#ive got another piece of them i did last night/this morning if anyone wants me to post that one too

[micamakescomics]

NICHE FANNART GO!!!!

My fiancé just finished GOT for the first time last night (at 4am with me)

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 5 - zuko x fem!reader

I can go anywhere I want, I can go anywhere just not home

part 4 | masterlist | part 6

a/n: this was hard to get going but once i got to the end the words just flowed. ive come to the conclusion that writing dialogue with katara is my favorite thing to do

warning(s): nightmare at the beginning, survivor's guilt from y/n, some internalized homophobia :-( but aside from that its mostly fluff

wc: 3.6k

chapter title comes from my tears ricochet by taylor swift!

She was trapped.

It was a prison of never ending hallways in some kind of infinite void, complete with the rank stench of death and an innate feeling of hopelessness.

Y/N knew this place. It had been the subject of her nightmares on countless occasions, because it was where she was supposed to be. She had no choice but to start down the pathway of cracked stone — she knew what awaited her, but it was the only way out. She had developed some sick sense of awareness in this nightmare and it didn’t do her any favors.

She began to walk hastily down the path, the itch of paranoia already plaguing the back of her mind. Countless times she had been here, and yet it never got better.

Before Y/N knew it, she had reached her unwanted destination. The first tangible thing in what felt like miles was a prison cell, and she pushed forward despite knowing what awaited her. It was the only way.

“It wasn’t the only way.”

She froze, inhaling sharply as the dreamscape seemed to pull her thoughts out of her mind, and she forced herself to take another step closer, the inhabitant of the cell now visible.

“You did this to me.”

It was her mother, but… not quite her. Her voice strained and stiff, a gaunt appearance with cruel eyes, hunched over in a prison cell. Any sign of the woman Y/N knew her as was gone, and it was her fault. She was the reason Kura was gone — a mother’s ultimate sacrifice because her daughter was too stuck in her head.

“How could you do this to me?” she asked. “How could you be so selfish?”

Y/N tried to respond, but she couldn’t. It was no use anyway — her words would’ve come out in broken, pleading rambles to someone who couldn’t hear a thing. She knew it was fake, she knew this was a nightmare, but it still hurt all the same.

She had imagined her mother saying those words to her so many times they had found their way into her nightmares despite knowing that Kura would never utter a single syllable true to her fears. She had all but killed her mother, and instead of remembering her for what she had done for Y/N, she appeared in her nightmares.

She was a horrible daughter.

She heard footsteps and whirled around, instinctively taking a step back and wincing as her back slammed into the bars. A tall, dark figure creeped towards her and her breath caught in her throat — as it came into the light, she recognized him as the Fire Lord.

He chuckled coldly as he neared ever closer, the path he walked turning to flames behind him. Her eyes darted around for an escape only to find that everything was on fire. It was suffocating, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and when she turned to look for her mother she was gone. Everything was gone, her dark void now a prison of flames.

She turned around once more and Ozai was right in front of her, the fire in his hands glowing red hot and a cruel smile on his lips.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

-

She shot up in her bed, a scream on the edge of her lips but just barely managing to hold it back. Ragged breaths were ripped from her chest, her eyes shooting around wildly as she attempted to find anything at all to ground her. It took a few minutes, but with repeated mantras of it was just a dream and you are safe, she was able to calm down.

She pulled her knees to her chest and exhaled long and deep before pulling herself out of bed. It seemed that her day was going to be starting much earlier than planned.

Four years had passed since her arrival at the Northern Water Tribe, but the nightmares never ceased. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had done the right thing, that it was what her mother wanted, that if she stayed she would’ve died — she was constantly haunted by her past actions and memories of the Fire Nation.

She hasn’t taken off the necklace since her mother gave it to her, no matter what she does. It’s almost become a part of her now — a memory of Kura and her selflessness that knew no bounds, as well as a grim reminder of what it cost to get her here.

The Northern Water Tribe itself held countless memories of her mother — after all, it was where she had spent the first eighteen years of her life. Her name was well known throughout the tribe with nobles and elders alike, and it amazed Y/N to no end the impact that her mother left everywhere she went. She loved hearing stories about her mother and what she was like as a child, but it was always bittersweet.

She always carried an inherent sense of guilt with her because of who she lived with — her mother hadn’t been lying when she said that the necklace would get them to help her. Kura’s parents still lived in the tribe, and they had taken Y/N in after she revealed who she was. They loved her unconditionally and never made her feel like a burden, but Y/N would be lying to herself if she didn’t think they blamed her for the fate that befell her mother.

After all, she did.

She had never told anyone the full story of why she ran though. It was one thing to leave her mother behind for certain death because of the Fire Lord’s rage, it was another thing to admit that it was wholly her fault because she had fallen for a prince.

Zuko.

Not a day went by where she didn’t think of him. She still held the hope that she would see him again someday, but in lieu of travel she turned to letters.

Y/N had a shelf full of unmailed letters addressed to both Zuko and her mother — it was a way to get out her emotions whenever she was feeling particularly homesick or hopeless, and it did help at first, but after four years it had become something born out of habit rather than necessity.

She still wrote them though — Y/N had learned to hold onto any form of hope she could muster up, no matter how small, and in this moment she needed some.

She opened her shelf and rifled through piles upon piles of letters, some finished, some hardly started, and some crumpled from fits of rage, and her breath caught in her throat when her fingers brushed something different. Y/N pulled the material out and nearly started crying right then and there.

It was an unbelievably simple patch of fabric, but it meant the world to her — something that she had bought during her last night with Zuko, and one of the only pieces of material to have survived her journey to the Northern Water Tribe. She was forced to sell the rest of the fabric she had brought with her in order to make some easy money while on the run, but she had kept this as a memento. She could almost be brought back to the final sunset they shared if she looked at it for long enough.

Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stop the tears and shoved it back into the drawer before closing it and leaving her room in a haste. Sometimes she wasn’t strong enough to handle the memories.

She made her way to the living room and let out a sigh of relief when she noticed the silence. Y/N had never told her grandparents about the nightmares, and right now she just needed some time to herself. Never before was she so thankful for her grandmother’s gossiping nature and her grandfather’s work than she was in the mornings where she just wanted to be alone.

She sat down on the floor, not even bothering to get a cushion, and stared at her hands. Once smooth and untouched by the world, they were now rough and calloused with wrapped bandages resting just below her wrist. Permanent memories of what it took to get here. The ever present reminder that nothing came without a cost.

This morning seemed to be one full of yearning for the past. Y/N tried to shake her feelings off and got up once more, contemplating some steamed sea prunes before deeming it fruitless. Her appetite was lacking after her trip down memory lane.

She walked back to her room and got dressed hastily then ran out the door, but not before plucking a gift from her shelf. Today marked the birthday of a certain princess, and Y/N had to go fast if she was going to get it to her before class.

She was immediately hit by the frigid air of the North, pulling her anorak tighter around her frame as she began to run to the canals — one could always find Princess Yue there in the mornings — doing her best to avoid anyone else walking.

Y/N saw Yue just about to board one of the boats and sped up, waving one of her arms as a signal. “Yue, wait!”

She turned and her face immediately brightened up at the sight of Y/N, raising her open palm so the boatman would hold up. “Y/N! Would you like to join me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

Yue’s nod prompted a shrug as she dropped down carefully into the gondola, taking extra care not to drop her gift, and took a seat next to her friend.

“This is a nice surprise,” Yue smiled as the boatman began to waterbend, effectively moving their gondola through the canal. “But if I might ask, what brought you here so early?”

Y/N laughed, thinking her reason for coming here obvious. “It’s your birthday, princess! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to wish you well in person?”

Her smile grew even brighter, the corners of her eyes creasing up in the way that made some kind of warmth blossom in Y/N’s chest. “Thank you! That’s so sweet — I’m especially honored that you woke up early just for me.”

“Of course.” Y/N brandished the gift she had been doing her best to hide, unable to do the same for her own smile. “And here’s your gift! I sewed it all myself.”

Yue gasped as she took the creation, giving it a slight squeeze and a thorough investigation before absolutely beaming. “You made me an otter penguin— oh, you know how much I love these!”

She wrapped Y/N in a tight hug before pulling away, but it was just long enough for the heat to rush to her cheeks. “Thank you so much, really. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Y/N beamed at the praise and nodded, shifting a little in her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m glad you like it so much.”

The two girls grinned at each other then turned their gaze to the horizon, content to spend the rest of the ride together in comfortable silence.

Her friendship with the princess of the Northern Water Tribe was something that Y/N cherished with all her heart. She could confidently say that Princess Yue was her best friend, and she hoped it was a notion that Yue shared. As beautiful as she was kind, the princess always had a way of making her feel better on the hardest days — Yue was the only one who knew the whole truth of what happened in the Fire Nation, and she offered nothing but sympathy.

Y/N honestly didn’t know what she would do without Yue. She had been her rock during the whole process of getting situated in the tribe, always lending a helping hand when she stumbled in class or was completely oblivious to something in their culture, and she never made her feel stupid, or unwanted, or less-than for what she had come from.

The only thing that confused her about Yue was the feeling she got whenever Y/N was around her. The rushes of heat to her cheeks, the warmth blossoming in her chest, and the unusual happiness she felt anytime Yue smiled at her. The most peculiar of it all was the strange tug of jealousy any time a noble boy tried to flirt with the princess, and nothing but disinterest whenever they tried an angle on her instead.

She didn’t know what any of it meant, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it was wrong. So Y/N did the only thing she could and suppressed it.

Soon enough, though much to their chagrin, Y/N had to leave. After some exchanged hugs and one last wish of happy birthday, Y/N took off for her morning healing class. But as she hurried down the icy paths, she caught sight of the most peculiar thing.

A giant flying bison was being led through the canals with a team of waterbenders, three kids that couldn’t be any older than her on its back. One had an arrow on his head and sported orange and yellow robes, while the other two looked to be of Water Tribe descent.

Her interest was irrefutably piqued, but she didn’t have any more time to waste with gawking. So she began to run once again, apologies spilling from her lips as she maneuvered through the groups of people all just as awestruck by the strange arrival as she was. Y/N made a mental note to ask Yue about it later, but for now she was running very late to her healing class.

-

Sure enough, a few hours later, Y/N was able to get the answers she had been craving. She met up with Yue outside of the palace, and during a short walk, she learned that the boy was the Avatar. He had come to the Northern Water Tribe to master waterbending, and the two kids with him were his companions from the Southern Tribe — much to her excitement, the girl was a waterbender.

Needless to say, Y/N was even more enthusiastic than before, and Yue made her day by confirming that they would be coming to her birthday celebration that night as honored guests. She had already talked to her father about allowing Y/N to sit with her and he had said yes, which meant that she would get to meet him and his friends in person — it just served as a reminder that Y/N had no idea what she would do without Yue.

After what felt like hours of passing the time with lost games of Pai Sho against her grandfather and failed attempts at finishing her homework, it was finally time for the banquet. Once she arrived at the front of the palace she bid goodbye to her grandparents and went to find the seat that Yue had secured for her.

She settled down in the empty spot next to what she assumed was Yue’s — it was her birthday after all, so a dramatic entrance wasn’t out of the question — and nervously glanced at the three visitors, trying to figure out how to introduce herself.

Thankfully, she was saved when the girl met her eyes and waved, offering a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Katara; this is my brother Sokka, and that’s Aang.” She gestured in their direction with her head when she said their names and they both smiled and gave her polite nods.

She returned the sentiment gratefully. “I’m Y/N— I’m one of Princess Yue’s friends. Welcome to the Northern Water Tribe!”

“Thanks!” Aang said. “We’re here to find a master so Katara and I can master waterbending.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Master Pakku is one of the best there is, and even though he’s a total jerk, he’ll be able to teach you everything you need to know. And Katara, we have some amazing healing teachers— I can bring you along to my class tomorrow if you’re interested!”

Katara’s eyes lit up. “You’re a waterbender too?” When Y/N nodded, her smile grew even bigger, though slightly wistful.

“I’d really appreciate that,” she admitted, though her brows knit together. “But I’d like to learn from Master Pakku as well.”

Y/N frowned, about to correct her, when the distinct sound of drums began to echo throughout the hall. Her displeasure immediately disappeared as she grinned at them all excitedly, gesturing with her head towards the action.

Chief Arnook stood up from his spot and their table, his low voice booming. “Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe. And they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now… the Avatar!”

Y/N’s own applause joined a symphony of others clapping and cheering as Aang waved bashfully, and once it died down, Arnook continued. “We also celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!”

She grinned as Yue walked out alongside her attendants — she would never get used to her beauty. Y/N noticed the way that Sokka’s eyes widened as he stared at her, and her stomach twisted at the act for some unknown reason.

“Thank you, Father,” she said. “May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times!”

Arnook smiled at his daughter and directed his attention back to his people. “Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform!”

She could tell that Katara and Aang were enraptured by the bending, while Sokka’s attention was already on Yue as she walked over to sit between Sokka and Y/N.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Yue exclaimed, greeting her friend with a short embrace.

Y/N gave her a sideways smile. “If you think that I would miss your birthday and a banquet, then I’m afraid you’re out of practice on Y/N trivia.”

The princess laughed and nodded amiably then turned her attention to Sokka, ever the diplomat.

“Hi there,” he grinned. “Sokka, Southern Water Tribe.”

Yue returned the sentiment and gave him a slight bow. “Very nice to meet you.”

As their conversation went on, Y/N found herself tuning out a bit. For whatever reason, she had to actively stop herself from rolling her eyes at Sokka’s flirting, that same feeling in her stomach coming back. She made a mental note to see a healer about her issues.

“Hey, Y/N!” She snapped out of her self-imposed trance at the sound of Katara calling her name as she gestured for her to come over. It looked like Aang had gotten up to converse with Master Pakku and Chief Arnook, so she took the invitation and switched seats.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be here,” Katara said once Y/N had settled next to her. “Back home, I’m the only waterbender. Here… it’s like paradise. It almost feels too good to be true. I mean, even seeing you is crazy — I’ve never met a waterbender my age.”

Y/N smiled, though not without a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for you to be able to experience this. How are you the only bender left down there?”

Katara was silent for a moment, a flurry of emotions warring on her face, before she answered. “The Southern Tribe hasn’t fared half as well as the Northern Tribe during the war. We don’t have one big, huge capital like this, we’re all split up into small villages. The Fire Nation has just been relentless with their raids, and without support from the North and a lack of communication between our sister tribes in the South, they were able to wipe us all out. Except for me.”

“Spirits, Katara…” Y/N set an amiable hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that her softened expression could say what her words couldn’t. “My village was invaded when I was young, too. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

She nodded pensively but managed to meet her eyes with an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your village as well.” Her gaze drifted off, once again taking in the view around them, and when Katara met her eyes again she seemed better. “But we’re here now, and I’m planning to take advantage of everything I can, starting with all this food. Which one of these is your favorite?”

Y/N grinned as Katara pointed at the platter of various dishes in front of them. “Oh, you’ve got to try this. See that giant crab up there? That’s what this is, and you have not lived until you have tried Northern crab.”

Conversation flowed just as easily through the rest of the night between the two girls, occasionally switching to include Sokka and Yue and eventually Aang once he returned. Between the swells of pride whenever they laughed at her jokes, getting to learn about all three of them, and the almost palpable euphoria in the air, Y/N was sure of one thing:

This was the happiest she had felt in a long time. She could only hope it would last.

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895

atla: @marianne1806

[hangovercurse]

Nothing

Part i of the Without You series: When Colson and Megan break up, the boys count on Y/N to piece Colson back together, which only leads to disaster.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Colson being kind of a dick, cursing, a little bit of aggression/ violence. This one’s definitely angsty.

A/N: This was supposed to be just a one part fic. Then that turned into 2 parts. And then 3. And then all of a sudden I had written 5 parts and over 10,000 words. Enjoy 😊 (also this is v unedited so if you see a mistake... mind ya business)

Word Count: 2084

| ii | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

When you got the text from Rook, you knew it was probably gonna be bad. 

Megan just left him, for good. Not gonna be pretty the next few days so maybe don’t come by anytime soon. 

Your heart broke for your best friend. Colson had been really in love with Megan. And as much as you hated seeing them together for your own personal reasons, you could tell he was really happy. 

Ok. Let me know if you guys need me. If it gets bad I can take Casie for a few days. Take care of him for me pls. 

You and Colson had been friends for years now. You knew almost everything about each other, you told him everything. He let you crash at his place after your ex kicked you out, and you had spent many hours curled up with him, watching stupid movies to distract him from his most recent breakup or mental breakdown. 

But this was different. Colson told you he wanted to marry her at some point, and you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn’t blame him. As much as you hated no longer being the only women (other than Casie) in his life, you couldn’t dislike Megan. She was just one of those people who everyone loved. 

The thought of texting Colson crossed your mind, but you weren’t sure if it would hurt or help. From the sound of it, he was a wreck.

So, naturally, you texted Pete. 

Have you talked to Cols yet?

With Colson came Pete, or came you, you weren’t really sure. Somewhere along the way you and Pete had become close friends. He was like the older brother you’d never asked for, and he would probably say something similar about you. 

You couldn’t really explain it, Pete could read you like a book. And because of that, he knew everything. He was the only one to catch on to the way you sometimes looked at Colson for too long, or got irritated when he’d bring a new girl around. 

I’m heading over there right now. You should talk to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Not sure that’s the best idea. You guys are better at handling... all that. Once he gets a little less angry then I’ll take him. 

Pete texted you back a few minutes later.

Thanks for the support, kid. I’ll keep you updated. Just pulled in.

Good luck, Petey.

You tossed your phone on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. You decided worrying was a problem for another day.

No more than 12 hours later you were getting a phone call from Rook. 

“Dude it’s like 4 in the morning, why are you calling me.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried everything. He’s locked up in his room and every time one of us tries to talk to him he blows up. Literally he almost punched Slim a few hours ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning at the predicament. “So now you want me to come over?” You asked, “What do you think I’m gonna be able to do?”

“Well he’s not gonna try and hit you for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s significantly nicer to you than to anyone else.”

“What do I even say to him? “Sorry that the love of your life broke up with you but at least we can smoke pot and watch Spongebob?” I mean come on, man. I’m not good at this.”

“Please.” He pleaded, “We’re all out of options and I can’t stand to see him get any worse than he is.”

You moved off your bed and towards your dresser. “Fine, I’ll be there in 15.” 

You threw on the first pair of sweatpants you could find and slipped on shoes, grabbing your key and heading out the door.

True to your word, you pulled up to the house 15 minutes later, parking on the side of the street and heading straight into the house. When the guys saw you, they visibly brightened up. 

“You guys are such fucking wimps.” You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the stairs. 

Baze chuckled, “We love you Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, stopping by Casie’s room to see if she was asleep. To your surprise, she wasn’t. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you whispered as you entered her room, “why are you still up?”

She smiled a little when she saw you. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m really worried about Dad.” 

You leaned on her doorframe, sending her a sad smile. “I am too. But he’ll be okay. Your dad’s pretty tough.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but he really liked Megan.”

“Did you?” You ask, trying to gauge her emotions. 

“I mean, I guess so. She was nice to me. Most of his girlfriends aren’t that nice to me.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty way to measure if you like someone or not.” She giggles at that. “Don’t tell your dad I said that word in front of you.”

“Ok. She was nice. And she made him happy so, yeah, I guess I liked her. Not as much as I like you but...” Casie’s voice got higher as she dragged out the last word and you just rolled your eyes with a chuckle. 

Casie had this fantasy of you and Colson getting married one day, but you always told her it would never happen. 

“Ok kiddo, whatever you say.” You teased her, “try and get some sleep, okay?” 

She nodded with a smile. “Are you gonna go talk to Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? If you need to come over and talk or stay the night or anything just call me, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” She said quietly. 

“Love you too, Case.”

You shut the door to her room, moving down the hallway to Colson’s door. You took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and knocked. 

“I told you guys to go the fuck away.” A muffled yet angry voice said from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Cols. Y/N.” You said, hoping he could hear you. 

When you got no response you asked, “Can I come in?” 

A few more seconds of silence followed, and then the lock clicked and the door opened. You stood face-to-face with your best friend. His hair was a mess, falling in his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, and the frown he wore made him look even more pathetic. You felt your heart breaking. 

As you met his eyes, you gave him a sad smile. “Hey Cols.” 

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. 

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him as he continued to hug you. One of his hands pushed the door shut and he sat on his bed, finally letting go of you. 

You looked down at him, grabbing his hand and holding it in your own. It was something you had done before, you two were very touchy people and so half of your friendship was just you two cuddling or play fighting or holding hands.

“So we can do one of three things,” you started, “We can talk about it, we can cuddle and watch something stupid and pretend nothing’s wrong, or we can get high and do something stupid.”

For the first time in what you would imagine to be all night, Colson smiled. it was a very small smile, but you took it. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes. “And by stupid you mean...”

You rolled your eyes, “I mean we can go set off bottle rockets in the backyard or try to jump off your roof and into the pool.” 

“Oh damn. I was hoping you were gonna say you would suck my dick.” 

Your eyes widened at his bluntness and the implication. You shoved his shoulder, “Colson! That’s gross!” You giggled, but his expression was unwaveringly serious. 

“I’m being serious.” He deadpanned and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Colson what the fuck?” Your mind was spinning trying to figure out if he was joking. 

You got your answer when he stood up, grabbing your waist and leaning over you. “I thought you’d want to...” 

You took in a breath at the sudden proximity, trying to back away from him but his grip remaining firmly on your waist. “Colson, stop. Please. This isn’t funny.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. He’s drunk, and sad, and doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“I thought you’d want to, cause it’ll make me happy. And you’ll do anything to make me happy.” One of his hands reached up and grabbed your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look away.

“Colson you’re being a fucking weirdo, let me go.” You raised your voice. Your heart was racing at this point and the thoughts flowing around your head were not pretty. 

You were always anxious for the day he’d figure you out. When he’d finally realize how you felt for him. But this was worse than anything you’d thought of. 

“You’ll do anything to make me happy because you love me, right?” 

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, wanting nothing more but to look away from his sinister expression. The way he was looking at you made it very clear that he was enjoying your discomfort, your embarrassment. 

“Colso-” 

He walked forwards, pushing you gently against the wall. His arms went to either side of you, his face inches from yours. You tried to look away, but his hand on your jaw forced you to face him.

Any other time you would have loved for Colson to pin you against his wall, but this was wrong. 

“Just say it. Say you’re in love with me, and I’ll drop it.” 

“Colson, what the fuck are you on right now?” You tried to steer the topic away from you, but he wouldn’t have it. 

“Say it.” 

You reached up to try and push his chest away from you, but he was much taller and stronger than you, so you did nothing. 

“Just tell me!” He yelled at your silence. A tear slipped down your cheek as you trembled under him. His face was red and his eyes were watering. 

 “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. This all felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Because I need to know if she was right.” His voice got a little quieter, but he still wouldn’t move away from you. “I need to know if the reason the love of my fucking life just left me is true.”

You were shaking, your breaths getting shorter. “What are you talking about.” Your words were choked. The grip on your jaw started to get a little too tight.

“I defended you!” He yelled, tears falling from his face. “She told me that you were in love with me and I defended you.”

“Colson you’re hurting me.” You whined, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp. He ignored your statement and continued talking, but his grip loosened slightly.

“And then she told me that she thinks I’m in love with you.” His voice was getting darker. “And that’s why she left. So I want to make it very clear to you.” He paused, leaning closer to your ear. “I will never love you. Ever. Not now, not in a million lifetimes. You mean nothing to me.”

Your vision was blurry from your tears, so you blindly reached out to push him away from you. His body seemed to have given up, as he moved backwards out of your way, stumbling slightly. Through your tears you could make out a smug smile on the man before you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

You ran down the stairs, the guys waiting for you to give them good news, but their hope turned to concern once they saw you. You walked straight past them towards the door, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking completely.

As you reached for the door handle you heard a faint yell from upstairs, followed by loud banging, and then silence. You sniffled, turning the handle and leaving the house, much to the protest of your friends.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Memories, Pt. IV

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks, torture

Word Count: 4878

a/n: The last part! I'm so sorry this took so long! I planned to have it done over the weekend, but life got in the way. Hopefully y'all like the ending though!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

3 Months Ago

"Come back to me, okay?" Bucky pressed his forehead to yours, relishing in this moment.

"I promise. I love you" You give him a quick kiss before moving back to board the quinjet. He calls out his response just as the doors begin to close.

"I love you too!" Bucky watched the quinjet fly away, waiting until you were completely out of sight before he turned to go back inside.

He nearly ran through the building, the excitement and nervousness he was feeling rolling off him in waves. He nearly ran right past Steve before skidding to a stop, grabbing onto a wall to slow himself down.

"Hey Buck." Steve greeted him with a furrowed brow. Typically after you leave for a mission, Bucky spends the next week moping. "What's got you so happy with Y/N gone?"

"I need your help." Bucky grinned, so focused on his plans that he missed Sam and Tony walking into the room.

"With?" Steve prompted, eager to figure out why Bucky was behaving so strangely.

"Picking out a ring." Bucky stated confidently, earning gasps from all three men. He spun around, eyes widening in surprise to find Sam and Tony in the doorway.

"You're proposing?" Sam nearly squealed with delight.

"Do you need dinner reservations? I know a guy at L'Artusi, I could probably get you in the week she comes back even though reservations are booked months in advance. Oh! I need to get Pepper to start planning a party." Tony mumbled more to himself, thinking back to how he proposed to Pepper.

"Tony!" Bucky nearly had to scream to get the man's attention. "I appreciate the offer, really, but I don't think Y/N is a fancy restaurant, big party kind of gal." Bucky sighed, not having expected to share his proposal plan just yet.

Steve cut in before Tony could respond, knowing the billionaire would say something about everyone loving fancy restaurants. "Congrats, Buck. I'm happy for you."

"She hasn't said yes, yet." He mumbled in response, suddenly feeling a bit bashful at being the center of attention.

"She will. That girl is madly in love with you." Sam encouraged, but couldn't help adding in a playful joke. "For reasons unbeknownst to me."

"Thanks for the encouragement." Bucky rolled his eyes, turning back to Steve. "So will you help me?"

Steve nodded, happy to help in any way necessary. "Of course, did you have any ideas?"

"I'll help too!" Tony added in, inserting himself into the conversation. He held up a hand before either man could interject. "And before you say it'll be too much if I have any say, I'll just help you get the ring made and to you in a reasonable time."

Bucky smiled, about to thank Tony when Sam cut in again. "If he's helping, I want in too. You can't leave me out!" He whined.

"Fine. You can both help too. Just don't push it." He eyes Sam, knowing he would take any opportunity to mess with him.

"Did you have any ideas or did you want to go to a jeweler tomorrow?" Steve asked, trying to refocus the conversation.

"Actually, I have a few ideas." He took a deep breath, trying to prepare for any criticism the men would throw at him for his unusual choices. "Nothing too flashy, and I don't want a diamond."

Tony nearly fainted with how big of a gasp he took. "No diamond? But, but, diamonds! Diamonds are the best! She deserves diamonds!" He stomped his foot, nearly throwing a full on temper tantrum before Bucky jumped in again.

"You're absolutely right, she deserves the world." He smiled softly, just thinking about you. "I just don't think she would like a diamond." He tried to explain.

"Tony, Buck probably knows her best..." Steve cut in, trying to calm him down.

"Friday, call Natasha and Wanda to the kitchen." Tony sent out the command, receiving a response from the AI before anyone could protest.

"What are you doing? You can't tell them!" Bucky harshly whispered, knowing it wouldn't be long before the two women arrived.

Tony sighed dramatically, "Look. If you don't think she'd like a diamond, those two are going to be your best bet at figuring out what she would want."

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but realized Tony was probably right. He hadn't made it much past his no diamond idea. "Fine, we can ask them for help." He resigned himself to everybody knowing his plans.

"Help with what?" Wanda asked as her and Nat strolled into the room, eyes slightly narrowed.

"What kind of engagement ring Y/N would like." Sam relished in the surprise that overtook their faces.

Nat recovered in seconds, scoffing immediately. "Well, definitely not a diamond."

"You're right. Too flashy for her." Wanda immediate went into planning mode.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back, reassuring him that he was on the right track.

"Yeah, Romeo over here already ruined my plans with that idea." Tony huffed. "What kind of stone then?"

They all spent the next few hours debating between opal, amethyst, sapphire, and sunstone. Then another few hours debating the shape and style of the stone and band. By the time the entire ring design had been settled, the sun was rising the next morning.

"I'll send the plans to my jeweler. You should have it in hand a few days before Y/N is due to get back." Tony stated, happy that you would be receiving the best money could buy.

"Thank you. All of you." Bucky turned to look at the people who had become family to him. "I really appreciate the help."

"Now we just need to plan the proposal." Nat smirked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Nope. That is for me to know, and Y/N to tell you if she says yes." Bucky smiled, glad he had already planned how he was going to ask you.

"I'll worm it out of you. You know I will!" Sam narrowed his eyes, ready to start his barrage of questions when Friday cut into the conversation.

"We have lost tracking capabilities on the quinjet. Communication with onboard agents has failed. Enacting emergency personnel tracking protocols."

Everyone froze, anticipating Friday's next announcement. In seconds, they would all know if you were okay or if you were missing.

"Tracking failed. Agent L/N's whereabouts unknown."

They all took off to the lab, Bucky leading the way despite not knowing how to use the technology to try and find you.

Tony started asking questions: what was the jet's last known location? Did any of the tech onboard fail? Was another aircraft present in the vicinity? Were missiles involved? Any heat signature information from before it went offline?

Each question asked did little to calm Bucky's racing heart. It felt like his world was collapsing, his future falling apart right before his eyes.

"We have to find her." He whispered more to himself than anyone else in the room. "We have to."

-

Present

"Where's Y/N?" Bucky asked as he sat down in the debriefing room. Everyone else was already there, waiting for Tony to explain why he called the impromptu meeting.

"She's... She's in the med bay." Immediately Bucky was out of his chair, ready to run to you. "Barnes. You need to hear this before you go. She's fine, she just had a panic attack and passed out."

"Fine? You call that fine?" He was nearly raging, pushing to get back to the door.

"Relatively, yeah. Look, just trust me on this. We'll all go see her when I've filled you in." Tony sighed, knowing it wasn't going to be easy to explain what you told him.

"Filled us in on what?" Nat questioned first, honing in on Tony's distressed state.

"Y/N." He stated simply, finally getting Bucky to listen to him.

"What do you mean, Y/N? You just said she was fine!" His words cut through the room. He just got you back, he couldn't lose you again.

"Physically, she is. Would you just sit down?" Tony practically begged, trying his best not to break down at the memory of the pain in your eyes.

Bucky stomped back to his seat, giving Tony his undivided attention and gesturing for him to continue.

"I ran into her last night. Literally. She was running through the halls. It looked like she had just seen a ghost." He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to contain his emotions.

"I figured she was just having flashbacks to being held captive, so I made her talk to me." He closed his eyes, unable to look everyone in the eye as he continued his explanation.

"I should've noticed sooner. She wasn't acting right. I just thought it was PTSD. I-" Steve cut him off this time.

"Tony. What happened?"

"She wasn't making any sense. She said she didn't belong here, that she wasn't who we thought she was." Confusion grew on everyone's faces as Tony explained your breakdown. "Said she wasn't an Avenger. She was a murderer."

"The experiments..." Nat mumbled to herself, putting the pieces together as Tony continued explaining what happened.

"Long story short, she thinks she made a bomb that killed 38 people and that she was in prison for 3 years before we broke her out and brought her here." He took a deep breath, letting his words sink in for everyone.

"She was mumbling about experiments." Nat said louder now that Tony was done. "In the kitchen. She said they would bring her to another room sometimes, but it looked like it hurt for her to remember. They must've messed with her head."

Bucky could barely breathe. You strange behavior suddenly made sense. Your surprise at being part of the Avengers, not wanting to tell him what was bothering you, leaving bed before he woke up, not telling him you loved him. It all started making more sense.

"We have to tell her the truth."

-

While everyone was trying to come up with the best plan to help you with your memories, you woke up in the med bay alone.

You were surprised to have been left alone after admitting to your crimes, but you took the opportunity to finish what you started: running away.

You quickly found your way to the elevator hoping you could remember which floor would lead to an exit. As you snuck down the halls, you could hear voices coming from one of the rooms.

"We have to tell her the truth."

You felt your heart flutter at the sound of Bucky's voice. He had been so kind to you. it felt wrong to just leave him, but you didn't see another choice. You couldn't bear the thought of looking him in the eye now that Tony likely told him about your past.

You quickly made your way back to the elevator, figuring a different floor would be better suited for your escape.

You ultimately made it outside, deciding to forego any vehicles you passed. They could probably be tracked. Instead, you took off through the woods.

-

It wasn't long before Bucky got tired of debating how best to fix your memories. He needed to see you. He needed to know you were alright.

"Look, call Shuri and T'Challa. See if they can come here to help her." Bucky headed for the door, not waiting for a response before making his way to you.

Everyone but Tony, who was calling T'Challa, quickly followed his hasty exit.

When they arrived to the med bay, it was empty.

"Where is she?" Sam questioned, causing everyone to glance around the room.

Tony walked in as everyone searched the multitude of beds, making sure you were in fact not in the room.

"You said she was in the med bay." Bucky glared, waiting for Tony to explain.

"She was." He glanced around the room as well, confused by your absence. "She passed out, so I brought her here. They gave her a sedative to calm her heart rate. She should still be sleeping."

"She's not here." Bucky stopped moving, the realization causing a mixture of anger and panic to course through him. "She's not here." He repeats it louder, causing everyone else to freeze as well.

"Friday, where is Y/N?" Tony asked the AI, knowing it was a waste to search the compound.

"She left the Med Bay 23 minutes ago, briefly stopping outside the debriefing room before exiting the building from the garage." The AI easily recounted your quick escape.

"Are there any cars missing?" Tony followed up, figuring you'd be easy enough to track.

"All vehicles are accounted for."

"She's on foot. Friday, which direction did she go?" Bucky asked, barely waiting for a response as he ran from the room.

"I can track her movements via security footage east until she hits the woods."

Tony, Sam, Nat, Wanda, Steve, Vision, and Clint all followed right behind Bucky as he ran out of the compound.

Bucky and Nat headed east, following Friday's information. Everyone else split up, figuring it'd be best to cover all directions since you could have doubled back or gotten turned around in the woods.

-

You weren't sure how long you had been on the move, but you had made it about 3.5 miles when you found what looked like an abandoned treehouse.

With the sun setting and the exhaustion of waking up in a hospital bed catching up to you, you figured it'd be best for you to stop and rest for the night.

Hopefully you made it far enough to avoid detection for now. Ideally, they wouldn't start the manhunt for you until morning.

You climbed into the treehouse slowly, trying to distribute your weight over the creaking and breaking floorboards. You settled in the corner, propping yourself against the walls to keep an eye on the door.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the sounds of frogs croaking and crickets chirping invading your senses.

Your sleep was restless, plagued by memories of a life you barely remembered, memories that felt more like a dream than reality.

-

Nat and Bucky tracked you through the woods methodically. Every snapped twig or partial footprint lead them in your direction. The sun set early in their search, but it did little to deter their efforts.

A few hours after dark, they approached the abandoned treehouse you camped out in.

Even twenty yards away, they could hear your whispered screams.

"No. No, no, no. No, please. Stop. Bucky, help me. Please don't. Please." You begged.

Bucky's heart broke at the sound of pain in your voice. It killed him to know you were begging for him while Hydra was removing him from your memory.

He climbed the ladder of the treehouse rapidly, not paying any mind to the creaking floors and breaking boards. He rushed to you in the corner, pulling you into his arms as he tried to wake you up.

"Y/N, I'm here. I've got you. You're safe. I'm here now." He whispered into your neck, rocking you back and forth.

"Bucky?" You squinted in confusion, eyes adjusting to the dark.

"I've got you, doll. You're safe now." He easily replied, trying to calm you from your nightmares.

"No, Bucky. I- I killed people." You sobbed, your hands burying themselves into his shirt.

"No, doll. Y/N, that's not real." He repeated your name, trying to convince you of the truth. "Hydra, they messed with your memories. We can fix it."

"But, no- I hurt people." You were shaking, trying to explain even though you'd rather give in.

"Please trust me. Let's go back to the compound. We can figure it all out. We'll get your memories back, I promise." He held you in his arms in an unwavering grip, afraid if he let you go you would disappear. "Come back to me, okay?"

"I promise. I love you." You whispered the words more to yourself, trying to figure out why they came to mind. Images flashed through your mind; saying goodbye to Bucky, boarding a jet, being attacked in the air, Hydra.

"I'll come with you." Your voice was shaky, still unsure of what was true.

Bucky quickly lead you out of the treehouse, regrouping with Nat on the ground.

"Good?" Nat questioned, trying to prepare for if you ran.

"Good, for now." Bucky replied, scooping you into his arms to carry you back to the compound.

- You woke up to voices, patches of light flickering across your closed eyelids.

"Can you do it?" You recognized Bucky, but the responding voice was only vaguely familiar.

"I can. It will take some time, but it does not appear to be as severe as your own memory problems." His memory problems? What was she talking about?

"Shuri, you're a genius." Shuri, the name triggered something in your mind, but it's like you can't put the pieces together.

"I know. Now let me get to work." She shooed him out of the lab as your world faded to black yet again.

-

Bucky sat beside your bed the second Shuri allowed him to. If it weren't for Steve bringing him food, he wouldn't have eaten anything in the day and a half you've been asleep.

"Buck, you've got to rest." Steve tried for the fifteenth time to get his friend to sleep.

"I can't. Steve, if I sleep and she's not here when I wake up..." He trailed off, unable to put to words the pain of losing you again.

"I'll stay with her. She'll be here when you wake up, I promise." Steve sighed.

"You'll stay?" His voice was small, his body's need for sleep finally overpowering his concern for you.

"Promise." Steve nodded, pulling a chair to sit next to your bed while Bucky laid down in the hospital bed next to yours. "I would've preferred a real bed, but I'll take it."

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere." Bucky closed his eyes, knowing he had to at least try to sleep to avoid another scolding from Steve.

A few hours later, Steve couldn't help but smile as he watched Bucky finally get some rest. Even asleep in a different bed, his body was angled toward yours.

"Steve?" Your voiced cracked, throat dry from crying and lack of use.

"Y/N?" He sat up instantly, moving to pass you a glass of water.

"What the hell happened? Where's Buck?" You questioned, feeling as though your brain was a pile of mush.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Steve avoided your questions for the time being, subtly pulling out his phone to message Shuri.

"The mission. The quinjet was attacked. Hydra took me captive." You slowly put the pieces together. "But you saved me. Bucky saved me. Right?" You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to clear up the memories.

"That's right. Do you remember anything else?" Steve probed gently, unsure of how to tell you about the last few days.

"Um, there was a lab in the basement. They brought me there sometimes. I think..." Everything in your head felt incomplete, like you only knew part of the story.

"You're awake." A feminine voice called from the door to the med bay, causing you and Steve to turn your heads.

"Shuri! It's so good to see you." You pull her in for a hug as soon as she's close enough to your bed. "What are you doing here?"

Shuri eyes you suspiciously, willing you to remember everything with just her stare. "You'll remember soon enough. What do you remember from the past few days?"

"Um, where do you want me to start? I was just telling Steve, I left for the mission, but the jet was attacked and I was captured. I think Hydra must've tried to do experiments on me or something, I remember a lab." Your whole body shook, shivering from the bad memory.

"Good. It's good you remember that." Shuri nodded, a confident smile on her face. "What about after you were rescued?"

You thought back to that moment, but it was a little fuzzy. "Bucky... Bucky was there. He carried me out." Suddenly, an even more urgent thought popped into your head. "Oh my God. Where's Bucky?"

Steve gestured to your left, pointing out a sleeping Bucky in the bed next to yours. He always looked so peaceful while he slept.

You couldn't stop the grin from forming on your face as you watched him. You couldn't imagine how he was feeling while you were gone.

"Messages." You whispered. "I remember listening to messages from Bucky. He- He must've left them while he was looking for me, while you were all looking for me." Your eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/N?" Steve questioned, drawing you back to the present. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure." You shook your head, as if the action in itself would clear your mind. "I remember how I felt when I listened to the messages and it doesn't make any sense."

"How did you feel?" Shuri questioned, eager to see if she gave you back all of your memories, including the past few days.

"Guilty? I think." You replayed the messages in your head as best as you could remember.

"What do you mean guilty?' Steve questioned.

"Like they weren't really for me. Like I wasn't actually me." You looked at Steve and Shuri as they shared a look. "What are you not telling me?"

"I'll leave this one to you, Captain. She is healing nicely." Shuri turned to you before she walked out of the room. "You should understand everything in a few hours. Just give your mind time to put the pieces together."

"Steve, what is she talking about?" You settled a hard glare in his direction, knowing he knew more than you.

"Let me ask you this: do you know how long you were gone?" Steve sighed, unsure how exactly to explain everything.

"About 3 months. I tried to keep a tally while I was there, based on the daily routine." You responded easily.

"Well, when we found you, although we didn't know it at the time, you thought you had been there for 3 years." Steve looked like he was about to continue when you interrupted.

"38 people. I thought I killed 38 people." Suddenly, the pieces were falling into place. "They made me forget who I was. Erased my past and gave me a new one." Your breathing was speeding up as everything came back to you.

"Y/N, hey, look at me." Steve nearly commanded causing you to meet his eye. "You're safe now. We've got you."

You nodded, matching your breathing to his pace to settle your racing heart.

"How long has Buck been asleep." You looked at his sleeping form, wanting more than anything to wake him up.

"A few hours. Ya know, it's good to hear you calling him Buck again." Steve looked at his friend as well, knowing he would be furious that he was still asleep when you were now awake.

"What do you mean?" You turned back to Steve, the question clear on your face.

"The past few days, I mean we all thought it was PTSD." He ran a hand through his hair, guilt clearly playing at his emotions. "Well, not Nat. She knew something was up."

"Of course." You chuckled.

"You called him Bucky every time you talked to him."

"Isn't that normal though?" You were more confused now than before.

"No, not really. You use a lot more pet names than you realize. Plus, you didn't say 'I love you' when you woke up." Steve sighed, again upset at not putting it together sooner.

"Well, that should've been a dead giveaway." You joked, but Steve's eyes remained sad. "Hey, it's not your fault. I'm fine now. That's all that matters."

"I'm glad to have you back." He looked at you with so much sincerity, you nearly started crying again.

Before you could respond Bucky groaned, stretching as he woke up.

"Damn, that was a good nap. How long was I out?" He asked before opening his eyes.

"Oh, just a few hours. You should really sleep more." You answered casually.

"Y/N, you know I can't sleep when- Y/N!" His eyes popped open comically wide as he nearly threw himself out of the bed.

"I love you." You said it so clearly he froze next to your bed.

"You remember?" He asked, voice full of hope.

"I do." The tears pooled in your eyes again as you watched his body visibly relax.

"I missed you so much, doll." You pulled him on top of you in the bed, needing to hold him as close as possible.

"I missed you too. I knew you'd come for me." You smiled through the tears, breathing in his scent.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry it took so long. I'm sorry I didn't realize everything sooner. I'm so sorry." He apologized over and over.

"Look at me." He moved his head back just far enough to look you in the eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Not one single thing. Okay?"

"But-" His protests were quickly cut off.

"Not. One. Single. Thing." You stared him down until he nodded.

The two of you cuddled in your hospital bed while Steve went to update everyone on your condition. He could've just had Friday announce it, but he wanted to give you and Bucky a minute to yourselves.

"I've got a date planned for you." Bucky smiled cheekily.

"Oh really?" He nodded. "Care to share with the room?"

"Nope. It's a surprise." He shared a small smile, the love he felt so easily portrayed through his eyes.

"I love you. So much." You couldn't help but blurt it out one more time before everyone barged into the room.

"I love you too."

-

"We're going to be late." Bucky huffed, waiting for you to leave the bathroom.

"Well, if you had told me where we were going it would've been easier to pick an outfit." You teased him back. He had never been good at keeping secrets from you, so the fact that your date destination was still a surprise shocked you.

"I told you to wear whatever you want. You always look beautiful." He relished in the bashful smile that you covered with a playful roll of your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm ready now Mr. Impatient." You grabbed his hand as you walked out of your bathroom.

"Good, let's go." He guided you to the kitchen where he stopped to grab a picnic basket. He then lead you hand in hand to a blanket set up by the lake.

"We were going to be late for a picnic?" You questioned, fixing Bucky with a teasing glare.

"Not the picnic. The sunset." He teased back, turning your head to look out over the water.

You hadn't realized the sun was already in the midst of setting. "It's beautiful." You smiled as you stared at the horizon, the ultimate picture of peace and tranquility.

"Y/N, I've been in love with you for so long, I can't remember what it was like before I met you." Bucky kept his eyes trained on you as you took in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

"That's just because you have a bad memory." You joked, but your breath caught in your throat when you turned to look at him.

"Maybe so, but I don't want to remember any part of my life that you weren't in." He stated from his kneeling position. "I knew from the second you agreed to get dinner with me that I would ask you to marry me someday."

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a teardrop cut sunstone ring, small diamonds set along the band.

"Y/N, will you marry me?"

You shook your head up and down as you willed your voice to answer him.

"Yes. Bucky, I- yes."

He slipped the ring onto your finger, silently thanking Nat and Wanda for knowing your ring size. He then pulled you down into his lap, pressing a series of quick kisses to your lips between smiles.

"I love you so much, doll." He whispered, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose, and forehead.

"I love you too, Bucky." You responded in kind. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

He cuddle you closer, sliding the picnic basket next to you. "Let's start with dinner."

"I think I might be too excited to eat." He laughed at your pout.

"Well, if we hadn't of been late, you would've eaten before sunset." He smiled at your carefree laughter.

You looked out over the lake one more time, taking in the dusk sky as the sun swiftly dipped below the horizon.

"It was perfect just like this. You're perfect." You kissed him again, unable to contain the utter joy you were feeling.

"I'm hardly perfect." He objected.

"You're perfect to me." You countered.

"I love you. So much." He whispered one final time before kissing you again.

"I love you too."

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[kinkykinard]

8 with buck or buddie x reader please!! nsfw if you like~ thank you <3

          Sitting at Eddie’s side as he slept off the surgical anaesthetic, Buck was starting to understand why Eddie hated hospitals almost as much as he did.  As bad as being a patient was, seeing Eddie so vulnerable lying in the bed, monitor leads and IV lines peeking out from beneath his gown, was far worse.  The worry, the anxiety, the thoughts of what had happened to you and Eddie while he and Chim had been fighting the fire in another part of the building were a lot.

           “Knock knock.”

           Buck jumped at the sound of your voice and you smiled when he turned to watch you as you crossed the room to join him at Eddie’s bedside.  He could see that you were limping and he immediately stood, stepping aside to make room for you in the chair he’d just been occupying.

           “How are you doing?”  Buck asked, his gaze sweeping you head to toe, looking for any other signs of injury.  “What did the doctor say?”

           “A few scrapes and bruises, a sprained ankle; nothing a few days of rest and ice won’t fix.”

           Buck looked like he wanted to argue, but he settled for stepping into your bubble, cupping your cheek and giving you a soft, sad smile.  You mirrored it for a moment, nuzzling into his touch briefly before looking over at Eddie.

           “How about him?”  You asked.

           You hated that you’d been injured in the fire.  You hated even more that Eddie had been hurt worse while diving to save you.  You knew you’d likely have been killed if not for his quick thinking, but you wished he hadn’t put his own life on the line for yours.  Seeing him out of surgery and sleeping peacefully helped assuage your guilt a little, but the memory of watching the surgical team whisk him away while Bobby insisted you stay in the ER to have your own injuries checked, of telling Buck to go with Eddie, that’d you be fine on your own, gnawed at your composure.

           “They managed to fix the bleed laparoscopically,” Buck assured you.  “He’ll be back on his feet in no time.  It could have been a lot worse.”

           Buck’s words, which you were sure were meant to be comforting, made all of your emotions bubble to the surface and a single, ragged sob escaped you before you could stop it.  You clamped a hand over your mouth, averting your gaze as Buck knelt so he could get a better look at you.

           “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, reaching out and grasping your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face as tears stung your eyes. 

           You shook your head, sniffing quietly as Eddie shifted just the smallest bit, not wanting to disturb him.  You leveled your watery gaze on Buck, wincing as your rib cage ached when you curled in on yourself.

           “He almost died because of me.”

           Buck’s gaze hardened, turning fierce but not unkind.  He squeezed your wrists in reassurance.

           “He was doing his job,” Buck said firmly.  “He didn’t get hurt because of you; he’d have done the same for anyone else, and you’d have done the same for him.  It happens in this line of work, we get hurt sometimes, things go wrong, bad stuff happens, but we pick up the pieces and get back on our feet and do it all over again the next time.  That’s the job.  It’s what we all signed up for, what we’ve all deemed an acceptable level of risk, and as bad as it was, everything’s going to be fine.  You’re going to be fine.  Eddie’s going to be fine.”

           You were ready to protest again, but a noise from the bed beside you got your attention first and both you and Buck were on your feet in moments, leaning over Eddie’s bed as he opened his eyes, hissing at the brightness of the overhead lights.

           “Am I, though?”  Eddie asked, his tone both somewhat pained and playful - you could tell he’d overheard your conversation.  You hurriedly wiped the tears away before he could look too closely at you.

           “Yes, you are,” Buck pressed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.  “Stop being such a baby.”

           Eddie chuckled softly, grimacing a little as it pulled at his stitches.  The pained expression on his face passed as quickly as it came on, though, and the three of you lapsed into a conversation far more lighthearted than the situation warranted.  You knew that it was a deliberate move on Buck and Eddie’s parts, and while you still felt guilt in the pit of your stomach, you allowed yourself to be reassured by the two of them.  As the minutes wore on, you felt the knot starting to loosen a bit, and by the time a nurse came around to kick you and Buck out for the night so Eddie could get some rest, you were starting to feel a little less terrible.

           With one last goodbye and a whispered order to Eddie to behave himself until you could come back to visit the following morning, you allowed Buck to wrap an arm around your shoulders and lead you out of the room.  You trusted the nurses to take care of Eddie, and as Buck held you close, supporting you and keeping you steady, you knew you could trust him to take care of you.

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 15

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,365ish

Summary: The divorce papers are still an issue. (Grey’s Anatomy 2x05) [Finally! I know. Thank you for being patient with me!]

You grabbed your things and rushed out of the bar. Steve quickly did the same.

“Y/N,” Steve called.

“No. I don’t want to talk about this,” you replied, heading down the street. “Not now. Not with you.”

“Y/N…”

“You didn’t sign the divorce papers. Fine. I get it. End of discussion.”

“Y/N.”

“What?!?” You finally spun around to face him.

“Oh… I usually just say ‘Y/N’ and then you yell at me. I haven’t really thought past that point.” You scowled and shook your head. “I actually didn’t have anything planned.” You hit him with your bag. “Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “What is with that?” You did it a few more times. “Hey stop it. Ow.”

“Seriously?! Seriously?! You know what, just leave me alone.”

Steve reached for you. “Y/N—“

“Stop it! I said leave me alone! I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You stormed off, heading to find your car so that you could go back home. You were pissed at Steve and, mostly, yourself. How could you let yourself believe that he would be so willing to sign those divorce papers to be with you?

~~~ 

All you interns had just finished rounds and Gamora had you all in the hallway for assignments. Before she could call them out, Peggy interrupted.

“Has anyone seen Dr. Rogers this morning?” She wondered.

“His name is on the OR board,” Gamora answered. “He should be here somewhere.”

“Thank you.” Peggy swiftly walked off.

“Quill, Lang, you’re in the pit today. Val, there’s a cardiac patient waiting up for you on 2. Barton, they need help in peds. Romanoff, keep an eye on the Longs. And L/N, you’re with Rogers. I don’t want any problems. Go.”

Everyone hurried away while you stayed put. “Rogers?” You whispered. “Uh, I guess, which one?”

“Steve.”

“Uh, I don’t think—“

“Hey, life is short. Times are hard. The road is long with many a winding turn,” Gamora sassed. “He actually asked for you. Take it up with him.” Gamora walked away.

“Shit.”

“Shit? Oh no,” Tony showed up beside you. “It’s only morning. What’s wrong already?”

“Steve didn’t sign the divorce papers.”

“Oh,” Tony grimaced. 

“And now he’s asked for me to be on his service today.”

“Well, maybe he will sign them. He just has to think about it.”

“But I don’t want him to think about it. I want it… I want…”

“You want to be the obvious choice. I get it.”

“Yeah… how’s trying to get Pepper going?”

“I think I almost have her. I’ve been in on all her surgeries that I can be. Fury and Hill are even making it work.”

“Wow. I wish I had everyone on my side. But… I don’t and it doesn’t matter anymore. It has to be his choice, not mine, not me pleading or begging. It needs to be all him.”

“Wise,” Tony nodded. “I still think he’ll choose you.”

“We will see… we will see…”

~~~

“Y/N,” Steve greeted when you found him.

“Your wife is looking for you,” you responded.

“Oh, my gosh,” he sighed. “This is hard for me, Y/N.”

“Well, let me make it easy then. I’m not gonna be that woman. The one who breaks up a marriage or begs you to want me. You can sign the papers or you cannot. The choice is yours. Either way, when it comes to this relationship, I’m out.” Steve’s eyes widened and he went to speak but you quickly cut him off. “Nope. We aren’t getting into it anymore. Now, where’s this patient I’m supposed to be helping with.”

Steve pointed behind him. “Down there. But, Y/N—“

“No.” You walked away, Steve following.

“Y/N—“

“No.”

Finally letting it go, Steve sighed and followed you into the patient’s room. There was a young woman on the bed.

“Good morning,” Steve greeted.

“Morning Dr. Rogers,” she responded.

“This is Dr. L/N.”

“Hello,” you greeted. “Can you tell us about your pain?”

“I’ve had a twinge in my back for a little while,” the young woman explained. “I thought it would go away, but then last night my legs went numb. And this morning my back… the pain is just too much.”

“Miss Yang, we’re going to put you on a PCA pump,” Steve said, “give you some morphine which should help control the pain.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, but there is a bigger problem here. I’ve just take a look at your MRI—“

“Cris!” A man exclaimed, him and a woman rushing into the room and to the young woman’s bedside. “Why didn’t you call us before coming down here?”

“I’m sorry,” Cris said. She turned to look at you and Steve. “These are my parents.”

“What’s going on?”

“I was just about to explain that Cris’s MRI has shown that she has myxopapillary ependymoma,” Steve answered. “It’s a tumor in her spinal canal. But the good news is that we can operate. You have a 95% chance of fully if we get you into surgery as soon as possible. We can’t wait another moment. With a tumor this aggressive even waiting another day puts you at risk of permanent paralysis.”

“Father?” Cris questioned, looking to the man.

Mr. Yang shook his head. “No,” he said. “No surgery.”

“Mr. Yang, without surgery Cris will be paralyzed, probably within the next 24 hours,” Steve said.

“There will be no surgery today. We’re taking her home.”

“Cris needs the surgery,” you pressed.

“And she can have it at another time.”

“Look,” Steve tried again, “Mr. Yang—“

“We are taking our daughter home.”

Steve looked at Cris. “Cris, you are over 18. You don’t need your father’s consent.”

“I am Hmong, and my father is the elder,” Cris explained. “He says I go home, I go home.”

You could tell that Steve was holding back from a harsh reply. He gave Mr. Yang a nod before leaving the room, you following after him.

“Hmong? Let’s find out what that means,” Steve said.

“Do I continue to process her discharge?” You wondered.

“Yeah we have to. It’s insane, but we have to. It reminds me of this case I had one time and this woman came to the office and—“

“Look, do you need me for anything else work related?”

Steve looked around the hallway before pulling you into an on-call room with him.

“Look, I was married for 11 years,” Steve began. “Peggy is my family. That is 11 Thanksgivings, 11 birthdays and 11 Christmases. And in one day, I’m supposed to sign a piece of paper and end my family? A person doesn’t do that. Not without a little hesitation. I’m entitled to a little uncertainty here! At least a moment to understand the magnitude to what it means to cut somebody out of my life. I’m entitled to at least one moment of painful doubt. And a little understanding from you would be nice.”

“I am not fighting you on this,” you responded, opening the door. “Not anymore.”

You stormed away. Leaving both you and Steve in an confused state of anger.

~~~

Bruce was walking down the hall when he noticed Peggy.

“Dr. Rogers,” he greeted. “Still here, I see.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” she responded with a smile. “Have you seen the other Dr. Rogers by chance?”

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks,” Peggy walked off and Natasha walked up.

“So, um, thanks for, uh, being there,” she said softly.

“No thanks needed,” Bruce responded.

“Okay.”

“So where are we?”

“Uh, the north-east corner of a medical center.” Bruce glared at her. “Oh, I’m, I’m getting back on my feet.”

“Fine.”

“That doesn’t mean that—“

“Natasha.”

“It’s my first day back, I’ve… I’ve got—“

“I’m not waiting forever.” The lights flickered, causing the two of them to glance up. “And, apparently, I’m not the only one.”

“Dr. Banner!” Nurse Vision jogged up. “There’s a problem with the elevator!”

“And?”

“Dr. Quill and Dr. Barton are stuck in it with your GSW patient that they were bringing up to the OR.”

“I should have fought harder for the pit,” Natasha grumbled.

~~~

“Lightning hit a sub station,” Maria Hill told Fury as they walked down the hall with Peggy. “We’re running on back up generators.” The medical center had lost its power. “One of them is down.” 

Fury stopped, causing the others to do so as well. He rested his hands on his hips, annoyed.

“Breathe, Nick,” Peggy guided. “Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe, damn it!” He exclaimed. “The only direct means of transporting from the ER to the OR isn’t working. I’ll breathe if I wanna breathe.”

Fury huffed before making his way to the elevators. Gamora and Banner were there, watching some men pry open an elevator.

“How bad is it?” Fury asked.

“Two interns and a GSW to the chest,” Bruce explained.

Fury closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead.

“Good air in,” Peggy coaxed, doing it herself. “Bad air out.”

Fury gave her a look before turning his attention back on the elevator. “Come on people! Get those doors open!”

The men working on the elevator doors, finally get the door partially open. Revealing that the elevator car was caught between floors. Peter and Clint were in there with their GSW patient.

“It’s jammed,” one of the workers said. “It won’t open anymore. This is as wide as it will go.”

“What did you two do?” Gamora asked the interns in the elevator, kneeling down to see them better.

“Nothing!” They both exclaimed.

“How’s the patient?” Bruce asked, getting down beside Gamora.

“He’s not looking so good,” Clint answered.

~~~

“Why do the lights keep flickering?” Cris asked.

“Something about a backup generator,” you answered, finishing up hooking the morphine up to her IV. “This pump will provide you with a morphine drip and should stop your pain.”

“I told you, I don’t need it. I’m going home.”

“You realize you’ll have to sign an AMA form stating that you’re leaving against medical advice.”

“Fine,” she nodded.

“I know this is new and confusing. I actually called a social worker, they’re willing to come down and talk to you—“

“Spare me the cultural divide, love. I grew up from the street down here. I play in a band. I get it. My father doesn’t. He says no, it’s no.”

“We’re talking about your ability to ever walk again.”

“That’s what you're talking about. I’m talking about my family. Have you ever even heard of the Hmong people?” You shook your head. “Our religion has got rules that are way old and way set in stone and way spiritual and you don’t mess with them.” She sighed. “You don’t anger the ancestors. Even if you pierce your tongue and play in a band.”

“What are the rules exactly?”

~~~

“Rogers!” Gamora shouted as she headed towards Steve. “You’re wife is looking for you.”

“I know,” he responded.

“Are you actively avoiding her?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

Gamora scoffed, shaking her head as she walked away. “You’ve got to deal with your problems before they all blow up in this medical center!”

“Steve,” you called, coming up beside him.

“Yes?” He replied, turning to look at you.

“You need to talk to Cris’s father. I’d do it myself but I guess having testicles is a requirement.”

Steve sighed. “Did you try social services?”

“They can’t help us. Mr. Yang believes that Cris is missing something that she needs for surgery.”

“Missing something? Missing what?”

“One of her souls. We don’t need someone from social services. We need a shaman.”

~~~

Peter and Clint were still stuck in the elevator with their patient, Tommy. The patient was getting delirious, trying to sit up and pull out the tubes and wires.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Peter asked, trying to stop him.

“I have to get home,” Tommy said.

“Tom, you’re in the hospital.”

He sat up. “Need to get home.” Clint and Peter quickly worked to restrain him. “No. Need to get home.”

Dr. Banner, hearing the commotion, peered through the small opening of the elevator doors. “What’s his blood pressure?” The attending asked.

“It’s not reading,” Clint informed. “He’s too agitated.”

“How’s his pulse?”

“Thready but it’s still there,” Peter answered.

“Do you have any instruments?”

“Uh, we have…” Peter quickly looked around. “Uh, just a code box and some gloves.”

“You didn’t bring an open chest tray?”

“No. We thought—“

“You don’t have time for excuses. Barton, blood pressure.”

“I’ve taken it 3 times,” Clint replied.

“And?”

“I can’t hear systolic over 50.” Clint looked down at Tommy, who is really pale and wheezing. “He’s gonna die.” Both interns look at each other, scared.

“Intubate him,” Bruce ordered. “I’ll be right back.” He went to push himself up off the floor.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To get an instrument tray. You guys are going to have to open up his chest.”

Clint and Peter looked back at each, minds going a mile a minute as Banner stood up. Gamora was behind him, having heard the whole thing.

“Are you sure about having them open his chest?” Gamora asked.

“No,” he answered before he hurried away.

~~~

Chief Fury and Dr. Hill were walking down the hall together.

“This is incogitable,” Fury said. “There’s not enough power to move those elevators?”

“They’re doing what they can to replace the back up generator now,” Hill responded. “Fire department is standing by.”

“All critical patients?”

“Moved to the south wing.”

“Incoming trauma?”

“Re-routed to the other medical centers.”

“That damn back-up generator should’ve been replaced last year.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So why didn’t it happen? Dr. Hill, you know everything. Tell me whose ass I need to kick.”

“That would be your ass, Chief. You didn’t authorize the replacement generator to save money for the new MRI machine.”

Not wanting to show weakness, Fury walked away. Grumbling under his breath as he went.

~~~

It didn’t take long for Bruce to return to the elevator with the things the interns would need.

“This isn’t gonna be too sterile,” Bruce said as he got down to hand them the tools, “but we can still try. Prep and drape the patient.”

“On it,” Clint responded, quickly getting to work.

Peter stood there for a moment, nervously staring at Tommy. Eventually, he snapped out of it, shakily helping.

“Okay…” Peter breathed out once they were finished. “We’re really going to do this.”

Clint just looked at him, both interns feeling completely unprepared, as he kept squeezing air into the patient. Bruce stuck his hand back through with a pair of scissors and a scalpel in it. He hands them towards Peter, looking at him expectedly.

“Take these,” the attending said. Peter just looked at them, remaining still. “Quill, take the scalpel.” Peter just continued to stand frozen.

“Come on, Peter!” Clint exclaimed. “Take the damn scalpel!”

Dr. Banner looked at Peter, completely confused as to way the intern wasn’t moving. Bruce shook his hand to signal for Peter to take the instruments. But the intern looked away.

“Ventilate!” Clint demanded, annoyed at Peter as he shoved what he was holding into Peter’s hands. “I got it.” Clint swiped the instruments from Dr. Banner. He shot Peter an angry look. “Okay,” Clint looked to Dr. Banner. “What do I do?”

“Make a large anterior, lateral, mid-auxiliary incision in the 5th intercostal space,” Bruce directed.

“How—how large?”

“As long as possible. You need to get 2 hands in there. It needs to be long and deep. Use the scissors if you have to.” Peter then made eye contact with Bruce. “Quill, hold a light up for Barton while you’re ventilating. You can do that, right?” 

Peter nodded, grabbing a flashlight from Banner. Clint took a deep breath. He was about to cut when Bruce startled him.

“Barton, be sure you don’t cut into the lobe of the heart,” Bruce warned.

“Uh… how—“ Clint paused to clear his throat. “How can I be sure of that?”

“You just have to be sure.”

“We’ll, uh, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Clint tried to joke before cutting into Pete’s chest.

~~~

You walked up to Cris’ room. Steve was standing outside, watching the patient and her father interact.

“Is the shaman here yet?” You asked.

“He’s late,” Steve replied. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “We need to get her into surgery right now.”

Before you really thought about it, you put a comforting hand on Steve’s arm. “It will work out.”

Steve looked down at your hand and then at you. You two stared at each other, lost in the others eyes. It was too long before you realized that you two were too close for your liking and that your hand was still on his arm.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back.

“Y/N, please just—“

You shook your head. “I’ll see how far our shaman’s out.” And you hurried away.

~~~

Bruce hadn’t moved from his viewpoint of inside the elevator. It had been a while now since Clint had cut into Tommy, but Bruce couldn’t see exactly what was going on.

“Barton, how are you doing down there?” He asked.

“Bruce,” Maria Hill said before Clint could answer. “The fire department’s here. They can get the doors open.”

“No!” Bruce turned to look at the crowd behind him. “Nobody moves. Nobody works not he elevator. I have an open chest and a very nervous intern in there. Keep them back until I give the word.” Dr. Hill nodded, motioning everyone back, before Bruce focused back on inside the elevator. “Clint.”

“I didn’t cut the heart or the lungs,” Clint answered, clearly surprised. “Dr. Banner, I didn’t cut the heart or the lungs!”

“Good, good. Very good. Now check for injuries and do a pericardiotomy.”

“Uh, I’ll need some lap pads, forceps, Metzenbaums and Satinksy clamps then.”

Bruce gave a light smile and a nod. “Yes, you will.”

Clint was quickly given the supplies and got to work. 

“Okay… I’ve removed the small clot from the pericardium,” Clint informed Dr. Banner. “No obvious cardiac injuries.”

“Any change in the vitals?” Bruce wondered.

“BP’s still too low to register on the monitor,” Peter spoke up.

“We need to cross clamp the aorta.”

Clint grabbed the clamp from a tray next to him and put it through the opening.

“Stick your hand in and bluntly dissect down until you feel two tube-like structures,” Bruce guided. “The esophagus will be more medical and anterior.”

Clint stuck both his bands in the open chest. “Ah, I feel one tube that is easily collapsible and the other I store muscular, spongy. I can also feel the spine, just underneath it.”

“Yes, you’re touching the aorta.”

The intern grinned. “I’m touching the aorta.”

“Wrap the index finger of your left hand around it and apply a Satinsky clamp with your right hand.”

Clint put in the clamp. “Got it… Wait, I… I think I can localize the bleeding. I… Well… I think it’s coming from the inferior vena cava.”

“Can you find the lesion?”

“Yeah. Yeah… I think I can feel, ah—it’s too far in to repair.”

“Can you tell me how big it is?”

“Small, maybe… like, smaller than a dime.”

“Okay then Barton, I want you to take your finger and plug the hole.”

Clint nodded and did as directed. “I think I can feel his heart… it’s… it’s starting to fill more. It’s beating a little stronger.”

“Excellent. Keep your finger there.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“That’s it.”

“Really?” Bruce turned to lay on his back in relief. “I just stand here with my finger plugging the hole?”

“Yes. Until we can get you out of that elevator and into the OR.” Bruce lifted his head and looked at Dr. Hill. “Tell the fire department to get them out of there.”

“On it,” Hill responded.

Bruce rolled back over and looked at Clint. “Barton.”

“Yes, sir?” The intern replied.

“You just flew solo.”

~~~

“Okay, Cris. We’re going to shut off the PCA pump now,” you began explaining, “which means you will be in a lot of pain for the duration of the—“

“The healing ritual,” Cris interrupted.

“Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Yeah. I can’t find my soul if I’m medicated. No pain, no gain, right?”

“Just, tell me this… you believe in it all too, right? You’re not just doing this for your father.”

“I know it sounds like a load of crap but… just watch the ritual. You’ll see.”

“See what?”

“The moment it happens.” You nodded as the shaman came in with Cris’ family. She looked at them. “I’m ready.”

To give them some room, you and Steve watched and waiting from outside the room.

“How long do you think it takes to retrieve a lost soul?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

You and Steve carefully watched the healing ritual. And you did see what Cris was talking about. The moment it happened. You didn’t have to believe in it, but you did find a new found respect for her beliefs.

~~~

During Cris’ surgery, you and Steve worked in tandem. You felt weighed down the whole time though. Peggy stood watch in the gallery, smiling down at Steve. He looked up every so often, always looking at his wife. You noticed each time.

You had already finished scrubbing out of surgery by the time Steve started himself. You were outside the scrub room, pacing. You couldn’t do this, this whole pretending to not care thing. It was too hard. You burst into the scrub room, Steve immediately looking at you.

“I lied,” you said. “I’m not out of this relationship. I’m in. I’m so in, it’s humiliating because here I am, going to beg—“

“Y/N,” Steve interrupted quietly.

“Just shut up. You say Y/N and I yell, remember?”

“Yeah.” He leaned away the sink, listening.

“Okay, here it is,” you took a deep breath. “Your choice. It’s simple.” You started to get emotional. Damn it, you loved this man too much. “Her or me. And I’m sure she’s really great. But, Steve… I love you… in a really, really big, “pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window”… unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

Steve was staring at you lovingly. He moved to touch you, but you pulled away.

“I’ll be at Happy’s tonight,” you continued. “So if you decide to sign the papers, meet me there.”

Then you walked out. Steve, distressed now, sighed. What was he going to do?

~~~

“Do you think he’ll show?” You asked, doing a tequila shot.

“He’ll show,” Happy said.

The door opened. You turned to the door hopefully, but it’s just Tony walking in. He came over, took off his suit coat and sat next to you at the bar.

“I got your message,” Tony said, motioning for Happy to get him a drink. “You gave him a choice, brave.” He nodded. “But he’s not stupid, though love does make you stupid sometimes. He’ll chose you.” Happy handed him a drink. “Thank you.” 

“Are you sure?” You questioned. “I… I literally told him that I loved him. I’ve… I’ve never done that before.”

“He loves you too. He’s just an idiot.”

~~~

Steve was sitting in a doctor’s lounge at the hospital, fidgeting with a pen. The divorce papers were in a manila envelope on the table in front of him. Gamora entered the room, dressed up.

“How’s your patient?” Gamora asked as she put some things away. “The one who got her soul back?”

“She’s gonna be fine,” Steve responded. He looked up at took Gamora in. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you dressed up.”

“Yeah, well, I’m suppose to have a date tonight.”

“Yeah? Anyone I know?”

“Like I’d tell you.” Gamora noticed the pen in Steve’s hand and the envelope on the table. “You haven’t signed those divorce papers yet, have you?” 

Steve shook his head. “Gamora.” He looked at her, pleading. “Tell me what to do.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why does this have to be so hard?”

“It’s not hard. It’s painful, but it’s not hard. You know what to do already. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be in this much pain.”

“I guess you’re right.” Steve sighed. “I shouldn’t keep you. Good luck on your date.”

~~~

Natasha found Bruce in the stairwell, as he went to find an on-call room.

“Hey,” Natasha stopped him, “I… So…” She sighed. “Here’s where we are. I work too much. I’m competitive. I’m always right. And I snore.” 

Bruce looked at her confused. “What?”

“I’m trying here.”

Still looking confused, Bruce took a moment to think it out. “Oh! Ohhhh…”

“Yeah.” 

“So?”

“Okay. We’re a couple. Whatever. DOn’t make a big deal about it.” 

She began walking away. Natasha quickly paused though and turned around. She hurried to Bruce, kissed him, and hurried down the stairs.

~~~

Peggy found Steve in the doctor’s lounge.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking, well, everywhere for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Steve responded.

“So?” She glanced down at the envelope. “Are you going to sign those divorce papers or not?”

~~~

You were still waiting at the bar. Tony was there, but so was Pepper. So as he flirted with her, he kept an eye on you. Val, Clint, and Scott had joined you.

“He’s not going to come,” you sighed. “You all don’t think he’s coming.”

“He might come,” Val said.

“Yeah, you never know,” Scott agreed.

“He’s definitely coming,” Clint said. Val quickly kicked him from under the bar. “Ow. What? Do you want her doing tequila shots all night? I’ll be the one cleaning up the vomit. Besides, I feel good. I touched a heart today.”

The bell on the door went off again. They all turned to look, but it wasn’t Steve. You sighed and turned back to Happy.

“Pour me another one.”

next chapter >

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[pluviophile-imagines]

3 for bakugo or todoroki

I decided to do Bakugo for this, & then I got this ask after I closed the prompts for this event so I decided to go ahead and do it because it’s actually one of only two Halloween-related ones and I was planning to make this Werewolf!Bakugo anyway lol. This is a fun little AU that just kinda swaps quirks for supernatural creatures, loosely based off of a bunch of campy halloween stuff like Halloweentown and Sabrina The Teenage Witch. Also, the werewolves have destined mates like those dumb Wattpad novels, because sometimes tropes are fun and cute. Also this is THREE TIMES AS LONG AS I MEANT TO MAKE ALL OF THESE but ive also gotten like five??? individual asks for it 😭😭😭so y’all better not let it flop.

3: kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

Though you’ve known Bakugo pretty much your whole life, there’s a lot about werewolves that you don’t know.

If he were a different person, he probably wouldn’t be telling you at 5:47 on his 21st birthday that he’s apparently supposed to figure out who his soulmate is going to be tonight. If he weren’t so closed off, even to his best friend of over a decade and a half, then perhaps you wouldn’t be having this conversation, and perhaps it wouldn’t feel quite like pulling teeth.

“You have a soulmate?” is really all you can say, because most of your mental capacity is going towards keeping the sob in the back of your throat from being audible.

“Yeah,” he grunts. He’s not even looking at you, because he’s holding his phone in one hand and he’s scrolling through it, and though the two of you are sitting on opposite sides of the couch he has your feet in his lap, free arm wrapped all the way around them like he doesn’t want you to leave. “It’s… I dunno. Kinda cool, I guess.”

“All of you have soulmates?”

“Well, yeah. You witches don’t?”

You wrinkle your nose, trying your hardest to ignore the burning at the backs of your eyes. “No. We don’t.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see him purse his lips, as if troubled by the revelation. “Huh. How d’you know who’s the one, then?”

“We just. Figure it out? I guess. Is this why you’ve never dated anyone?”

“Yeah. Not really interested in anyone but my destined.”

He says it so easily, but you know him well enough to understand. He likes the idea of a soulmate; he’s looking forward to figuring out who they are tonight. Who would have guessed that he was a romantic?

It’s awful. It makes your chest burn. You’d only come to terms with your crush on the guy two months ago. Now he’s gonna be taken from you by some random person he’s never met?

No, you suppose, he’s always belonged to them. That’s how it works, right?

“D’you know who it’ll be?”

“Hah? No, dumbass, if I did that would defeat the purpose.” Bakugo pauses, glancing over at you with just his eyes, then darting them away just as fast. It’s probably just a trick of the light, but you could swear he blushes a little as he mumbles, “I know who I want it to be, though.”

Your eyes widen and you lean up, pulling your legs back (ignoring the way his hands tense before letting them go as if he wants to hold on) so that you can kneel on them right next to him. “Who?”

“Not happening.”

“Bakugo,” you whine, drawing out the last syllable of his name.

“I’m not telling you, brat.”

You lean forward, prodding at his cheek. “Is it Mina?”

“No.”

“Jirou?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Kirishima?”

Bakugo growls out your name, a warning, but you don’t pull away, getting even closer until you’re practically draped over him.

“Todoroki?”

He grabs you, whipping towards you as his arms fly up to wrap around your waist and yank you off him, tossing you back to your side of the couch as you shriek in laughter. He’d never hurt you, you know, and roughhousing like this is hardly new in your friendship; plus, well, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been hoping to feel his big, warm hands like this. Despite all his surprises tonight, he’s still all too predictable, and you’d seen this coming a mile away.

What you don’t see coming is him pausing, braced with one arm against the couch all too close to you, holding his torso over you with his head right above yours. And he stares, those crimson eyes unreadable with an expression you’ve never seen before, locked entirely on you.

You can feel his chest rising and falling steadily against yours, and your own eyes are drawn to where his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. You’re frozen, unable to move though you’d hardly want to anyway, and it hits you like a brick what he’s really been saying the whole night.

You open your mouth to speak, but then the hazy tension is shattered by the shrill sound of his phone.

Bakugo lunges away, pulls back with inhuman werewolf speed, grabbing his phone as he leaps to his feet. “‘S my mom, sundown’s soon, I have to go.”

“Wait, Bakugo—”

“See ya tomorrow, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already half out the door.

“Katsuki,” you try, desperate, and it makes him freeze.

The door is open, his knuckles are pale with how tight he’s gripping the knob, but as much as you’ve tried it’s not enough. He’s gone without another word.

You don’t get to sleep that night.

It’s dumb; he’ll lecture you in the morning as he tells you all about his perfect amazing werewolf destined—that was what he’d called it, right? You prefer soulmate. Mate is a wolf thing anyway—who he’s spending all night with, running around in the forest howling at the moon and making out or whatever.

You stay out in the den, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped around you, ice cream in your lap, and an old movie playing that you’re not really listening to because you’ve been too wrapped up in your own head.

For an instant, you’d been so sure. A mere moment of absolute certainty that he was just as in love with you as you are him, that your oblivious pining for years was actually reciprocated. In the hours since he’d pinned you to the couch, you’d convinced yourself otherwise.

Imagine your surprise when there’s a frantic knocking at your door.

It startles you, making you jump about ten feet up in the air, and you freeze on the couch with wide eyes and a gaping mouth staring directly at the solid wood that seems to be shaking in its hinges. You’re halfway to casting a protection charm when a familiar gruff voice shouts your name from outside.

“I know you’re awake, I can hear you in there! Open the damn door!”

You glance at the time to find that it’s just under fifteen minutes to midnight. Awfully soon for him to be done, but you rise from your spot on the couch with the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders and move to let Bakugo in.

“Coming,” you say, not bothering to be loud because you know he can hear even the shifting of your clothes beneath the blanket.

He looks downright feral when you open the door, panting slightly, hair mussed up, eyes wild. But when he sees you, they light up, happy and excited like a damn puppy.

“Are you drunk?”

“Uh… kinda?”

“...Magical bullshit?”

He nods, a rough toss of his head to affirm. “Ancient rituals. Tipsy’s more accurate, if anything. Figured out who my destined is.”

“And you came to me? Shouldn’t you be with your soulmate, then?”

Bakugo blinks, clearly stunned, barking out a burst of laughter before shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ dumbass.”

You go to respond, more than a little insulted because he’s been acting so fucking weird all day and he has the nerve to say you’re being dumb, but any retort is flung from your mind as he steps forward and puts his hands on your arms.

Leaning in until your noses are practically touching, he speaks. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“H—huh?” you stutter out, heart stopping and mind reeling with his words.

“I wanted it to be you. And it’s you.” His hands slide down your arms to meet yours. “You’re my destined.”

There’s so much more to say, so much to ask him, everything ranging from but I’m a witch, how is that possible to so we could have been fucking dating this whole time but he doesn’t let you speak, clearly too overjoyed and inebriated, and you’re not entirely opposed when he yanks you in with exactly the level of roughness you’d imagine from him and kisses you.

And finally, finally, after a decade and a half of wanting to (longer than you even knew what kissing was), you can melt into him.

You believe him then, not that you particularly doubted. It’s like his lips are the missing piece to a puzzle, one you’ve been looking for your whole life. He holds you up with ease, werewolf strength coming in handy, as one hand laces with your own and the other darts to the small of your back. He’d be holding you closer, but you’re literally as close as you could be, body curving against him as his taller form hunches over you.

He kisses you far more sweetly than you’d have expected; no teeth or tongue but still all passion, heavy palm and fingers splayed across your back as the other hand pulls you and grounds you. It’s heated and it makes you forget that you’re both standing in the middle of the open front door at midnight.

You’re both reluctant to break away, you can tell because you both linger a little, bodies frozen as the kiss is followed by one, two, three more just as feverish but decreasing in length. Then the two of you pull away for real (not by much, no, he’s holding you far too intensely for you to get far) and you stumble backwards pulling him by his shirt into your home. He gets the hint, following and shutting the door behind you but not letting either of you make it very far beyond.

“All right,” you say finally, breathless both from the kiss and from giddy laughter bubbling up within you, “all right, you’re my soulmate.”

Bakugo kisses you again.

[sweettodo]

HEY BAE 😩

how about some hisoka with a tongue piercing bc JUST IMAGINE oh and what if ✨it✨ all happened on the airship just before the last exam phase 😍🙏

hey bae ! how are you? hopefully good !

lemme find out there’s hisoka fanart w a tongue piercing .... (s)creaming. i also got very much i to this because my mind is going insane over this idea.

includes : oral.

a knock on the door had awoken you, springing out of bed, glancing at the clock, still sore from today’s exam.

“three in the morning? what the-”

“hisoka...” you breathed, he smiles, towering over you, shirtless and in sweatpants with that sly fucking grin. you sigh and turn around, allowing him in, “didn’t you say you didn’t want anyone to know we were affiliated with one another?”

he shrugs, sitting on your bed, leaning back to look out the window, overlooking the sky, the dark horizon with the clouds, the stars did look bigger from up here.

“couldn’t resist, do you blame me?”

you smiled, sitting beside him on the bed and laying back down, the man looking down at you, your heart bursting into a frenzy of excitement. his eyes alone sent you head over heals.

“you’re not eyes supposed to be here,” he hungrily licked his bottom lip, the moonlight making his piercing glow and light up his smile; it was truly a sight to see, “tryna’ entice me? hisoka?” you lightly chuckled.

leaning down, twisting his body so he’s facing you, arm on either side of your shoulders, “but you love it, don’t you?” kissing down your ear to the base of your neck, chills erupting down your body, your thighs clenching together.

“no one saw me walk here, so you don’t have to worry.” he reassures.

he proceeds, one hand snaking up and under your night shirt, tips of his fingers ticking your side, he moves fully over you, your hands attaching to his waist, “what are you doing?” you whisper, he lifts up your shirt, beautiful eyes looking at how your body glowed, being so high up in the sky, it was bright enough to emit a beautiful shadow upon the man in front of you, he glowed while his body on top of yours, feeling every inch of your body.

“giving you what you love most.”

“which is?”

“my tongue, of course, you seem to love my piercing the most so,” he smirks, “lay back and be quiet.” he pulls his hands back, touching the hem of your pajama pants, pulling them down with the help of you lifting your back up so he can pull them down.

he dips his head back down, torso now between your legs as he kisses down your stomach, hands holding your sides as he continues. kissing down your belly button and to your pelvic area, “hisoka.” you groaned, lips barely touching the hem of your underwear, “hurry up.”

he laughs, “what, don’t like it?” he teases, rolling your eyes, “be patient, ive missed you since the beginning of this exam.” his fingers linking underneath your underwear, pulling them towards his face, his eyes hungry, ready to taste you again; it really had been too long, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he barely tickles your pelvic area with his nose as he pulls down you underwear until they’re at your thighs, you were glittery, hands shaky from the way he made you feel like you were on a never-ending roller coaster, he’s tossing the cloth on the ground and grabbing your thighs, holding them on his shoulders.

“so pretty,” he lets spit build up on his tongue before letting it roll down, off his tongue until it’s stringing down and hitting your cunt, his tongue following close behind with a stripe up your folds. biting hard on your bottom lip to silence you, his eyes remain on yours, boring into your face, “tastes good too.”

your hand snakes down to hold his hair, the little metal ball swirling around your clit, the stimulation from the piercing making your legs twitch, “g-god hisoka,” you moaned, head falling deeper into your pillow as he works you.

sucking on your clit, his digit slowly massaging your folds before filling your entrance, you try to surpass the moans, screwing your eyes shut with your jaw slack, “fuck- fuck.” you mewled, his finger curling, hooking into you just right, your back arching while he makes sure that his piecing is rubbing against the bundle of nerves.

fingers carding between his roots, pulling at the multicolor hair while his finger fucks into you, he pulls off of you once he sees your chest rising and falling, back arching upwards close to orgasm, still fingering you he purrs, “show me how much you missed me, i want you to cum all over me, yeah?” you nod your head, he attaches back to your core.

your thighs shook around him, the pressure from the tongue piercing making your free hand fly to your bare chest, begging for as much stimulation as possible.

trying not to cry out, his finger still deep inside you- your hole twitches and squeezes around him, “oh my god.” you cried rolling your hips against his finger as he watched you fall apart, trying to keep that feeling in your core as long as possible.

his middle finger slides out of you slowly, coated in your cum, he drags his index along with it, scooping your cream up before lifting up and peering back over you again, “taste.” he sticks his two fingers in your mouth, sucking your cum off his hand before kissing your lips, his tongue immediately slipping past your lips and meeting your own, his chin wet, his mouth tasting like your pussy. your legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him down onto you.

you pulled away from the kiss, panting for air, “god, i fucking missed you.”

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family II

Part 2: Miscommunications

A/N: part 2!! I was so overwhelmed w how much you guys enjoyed the first part, kind of made my head go blank lol. But now I rewrote it and added more ~spice. Sorry it took so long but I so appreciate all of you engaging w it! 💖

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

Sleeping in was not something that existed when you had a child and Harry learns that the hard way. By half past 7, I’m already up because of the poking on my cheeks and when I come out from brushing my teeth, I hear shouts from upstairs.

“Charlotte!” I shout up but I'm ignored. I climb the stairs and locate the door to the small voice. “Charlotte let your dad sleep!” I open the door to Charlie jumping on Harry's bed and Harry rubbing his eyes. His eyes go to mine when the door opens and he lets out a chuckle.

“Parenthood,” I sigh and try to grab Charlie from the bed. She moans to come back and wiggles her way out to run back to the bed. Harry's sitting up at this point and I blush realising he didn’t have on a shirt. I had to stop acting 12.

“I want to play!” Charlie shouts, still jumping.

“Alright you crazy monkey!” Harry grabs our daughter and whispers something to her before attacking her in tickles. She shouts for me to help but when I try to help Harry pulls me into the covers and Charlie climbs atop me to tickle me instead.

“You two sneaks!” I shout between fits of laughter but Charlie soon tires and lays beside me, her head resting on my chest. Harry lies down on the other side of her, propped up on his elbow.

“I’m just going to…” Harry grabs his phone from his bedside table and holds it above us. Charlie already loved posing for cameras, so she grins but I cover my face. “Y/N come on! One photo!”

“Fine but I get to take it,” I bargain. Harry agrees and hands me the phone, shoving in closer so our heads almost touch. I ignore the closeness and stretch the phone above us, getting my good side, and just before I click it I shout “please!” a phrase Charlie used to say when she was younger instead of cheese. It gets a giggle out of her and in the photo her eyes are squinted and her grin is pure joy. Harry is glancing at me with a faint smile on his face while my expression is stretched out in 'please.’

Suddenly the cute family photo disappears as the phone vibrates and a picture of a woman smiling on a boat appears. Harry's girlfriend. My smile curdles as I awkwardly hand over the phone to Harry. It was an abrupt reminder of what Harry and I weren’t, despite the illusion of the photo.

"Let's give your dad some privacy," I pick up Charlotte despite her protests and bring her outside.

"Who's on the phone?" She asks as I seat her on the kitchen counter. I glance at her concerned face and remember that kids were a lot more intuitive than we gave them credit for.

"His friend," I answer as truthfully as I could without breaking her heart. The weeks following our trip Charlie talked so often about having both her mom and dad together-like we were getting together forever. Even though I broke it to her gently, she still carried that flame--I didn't want to extinguish those hopes so early on.

"Is she your friend too?" Charlie asks innocently.

"Just your dad's." I kiss her forehead and then get breakfast started, so by the time Harry comes down it's almost done.

"Shit," Harry says and then glances at our daughter who's too busy with Oreo to notice his language. "I was meant to make you two breakfast your first morning here!"

"It's alright," I shrug, unable to make eye contact. "Just grab a plate."

"I feel awful," Harry joins me in the kitchen. "Have you made coffee yet?"

"No," I glance at the machine.

"I'll do that then."

"Three sugars-"

"And a drop of milk," Harry finishes. "I remember."

"Right," I flush. How odd that we keep tiny details of one another, however useless, for years after we split.

"So I sort of forgot but-"

"Mom!" Charlie interrupts Harry and I tell her it would be a minute.

"Right, well when I was talking just now w-"

"Mom! I'm starving!"

"Charlotte! Give me a minute!" I say sternly before putting the last of her strawberries on the plate. I set Charlie's breakfast up and Harry joins with our coffees. Before we even sit, Charlie begins her monologue about coffee and how she was going to drink it when she's old enough.

"That won't be for a while," I comment, glancing up at Harry who was still standing by his chair.

"I'll drink it when I'm five," she holds up her fingers and counts them down. "Then I can drink it."

Harry and I share a brief glance, him opening his mouth to say something before the doorbell rings.

"Oh sh-uh-I'll get that," Harry rushes to get the door. Charlie spills her juice in the process so I pick up the sippy cup and grab paper towels to mop the spill.

"They're right through here," Harry's voice carries over and he enters again with his...friend.

"Hi," she has a pleasant smile and hips that had obviously never carried a child. My own had never quite recovered.

"Hi," I hold up the dirty towels and quickly lower them, painfully aware of how terrible I looked. I couldn't help but compare myself to Harry's girlfriend-especially when she looked like that.

"You're daddy's friend," Charlotte says matter-of-factly.

"I am!" Her voice raises an octave as she walks towards my daughter. "I'm Miranda it's nice to finally meet you!"

Charlie looks up at me and then back to her. "Why aren't you mommy's friend?"

An awkward silence follows and I can't help but glance at Harry. He rubs the back of his neck before stepping forward towards Charlie.

"I've only just met your mommy," Miranda glances up at me with another smile but this time it's stretched too tight. "But we can all be friends! It's nice to meet you."

Charlie looks at me and I smile at her in encouragement. "Okay," she concedes before going back to her piece of toast.

"Have you had breakfast?" Harry asks her quietly.

"I had a coffee," she answers. "But we'll be late if we don't leave now."

"Have you got somewhere to be?" I ask, unaware as Harry hadn't mentioned it yesterday.

"A friend of mine has a wedding thing," she keeps glancing at Harry even though she talks to me.

"I forgot about it," Harry says. "Miranda reminded me this morning I meant to tell you but the pancake monster kept shouting for her pancakes!"

Charlie giggles and tears into another one.

"We've got to be there half past ten," Miranda says quietly to Harry.

"I'm not even ready!" Harry looks down. "I need to shower too. Give me a half hour."

"This is why I had to come early," she shakes her head at me as if we shared an inside joke. I smile knowing how fake it felt. Harry gives me a pleading look as if to say he was sorry before heading upstairs but I shake my head and go to the kitchen to wash the sticky juice off my hands. I hear Miranda talking to Charlie and stay longer than I needed to in the kitchen before heading out again.

"It was really nice to finally meet you," Miranda tells me after Harry finishes up and they get going. She bends down to high-five Charlotte. "And you too!"

"I'll see you around 5," Harry tells me. "I've left keys so you can just come and go whenever."

"I thought we were going to have lunch together," Charlie pouts, suddenly realizing what this all meant.

"I know love," Harry picks her up. "I forgot about this party I had to go to."

"You never forgot at home," Charlie's bottom lip quivers.

"Dad will be home soon," I take Charlie from Harry before the waterworks could start. "And we're gonna have so much fun together right?"

"It's bullshit!" Charlie shouts. My cheeks colour and Harry's jaw drops before he bites back a laugh.

"Charlotte!" I scold but she runs away from my arms. I meet Miranda's eyes and they're wide as saucers.

"I don't know where she...picked up on that." I say lamely. I never swore in front of her-well rarely did. She must have been listening yesterday. Harry tries to say something about it but I cut him off. "Just go. I'll deal with her."

He hesitates but leaves with Miranda who looks relieved to go. I feel bad for Charlotte, knowing how excited she was to spending her whole first day with Harry and I find myself annoyed at him too for forgetting the event and ruining the plans.

I find our daughter curled up in bed and before I could give her a warning about swearing she's wrapped her arms around my neck and shoves her snotty face in my shoulder, apologizing for saying the bad word.

"As long as I don't hear it again," I say without much conviction. I was too upset with Harry to be upset with her too.

I put Charlotte in front of the TV as I clean up breakfast and try to work through my feelings. I couldn't tell if I was more upset about Harry bailing on us or seeing him with his girlfriend; anyone with eyesight could see they had good chemistry and it bothered me. But I came here knowing he was dating somebody else and knowing nothing would happen between us. But then last night, Harry was more affectionate than he needed to be. Maybe he was working through old emotions too, I figure. Maybe I didn't need to read into every single thing.

I decide that Charlie and I wouldn't feel sorry for ourselves and dress us up to step out. I pay a visit to an old friend and we all go out to lunch-Charlie being kept company by my friend's five year old. As we head out I check my phone to see nine missed calls from Harry and a few texts asking where I was-it was already 6 and I hadn't even noticed.

I text Harry simply saying we were on our way home and listen to Charlie talk about her new friend the whole tube ride home. But once we reach Harry's flat, my mood sours. For starters, his girlfriend is still over and Harry is really upset I hadn't picked up.

"Where've you been?" Harry asks calmly but his annoyance betrays his true feelings.

"Hey," I let Charlotte down. "We were just having a late lunch with y/f/n and time got away from us."

"I've been calling and texting-you didn't hear?" Harry, surprisingly, is still trying to remain calm.

"My phone was away," I laugh off the tension noting that Miranda sat awkwardly at the dining table. "We had the keys so-"

"I was worried," Harry glances at Charlie who was preoccupied.

"You told us we could spend the day out--that's why you gave the keys," I say a little aggressively.

"I wanted-I thought we could go out before dinner since I couldn't spend the morning with Charlotte." Charlie looks up at the sound of her full name.

"I had lots of fun with my new friend," Charlie states and I could tell she was still angry at Harry with the stubborn set of her chin. She'd gotten that from me.

"Just mixed signals," I interrupt. "It's not a big deal-we just need to communicate our plans better, okay?"

"I booked us tickets for a movie," Harry's continues, his voice is definitely bordering on aggressive and I wonder why he was so upset and making such a show while his girlfriend was still here. "And dinner reservations and now that's gone to waste! Keep your phone on you if-"

"No," I say assertively to stop Harry as his voice rises. "I understand I'm living at your place because I had no choice, but you don't get to speak to me like that. We're Charlotte's parents but we're nothing to each other. Next time, don't forget your own plans and communicate to me clearly if you want to go out with all three of us. Now excuse me."

I pick my bag up again and head to the room, my eyes burning and my heart racing. I hear Charlie's little footsteps behind me and I feel guilty that it hadn't even been a day and she had to witness us arguing. Why was parenting so hard?

I stay in the room and don't come out even as Charlie heads back out again when Harry calls us for dinner or when I hear Miranda leave or a movie being put on. I stay on my laptop, working, and ignoring the slight hunger at the back of my mind.

A sharp knock on the door catches my attention. The door opens slightly and Harry stands looking the complete opposite from the afternoon.

"Hi," he lets himself in and leans against the wall. "I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to get that upset with you I was more frustrated with myself for forgetting the party in the morning and ruining Charlie's first day here. And I was upset that she was upset with me so I planned something fun with her to make up for it and it fell through too."

I stay silent for a moment, after Harry finishes. I was still upset with him. And that wasn't a good excuse to chew me out in front of his girlfriend.

"I understand that," I shrug. "But I don't appreciate the way you just came at me with all those accusations. Especially in front of our daughter and while your girlfriend was there."

"Miranda's fine," Harry says. "She wouldn't have minded-"

"I minded!" I exclaim. "Oh my god Harry I've only just met her! This isn't my house or my city and to have a stranger sit through an argument with my baby daddy is not very fun."

"Right," Harry gets it. "Sorry. I just...keep feeling like I'm fucking up everything. I wanted Charlie here and to be with her as much as I could and now I have an angry three year old. She only just started talking to me because I gave her extra dessert."

I freeze, "Harry if you gave her extra dessert you're dealing with the consequences."

"What do you mean?" Harry perches on the bed.

"She's going to stay up and be super hyper and I'm not dealing with that."

"Ugh," Harry falls back onto the bed. "This is why I need you. You can't be angry at me, I'm such an amateur at this parenting thing and you're the wise one with all the knowledge like don't give your kid a second helping of dessert."

Harry rubs his eyes from where he lays, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. I glance away, old feelings stirring up.

"Is there still dinner?" I change the subject.

"Of course," Harry shoots up. "I'll warm some up for you."

As I eat, I'm entertained first by the children's movie and then by Harry dealing with a hyperactive Charlie. She begins hopping around and jumping from couch to couch, tackling Harry and then coming my way. I pick her up and blow raspberries on her belly as she laughs.

"Tire her out quickly," I advise Harry as I go to clean up. "She'll fall asleep faster."

As I settle into bed, my heart twinges hearing the voices outside my room. It sounded like a family, like a family that could be mine. And the thought keeps me up even after the voices die down and Harry carries a sleeping Charlie into the room.

I keep my eyes closed and feel him tuck her in beside me. I sense him standing above the bed, the smell of him grows stronger as he leans over and kisses Charlie goodnight. I feel him hesitate before he presses his lips to my temple. I relive that single moment as he closes the door behind him and Charlie snuggles into me. And I start to realise that staying with Harry was one of my worst ideas yet.

[vintagedolan]

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment. 

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it. 

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks. 

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face. 

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home. 

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened. 

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile. 

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.” 

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief. 

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger. 

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York. 

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand. 

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through. 

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray. 

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts. 

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up. 

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on. 

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.” 

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart. 

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down. 

Bekah took her silence as an answer. 

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down. 

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything. 

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work. 

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them. 

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.” 

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw. 

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway. 

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her. 

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater. 

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over. 

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out. 

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him. 

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands. 

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her. 

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar. 

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated. 

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister. 

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?” 

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage. 

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.” 

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room. 

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom. 

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.” 

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together. 

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world. 

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright. 

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery. 

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in. 

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek. 

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees. 

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane. 

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room. 

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left. 

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again. 

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough. 

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?” 

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him. 

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him. 

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying. 

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep. 

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused. 

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.” 

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline. 

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.” 

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her. 

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.” 

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name. 

“His name is Devin.” 

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall. 

“Send him up.” 

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.” 

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element. 

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.” 

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.” 

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.” 

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee. 

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers. 

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA. 

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar. 

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.” 

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.” 

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done. 

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted. 

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.  

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting. 

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.” 

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce. 

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly. 

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside. 

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale. 

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level. 

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking. 

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there. 

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much. 

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

[wienerbarnes]

The Escape

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,717

Warnings: mind control ooooo, general violence, description of stealing a car that is wildly inaccurate bc ive.... never stolen a car, dues ex machina

A/N: some background about the reader! this one takes place before the last chapter of the original series, way before anything with bucky. this oneshot kinda recounts her prison escape 👀 not a lot of bucky in this one, but kind how the reader got to where she is and stufffff i love a good origin story

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

You didn’t sleep the entire night. How could you? How were you supposed to sleep when you know you’re waking up to your inevitable death?

You refused a last meal a few hours ago. What was the point? You didn’t have an appetite anyway.

All you could do was count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until the footsteps would sound down the hall, arriving at your cell, the guards would stare at you through the bullet-proof glass wall, the only wall of four that wasn’t made of thick concrete.

They’d take you down to the observation room, they’d strap you down in the chair before asking for your final words. You’d stare out into the window of the observation room, unable to see through to the otherside, but knowing there’d be witnesses there. Maybe the families of people you killed. Maybe government officials, the ones who worked as hard as possible to get you this ending.

First, the sodium thiopental would be injected into your veins to sedate you. Then, the vecuronium bromide will be given that will send your body into paralysis. Finally, the potassium chloride will stop your heart. And your life will be over.

What a shame.

Too soon, your life was wasted. And too soon did the guards feet sound down the hall. And too soon did he arrive in front of your cell, ordering you to get up from your bed to shackle you.

He’s alone, you notice. Perhaps they don’t expect you to put up much of a fight.

Something snaps in your brain and before you realize you’re even doing it, you’re tapping into the young guard’s poor brain. He was a cop. A cop turned prison guard to spend more time at home, less time out in the world trying to catch bad guys. Never really bad guys, though, always just some unlucky soul caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Open the cell.” You tell him, finally through to his head. The keys jingle as he unlocks the three complicated locks attached to the side of the door.

You’re suddenly grateful for the hundreds of times they called you crazy, they called you a psycho, they told you you didn’t have powers, that that was your sad and sorry excuse of the reason for your crimes.

“Take off your clothes.” You order next. The young man begins to strip, taking off his clothes until he’s down to his underwear. White briefs with a blue waistband.

Once his uniform is on your body, you take everything he has, leaving his pistol with him.

“Shoot at everybody that comes in here.” You tell him, and he stares at you blankly, no longer in control of his actions as you take over.

You take a moment, closing your eyes and trying to concentrate on what the prison looks like, where the exits are, and where the guards are. You peek an eye open to glance at the man’s watch that now sits on your wrist, eight minutes until the shift changes.

Eight minutes for you to not fuck this up.

You close the cell door behind you, locking it, and making your way down the hall. You need to time this perfectly so that you’re slipping out as the other guards are leaving.

Just keep your head down, and get out as quickly as possible. Don’t talk to anyone. Just get out and start walking. You’ll get to the city eventually and you’ll hide out until you can keep making your way through New York. Maybe you’ll go to Jersey. Or up to New Hampshire.

Yeah, you’re just going to walk to New Hampshire, aren’t you?

Not a priority right now. Focus on getting out. A deep breath until you unlock the gate at the end of the hall, making your way out into another hallway. You visualize the map in your head once more and keep making your way down. You walk with confidence, head still slightly tilted down, but steps quick and light. Another guard turns the corner at the end of the hall and you make sure your steps don’t falter, and he walks right by you without a second thought.

You’re still unsure about the whole mind control thing. You don’t want to question it, because it seems to be pretty useful right now, but you don’t want to abuse it either, knowing your luck will eventually fail you.

It’s not long before you hear a gunshot ring out in the distance and you glance at a clock on the wall to see the shift change happening now.

You need to get out of here, now. Soon the guards will realize it’s you who’s missing from your cell and the search will begin. They’ll start with the entire grounds of the prison, which will hopefully buy you some time to make it to the city, if you sprint.

You finally make it to a more open area, exit signs now posted at the tops of doorways. You finally find a group of other men, some with bags or coats and you slip into the crowd, hoping that these are the guys leaving from their shift.

“Hey, have a good one, man. Tell the family I said hello.” A rough hand pats your shoulder before brushing past you.

Your stomach drops at the fact that these men are so unaware. So unaware that their real friend is in your cell, probably having a shootout with the new guards who just began their shift. The fact that these guards showed up to work today and the first thing they encounter is another guard in his underwear shooting at them.

Push it back. Push it back. Push it back.

As you’re huddled in between bodies, a bright light suddenly washes over your face. Sunlight. Your eyes burn at the feeling, a feeling so foreign having not felt it in months. You force them open though. You need to separate quickly, because not only do you not know where the parking lot is, you don't know which car is yours, you don’t have keys, and even if you did, you don’t know how to fucking drive.

Why did you never learn this! You never thought you’d need to since you decided you were going to join the military at sixteen, but you still should’ve fucking looked into it!

You don’t think you’ll make it walking. It’ll draw too much attention. The prison is in the middle of fucking nowhere and you’re just going to walk home? What would be worse is if someone offers you a ride.

New plan: find your car and hope it’s unlocked so you can sit inside until everyone leaves.

You know Hydra made you break into things before; houses, cars, etc. But you’ve tried to repress so much of that time that you can’t remember if you ever hot wired a car before.

You hope your luck doesn’t run out anytime soon.

Men arrive at their cars and the options quickly narrow down between an orange SUV and a black, fancy-looking car. You take your chances on the SUV.

It’s unlocked. It’s fucking unlocked. You shut the door and heave, feeling so hard to breath in the small space, but feeling relieved at the chance to finally make some noise and express your stress outside of that group of people you were stuck around.

“C’mon. C’mon! Fight or flight, c’mon, just make me know how to hot wire this.” You close your eyes, as though that will suddenly make the knowledge appear in your head. It doesn’t, surprisingly.

Until you look in the cupholder to see a dozen bobby pins. He probably has a daughter. “It’s going to have to do.” You mumble to yourself.

You quickly straighten them out and shove them into the small spot where the key goes. You twist and turn, holding a bunch of pins together to simulate an odd shape of the key, until finally you hear a click.

That’s gotta be good! Right? You go with it, continuing to twist until you hear a sputtering and crunchy sound of the engine starting.

This guy drives a piece of shit car. But it’s fucking on! You waste no time in putting the car into the drive before pulling out the lot. You make yourself extremely nauseous at your own driving, or rather, attempt at driving. You see in the rearview mirror the lights on the prison flashing, the bright red signaling that they’ve realized you escaped. You give yourself twenty minutes before they ditch the search of the prison grounds and look for you in the city.

Down the road you alternate between driving fifteen miles an hour to sixty, finding it so difficult to get a steady control of the car. But you’re doing it! You only need to make it to the city. That’s it.

“How the fuck do they make sixteen-year-olds do this shit?”

Eventually you get the hang of it. Still a terrible driver, but you at least don’t feel as scared driving among other cars. 

The longer you drive, the more it catches up to you what you’ve done. Soon enough, the tears come and so do the sobs. Until you stop a red light and let out a yell of agony, the stress and sadness washing through your body.

It’s hard, wanting to break down completely but having to keep your eyes open for the light to change, and having to pay attention to your surroundings. You find a small alleyway to pull into and you put the car in park before ditching it.

No time to cry, you can cry later. You peek around at the name of restaurants and stores around you, not recognizing any of them. You look at the street signs not recognizing those, either. You haven’t been around society in almost ten years, and you feel hopelessly and utterly lost.

You look around the alleyway and see a big dumpster. Just for a little while, you think. You lift the lid and climb inside, shutting the lid above you.

It’s dark, greasy, and the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, but it’s somehow better than where you were. You don’t know how much time has passed, but the noise outside the dumpster grows, and you make a guess that it’s around six or seven in the morning.

If you want to blend in with the crowd, you need to change your clothes. A prison guard outfit will most definitely make you stand out to people, especially when news breaks that there's a prison escapee on the loose.

When you finally lift the lid to stand up, you look to your left to see a teenager, probably not older than seventeen, staring at you, frozen, key in hand, seemingly to open up some store that you’re in back of.

He’s tall and lanky, and what makes him stand out to you the most is the spiky black hair he sports on his head and the thick black eyeliner around the rims of his eyes.

“You… okay?” He asks, clearly confused as to why a random woman in a prison guard outfit is hanging out in the dumpster behind her place of work. But you’re frozen. You don’t know what to say. You can’t imagine the last twelve hours I’ve been through, it won’t make much sense.

“Are you… hungry?” He asks when you don’t answer. “I’m, uh, opening now, but no one will be here for another hour or two when we actually open. I can make you something if you like?” He offers.

He thinks you’re homeless. Which, you are, technically. But he doesn’t recognize you. Perhaps you haven’t made the news yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time.

You finally nod, climbing out of the dumpster bin and walking over to where he holds the door open for you.

You devour the sandwich he makes you, a simple ham and cheese on white bread, but it’s the best thing you’ve eaten in, well, a decade.

“How long have you been homeless for?”

“Are you from New York?”

“What’s your zodiac sign?”

“What’s your favorite band?”

So many questions come from the curious kid, kindness radiating from him. Casual conversation ensues, and you’re careful not to give too much away.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you swallow the last bit of sandwich.

“How do I get to Brooklyn from here?”

“You’re in Brooklyn, silly.” He responds and your eyes widen a bit, not thinking you’d get this lucky.

“Sorry, that came out kinda insensitive,” He apologizes, picking up your plate, “It’s not like you have a GPS or anything. Anywhere you’re trying to go in particular?”

You have a flash of a vision, Bucky sleeping soundly in his apartment, as the sun shines through in orange cracks in his blinds. Your mind envisions the building, where it is, what it looks like, and how you can get there. Why is your mind and body wanting to lead you to where Bucky is? If you’re trying to lay low, why does your vision want you to go to what’s the third most recognizable government figure in the country, after the President and Captain America?

“Uhm… to see a friend. I guess I wasn’t trying to go, but I have a lot of… free time now, so. Just don’t know what I’d say to him.” You tell the boy, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You’re not looking forward to the rest of the day, or week, or month, or life.

“Why don’t you write a note? That’s what I do; when I don’t think I can say the right thing, I write it instead. I can give you some paper and an envelope.” He offers.

This kid has got to be my guardian angel personified, you think. What are the fucking odds?

“You should take it with you, though. I gotta open up soon, and I’m sure you don’t want to experience the morning rush of this place.” You read my mind.

“I’ll give you a change of clothes, too. Where’d you get that, anyway? Do you hang around dumpsters often? Is that one from a Halloween store?”

“Okay, that’s too much. You’ve already been so kind.” You refuse, ignoring the curious questions that shoot out of his mouth.

“Then don’t take it as me being kind, take it as me being mean. You smell like shit from that dumpster.”

You can’t help but laugh, and oh how good it feels. You never thought you’d laugh again, and here you are, giggling at being told you smell bad by some goth teenager.

Soon enough, you’re walking through the backways of buildings, in a crisp white t-shirt that smells of the cologne of a teenage boy, and note and envelope in hand. It takes you about forty five minutes to make it to Bucky’s apartment building, and it was only slightly less stressful that your walk out of that prison.

Through the glass door, you don’t see anyone at the front desk, so you open the door and step inside.

To your left you see a wall of mailboxes, and one large one at the bottom overflowing with letters and gifts. You take a wild guess and say that that one belongs to Bucky. You’ve heard he’s a pretty popular guy, along with the company he keeps.

You take the stairs to the eighth floor and the fourteenth room, hoping the 814 on that mailbox wasn’t random. You scribble out on your piece of paper, tearing it off and keeping the rest in case you need for another note in the future, or a snack. You bite at the blue bracelet on your wrist before it breaks and stick it in the envelope, tucking in the flap to close it.

You place it on the ground and silently press your ear to the door. You don’t hear him, but you hear the sound of the television, announcing your missing presence and the manhunt around the city. You take that as a cue to leave quickly.

Why you feel such a draw towards Bucky, you’re not sure, but for some reason, you have a feeling that leaving him this gift of sorts won’t come back to haunt you.

Perhaps it’ll even lead to the opposite.

[xiaomomowrites]

act IV

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole tangent about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

Or, Zhongli and Childe finally have the conversation that was long overdue.

A/N: I’ve been playing genshin for roughly four or five months now, I can’t remember exactly when I started, but boy do I love it. No you don’t understand, I’m obsessed. But these two have been taking up room in my big brain, so I wanted to write for them. It’s been awhile since I wrote for pleasure so hopefully this is satisfactory :,) and tomorrow, I’m back to school, so I thought I’d enjoy my last day of freedom and post this today. Fun fact, I’m minoring in professional writing, so I’m hoping that it’ll improve my writing skills when I write for luxury, too. Anyway, this was a really fun piece for me to write and I hope you share the sentiment.

Also thank you guys for being so patient with our inactivity and just being such a chill audience to write for. Other social media platforms have become so...demanding haha. I appreciate y’all! Feel free to message us or talk to us about whatever :) -u.n.

Find this on AO3!

Spoiler alert: this fic does contain spoilers for the A New Star Approaches arc, so read at your own risk.

—

In Childe’s line of work, he is no stranger to betrayal.

Working as a Fatui Harbinger meant an unhealthy amount of fighting, betraying one person, deceiving another, and then on occasion, getting betrayed himself. It was all in a days’ work. Childe knew he would just have to roll out his neck and move on. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He would think that, after nineteen years of this grueling rinse and repeat, that he’d be able to tolerate a lot in the field. In fact, working with that wretched colleague of his, Scaramouche, and serving the Tsaritsa with a loyalty unmatched explicitly calls for the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Alas, Childe is the furthest thing from a saint. And still, Zhongli’s betrayal stung the most out of anyone else’s, the reason still unbeknownst to him. He tells himself that it’s because he had actually befriended the other man. That, unlike his other missions, he developed more of a friendship with Zhongli than he has with anyone else in the past. Not to mention how he really thought he’d find the gnosis, in all its golden glory, seated deep within the Exuvia, and not within his friend.

Which is why after he watches Zhongli hand over his precious gnosis to Signora of all people, Childe makes haste to return to the inn he had been staying at to furiously pack his things and leave first thing in the morning. Seeing Signora in Liyue so close to Zhongli had triggered a deep seated feeling of possessiveness over him and the city. Liyue was his territory, as far as he was concerned. It was assigned to him by the Tsaritsa and no one else. And yet, despite his unspoken possession over Liyue, its people turned against him and viewed him as the enemy. As if Childe didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t already grown up with a layered villain complex, subconsciously looking for a fool with a hero complex to match him. Then entered Zhongli, making himself at home in Childe’s life, and he was immediately enamouring the Harbinger.

Screw Liyue.

Screw all their traditions, the stupid glaze lilies, the delicious cuisine, the obvious livelihood that fills the streets in stark contrast to his own icy hometown, screw all those goddamn unnecessary mountains, that fish market with that abhorrent smell he gradually got used to, and screw Rex Lapis. Screw Zhongli, that handsome bastard, for stringing him along like his plaything the entire time.

Childe knows, he gets it, that Zhongli simply did what he had to do because it was best for his people. And what other way for the oldest of the seven to go, if not for a grand finale? And yes, Childe admits, luring out Osial was a stupid move, but it certainly served its purpose for testing the strength of Liyue and its defenders.

Zhongli and Signora knew he would do something stupid and reckless as soon as he caught wind of the Exuvia serving as a decoy. They knew, and they played the game so well, that Childe really thought he was the mastermind puppeteering the whole show.

What a fool he was made out to be.

Childe aggressively shoves blazer after blazer into his travel duffel, angry, pathetic tears pooling at the corners of his eyes without his consent. He sniffs angrily and swipes at his cheek as soon as the first tear falls.

Fuck this, he’s not crying over a god, he still has some dignity.

But still. Pride aside, it hurt. And it wasn’t even necessarily the deceit that hurt the most. He’s dealt with that previously. It was… more personal. More of an internal struggle than an external issue. Childe truly hates those the most. At least he can shove his fist through any external problem, but he can’t exactly do the same with his feelings, or whatever they’re called.

It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole spiel about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

The same eyes that gazed at him with such affection and kindness were suddenly replaced with the eyes of a soldier. And it was only then that Childe fully realized the force he was reckoning with. Zhongli was a withered god who lived too long for his own good. A powerful deity that held the ability to shake the ground with a look; he who had been humbled by time and his sharp edges eroded by the millions of faces that passed him. Simply put, Childe was just another one of those faces. And again, he understood. If he lived for six thousand years, he wouldn’t want to be alive after the first hundred.

It was the duality that dug the blade deeper into his already bleeding chest. He felt used.

“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Childe,” Zhongli had said to him on a warm Liyuen night, “a friend of mine, a long time ago, told me that I was… bad at connecting with people. Emotionally stunted, is what she called me. And she is correct, as I have definitely struggled with making connections in the past. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.

Childe is thankful for the discretion that night provides him; Zhongli would have easily spotted the blush spreading across his pale cheeks had it been daytime.

“So you had trouble making a couple friends, so what?” The ginger shrugs, “I wasn’t the best at making friends, either. My mom always said I was too aggressive. Apparently that’s not such an appealing trait, after all.”

Zhongli chuckles, a beautiful sound. “It was a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. Understanding the complexity of another’s emotions was always difficult for me, whereas she… she was loved by everyone. Adored by the youngest of fawns to the oldest of horses. It came so naturally to her. I was the opposite. Not that everyone hated me, no, people just had a harder time getting close to me. Which is why, upon meeting you, I was shocked to find that we clicked so well. Befriending you was as easy as breathing air.”

Oh, Archons, help him.

“And,” Zhongli continues, as if he hadn’t already wrecked the man six ways to hell and back, “I must sincerely thank you for indulging me once again.” The deity glances down at the bag full of antique trinkets in his lap. Childe’s lips turn upward into one of his more genuine, rare smiles.

“What’s with you tonight?” Childe responds, and Zhongli looks at him questioningly , “I mean, you never had a problem with me spoiling you rotten before. You’ve never even acknowledged it. Why start now?”

Zhongli tears his gaze away from the Harbinger.

“And,” the ginger continues, “it almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

Zhongli smiles at him then. He wore a kind look on his face, eyes so impossibly warm that it reminded him of his grandmother’s pirozhki. Hot and steaming from the center, melting on his tongue, dissolving deliciously in his mouth and defrosting his entire body. His smile felt like it wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed the best way possible, fitting him back together in places Childe didn’t even realize he had broken.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh, Childe is pissed.

Fuck tomorrow morning, Childe is leaving tonight.

The memories of last night crash over him not unlike a tidal wave and suddenly, he’s drowning. Filled out the brim with a familiar rage burning through his chest and searing his finger tips, his legs, his fucking toes.

He stands abruptly when he realizes he’s been sitting and resumes his packing. It doesn’t take very long after that. A couple toiletries get shoved into the side pockets, his vision is hooked back onto his hip, and his mask is slid into its’ usual spot on his head. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way out and scowls at the way his hair looks more disheveled than usual. Red rims his dulled blue eyes, forcing him to accept that maybe he cried more than he’d like to admit. Whatever.

He swings the door open and-

“Childe,” lo and behold, Zhongli stands in his fucking doorway, “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright.” The man looks slightly disheveled. He’s a little out of breath, Childe notices, like he ran up those ridiculous flights of stairs to get to his room- which, by the way, he never disclosed that information with him.

The man in question huffs a laugh. “It’s not.”

He makes a move to brush past him, but is stopped by an unreasonably strong grip around his bicep.

“Tartaglia,” he pleads, “please.”

Childe snatches his arm back and spits, “don’t call me that.”

He retreats back into his room anyway, hearing Zhongli close the door behind him. He dumps the bag back onto his bed and curses himself for not leaving a millisecond earlier.

“You’re angry with me.” Zhongli starts, face as unreadable as ever.

“The sky is blue. Snezhnaya is cold. Are we still stating the obvious here?” He’s too angry to carefully choose his words. Too hurt to slip on his pleasant facade.

“Tartaglia,” he presses, and Childe really hates how his name sounds on his tongue, “I truly am sorry for the way things had to go. It was not in my intentions to… hurt you to the degree in which you feel. I simply was upholding the end of my contract and doing what was best for my people. I implore you to believe that making you feel used was not my main objective.“

Oh god, his apology sounds so robotic.

“So you’re aware that what you did was a little fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that almost the entirety of Liyue places the blame on me.”

“Yes.”

Well, shit. “Good talk, Zhongli-xiansheng. If you’ll excuse me, I must begin my trip home.”

He stomps toward the door only to be stopped once again. Archons, if Childe had any motivation left, he most certainly would challenge him to a spar. The ginger huffs, and looks to the heavens in a silent plea for patience.

“Tartaglia, please, I’m not finished-“

“Yeah, well I am.” Their eyes lock. Blue meets gold in a hostile hold, refusing to break. “The second you handed your gnosis over, my business here was done. Whatever… relationship we had is done. You were my consultant and was a Harbinger here for business. A Harbinger that you obviously used for your disposal. So now that that’s over and done with, I really need to report to Tsaritsa, lest she have my head on a silver platter-“

“I spoke with Tsaritsa already.” Zhongli cuts in, his grip tightening around Childe’s wrist. “I asked her for more time with you.”

“You what.”

“Surely you are curious about the deal I struck with Tsaritsa. The contract to end all contracts, yes?” Childe’s wild look on his face eggs him to continue, “I struck a deal that granted you more time here in Liyue. With me.”

Childe is silent for a moment. The ex-Archon opens his mouth to continue.

“And I’d like to say I’ve known you long enough to know that you seek freedom. From what that may be, I do not know. But Tsaritsa has agreed to give you a choice, at the very least, a temporary one. An extended vacation or complete retirement is a choice to be made by you.” Zhongli finishes, looking to Tartaglia with hope.

“THAT is worth your fucking gnosis?!” Zhongli’s gnosis. The entire essence of his being. The very thing that makes him divine (thought it certainly isn’t the only thing that makes the man ethereal), was traded for him.

“Yes,” Zhongli replies with such ease it makes Childe’s head spin. “Among other things, of course.” An aggressive why is lodged in the back of Childe’s throat. Why me? A million questions swirl around his head, knocking him off balance. He would have swayed on his feet had Zhongli not been there to hold him upright.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. You…” Childe lets out a tired sigh, “I don’t understand you.” And he doesn’t. Because one minute he’s a cold hearted businessman, and the next he’s at his door, reduced to a mortal, begging him to stay. Granting him freedom. Really, what kind of fucked up game is this? Why didn’t anyone tell him he was a part of it?

Zhongli smiles. He smiles. “You remember our conversation from the night before, yes?”

Childe rolls his ever-blue eyes to the back of his head. “Remind me, Zhongli-sensei,”

“I said,” the deity starts, drawing both of Childe’s calloused hands between his own, “that I struggled to connect with others. Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, was the one to bring to my attention my emotional constipation. And like I said, she was correct.”

Childe’s anger withers.

“Unfortunately I understand naught of the depth of your feelings of betrayal,” he continues, “but I do wish to understand how deeply humans feel. And in our time together, I’ve begun to understand through you. Despite your… complexities. And I wish to continue to learn. With you.” I wish to feel human is left unsaid, and laced between his words instead.

“What are you saying,” the Harbinger asks weakly.

“Take me with you.”

“What.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, if you will allow it.”

Well duh, he’d allow it. Zhongli just had to work for it a little more. He can’t just waltz in here after breaking his heart and ruining his trust, demanding his friendship and companionship or whatever, after everything he was put through-

“Okay.”

Very nice ass to mouth filter, Ajax.

Zhongli’s eyes glow impossibly brighter, “Okay?”

Childe tugs his hands back to his side. “Yes, yes, fine. Whatever. But you can’t just. You can’t just use me again in the name of experimentation.”

“Tartaglia, I would never,” he assures him vehemently, “Of the seven, I was always the one most oblivious to emotions. You may ask Barbatos if you want. But I know that what I feel for you is real and I would not trade it for the world.”

Childe’s mind reels. Barbatos? Feelings?

“‘What you feel for me?’”

Zhongli cocks his head in confusion, as if his feelings were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. And you feel the same, no? It need not be said aloud.”

“It really doesn’t,” Childe affirms, “you can save me the embarrassment.”

“Wonderful,” Zhongli’s face brightens, and it’s only then that Childe is hit with the full realization that Zhongli is free. No longer is he tied to the city and burdened with the weight of the people. No longer does he have to associate himself with the likes of the Tsaritsa. Finally, after centuries and centuries, he is allowed the pleasure to smile so brightly despite feeling pained for finally leaving his people. He is Zhongli, and no longer Rex Lapis. Morax is long gone, too. The man before him is a man reborn, and Childe’s heart aches with happiness for him.

“Okay, well,” he clears his throat when he notices he’s been quiet for too long, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and turn into bed and think about the rest tomorrow. Save it for future Childe, you know?”

He pads over to his hastily packed back and zips it back open, pulling out the toiletries he aggressively shoved in less than an hour ago. He digs his fingers into his neck and sighs at the release of tension. Summoning an angry ocean god took a lot more out of him than he anticipated.

“I agree,” Zhongli says, and begins to strip. “Personally I prefer the left side of the bed.”

Childe gawks at him.

“You-!” Truly an emotionally constipated god, indeed. He sighs and his shoulders droop, the fight leaving his body. “Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“I eagerly await your return,” Zhongli comments passively as he slips under the covers, a book he didn’t even know he was carrying tucked under his arm. Childe sighs for the nth time that night and turns to close the bathroom door behind him.

Future Childe certainly has a lot to deal with in the morning.

[echoghost1]

Forget Your Life Story

Word Count: 1836 For: @ecto-american

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

Summary:  Danny woke up with no memory. He didn’t even know his own name. The doctor told him it would come back and his parents were there to help him. He trusts them, even if he doesn't recognize them. Even if some things didn’t quite line up.

Edit: I added a summary

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but white. White ceiling. White walls. White sheets.

He wrinkled his nose finding it all very unappealing.

He tried to sit up but a sharp pain in the crook of his left arm stopped him.

There was movement to his right, a nurse walked into the room and stopped when she saw him looking at her.

"Oh! You're awake!"

He tried to talk, but his voice cracked and died on the way out. He had so many questions bubbling inside him but all he could do was make faces and grunt in a vain attempt at being understood.

She nodded as she checked the different machines and equipment around him as if he was actually making any sense. "Don't worry dear, your doctor will be here soon and explain everything."

He was surprised that worked.

It wasn't long before the doctor came and informed him that he had been in a coma for a month.

Then the doctor asked what he remembered.

He thought for a moment.

Then a little longer.

He figured falling into a coma would be more memorable. Since he had nothing, he just shrugged at the doctor.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember what happened.” the doctor reassured.

He nodded then bit his lip as a question popped in his mind that he wasn’t sure how to answer. Or how to ask.

“Something on your mind?” the doctor asked as if he could read his thoughts.

“It’s just,” he hesitated as he tried to word it right, “someone is waiting for me right? Someone’s here that can take me home?”

The doctor looked concerned, "Your parents are just outside. Did you want me to get them now?"

He nodded and the nurse took the opportunity to remove the IV in his arm.

A couple walked into the room and they smiled at him.

He looked from them back to the doctor.

"You don't recognize them do you?"

"I'm sorry." He felt awful. What kind of son forgets his parents. As if he didn't put them through enough already with the coma.

The nurse placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze.

“I was worried about that.” the doctor muttered to themselves before addressing the room, “It’s not uncommon for cases like this to lead to memory loss. But luckily ‘loss’ is a bit of a misnomer.”

His parents, he supposed, relaxed, but he was still confused. He didn’t know what that word meant. He figured he might as well ask.

“In this case, it just means that ‘loss’ doesn't mean ‘gone forever’. It’ll take time, but your memories should come back to you.”

He relaxed into the bed. That was really good news. “Is there a way to make it work?

“Not exactly. This isn’t something you can force.”

He slumped into the pillows more.

“But, I can give you some advice.”

He perked back up, hopeful.

“It will come in bursts and waves. The things around you will trigger memories. Sometimes it’s smells, other times it’s sounds. The memories might just be feelings or vague impressions and other times they might be full-on movie-style productions. It all just depends.” The doctor pulled up a chair next to the bed, “Your memories are like puzzle pieces that got knocked to the ground from a high table. It’s going to take time and a little help to find them all and make sense of the picture they make, but it’s not impossible.”

Then they asked if he remembered his name.

He didn’t.

His mom told him it was, Danny.

“Danny,” he repeated a few times with different inflections just to see how it felt. If it fits.

He nodded, satisfied that it did.

==============================================

It was odd that he needed a tour in his own house when he got there. He’d been expecting it, but he had been a little hopeful that it would at least seem a little familiar once he saw it again.

On his first night home, he had a weird dream. It wasn’t scary, just odd. He decided to tell his mom about it in the morning. The doctor had mentioned that his memories could surface in dreams and it was important to talk them through.

He sat at the kitchen table while his mom made coffee.

“There was this girl in my dream last night. She knew me. I guess I knew her too. I knew her name in the dream, but now I can’t quite remember it.”

“Oh?” his mom turned to him as she stirred her sugar in her mug. “Do you remember what letter it was? Or if it rhymed with another name?”

“I think it had to do with music? But that doesn't make sense, does it?”

His dad came in, kissed his mom on the top of her head as he reached for his mug, “Maybe it was Melody?” he guessed, “That’s a musical name.”

“Do I know a Melody?” he asked despite the name not sounding right at all.

“I don’t think so. Unless you met them at school.”

“That or you saw them in a movie.” his dad sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know the doc said you might have dream memories but that doesn't mean they all are. Some dreams might just be dreams.”

“Yeah I know,” Danny sighed, “But it just felt so real, you know?”

==============================================

It wasn’t until a few days later that he heard his parent’s names. They were waiting in the doctor’s office for a check-up on his progress when it happened.

“Matilda and James Fairchild,” The receptionist called, “the doctor is ready for Danny now.”

He dropped the magazine he was holding as the names buzzed around in his brain.

Matilda?

“Maddie.”

His mom turned to him confused, “What?”

“I thought your name was Maddie?”

She hesitated for only a second before recognition lit her eyes, “That’s what my mom called me. You remember Grandma?”

He shook his head. So far he hadn’t remembered anyone. “Just the name.”

His dad picked up the magazine off the floor, “It’s okay, Champ. These things take time. I’m sure you’ll have it all back soon.”

He knew that. He really did.

It just didn’t stop it from being so frustrating to be so close and yet so far.

==============================================

It wasn’t until he was alone with his therapist that she asks how it felt to hear his parent’s names. If they felt familiar like his own name had.

“Sort of. Like I’m trying to watch a 3D movie without the glasses on. I can tell what it is but it’s still a little off.” he leans back in his seat and continues, “the weird thing is when I have dreams about my parents I don’t see them as they are. I just see colors.”

“What colors do you see?”

“Teal and orange. Orange for dad and teal for mom.”

“That’s an interesting way to see them.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t like those dreams.”

“Why not?”

“Because they aren’t dreams.” he pulls his knees up to his chest in the chair but knew he couldn’t back out now. He has to just power through it so he can get better.

So he can remember.

“They’re nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“The orange one always towers over me. He’s so impossibly tall. The teal one has sharp hands, claws like razors. They’re always so angry. Always yelling at me. Calling me a monster.”

“Those two don’t sound like your parents at all.”

“I know! That just makes me even more confused.”

“Well, why don’t we try to reassociate your parents with something nicer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you’re dreaming them as colors, why don’t we pick new colors. Or maybe something else altogether?”

“Books,” he said simply. “Mom’s like a library full of books.”

“Nice, safe, and quiet. That’s a good comparison.” she notes it before looking up at him again, “and your dad? What’s he like?”

“Peaches? No, bugs.” he corrected then added quickly, “but not in a gross way, in a friendly way.”

The therapist squeezed her lips together in a tight line to suppress herself. She quickly covered her mouth and apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I think I know what you’re thinking of.” she composed herself, “you’re making literary associations. Which is fine, and honestly still works for what we’re trying to do here, but I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“Literary associations? What do bugs have to do with books?”

“Your parent’s names are the same as book characters in a couple of children’s stories.” Then she smiled fondly, "you know both of those stories have some themes in common. They're about kids who are raised in not-so-nice places, with bad caretakers, who escape from their dangerous homes and find new families. Find people who love them just as they are. Like family should."

He smiled and wondered if it meant anything that his parents' names were the same as stories with happy endings. "Do you think they love me like that?"

He wasn't sure why he was asking. He certainly hoped they did.

She laughed good-naturedly, "of course they do."

"But how do you know?"

Why was he so uncertain?

"It's the little things. You'll see."

==============================================

After he talked through his nightmares he stopped having them.

He was really glad he gave this therapy thing a try. Even if a part of him is still a little uneasy about it. Almost like he’s done something like it before.

But he knows he hasn’t. He had asked his mom and she said no.

Even if he was still having dreams about Melody. Or whatever her real name was.

He also had dreams about another person. Someone else who seemed to know him and dream him recognized. Although he wasn’t sure if they were one person or two. He wasn’t sure what to call them. Eventually, he called them Sawyer.

He figured he would continue with the literary theme. He wasn’t sure why he was so familiar with titular characters, but it felt right.

He didn’t tell his parents about Sawyer.

He wasn’t sure why.

Why he had an urge to hide this from them even though they’d done nothing but love and support him.

But keeping a secret from his parents felt familiar. He just wasn’t sure what secret he used to keep.

==============================================

It had been months and his memory was still a little spotty, but he was managing. He may not be sure about everything in his life but there were things he was sure of.

His name was Danny Fairchild.

His parents were Matilda and James. He got his dark hair and fair skin from his father while his mother passed on her blue eyes and button nose.

They lived in the small town of Salem City.

Due to his memory loss, he was home-schooled.

And most importantly of all, his parents loved him and he felt safe.

[eberles]

i hate u, i love u

Rafe Cameron

(gif by @toesure :)

Request: A Rafe fic based on the song “I hate u, I love you” by gnash (ft Olivia O’Brien) PLEASE MAJOR RAFE VIBES 🥺💖 @fav-imagines

A/N: I wanted to cry writing this lol idk why but it hit me right in the feels!! it’s kind of all over the place, if anyone is confused by, don’t worry bc i am too!!!! lol anyways enjoy!! (this is probably the first thing ive ever written that goes with rafe’s character) bold = lyrics, italics = flashbacks

Warnings: angst, mentions of drugs, cheating, lying, toxic relationship, swearing

feelin used, but im still missin you and i cant see the end of it just wanna feel your kiss against my lips and now all this time is passing by, but i still cant seem to tell you why it hurts me every time i see you, realize how much i need you

I’ve spent months sitting in my room staring at the ceiling, and at the walls. I did a full Bella Swan from New Moon and let 3 months go by without being present for any of them. I didn’t care honestly...Even after spending all that time alone, i’m not still not healed from the heartache that was caused by him. I still miss him, his scent, his kisses, his clothes, everything. Rafe.

I went out once and he was the last person I wanted or planned to see, but of course, he was the only person I actually saw. Sure, there were other people around, but none of them mattered. Everyone else felt greyed out except for him. He was the only light I could see in those short moments. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, my breath hitched in my throat and it felt like there was no air left to breathe.

After months it still hurts to see him again. It hurts because I realized I still need him even after everything. I hate him. So why do I love him? The feeling of him being the only one I want, the one nobody could ever replace...it’s overwhelming and I can’t seem to shake it. But me? He replaced. It looked like it was easy from my point of view. He needed her, wanted her, and i’m not her.

i miss you when i can’t sleep or right after coffee or right when i can’t eat, i miss you in my front seat, still got sand in my sweaters from nights we don’t remember. do you miss me like i miss you? fucked around and got attached to you.

My head was consumed on thoughts of you. It was constant. Like the leaky faucet in the bathroom or the loose floorboard. Always running, always broken. I miss you. Maybe you’ll come around, but for now...I wish you were here instead. When it’s late and I can’t sleep, I think about you. When it’s early and I can’t eat, I think about you.

“Where are we going?” you giggled excitedly, grabbing my hand from across the console in my truck.

“Shh, I told you it’s a surprise baby, we’re almost there anyways.” I laughed at her giggling like a kid, she had so much excitement in her eyes. She was always ready for anything, even if it was 2 in the morning and I love that about her. I love everything about her.

“Ugh fine!” she groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes in a full circle looking up at the ceiling. “Why are we at the beach?” you didn’t even give me enough time to answer before jumping out of the truck and running towards the sand laughing the entire way to the water. Once I caught up with you, I grabbed your hands and pulled you close into my chest, kissing your forehead. When we broke apart I laid down a few blankets on the sand, noticing you were cold, I also gave you my sweater.

We stared at the stars and talked about anything and everything for hours. It felt magical. We stayed until the sun came up, watching the sunset before driving back to my house for some much needed rest.

Walking over to my closet, curious to know if that same sweater ended up back in my closet after that night. I reached in, digging around not finding anything and decided to look in my dresser instead. Of course, it was folded neatly in the drawer you used to call yours. Grabbing and shaking it out I noticed the light pieces of sand that fell from it. I brought it in to my nose wondering if it still smelt like your perfume. It did. I’m always tired lately, but never of you. Do you miss me too?

if i pulled a you on you, you wouldn’t like that shit, i put this reel out, but you wouldn’t bite that shit. i type a text then i never mind that shit, i got these feelings, but you never mind that shit. you’re still in love with me but your friends don’t know.

To Y/N: i wanna talk, i think...maybe i miss y-

*delete*

To Rafe: I miss you so much, it hurt someti-

*delete*

“Y/N...what’s going on? You’re off in never never land! Do you still miss him?” Kiara asked, gently shaking my knee to gain my attention back to the group. I looked at her and around at the rest of the pogues and put a smile on my face, shaking my head.

“Of course not, it’s been months! I’m so over him, guys. Besides even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.” I tried so hard to sound confident. I hope they bought it. Of fucking course, I miss Rafe. I’m still in love with him for gods sake. I hate that I want him.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Sure, i’ve moved on, but I think about y/n, just about everyday. I guess for me, moving on is finding someone new, but not actually wanting anyone new. I just couldn’t bare to be alone anymore with my thoughts. I deserve better than that, personally.

“Anyways Topper, if y/n wanted me still, she would say so right?” I looked at Topper, silently hoping he would lie to me, just tell me what I want to hear, man. “If I were her, I would’ve never let me go. She’s missing out.”

“Hell yea, dude! That’s the right attitude.” Topper said, jumping up to high five me. Of course, that was the statement he was on board with. I hate that I want you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

I haven’t been to a party in months, Kiara and Sarah thought that this would be the most fitting post-break up activity for me. Maybe meet a new guy or something. I tuned out when they were telling me about it and just agreed. What I neglected to listen to, was that it was a kook party. So now, i’m at a party alone, since my friends ditched me to dance with each other. And on top of that, I watch him watch her, like she’s the only girl he’s ever seen.

It took less than an hour of being at this party for us to end up in a room alone together.

“You don’t care! You never did!” Rafe shouted, running his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated with this conversation. I don’t even know how it started. One minute I was watching him with another girl, and the next he was hauling me off, away from everyone.

“You don’t give a damn about me, Rafe! How is it you never notice that you’re slowly killing me?” you wanted to yell back at him, to scream at him for putting you through this again, but you couldn’t. He didn’t say anything in return so you continued, “I hate you, and I hate that I love you, Rafe.” I’ve tried to move on, but even the simple thought of dating anyone but him, makes me physically ill. Why does it have to be like this?

“I don’t mean no harm, I just miss you on my arm, babe. Do you ever wonder what we could’ve been y/n?” He’s taunting me by asking dumb questions, as if I wanted this to happen, as if i’m the cause of all of this. Rafe’s the one that was closed off, not me. Of course, he switches the stories and i’m sure everyone at this damn party thinks I left him heart broken.

“You have a girlfriend, why are you even asking me that?” I was starting to get angry, I felt like he was toying with me.

He’s laughing. Of fucking course, he’s laughing at me. This is all one big fucking joke to him. “Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix. Isn’t that what you always told your friends Rafe?” I was furious, how could he act that way after everything? He’s still a child though, that will never change.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You were right. I did lie to you, multiple times. About where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I didn’t want you to know I was such a fuck up. You didn’t deserve the pain of finding out I was lying and cheating and drugging. You did anyways though. Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed.

“Rafe! Come dance with me!” I downed the rest of my drink before throwing the glass down and walking away from the new girl I was seeing. I didn’t care anymore.

I don’t want you, Y/N. I shouldn’t fucking miss you. I don’t deserve to! Seeing you again is such bullshit. If you wouldn’t have shown up here, I wouldn’t have said those things to you. Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges, just to create some distance. You didn’t deserve that, I knew it, but at least now you might learn your lesson and stay away. It’s for the best, right?

I hate that I love her, but I can’t put nobody else above her.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

I wasn’t sure if I had the closure I needed, but after that particular conversation with Rafe I felt a little better. I returned to the party with my head held high and danced with my friends. I hoped he was watching me too since i’m not sure what he was trying to do by joking around at my expense. But maybe if he thinks it didn’t bother me he will know how it fucking feels. 

I learned from my dad that it’s good to have feelings when love and trust is gone. I guess this is moving on. I hate you, I love you.

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

[burnedbyshoto]

Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?” 

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.