#like that’s not even the worst it’s been sixty one day and then the next literally 30 degrees cooler and icy

[kurooscopy]

a/n (ada's notes) - just a short one (~800) to get back into things. selfship coded yearning, timeskip!kuroo, reader is referred to as "lady"

- ᓚᘏᗢ

kuroo tetsurou is not a snuggler in the mornings.

even though he has the volume turned down low, you always find yourself stirring when his alarm goes off in the early hours of the morning. the curtains are shut, but you know it's still dark out, just as it is every time he extricates himself from your grip and slides out of bed.

for the first few minutes, you pretend to be asleep - maybe you'll be convincing enough to trick your body, too. you listen to the rustles of papers and clothes as he shuffles around the room quietly. but then there's a heavy bump, followed by a curse, and your act is broken with a muffled, bleary giggle.

kuroo feels his way over to you through the dark, patting along the mattress until his hand finds the lump under the covers that is your leg. then, his lips find their way to your forehead - or rather, your eye. another giggle.

"sorry," he murmurs, still half asleep himself. "tried to be quiet."

"come back." you stretch your arms out for him, seeking his warmth. not even the best sleeping impression in the world could make up for the loss of his body next to yours.

he huffs the tiniest laugh. "don't say that, or i'll never leave."

and he has to, you know he has to. it's barely been a couple months of him at the jva, but he loves this job. you can see it in his eyes as you talk over dinner, or when the both of you work together in the home office, keeping each other company. you know he loves this job.

as he takes your hand and kisses over your knuckles, each and every one getting its own small affection, you know he loves you too.

so instead of telling him to come back, you whisper a quiet "have a good day," and softly pinch his cheek. he pretends to nip playfully at your fingers.

"it'll be better once i get home."

you don't feel him for a bit after that, drifting in and out of sleep as he, presumably, raids the kitchen and tames his hair and does all the other things he needs to get ready for the day.

by the next time he appears at your side, it's sunrise. his hand brushes over your cheek, cold from the water of the sink rather than the residual warmth of the sheets.

he presses a kiss into your hair. "see you tonight, baby." roused, you roll over to face him.

he laughs softly at the way you crinkle your nose when his tie tickles your face. he rubs his thumb over the crease in your brow until it disappears. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and he wraps his arms around you.

kuroo's always been an early bird, but maybe somewhere deep down, he yearns for the art of the morning snuggle.

"love you," you mumble into his neck. slowly, he leans in further until his full weight lies comfortably on top of you. your favourite blanket.

"i love you, too."

it could be sixty seconds or sixty minutes that you lay there together, savouring the last moments of comfort before facing the day. all you know is it's never long enough. not with him. he trails little kisses along your jaw and behind your ear, not caring that your hands clutching him tighter will wrinkle his shirt or mess up his hair.

then, it ends, as all good things do. he pulls back for one last kiss - a real one this time - and you hold him by the collar so he can't run away from you too quickly.

you're too busy contemplating that he tastes like toothpaste to notice his fingers creeping up your sides.

tickling, he's found, is the only thing that gets you to push him away instead of pulling him closer. and if he must leave you, grumpy and sleepy and reluctant as you are, he'd rather hear a squeal of laughter before he goes.

"begone," you manage to wheeze once he lets up on his assault, holding a defensive arm out in front of you. "you're the worst." you can just make out his grin in the dim light creeping through the window.

"you're not a very good liar, baby."

"hmph. bring melonpan from that place near the station on your way home."

"whatever the lady wants." he shoots you a wink before slipping out the door, and then he's gone.

but his smooth cologne that rubbed off on your cheek lingers for the rest of the morning, a lasting kiss to tide you over until you're finally back in his arms.

[arcadekore]

The Midwest is something else what do you mean last week it was almost 70 degrees and it’s going to snow up to 8 inches tomorrow

[natalievoncatte]

“Kara?”

She doesn’t answer. Lena’s presence doesn’t surprise her; Kara Danvers always knows where Lena Luthor is, at least as long as there’s a way for the sound of her heart to find Kara’s ears, no matter how soft or faint it might be. In her ruminations Kara thinks on that before she speaks. Even when they were at their worst, when they were hurting each other in every way that mattered, Kara would stop and listen.

It was a secret and sacred thing, a transgression that she would never admit. She would confess to scoping Lena out with her x-ray vision first. She’d never actually done that, but she’d pretend-admit before confessing that, sometimes, she’d listen to Lena’s heart as she slept and drift off to its slow and steady beat.

They’re by the sea, at the Danvers family home. It’s been a year since Alex and Kelly married and a small, core group have gathered here in this house by the waves to celebrate the anniversary. It’s just Alex and Kelly of course and Esme, and Lena and Kara. And Eliza.

She lives here, after all.

Nia and Brainy are in town in an AirBnB, and they’ve been by the house but are mostly doing their own thing. They’ll marry soon, Kara thinks. They have that air about them, the way that Alex and Kelly did before the proposal.

There is a sense of finality to it all that has fallen over Kara like the shadow of a passing storefront, and she sits where she can watch the ocean waves roll in, chin propped on arms resting on knees, curled up and watching the waves reach the high water mark and roll back.

Lena stands beside her now, seemingly unconcerned that Kara hasn’t answered her. This happens a lot now. There are companionable silences. Lena spends half her days in Kara’s home, working from a laptop on Kara’s kitchen counter while Kara writes at the kitchen table.

A lot has happened. Cat Grant offered her the role of EIC at CatCo; Kara rejected it. She’d mad furtive plans to reveal her identity, then canceled them. She’d told Cat but asked that it end there and Cat had respected it, then gone on an esoteric retreat at an eel farm or… something. Kara still submitted articles to CatCo but on a freelance basis, and she was submitting more articles elsewhere lately.

Actually, very little had happened. Kara had more time to really write, now. She put on her suit and flew out the window less and less, being less needed.

Lena sits down next to her and assumes a similar pose. Kara can’t help but look at her; she has never been able to resist looking at Lena Luthor. That too has changed. She doesn’t steal a glance this time, she studies, lets her gaze linger. She looks at the way the light of the golden hour plays with Lena’s soft, easy beauty. Her sort-of-roommate skipped putting on makeup this morning and her hair is down in a mop of air-dried dark curls, some of them lazily riding the breeze around her head. Some of it falls across her face and Kara fights the urge to sweep it back with a soft brush of her fingers.

Lena is beautiful. The warm light makes her pale skin glow, brings out the sparkle in her blue-green eyes, as deep as the sea they watch. There is a soft playful hint of a smile on her lips, but her brows are furrowed.

Kara thinks back to the last time she spoke to J’onn. She told the man, the closest thing she had left to a father in the world, about how she was wearing the cape less and working more, about Lena, about how Alex and Kelly seemed to be moving on, both of them now retired from the insanity of her lives and Alex actually planning to practice medicine.

“That’s what happens,” J’onn told her. “Things pass. Stories end. The great deeds are done, the archenemies vanquished, the miracles all performed. After that is just life.”

Kara wasn’t sure what that meant. In her life -almost sixty years, that she’d experienced as less than thirty- she’d packed in the experiences of a hundred lifetimes. She’d watched her world die, found her family, lost them, made a new one. She’d loved and lost and she’d even died- twice. She’d spent two eternities in her own personal hell.

Kara lets out a slow sigh. She’s still looking at Lena.

They have to have this conversation. Kara just doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. The problem is obvious. Lena and Kara had arrived this morning a few hours after Kelly and Alex, and found that Eliza had, as to be expected, already planned out who was bunking where.

“Alex and Kelly have Alex’s old room,” Eliza had told them, after hugging Lena. “Esme has Kara’s old room, and you and Lena can take the guest bedroom.”

When the words left her foster mother’s mouth, Kara’s heart raced. If Lena thought anything of it, she gave no sign. Kara was on the verge of panic.

Eliza had given the two of them a room with one bed. A small room, a shared room that would give two people no privacy.

Does she think we’re…?

Kara had considered the possibility before. She wasn’t blind or oblivious to a fluttering heart beat or lip bites or long stares, but…

“I’m scared,” Kara says, and she looks away.

She can feel Lena looking at her, gaze unwavering.

“What about?”

Kara swallows hard. She doesn’t know if Lena realizes what Eliza has assumed yet, if she’s put it together. She must have, because she came out here looking for Kara. Kara hadn’t run away exactly, but she had fled. She needed to think.

“One thing I’ve learned,” Kara says, “is that once you say something, you can’t un-say it. You can’t change the truth once it’s been told.”

Lena nods softly. She knows. They learned the same lesson from the same cruel trick.

“Do you know why I held on to my secret for so long?”

“You always said it was to protect me, and I didn’t accept that. Then when…” Lena pauses heavily, “when we moved on, I never really asked again.”

Kara swallows. “I lied. I did it for me.”

Lena says nothing.

“I was scared. I was afraid that once I told you, it would be the same with you as it was with everyone else. Once people know Kara is Supergirl, then Kara stops being Kara. Kara is just Supergirl’s real name.”

Kara’s breath hitches. She glances at Lena, who watches intently.

“I was wrong. I should have known better. I should have trusted you.”

“Yes,” said Lena. “You should have. I should have tried to understand you. To understand why instead of projecting my own insecurities onto your choice. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I forgave you.”

Waves crash in the silence.

“I would forgive you anything.”

“Even beating the last potsticker?”

“I’m serious, Lena.”

Lena sighs. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“You saw the room.”

Lena nods.

“Your mom seems to be assuming that we share a bed,” Lena says.

Kara swallows hard.

“The last time I was with Nia, she asked when I’m selling the penthouse, because she assumed I’ve been planning to move into your loft.”

Kara groped her knees because her hands are shaking. She grips her knees to stop them but it makes her legs shake instead.

Lena shifts closer, scooting across the grass. She’s not touching Kara but it feels like she is. Her touch becomes and threatens. They share space, the sea breeze passing over them as one. Lena looks at her through a tangle of inky curls and her eyes are infinite, searching Kara for something.

“I have deemed a dream,” Kara whispers. “I fear if I dream it too deeply I’ll suddenly wake, and when I wake it’ll be gone the way dreams always are, and it will fade as fast as any dream. The thought of losing it hurts so bad it makes it feel like my chest is caving in.”

Kara looks at Lena now. She looks so young, she is young. Her power suits and makeup and air of command and defiance all make her seem almost matronly but here with Kara that mask is gone and beneath it is her true self, her secret self that not even their friends see, a young girl who’s never been young.

Just like Kara.

“What if you woke up and the dream came true?”

“Sometimes,” Kara admits, “I wonder if you’re real. I used to dream of things when I floated in my pod and they seemed so real…”

“It’s real, Kara,” Lena whispers, soft and breathy. “It’s real and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing has to change. It’s just going to evolve. I know what you want to say and I’ve been scared of it too. What you’re saying, I can feel it in my soul… when the Luthors took me in, I used to dream that my mom was alive. I’d wake up smelling breakfast and hearing her sing and when I realized it was just a dream it was like she died again every morning.”

“I love you.”

Lena stares at her. Kara hears Lena’s steady pulse flutter and begins to stammer.

“I know I’ve said it before. I mean I’m in love with-“

Lena presses a finger to her lips.

“I know. Stop telling me and show me.”

Kara freezes, not sure what she meant. Lena twisted languidly and leaned towards her. Kara freezes briefly and then just lets go, moving on instinct. Using a little strength she pulls Lena into her lap, gently touches her chin, and tilts her back a touch, to kiss her.

It is at once tentative and soft and absolutely explosive. Kara forces back tears, as Lena embraces her with all her strength, molding herself to Kara as if she means to climb inside her. For all her urgency, her kiss is just as delicate, just as tender and exploratory.

It is as it has always been. They compliment each other perfectly, moving together without a word needed, Kara breaks the kiss because Lena needs air and lowers her to the grass, fully on top of her now, brushing lose strands of hair back from her face to kiss her again and again and again, each kiss ah apology, each brushing of lips a lament for time lost.

They could have been doing this for years.

Lena arches under her, grinding hungrily, kissing her furiously. She moans softly as Kara’s hands find bare skin and Kara murmurs a Kryptonian prayer against her lips, and her thighs rise to bracket Kara’s hips.

Kara feels it all. The desire, the lust, the need, and above all the unbridled joy. This is no dream. It’s real. It’s happening. It’s…

“Eww,” Alex says.

Kara snaps up, acutely aware that her hand is halfway up Lena’s now-askew top, and that Lena has leg-locked them together. Lena lets her head fall back and peers up at Alex.

“Eliza sent me to find you two. Dinner is ready,” Alex sighs, then turns, muttering,

“Get a room. Sheesh.”

Lena cracks first, unleashing a gale of laughter.

“Let me go,” she protests.

Kara lets her…. briefly. Play-wrestling ensues, and Lena just know that Kara is letting her win as they roll in the grass, but it no longer matters. Lena is flushed and grass-stained and joy burns her in her eyes and-

“Come on!” Alex bellows.

Kara helps her up, and they head for the house.

[kisses4kaia]

god college!luke makes my emotions go haywire 😡😩 i’d honestly start dating someone else to spite him

you know what anon. ima need you to claim an emoji bc ur thoughts are TOO GOOD (also thank u sm for 1.5k💋)

so we’ve discussed previously that luke castellan does not get jealous easily.

however.

he never thought you would go this far. sure, you had danced on other guys at parties to get a rise out of him, maybe flirted here and there in front of him, but never this.

getting into a relationship—a serious relationship—with his frat brother? that was a new low. so what if he’d purposefully lead other girls into gross bathrooms at bar outings so you would see? this was uncalled for. how dare you?

so naturally, at your new boyfriend’s birthday party, when you’re sitting on his lap, helping him unwrap your present of a jean-paul gaultier cologne he’d wanted, luke—in classic luke fashion—thought this would be his chance. your sorority sister, drunk off of her wits—bless her heart—came up to you and whispered some slurred imperative about how you needed to get to ‘the square’.

your eyebrows furrowed at her as her eyebrows raised, questioning the significance of ‘the square’ and why the man who prompted her to ask chose there. you said no words, excusing yourself after finding her a water and alka seltzer.

“you really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” are the first words you say to luke, button up shirt open and lying on his back on the false grass. “me? you’re one to talk, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes at his use of the nickname, crossing your arms as you stand over him.

beneath the twilight, your exposed shoulder skin glistened like the moon, just a sliver of it visible in the northern night sky. luke had obviously had something to drink or smoke, or both, because he slurred his words as he patted the turf next to him. “sit down. c’mon, like the good ol’ days,”

‘the square’ was a small patch of land in the middle area between his frat’s and your sorority’s backyards. it was insignificant to most everybody else, but you and luke had claimed it as yours on drizzly nights like these, when the owl called and adolescence snored. it didn’t even hold sexual reminiscences, for each night you spent on the square was spent just talking. he would gloat about some things he did over the summer, interrogate you on your sex life, laugh at your offense and crack bad jokes. he was the worst person to spend valuable time with, but you returned every night, nonetheless.

“i’m surprised, castellan. been here a full sixty seconds and you haven’t tried to fuck me,” you remained standing over his lax body, crossing your arms over your chest. “do you want me to try to fuck you? because i’m down,” he looks up at you with that smile of his. that toothy, million dollar, smile that reassures whomever it is on the receiving end that everything is okay and there’s not a thing to worry about.

you snort, giving in and sitting down. luke pulls you into his lap before your butt can even hit the cool grass, eliciting a yelp from you. his lips press against your shoulder, strong, warm arms wrap around your waist and you can’t help but melt into the body beneath you. “luke,” your voice is meant to be a warning, supposed to remind him and yourself that you belong to another and this was not right, but he did nothing except for hold you tighter and smile against your skin.

“he doesn’t make you feel like i do.” he spoke the words out of your mind, the voice of truth you swallowed down with a knowing conscience that it would rise to the surface eventually. this wasn’t what you wanted. your single goal wasn’t to make luke jealous, it wasn’t even to show him what he was missing. you just wanted it to be different. you wanted somebody to take you seriously enough to call you theirs.

but anybody who did wasn’t him.

“luke,” this time, you weren’t trying to ward off anything. this time, you were welcoming him and all his invasive, rude, luke-like, traits and the pain you knew would come with letting him in once more. “i know, baby, i know.” he said no further words before flipping the pair of you over and letting your back onto the ground. you focused on none else other than the feeling of his lips finally landing on yours, the trace of his fingers across your denim skirt’s hem. “can i?” luke’s fingers dipped past the fabric, drawing swirls on your skin. “mhm, yeah,” your smile is audible and spreads to luke’s lips.

if there was one thing luke always did, it was worship you. this time was no different. his lips were everywhere, and when they weren’t pecking kisses all over you, he was breathing praises like you were a mortal saint against your skin. and when he entered you, he fucked you like he couldn’t believe he got the chance to feel you again. but he knew what the outcome of this would be; of course he did.

you didn’t know him as a particularly selfish lover, but the way he chased his high, rutting his hips against yours to the point of overwhelmed stuttering suggested that to be true.

and when it was all said and done and the past hung in the air like a wonder of the world, luke stood and looked down at you like you previously did him.

“break up with him.”

“why?”

“you know why.”

there was no denying that, so you did none else than nod.

“yeah. i do.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

Steve’s bedroom door is open. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, pretty much everyone else wedged in here with him. Rob is on the bed too, leaning against him. Jon and Nance are sitting at the bottom. All the kids are sitting on the floor.

Everyone's quiet. Waiting. Straining to hear.

El and Eddie are next door.

And Steve has no fucking idea what the hell is going on.

The gates are all closed. Hawkins is a mess, but within the first twenty four hours there was a big push to start repairs. The government is probably pouring cash on this to tidy it up, clean it up, cover it up; make sure everyone knows it was an earthquake.

Gas main damaged in the quake leaked; if anyone saw anything weird, they’re already convinced it was a hallucination. So there’s that.

Everyone got out of hospital within hours; the worst off was probably Steve himself. His wounds from the bats, from their first run in with Vecna, still hadn't healed and one of them had been growing steadily more infected. He has fresh injuries from this time around; all of them inflicted by Eddie. Steve has two broken ribs, and he sounds like he's been smoking 100 a day for sixty years from where Eddie nearly choked him out. He needed twelve stitches in the nasty gash he picked up on the back of his head, but luckily no concussion this time. He's covered in scratches and bruises, but the hospital were happy to let him go with antibiotics and firm instructions to rest.

Eddie, surprisingly, has a clean bill of health. He was filthy, and the scars were bad but...otherwise, he didn’t have so much as an open scratch on him. Everything healed up completely. Which makes...no sense. Steve literally saw him die.

But that also means while they were preparing...planning...working to take down Vecna...he had Eddie the whole time. Potentially, that was nearly a week. The shock they had all had, seeing Eddie again. Obviously they hadn’t planned for that, hadn't factored it into their plans, and it completely and utterly fucked everything up.

They were done for. They were all going to die, no question. But something happened. Something changed. Steve was convinced he was about to get choked to death by Eddie, or maybe impaled on that ridiculous sword but...no. Eddie had blinked awake. And then he’d cut Vecna’s head clean off...which, unexpected, but still a win.

Eddie had dropped the sword, stumbling along after everyone else to get out before the gates closed on them.

Since then, Eddie's been silent. Going where he's told, stumbling through the examinations, sitting on the periphery of the group, staring into space. He looked broken, even to Steve, who realistically didn't know Eddie that well. Eddie had the vacant stare of someone who's just been though something traumatic.

When Dustin had tried to hug him, even, Eddie had flinched away.

No one tried to touch him after that, giving up talking to him pretty quickly. Eddie wasn't going to answer. Steve could practically watch Dustin getting more and more distressed over the state of Eddie. Everyone was aware; all they could do was sit and watch it happen.

Once they were out of the hospital they could look after him; try and figure out what the fuck was happening.

Eddie had disappeared pretty much the moment he had opportunity. He’d mumbled something about finding a bathroom, pretty much the first words he;d spoken, and as the minutes ticked by, it became increasingly obvious that Eddie wasn't coming back. The hospital was a mess, and they were supposed to wait for Owens.

Obviously the kids weren’t willing to let him out of their sight that fast. Vecna’s done something to him, controlled him somehow, that much is obvious. Just...nobody knows what.

When Owens finally showed, it was done and dusted fast. They confirmed Henry/One was dead. Owens had a lot of other shit to sort out; they were no longer his priority and they knew it. Dustin had been ball of barely contained anxiety the whole time, clearly wanting to track down Eddie but...by some sort of group mutual understanding...no one mentioned Eddie was alive. No one said he'd come back with them.

In the confusion, no one seemed to question it. Owens clearly hadn't bothered to look at the hospital's records, or whatever it was he could do. They left as fast as they could without raising suspicion.

The kids had found Eddie again pretty quickly, more through luck than anything, but finding Eddie sitting on the porch of some random house, nursing a bottle of vodka was...well. Everyone’s got their own coping mechanisms, Steve guesses.

Eddie still hasn’t spoken about what happened, but he was pretty quick to pass out on the spare bed.

El’s got that look on her face when she comes back, like she’s thinking big thoughts.

“Is he okay?” Dustin asks first. Obviously there were concerns. Vecna had Eddie for days, there could be anything in Eddie’s head. What if there’s something...lingering...from Vecna? Could be a risk.

El shakes her head, “he is very sad.”

“Sad about what?” Nancy, this time.

“When Eddie was…” she makes a face, she doesn’t have the words, for a moment, to convey what she wants to say, she puts the fingertips of both hands together, making bars, “Vecna put Eddie’s mind in a cage, he doesn’t remember what his body was doing, I don’t think.”

“So Vecna had him as a kind of puppet? He couldn’t get out of the cage?” Robin clarifies, “that’s good right, he didn’t see himself hurting us?”

El tilts a hand from side to side, “he did not want to leave the cage. Vecna made him…” she purses her lips, “love. He was in love. They had a baby, she grew up, she was going to college.”

“That makes no sense, he was there less than a week?”

“Time is different in dreams.”

“Yeah,” Dustin chimes in, “even if a dream feels long, it actually happens really fast.”

Steve huffs, “right, but he knows now, right, that it wasn’t real? So it doesn’t matter, right?”

“It matters to him,” El tells him so firmly Steve feels like he fucked up, “it was real to him.”

“Steve,” Nancy turns to him, “imagine if you got married, had...I don’t know, six kids and a Winnebago,” Steve winces because, yeah, okay, he might have deserved that, “and you come home after years and years of living that, being happy, only to find out it wasn’t real, how would you feel?”

“It’d be like they died,” Robin says next to him, suddenly gasping and making a pained noise, “oh that’s horrible. Poor Eddie.”

El’s nodding, and everyone else is silent, clearly letting that sink in.

And, yeah, Steve figures...that’s got to be pretty awful.

The kids have gone home, but Nancy, Rob, Jon and Argyle have all stayed. They promised the kids they would watch over Eddie, which wasn’t hard since Eddie’s been asleep pretty much since they got back. Steve doesn’t know if is the most of a bottle of vodka Eddie had downed, or the week he’s had but...he’s still asleep.

They take it in turns to check on him, every half an hour, someone comes up. Just to check.

Steve doesn’t know what woke him, but he needs to piss. Robins passed out next to him, snoring her wheezy little snore. Steve gets up and goes to the bathroom, figures he should check on Eddie.

And Steve finds himself suddenly very awake at the sight of an empty bed and an open window.

They split up, heading for likely places. Nancy, Argyle and Jon pile into Jon’s car, heading for Wayne first and then with a vague plan to work through town on the way back if he’s not there.

Steve and Robin strike out in the opposite direction.

“Lets head for the place the kids found him.”

“You think he would have gone back there?”

Robin shrugs, “why did he go there in the first place?”

“You think it means something to him?” A horrible feeling starting to form in the pit of Steve’s stomach, even as Robin shrugs ‘maybe’ at him.

They can’t see Eddie, but Robin insists they check it out. Steve’s glad Robin has half their brain, because she was dead right. There’s smashed glass on the porch and the door is open; someone has broken in.

Part Three

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos

[rarilight]

Tamagotchi - Ficlet ft. Rarity, Twilight, Fluttershy

PROMPT: Fluttershy asks Twilight to bring back her Tamagotchi pet after it accidentally dies

-----

When Fluttershy barged into Golden Oaks, reduced to tears, Twilight Sparkle feared the worst. Somepony had upset her sensitive friend, or a book she'd lent her had been accidentally too sad, or worse, one of Fluttershy's animals had died.

Which they had. Sort of. Kind of.

"Please, Twilight," Fluttershy sniffed, dabbing at her puffy eyes with a tissue. "Please, t-there must be something you can do! I've only had Sorbet for a week, and I promise I've taken good care of him, and--"

Twilight pursed her lips, hesitantly looking over the small purple electronic Tamagotchi. "One minute, let me see what I can do." She turned away from Fluttershy, fiddling with it for a moment before determining that, unfortunately, the battery was likely faulty.

"Well?" Fluttershy pressed. "Did you find out what's wrong?"

"I... I think so, yes," Twilight replied, still looking over the device. "The battery is shot. It's an easy fix, and I even have spares to give you, but... Well. The internal memory of these things usually rely on the battery, so--" She turned around to look at Fluttershy, her sentence petering out at the hopeful expression on her friend's face.

"So?" Fluttershy asked, her ears alert. "So you can bring Sorbet back?!"

Twilight smiled. Awkwardly.

"Ha ha. Well. Er."

Fluttershy's ears fell. Tears bordered her eyes anew. "....Twilight?"

"Yes!" Twilight lied, because she couldn't bring herself to tell Fluttershy that Sorbet was gone.”He’ll be there, just like always!”

“Really?!” Fluttershy gasped.

“Yes! Yep. Yes.” Twilight immediately levitated the Tamagotchi over to a bookcase. “Though, I, uh, need to keep him overnight just to make sure he’ll be okay. Alright?” At Fluttershy’s effusive nodding, Twilight apparated a notebook and pen. “And, uh, why don’t you, er, write down all the information you remember about him? Just so I can make sure the coding didn’t change.”

“Of course!” Fluttershy grabbed the notebook and immediately got to work. “Oh, thank you, Twilight!”

----

It was about three in the morning when Twilight Sparkle finally decided it was time to pass the torch. With bleary, tired eyes, she blinked at the details Fluttershy’d written, and then looked at the creature she’d been painstakingly grinding for hours. It had taken her about sixty-eight reboots to get a creature with the same shape, color, nature, gender, and preferences as the original Sorbet, and she’d only just gotten to the halfway point of matching its experience levels to the original’s. 

Thank Celestia for the book she’d read on using magic to hack devices. There was no other way she’d been able to bypass the time-locked events otherwise. 

To the sound of a big yawn, she walked towards the bed, tiredly rubbing the snoring blanketed lump on the couch. 

“Rarity, it’s your turn.”

“Sssssnore.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Rarity.”

“SSSSSNOOOOORE.”

“Come on! Up! Why did you send Fluttershy to get my help if you don’t like my solution?” Twilight chided, far too tired for shenanigans. “And stop that, we both know you don’t snore!”

“SSSSNOOOO—” The blanket came off, and a weary Rarity glared at her friend. “Fine, fine!” She magically snatched the Tamagotchi and frowned at it. “This is ridiculous, Twilight! It’s just a game! Sorbet isn’t even real!”

Twilight arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you want to tell Fluttershy that?”

Rarity looked away. “...No.”

“That’s what I thought. So, go!” She collapsed onto the couch and covered herself with blanket. “Level twenty-three. Six gifts pending. The complete sunflower outfit.”

“But the minigame is so difficult, and we already have the hat! Isn’t that enou—”

“Complete. Sunflower. Outfit.”

“But—!”

“SNOOOOORE!!!!”

----

“Oh, Twilight!” Fluttershy exclaimed the very next day, her eyes now filled with happy tears as she pressed button on her little device. “He’s fine! I’m so relieved!” She brought the device to her face and nuzzled it. “Oh, Sorbet, I’m so happy!”

“And everything is as you remember?” Twilight asked, the bags under her eyes matching the ones of Rarity, who was napping on the couch. “Not that it would be different, obviously! Because it’s the same Sorbet as always.”

“He’s just like always,” Fluttershy reassured her, allowing Twilight to finally relax. Or, well, until Fluttershy frowned, peering at her electronic friend. “Oh, that’s strange.”

“Strange?” Twilight asked, alert. “What is?”

Fluttershy blinked. “Oh. It’s just… His favorite fruit was oranges, but now it’s apples?”

“He changed his mind,” Rarity said, immediately, without even missing a beat or even turning around on the couch to look. 

Fluttershy looked at her friends, surprised. “He changed his min—?”

“Yep!” Twilight interrupted. “Yep. They do that. Yep.”

“But he really loved orang—”

“Darling!” Rarity continued. “Considering your crush on dear Applejack, it’s only natural he’d switch to apples, yes? Yes,” she interrupted, poor Fluttershy’s cheeks turning thirty different shades of red. “Problem solv—”

Twilight blinked at Fluttershy. “You have a crush on Applejack?”

“Rarity!” a flustered Fluttershy gasped in return.

“SSSSSNOOOOOOOORE….”

[fromgoy2joy]

After a tizzy of a freshman year of college as a jew-ish student, I'm packing boxes for uHaul.

My target-bought menorah went into the first box, along with all ten of my hillel sweatshirts. Pictures I had printed out from Purim are taken down, and neatly put into an envelope to be hung up later. My many books on Jewish culture and religion went into the second one. And so on, and so forth. The hamsa I lost three months ago was under my mini fridge.

As I put away each Jewish item, intermingled with my sweater collection and stuffed animals, I remember both the joy and grief of this year. A hostage necklace goes hand in hand with my Magen David in my jewelry box. A newspaper on a local antisemitic hate crime finds it place next to the belated "Hanukkah gift" my friend got for me in April. It's been so much to carry- both the joy of finding home along with the tangible feeling of uncertainty, fear, and pain.

And finally, I am on the fifth box. In the pocket of two separate winter coats, I found posters of two people-

one, the childhood best friend of a man I know, currently a captive in Gaza. I'd been given that picture, personally, by my friend who kept on referring to this hostage in the past tense. Then, he would continually correct himself, looking even more stricken as he made that mistake of letting what he's resigned to slip out. And I can't imagine- I can't. If the boys I played in the summer streams with were currently being tortured by my worst enemies. If I had no idea if the friend that sent me funny texts and assurances after a bad day was alive or not. The other, Hind Rajab, a Palestinian child killed in the crossfires of war. I found that poster blown off from a fence. It was one out of around sixty so I felt comfortable taking it home with me, just to look at her and remember. Her little face would've blended right in with the kids I helped out with every Monday for the last two semesters. Who could've cried on her last day of kindergarten, because she wouldn't see her teachers again, just like how all the six-year-olds clung to me when they realized it was my last day. In that moment, I laughed, pushing their hands off of me gently because I had to leave for Pesach celebrations. But at the same time, I thought of her and how she didn't get to see Eid.

When I come back to campus in September, with those boxes waiting in my new dorm for me, I will open up that box and see their faces. And I'll feel that sorrow as deeply as I feel it now and the moment I first learnt their stories. But I hope my friend's near-brother will be back home. And I hope - I hope to everything- that Palestinian children just like Hind will be able to go back home, get the help they need, and spend the rest of their childhoods crying over their teacher assistants leaving for summer breaks.

And when I see them in September, I'll think "We've done it. I'm sorry it took so long, I'm sorry it took this pain and nothing ever deserved to happen to you. But we did it."

[cinnamonest]

a yandere would be the best and worst companion to have during an apocalypse of some sort… like on one hand, they’re trying their best to keep you safe so they’re doing all the scavenging and whatnot. but on the other hand having no way of knowing the chaos going on outside of the little room you’re trapped in isn’t the best

Forgive me for making it about specific media but the other week I went home to visit my mom and loaded up Fallout 4 for the first time in ages and so it's been on my brain… imagine your lover coming back to the little abandoned vault he keeps you locked up in, bringing you things from outside… oh, and making you nauseous for days because of the radiation he picked up roaming around. It’ll wear off, he says… but he’s also started to, uh, glow in the dark a little bit, so you’re not so sure?

It’s a perfect environment — it’s not like anyone is gonna come looking for you now, and powerful drugs to keep you sedated are readily available to the public.

Besides, he says, with no acknowledgement of how morbid his words are, even if he dies out there, there’s enough food and water to keep you alive for the rest of your natural life… he says it to comfort you, but frankly, the idea of being down here all by yourself, no sunlight, no human contact, for the next sixty years or more, is terrifying in a way that makes you think death might actually be better.

But it’s okay. He’ll be super careful and definitely won’t die, he says. He's been blessed to have this whole nuclear war thing happen, granting him the ability to keep you all for himself without any interference — no way is he going to let this good fortune go to waste.

[topguncortez]

Are You With Me | | Chapter 3

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake and Y/N fight over the hospital bill and whether its a good idea to keep the kids on Jake's insurance or night. Jake still has issues with Miles. Ella makes a decision in the course of her treatment.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: medical inaccuracies, divorce, fighting, cursing, childhood cancer, mentions of childhood death

Jake had made a joke once that Eli was the cheapest baby they had. Said joke had earned him a glare that was fierce enough to send a shiver down his spine. Y/N had mastered the “mom eye” after having two kids.

But, even though Jake’s joke was done in poor timing, he was right. Having a baby, although not planned one bit, at home had saved them quite a bit of money. Jake had always found it comical that he was the best of the best. The 1% of the 1% and had some of the worst health care coverage in the whole United States.

“I feel like I need to take a loan out to pay these,” Jake rubbed his forehead, slipping his glasses off his face.

It was one of the rare moments that Jake and Y/N were both at the house. Y/N spent the day with Ella while Jake was at work and Alex was at school. Between Penny and Y/N’s mother Clara, they watched Eli for a couple of hours. Jake would then come to the hospital at night, staying with Ella while Y/N went home and made dinner and got the boys to bed. The Daggers had created a weekend schedule, each of them taking a saturday or sunday to stay with Ella so Jake and Y/N could both go home and recharge.

Though being at home was more stressful than watching their four year old getting pumped with toxins.

“Is that the bill?” Y/N asked as she walked into the kitchen after putting the boys down. She filled the tea kettle and set it on the burner, before pouring Jake a drink and taking it to him

“The first one, yeah,” Jake wiped a hand down his face, “Thanks,” He mumbled taking the rocks glass from her, “The ER visit cost thirty-three hundred dollars and insurance is only covering three hundred of it. The estimated total cost of care is around sixty-one thousand dollars.”

“Well,” Y/N swallowed, “I can always put Ella on my insurance. I get good-”

“No,” Jake sneered, “We agreed when we… we agreed when we divorced I would put the kids on my insurance plan because it’s cheaper.”

“Yes, but if this means compromising Ella’s care-“

“It’s not compromising anything!” Jake snapped causing Y/N to jump a bit in her seat. He scrubbed a hand down his face, “You got the kids and the house and everything else in the divorce. Let me help do this.”

Y/N nodded her head, “Fine,” She sighed, “We still have the rainy day fund.”

“Still not even going to make a dent in the payments,” Jake leaned back in his chair, “I’m tired of talking about this. How was Ella today?”

“Same as always,” Y/N shrugged, “Was fine in the morning before chemo, napped all afternoon and then threw up everything she ate. Her hair is becoming more of an issue for her… it’s becoming more noticeable.”

Ella’s hair had started to fall out as the weeks of chemo continued on. Jake and Y/N didn’t have the heart to shave it or cut it before Ella started therapy, wanting her to have the ability to make that decision for herself. But as the treatments went on, Ella’s confidence began to fade with each clump of hair that fell.

“Maybe we should just shave it,” Jake suggested as the tea kettle rang.

Y/N poured herself a mug, “No. She’s already losing so much autonomy over her own body. She should be the one who decides on her hair.”

“I hate to see her like that.”

“We all do,” Y/N took a sip of her tea, “But she was happy that Rooster and Dragon got to stay with her. Dragon mentioned something about watching Dateline.”

Jake chuckled, “Going to teach our four year old how to commit murder and get away with it.”

“She’s been stealing cookies and getting things she wants outta you since she was born.”

Jake couldn’t help it, he was a sucker for those big green eyes.

Silence fell over the two of them. It was moments like these where things almost felt normal between Jake and Y/N. Like the past two years had been a fever dream. That they had never spent a day apart. But then reality settled back in, and the awkwardness filled the air.

“I’m going to bed,” Y/N said, clearing her throat, “I put clean towels back in the guest room.”

“Thank you,” Jake nodded his head, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jake.”

— — —

When Ella was born, she had a full head of dark curly hair. Y/N knew that she was going to have hair from all the heartburn she had experienced through the whole nine months. In fact, that was the first thing the doctor had called out in the middle of delivering the Seresin girl.

“oh gosh! she’s got a full head of hair!”

Y/N had always dreamed of having a little girl with gorgeous long hair, and she had been lucky to get just that. She couldn’t wait until Ella was old enough to sit up and her hair long enough that she could braid it and style it. Ella always had perfectly done hair when Y/N dropped her off for daycare. Ella liked to show off her matching bows or the intricate braid that her mother did to her classmates and teacher.

Miles had told them one of the most common side effects of chemotherapy was the loss of hair. Y/N thought maybe, just maybe, Ella wouldn’t lose her hair. They had gotten through the first week of treatment without any hair loss. But then week two rolled around, and it was the worst week of Ella Seresin’s life.

“Mommy! My hair!” Ella cried as she stood fresh out of the shower, with a clump of hair in her hands. Y/N did all she could to try and soothe her child as she pulled on the ends of her hair, more stands coming out.

“I know, baby,” Y/N fought back tears, “I know. It’ll be okay.”

For weeks, Y/N and Jake watched as Ella’s hair grew thinner and thinner. They switched from using a brush to using a wide tooth comb, hoping to save some of the frail strands of hair on her head. Ella knew that most kids on the floor didn’t have hair or wore fake hair. She knew that eventually, she would look like them.

“Do you want strawberry or cherry jello for lunch?” Y/N asked as she looked over the hospitals menu choices for today. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was because of stress but the hospital food wasn’t actually that bad. Plus, Val had kept Ella’s room stacked with snacks.

“Mommy,” Ella said.

“Yes, baby?” Y/N asked, putting the menu down and looking at her daughter, “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I want to cut my hair.”

“What?” Y/N was taken aback by her daughter’s words. Ella was wise beyond her years but this shocked Y/N to hear.

“I want to cut my hair. It keeps falling,” Ella said, touching her thinning hair.

Y/N nodded her head, “Of course, baby. We’ll do it tonight, when dad gets here. That sounds okay?” Ella nodded her head, a bright smile on her face, “Now, how about that jello.”

A couple of hours later, Jake was walking down the familiar bright colored walls of the children’s cancer ward. He always found it ironic that such a dark place was painted so brightly. Ella had only been there two months and already she had new neighbors on either side of her room. The cries of the parents haunted Jake at night and the images of little bodies being moved with sheets over their heads was enough to bring Jake to a panic. However, every time Jake walked closer to Ella’s door he was met with the beautiful sound of laughter. 

A smile graced Jake’s lips as he heard Ella’s laugh and that familiar snort that always made her laugh harder. But the moment he opened the door, his smile dropped. 

“Doctor Miles.” 

“Daddy!” Ella cheered and sat up in her bed, reaching out for her father. 

Jake walked over to her, greeting her with a hug and kissing her forehead, “How are you, bug?” 

“I’m good,” Ella nodded her head, laying back in her bed, “Doctor Miles is playing Bluey with me.” 

“I see that,” Jake looked over at Miles who was standing in the corner of the room now, “Where is Mommy?” 

“Sent her for a snack,” Miles answered, “She’s looking like the walking dead.” 

“Can we refrain from making death jokes?” Miles held back from rolling his eyes, “I’m here now, so you can go.” 

“I said I would wait here with Ella until-” 

“I’m her father and I say-” 

“You say nothing,” Y/N said, appearing in the doorway, “Thank you, Miles.” 

Miles nodded his head, “No problem, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ella, good job today.” He held his hand out for the little girl to give him a high five. 

Y/N waited a moment until Miles was out of the room before looking at Jake, “Really?” 

Jake just shrugged, “I had it under control.” 

“I’m sure,” Y/N sighed, walking over to Ella’s bed. The little girl curled up next to her mother almost instantly, “Do you want to tell your daddy what you want to do today?” Ella nodded her head and then looked at Jake. 

“I want to cut my hair.” 

Jake’s eyes widened as he looked from Ella to Y/N, “You do?” Ella nodded her head again. 

“The nurses brought some clippers and stuff earlier. I-I’ve never cut anyone’s hair so I-”

“I got it,” Jake answered, “I was cuttin’ boys’ hair in the bay at boot camp.” 

 “Okay,” Y/N said, feeling the familiar burn of tears in her eyes, “You ready, Elles?” 

“Yes!” Ella said, a bright smile on her face. 

Both Y/N and Jake walked with Ella to the bathroom where a nurse had brung in clippers, scissors, a razor, shaving cream and a step stool. Ella stepped up on the stool, looking at herself in the mirror that was covered with pink and purple flowers. Y/N leaned against the doorway, watching as Jake got everything set up, occasionally making funny faces in the mirror to make Ella laugh. 

“Gonna start now, are you sure this is what you want?” Jake asked his daughter. Ella nodded her head, “Okay. Here we go.” Both Y/N and Jake took a deep breath as he grabbed a lock of Ella’s hair and lifted the scissors. The sound of the shears closing together made the loudest sound Y/N had ever heard as a lock of brown went tumbling down to the ground. 

“You cut it!” Ella gasped. Jake’s heart pounded in his chest, then it relaxed as her giggles filled the room, “Do it again!” 

Jake looked at his wife through the mirror, seeing her red eyes but the smallest smile on her face, “Let’s keep going.” 

After every snip of the scissors, Ella giggled which made the whole situation somewhat better. Eventually Jake got to the point where he had to use the clippers. He gently moved them over her head, watching as the final pieces of hair fell from her head. 

“What do you think?” Jake asked, as he set the razor down in the sink. It was quiet for a moment as Ella looked herself over in the mirror. 

“My head is cold,” She said. 

Y/N chuckled as she stepped into the bathroom, walking up behind her daughter, “We’ll get you a hat or two or-” 

“Three!” Ella held up three fingers. Ella turned to face her mom, “Momma, don’t cry.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N said, as Ella wiped a finger away from her cheek, “How about we take a shower and then watch a disney movie?” 

“Princess and The Frog! Daddy! Will you stay?” 

Y/N looked at Jake, who was cleaning up the hair around the bathroom, “Yeah. Of course. Let me finish cleaning this up, and I'll sneak down to the nurses lounge to make popcorn.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N said, sincerity in her voice, “Let’s get cleaned up, Elles.” 

A strange feeling settled over Jake’s chest as he watched his wife and daughter. A strange feeling that maybe, just maybe. . . things will be alright.

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[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

Chapter II

Silence takes over the courtyard as Commandant Panchek stands stunned on the dais in the front. “Come again, rider? How dare you interrupt-“

The boy steps to the side, revealing my lingering figure behind him and the mans face pales instantly when his eyes find my glaring ones. Fear strikes his face.

Damn, I know that my father is scary, and his reputation is ahead of him but that the higher ups still shit their pants when they see me will never not surprise me. That makes me think … how many people around here, besides the Commandant, did father informed that I'll join Basgiath this year?

“A-ah Cadet! I-it’s great to see you’ve made it safely across the Parapet.” Did he- did he just stutter?! My face surely must show amusement because he tries to hide his nervousness and fear with a shit eating grin. If one word describes this man, then it’s pathetic.

He turns to another third year I know all too well – Fen Riorsons son, Xaden. The bane of my father’s existence. He already warned me about my future wingleader and the other “marked ones”.

Xaden looks good though, even with the confused frown on his face that almost everyone up there wears since I arrived with the rider next to- oh well. Not next to me anymore. He must have went off to find his squad.

I can feel the stares on me and hear the whispers of the other cadets on me, while my glare is still fixated on the persons up the dais. My bet is, Panchek tells them who I am and that they discuss which wing I’ll join, even though General Melgren and Sorrengail made it crystal clear where I'll be going.

Suddenly Xaden tenses and throws a quick glance over his shoulder with fury in his eyes to which I only lift an eyebrow in question when our eyes meet. Then he turns back to the others and nods.

The crowd is waiting patiently for them to finish up and it’s Panchek who steps forward again.

“As I was saying, three hundred and two of you have survived the Parapet to become cadets today,” he wears that political slimy smile again. “Good job. Sixty-seven did not.”

Well, that’s unfortunate. My guess is that the weather had a big impact on those numbers, but it could have been that asshole that threw other candidates from the Parapet down like he owns the place. A shiver runs down my spine while thinking he lingers around somewhere, possibly making friends that are as crazy as him. Shits about to get real when my name is revealed, and I don`t know what I should hope for, but I fear the worst.

He talks about the Codex and what we should expect during our first year while he gestures wildly with his hands. All talk, no bite this man. I had the unfortunate luck to meet him more than just once through my father’s career and I did not enjoy his company any fucking minute. He is annoying as hell and wants General Sorrengails position first, and then my fathers. As if that would ever happen, when father’s signet is one of the most important on the continent and when he has Codagh.

“… My best advice? Don’t die.” Easier said than done.

He walks off the dais with his executive commandant in tow but not without throwing a quick glance my way. Please just go away.

A brunette woman steps forward and calls out the section and squad leaders to take their positions. While finding their place in the front, Dain Aetos eyes meet mine over the distance, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to study me, nice try buddy. He stands in the section of Second Wing; I think he is squad leader for Flame Section if I recall right.

We met each other over a year ago through Violet, since he is or was her best friend. I never liked him, too much of a “we have to strictly follow the rules” guy. But he isn't really fond of me too, thinks I am a bad influence on Violet.

One by one, cadets find their way into formation and soon Second Wing is called.

“Violet Sorrengail. Second Squad! Flame Section! Second Wing!”

Thank god's she is alive, but wait- those were not General Sorrengails orders!!? This is really bad and after finding said girl in the masses she seems to be relieved, but when I let my gaze fall on Dain again– oh? I see how it is. He must have something to do with this, because he has the audacity to smirk when his eyes find mine again. But I know it better than him, he won't be laughing for long.

Violet and her friend (?) walk over to their assigned squad and take place into formation. Third Wing is called and after that Fourth Wing. Time to shine – or not. I am one of the last cadets to be called into formation.

“Arya Melgren. Second Squad! Flame Section! Fourth Wing!” Xaden calls out.

There are more than just a few startled gasps and shocked whispers of my last name.

Only a handful of carefully selected people, mostly leadership, my teachers/trainers plus Violet and Dain, know about my existence, so I am not surprised that the majority here had no fucking clue that General Melgren has a daughter. Even the wingleader, beside Riorson, and their executives look uncomfortable.

I quickly make my way into formation while Xaden is busy studying Violet, trying to find out how the fuck he gets her into Fourth Wing and with the little tilt of his head I think he figured out what to do. He turns his back to the crowd to talk to the wingleader of Second Squad, and then the other two wingleader joins what seems to be a heated discussion. Whispers fills the Rotunda as everyone is waiting for further instructions from their leaders. They turn back and Xadens smirk tells me he got what he wanted. Thank fuck, I wouldn’t want to be in General Sorrengails wrath when she finds out that her daughter would have been somewhere else than the assigned wing.

“Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” Nyra orders. My squad.

“Follow me” Beinhaven says and steps forward with her squad following. Well, everyone but me, I have specific orders from above. And while my now ex-squad gives me confused stares as they're passing me, Xaden and I share a quick glance. He nods once and I know, I stay where I am, about to join Aetos squad.

Aetos and his squad find their way into my direction, the squad leader at the front.

“Aetos” I greet him with a grin on my lips, arms crossed. I`ll annoy the fuck out of him this year, this will be so much fun. “Melgren,” he replies with a frown on his face, “I believe your squad is now in Second Wing.”

“I am right where I belong to. Fourth Wing, Flame Section, Second Squad. Those were the orders” I say, my gaze hardening to underline what I am hinting at. Realization crosses his face, and he grows uncomfortable under my glare.

“Into formation, Second Squad!” he orders with a hiss when he notices cadets lingering around.

Violet and her friend find their place next to me, greeting me with a gentle smile which I gladly return. “Arya, I am glad to see you.” “Same goes for you, Silver One. I am happy to see you made it safely.”

The dark tanned girl next to her scoffs at my response, which confuses me. “Hardly” she murmurs.

My eyes find Violets blue ones with question marks all over my face. She leans over and whispers “A guy from now First Wing tried to kill me after throwing another candidate down the Parapet, Jack Barlowe is his name” in my ear. Oh shit, that must have been the asshole I saw earlier when I observed the candidates.

Eyes widening, I quickly scan her for possible injuries but to my relief, I find none.

“Quiet” Dain hisses in front of us.

Our focus shifts back up the dais where Xaden steps forward. Violet tenses as she keeps eye contact with our wingleader. I take her hand into mine to ease her nerves, which doesn`t goes unnoticed by her friend. Shit, I need to ask Vi for her name before I embarrass myself.

“Rhiannon Matthias” the girl whispers to which I send a thankful nod and a gentle smile, getting a grin back in return.

“You’re all cadets now,” Xadens voice caries out over the formations. “Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon? Earn one.”

Some cadets cheer like they already have a dragon, but the three of us stay quiet. There is nothing to cheer about in this hellhole.

I space out while Xaden edges the crowd but along the cheers … there is something different. It’s not just cheering, that`s-

“Oh gods, they are beautiful” Rhiannon whispers as my gaze shifts to the sky. There they are – the dragons belonging to the leadership of the Riders Quadrant.

Unbelievably gorgeous and incredibly deadly at the same time. It’s always unsettling to be around Codagh, since he is the biggest dragon on the continent and given our history, but Sgaeyl, Xadens dragon – she is undeniable fascinating and terrifying. Especially when she stares into Violets eyes like she wants to eat her.

A cadet bolds out of formation, screaming and trying to get away from here. All hell breaks loose.

[cookie-crumblr]

What would happen if we ignored Ezra and didn't care what he did for a day?

SORRY ITS TAKEN ME LITERALLY SO LONG!!! TYSM FOR THE ASKS!!! ily all 💋✨

He’d get so angry.

So toxic,

ecstatic and sad all at the same time.

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: GN!Reaader, no body descriptions for reader, not proofread, explicit language, violence, NON CON SA. VIOLENCE AGAINST READER. names used against reader(Cunt, ), assault, loud “noises”, general bullying against reader!

Status: Not even close to dating

“Fuck off! Just, leave me alone already!!” You stormed off, leaving him somewhat dumbfounded with a lust filled smirk cemented to his face.

He fixes his jaw.

“, finally” He swaggers away in the other direction, for now.

Later~

“Are you still ignoring me, Y/N?”

You pick up your things and go to move seats without a word.

He watches you through twitching lowered brows, gaining annoyance as a ripe little cherry on top of everything else he’s been feeling since you left in a huff this morning.

Ignore him will ya? Welp, he’ll just have to make it harder for you to do so.

He moves seats too.

You move seats again, before, “Y/L/N, You’re disrupting class. Either stay seated this time, or get out.” The professor says.

Fuck.

Well now you’re stuck next to him…

You sit on the side edge of your seat as far away from him as possible, in fact only one freakin butt cheek is even on the dang thing. You’re even facing completely away when, he start rapping his fingers against the desk. His head is in his hand.

“Uhhhhg just stop already!” He moans. He’s so loud, you’d swear his noises are way more disruptive than you moving seats maybe if you just—

“Sit back down, or leave.”

You groan loud and draw it out. HES WAY LOUDER! Why is he NEVER in trouble???

Whatever. only … Fuck… sixty more minutes… Gods why are courses so long!

He huffs loudly next to you and blows some strawberry blonde hair out of his face.

It’s too bad he’s so hot, his looks are wasted on such a nasty dude.

A hand slaps your thigh and grips your inner flesh tightly to where it stings! “Ow!!”

“Shhh!” the professor turns from the screen toward your direction.

“Sorry Sur…” UHG. Whatever.

“Pfft,” He’s laughing. He’s seriously laughing at you!

You know what! Fine. You will leave. And you do.

Ezra follows you to the hallway.

You speed up and try to go hide in the restroom.

Once inside you sigh, but relief is cut short when the door opens.

You clamber into a stall, Fuck fuck FUCK. No! now you’re alone with him! Oh shit. Oh no. Oh gods…

*SLAM! BANG! CRASH!*

You jump. You think he kicked in a stall door, it sounded like it flew off its poor hinges. You cower with your whole body scrunched on top of the toilet.

You realize you’re shaking.

You cover your own mouth to silence yourself but—

*BANG-CRASH!*

You muffle a whimper but you know he heard you.

“Y/N~ I know you’re in here,”

*BANG-CLANG-CRASH*

FUCK!

There’s only one left before yours…

*Flick*

Huh? A lighter…

You smell cigarette smoke, and a tear forms at the corner of your eye. He’s just toying with you as always, he has to be… Right?

“Y/N~” He’s cooing in an almost sing-songy voice. “If you come out now, i’ll give ya a reward…”

You wipe your face, and steel yourself for a second…

Okay… Fine.

It’s probably better than whatever he’d do to you if you keep cowering until he inevitably gets to you, in two more kicks.

You open the door.

“There~ That wasn’t so hard wasit?” His voice is so gentle right now, but it does little to calm you.

You turn your head in defiance.

“You really wanna do this, huh? Ignorin’ me or whatever,” He flicks away his cigarette and you can’t hold in the air that leaves you in actual relief, that’s one less weapon against you.

He closes the distance in a single movement, grasping your face by the cheeks and squeezing them. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You don’t.

“Look. At. Me. Now.”

You remain stead fast.

“You finally got s’m balls, eh.” He smiles and drops your face with a soft uncharacteristic caress to your jaw.

You break and take a quick glance at him.

“ahhh, you want that, huh?” He brings back that sweet voice… “You want me to be all lovey and soft huh?” Your heart thumps in your chest hard. He doesn’t mean it, he’s not gonna change and you know it. “Too Fuckin’ bad” He grabs your face again before throwing it down, he grabs your body next and throws you down onto the dirty bathroom floor.

“Please!!” You cover your face with your arms, but it’s no use hes on top of you, pulling your arms away from you, ripping open your legs and pulling them up on either side of him.

His buckle is loud in your ears as he undoes it, before your hearing cuts out, did he punch you? Your whole head hurts and your vision is fuzzy.

Your skull must’ve bounced off the ceramic tiles.

He punches you again, he’s not using his full strength but it might still knock you out.

“Stupid cunt, you think you can ignore me?” He spits.

“Please, Ezra!!! Sto—op—p” You’re choking out sobs but you can barley hear yourself as if your in another room from your own body.

He spits on his own dick and spreads it around before entering you, at least he’ll give you that.

It still hurts.

He’s rough, not caring that your already damaged skull is continuing to bounce off the floor.

eventually you’re out cold. It’s a small mercy. But a mercy nonetheless.

When you come to you’re still on the floor, naked and afraid as people surround your battered body and snap pics and laugh.

“Aw shit, they’re awake” one says.

“Damn” another adds.

You grab your stuff and bolt, new tears streaming down your puffy face.

[cyberphuck]

ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED: PART TWO

My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, but they don’t want to actually have to read the books, so I’m summarizing it for them (and you)! (Check out all the other entries in the Farseer Trilogy Abridged series at the masterpost. Also if you think I’m funny you can send me a ko-fi from there.)

EDIT: added some strikethroughs where they were supposed to go and put something funny where I had just left the reminder to write something funny. Last Time on Dragon Book Z (rip Toriyama sensei), Fitz finally made it home from the mountains. He’d seen via Skill-o-Vision that Molly had been viked by Vikings, and he was desperate to see if she’d flagged herself ‘safe’ from Being Raided on Facebook…

The next day, Fitz is minding his own business being told by Cook Sara that he looks like shit when he spontaneously decides to climb sixty four flights of stairs. Considering that his tiny teenaged body is still 89% poison by volume and he just got home from the worst road trip of his life (so far!), by the time he gets to the top he's facedown on the floor, pushing himself along by his toes.

  “Hello, Lil Accident,” Verity says, putting down his binoculars. “Wow, you look like shit.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Fitz mumbles to the floor. ”You look a lot less skeletal than when I last saw you.“

  ”Thanks! I had sex.“

  Fitz tries to get up and fails. ”I didn't even know you'd be up here.”

  “Aha, but you see, I Skilled you here, and you didn't even know it. In fact I've been balls-deep in your brain for a week with you none the wiser, because this is a thing I can do with the Skill.“

  Fitz spits out a mouthful of dust. ”Wow, when do I get to learn that kind of thing?“

  ”Never,“ Verity smiles, turning back to the window. ”Come look at my ships.“

  Dragging himself up to the windowsill, Fitz peeks out. “Neat! We'll be able to defend ourselves against the Vikings with these for sure!“

  ”Yes,” Verity growls. “And I can't wait to continue the cycle of violence by going all the way to the Viking home planet and viking them back!“

  Somewhere downstairs, the Fool rubs his temples, sighing loudly.

  ”Anyway, now that I've forced you to climb all the way up here, let's go back down so I can get something to eat.” Verity picks Fitz up by the scruff of his neck. “I want to hear all about your little trip to the Big Onion.“

  They head down to Verity's man cave, and after watching 'ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE ENDING EXPLAINED— WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO AUGUST,' Verity reads the comments, most of which point out that Regal should have totally died in a fire for plotting to kill his own brother and murdering a bunch of the wedding party.

  Fitz looks at the hay bale in the corner, where the Fool is updating his Linkedin. ”Listen, I have a way bigger part in this book than the last one,“ the Fool says without looking up. ”I'm not gonna have time to re-explain who everybody is to you whenever you want. I've got a big death scene coming up.“

  ”You're going to die?!“ Fitz cries.

  ”Someone is,“ the Fool murmurs.

  ”You're probably wondering why I haven't punished Regal for any of the stuff he did last book,“ Verity says, steepling his fingers. ”And the truth is, I'm not going to, because he'll just throw a temper tantrum about it and I don't want to deal with that.“

  ”What if he tries to kill one of us again?“

  ”Pff, don't worry about it, Lil Accident.“ Verity waves him off. ”You can take tomorrow off to go look for your dead girlfriend.“

  Fitz stands up. ”Thanks Prince Verity, I'm gonna go have a seizure before bed.“

  But as soon as he steps out of the room, Lacey jumpscares him and drags him off to go see Lady Patience, who is laying in a pile of her current hyperfixations. ”You missed the wedding,” she says accusingly.

  ”Sorry, Mrs. My Dead Dad's Wife,“ Fitz sighs. ”Regal tried to, uh, do whatever the opposite of poisoning me and trying to drown me is, and now whenever I get excited I fall over.“ He accepts a glass of wine from Lacey, then dumps it over his head. “I've gotta move on to the next plot point now.”

  Fitz is staggering up the stairs, leaving a wet smear of Rosé after him, when a Servant Girl comes to take his arm. “Here, sir,” she says sweetly. “Let me help you weave drunkenly back to your chambers. Wouldn't want you falling down the stairs and breaking your stupid lying neck.”

  “Thanks, mysterious servant girl. You can drop me off at the corner, I’ll walk from here.”

  But instead of letting him have a seizure in peace, the Servant Girl punches him in the gut and kicks him in the nads, because she's Molly!

  “Holy shit, you're alive!” Fitz sobs. “Oh man, I had a vision that you got viked, it was awful—”

  Molly kicks him in the nads again. “I did get viked, and afterwards I came here looking for you to ask you to loan me some cash, or get married to me. My dumb ass went around to all the servants going 'hey, have you seen the scribe's apprentice, he looks just like FitzChivalry Farseer,' and someone filmed me and made a TikTok titled 'tfw you find out your boyfriend is really The Bastard.'”

  “Oh,” Fitz cringes.

  “Yeah 'oh,'” Molly says. “It has sixteen million views and hashtag Cat-Fitzed is trending on Twitter.”

  “It's called X now,” Fitz squeaks. “What about the older, hotter guy I saw you walking off with?“

  ”That was my cousin,“ Molly snarls. ”Do you think I'd date someone with an earring?“

  “Gosh, it's a good thing I don't wear one of those,” Fitz says, polishing his collar.

  ”Anyway, you're gross and I hate you,“ Molly declares. ”Do not, under any circumstances, continue to attempt to woo me. Goodbye.”

  Despite Fitz's best efforts, he continues to have a seizure any time he tries to do anything except have a seizure. Even into the next day, he's still ragdolling like a character in a seventy dollar video game on release day. The Fool appears briefly to catch a glimpse of Fitz in his underwear, but before they can do any real flirting, Lacey and Patience show up again.

  “Listen, Prince Dumbass,” Patience says, “you fucked up bigtime letting Molly think she was in your league. She came here thinking you'd grown up in a double-wide same as her, drinking off-brand kool aid and saving butter containers to use as tupperware. When people found out you lied to her, they started calling her a hump-and-dump.”

  “But we never even humped,” Fitz objects.

  “And it's a good thing, too, because as royalty you're only allowed to hump at the King's pleasure. Princes are not allowed to run around sticking their dick in whoever they want, that's how we ended up with you. You'd just make a bunch more Fitzes, and we don't have enough paid extras anymore to traumatize *all* of those kids.”

  “We could drown them,” Lacey suggests, working on a cross-stitch that says 'GALS BEING PALS.'

  ”They wouldn't be Fitzes if me and miss Molly got married,“ Fitz says. ”I'll just go and do that real quick.“

  Patience whacks him in the head with a rolled up newspaper. ”No! You're going to marry whoever the King tells you to marry, and no one else. We learned our lesson with Chivalry: we can never, ever allow you to have any control over your life whatsoever, and that includes caring about anyone other than whoever is wearing a crown that day. Besides, didn't you already sign a contract to do whatever King Shrewd told you to do without question forever?”

  “I was nine, I don't really feel like that was binding—”

  Patience grabs Fitz by the front of his shirt and jerks him forward. “Do not,” she says, “have sex with Molly. Do NOT have sex with Molly. DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH MOLLY.”

  “No promises,” Fitz shrugs. “Hey, do you have a backstory other than being the ADHD widow of my deadbeat dad?”

  Patience runs away crying. As soon as she's gone, Chade shows up. “Hey,” he says gently. “Don't cry. Kettricken's dad roped her into a political marriage and now she's miserable and lonely. That can happen for you, too.”

  “This sucks,” Fitz moans.

  “Remember not to have sex with Molly,“ Chade says as he crawls back into his wall-hole.

  ”Whatever. I'm going down into town to find my soulmate.”

  Fitz, wearing his slouchiest beanie, his blackest hoodie, and his unhappiest expression of teenaged angst, stomps down the road into Buckkeep town, hands shoved in his pockets. “Stupid Farseers,” he mutters. ”Always hasslin' me and tellin' me what to do. What do they know? Man, nobody understands what it's like to be me.“

  *Oh, you you think you got it bad, little bitch boy?*

  The entire fandom erupts into cheers and applause as the character in possession of the single teaspoon of sense in the entire series arrives.

  Fitz looks up, snarling, and locks eyes with a wolf trapped in a cage labeled 'ESSENTIAL NPC'. The angry little ball of fluff is just one of many wares sold by a dude in a full body fursuit. “Good morrow, emo child,” Fursuit says, oozing greasily forward. “I see you eyeballing that young cub. You know, an animal like that could really be useful if, say, you were a royal Bastard with Doctor Doolittle magic who was sent out to fight zombies a lot.“

  ”I'll trade you a pack of gum for him,“ Fitz offers.

  ”He's worth way more than that,“ Fursuit says. ”I went through all the trouble of building a rocketship for his wolf-mother and wolf-siblings so they could return to their home planet.“

  *I'll kick your ass! I'll kick everyone's ass! I'll kick my own ass!!*

  *'Shut up, I'm negotiating!'*

  ”A pack of gum AND this cool rock I found,“ Fitz bargains expertly, then kicks Fursuit in the shin, grabs the wolf, and runs off.

  Fitz carries Wolfcub back up to Buckkeep, looking forward to the 'wrestling with a wild animal to show dominance' scene, but then realizes that the cub is too weak and tiny to put up a good fight. What was even the point of having a pet wolf if he couldn't have a badass fight with it and then stand shirtless against the sunrise? Also, Fitz has already had two canines in his life bond to him and then have to return to their home planets, and he's kind of tired of that happening.

  *'My apartment has a no pets policy, so you're gonna have to stay in the tool shed,'* he tells Wolfcub. *'Don't wit-bond to me.'*

  Then, with nothing better to do, he leaves to go do the thing Patience and Chade explicitly told him not to: Have Sex With Molly.  ”The fuck is wrong with you lately?“ Burrich asks, some days later while he and Fitz are hanging out at the bar.

  Fitz sighs. ”I keep trying to have sex with Molly, but things are always getting in the way of my dick," he says mournfully.

  ”Mm. Been there,“ Burrich mutters, pulling down his sleeve to cover up his 'PATIENCE CHIVALRY BITTERNESS AND BURRICH 4 EVER' tattoo. ”Which one is Molly?“

  ”The hot one that kicks people in the nuts.“

  ”Oh, yeah. Half my age. I like that in a girl,“ Burrich says, and everybody decides to just go with it. ”Here's my advice to you: give up and move on. Get your post-rejection glow up, and your girl will go off to marry someone else.“

  ”That sounds like it sucks,“ Fitz says doubtfully. “When do I finally get to have sex with her?”

  Burrich grins. “That's the neat thing! You don't.”

  The next morning, Fitz gets out of bed, takes a big, cleansing breath, then puts his earbuds in and turns on his Montage Song.

  “Time for that glow up,” he says really loudly because he can't hear himself over the music.

  'Cause baby you're a firework

Fitz wrapping measuring tape around his bicep and frowning;

come on and show 'em what you're worth

running laps around the castle with Wolfcub chasing after him;

make 'em go oh! oh! Oh!

standing on one foot like in Karate Kid while Pat Morita decomposes nearby;

as you you shoot across the sky-ay-ay

Burrich taking away his AXE body spray and shoving him into the shower;

baby you're a firework!

carb-loading at the local Fantasy Pizzeria;

come on and let your colors burst

lifting weights while Wolfcub tries to bite him;

make 'em go oh! oh! Oh!

measuring his bicep again, and nodding in satisfaction.

you're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

  “I'm bored,” Kettricken sighs as she and Fitz hang out with Kettricken's entourage. “I wish Verity would get me pregnant.“

  ”How can you be bored with fifty people constantly offering to play with you?“ Fitz says. ”Also, ew.“

  ”I could be back home fighting bears and lifting sacks over my head,” Kettricken whines, “but I'm stuck here in Lamesville with these boring losers and my husband is constantly off doing Skill stuff instead of having sex with me. Lady Modesty is constantly suggesting we watch the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice,” she adds, disgusted.

  Fitz slaps her. “Your job here isn't to be butch! This castle has been a fucking sausage party for years, and the best person to Girlboss it up is you. That means making moodboards, drinking iced coffees, doing each other's nails and YES, watching the objectively worse version of Pride and Prejudice! Look at Lady Hopeful, she's unironically singing along to 'I Knew You Were Trouble'! Now suck it up, buttercup, and go watch the part where Mr. Darcy confesses his love to Elizabeth!”

  “Yes sir,” Kettricken mumbles.

  “Bastard, first name The?“ a messenger says as he clips through the wall. ”King Shrewd finally wants to see you.“

  Fitz stands up, brushes himself off, and heads up to Grandpa's house...

[a-spes]

S I X F E E T A W A Y - One shot.

Words count - 2,6k.

Tags & Warnings - Natasha Romanoff x reader, light angst.

Summary - You were Natasha's girlfriend. It has been a year since she died and you still can't accept it, visiting her grave whenever you can.

Song - It'll be okay, Shawn Mendes.

— — — — —

It has been a year. Twelve months, fifty-two weeks, three hundred sixty-five days. In other words, it has been an eternity. The thought of all the time that has passed makes you sick. Even after a year the pain is still the same, the people that told you it will eventually fade were a bunch of liars. You hate them because you are going through every day thinking the next one will be different but it is not, the urge to cry, scream, throw up and destroy everything around you never disappeared. At best, it fades during the good days.

However, this feeling always comes back. You don’t even know how you survived this year without her by your side. She has been your whole world since the first time you met. At the time, you agreed to join the Avengers only so you don’t have to leave her - you regret that decision now, convinced that she died because of them. 

You were supposed to be a family but the team fell apart on the first difficulties and doesn’t even exist anymore. After they saved the world, bringing back the missing population, the members that weren’t dead decided to leave. 

They said they needed some personal time, which you understand, but never told you for how long. It has already been a year and none of them checked up on you or replied to your attempt to get in touch, you can’t help but feel abandoned.

Since you have been back, being at the compound never felt the same anymore. This place no longer felt like home, it was just an empty building, full of ghosts and memories. After a few weeks you decided to move out, unable to stay here for one more day. 

New city, new start, new life. 

At least, you were hoping it would be that easy but it wasn’t. At first, you didn’t know where to go but you eventually decided to move to a small town in Ohio. She was your only family, you couldn’t imagine being far from her. Even if the only thing left is a stone with her name engraved on it, not even a body, you still wanted to be as close as you could.

The way everything happened made your grief journey harder. The worst is that you didn’t even get to say goodbye. Every time you think about it you can feel how your stomach twists. The last time you saw her, you were oblivious she would be dead the next one. 

As half of the population, you disappeared for five years because of Thanos. Five years for the one who stayed but it felt like a few seconds to you, barely the time to blink but yet you missed so much. 

You are blaming yourself for that. Even now, you are convinced that things would have gone a different way if you were here, that you could have done something. It probably wouldn’t have changed a thing, Natasha being stubborn, but being angry and denial is your way to deal with the pain of a loss.

Whenever you can, you are paying a visit to her gravestone. Sometimes, you would stay for a few days, refusing to leave : how could you when you know that she died alone ? Most of her life she thought she was alone, she didn’t deserve to die like that. So, now that she is gone, you are doing everything you can to make up for that, to let her know that you will always be here. 

You firmly believe that, wherever she is right now, she is looking at you and knows what you are doing, you need to believe that she can hear and see you because it means you are not alone. Even death can’t separate two persons.

That is why you have prepared this visit for days, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect for your lover. You prepared a whole picnic, everything being homemade, and decided to wear one the last outfit you bought together, a classy dress. You even braided your hair for the occasion. That is why your hairstyle is looking like a mess, it has never been your thing, Natasha usually being the one to do it. 

Some people would find it weird to celebrate her death date but it is really important to you. Painfull, for sure, but still important. That day, a year ago, she sacrified her life for the world and she deserves some gratitude. You feel like too many people don’t even know she is the one that saved them, the rest refusing to acknowledge what she did just because of her past. Even your former teammates don’t bother to care. 

So you decided to pay her a visit so you can celebrate her actions like the world should have. However, it doesn’t make you less angry or hateful against the whole world.

You check your bag one more time to make sure you didn’t forget anything. You are feeling a bit stressed because you really want everything to be perfect. After that last glance, you secure it at the back of your bike, ready to go.

Her gravestone is only thirty minutes from where you live. As you are lost in your thoughts, the journey felt like a few seconds. 

You realize you are almost at your destination when you enter the forest. Natasha’s grave is not in a cemetery but in a lovely clearing. As there was no body to bury, you were able to place it wherever you wanted. You spent days and nights thinking about the perfect place to eventually choose this one. It is in a lovely clearing in Ohio, a quiet and hidden place. Only a few people know her grave is here, she didn’t have a lot of family. 

You leave your bike against a tree on the roadside.

After a few minutes walk, you arrive at the clearing. You know she would have loved that place. A smile on your face, you take your time to settle everything around the grave. You brought a blanket, to sit in, a lot of food and even a speaker so you can play music. It feels the silence, making things less awkward for you. 

Obviously, you didn’t forget to bring a gift and some flowers. This time, you choose roses because they have always remembered you of her : they sting but yet are so delicate and gracious. She used to mock you for that, never answering your “ if you were a flower, which one would you be ? ” kind of questions. So you had to figure out the answers by your own. 

However, you know that, deep down, she was enjoying it. She would stay for hours, listening to your explanations about why she would be that drink rather than another one, with a faint smile on her face. She was just too stubborn to admit it. 

The thought of the past makes a sad smile appear on your face as you are replacing the old flowers with the roses you brought.  

“ I- ” once you have settled in, sitting on the blanket with the food out of the bags, you start talking. Except that, once again, you don’t know where to start. “ I made peanut butter sandwiches, … more than the last time. ”

Those are her favourites. She has always refused to share hers but, sometimes, she would make some for you so you had a snack when you came back from a mission. 

Now, you have to do them by yourself and it doesn’t taste the same, it doesn’t taste love. Yet, you still ended up eating the dozen you made last time you visited. In your defense, you were crying and it is the only thing that could bring you some comfort. 

However, you are still feeling bad for not leaving at least one for her so you decided to make some more this time. A lot more if you are being honest. 

“ Anyway, what can I say … ” you are thinking out loud. It is your thing, coming here and telling her everything that is going on in your life. 

Sometimes, you even come here just to share with her something that happened during your day. A bad or a good story, it doesn’t matter, you would come here immediately without considering what time it is when the urge to talk to her hits you. 

Once, you pedaled here in the middle of the night. It was creepy, if you are being honest, so you didn’t do it ever again. Plus, you are sure Natasha wouldn’t appreciate it.

“ I have found a new job. I am a cashier now and it is going well for the moment, I didn’t throw anything at a client yet ” you say, feeling proud about that fact.

A few months ago, you were fired from your job as a waitress for that reason. You definitely don’t have the patience or the tact required by that kind of work. 

“ Even if the clients are really annoying. It is frustrating, you know ? I am being yelled at all day, talked like shit and insulted but I don’t even have the right to be rude ” you stop talking for a few seconds, taking a deep breath - you won’t let the anger you feel towards these people ruin this moment. “ I liked it better when we were kicking bad guys’ asses. ”

You are thinking about this part of your life with nostalgia. You never had a normal job. When you were seventeen, you dropped out of high school so you could join the army. Somehow, mainly because of your curiosity, you ended up in some dirty stories - that is how the S.H.I.E.L.D noticed you, offering you to become one of their agents.

It is only a few years ago that you made the decision to leave the agency to be a part of the Avengers. It was a difficult choice to make but you did it because you wanted to follow Natasha, even a few years ago, you already couldn’t imagine living far from her. 

The two of you met when she joined the agency. As you, when you became an agent, she was lonely. Everyone was avoiding her because of the rumors about her past. You immediately thought it was unfair - if Fury thinks she has a place here, then you can trust her for sure. Plus you knew how it feels to be in that situation. 

So you decided to step up, being the first and only one that has tried to talk to her the first years. You never left her side since, always defending her when the others were talking dirt behind her back - which got you into a lot of trouble.

All that stuff, being a cashier or a waitress, is not something you are used to, you don’t think you are cut out for this kind of work. If you are being honest with yourself, you hate those jobs, you are just not ready to go back working for Fury. 

When you came back, he let you know that there will always be a place for you as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, you thanked him but said no. For the moment, you just want to give a try to those normal jobs, even if fitting in is harder than you thought, being undercover having nothing in common with living it for real.

“ I also decided to eventually repair the broken things in my apartment. So far, I’ve fixed the front door, the fridge and the light in the living room. I think it is a good start, don’t you ? ” you wait a few seconds for an answer but, obviously, the only one you get is the silence. You eventually chuckle. “ I still hate that place tho’ ” and since you moved in, you can’t wait for the day you will be able to afford a better place. 

But for now you are stuck in that small, dilapidated and cold apartment, trying to convince yourself that it could be worse.

“ Anyway, I am here because I have a little something for you … ” you start, trying to not smile too hard. You take the present out of the bag, it is something in a dark blue box of the size of your hands. “ Ready ? ” you ask but it is more for you this time. You take a deep breath before you resume. “ Natasha Romanoff, for saving the world for so many years, for sacrificing your life for the sake of Humanity and, most important, for ... being the love of my life ... I have the honor to give you a medail ” your acting broke on the last sentence, the fake enthusiasm being replaced by sadness. 

Once you are done with your little speech, you carefully put the medail on the grave, with the flowers and the other presents. 

It is not a real medail, you asked someone to make it. It is supposed to be a replacement for the one the government refused to give her, even if she deserved it. Her name on a wall is the only thing she got from them.

“ But don’t think it means I forgive you. It was very stupid, but yet very … you … to sacrifice yourself for us. You always thought you had a redemption to earn ” you stop talking, trying to hold back your tears. “ And maybe it was true that people never trusted you but I did. I trusted you and you left me like that. I didn’t even get to say goodbye or … or … to give you a last hug. I- I blinked and, just like that, you were … gone, forever ” your voice is shaking, the last sentence being noticed more than a whisper. As tears are running down your cheeks, you still find the strength to add one more thing. “ I will never forgive you ” you say in a quiet voice.

You weren’t ready to lose her, you had plans for your future together. You were supposed to buy a lovely home and found a happy family. She shouldn’t have died before you could live your life together, before you had your happy ending. Only age should have taken her away from you, except that she decided otherwise. 

She has always been so stubborn and so hard on herself because of the things she did in the past. You truly believe that, if someone deserved a peaceful life, it is her but it is too late now that she is gone. The idea that you never had a chance to show her how sweet life can be is making you sick, you should have convinced her to leave earlier. 

When you came back from the dust, you were alone and lost. Not only did you need to accept that five years of your life have been stolen but you also had to learn how to live without the woman you love. It is the hardest thing you ever had to do in your life.  “ But … I love you so much, my idiot ” you eventually whisper. “ I just wish you were still here to hear that … ”

[slayingqueenchal]

All because of a silly little niffler, and a necklace| James Potter x f!reader

Reader is Slytherin, the same year as James, James pulls a big prank to snape but instead, you got it and everyone's making fun of you. Somehow reader is muggleborn in slytherin, cheesy love story, no smut

"Y/n, can you open this box for me? " Severus asked, giving you a very bright yellow and red box, that's moving.

"Fine" You were tired of severus's 'can you's' so you might as well do it.

Inside. A niffler jumped at you and you fell to the floor. It took your necklace off, a very special necklace to you, and you can hear laughs already, as the niffler walked across your body.

A boy named Regulus catched it and a first year helped him put it in the box, seems like they were the only one's who actually has a heart.

"Wasn't me" Severus puts his hands up and laughed. All this because you were a 'mudblood' as they say it. You were a muggleborn, but, clearly better than the pureblood maniacs. Even Severus is not a pureblood, he's a halfblood and treating hisself like he's one of the Black's.

You stood up and ran outside of the common room, even outside, you can hear people chiming in 'y/n the mudblood, is she gonna cry'. You've never seen nor heard Slytherin be this evil.

You didn't know were your feet was bringing you , but you walked, and walked, and walked, and bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry! " You put your hands down, to show your bright red face of sadness, but mostly embarrassment.

"Uhm, y/n, right, uhh, what's wrong? " A guy asks. Messy hair, glasses. Well, his voice too, was iconic, James Potter. The guy your fancied since year one, you were suprised that he even knew your name. Well you sniffed, just like a niffler and wiped your tears, you were more embarrassed now.

"Severus told me to open this box, and there was a niffler and It took my necklace, and plus, all the Slytherin's were laughing at me! " You cringed at the moment, remembering when many slytherins laughed, mostly the purebloods.

"Snivel-- snape? H-how dare he? " James stuttered. "James.. Don't tell me it's one of your pranks? " You asked him, disappointed, but honestly not surprised.

"Uh-uhm, I'm sorry, yes, but I swear I'll find you the necklace! And do things to snape, im sorry! " He said. "Oh.. James.. Well, you said sorry, and i guess it's fine, I can buy myself a new one.. Later" You said. If you hadn't fancied him for years, you would've screamed at him and made him pay back but, he is James Potter.

"How much is it? The necklace, of course" James asked. "Sixty galleons, I know you might laugh at me for crying at a sixty gall-" He cuts you off "sixty?! Sixty?! Oh my Lord, y/n I'm sorry! Can I buy you a new one, or-or something? " James eyes lit up.

"No, it's fine.. James, you didn't meant it, I mean it was severus's fault, and uhm, I need to go now, James, have a goodnight! " You faked your smile.

Walking down to the halls, you were sad about your necklace, you loved it. It glows yellow if you're happy, blue if you're sad, red if you're mad, pink if you're adoring something or someone, purple if you're confused, and green if you're sick.

You walked to the common room, in hope to find the box and Regulus, but just to get told that after you left, the niffler left too.

Well, you got to bed, sick to your stomach that you declined 60 galleons, and humiliated yourself, in front of the whole common room and james.

The next day was worst, you got a nickname 'y/n the sniffing niffler'. It was getting worst that you left your food almost untouched.

A week passed by, you didn't go Hogsmeade, cause you've seen everything there, and it's not like you can afford many things there.

You instead enjoyed reading some books, the fantastic beast, while drinking tea. You enjoyed the quietness and the weirdness of the creature's.

Until that peace was disturbed by the sound of someone running. "Y/n, you can't believe it, I've been searching you all day! " It was James.

"James Potter, looking for me, what? " You looked at him confused. "Y/n I'm sorry about your necklace, I found the niffler and.. It chewed it up" James said, his chest going up and down after all thw running.

"As expected, that's alright, James" You looked at your book back. "No, uhm-y/n, I bought you a necklace, from the same exact shop" James said. You looked at him, and there he had it, a similar necklace, thats shining pink.

"James, oh my gosh! " It felt as if you were the happiest person in the world. "Thankyou so so so much! " You stood up and hugged him, dramatic and cheesy, but you just had the urge to. Imagine getting a necklace from the guy you had a crush on for years, and imagine him putting it on to you, well, you don't need to imagine now.

He puts the necklace on to you. "Beautiful, as always" He smiled. The necklace gleamed yellow and pink. Well, around him the necklace is always yellow and pink, mostly pink.

"Seems like you adore me, don't you little thing? " James grinned. "How did you know, wait, no! I'm happy! Do you even know what pink means? " You asked him, stuttering.

"Oh, love, you must know that everyone who buys it gets clear instructions of what the colors means, right?" James grinned.

"See James, the problem is that uhm, it's pink because.. " You paused, immediately regretting what you just said. "Because? " James shot an 'innocent' eye to you.

"Oh geez, James you know it, ive liked you since first year" You looked down. "You can take it back if your disgusted of me, resell it or something" .

"Look at me, love" He said. James, has this special power that makes you do whatever he says, and you looked at him.

He smashed your lips into yours, while holding your chins up to him. Softly and gently, you two pulled away. "Mhm, I think we both know I like you back and you're keeping the necklace forever. Y/n y/l/n, the most beautiful, and nicest girl I've met, would you like to be my girlfriend? " James looks at you dead in the eye. You of course said yes.

This evening was not what he expected, he expected you to take the necklace and leaves, but, this is way better obviously.

[spontaneousglitterbees]

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The paper has it spelled out like sunrise over a lake; she can’t help but look at it until she has to make herself look away. Her first ‘client’, the fellow student she’s meant to be shadowing for the week, the person she is tasked with protecting if she wants to pass this class after transferring in partway through the semester is none other than–

“Ooh, bad luck.”

(Part of the TAPP AU, also on Ao3)

Ouma’s voice squeaks out from beside her upper arm so suddenly she flinches.

“Oh please, Harukawa, don’t tell me I caught you off guard. That’s like, your entire thing, now!” he sounds so jovial, without a care in the world, but his chest heaves as though he also just shuddered down to the core.

“You did this.” She states it without room for uncertainty.

“Why the hell would I do that?” he flicks his hand toward the sheet of printer paper pinned to the corkboard, the one that has condemned them for the next one-hundred-sixty-eight hours. It’s up there for the whole school to see. “It’s not even my MO to hack this school’s ancient copy machine, or whatever, I’m out for a good time. Besides, I’d like to live, thanks much.”

Maki is entirely unimpressed. “It is precisely your MO to stomp on my nerves in every way you can,” she enunciates with each step forward.

His grip tightens around the handle of his cane, still smiling. His knuckles threaten to rip themselves to shreds.

“Actually,” a voice chimes in, stern but not unkind. “It makes perfect sense, does it not? You are both in Class 79, which ought to alleviate some of the initial awkwardness.”

Silver hair catching the artificial overhead light, teaching assistant and upperclassman Peko Pekoyama overshadows the pair from behind. “Besides, as the Ultimate…” her eyes narrow, incredulous. “... Supreme Leader, Ouma is going to need a security detail someday.”

Maki glares up at her for all of a split second before dutifully lowering her gaze. It's less that the Ultimate Swordsman is intimidating than that she's so... coldly supportive. The kind of person whose praise is lined with mist and whose fury is a downpour. It'd be a shame to disappoint her, especially over Kokichi, of all people.

"Oh, but Peko-peko-chan, don't you know? Maki and I have been sworn enemies since we were kids! You'd really let that mean ol' teacher pair me up with my nemesis?! That's so cruel!" Kokichi leans in on his cane for leverage, arms crossed in front of him as he acts out the phrase in big, encompassing gestures. That's a lie. But...

Unfortunately for both of them, it only seems to reassure Peko that the path forward is clear. "It'll be a fine challenge for the both of you, then. You’ll be able to focus on two objectives at once: gaining experience staying alert, and equal experience working with difficult clients.”

Kokichi scoffs in the background, of course, but it's hardly worth arguing. He tries to get in your head and stay there, after all. If anything, being ‘difficult’ is a point of pride for him. His eye still seems to twitch a little at the admission. It’s probably just the dry autumn air.

Maki, inventing new curses in her head and keeping them there, nods sagely. "Of course, Ms. Pekoyama. I won't let you down."

She looks over to her current mark.

It's going to be a long week.

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

The week starts off innocuous enough. The worst of it comes at the beginning of each day as Kokichi pulls his books out of his locker. Literature, World History, ... Calculus II? Each slams into the floor with a resounding thud, one after another.  Some of them won't even see use until near the end of the school day, but he insists she carry them now. Spiteful little shit.

Many of their general education classes are shared to begin with, fortunately, meaning the two of them simply have to walk between classes together for a while. It isn’t quite embarrassing as much as it is frustrating for Maki. Does he even really need a cane, or is it just a ploy to get the teacher’s sympathy? They saunter down the hallway in either case, uncaring of the actual time they arrive. Five minutes late, ten minutes, even; neither incurs a penalty, a bit of an affront to her own persistent punctuality. ‘This school is his’ indeed.

No. The real trouble starts brewing during their free periods.

"The autumn leaves are home to a variety of bug species," lectures Gonta, sitting cross-legged in the courtyard. Kokichi sits beside him, dredging through a pile of leaves; pick up, flip, sort, over and over. Maki remains stock-still and focused on defense. Peko could be hiding around any given corner, assisting a teacher lying in wait for an ambush just to make a point about vigilance. 

But it’s a bit hard to stay on edge when things are so… unremarkable. So normal. 

"As an example, early-emerging populations of Actias luna in North America lay eggs on the undersides of leaves to keep larvae and pupas safe during winter until the adults appear in March." Despite Gonta’s better efforts choosing a more palatable bug for discussion, neither Kokichi nor Maki seems to be paying actual attention. 

"Which has to be why the leaf piles make such a good crunch when you jump in'em, riiiiight?" Kokichi teases, crushing the pile of leaves he's sorted beneath the base of his palm. He throws his back into the motion with a sadistic smile. It breaks into the same mischievous laugh as usual soon after, nishishi~! 

Gonta, however, seems unalarmed; perhaps he sees the un-smashed pile, the ones with even just the potential to have 'stuff on'em'. Instead, he smiles. "That might be the beetles, they love hiding in leaves."

"Ewwww!" Kokichi wipes his hand on his pants, despite the distinct lack of bug entrails on them. "Great! Gonta, you can't just ruin fall like that! Now I'm gonna be thinking about nasty beetles when I just wanted to have some fun..." he makes a point to frown, but seeing no real reaction the expression disappears as quickly as it came. 

"I not– I'm not ruining fall, it's too hot out to be real fall. It's messing with the bugs’ hibernation cycles...."

Maki finds she's won a fourth consecutive mental game of tic-tac-toe with herself before she finally sighs. Would it be out of line to suggest going inside? Perhaps a more enclosed space will help her readjust to the objective. 

Before she can suggest such a thing, Kokichi beats her to it.

“Yeah, it’s waaaay too hot out for September, I’m beat. Harukawa-chan, can we go back inside now?” he doesn’t bother to pout, eyes going from half-lidded to three-quarters wide seeing the barely-contained irritation on Maki’s face. 

“Gladly.” She stands without hesitation, turning to Gonta. “Thank you for having us.”

“Of course, is only polite thing to do,” smiles Gonta. Kokichi is a touch intrigued.

“What are you thanking him for, I bet you weren’t even listening! You haven’t taken that scowl off your face all day.” He leans a bit to his left, accentuating the roll of his eyes.

“I knew that you wouldn’t.” Maki says simply, opening the cold glass door.

Kokichi is shocked, appalled he’d tell you, with a loud gasp! Then he shrugs a little. “Eh. I wasn’t bored, anyway.”

Gonta waves, cheerful as ever, as the door swings shut.

The foot of his cane practically skids across the terrazzo tile as Kokichi takes off down the hall.

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” Maki asks before she can think better of it; Ouma is still faster than she’d given him credit for.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Ultimate Assassin.” The reply comes quick and sharp, bitterness rising in his voice that hasn’t seen the light of day since well before the game ended.

Before she can ask ‘why now?’ or some such thing, as though there’s any logic behind what Ouma does in the first place, he’s looking at her expectantly from his perch just at the threshold of the main library doorway.

“Dunno about you, but I, for one, have homework. I’m looking for a book, silly, don’t you guys use those?” he shakes his head lightly, keeping the door open by leaning on it and waiting for her to go through. It takes a moment of the two staring at one another to determine who is going to relent; Maki walks a step inside as Kokichi beelines for the reading chairs.

Ah, the reading chairs. Only marginally more acceptable than the stiff, borderline crunchy upholstery of most of the furniture on campus. At least there’s no punishment for sitting on these. Surrounded by deep forest green carpets and a dim, subdued atmosphere one risks sinking into should they stay still for too long, the library is quiet. Starkly quiet. The sound of breathing itself seems to echo, not at all damped by the depth of archways and sub-sections of books and books upon books.

Kokichi looks idly up at the rafters, looking for something he must not find.

“What’s wrong?” Maki reluctantly asks, curiosity overpowering her better sense.

“It’s hot in here,” Ouma replies, his voice… uncharacteristically soft. It’s impossible to tell what emotion comes attached, if there is one at all.

“The air conditioning has been broken in this building all day, I hear.”

There is an awkward silence between them, an absolute vacuum of small-talk.

He takes a deep breath, only to look back over at Maki. “Welp. This place is huge, so. Might as well get crackin’, book’s not gonna find itself!” He smiles a little too wide for his face as he launches upright, looking over his shoulder and taking off into the canopy of books. “Be back in a bit!”

“Alright,” says Maki, striding over to meet him. “Where are we going first?”

Kokichi shakes his head. He’s sorely mistaken if he thinks it’ll be that easy to get rid of you. “Hmm, iunno. I’ll know it when I see it,” he chirps as he changes directions, taking a few dizzying turns before coming to a brief pause.

What is his problem? What does he get out of making this difficult for the both of you? Surely boredom can’t overtake the selfish want to do less work… yet, sure enough, he’s speed-walking away again.

Maki doesn’t need to look up to explain the sudden chill down her spine.

“Kiyo-chan! Fancy meetin’ you here,” Ouma laughs, stepping to the shelf opposite Korekiyo as Maki walks up to the two of them.

“Not exactly, Ouma, you know quite well I’ve been tasked with the maintenance of some of the anthropology department’s rarer books,” Kiyo shakes his head, adjusting his mask. “... No, I won’t be taking you to them. I was actually looking for a project on Minoan mythos in relation to pre-Hellenic…” he cuts himself off. 

Really, Maki thinks to herself, it’s hard to believe this awkward kid could have been the monster he once was. That’s the thing about monsters, though, isn’t it? In real life they don’t have horns or tails like the minotaur…. 

“Say. What are you visiting the library for? Your field is not precisely predicated on a large literary basis, is it?” 

“Kiyo-chaaaaan! No fair! Are you telling me I don’t look like I read? ‘Cuz I can read plenty, as long as it’s not BORING me to death!!” Kokichi leans on his cane, slightly swaying. “I like libraries. They’re like obstacle courses, and half the time nobody is even in them to get in the way!” he smiles. “But that’s a lie.”

“He’s looking for a book,” Maki chimes in, startling both Korekiyo and Kokichi back a few steps. 

“Oh, is that all? What kind of book are you looking for, Ouma? Certainly I could be of assistance.” Kiyo nods, possibly(?) smiling, and at the very least visibly trying to maintain a less standoffish posture.

“That won’t be–”

“Binary star formation,” the two phrases come in at the same time. Kokichi continues, “and the history of their discovery.” 

Kiyo stares at Kokichi for a moment, in (confusion? Disbelief? It’s difficult to tell, with so much of his face obscured and those piercing eyes ready to strike at any time…) before nodding. “Of course. I believe I recall where that one is, it was returned quite recently.”

Ouma stares idly into the distance for a split-second, an automaton re-calibrating on the fly. “Right. Duh, but I need it now, so.” 

Sure enough, Korekiyo is only away for a matter of minutes before returning with a single large tome. The book seems more focused on general astronomical phenomena, but must have a chapter or two dedicated to binary stars. Should have picked something more obscure, Maki huffs at the thought, if you really just wanted to cause trouble. Let me guess, that isn’t–

“That’s exactly it!” says Kokichi, who excitedly starts flipping through the pages. Korekiyo looks like he wants to scold him, be more careful, but restrains himself from doing so. Nonetheless, the two share a look; Kokichi suddenly feels like maybe he should slow down, lest unsavory things happen to his nerves. 

Just a feeling.

Things look, for once, to be going well again. Ouma is reading (or, at least, glaring at a page), freeing up Maki’s attention to better scope out the area.

… At least, until “Kiyo-chan? The text is so small, I can barely read a thing!”

Don’t get involved, don’t worry about it, Maki, you have a mission!

“Then why don’t you take it back to one of the reading areas? It’s certain to be brighter there.”  Korekiyo shrugs, back to looking at the shelf ahead.

“Can’t you read it to me, Kiyo-chan? Pleeeease, you have such a nice reading voice!”

Korekiyo stops, for a moment, glaring at Kokichi. “And that’s a lie, certainly.”

“What! You’re calling me a liar! Kiyo-chan, that’s so, s-so,,” the tears start to well up, if only slightly. Is he losing his touch with the waterworks? “Accurate, yeah, but not this time! If I didn’t tell the truth some of the time, it’d make the lies too obvious! And that’s no fun at all.”

“... Ah,” says Kiyo, uncertain of how to take a compliment.

“So?”

“Oh yes, right. Hmm. It can’t be that large of a diversion, surely…”

Such is how Korekiyo winds up over by the reading chairs, telling a dubiously-interested Kokichi about disk and turbulent fragmentations. “Where the instability and arbitrary motion cause a core to split off into multiple masses of gas and dust that collapse into independent protostars,” so the reading goes, “that are close enough to one another they become entangled in mutual orbit.” 

Maki can hardly say she’s particularly invested, even if it would be nice to have a better idea of what Kaito’s blathering on about half the time now that classes are in full swing. Still, something in her can’t help but hang on to this itch of unease, as though at any moment something will go wrong. She’s supposed to be watching Kokichi, but finds herself looking more at Kiyo than the surroundings. There is no danger there, anymore, though you’d have been more likely to get hurt than Ouma. But this feeling you can’t… no. That you refuse to name, this resentment, it takes residence in your bones and won’t let go. Is it because he’s been programmed as having been a killer? Aren’t you the very same? And when it really mattered, didn’t both of you decide to k–

The slightest sound makes Maki jump into action, fists at the ready to block an incoming blow, only. Huh. It seems it was just the weight of the book closing.

Kokichi sits up a little straighter, speaking a little louder (before, begrudgingly, quieting down, because this is a library). “Thank you, Kiyo-chan~ That would’ve been soooo boring to get through alone, you know? Nishishi, I’ll still be expecting your application for DICE one of these days! Best not disappoint,” he leans back in the chair, only to swing up to standing.

Korekiyo simply rolls his eyes, but there’s something undoubtedly fond in the gesture. If there weren’t, the fact would make itself known near-immediately; instead, Kiyo simply picks up the book to put it back on the shelf. “Is that all you needed, then?” 

Kokichi exaggerates a sigh. “Not by a longshot, but I think I left the rest in Miu’s lab,” he rolls his head back, momentarily looking at the spot where Maki has planted herself, arms crossed. “So I gotta run. Laters!”

As Kokichi is picking his cane back up (and staring at the foot for a moment, making sure he’s placed it on the correct side for now. Working on making the ruse more realistic, perhaps, Maki posits, though she dares not say such a thing aloud), Maki nods in acknowledgement of Kiyo. 

After an awkward pause, Kiyo nods back. “Miss Harukawa.”  

But the pair are off again, out of the library and en-route to Miu’s lab.

The silence between the two of them is thick. Neither is perturbed by the light traffic traveling in either direction down the hall, staying steps apart but not quite identifiable as a ‘group’. Much remains unsaid between the two. Neither dares disrupt the precarious balance maintaining a stoic facade, and the awkward silence stays.

At least, while only in the company of one another.

“Hey!” Kokichi yells, swinging open the door to Miu’s lab with reckless abandon, startling a very focused Chihiro and Kazuichi sitting at the far end of a long table. “Where’s that boisterous blonde–”

“That is the best most bodacious boisterous blonde bitch to you, ‘ya shitstain.” Miu looks up from her workbench, approaching the opposite side of the long table with a haughty laugh. 

“Mm, nope. Too wordy. Might mistake you for a nerd,” he teases, pointing up and down at a Miu dressed in her lab coat and covered from goggles to toe in smears of motor oil.

“Oh please, haven’t you figured out yet that I’m beauty and a brain?”

“And a nerd, yeah, I got that.”

The pair bicker like old friends, though it’s only recently they’ve had a chance to talk over their time in the killing game. Perhaps it’s easier for them to act like it never happened; it’d be hypocritical of Maki to judge.

Although…

“So you’ll concede she’s beautiful?” Maki tugs on her hair, wrapping it around her finger with a smirk. One sentence sparks a good five minutes of playful arguing, nuh-uh yuh-uh, and mild shoulder-punching. In terms of the assignment, it’s permissible, but on thin ice.

The perimeter seems clear in here, anyway, only the five of them. Chihiro and Kazuichi seem too engrossed in whatever project they’re working on to bat an eye at the two’s banter, and there’s no good angle for an ambush. Besides, it’d be irresponsible to initiate a confrontation with so many metal scraps and machines around. Still, she has to remain on alert.

… Though she can’t help but listen when she hears Miu launch into a small tirade: “What I’m always working on, dumbass, and a couple things besides. Picture this: you’re me, and you’re ‘getting a regular checkup’ because you’re ‘recovering from a traumatic experience’ and all that junk. And I’m sitting there, wasting valuable workable time between classes, just for them to call me up to do, like, the same three tests they always do? And I think to myself, man, wouldn’t it be genius if you could just step into a booth, or a pod, or something like that when you get there, and it does all of that preliminary stuff on you at once so you can just be done with it already? And this was like, two? Days ago? So you know I have a prototype.”

Kokichi looks nonplussed, to say the least.

“Haven’t you been working on anything less… totally mundane, than that? Maybe like a shrink ray, or a portal device or a body-swapper, or something exciting?”

“Well, you know I’m building an android, but we all know how you feel about that.”

“I do not need the list of features you’re giving that thing. Nobody, needs the list of features you’re giving that thing.”

“W-W, h-hey! I’m not gonna be weird about it,” Miu pouts, voice getting soft for a moment. “That’s like, totally crossing a line…” only to pick back up. “Nah, I’m not gonna load in any kinky shit until I can ask him about it!”

“Is that finally an answer to the question I’ve been asking for like three months now? We’re going with ‘robots only have dicks upon request?’”

Maybe it’s better to stop listening, actually. Not that Maki is given the choice.

“Point is, I still need a test subject! Why not you, while you’re right here? Every experiment we’ve run so far has been demonstrably fine, quit your worry-warting already ‘ya buzzkill.” Miu scoffs, rolling out a wardrobe-sized booth on a dolly.

“But Iruma-channnn,”  Kokichi whines. His eye twitches, scanning the new device up and down, only more resolute that “there’s no way I’m gonna go in there unless it’s got AC!”

“That can be arranged,” says Miu, writing at the bottom of a spare paper. “Now, get over here so we can get this show on the road!” 

“Nnnnn can’t make me.”

“Come on.”

“Nah.”

“It’ll be fine!”

“For you, maybe.”

“You know what? Fine. Hey Maki!” Miu calls, waving to where Maki is stationed around the corner. “C’mon, this’ll only take, like, two minutes, you in?”

Great. You’ve been Acknowledged.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Maki starts to stammer, but Kokichi has suddenly lit up.

“Ooh! Do it, do it Maki!”

“I really don’t think I should distract from–”

Suddenly, both Miu and Kokichi are peering over the table, all but pounding their fists against the wood as they chant “Do it, do it!”

If anything, their exuberance makes her want to give in less, but the coast is clear, for now… Chihiro gives Maki a withering look. Doesn’t seem like they’ll run out of steam any time soon. 

“... Fine.”

Kokichi and Miu turn to one another and high-five, cheering in unison. 

“Great,” Miu breezes by, opening an entrance to the box. “Come on in.”

Maki is immediately enveloped in what at first looks like a photo booth but, upon examination, has too many blinking lights and moving parts to be one. In lieu of a screen, a plexiglass barrier shows off the dim reflections of the moving mechanics, leaving the subject to back up into position. A thermometer pops out of the front panel at the same time as a blood pressure cuff restrains her left arm, a bar descending to the top of her head to record her height. Every metric is recorded on a tiny screen on the outside of the chamber.

Experiment: success. The device certainly does its job. Whether it’s been done well is questionable, but it certainly has been done.

Meanwhile, Kokichi has been lounging in quite possibly the single Good Chair in the entirety of Hope’s Peak, talking to Miu about something indistinct. By the time Maki walks out of the machine a matter of minutes has passed.

It feels like it’s been hours. 

And Maki is not happy.

“Ouma? I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait? I sorta–”

“Now. Ouma.”

Kokichi keeps his head down, but follows Maki’s footsteps.

“We’re leaving. Goodbye, Miu. Hope you got your data.” Maki states, perfectly deadpan. She turns, practically dragging Ouma by the wrist.

“Harukawa, I’m sorry i–”

“That’s a lie,” Maki helpfully completes the thought, marching out into the hallway. “You’ve been lying all day, making up any excuse you can to be as distracting as possible just waiting for me to screw up. But it isn’t going to work. We are going, to your room, and you will stay there, and it will be quiet. Do you understand?”

Kokichi stops walking. He does not pull away from her hand any further than the natural distance that comes as he stops, glaring up at her with an oddly-canted eye. 

“You think you can ground me, Child-Caregiver? All I want is to hang out with my friends, and get to do it at a decent goddamn hour, and that’s SO bad? Aww, am I inconveniencing you? What would you rather be out doing. Huh? Would you rather be hunting me down for sport–”

Maki snaps out of her shock, shaking her head. “UGH! Not everything is always about YOU, you know!” She storms a few steps ahead.

“Well excuse me if you aren’t exactly open about your hobbies,” Kokichi scoffs, jogging up a few more stumbling steps to meet her. “If you insist on making our little forced-bonding-time absolutely miserable, I guess, be my fucking guest.”

“It’s not about fun, it’s about salvaging the entirety of this semester! Out of all of us, you should understand that!”

“Oh, so there is an ‘us’! I thought it a mere myth on the breeze, oh please, Harukawa, regale me with tales of how our miserable myriad of troubled teens that calls itself a class constitutes any kind of Unit,” he coughs on the end, running out of breath. A bit of spit drips from the corner of his mouth, hastily wiped away by a hand before he makes a big swinging gesture with his cane. 

This, it turns out, is a mistake.

First, his cane clatters to the floor. In and of itself, this isn’t surprising; at least it didn’t go through a window or otherwise launch across the hall, instead dropping down at Kokichi’s side.

Then Kokichi falls down with it.

He nearly faceplants, the only buffer coming in the form of outstretched arms in front of him that immediately buckle. 

Maki stifles half of a laugh. That’s what your overly-theatrical-ass gets when you try to act larger than life itself. She holds out a hand to help him back up. Frustrated as she may be, she isn’t cruel.

… But he doesn’t take it.

In fact, Kokichi doesn’t seem to be moving much at all.

Thinking fast, she immediately turns him onto his side in a recovery position. Still breathing– heavily, at that, as it’s taking up the majority of his focus just to do that much. It’s a full minute before he starts trying to talk. 

“Mmaki’alls sumiki,” is about all he can say, saliva rolling down his face, eyes glassy. One eye moves slower than the other as he tries to look up at her in that disturbingly blank way of his.

He says it again.

She doesn’t know what to do.

In for four, hold for four, out for four.

You can’t react this way to a little surprise. Cool heads prevail, Maki, you know this.

She feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Maki? Thank goodness I was following you. Listen, both of you, I’ve called my classmate Mikan. She is a nurse. What I need you to do, Maki, is help me pick him up. Ouma, just keep breathing…” Peko Pekoyama commands, picking up the cane to carry with her bag as she prepares to pick up Kokichi.

There’s an upset indignant note from him, an ‘uh, no shit,’ that pierces through the existential terror. That’s a good sign. That means not every scrap of consciousness needs to be dedicated just to staying alive. “I ‘ust, ‘eed’an ninit,” he tries to speak again, getting steadily more exasperated with himself. Even so, he does not cry.

No matter how he may want to, he does not cry.

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

Kokichi Ouma finds himself in a hospital room yet again. Maki Harukawa, however, finally finds herself at liberty to have him out of sight as she leans against the closed door.

Now you can panic.

“Maki?” Peko asks, tilting Maki’s chin up to meet her gaze.

Nevermind.

“You did the right thing, initially. Okay? You put him in a position where he could breathe, which is probably the most important thing you could have done.”

Maki stammers, tugging on her hair with an iron grip. “I did not do the right thing, initially. That’s the problem,” she admits, shaking her head. It’s difficult to stifle the ghost of tears blocking out her vision.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Peko asks, guiding Maki over to sit in a pair of chairs beside one of the many windows on this floor. 

No matter how hard she tries to stop them, once they start the words won’t stop flowing. “I mean that it’s my fault he’s like this!”

“... Maki, I saw it, it was an accide–”

“In the game, I shot him. Twice. With laced bolts, he. He just took Kaito, and was planning, s-something, and we were all so scared and I thought he was going to kill him so I covered them in strike-nine, and I shot him. Twice! And I went for a third…”

Peko is taken aback for a moment. Class 79 tends not to talk about their experiences in the simulation, so to hear things like shot and kill only confirm every terrible rumor she’s heard about the entire debacle. She blinks, once, then twice.

“Maki, I. I had no idea.”

Maki pulls on her hair, looping it around her whole hand and it still isn’t enough. “I know, I know, I’m an assassin, Ms. Pekoyama, and he’s the only mark I’ve ever actually killed myself.”

Peko is loath to let the silence spread between the two of them, yet she isn’t sure of what to say. Still, she says anyway: “I am. So sorry, that happened between you two. I assure you, I did not have an understanding of this. History, before I suggested you be paired together.”

“A-and now, now it’s my fault he collapsed, because whatever is wrong with him started because I poisoned him, because I’m a heartless, murder machine a-and,,” Maki hiccups, a hand over her face. She hasn’t even gotten this far into the story with her therapist, yet she sees enough of herself in Peko to entrust her with this secret.

“... I know what it is like to live with regret.” Peko offers. “It is never easy to choose one life over another. I don’t think that it should be, either. You should never have had to make that choice, but you did, and you made it as well as anyone could. You wanted to defend your friends, Maki, and you did. You cannot agonize about how things might have been after the fact if you want to move forward.”

Maki just stares at her hands, and cannot scrub away the illusion they are bright, bold magenta.

“... Maki?”

But Maki is far down the hall, watching Kaito close the door to that damn hospital room, because he’s betrayed me, again. 

“... I hated him.” She takes a deep breath, and lets the words swish around in her mouth for a moment before spitting them back out: “I hated him. I wanted him to suffer. He was irritating, and a threat, and I didn’t– I don’t understand him, and I wanted him to get away from me and everyone I care about.” Deep breath in. “So I shot him, with a crossbow, and I laced the bolts with the slowest-acting poison I could find, so he wouldn’t know peace the same way the rest of us hadn’t.”

“Ah,” says Peko, surprised but without any tone of judgment. After all, it is Peko’s turn to think, wouldn’t that be hypocritical? “Multiple things can be true at once, you know. Just because some part of you wanted vengeance does not overwrite your intentions to defend. I’ve only ever known you to want to protect the innocent, Maki, and even if you haven’t always been that person, that is the kind of person you are becoming. Every last one of you was in significant distress at that time, and that includes you. You shouldn’t let self-hatred cloud your perception.”

Maki nods ever-so-slightly. 

“What you did was. Excessive, yes, and you should not have done it. But it is in the past now, Maki. The fact that you feel remorse for it proves you aren’t ‘heartless’. You made a poor decision, with a high price. All that can be done for it now is to atone in ways you can. Sometimes, remembrance is all you can offer. But you,” Peko points at the flower on Maki’s uniform, “have a unique gift in all of this. Ouma is still alive now. In this life, you can still make amends.”

Maki sniffs, then holds her breath. In for three, hold for five, hold for four, hold forever… the tears just won’t slow. “It was cruel. I, was cruel, I don’t. I don’t want to be that way, not even to him. I-I want to. Amends, I want to,”

Peko smiles. She takes both of Maki’s hands into her own. “Then you will. You’ve already started, after all.”

The more Maki thinks of it, this whole shadowing experience has shown off facets of Ouma’s personality she hadn’t seen before. He does not like bugs, but still tolerates them out of care for his friendship with Gonta. He could have been cruel and smashed all the leaves, but he picked out any that even may have had eggs on them. Kokichi could have been legitimately cruel, yet he wasn’t. Kiyo, quiet as he is these days, is willing to accept him because Kokichi has accepted him in return. Even Miu, after she tried to bash in his skull with a hammer, has come around to not just tolerating his presence, but coming to enjoy it. Enough to make a machine for the medical wing since he, her friend, is in and out of the hospital so often… so he’s claimed.

Maki can only reconcile now that at least some, possibly all of those claims of chronic pain and complications are very real. Part of her knew this all along, but didn’t want to believe it; it’s easier, after all, to lie to yourself. Hadn’t Kokichi said something to that effect, so long ago?

Despite how irritating he is, despite his best attempts to get under her skin, despite being Kokichi Ouma, he’s… admittedly, a decent friend when it counts. And, perhaps, someday they can be friends as well.

“I still. It. It’s so stupid,” she shakes her head. “I-I better not…”

“But you want to say it, right?” Peko nods.

“I still feel. Jealous? Kaito can do what he wants, of course, but ever since the simulation it’s felt like our trio with Shuichi is… different. Like he’s choosing Kokichi over us.” Over me, she does not say. Peko can see it in her watery eyes.

“That, I’ve certainly understood,” Peko laughs. “Sometimes the person you admire can be… short-sighted, maybe. But your admiration is your own, you know. You have to own it, and, if they don’t ultimately feel the same way…” She looks off into the distance. Imagining someone, no doubt.

“... Right. Right, thank you Ms. Pekoyama.”

“Just Peko is fine, Maki.”

“Thank you, Peko.”

“Of course.”

“... But maybe they do feel the same way. You. Never know until you ask, right?”

Peko snaps back to attention. “I… suppose.” 

“It’s just a matter of gathering the inner strength to ask, whether you like the answer or not. … I think you should,” Maki shrugs, drying her tears. “And maybe I should too.”

“Perhaps,” says Peko, unshaken as ever, until… she smiles, conspiratorially. “I will if you will.”

“Alright,” laughs Maki. “Deal. But I have someone I have to address first.”

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

Meanwhile, Kaito slowly closes the door to the hospital room. The cool air hits him almost immediately upon entering; the air conditioning must be turned up significantly higher than in the rest of the building. It’s a different room, this time; the slightly different decor is disorienting for a moment, while he allows it to be. There’s something far more important than misplaced flowers and chairs and abstract paintings at its center, though.

“Kokichi?”

There’s a disgruntled sigh from the hospital bed, and an equally disgruntled Kokichi hooked up to not-even-a-fourth-of the equipment he was last time, to Kaito’s knowledge, he actually had to stay here.

“‘eah. Yeah, ‘s me.” He even sounds tired, still slurring words together a touch at this point.

Kaito takes his left hand, the dominant side. The uninjured one.

Kokichi can barely curl his fingers around Kaito’s, for now.

“Like the worst case’a TMJ you ever had,” he tries to smile, but finds the effort fruitless to try. Out of everyone, Kaito won’t mind if you don’t pretend for him. He already knows what you are. “‘Cept it’s everywhere. Mostly.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking so much–”

“Tsumiki-chan said, as long as I focus on breathing, I can do what I want. Mostly wanna not-do-things, though. Boring. What’d you do today?”

“You’re asking me?” Kaito laughs, but humors the thought. “Class, mostly. Went out to train with Shuichi, he’s actually coming along pretty well. Still has trouble keeping up with me in the real world, though, lung capacity and all. Been missing Maki, though. She’s really trying her hardest for this class, you know, she’s even talking to that Peko girl right now.”

Kokichi looks away, both eyes now in-sync as he tries to look to the tile floor. “Yeah. She’s still Harukawa, alright.”

Probably not a great time to talk about it, it dawns on Kaito just a little too late.

“What even happened, man, can I ask that? Figure I may as well instead’a dancing around it,” Kaito says, just to banish the thought. To get it out of the way.

Kokichi laughs a little under his breath. It hurts, but there’s a degree to which he can’t help it. “Ask’er yourself.”

Kaito is confused for all of a moment before looking around the–

“Ah! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you! I-I just thought I could answer any q-questions, so Ouma doesn’t have to-o…” Mikan Tsumiki, Ultimate Nervous Wreck, holds her clipboard to her chest.

Kaito is beside himself, unsure of how to get her to calm back down. Kokichi’s hand squeezes his a little tighter. Give her a moment.

“R-Right, sorry, you were wondering about his condition, right? Ouma’s, I mean. T-There’s good news! And. Bad news, which we’ve already talked about before you arrived, or. I did most of the talking because he’s having a hard time at the moment, but you knew that– Bad news we’ve already talked about, and good news.” Mikan looks up at Kaito expectantly, straining a smile. 

“... Do you want me to pick one? Because I’m sure whatever the bad news is won’t look so bad compared to the good,” Kaito nods, resolute.

“Oh yeah, s-s. Sorry. Yeah. SO the good news is this is just a flare-up, probably caused by a mix of stress and the heat outside. He’s been doing a lot better in this building since we have a backup generator for our climate control,” she continues. “But the bad news is that if he doesn’t take care of his condition, he could end up in a full-blown crisis, mister,” a darkness casts over her eyes “and if you do you won’t be able to breathe on your own, then it’s back on a ventilator for up to weeks at a time, and I know how much you hate that.” She picks her head up. “But, hopefully it won’t come to that!”

… It’s a lot to take in at once.

“What. Exactly, is his condition? How could he deteriorate so suddenly?” Kaito asks despite Kokichi’s half-hearted protest.

“It wasn’t sudden. I’ve been feeling it all day… it just got too bad to deal with. That’s all.” Mikan looks over to Kokichi before he relents and nods. “Someone else should know.”

“It seems to be an autoimmune disorder caused by the program. Not one that we’ve seen before, but one that’s kind of unique because of how it happened. The device ‘taught’ his immune system to attack danger that wasn’t physically there, so it started attacking what was there instead. It seems to include some of the signals sent between muscle groups to get them to move, leading to muscle weakness that varies in severity. This would be a moderate exacerbation, I think, so it really could be much worse!”

Mikan is still working on her bedside manner. Kokichi huffs a little, amused, while Kaito is still processing.

“Is. Is it ever going to stop?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Mikan sighs, a little shake of her head. The same thing Kaito had been told about his lungs. “It’s impossible for us to know, but don’t count on it.”

“So… So what can we do? There has to be some kind of training we can do to make it a little less severe, right?” The impossible is always possible, is it not?

“Well. Physical therapy might help as part of the treatment, but it’s most important he’s taking his meds regularly and getting enough sleep,” she says. “But it’s pretty near impossible to enforce.”

Kaito looks over at Kokichi for a moment, then back to Mikan. 

“Maybe, on his own. What if he had a roommate? Then we’d share responsibility.”

“You’re kidding me,” Ouma says, doing his best to sit up a little. It’s more effort than it’s worth, but that does not stop him from trying.

“It’s that, or have you check in even more regularly than you already do. Even if I have to fish you out of the dorms,” Mikan shakes her head, tsk-tsk-tsk. “It’s not a bad idea. I’ll take it up with Administration. Unless you’d rather have an aide following you around…?”

“NO. ‘m good. It’s good. Could be way worse…”

“And I’ll see if I can get you an air conditioner in your room? It is very literally medically necessary.”

“Yessss,” Ouma seems happy enough, and settles down. It’s distinctly possible he’s too tired to put up much more protest, and takes the opportunity to start to nod off.

Kaito smiles fondly, and shakes his head.

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

Several hours later, Kokichi wakes up to the creaking of his door. He tenses, finding that he can, even if it’d be too much to disengage himself from ensnaring wires and monitors. He doesn’t bother. A moment later, it’s clear enough who it is.

“... Hello, Ouma.”

“Harukawa.”

Kokichi stares upward, idly counting holes in the ceiling tile.

The silence is deafening.

“I’m sorry,” Maki starts, a meandering sentence unto itself that unravels slowly from her tongue. 

Too slowly, for Kokichi. “Yeah, alright. For what?”

“Take your pick.” The courage she’s built up is thrown to the wind as she strives to just say it,  or at least say something.

“Sure. Forgiven. Whatever. Now, what’s it you want?”

“... That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Ooh, she catches on! Maki Harukawa, how do you do it,” he laughs. It’s a strangled sound. 

“Cut it out, Kokichi, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what happened today. I’m sorry about pushing you too far–”

“You didn’t push me too far.” he says, but it sounds… hollow. Sincere, insincere, it doesn’t seem to matter; there’s no substance to it, but it’s also packed with double-triple meanings and spite.

“I’m sorry anyway,” Maki says. 

This appears to appease him, if just for a minute.

“I’m sorry about pushing you around, and for blaming you for my own inability to properly focus.” she sighs. “… In my defense, you don’t make it easy, but. That’s not the point. The point is, I should not have done that. I got angry, and when I get angry sometimes I act rashly. So I’m sorry.”

There’s something bigger to that statement, of course. Something he cannot help but respond to with a brutal truth:

“I don’t know if I can forgive you. I want to stop being scared of you, but it’s not. Suddenly okay again.” He turns his head, half-muttering. “I’m not sure I’ll ever really be ‘okay’ again….”

The silence returns.

“... That’s. That’s okay. I mean, if you don’t. You don’t, have to. Respect is earned, and so… so is forgiveness, I think. I hope I can earn that in your eyes.”

“... Alright,” says Kokichi. “Fair enough.”

“See you around,” Maki shrugs, halfway to closing the door.

“And Maki?”

“Yeah?” she pauses.

“Thanks.”

[ihavemanyhusbands]

A young, smartmouthed, stubborn reader and Duncan get trapped in a motel during a roadtrip and there was only one bed!! Lmaoo they hate each other with vigor but end up having to share some body heat 🫡🤠

OH MY GOOOD can i make this assassin!reader?? (I hope so bc im about to do it haaaa)

———

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

The elderly motel clerk raised two bushy eyebrows, his coke bottle glasses comically enlarging his eyes as he looked at you disapprovingly.

“I’m afraid not, miss,” he said. “It’s the last room available. Take it or leave it.”

You grumbled in frustration and next to you, Duncan rolled his eyes, broad arms crossed over his chest.

“How much is it again?”

“Sixty even.”

You scoffed. “Oh sorry, I didn’t know we were staying at the Ritz fucking Carlton.”

Duncan slammed the cash onto the counter, glaring at you in warning to watch your mouth.

“We’ll take it,” he said and the clerk handed him the keys.

He shook his head and glared as the two of you walked out of the small reception building. You carried your bags into an even smaller, dingier room, right at the end of the property.

Your nose crinkled in distaste, but you supposed you’d been in worst places… but you’d also been without your current companion.

You flopped on the bed, the springs loudly creaking under your weight. You tossed him a pillow, which he caught easily.

“At least the floor’s carpeted… actually, I’m not sure that’s any better,” you said, then shrugged it off. “Oh well, hope you get comfortable.”

“Wait, you were assuming I’d sleep on the floor? I paid for the room!”

“Well, I’m a lady,” you countered, putting a hand to your chest in mock offense. “You’d really make me sleep on it?”

Now it was his turn to scoff. “You’re hardly a lady, with that foul mouth of yours.”

“You know I have a gun on me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you wave it around every chance you get,” he waved you off dismissively. “Which again, not ladylike.”

“Fuck off,” you said, getting up to check the heater, only to find it broken. “Oh great, five star hotel can’t even get its heating fixed. In the middle of winter, too.”

You walked across the room and checked the closet, which at least had an extra blanket, thin as it was. You tossed it to Duncan as well, and his glare would’ve surely pierced through anyone else, but you were barely fazed by it.

You took turns using the shower, and you almost gave him an earful about leaving the door open whenever he went out to smoke.

You ignored each other for some time, each finding ways to occupy yourselves. At some point the exhaustion of the day caught up to you and you decided to try and go to sleep early.

“Don’t even think of trying anything funny, you hear me?” You warned as you turned off the lights.

He only snorted, like the idea was so preposterous it was laughable.

The night grew colder as the hours passed. It was hard to sleep because of this, with you shivering under the measly covers. Your teeth chattered too, and while Duncan had been silent to make you think he was asleep, he heard all this with a grimace.

And he had to admit, being almost unable to feel his own extremities from the cold wasn’t very pleasant, either.

“This is torture,” he said suddenly, startling you as he sat up. “I’m getting on the bed.”

“What!? Like hell you are!” You protested as he stood.

“It’s fucking freezing in here, we’re not gonna sleep until we warm up,” he argued. “And with no heater, we’re gonna have to do it the old fashioned way.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up. “Fine, but don’t touch me. I’ll bite your fingers off if I find them anywhere near me.”

“As if I wanted to touch you!” He grumbled, sliding into the bed next to you.

It was a small bed, so his large body brushed close to yours. You could feel a little warmth emanating from him and it was a very welcome reprieve, even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud. You slept with your backs turned to each other.

Come morning, though, your limbs were tangled up and your face was buried in his chest. All was peaceful, so long as the two of you remained asleep.

———