishful thanking. 

"Ransom, you didn't have to ge-"

"I wanted to," he quickly cut you off, "And be a good girl for me and don't ever take it off." He looked at you expectantly as you looked back at him, eyes glossy and a slight pout to your lip as emotions overwhelmed you. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Reaching into your bag you pulled something out. Without even looking at it you tossed it at him, annoyance and hurt written on your face as you both watched the diamond necklace skitter toward him and stop by his hand that rested on on the table. 

You watched as Ransom picked it up, swallowing hard and jaw setting as he examined the piece of jewelry. A sigh and shake of his head as he eyes fell to the little "H" he had engraved on the backside of it. 

You smirked, huffing and biting the inner corner of your cheek before speaking, "Go ahead and tell me again how this was just an arrangement."

Taglis (cross through means you were unable to be tgged)   @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers @steeeeverogers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @bemysugarbean @dreamlesswonder86 @ambrosixx @heyiamthatbitch @daazzeey, @fresa-luna @bitchcraftandwitchery @thatoneslytherinbeater @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs @imsonick @sambucky8 @honeybabybubba @lover1307 @marvelismysafezone @bxby-kittxn @nibbles7192 @21stcenturywitchcraft @ssworldofsw @im-married-to-chris-evans

[rai-wick]

Gally x Reader Chapter 35: The end

Y/N'S POV

I felt a cool salty breeze blow over my face making me groan. I wearily opened my eyes to see I was lying in a wooden hut. I grunted in pain as I got up from the bed. I pulled up my shirt to see bandages around my stomach. I slipped on the shoes which were next to the bed and lifted the thin veil over the entrance. I walked out to see a sandy shore ahead of me. So this was the safe haven everyone was talking about.

"You jerk!"I turned my head to see a bunch of kids messing around. Looking on, I saw a small settlement with people walking around or talking with one another. I stumbled as I walked around, watching in wonder while people worked with some stopping to watch me passing by. Looking in front of me, I saw Thomas, Frypan and Minho approaching me. I waved at them before Thomas pulled me into a hug.

"Thank god you woke up"His voice was muffled as he hugged me tightly.

"How long was I asleep?"I asked when he let me go, only for me to be pulled into more hugs from Frypan and Minho.

"Almost two weeks"Frypan replied.

"Please don't ever run in front of bullets again"Minho half-joked.

"I can't make any promises"I chuckled as they rolled their eyes"So, where's Gally?"I asked them, my heart pounding, dreading any more bad news.

"He's fine"Thomas assured me"He's just resting for the first time since we got here"

"He hasn't been resting?"I questioned.

"He wouldn't leave your side"Minho said softly"Wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat. He wouldn't even shower. I'm surprised his smell alone didn't wake you up"I smiled at that before looking down. I saw the guys look at each other before Thomas took my arm.

"Come on, I want to show you something"I waved to Minho and Frypan as Thomas led me to a center area that had a huge rock in front of it with dozens of names carved into it. I ran my fingers over the names: Teresa, Winston, Chuck, Alby and.....Newt. I paused at his name, staring at it.

"I miss him Tommy"I said quietly.

"I miss him too _______"He put his arm around my shoulders"Gally said he found you clenching this"He opened his hand to reveal the tubular pendant which was now open"I found some letters inside"I looked up at Thomas as I picked up the pendant.

"What did they say?"

"I found one addressed to me and one for you"He pointed to the paper curled inside"Don't worry, I didn't read yours. Whatever Newt wrote, it isn't for me to know"He smiled softly at me"I want you to the keep the pendant. I have my letter, it's enough for me"He kissed my forehead and patted my shoulder before walking away.

I made my way to a cliff side just beyond the huts and sat down. I took a deep breath then with shaky hands, I pulled out the letter and read it.

Dear _______,

I don't know when I last wrote down something this important. Not since before the maze, I suppose. But I feel you need to read this because I know you're probably shutting everyone out like you do when things begin to wear down on you. But I can't let you do that, love. I can't let you waste away just because you believe I'm gone. I'm not, I promise.

I won't relay when or how I got infected but I've had it long enough to accept my fate. I'm not scared of dying but I am scared of forgetting those I love. Every night before I sleep, I've been saying their names over and over. Alby, Winston, Chuck. It reminds me of what we used to take for granted back in the glade; the sun shining over a new day, the wild yells of bonfire night and you.

I always hoped despite the fact you always said you loved us all equally, that perhaps you felt something more for me as I have always felt for you. Alas, your heart wasn't mine to take, it was made for Gally. I want you to be happy, you deserve it, whether it's with Gally or without but I don't want you to waste your future because it's not just your future, it's ours. As long as you're living your life, I'm not gone. So I need you to live again, I know what you and Gally have is special, don't let it fade away. Thank you for showing me how to live. Goodbye my love Newt x

GALLY'S POV

I made my way to the med hut, grumbling as I remembered Minho and Frypan shoving me out despite my protests, while Thomas blocked the entrance.

FLASHBACK

"I need to be there when she wakes up!"I struggled against them.

"Gally, you smell worse than a sewer. She's going to faint when she smells you, especially if you're sitting right next to her"Minho groaned as he pulled me further away from the hut.

"You need a shower man!"I ripped my arm out of their grasp as Frypan panted.

"I'll shower when I know she's okay!"I ran back to Thomas"Out of my way Thomas"

"No Gally. This is for your own good"He tackled me, knocking me over"She'll be fine for a couple of minutes while you shower and eat"I stopped struggling as I fell back against the sand, weak and exhausted.

"She was shot right in front of me, how can I leave her alone anymore?"I said, staring up at the sky.

"She's not alone, Gally. We're finally safe"Minho helped me sit up."And besides, _______ doesn't need protection, she needs common sense not to dive head first into danger"I chuckled at this and stood up.

"Fine. I'll shower but I'm eating here"They nodded in agreement and I glanced back to the hut as we walked away"She's going to be okay"

FLASHBACK

I pushed past the veil and my heart dropped when I saw the empty bed. I turned around, sprinting to where Thomas was standing, staring out onto the sea.

"She's gone!"I grabbed him by the shoulders, my words coming out jumbled due to my panic"I looked in the hut and she-she is just gone. Thom-"

"Gally! Breathe!"He pushed me off him"_______ is fine. She woke up while you were resting. She's right over there"He pointed to a small ridge overlooking the sea where a figure was seated.

"Right okay"I calmed down, breathing deeply"Thanks"I waved him away as I made my way to the ridge. As I approached, I felt a sense of deja vu when I saw her shoulders shaking as she stared at the horizon. Just like before, I felt I should walk away but she turned to me before I could.

"Gally"Her voice was hoarse and her normally bright _____ eyes were dull and rimmed red.

"Hey _______"I awkwardly sat down next to her while she wiped away her tears. I noticed the tubular pendant around her neck and the tear stained letter in her hands, with Newt's distinct handwriting. I looked away, unsure what to say"How are you feeling?"

"Physically? Fine"She answered"Mentally? Like shit"She scoffed"How have you been? I heard you wouldn't leave me alone"She looked at me with soft smile.

"Yeah, well it was my fault you got hurt"I muttered, my cheeks turning red"I should have seen that bullet coming"

"Gally, no"She sat closer to me, shaking her head"It was my stupidity that got me hurt and you know what"She looked down, slowly interlocking her fingers with mine before looking back at me"I would take a bullet for you every day of my life"

"What about Newt?"I found myself blurting and I wanted to punch my brain as her eyes flashed with pain while she removed her hand from mine"It's just I know he had feelings for you and you clearly felt something back"I rambled.

"And you know this how?"She asked me, her gaze intense.

"Oh come off it _______"I scoffed"You weren't exactly hiding it, what with the constant hand holding and lovesick glances"My fists curling while I spat this out"I've known from the start that you weren't really mine to love. I shouldn't have come back, I should have died-"I was cut off when she kissed me suddenly, pulling away before I fully registered what happened.

"I forgot just how dim you can be"She gasped, holding onto my shirt"Gally, hear me out and don't interrupt alright?"I nodded, still speechless"Yes, I cared for Newt more differently than I cared for the others and yes maybe if you hadn't come back, something might have happened between us"I opened my mouth but she held up her finger"But I also know that seeing you again was the day my soul came alive once more. Newt knew this and because he loved me, he knew I would only be truly happy with you. You have and always will be the world for me. I love you Gally"She finished softly.

"I'm sorry for all the hurt I've put you through sweetheart"I cupped her face gently"I always hoped I would find you alive and we could start over again. That things could be different."

"Well, this is our chance, my love"She held her hand over mine, smiling"I don't ever want to be apart from you again Gally"

"I'll never let that happen _______. I promise"I smiled. We slowly leaned in and kissed properly. I felt my heart soar as I pulled her closer, savouring her natural taste of sweetness, a taste which couldn't be found anywhere else. After months without her, I was dying to have more but I pulled away with reluctance. Her eyes remained closed for a second before she opened them with slight confusion.

"Is something wrong?"She asked, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"Everything's fine"I run my thumb across her cheek"I just want to savour our time together"She blushed at that and slid her arms around my chest, crawling into my lap as we faced the sea.

"I like the sound of that"She smiled as I held her close, placing her head on my shoulder. I kissed her forehead and slipped my hand into hers.

"Our forever starts today"

THE END!

[ardentmuse]

Four Times Fred Weasley Proposed to You... And the One Time He Meant It (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Harry Potter - Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Summary: The title says it all. Just read it ;)

Wordcount: 4.7k (I’m trash)

Warnings: fluff, sex, cursing - basically my holy trinity, and AU where Fred lives (which is the only universe I live in) 

Masterlist

A/N: Toddle started daycare yesterday and I learned that I churn out about 1k worlds per hour if I don’t have a kid crawling on me. Today is also my wedding anniversary for fluff felt right. A request from anon! 

I.

The candles floating high under the vaulted ceiling are the only things that don’t shake with the uproar of cheers, especially from the seventh years, that accompany Dumbledore’s announcement of return of the Triwizard Tournament. Fred bumps elbows with his twin, whom he simply knows is already conspiring to rig this thing in their favor. Fame, glory, prize money – everything they need to set themselves up for success is being presented on a golden platter – or rather in a wooden goblet. But they don’t have the opportunity to conspire before the room falls hush at the gentle lowering of Dumbledore’s willowy arms.

“Please join me in welcoming the students of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic and their headmistress Madame Maxine,” Dumbledore’s voice bellows, but to Fred it is but a whisper. The doors to the Great Hall have already opened and towards the front of the group of impressively dressed students, their jackets pristinely fitted and their skirts flared in a way that hints so nicely at the shapely things that certainly reside beneath them. Fred’s baser brain, the part that, as a sixteen year old, gives power and life to many of his higher-level functions, completely takes over. His eyes roam the group, landing on a stunning creature, third from the left whose straightened back, bright smile, and flushed face from the chill of the castle night are enough to make his mouth grow dry and his palms sweat with anticipation. 

But then you begin your dance – if it could even be called a dance. You skip forward like an elegant ballerina, your neck tall and your chest out the way a swan might look upon the lesser creatures within its pond, elegant but superior. And Fred minds not one bit being the scum that lines your lakeside domain. With light steps you descend upon the Great Hall, down the path on which he sits. And as you grow closer, you open your hands, releasing blue mist and butterflies upon the crowd, like a siren singing a song to lure in the ships at sea. 

A few more pranced steps and you are standing right beside him. He watches with baited breath as your skirts flow and twist. You lean forward with special flourish, flicking your wrists and humming in unison with your cohort. Your fingers lightly brush against Fred’s cheek as he ebbs closer in rapture. 

“Marry me,” he whispers, which draws your eyes away from the front of the hall to meet the man sitting right beside you. A simple turn of his head has his lips gently brushing against your fingertips and the piercing of his cinnamon eyes catches your breath in your chest. You miss your next step, so beguiled by this handsome man before you, broad and freckled and just the teeniest bit unobtainable in the way that confidence seems to radiate off him. 

You bite your lips as you quickly make your leave, returning to the perfectly choreographed dance that seems to have enchanted more than just the eldest Weasley twin. 

George’s elbow lands squarely in the soft space below Fred’s ribs. 

“Oi, Freddie, what the hell was that?” George asks as the room rises in applause for their new guests.

George searches Fred’s face for answers. Across from him, both Angelina and Hermione seem to be brooding in equal measure. Ron is busy picking his jaw off the floor. But for Fred, all he could do is search the room for the figure whose shape is now buried deep in his mind and whose soft fingertips he can still feel upon his lips. 

He finds you taking your seat at the Ravenclaw table beside Roger Davies, who is all too eager to move his cloak and offer you water. Something primal rises in Fred, hot bile in his gut at the sight of Davies’ hand brushing against your wrist as you turn to speak with him. But as if feeling Fred’s presence, you flick up your gaze to lock with his and almost immediate you look away. But Fred is satisfied if the way you are biting your lip and hiding so delicately behind your hat is any indication that you might be feeling the exact same electric charge between you that he is.

“I don’t know, George. I really don’t know.” 

II.

The spring sun warms the courtyard as the visiting students say their goodbyes to Hogwarts and the witches and wizards that call it home. Fred and George sit on the stone wall of the archway, overlooking the chaos of tearful hugs and exchanged promises to write, respectful handshakes and gossipy giggles. 

“So much emotion for something so simple as a goodbye,” George says as he pulls at the leaves of the bush just starting to bud beside him, “Does everyone forget we have magic? Owls, portkeys, floo networks, and the works? It’s not goodbye forever, you know?” 

Fred’s eyes scan the courtyard until he finds the top of your head standing in a circle of Beauxbaton students who are wishing farewell to their Hufflepuff friends, offering elongated hugs and whispered words of comfort to those mourning the loss of Diggory. 

You pull away from a puffy-eyed girl, handing her a notecard, which Fred assumes has your address on it, and turn your eyes up on catch him staring at you. You blush – at least he thinks you do at this distance – and turn your attention back to the young Gryffindor who has just tapped you on the shoulder. Fred closes his eyes. 

“Well, George, sometimes even a goodbye for now can be more than you’re willing to accept.” 

George looks to see Fred’s eyes still closed, his head lulled to the side in a look that can only be described as painful longing. 

“Speaking in general or personal there, dear brother? A certain French girl I caught you snogging have anything to do with—“ 

“George,” you say, interrupting their hushed conversation. George smiles almost too wickedly at your appearance. “And Fred,” you say, turning your eyes to the boy who has consumed so many of your thoughts these past few months. 

At hearing your voice, Fred’s head pops up from its angst-filled recline against the stone castle wall. The wide saucers take you in like a man dying of thirst. 

You clear your throat and move your head to take in both twins. “I just want to say that I will miss you and your laughter. You have both made my time here at Hogwarts a pleasant one.” Your smile seems forced, but Fred cannot tell why. 

“And it has been a pleasure getting to know you as well, my dearest mademoiselle,” George says in his best accent, swallowing the first “e” the way you taught him to do so precisely. “Quite the pleasure for one of us, I might say.” 

Fred turns near crimson at his brother’s coaxing and your own eyes find rest starring down at your lap. 

“Well, yes,” you stammer, knowing full well this was George’s intention but not being skilled enough to overcome its impact, “For me, too.” 

You feel a hand come under your chin, and your eyes come up to meet the very bright, but very pleased face of Fred Weasley. 

“You are a pleasure,” he says for just your ears, his thumb running across your chin as your face grows hot at his attentions. 

“You know, I’m not sure I want to go home,” you admit, looking up at the cute boy before you from under your lashes. His Adam’s Apple bobs at your minor seduction. “I have quite come to like your country.” 

“I could marry you,” he says as his hand finds the curve of your neck, “Then they couldn’t take you away. I hear Ministry visas are quite a valuable commodity these days.” 

You laugh, deep and hearty, the kind of laugh you have come to know so often as your friendship has blossomed with the twins. 

You hand a card to Fred, not a tiny index card like the kind he watch you hand your other friends, but a proper greeting card, with a beautiful calligraphed, “My Fred,” on the envelope. 

“Maybe you can write me sometime, if you want? I’d love to know how the business comes along.” 

Fred’s fingers trace the curves and bends of the ‘my’ so thoughtfully placed before his name. 

When Fred says nothing, his eyes so drawn to the paper, George pipes up with an, “Of course, love. We’ll be sure to.”

“Okay,” you whisper, but Fred’s attention is still elsewhere. With a swallow, you say, “Bye, then,” and with a tiny wave, returned by George alone, you turn on your heels and head for your carriage. 

George stares down at his brother, whose fingers have already gone to rip at the letter, to see its contents and pray that its words align with the flutter he feels in his chest right now. 

Opening the envelope releases a frill of blue dust and butterflies, scented like your shampoo, which he is ashamed to say he knows now. An index card with an address, just like the ones you gave the others sits inside, along with a note, long and eloquent about how you’ve enjoyed the time you’ve shared together, the laughter and the kisses, too, but it is the last two lines that gets him right in his throat, his heart beating faster than he can ever remember it doing before. 

“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known, Fred Weasley, and I pray one day when I know love, it will be with someone who makes me smile, makes me think, and makes me feel as beautiful as you have in these few short months. Who knows, maybe that someone will even be you.”  

Finally, Fred hears George screaming his name, the tone of which makes it clear to him this was not the first yell. 

“What!” Fred finally screams back, his hands gripping tightly on the parchment he holds.

“You didn’t even say bye to her, mate.���

Fred whips around to see a line of soft blue suits taking the stairs into their Abraxan-drawn carriages, the boys of the school offering softly cupped hands to the girls as they ascend. Fred jumps the stone wall into the courtyard, not caring for the height of the fall and sprints through the crowds, pushing a few first year students in the process until his hand grabs yours just as you take your first steps away from Hogwarts. 

You spin around at the tug. When Fred sees your face, slightly obscured by your hat, his chest hurts at the sight of the tear lines that clearly flow down your cheeks. 

He pulls you to him quickly, catching you in his arms as you partially tumble down the stairs towards him. He kisses you before you can even recover, to the hoots and hollers of some of the younger students, which earns them the scolding of a surprisingly softhearted McGonagall. 

Fred’s lips are all pressure, as though movement might take you further away from him. He is locked in the moment, securing you to him and into his memory for as long as he may have you.

When he finally pulls away, he runs his hands along the sides of your face and your forehead, like memorizing every shape and detail.

“Goodbye, my Fred,” you say to him, you eyes still saddened, still hurt but the parting, but all the more healed for the confirmation that this is hurting Fred too.

“Goodbye for now, my princess.” 

And so you walk away, your hands lingering together as Fred does his best to help you up the stairs and into your carriage, his precious swan princess preparing for her journey home. 

A few minutes later, Fred returns to his brother, who still sits on the stone but is now holding the envelope and letter that Fred discarded in his pursuit of you. George offers a slow clap of appreciation at Fred’s grand gesture.

“Georgie, how much money do you think we have for the summer? Enough to restock and still have extra?” 

“Why are you asking?” George hands the precious parchment over to Fred for safe keeping.

Fred just stares down into his hands, at your words and your script and the remains of your magic and your scent. 

“I think I have to go to France.” 

III.

“You keep cooking like this and I’ll have to make a kept woman out of you, you know,” Fred teases as he grabs yet another of the Christmas cookies you have just pulled from the cooling racks. You swat his hand away but not quickly enough to stop him from adding another handful to the collection already lining his plate and pockets. “Trying to impress my mother with baked goods is a very good idea but completely unnecessary. She’s going to love you. She already loves you for how happy you make me.” 

“Are you sure?” you ask as you continue to turn over the cookies, packing the ones with the best looking bottoms into festive tin to take with you to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Fred’s hand grabs as your wrist as you nervously rearrange the cookies ones more, “I’m absolutely certain.” 

A few moments pass as Fred hums happily, crunching down one cookie after another before you speak up once more. “A kept woman, ye? I hope I might be more to you someday than just someone to fulfill your desires.” 

Fred’s mouth curls into a Cheshire grin as drops his plate once more against the countertop. “And what’s so wrong with fulfilling my desires? Hmmm?” 

You can’t help but smile too as you toss your oven mitts aside. 

“Nothing,” you hum absentmindedly, leaning into Fred’s game. “Other than that I have desires of my own.” 

Fred creeps around the counter, taking in your form as the aprons strings hug tightly at your waist. In one deft motion, Fred has you pinned so fiercely against the counter you worry he might actually take a bit of you instead of the desserts you have spent all morning making. 

“Well,” he whispers into the soft of your ears, sending shivers down your spin, “Make me a kept man and we can live a life filled with unending pleasures.” And with the purr of the last word, he dives down to taste the salted hollow of your neck. 

“Two kept people is just a marriage,” you manage to get out before the sweet suction upon you pulse makes you lose your breath and, with it, your composure. 

“Then married we shall be.” His lips tickle against your collarbone before making the ascent back up your neck towards your chin. “Married, happy, fat off cookies,” he says between kisses. “And drunk off desire,” he whispers, leaving a final, long, bruising kiss upon your lips. 

You are pulled from your daze by the call of George’s voice in the shop below the apartment, telling you his mother would be quite disappointed if you found yourself running late for Christmas dinner because you were too busy making her grandbabies. 

As he pulls away, Fred runs a fingertip, slow, across your bottom lip, feeling the swell his kisses put there. 

“I’m keeping you,” he says to your lips before meeting your eyes. For a moment, his look is deep with longing, but quickly he smiles and the mask of play returns to his bright features as he snatches the packaged cookies off the counter and pulls you out of the room to meet up with his twin. 

IV.

“That’s it, love,” Fred breathes into your hair as you tighten the grip of your thighs around his hips. The sweat from his brow rolls down your neck sending shivers across your already prickled skin. Fred’s arms grip at your hips, desperate and needy. You can’t help but admire the taut muscles of his shoulders, round and firm in exertion. Even now, long after all the quidditch training and regular exercise, the lines of him are still subtle perfection. 

A bite at your ear pulls your eyes away. And the rocking of his firm length deep inside you pulls your mind away, too. 

On instinct, you roll your hips to meet his needy thrusts, finding a rhythm so right that you each let out a satisfied groan. You grip tight into the shoulders you love so much, digging your chin into his neck as you work yourself against him, pulling your pleasure from him as much as he is from you.

“Merlin,” Fred breathes as he seizes your chin so he may look in your eyes. He pins your hips once more with his rough hand, pounding into you long and slow.  “You’re perfect,” he says before kissing you deeply, the action pressing your entire personage further into the mattress, all parts of him consuming you wholly.

As his hand moves from your hipbone to brush against your sex, you feel the tightening that Fred so easily can pull from you, the sweet anticipation of a cascade of relief that marks your lovemaking as something necessary. His fingers deftly work you in time with his hips and soon you are falling off that cliff with only his strong arms to catch you. 

Fred groans at the feel of your orgasm, finding his own in the sweet music your body plays for him. And as he releases himself in your depths, your body quakes once more with the pleasurable feel of it. 

Exhausted and spent, Fred lays himself upon you, chest to chest, the weight of him a welcome reminder of the real world to which your brain has just returned. 

“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” Fred says into the darkness of your bedroom.

You laugh – or at least as much as you can with his weight bearing down upon your chest. You take in his nose now resting against your shoulder, the soft freckles decorating the bridge, the pink of the creases now coated in a pleasant sheen of sweat. He pops up his eyes to meet yours in unspoken question.

“The feeling’s mutual,” you smile. You run your hands through his hair, hoping to ease the worry you feel from him. 

Fred rolls off of you to lie on his side, mischief dancing in his eyes. 

“You also can’t wait to make me your wife?”

You turn to see Fred lounging casually upon the mattress, his nudity fully on display as he shows off his body for you with a flourish. 

“Can you not resist these womanly curves?” He almost can’t keep the smile off his face. 

You lunge towards him, but he’s quicker. He hops off the bed and runs down the hallway before you can even extract yourself from the covers. The last thing you see is that cute, firm butt of his round the corner towards the kitchen. 

“Shall your wife bring you tea?” He calls in a mocking high-pitched voice from the depths of your home. You toss a pillow at the door, and as it plops, Fred laughs. 

And just as you feel the glow of your orgasm begin to subside, Fred walks through the door with two steaming cups. He sets them down on the bedside table before kneeling before you. Only then do you notice the silliness is gone from his face, replaced with the hint of nerves and raw emotion you saw only a hint of in your afterglow.

“I’m not joking, you know,” he says as he grabs at your knuckles, “I’d like to marry you someday, make this beautiful, precious thing we have permanent, assuming you want that too.” 

And with a look into those beautiful brown orbs of his, you nod. 

V.

You cling tightly to Fred’s back as his broom zooms between the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees. The castle in which you spent your formative years seems but a speck off in the distance as you direct Fred along a saddle of the range and towards the cliff face just beyond.

“There,” you point towards the gap in the trees on the north face. The rush of the wind as Fred speeds downward makes it hard to hear the beautiful crash of water you associate so much with this place. But as the trees thin, you see it – the gorgeous waterfall and crisp blue-green pools that catch its spray. 

Fred slows down his flying, weaving expertly through the forest until you come to rest upon the boulders that face the torrent of water. 

“This is it. This is where us Beauxbaton girls came for peaceful retreats. Made quite a few friends among the wood nymphs, too.” 

Fred turns to you, confused. “You find this relaxing?” He screams over the loud crash of water. 


“Trust me?” You ask as you take his hand and lead him down the winding paths deeper into the forest. He grips your fingers tightly as his boots dig into the mud you seem to navigate with an elegance that reminds him so much of how you floated into the Great Hall of Hogwarts all those years ago. 

When you finally let go of his hand, you are in a clearing covered in a canopy of trees. Steam fills the space as three pools, one flowing into the next, radiate heat outward. The water is an inviting shade of aquamarine and the stones underneath seem to glisten silver, the cleavage of them lined with some rare elements that Fred can only assume are as precious as the creature standing beside him. Your face glows with memory, like a child on Christmas filled with the possibilities of unopened boxes and mysterious smells from the oven. 

“I told you it’s beautiful,” you say, turning to the man you love, the man you are so excited to show the parts of your life he had been absent from so that he can become one with all of you. What you see when you find him again makes it clear he wants the same thing.

Fred is bent on one knee, his soft woolen jacket open revealing a pocket you hadn’t seen, and in his hands sits a beautiful ring box holding a delicate band and a single, shining diamond, even brighter for the way the blues of your hot springs cast off of it. 

“You did,” he says, his voice deeper than you are used to, like a lump somehow is already forming in his throat. But that isn’t too hard to believe, as tears are prickling at your eyes, ready to roll over before he has even spoken. The sight of this man, his handsome chiseled face and his soft, kind eyes looking so weak, so wrought with emotion, and all for you, is enough to send you into hysterics. He is perfect – your silly, brave, industrious, kind, honest, perfect Fred. And here he is, telling you without words that you are perfect, too. 

“Do you remember my first words to you?” He asks with a lift of the left corner of his lips.

“Marry me,” you whisper with a hiccup, now full-blown crying at the memory of how his lips somehow felt so right against your fingers, even though you didn’t even know his name.

“Marry me,” he breathes more to himself than you, chuckling at his own teenage silliness. He shakes his head and looks at the ground. But upon catching the glow of the ring, his eyes return to your face. “I’d like an answer now,” he says. His hand somehow instinctively finds your fingertips, the source of all the kinetic energy between you, the spark that opened the doors to a lifetime of happiness. 

You try your best to find your breath between your tears. “Yes,” you say, though you are unsure if you actually made any sound given the heaving of your chest. “Yes.” 

Fred hops into the air, his lips finding yours and his arms engulfing your body in his embrace. He showers you with kisses, your tears mingling together, no different from the moisture of the steam coating your skin.

“I love you so much,” you manage to say as you smile against his mouth.

“I love you—fuck,” Fred pulls himself from you and drops to the ground. The ring box is discarded several feet from you, dropped quickly in Fred’s desire to shower you in affection. The ring still sits inside, pretty and intact but dusted with dirt. Fred frantically wipes the ring against his coat before grabbing at your hand.

“May I?” He asks. You nod enthusiastically, enjoying the feel of the cold metal running over your knuckles, chilling your heated skin.

As Fred stares in awe at the new jewel that gilds your hand, you slowly back away from him. With a careful flick of the buttons, you drop your coat to the ground. Fred’s gaze moves to your neck where your hands now continue their slow turn and flick, opening the buttons of your blouse in the most enticing strip tease he could imagine. 

“What are you doing, woman?” He whispers, though he takes no steps to approach your still retreating form, now just inches from the edge of the water. 

“What do you think I was planning for us to do here?” You ask him. Your hands slide down the curves of your now-exposed sides, bunching the fabric of your hips. “It’s a hot spring.” You wiggle your hips just a little as you push the fabric over your rump and down your thighs. “What do you think we Beauxbaton girls did here? Painted our nails and doodled in our notebooks?” As you lift your ankles, leaving yourself completely bare – bare expect for the gorgeous ring your fiancé just placed upon your hand – you stride with slow, confident steps towards him, a swan returned to her pond, a siren seducing her sailor. 

“Do not make me picture you and a handful of beautiful French girls bathing here naked together. My heart can’t take it.” 

You now find yourself inches away from your fiancé, his eyes trying their hardest to stay trained on your face but failing miserably with each breath that lifts your chest just a little closer to his face. 

“Your heart can take plenty of things,” you moan into his ear, your entire body just an inch from touching his. “It’s taken me, hasn’t it?” 

And just as his hands comes to ghost the curve of your lower back, you flee him, jumping into the largest of the pools with a satisfying splash. 

As you come up and turn to him with your hair slicked back out of your face, Fred is already half naked, his clothing thrown haphazardly across the clearing and his belt buckle proving much more difficult than he ever imagined it would. 

“Damn it, Princess,” he says with a huff and he yanks at his jeans, “You have no idea what’s in store for you.” He flicks his eyes to you as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing the beautiful expanse of strong stomach and chest that somehow never fail to take your breath away. His eyes glint with a hint of evil and a heap of lust and you are almost ashamed at how quickly your body responds to it, his gaze heating your whole self even more than the springs already have. 

“I think I know,” you say as Fred lowers himself into the waters. 

He paddles over to you and wraps your nude form in his arms. His lips find your hands and delicately play with them, his fingers running over the smooth metal as his lips move up to your wrist. You drop your head back against the smooth rocks and allow this man you love, this man who has enchanted you for the first connection, to love your body in turn. 

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech,

[bloomvalyria]

I received a request for some sparxshipping, so I thought I’d give you some super old sparxshipping content! Since I’ve been getting so many questions about the whole “where did baltor go at the end of broken pieces?” debacle, I thought I’d share the idea I’d originally settled on back in 2016/2017 before scrapping it. It was a good idea in theory, but the deeper I explored it, everything very quickly fell apart. Nonetheless, please enjoy this scrapped rough draft material!

The room was oddly reminiscent of his pocket realm, slightly easing my tense muscles. It was enormous with a towering ceiling and tall walls lined with grand wooden bookcases. Dust coated the furniture and lightly lilted through the air. A great window overlooking the surrounding woods was perched on the other side of the room. The clear glass allowed an ample amount of moonlight to pour onto the hardwood floors. My gaze however was locked on a different light source flickering in my peripheral vision.

My Dragon Fire flared when I turned to look at the bright orange glow. Despite my distance, I could feel the intensity of the flames dancing in the fireplace. Its warmth combined with the pale moonlight gave the room an eerie yet annoyingly romantic vibe. Two stiff-looking arm chairs loomed before the fire, creating elongated shadows that stretched across the floor.

Easily able to sense the dark presence awaiting my arrival in the seat furthest away, I froze. My feet refused to take another step, petrified at the thought of approaching my host.

You can still turn back, my subconscious hastily whispered. He betrayed you. He lied to you. You owe him nothing.

That last statement prickled me. In spite of everything that had unfortunately transpired between the two of us, I owed everything to him. Without him, I never would have found Oritel and Miriam, nor would I have been able to revive Sparx. Even after our fight on Linphea, he’d still helped me achieve the one thing I’d wanted since discovering who I truly was. I may not have wanted to, but I owed it to him to at least hear him out.

Taking a silent, steadying breath I continued my approach to the ominous chair.

“No one would blame you.”

I nearly lost my footing as a familiar, deep voice echoed through the air. Coming to a halt, I felt the strength of the dark presence grow, fully announcing himself. A shadowy figure of a man lifted itself out of the furthest chair, startling me. He was shrouded in darkness until he stepped closer to the fireplace.

Baltor’s sharp features appeared more prominent in the harsh light of the flames. His piercing grey eyes stared deeply into the burning embers, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if it was on purpose. It was an odd sight to see him without his signature coat. Then again, his entire ensemble was much more relaxed than I was used to seeing. His normally regal attire was replaced with a simple pair of dark trousers and boots, along with a half-buttoned up, white-collared shirt. I had to mentally chide myself in order to stop staring.

“To be frank, I half-expected you not to come.” Baltor continued. He moved his arm up to rest against the mantle, attempting to look nonchalant.

I glowered at him. “I don’t remember inviting you to snoop through my thoughts.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. I hated that it nearly made me swoon. “I don’t need to use our connection to read your thoughts, Bloom. You remember what I told you about your eyes.”

An annoyed frown instantly crossed my face as I fought the shiver that arose from hearing him say my name. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, my fingernails dug into my palms. Resisting the urge to throw a punch at him, I decided saying nothing was my only good option. I considered testing my luck, but the dull throbbing that had suddenly emerged in the back of my skull greatly discouraged it.

“I’m more than aware that I’m the last person you want to speak with.” he said, redirecting the conversation. “All I ask is that we sit down and discuss this.”

“I’m not sure what else needs to be discussed.” I replied, deadpan. The darkness took over much quicker than I’d anticipated. “You knowingly faked your own death. You didn’t contact me at all for months to let me know that you were really alive. Then, you magically reappeared wanting to pretend everything was okay. And, when I asked you why you waited so long to find me, you fed me nothing but a string of bullshit lies.” I paused, dramatically. “I don’t believe I missed anything.”

My response was enough to finally pull Baltor’s gaze away from the fire. The concern pooling in his eyes made my stomach twist with butterflies. However, the darkness worming its way deeper into my brain fought viciously to counteract it.

“Bloom,” he said, calmly, “I understand that you’re angry with me. You have every right to be.” To my amazement, he took a daring step in my direction. “But I know that’s not you.”

The throbbing slowly began to subside, to my shock. I wasn’t sure what made it retreat, but I wasn’t going to complain. Regardless of how truthful my outburst was, the guilt that followed was immense.

“Sorry,” I uttered. “It’s been a bit out of control lately, what with the move back here.”

He nodded. “Understandable. This is your home, and you want it to feel like your home. Living on Sparx is certainly going to be an adjustment for you.”

“An adjustment is one way to word it.” I mumbled, quickly growing exhausted. Running a hand through my tousled hair, I slumped into the seat next to the one he’d previously occupied. The leather fabric wasn’t particularly comfortable, but I needed a place to sit down. Baltor followed suit.

For a while, we merely sat there, glancing at each other. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. All of the snarky, clever remarks I’d conjured up in my head had vanished. Every emotion I’d felt over the last year was a swirling melting pot in my chest. I had a million questions for him. For so long I’d been deprived of the answers I so desperately desired, and now that my opportunity to receive them had finally arrived, I was speechless.

Baltor shifted forward in his chair, looking as if he was about to break the never-ending silence. My Dragon Fire sprung to life with adrenaline, warning me that I needed to speak before he did. My irrational fear of how well he could redirect a conversation was too strong.

“Where were you?” I blurted, cutting Baltor off.

A sad gleam sprouted in his eyes. Still, he didn’t answer. I could see the cogwheels turning in his mind, scrambling to muster up a convincing excuse to push my question off till another time.

“Where were you?” I asked again, fury dripping into my voice. My fingers dug into the leather of the arm chair, trying to still their shaking.

Baltor ran a hand down his face, immediately seeming more exhausted than before. Hearing the question aloud seemed to drain him. “Bloom, I know it’s not what you want to hear,” he began, hesitantly. “Nevertheless, I do believe that particular question is one we should wait on discussing.”

Steam poured from my ears. My cheeks burned red with pent up rage. “No!” I shouted, unable to contain myself. “We are not pushing this off anymore! I’m not asking you to do something outlandish, Baltor. I just want to know the truth!”

“I want to tell you, Bloom. Trust me, I do.” Baltor argued. “Considering how you almost crossed into dark territory only a few minutes ago, telling you would only be detrimental.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I could already begin to feel the pads of my fingertips rapidly heat up. “How would that be detrimental? That doesn’t make sense!”

“Bloom, I’m serious.” he warned. “You don’t need to know.”

“Oh, come on, Baltor! What is so difficult about being honest with me? Where could you have been that’s so bad that you’d have to lie to me about it?”

“The Under Realm.”

His interruption made my heart skip a beat. My rage instantly diffused, morphing into a state of shock.

The name sent a chill down my spine as it echoed through my head. Flashes of memories presented themselves front and center, reminding of my time spent there. As always, none of them were pleasant ones.

“What?”  

Baltor clearly didn’t want to continue the conversation; however we both knew I wasn’t just going to drop it after that revelation. “When I found out you were alive, I went to the Under Realm,” he affirmed, slowly dragging out his words.

The thoughts racing through my head were a jumbled, cluttered mess. I kept waiting for my instincts to kick in and react like they usually did. Yet, this time, the longer I sat there I only became more confused.

No logical reason for why he’d be in the Under Realm came to mind. I couldn’t think of any unfinished business he could possibly have there. Even if he did, that still didn’t explain why he’d suddenly decide to act on it when I was in recovery.

Maybe you’re overreacting, my hopeful conscience reasoned. He didn’t say which part of the Under Realm. He could’ve been in Downland for all you know.

I was doubtful. If he’d been in Downland, there was no reason for him to hide it from me. Baltor was well aware of my history with the Under Realm, and if he truly went there, he’d only avoid telling me about it if he went to one particular place. “You were in Shadow Haunt.”

A short sigh slipped past his lips, but no words followed.

White hot anger flashed in my chest. “Baltor, were you in Shadow Haunt?” I asked again, my fury slipping into my voice.

“Yes,” he said. “You broke my curse. I’d hoped to return the favor.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed as the complicated puzzle pieces began to finally make sense. “You went there to try and reverse the effects of Darkar’s curse?”

“It was a long shot,” he indirectly confirmed. “Shadow Haunt seemed the perfect place to, at the very least, begin to search for answers. Since that was where the curse originated, I figured there had to be some information lingering there; possibly somewhere in the wreckage of the palace.”

He suddenly went quiet, acting as if he was finished with his tale.  

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything?” I inferred, feeling a wave of disappointment.

Baltor shook his head. “I searched for days. I didn’t leave a single stone unturned in that damned place, but there wasn’t a single trace that remained.”

My heart sank in my chest. I knew better than to hope for good news, yet something in me still grabbed onto it. I so desperately wanted to be free of her that I couldn’t help but hope.

“Although, I was able to sense someone else’s magic.”

My gaze flew over to him. A mix of fear and hope twisted my insides. “Who else could be there? It was abandoned. The authorities searched every inch of it to make sure no one was hiding.”

“Well, as it turns out, they didn’t do a particularly thorough job.” He hesitated, looking as if he was debating his next words. “One of Darkar’s minions managed to survive the attack.”

The entire universe came to a halt. Bile rose in my throat.

“I believe you called him Avalon.”