#maybe believing it would bring her back the memory of when SHE chose him despite his flaws

[zoennes]

[Zoë, can we talk? I want to explain what happened!]

[Okay, tomorrow?]

[Great! 11:30 at the Ferris wheel?]

[Works for me.]

[dragonmasterhiccup]

His smile didn't go unnoticed by Freya, causing her to suppress her own grin at the small action, finding it cute. She was quick to shake those thoughts away, though, not wanting to get herself distracted again. Her eyes soon glanced at the two dragons on both sides of them, never thinking the day would come when Hiccup would be walking her home with a Night Fury with him, including Blaze. It almost made her laugh.

Hearing him mention his mother, she remembered to tread carefully, not to poke too much at the topic for worry of making him..uncomfortable. Lightly shrugging, she responded in a softer tone: "Well, she couldn't have been that bad.." Taking a small breath in, she continued with her gaze set forward, "Either way, I think Stoick is a better cook than me. I never really made that stew because my dad doesn't like it.

Briefly chuckling at the 'prediction' of what Gobber might do, she gave him a fake exasperated look, "It's not our fault he chose to drink. Who knows how many cups he had already.." She thought of how many she drank on the night Hiccup had to come bring her home, feeling herself getting more embarrassed as she recalled not even being able to walk properly. Her memory for specific things were foggy, and she didn't completely know if he carried her or not. "I'd rather not remember everything I did that night, actually..."

Freya glanced at him while he..apologized for what his father was saying, finding a bit more relief from it. He also acknowledged that Stoick might've said a little too much for their first dinner together. However, even despite the current circumstances that led him to apologizing, she found the slight stutter that he did, once again, cute. She felt herself beginning to smile but she tried very hard to hold it back, still failing as traces of it could be seen, "Yeah...Hiccup, it'll be kind of hard for me to forget...all of that, but I can try." Shrugging nonchalantly, she returned her focus on the path they were taking with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Plus, looking back on it, I think it was pretty funny that you kind of choked on your food because of what he said."

For the short moment of practically hanging onto Hiccup, she couldn't ignore the sudden closeness Blaze forced them into, desperately attempting to fight off the overwhelming shyness that was starting to fill her. Freya? Shy? Those two words didn't go together in her book, and yet, the more she came to terms with the fact that he briefly held his hand around her waist, she knew she couldn't escape the growing warmth on her face, "Then maybe you should fix that, Dragon Master.." She muttered, ignoring her flustered state as she continued walking.

Blaze seemed to be enjoying it, though. He was grinning up a storm besides Toothless as he grumbled in amusement.

Once Hiccup mentioned he still needed to put salve on and that he would be in the forge soon, her stern gaze rested upon him as she spoke firmly: "Don't forget to put that stuff on tonight, then. And if you're going to the forge, you better not hurt yourself again because that'll just annoy me, and I might make you find a different place to work in." She wouldn't admit that she was worried, perhaps scared, that he would injure himself again in a more severe manner, although the cut on his hand wasn't considered a minor wound already.

As soon as Hiccup questioned her about it, Freya nearly stumbled again but managed to walk as though nothing happened. 'I knew he would ask about this..' She cleared her throat, still holding her hands behind her back as she kept her gaze on everywhere but him, "I, uh, I...I'm glad it was that.. believable." Realizing that wasn't what she wanted to say, and that it came out slightly rude in her opinion, she quickly continued: "I-I guess, I did..mean it..? I just, uh...all those words sort of just...came out..? Yeah, so, uhm.."

She fidgeted with her hands that were now in front of her, silently fighting off the increasing heat on her face while she pushed away the urge to fidget with the straps on his arm instead, "If I said too much, I'll make sure not to next time, i-if there'll be a next time...did I mess up back there? Oh, geez, I'm sorry--" She unknowingly rambled, avoiding making eye contact as she took a deep breath in when she caught herself doing so, "...Sorry." She was behaving so flustered, like a teenager, and she did not like that. 'Get yourself together, Freya!' She told herself, all the while remaining with her hands lightly fidgeting with each other.

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

Thankfully, they managed to get over..that hurdle and continue to talk as they became closer to her hut, discussing about possibly finding another sand wraith for Ayla if she really wanted one. Now, as she arrived at her home, Freya wasn't completely ready to be by herself again..with the exception of her younger sister. She hesitated to even go up the steps, not understanding why she wouldn't go inside right away. Halfway up the small amount stairs, she paused, internally wrestling with herself. 'What am I doing..?'

Abruptly turning around, she faced Hiccup with a determined expression, only for it to quickly wither away as she stared at him. Even in the faint lighting the torches provided, she still could still see the emerald hues that his eyes carried as though it were daytime. 'Darn it..' Forcing her mind out of the daze he was putting her in, she became a little more..timid. Without putting much thought into it, she reached out her hand and lightly tugged on the straps on his arm, standing slightly closer as she looked at the ground for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet his, "So, uhm... Wil I see you again, tomorrow...?"

Her voice was hidden underneath a faint amount of earnest, as though urgently hoping he would say yes. Freya was not used to her heartbeat that was now noticably faster than before, the timidness as she waited for his answer like her emotions depended on it. All of it was foreign to her, and yet, she couldn't find it in herself to completely fight against what was occuring to her on the inside.

Blaze, who was starting to figure out what might be wrong with his rider, sat down with a huff, rolling his eyes at her like he understood that she didn't know what she was doing.

Hiccup chuckled. "No, I think she was, Gobber told me as much. I guess the three of them dined together often enough, he and my dad, they conspired of ways to keep her from cooking."

It was a little funny to think about, actually.

Turning to face her, he raised his brows. "Yeah? Well, why don't we make it together sometime, next time your dad is away? My dad finally wrote down his recipe...we could make it for your family, if you would like..."

Nodding, he said, "That's a good point. If anyone is at fault, it would be Gobber first, then my father for not cutting him off from the mead..."

"No?" Thinking back, he could see why she thought that. She certainly wasn't herself, since she had drunk so much mead... Hoping to reassure her, he just stated, "It really wasn't that bad, you know. But, I won't bring it up again if you prefer."

His face was still very red, he could feel it, but he was also a bit relieved that she didn't hold his father's words against him. "Thank you... listen, next time you're over, I'll--I'll have a chat with my dad beforehand, let him know what topics he absolutely cannot bring up..."

Namely marriage and children...

"Wait, you--you found that funny?"

Just as flustered as she was, he agreed. "Y-yeah, I'm gonna have to..."

Toothless had no regrets, and he had no plans to allow his behavior to be corrected in any capacity. He was just helping Hiccup, that's all!

At her words, he held his hand up, looking at the bandages. "No, I won't forget. I've been good about remembering that...I don't want to get whacked on the head by Gothi's staff, if I don't follow her instructions." But it looked like he'd have Freya's wrath to deal with as well, if he somehow got hurt again.

Their conversation from the other night by the fire was still fresh in his mind. "I've been working in the forge for years, Fey. I slipped up, yes, but it won't happen again. Once I'm chief, I don't know if I'll even have the time to work there anymore...and I like it, so I don't plan on giving it up anytime soon..."

A lopsided grin forming, he teasingly added, "Your concern is actually appreciated, though..."

His eyes were on her as he waited, noticing how she avoided meeting his eyes.

Once she said 'believable', he cast his gaze down at the ground ahead of him, trying not to feel disappointed.

It was a fake relationship...he had to keep reminding himself of that.

"Believable, right, of course...well, you uh, you definitely succeeded..." Even he had fallen for it.

But, then she continued, and his eyes widened in disbelief, his eyes on her again.

Wait...it...she meant all of that?

A smile was forming, and he tried to suppress it, only succeeding a little bit.

"N-no, no, you...don't be sorry! You didn't mess anything up... actually...if I'm being honest..." He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away shyly. "A...a similar thing happened...when, when I had dinner with you and your family, so...I suppose that makes us even, in a way, of sorts?"

Maybe there was more to this than just a fake relationship...

----------

It was a relief when the topic changed, Hiccup describing possible islands where they could find another sand wraith, and he was more than a little disappointed to see Freya's hut up ahead.

Soon, he'd have no more excuses to hang around her, and he'd have to return home.

He was about to wish her a good night, when she paused, turning to face him again.

Hiccup's eyes were on hers, his brows up, lips parted slightly as he waited to see what she'd say.

He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as she tugged at the straps on his arm, glancing down at them before looking back up at her.

At her question, he thought about it for a moment.

He knew he wanted to see her again tomorrow...and...it kind of sounded like she did, too.

Smiling up at her, as he was still standing at the bottom of the steps, he nodded. "Yeah, if you have nothing planned... maybe we could go back into the forest with Ayla? Give Gobber some space just in case, and..." Get to know each other better, perhaps? He let his words trail off, giving a little shrug, still grinning.

"How does that sound?"

[intothewickedwood]

1, 3, 7, 11, 19, 20, 21, 23 for Kathryn!

Yay, Kathryn! Thank you, Maria! <3

My first impression of them

I can't 100 percent remember. I think I was a little confused about who she was and thought she was David's demanding sister, or something. I thought they kinda looked alike. I don't think I warmed up to her until I saw her as Kathryn. But when she showed up in the hospital scene, I was so touched by how much she cared about David and how kind and sweet she seemed. I think I was questioning whether Henry's book was real but was also kinda wary in case she was a Regina minion. But I didn't wanna believe it because she seemed so nice.

Her bringing a basket of muffins was the cutest gosh darn thing I've ever seen in my entire life and I was fully sold by then. But I also loved that she stood up for herself and knew she deserved to seek and find her heart's desires- all while being incredibly generous and forgiving in Storybrooke and the EF.

3. A song that reminds me of them

I know she doesn't have hazel eyes, haha, but I came across this fan vid. and I just love it so much. It's on my favourite fan vid playlist (which I listen to, like, every other weekend). It's 'Behind These Hazel Eyes'.

7. A quote of them that you remember

"No, you're not. A friend wouldn't do this. A friend wouldn't lie. Everyone is lying to me!" - It just tears my heart out. Poor woman got caught in the middle of a mess that had little to do with her, and it almost ruined what she thought was her whole life. She must have felt so alone and like she could trust no one. My heart really went out to her. She deserved so much better. But the way she chose to look at things from a different perspective for her own sake, and tried to pursue real happiness, was so admirable. It's a shame she got drugged and locked in a basement afterwards! That'd must have been really horrible and terrifying. Poor Kathryn couldn't catch a break!

11. What’s the first thing you think about when thinking about the character?

I get the warm fuzzies. Season 1 nostalgia to the max! My favourite season is not my favourite season without Kathryn. It just wouldn't be the same. She has a very special place in my heart and I just want her to have all the happiness and I cry and I am baking her cranberry muffins as we speak, even though I really freaking hate cranberries. That's how awesome I think she is! I am willing to touch dried fruit with my human hands just for her!

19. The most random ship you've seen people have with them

I tried to look for a blog I thought I saw a rare Kathryn pair on a while back that I couldn't remember, but found Kathryn x Ingrid on another blog instead. I feel like I kinda get it, as to me they have similar vibes a.k.a they're both pretty regal. I gotta read it! It's here if anyone's interested!

20. A weird headcanon

One thing I've always thought deep down is that, despite essentially psychologically torturing her, Gold tried to be nice about it, if that makes sense. I think he maybe got her nice food, maybe sat with her, and tried to calm her – not that she knew what was going on. Don't get me wrong, Gold can be very cruel, but that cruelty is usually directed at people who have wronged him or those who made a deal with him without reading their contract properly, like poor Anna. Kathryn was completely innocent and likely made no deals, so I don't think he would hit her with his cane or anything (at least, I hope not!). He could have killed her like Regina wanted him to, but he didn't. Whether that was to ensure things would work in his favor, an act of mercy, or something in between, I suppose is a bit of a mystery. Nevertheless, what he did was still terrible.

21. When do you think they were at their happiest?

I think with Frederick pre or post curse. She seemed to have very fond memories of her time with him before he turned to gold, so probably then. But I like to think she'd find even more happiness after the curse, whether she ended up with him or not. Now I think about it, I wonder if she tried to cross Lake Nostos to save Frederick. I can't remember if she said she did. Did the siren seduce her too?? Where's that scene at?!

23. Future headcanon

I don't mind a happy ending where Regina doesn't end up with a love interest, although goodness knows I would have loved to see her end up with Facilier. But since canon won't let us have him back (not without more time travel, at least!), I think it would be nice if Kathryn and Regina reestablished a relationship and it maybe developed into something more. Maybe things didn't work out with Freddie (sorry, Freddie!) and things end up coming full circle, where they both end up at some sort of celebration party together. Maybe they're both feeling a little lonely, and Kathryn sits next to Regina, and they just talk and reconnect. Oh snap, this was more of a wish than a headcanon before I wrote it out, but I'm totally adopting it as an official headcanon now!

I like to think she is good friends with the Charmings too!

[sonicasura]

Yeah Tiny has to earn Akari's trust. And the rest of the family too as neither Tabiki, Hina nor 10 are impressed much. Even if 10 finds that Kafka now being at 9.8 in the fortitude scale is a actual good thing. He is very eager to retrain him thats for sure.

Tiny has very mixed feelings about 10. And you can't really blame them for it either. Even with Kafka's memories, Tiny is keeping a close eye on the battle mad kaiju.

And kafkahibinomybeloved has a pretty solid case on that front if I'm honest. I mean when Kafka was fighting Isao, it was the presence of No 2 that seems to make Tiny react the way he does. Had that not happened something tells me that beserk mode would have not been needed, And we all know why he reacts the way he does to 9.

I would not be surprised that Kafka being Tiny's descendant not only played a part of why they chose Kafka to begin with but also stirr some protective instinct inside him as well in some twisted way. That he probably can't fully understand for that matter now that I think about it. And like you said yourself, Tiny is a Onryo. I may not know a lot about japanese myths, but anything born from vengeful spirits or emotions can't be a good thing whatsoever.

Anyways. So Akari survived even if it took months to fully heal. And I mean it. My girl had no choice in the matter and Tabiki was not afraid to threaten his wife with creative ways for her to stay in bed for however long it took her to heal up. She had to spend the first two months in the hospital, as most of her bones where a mess and she needed specialized brazers for her back as her spine was badly damaged enough that the doctor feared she'd never walk again. Imagine his surprise when she did after three whole years of physical therapy.

Luckly for the family they where able to explain Akari's various injuries due being unable to get to the shelters in time. And that was not hard to believe as there where many who did not that day and the sheer damage done around the city due to the two kaiju's fight was not light either for that matter.

10 would sneak Akari out though when it was needed, once he was sure he would not cause futher damage to her, so she could fix all the strange gravity zones she had made during the fight. The ones that took months to even a handful of years to naturally dispatch when she died in my original path.

Tiny absolutely had to earn the family's trust. Something that was a bit difficult at the start since he's practically dormant at the beginning. Converting an entire quarter human into an kaiju so fast will require a lot of energy.

I wholeheartedly believe Riot Mode wouldn't have happened if Isao didn't bring out No. 2's power. Considering what Tiny essentially lost because of a certain kaiju, he would be dangerously protective about Kafka. Luckily it's only aimed at kaiju and not humans. The idea of Kafka essentially going Season Yami Yugi thanks to Tiny sounds fucking scary.

Oof. Akari definitely needs that rest despite any protests on her part. Luckily she has a loving family to help her along the way. Maybe even sneak Akari out on a fun sightseeing than just fixing gravity in certain areas.

[throne-for-queens]

I know it’s not a realistic expectation so apologies for that in advance , but I truly wish you would vet ppl making false claims on here either maybe knowingly to get a reaction outta you or unknowingly in which case they need to be more careful.

I think the anon is referring to that ig live probably in 2021. It was basically Colson saying him and Megan were considering having a pet and more specifically a giant bunny. He then jokingly said he wanted a dragon but Megan won’t let him have it and asked her to explain why to which she responded it’s bc they are mythological creatures who have not been seen in many years lol.. sadly as always some ppl want to twist facts to somehow beat her down even when she’s mostly stayed away from everyone and everything for months now. Give her a break and maybe enjoy what he’s been doing..

As for the proof pls check 27 second mark of the video:

https://youtu.be/A9U7HEElvWk?si=tp8H5vOSI4lyYrX3

Also don’t know about some ppl, but Halloween is really not to be taken too seriously as a testament for someone’s moral compass. Colson is friends with Tommy & I am pretty sure Megan’s a big fan of Pam at this point and has been channelling Pams style over the years from her hats to her dress & hairstyle. I think except for a few overthinking individuals nobody took offence. Vogue even called them the best dressed couple of that night. Also not sure why that’s a topic of discussion suddenly. I guess it’s anything to bash her at this point.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and the evidence behind your perspective. I do recall the live event, but I may not have been fully engaged to remember all the details. I encourage everyone to reflect similarly, whether in support of Megan, another individual, or simply to shed light on a situation.

I don't believe Colson took her words as law when she mentioned dragons, perhaps words in passing since he got a dragon tattoo anyway. Colson has always been very expressive with his body ink and I don't think anyone, not even Megan, can change that. They're a couple at the end of the day so they have frivolous conversations like the rest of us.

With October here, it’s understandable that interest in Halloween costumes is rising. However, even though Megan acknowledged Pamela as a style icon, I feel a sense of protectiveness towards Pam after watching her documentary. I believe those who chose to dress as her did not mean any harm, but despite the celebration of the costume by Tommy and Vogue, I can sense that it causes Pam pain. That’s why I don’t find joy in seeing anyone, including Colson and Megan, portray her. I truly wish they could connect with Pam on a personal level; I think Megan would discover many relatable aspects of her story. While Pamela still has love for Tommy, it brings back painful memories and seems to overshadow the reality of their relationship, which was marked by abuse. I just can’t see that costume as something entertaining since I now know how she feels.

Sidebar: if anyone wants to learn more about Pamela I suggest you read her memoir or watch her Netflix documentary if you're able.

[iconoclast-infidels]

Dmitry declared his love. How sweet. The realist in her believed it with a side of skepticism to protect both of them just in case all while hoping for the best.

Nico probably also at some point told him Nova didn't trust the church either. It was a complicated relationship considering she was harboring a child of Hell.

"Help how?" She didn't understand how he could help her or what he really meant as he looked like he wanted to reach out for her hands. She didn't resist. She nodded a yes.

He left a moment later and came back with a rosary and a story to match it. She hadn't expected him to bring one so quickly. She looked over the exquisite detail as he explained why it was so sentimental. She ran her fingers gently over the precious metal and beading. It was the idea that he would have given it to Nico if he could actually touch it that touched her.

"I'll take extra care. I'll be sure to hold onto it in his stead."

Then out came a second one that seemed to be sturdier that she could be less delicate with.

"Thank you, really. This will do just fine."

Nico would text back that he'd put that on the list and that it was a good idea giving Dmitry credit for good looking out about the time Nova was saying, "I don't speak Russian either."

She started to smile as he explained the reason for having the dang Vulgate in Russian of all languages. "Clever. How clever you are." She was impressed.

As for why she wanted different versions specifically, "Hmm how do I put this? Anti-Catholics? Yes, Anti-Catholics believe Catholics hide scripture and refuse to translate into any formal language. It goes back to the whole forced conversion of the England. Anyway, the Douay-Rheim's say theirs is supreme because it's based off the Vulgate basically Catholic shit. However, the King James people believe theirs is the shit because it's based on the Textus Receptus and believe theirs was written under divine inspiration. In other words, the King James went straight from Greek to English, as opposed to Greek to Latin to English. This goes a long way in the telephone game of translating.

"The rest of the history of translations beyond that is meaningless to me. What I need is to be able to cross reference because no book can be trusted when there's so much misinformation because I trust no one. What I need is to miss nothing because a translator picked and chose his words to appeal to a certain audience. Religious texts are puzzle pieces full of clues that destroy or protect us if we read carefully enough. I need all the words. I could miss something too valuable.

"For example. Just off the top of my head something so simple and common. Ecclesiastes King James is harder to remember but it's something like 'Is there anything whereof it maybe said, see this is new?' But in the Douy it says 'Nothing under the sun is new.' It's where people get There's nothing new under the sun from. It's just easier to say. I want to not miss a meaning either because of stupid wording. But I need to be able to cross reference because the fucked-up wording is what an exorcist or a witch or summoner that might try to control my son learns to chant and I need to know what's being hurled at him, recognize it, so I know what to counter with. I can't do that if I don't fully understand it. So, I study, and I study a lot."

She was relentless. That's why she looked exhausted. She never let her mind rest even in the hospital. She was always planning for the day she could help again.

As for what else he could help her obtain.

"I was going to ask for the New Revised Standard too just in case. You can never have too many. But just a few things let me think."

While she calmed her mind to think it through, he asked about Nico's name. Oh, that one made her smile. It withered as soon as it grew. It was a sad sort of smile; one filled with disappointment despite a good memory. It was a touchy memory. This was where Dmitry would hear Nova start to open up willingly without being asked. Enough bond had been made. She'd talk here more than she probably had since she'd gotten there.

"It's in combination of his middle. Niccolo Jeremiah. The Victor of the People. That's Niccolo. My people. His people. I didn't want him to forget where he came from, his humanity. Jeremiah means God will uplift."

It looked like it almost hurt her to say those last three words. She took a big breath. "I don't even know if I ever told him what it meant. I can't remember anymore. Memories get so blurry in lock up. He was just a little boy. "

She put her hand on her head trying so hard to remember, "Oh wait, maybe I did? I think I remember him getting mad the story of the Weeping Prophet Jeremiah because he was always such a negative child. His life was so full of hardship he didn't see the point. Pretty sure he's murdered in the end, I forget. Which is contradictory to the name's meaning." She laughed soft recalling her little boy pouting about it once she remembered.

"One of my favorites is from Jeremiah though. It says, well to be specific as we just mentioned, in the Douay-Rheims 'The heart is perverse above all things, and unsearchable, who can know it?' Another version says, 'The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; Who can know it?' But I remember very specifically the first time I came across it I read, and I don't recall the version, 'The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?' That hit me to the core. Beyond cure is a lot to say for a prophet. What about the word unsearchable in the other? Isn't that what is in every person's word of advice when making a choice? Just search your heart. Follow your heart, right? Even the delivery of 'who can understand it' felt sassy like fuck it instead of the more archaic language tones where the question who can know it seems meant for a preacher to deliver a point there. Stop and speak. God can. Look to God. Always look to God. But I say to you, just be careful when listening to your heart. I think it means in matters of the heart it can't always be trusted. Love isn't what people think it is so we must be careful when listening to our hearts. That's what I think. Look where it got me."

She paused there. Maybe that was a little too revealing of her heart.

She shook her head. "I think I became obsessed with the different versions too in trying to teach Nico. Trying to figure out how to reword them and tell him the stories to some extent without making his ears bleed or sick to his stomach and without sending the wrong message. But know even though it doesn't matter what language it's spoken in the demons are especially sensitive to it being spoken in Latin for some reason."

Her mind had gone back to the different translations, but she wasn't finished speaking on why she chose the name. Here's where the opening up truly began. She glanced up at him in that double checking their safe space first sort of way.

"It wasn't just the meaning of Niccolo. That's why I chose it. As in me. But it wasn't just me involved. It was my favorite of which his father allowed me to choose from back in college. He was my philosophy professor. I didn't know what he was at first. I did by the time he was born, but we'd have so many theological conversations outside of class. Aside from the demonic naming he needed a name for while he was on earth and he wanted it to be named after a nod to some our best talks, places we hit an impasse in ways of thinking. Niccolò Machiavelli was one we went back to many times. So, he finds great pride in making me name my son after a man whose reputation is that of an atheist tyrannical cynic. That's why I find great pleasure in knowing the ironic meaning of the name.

"I find a lot of irony in the name actually. People don't fear Machiavellian concepts like they once did. People now use The Prince he wrote as a guide to understanding evil, so the poor have a handbook. They understand what the rich in power are doing to them if they educate themselves. Sadly, it's very stated it's only those who seek shelter in the blindness of their churches who the evil can overpower. It's all written there step by step how to be corrupt and stay in power by using religion in politics when it's meant to be separated all the way back in the 1600's and still people stay blind in their pews voting republican as the book plainly reveals. Every time I see anything good happen in the world of politics morally I think that's a vote passed for Nico. Someone paid attention."

So who was Nova? Right then she let Dmitry know. She was the person who named her son after everything immoral while hoping he was going to see not everything was what it seemed. A handbook for evil could be the guidebook for the uprising too. It was a lot to put on one little boy. Maybe too much. The heavy hopes of parents that might burden children with them. But, what could Nova do either? She was only human.

Forgive me.

If there was one thing angel ears heard, it was prayers. He said nothing, but the words and the emotion behind them reached deep in his soul, right where it mattered the most. It wasn't his place to forgive her; that wasn't what she needed from him. He could, however, keep his promise — the same vow he'd made before Samael: to save Nico. Dmitry was not consciously aware of this calling he'd accepted, but he nonetheless acted on it in everything he did.

Even in suffering. Even in his patience while Nico figured things out. He was patient with Nico and he was gentle, even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt.

Nova saw it: he loved Nico.

The way she warned him about Nico was received as approval. Oh, he knew she meant it, he knew it was serious. But it also sounded, to him, like approval. He gave her a soft grin and crossed his heart with his pinky finger in the most serious of promises. "I'll love him forever, no matter what. Forever."

Nova was right; there was conflict. But Dmitry did mean his words seriously, too. It was no idle promise, no joke. He had framed it with the lighthearted demeanor he often kept, but he meant it as seriously as he loved the stars. Whether Nico would be able to understand it in the future, even through his self-exile in Russia, he loved. The anger would come from love, from the refusal to let go; not out of rejection nor hate.

Dmitry tilted his head, listening to her request for the rosary and the Bibles. That made sense, too, though he almost hadn't been expecting it either. He remembered distantly that Nico had once mentioned how she'd tried to teach him. He reached for her hands again, to comfort her, and to get her attention. He felt the turmoil, and he still wasn't sure what sort of withdrawals to expect her to go through, either.

"Let me help you. Please?" His voice was still quiet, still soft. This was for her, but it was also for himself. He couldn't just stand and watch someone suffer if there was anything he could do to help. He was calm enough that hopefully it would help her too. He didn't himself realize, but part of the urge to reach for her hands was that, in the same way he often accidentally bled his own feelings into others through physical touch when overwhelmed, he could do with the calm.

Now, her actual request. He nodded. "I have something for you, gimme a sec."

Just like that, he wandered off to look through his things and pulled out a drawstring pouch. He pulled the top open and took her hand gently, emptying the contents into it. "This is sentimental, don't go using it for rituals or nothing. It's for you; I'd have given it to him but... So I'm giving it to you, so you know I meant what I said earlier. This one's the one I was holding one night after... doing something I needed to do. I was feeling all sorts of ways, and he just... He understood. That night, he kissed me. I'll never forget the way he kissed me. That's why this one matters."

The night on the hill. Even now he still kept the rosary he'd had in his hands then, beads colored with dried blood he'd never dared clean off. It was special. It deserved to be kept.

Then he dug through his pockets and found another rosary, this one less elaborate, more basic. Still blessed, the both of them; he always took care to have them blessed. He gave her the second rosary with a nod. "This one's fair game."

As for the Bibles, he sat on the countertop like she had done earlier and took another drink from the bottle. "Interesting choice in translations. Vulgate, yeah, classic. Gonna take me a while to find but I can get one in print for you." He quickly texted Nico to ask if he was getting Nova a phone, and 'actually just add that to the list if you didn't already'. "Now, mine's in Russian, it's... I figured it would keep Nico from actually reading it by mistake. Told him what it is, of course, but I figured if he can't read it to begin with then it might not be as bad as if it were in English? So I gotta actually get ya the other two. I have to ask, why King James and Douay-Rheims? They're similar. I guess the deuterocanon isn't in the King James, but you can technically get one with it included. I'll get you both though, I'm just curious. Those I can get today. What else do you need?"

And then an afterthought. "Why Niccolo? I mean, his name. Why Niccolo?"

[vendetta-if]

okay I just read the ask about yvette and oh my she's not even an asshole then! She was going to abort and choose her career and victor but he wanted the kid. Do we explore the perspective that what she chose is completely reasonable? Because omg that kind of makes it messed up for Victor to tell baby mc who her mom is and not just say she has no mom because he wanted a kid and knew the mom would never be in the picture. You might feel differently about Victor but thats honestly a pretty bad choice to tell baby mc they have a mom at all :( (like an understandable parenting mistake but definitely a mistake and I still love Victor even the best dads make mistakes)

Viktor did tell MC that their mom died a long time ago, but then, MC accidentally found an old picture of Viktor and Yvette together while still wearing their costumes when they helped Viktor sorting his old photo albums (Viktor loved to take pictures and immortalize memories that way ever since he was a little boy).

So, Viktor just decided to come clean because there’s no way little MC would believe that one of the most famous superheroes in the city who often appears on TV and social media (and who’s supposedly their mom as well) is dead. Maybe deep down inside, Viktor is also a bit relieved to finally be able to stop lying to MC about something so crucial.

But then, to protect little MC from the harsh truth that their mom doesn’t want to be in their life, he ended up lying again saying that she hasn’t visited them because she really cared for them and that she was worried about bringing unwanted attention and dangers to MC and him.

And MC believed that until the unfortunate meeting in the comic store where MC found out in the worst way possible that their mom doesn’t really want them.

And yes, Viktor is a good dad, but he’s definitely not perfect and makes mistakes. Maybe if only he had come clean to MC from the beginning about Yvette… would it makes things better? Would things be different about how MC feels about her? But he also couldn’t bear thinking about how it would make his little precious baby feels.

So, he took what was supposed to be an easy way out and lied about it. After all, Yvette is not interested at all in being in MC’s life right? And as long as MC and Yvette never meet each other, his white lie would be okay.

I know a lot of people dislike or even hate Yvette, and I do understand, if not for choosing her career over MC, then it’ll be for what she did to MC in the store. She kinda made MC and Viktor as the butt of the joke in trying to deny MC claiming to be her child and also tried to use her empathy ability (well, soft words for literal emotional manipulation) on little MC to make them still like her despite being laughed at by a lot of people because of her.

She is not really a good person. She’s somewhat self-centered and her powers just enable her narcissistic tendencies even more. She’s also superficial and doesn’t really actually care much about saving people, only for the fame and wealth and attention from becoming a famous superhero (I think this is made even clearer in her backstory on how she first met Viktor that I wrote for Patreon because it’s written from her perspective).

But personally, for me, I’ve always felt… neutral, apathetic, or even pity towards her, especially now in her older years. She really couldn’t find anyone else she felt as strongly for as she did for Viktor. And she could never go back to Viktor again and try to make amends because he’s already dead.

Her biological child most likely hates her for what she did and she could understand why. Her life has turned hollow and shallow inside despite her being more famous and rich than she was a decade ago. This is supposed to be her goal, what she sacrificed her love for, but she still feels empty inside. And most importantly, she’s alone and she’s lonely. Almost all of the people surrounding her are as fake and superficial as she was and still kinda is.

She doesn’t even have anyone to pass her legacy and success and reputation that she worked so hard to build to once she retires from the superhero scene, which is one of the reasons she took in Skylar as her protégé in the first place.

Maybe I also feel some pity for her because I subconsciously know things about her that she might not even want to admit to herself or that she buries deep down. Such as her regret for not taking Viktor’s offer.

She sometimes finds herself daydreaming about what her life would be if she had accepted Viktor’s offer and settled down peacefully and happily with the man who really loved her and who she truly loved in return and becoming a mother instead of choosing to pursue her fame and wealth and career. Lately, as she grows older, these daydreams comes to her even more often. Maybe that added with her desperation about being the next target is what finally pushed her to gather her courage to meet MC again…

Oh, also, just to make things clearer, she did want to abort and still be with Viktor (although I don’t think Viktor would still be able to be in a relationship with her after that), but she also intended to keep their relationship a secret and not get married and act single in public for as long as possible, maybe until she retires if that’s even possible 😂, which Viktor (or anyone else tbh) would also not like.

Because she knows her fanbase and she knows the image that the Constellation Agency and she has curated and built for ‘Mirage’. She knows she would lose a portion of her fanbase if it’s revealed that she has a partner all this time, or much worse, has a kid. And it might be a pretty big hit to her career and the Agency wouldn’t like that.

But she did choose to give birth to MC in the end out of her love for Viktor. They actually separated pretty amicably and Viktor never bad-mouthed her to MC or his family. In fact, it was his request to Luka and Grandpa and Grandma to just let Yvette continues on with her life and career without them trying to retaliate in any way. A request that they still honor even after his death.

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

honestly, i'm at the point where I'm wondering if Giovinetta (from lady devil) simply won't be satisfied unless everyone around her is miserable, and *even then* it's still not enough (why else would she bring back to life her abusive brother and betray/murder Idris?). Even in a new life where she doesn't seem to remember anything, she can't stomach the idea of Johannes having (seemingly) more freedom than her and being (seemingly) more beloved by people.

just. Holy Shit.

I don't think she'll ever reach the freedom she seeks if, even without any memory from her past life, she *has* to mess up Idris no matter what. I know that he abused her, SAed her and all (which he never should have done, no matter what), but it's still wild that in his new, nearly immortal body (unlike his past life), she *still* has the upper hand psychologically and puts all the blame on him. Idk girl, if you were locked up from 6 yo to your 1st marriage, maybe blame your abusive, dangerous parents instead of your twin??

It really feels like these two never had a real, honest conversation that could have avoided a lot of trauma and toxic, abusive behaviour on both sides (like how Johannes was hated by their mother, seems like a pretty important conversation to have??). Ik that it's the point of lady devil to watch them being a trainwreck, but I still feel bad for Johannes/Idris... Changing his face to the one of the man he hated the most *and* not realizing that Giovinetta won't ever love him, even if he gets entangled in the OG twins' incestuous nonsense? it's tragic.

I see it a little differently Giovinetta revived Xavier because she found it unbearable to part from the abuse that had become customary. Displays of affection have become indistinguishable from abuse. Giovinetta must have made a mistake somewhere or the research papers of Kretschman were incomplete because we know Xavier came back wrong, he was more like a living corpse than anything else and this is why she wanted Idris to fill out the empty space that Xavier had left behind. The problem is that the Idris that existed in the past could never satisfy her masochistic urges completely. Despite the intense psychological trauma he was subjected to since young age he was still...too kind. That's why I think she didn't hurt him for the sake of hurting him but she hurt him because she wanted him to hurt her. (That and to prevent perceived abandonment like when she burned him with a hot iron after he laughed with another girl.)

"I know what you want from me."

I feel like there must be more behind it as to why Giovinette chose to betray Idris. Killing him was too extreme. Even for her. Perhaps someone else framed him for something or something else led to her believing that he betrayed her first. It is possible that Giovinetta might not even see it as a betrayal because he said he wouldn't mind to be killed by her.

I'm recalling the confession in chapter 90.

"But what if you die like Xavier?

"I'll forgive you if you let me have a taste later."

Idris was just playing around, but I think Giovinetta might've taken him by his word literally.

We might never know if Innette could have turned out normal or not. At a certain point the image of Giovinetta and Innette have started to blurr and Idris/Johan began to view Innette and everything she does in the most negative light possible. It doesn't matter what Innette does, Johan has decided she is either going to abandon him or going to betray him because that's what her past self has done to him, so whatever she does, it's negative and confirms it. That makes it hard to differientiate between what is Innette's nature and what was nurtured. Was Innette always destined to become Giovinetta 2.0? Or is Johan's insistence to treat her like Giovinetta the reason why she became like her?

Take for example her incestuous feelings for her twin. She played a kissing game with Johan because she saw her parents doing it. She was curious and wanted to try it out. That was all. Nothing more nothing less. Not to Johann though. She awakened his feelings for her and that's why he was confused when she told him to forget about it once they got older. In his mind Innette was Giovinetta. Then if that was the case why was Innette not lusting after her brother just like Giovinetta? Now the sensible explanation would be "Innette is not Giovinetta even though she looks like her. History doesn't have to repeat itself. She was just experimenting like kids do and couldn't tell right from wrong" but Johann jumped to "she is just like Giovinetta omg she is going to betray me and then abandon me to be with another man!!!" and his kill bill sirens went on.

Johann destroyed her only way out of this dysfunctional family when he killed her husband out of jealousy and the rumor spread that she was cursed and had to be locked up again. Because she was trapped in a situation where she was extremely isolated from everyone except for her family she ended up becoming overly dependent on him. And Johann was taking advantage of that including her amnesia. So it's no wonder that Innette was trauma bonding with Johann just like Giovinetta, not because it was something inevitable but because he created a condition in which she had no choice but to develop these feelings for him. In a way she was suffering from stockholme syndrome in her "captivity". I can understand Innette's resentment of Johann a bit. Especially in the early chapters Johann had moments where he got jealous and paranoid seemingly out of nowhere and was accusing her of things. If you are already treated like a sinner despite trying to do good and then getting punished by the person you are trying to protect you are going to reach your breaking point one day.

I suspect Johan is partly to blame for why Innette ended up taking after Giovinetta more and more. Innette and Johan's relationship faintly echoes Giovinetta and Xavier's, this time with Idris in Xaviers role. Johann fucked up twice. The first time when he killed her first husband and the second time when he got overly paranoid when she was suffering from amnesia and acted up. (like he couldn've had it all had he not been so insistent that she was inheritently rotten like Giovinetta). And while he was not to blame for his parents abuse he was actively profiting from it. Hating your abusive parent instead of your sibling is logical, but Innette was a child when she was locked up in the tower and beaten up for telling the truth about the crime Johann had committed. Her father war unreachable for her. She couldn't punish him. But Johann wanted her love and felt guilty so it was easier to transfer her feelings of hatred over to him, to let her anger out on him since that way she wouldn't have to fear any consequences. Giovietta was unaware of her mother's abuse of him but aware of her father's favourtism towards him just because he happened to be born male. And to be fair she tried to shallow her feelings of jealousy because she was waiting for the day her marriage would free her but Johann was the one who destroyed this hope and the reason why she was locked up a second time and no one wanted to marry her. Johann killed someone first, he raped her first. Kretschmann said Johann and Idris are not the same person, so Giovinetta and Innette might not be the same person either. We can't say she had it coming.

What I'm trying to say is that I don't think Johann has morally the higher ground over Innette. You say Innette can't stomach the idea of Johann having more freedom or being more beloved by people but Johann can't stomach the idea either I think. It was never a problem for him because as a women she was already oppressed and never had anything to be jealous of to begin with, but as soon as Innette fought for the little freedom she could get (marriage) and tries to weaponize her feminity Johann starts to murder people or threaten to murder people (like when another man admired her and kissed her hand).

I'm in no way trying to excuse Giovinetta/Innette here. Her actions towards idris were absolutely vile and I love Idris/Johann alot more. I just think the twins receive an unequal amount of hatred because of a double standard and some things are viewed harsher than others. Like how infidelity gets condemned more in fiction than murder. For example I heard readers where particulary angry at Innette for having sex with Indrikson and demanded the scene to be changed. Johan might have imprisoned, drugged and sexually assaulted Innette but he was always utterly loyal to her and that's why he is loved more.

[estrel]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.

As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.

Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.

You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.

But he knew the truth...

You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.

...Because you loved him.

The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.

So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.

He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.

Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.

Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.

He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.

But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.

But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.

He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.

But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.

He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.

He felt cold.

As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.

He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.

Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.

Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.

Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.

Learning everything he could about You.

Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.

He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.

Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.

But he couldn't find you.

So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.

Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.

Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.

Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.

He eventually did find some of you.

The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.

The next was you on your first day at work.

It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.

You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.

The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.

Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.

Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.

You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.

Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.

With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.

Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.

A nice long, cold shower.

Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.

An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.

The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.

'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.

Stolas swelled with joy.

His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.

Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.

He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.

The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.

Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.

Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.

Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'

She fell back into her seat with a huff.

Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.

'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.

Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.

Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.

'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.

'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'

He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.

Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.

Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'

Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.

It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.

Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.

Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.

He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.

Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.

Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.

And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.

The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.

He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.

He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.

But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.

In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'

'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.

'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.

But, he choked... He just couldn't.

'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'

You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'

Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'

You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'

Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.

'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'

'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'

Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.

'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'

He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.

'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.

Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.

You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.

Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.

You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.

'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'

Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'

Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.

'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'

Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.

You were everything he wished Blitzø was.

And he loved it.

He didn't need Blitzø.

He had you now.

'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.

He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.

'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.

'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.

He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'

'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.

He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.

As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.

'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'

You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.

'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.

Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.

[bitchassbucky]

Ｂａｃｋ Ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ (Ｓａｍ Ｗｉｌｓｏｎ ｘ Ｆ!Ｒｅａｄｅｒ)

📎Word Count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: some heckin’ words. Bucky’s in this, he’s a bit annoying (affectionately) <3 MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: omg my first Sam fic! i wanna thank my boo @babyboibucky for enabling me hsakjdhak ily! this is for you, bee!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

📎 Follow the story: Back To You, Dimples, Inked

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky says, annoyed that Sam has been looking down on his phone, remotely giving attention to their conversation.

Sam grins, fingers dancing over the keyboard on the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Something about motel rooms—or beds.”

“I said that they gave us two beds in one room,” the former spots their door number, quickly walking to it. The tactical bag swinging over his cybernetic arm freely.

The night was warm, the air blew the ocean mist towards the town. The parking lot is empty save for a black sedan that’s already been through a lot. They chose to stay low instead of getting a room at a decent hotel close by–something about them not likening the crowd.

Once inside, both men cleared the room in 30 seconds flat. The window opens out, the door stays closed and locked. The TV has to be on but kept on low volume. The beds are made, it’s clean; beats the flat beds on the plane.

Sam throws his bag over to the bed closest to the window, calling dibs. “Hey, you got headphones?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky answers, settling his things below the foot of the bed, “why?” He catches Sam again smiling giddily over something, “what you got a girl there or something?” 

“It’s none of your business,” Sam retorts, quirking his eyebrow upwards, “well? Do you have headphones?”

“If you listened to me, you would’ve heard me say ‘no.’”

Bucky should’ve had brought headphones. Sam has been droning on and on with a ‘friend’ over on a video call.

Not that he’s eavesdropping and nosy but he saw how Sam lit up when a voice came in from his phone.

“Hey, Sammy! I finally get to see your face.” You say, your voice crackling over Sam’s speakers, “am I on speaker right now?”

Sam smiles, focusing on your background and seeing pictures and posters plastered on the wall, “oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot my earphones somewhere.”

“What? Old man Barnes rubbing off on you?” You laugh, your glasses reflecting your laptop’s screen. Your joke sending Sam into a laughing fit.

“You know he’s in the room, right?” Sam clarifies as he turns the camera to Bucky, much to the former’s dismay. But despite himself, Bucky waves to the camera.

“Heard a lot about you, Barnes! Hope you’re ready for frequent bathroom trips from this one.”

Sam faces you again, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Shut up or I’m gonna drop the call.”

You quickly send him an emoji via text, Sam rolling his eyes as you giggle. “Anyway, since you can’t join in on the fun, you’ll be my audience tonight.”

Sam gives you a confused look, a hint of crease appearing between his brows. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

A fake gasp and an overdramatic show of hurt had him chuckling, “You already forgot the karaoke night you promised me, didn’t you?”

He grins apologetically and looks at the camera, as if looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry. Been busy these past few weeks.”

You smile softly, the imagery giving Sam a burst of butterflies in his tummy, “it’s okay. I was just being dramatic. I got that from you, you know.”

You are not a good singer. But you confidently belt out the highest of notes like one. Complete with hand gestures, you hold out the last note of the song.

“Thank you,” you bow down to your imaginary crowd off-camera, “I’ll be here all night.”

“On god, please don’t,” Sam interjects with a tender smile and soft eyes.

“Sammy!” Your eyes glazing over your screen, a deep pang of homesickness hitting you, “I missed this. I missed you.”

He nods, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to find the words to respond, “I missed you too, bub.” 

A soft note of a love song sounds over your speaker, traveling to his, “you love this song.”

Sam nods, reminiscing the moments he had with you during college. The one time you almost kissed—where are these memories and feelings coming from?! “Yeah, and---”

The doorbell rings on your end. Your eyes glinting as you stand up. Food delivery!

“Hold that thought, Sammy. My food’s here,” you say, your voice faint as you’re practically halfway through the door.

“She is a god-awful singer,” Bucky expresses, “but you love her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sam quickly taps a button on his screen—stupid Bucky and his stupid mouth. He covers his phone’s mouthpiece as if that could help, “shut the hell up.”

Sam’s changed demeanor confirms Bucky’s growing suspicion, “so you do love her!”

The latter glances at the empty screen, hoping you didn’t hear anything. Or maybe, he does?

The only sign of life from your end is the sound of various utensils cluttering and a metal bowl falling to the floor, making both men wince at the sudden noise.

Sam lowers the volume of his phone, facing Bucky from their respective beds.

“Shit,” Sam exclaims, running a hand over his handsome face, “maybe I do.”

This time, he finally lets himself go through the memories you made together before he left for the military.

The coffee dates, the late-night calls, the breakfast hangouts, the study sessions. You light up even the most boring of things. The texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes bring Sam into a warm place.

You make him feel enough. You see him through and through.

Oh shit, he is in love with you.

Bucky just looks at him, boring holes in his face, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You really just realized, just now?” Sam’s not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

“The way you talk about her. The way you talk to her. You see her and the things she like everywhere we go and you realize it just now?” So, it is a rhetorical question.

The revelation leaves Sam amused but unable to form words, “I… Do–I do love her. I’m in love with my best friend.”

A silent beat drops in the room—save for the faint hello? coming from Sam’s phone.

Ah, fuck.

Bucky put on his jacket planning to head out (to the motel’s ice machine) to give you two privacy. He bids Sam good luck and you a good night before walking towards the door.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam increases the volume on his phone again.

“Sam?” You call out, “I can’t see you, your cam’s off.”

In panic, he realizes that he tapped the wrong button—maybe Old Man Barnes had rubbed off on him.

You smile and sat up a little bit straighter when his face lights up your screen again.

“So… how much did you hear about the whole thing?” Sam wants to tread carefully around the subject, the first time he feels uncomfortable opening up to you.

He fully expects you to dismiss the topic, turn in for the night, and leave him lamenting about his feelings. And he’s somehow okay with it.

“Kinda, everything.” You confess, there’s nothing holding you back now, “I, you know-- I’m glad you got ‘round it. Even if it took you years.”

Another pin drops inside Sam’s head, “what do you mean?”

“Look, I confessed to you before we graduated but you never acknowledged it. So, I never brought it up again.” Even miles apart, Sam’s presence was around you. The bracelet he gave you during junior year, his favorite mug you borrowed from him, a ton of his shirts and hoodies that he gave to you before moving out after graduation. 

“You confessed to me? When?” Sam racks his brain for the smallest of details, for the quietest of whispers.

“I wrote you a letter. Remember? I slipped it under your door after finals week.”

After all these years, Sam never quite found out who wrote him that letter, “you never signed it.”

Sam didn’t expect you to laugh, to double over such a serious conversation, “dude, I did, I signed it. Why would I send you a deep proclamation of love without signing it?”

“It was written on pink paper, right? I still have it. You wanna bet that you don’t have your name on it?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, heat creeping up your cheeks, “oh my god, are you serious? I didn’t sign it?”

Sam laughs softly, his eyes crinkling the same way. There are lines decorating his eyes but he was still your Sam.

“No, ma’am.” He declares, the air somehow lighter now, “if you did, I would’ve said something.”

A hum escapes your lips, curling into a gentle smile, “good to know.”

The comfortable silence envelops the room, years of yearning and pining finally coming to end.

“Hey, after this mission - I was thinking if you want to go out. Catch up and you know, finally, talk in person.” Sam asks, there’s still a tiny voice inside his head not believing the talk that had transpired.

“I’d love that, Sam.”

The sentiment crashes and closes in on itself as Bucky barges into the room, holding a bucket of ice in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, “congratulations, idiots.”

[therewasatale]

Arsenic

On Ao3.

Summary:  Alucard with hangover? Alucard with hangover.

“Oh for the love of God. What did you put in that wine? I haven’t been this drunk in centuries!” He reached out blindly towards the table next to his chair and tried to take a blood bag. He had to try it twice to finally grab it.

"Arsenic."

Alucard glanced at Walter, but not one muscle moved on the man's face.

"Oh...well." He slowly opened the bag and started to drink from it with big gulps. He shook his head, his headache finally seeming to fade.

He tried to remember. Unsuccessfully.

He could recall up until he opened the second wine bottle. Even then, he could feel his thoughts becoming lighter, his thoughts bubbling up, and the weight of centuries slowly slipping off from his soul. He could hardly believe that he was still able to get drunk again.

"So," Walter sipped his tea and stopped, he only continued when Alucard sent him a questioning look. "You've tried to bite a wolf to see if it becomes your familiar?"

In addition to the hangover, another feeling, that had not appeared for decades, rushed over him. He couldn't stop the crimson color of shame from spreading on his face.

"Shut up! I was a young vampire!" He gave out a loud snort.

Walter smiled into his cup and tried not to look into the vampires' eyes. He had to do his best not to giggle. "Hm."

"Don't just 'hm' at me! I had no idea exactly what powers I was given and-"

"But poor Wolfy didn't survive the procedure."

Alucard hat the urge to smash the man's cup into his face, but he didn't move. Doing that would mean the butler had won. In something. Somehow.

"I hate you, so much."

"Come on now, don't say that." Walter gave him a friendly smile.

"What else did I say? Come on! Tell me. I want to know." He opened another blood bag with ease. Deep in his soul he hoped Walter would tell him he hadn't said anything else about his past. However, the butler's grin hinted at the exact opposite.

"You just told me this and that. For example, how you just let that crazy Van Hellsing march into your castle." Walter slowly leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs as he spoke. "An idiot in ridiculous clothes. I have to admit; I've always been interested in how exactly you ended up serving the Hellsing family. But I have to admit, I didn't expect that." He drank his tea slowly and chose his words carefully. "So, after all, your biggest opponent so has really been that priest from the Vatican, and he still is."

The atmosphere changed in the basement.

After Alucard said nothing, the butler cleared his throat. "In any case, I'm sure Seras is still embarrassed."

Alucard looked at him after swallowing a hard gulp from the blood bag next in line. "Seras? How did she get involved in this?"

"Oh, last night you ordered me to bring her here."

"And since when you are following my orders?"

"Ever since you asked so nicely." A grin appeared on Walter's face but only for a brief moment. "Come to think of it I don't think you've ever called her 'my daughter' before."

The vampire snorted, his thick black hair curled in just a way to hide his face. No matter how hard he tried to recall the memories of the past from few hours, he felt as if trying to grab at mist, when he was just about to recall something, it always slipped out of his fingers.

"Wonderful. I'll never drink with you again."

"What a pity." Walter finished the tea from his cup and decided it was time to get to the main course. Smiling, he shook one of his leg. "Anyway, I couldn't find Anderson's phone number. I'm sorry."

Alucard's hand stopped halfway to the next blood bag. He was doing his best to read something from the butler's face, but over the years, he had gained a lot of practice to hide his thoughts even from him.

"What was that about Anderson?"

"Oh? So, you don't remember even that?"

"Walter, wipe that smile off your face," Alucard snorted deeply, but not in a threatening way. "What was that about Anderson?"

"Well, you just wanted to talk to him. 'Pouring pure wine into the glass' to quote you literally. I have to admit, you become less sarcastic and witty and more surprisingly honest when you're drunk."

The vampire hid his face in his hands. "What did I say?"

"Well." There was a moment of uncertainty in Walter's voice.

"Just tell me."

"Well, it was hard to follow, to be completely honest. But the point I suspect was that you two are not just enemies, or more like you shouldn't be just enemies. Father Anderson has a nice eyes, face and other nice body parts. Also, he can fight with true passion and fire and you two would be passionate together too." Walter let his hands rest in his lap and just let the vampire process what he heard.

Alucard suppressed a snort and slid lower into his chair. For a moment he thought that this was all just an elaborate lie from Walter, conceived just to annoy him. However, every word ringed true. He thought about these things a lot in the last year. That god damn priest was…different.

Walter cleared his throat to get the vampire's attention again.

"When you merged into the shadows to go to Sir Integra and asks for Anderson's number, even I got a little embarrassed. But I managed to talk you out of it. This time. Then you came back and slept for about three hours. After that Seras came to tell me you have woken up, and well, here we are now. " His voice became a bit softer at the end, despite his usual measured tone.

Another blood bag was emptied. Finally, Alucard felt as if his head was completely clear. At least he was no longer numb and could finally take control of not only his thoughts but also his feelings.

He slowly rose from his chair as he threw his red jacket over himself.

"Alright, I'm going to take a walk, to clear my head. And I will try to forget all this, for my own peace of mind."

"As you wish, young man."

Alucard opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. At last, a few fragments of memory were able to stumble out from the alcoholic mist. "I told you to call me that, right?"

"Maybe you did. But I must be going too." Walter stood up, the tray in his hand it hasn’t even trembled from his notion. The smile on his face haven’t faltered from his face either. "It was a really interesting night and morning, young man. Maybe we can repeat it sometime."

"I won't drink for the next 300 years. And for the love of Satan stop calling me, young man."

"Oh, but you insisted."

"Walter!"

"All right, as you wish. In any case, I wish you a pleasant walk, Alucard."

"Hm."

The door to his basement was already open when Walter stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, what's been said here will remain between us. Although Sir Hellsing may have already found Anderson's phone number for you. If he even has a phone."

The answer was simply a very aristocratic snort.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (1)

Chapter One- A post-Blip world

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Post-Blip, you find yourself more alone than ever as old friends are forever gone. You and Bucky struggle with finding life's purpose while trying to move on.

Warnings: Angst. A lot of guilt and self-blaming. Spoiler for ep 1 if you haven't seen it!

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: Here's the first chapter of the series! Check out the prologue if you have not done so! It gives you an insight into the OC's background and history with Bucky before TFATWS.

Hope you enjoy this read!

Opening up a tag list for the first time since I have gotten a request! Message or comment to let me know!

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

Previous: Prologue | Next: Chapter Two |

-------------------------//---------------------------

Present-day

Bucky felt his heart stopped for a moment when he realised what he was about to do to the terrified man from his dreams. Before he could imagine the next scene, his eyes flew wide open and he immediately sat up.

Assessing his surroundings to see that the television was still on, he realised he was home and have woken up from a nightmare. Even though Hydra’s brainwashing has been removed, the memories from his dark past continued to plague him.

The summer blanket you got for him pooled around his waist, his right hand reached out to give it a soft squeeze. The soft texture of the fabric comforted him emotionally as he sat on the cold hard floor. As he regained steady breathing, he looked around to see that it was still the early hours of the night.

He reached out for his flip phone- the one you couldn’t believe he insisted to buy over a regular smartphone. Pressing the buttons, he went to his inbox to see an unread message from you. Bucky contemplated opening it but decided to continue when he decided he wanted to hear from you.

Ever since the blip occurred, the days and weeks seemed to be a blur. Sooner than he realised, six months had just passed like that.

When Steve decided to go back to the past for good, all three of you including Sam were at a sudden loss. Bucky was disappointed but not surprised at Steve’s decision. Sam wanted the best for Steve and showed his support.

However, you were the most affected out of the group. He knew that despite putting a brave front, you were struggling with the loss of your friends in a short span of time. After all, you had spent a good amount of time with the Avengers and had a developed a close relationship with most of the team.

Bucky remembered how you immediately slumped to the floor when you heard the news about Natasha. You were at a loss of words before you started to break down when Steve went to comfort you. You always regarded Natasha as an older sister so her death hit you hard.

He recalled how you held back your tears at Tony’s funeral as you did not want to further bring down the atmosphere when Pepper and Morgan were there. He remembered how Tony was like an annoying but endearing older brother.

When Steve was disappeared from his spot, you didn’t think much of it thinking he would return in a matter of seconds after returning the stones. However, when all three of you looked to see an ageing Steve, you were the first to run up to him. Despite the astonishing expression that painted your face, you reached out to hold Steve’s hands to check if he was real.

Steve’s decision to pass Sam the shield was no surprise to Bucky. Even though Bucky found Sam irritating at times, Bucky knew he was a good man.

While you chose to accept Steve’s choice, it started to sink into your mind that the people once closest to you were gone or getting further. Bucky remembered how you were reluctant to let Steve walk away and Steve let you hold onto him longer.

You and Bucky decided to not let each other be alone that night. You two figured that at least you had each other and you wanted to cherish that.

-------------------—---//----------------------------

Moving forward, Sam had decided to find work with the U.S air force. Sam checked in on Bucky from time to time but Bucky contemplated to respond. After being pardoned for his past, Bucky found himself compensated but he still felt like a prisoner.

He was required to attend court-mandated therapy sessions to make sure he was doing well. You know that it was just a way for the government to have him under surveillance and in check.

He might be the oldest prisoner of war but he was still a super soldier and one with a vibranium arm. Bucky knew he was still deemed as dangerous in their eyes.

When you and Bucky discussed how to move forward, he confided that he wanted to make amends and you showed your support. When he asked about you, you seemed hesitant and a little lost for an answer.

The Avengers are gone. There was no more S.H.I.E.L.D.

Who were you now? What are you fighting for? What is going to be your purpose moving forward? These were all the questions swimming in your head.

You were reluctant to tell Bucky yet but a government official had paid you a visit while you were waiting for Bucky to finish his therapy session.

You were offered a position in a task force to maintain global security in light of a post-blip world. Given your abilities, you were viewed as an invaluable asset. However, you knew better than to take their words for it.

Revealing your hesitance, the official took a harder approach and laid out the truth. You were viewed as a potential threat if you were to not co-operate with the government. You are an unsupervised enhanced individual that is roaming freely. They do not want to allow that in the event that you were to do anything out of your own jurisdiction.

It was the Sokovia Accords all over again, you thought. The official added that you no longer had the Avengers team to fall back on. His words only added to the ache in your heart as you were reminded of your lost friends.

Additionally, he let off that Wanda had been involved in an event that caused the government to review their management of enhanced individuals in the country. Wanda was out of their reach but you were still around. They knew that you have been sticking by Bucky and thus decided to come for you.

Remembering Steve's words from the times of the civil war between the Avengers, you were not able to let yourself trust any words that the official said.

You didn’t want to let yourself be controlled especially by the government whom you knew had hidden agendas that they would not reveal to you. Their words of praises of how you would be a great addition made you felt like you would be nothing more than a tool in their master plans.

“What if I refuse?” You spoke to the official. The official's eyes hardened and his jaw clenched.

“Then Ms L/N, we will have to view you as a threat to national and global security.” You scoffed at his words when you stared dead into his eyes.

“You forgot that I was one of the many to help fight Thanos and brought the world back. This is how you decided to treat me after giving my service to this country? To this world?” You shot back in distaste.

You turned your back on the guy and walked off without giving him a chance to answer.

--------------------------//--------------------------

Hey Buck, I managed to find Wanda and decided to accompany her for a bit. She needs someone now.

I will let you know when I am back.

Don’t miss me too much ok! ;)

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face at your last sentence. He missed you but he knew that you had things to attend to. He understood how much you valued your remaining friends. Wanda, being one of them.

-----------------—-----//---------------------———

Bucky sighed when he realised that he was not going to get away easy with today’s therapy session. Dr Raynor was really trying to push his buttons and even took out her darn notebook again.

That ticked Bucky off the most and he reluctantly gave in. He began to share about how he crossed another name on his list of amends. Dr Raynor then gave her opinion about how even making amends wasn’t able to help with his nightmares.

Bucky continued to deny that he had any at all but he knew Dr Raynor was not convinced. Glimpsing down briefly with an unconvinced look, Dr Raynor looked back up to Bucky.

“Look. One day, you’re gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted.”

“I trust people.” Not all but maybe just one. Only one person came to his immediate thought.

“Yeah, give me your phone.” Dr Raynor put aside her notebook before reaching over to take Bucky’s phone from him. As she searched up his contact list, she remarked that there wasn’t even ten numbers in it.

“Oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships.” She spoke before noting that she was the only person Bucky called all week and how sad it was.

Dr Raynor was going to continue before she stopped herself. She opened up the chat with your name and read your last message to Bucky.

“What about Y/N?”

“What about her?” Bucky retorted.

“Seems like she’s someone you are close to?” Dr Raynor tried to imply something.

“She’s a friend,” Bucky answered firmly. Dr Raynor gave Bucky a glance before probing further. “I’ve seen her around before when she accompanied you at the beginning of your session. She seems nice.”

“She is,” Bucky answered curtly once more before deciding to shoot back, knowing his therapist was trying to probe more than he was willing to share. “What are you insinuating, doc?”

“Nothing. I am glad you at least have one friend. But you need to make more connections with other people.” Dr Raynor tried explaining. Bucky drifted off in his thoughts for a moment, thinking about how he didn’t need more people. He was fine with just you but he didn’t want to let on more than he wanted to.

He didn’t feel the need to explain about his relationship with you when you knew you two were solid. Bucky sighed internally when his therapist asked him what he wanted. Bucky thought of the calm and peace he had in Wakanda, his mind replaying the moments of you and him living a carefree life on the farm.

When he was told that he was finally free, he questioned “to do what?”. Was he ever truly free? The memories from his past, the long list of amends he had in his notebook. Could he ever truly be free from the guilt that constantly plagues him?

As Bucky made his way back to his apartment, he spotted his neighbour, Yori arguing with another neighbour, Unique over the trash. He reassured that he could take care of Yori to this Unique fellow before catching up with the grumbling old man in the alley.

Bucky convinced him that he would give a treat at their usual sushi place and that managed to pacify Yori’s mood.

-------------—-----——//---------------------——

When they were at Izzy’s, Yori mentioned how no one made it past 90 years in the obituary of the newspaper. The familiar waitress came up to the two and remarked if they were feeling adventurous since they did not order the usual.

Giving him a slight smirk, Yori suggested that Bucky should ask her out. Bucky immediately shook his head and gave Yori a bewildered look like he was crazy.

“Why not? Are you seeing that pretty friend of yours that always come to visit?” Bucky knew Yori was referring to you and immediately tried to refute the notion.

“Y/N’s just a friend.”

“Could have convinced me otherwise. You two seem really close.” Yori scoffed at Bucky’s statement.

“Such a pity. If I were 50 years younger, I would have made a move already.” Bucky chuckled at how Yori, despite being a grumpy senior most of the times, actually tried to make a witty joke. He silently agreed that you were indeed a catch and how it was crazy you have not been with anyone.

Well then again, you have always been with him all this while. Of course, as a friend, Bucky tried to convince himself that there was no way he would have a shot with you. You were too good for him and you definitely deserved someone better.

Even though he tried to convince himself, Bucky does not know what to do if you had managed to find someone and will eventually leave him to be on his own. He shook himself out of his inner thoughts and before he knew it, Yori spoke to the waitress.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” Bucky’s eyes shot wide open when he realised what Yori had actually done. Bucky tried to apologise on behalf of Yori for his bizarre behaviour but the waitress did not seem to mind. In fact, she was game and agreed.

After she went off to attend to other customers, Bucky shook his head and couldn’t believe Yori actually became his wingman. Yori then suddenly went silent for a moment. Bucky was nervous before hearing how Yori spoke of his beloved son who had passed away due to an incident.

Bucky listened intently with the guilt gnawing in his gut, his heart heavy with all of the weight of the world.

------———------------//------------------------—

Bucky convinced himself to go on the date with Leah. He decided to give himself the chance to make more connections as Dr Raynor had advised. The date was going well in fact. Leah seemed like a great gal but Bucky felt himself holding back.

There were just too many secrets he was holding in. What would she think if she knew who he really was? Would she even want to be in the same room as him then?

While he tried the whole online dating thing (much to your masked disappointment and amusement), he was not convinced if he could really make a romantic connection with anyone. Who was he kidding? Could he ever?

When the topic of conversation turned to Yori, the overwhelming sensation started to descend onto Bucky’s consciousness. Before he could stop, he immediately tapped out. Giving a pathetic excuse, Bucky rushed back to Yori’s apartment and had the urge to tell him the truth.

However, when he saw the altar that Yori had dedicated to his son, Bucky withdrew himself. He did not want to lose a friend in Yori even though he was dying to say the truth.

Bucky pretended to come up with an excuse to a confused Yori by paying his half of lunch before stalking off. When Bucky returned to his place, he opened up his notebook and stared at Yori’s name.

What was he to do?

A ring on his phone averted his intense thoughts and he reached for his phone.

Hey Buck, I am done on my side.

Would be back soon!

Can’t wait to see you again, missed you!

Bucky clutched his phone tighter and brought it close to his heart. He started counting down the hours till he could welcome you back in his arms.

-------------———----//------------------------——

[imaginationjunkie]

Dancing with our hands tied

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda soft

Thought of these songs while writing, so give them a listen while reading!

Note: Jason’s 25 and the reader is 21

I was always a fan of the over the top charity galas Bruce Wayne threw. The elitists in their flashy riches, extravagant decorations and endless varieties of food, and a certain Wayne brother in a suit. It was all very amusing to witness.

I felt like a princess walking down the stairs with Tim every time, who refused to ever get an actual date. So I’d been stuck being his unofficial date for the 5 years that I’d known him. Not that I minded much; he was my best friend after all.

I chose a simple flowy dress tonight, blood red in color, silky like water. The subtle eyes that followed me through the evening didn’t go unnoticed.

But my eyes followed just one sight. A sight that erupted the unwanted greenness of jealousy as I sulked in a corner, celebrating turning 21 recently with a champagne flute in hand.

I felt him before I saw him. Warmth soothed my skin at his presence, despite the fact that I was unfairly mad at him. It wasn’t like he was my boyfriend.

Easier to say than do, and thus all the salt in the world seemed to be in my tone as I spoke first.

“Where’s your date?”

Jason Todd’s eyes might’ve been cool blue, but the feel of them didn’t match the description. The side of my head felt like it would burst into golden flames under the intensity of his stare.

But they were the good kind of flames, the best kind of flames. It was almost miraculous, the way I managed to keep my calm.

“She bailed, something about her sick grandma,” was his soft response.

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the tone?” He leaned closer, hot breath teasing my cheek. Jason had gotten awfully bold since the first time we met, when he couldn’t even look into my eyes straight.

“Is it jealousy I sense?”

I tried to be subtle about my sharp inhale. Judging by the stutter of his lips as he suppressed a smirk, I failed.

But why hide anymore? I was never one to hold back anyway.                                                                                                                          “Yes, it is.”

It was my turn to take his breath away. I turned my head, challenging him with my stare. But I was too tangled in his game to play in charge. He had me, and he knew it. Right?

A smile filled with swirls of mischief and satisfaction designed his lips. Yes, he definitely knew it.

It caught me off guard, the unfiltered beauty of it. Of him. Watching Jason Todd smile, really smile, was not for the weak hearted.

“Then I think you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t a date. Just a friend.”

Eyes the color of a swirling blue sea, a face handsome enough to cause heartache. Why’d it take me so long to realize that I could never resist him? Not even in a million years. Not even if Ryan Gosling came offering himself to me.

A little too far?

Maybe, but it’s true. What to do?

I was just about to walk away from him, refill the empty flute of champagne to bring back sparkle to my uneventful evening. A large hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me.

“Let’s dance,” he said with the softness of tulle, pulling my frame closer to his larger one. Close enough to smell his cologne. Like a creep in the street, I subtly took a slow sniff of it.

It’d never stop amusing me, how a man who seemed as rough and rugged around the edges as he did had so much softness in him.

And smelled so. damn. good.

“M’kay,” I agreed, following as he led the way to the ballroom. Or so I thought.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” I inquired, looking back at the flashing dance floor full of people we left behind.

“I do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at me, still walking to God knows where with my hand in his.

“We literally just crossed the dance floor, where else on earth do you plan on taking me dancing?”

“Who said anything about a dance floor?”  Jason smirked, coming to a stop in the garden behind the manor.

Even though it was off limits to Bruce’s guests tonight, the garden looked particularly beautiful. Strings of fairy lights decorated the flawlessly kept greens and flowers, courtesy of Alfred. The pool lights were on, and a surreal soft blue glow lit up the water.

It matched Jason’s eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Long fingers tilted my chin up, and a gasp reverberated the air as my eyes met the mystical view. Stars glittered the midnight canvas endlessly, and in the center of it all sat the full moon like a queen.

She was regal tonight.

My mouth was slightly open in awe, and Jason’s fingers on my chin softly closed it as he chuckled.

“I’m guessing you like the view?”

“Like it? I might as well marry it!” I exclaimed, eyes wide with glee as I gripped his shoulders.

“Dick used to bring his, ahem, lady companions to charm them back when I was Robin. I’d always barge in and interrupt to interrogate about the last woman I saw with him,” he laughed while recalling the memory.

“Did it work?” I smiled back and stood closer to him, the fronts of our bodies slightly touching. My hands had come down to rest on his chest now, and while my eyes were up roaming the sky, my soul’s attention was solely on him.

He shuffled with something in his suit pocket. “Did what work?”

“Dick’s method of charming the ladies?”

“Judging by the walks of shame Alfred and I had to witness every morning after each Wayne gala, yes. It very much did.”

I felt Jason put something in my ear, and finally looked down from the stars to his eyes in confusion. It was an airpod, and I watched silently as he put the other one in his ear.

“I promise I’m not a creep or anything, but I stalked your Spotify playlists and found one titled ‘dancing under the stars’.” He confessed. In a very un-Jason like manner, he looked almost sheepish.

He didn’t look at me as he pressed play and pocketed his phone. Almost immediately ‘Dancing with our hands tied’ by Taylor Swift came on, and he took my hand in his.

Tingles shot up the pit of my stomach as his free arm wrapped around my waist, fingers resting on my hip. We swayed in beat to the music in our ears, eyes on eyes.

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know,

The lords, and anyone who knew me actually, knew how big of a swiftie I was. The fact that he had put in the effort to pick the absolute perfect song to dance to had to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.

I was completely mesmerized. Guys like this only existed in the encasement of my stash of romance novels; but time and time Jason Todd had proved that idea wrong. Every one of his gestures, one after the other, seemed to catch me off guard more than the previous one.

“Wanted to do this since I was 17,” I breathed the fresh air in, craning my neck to rest my chin on his shoulder. This right here was all I needed to relax. This was my very own customized form of peace.

“Yeah, Tim let it slip when he got drunk on your birthday and started blabbing about how you’re growing up in front of his eyes,” he laughed and pulled back to twirl me.

I crashed back into his chest softly, grinning at his revelation.

“It’s so hard to believe you guys are best friends, that Timmy’s actually capable of having normal human conversations other than his usual nerdy blabber,” Jason continued, pulling me even closer to him while dancing.

No objections were made from my side as I obliged (obviously), staring up at his eyes.

They were like an oceanic maze, too easy to get lost in. Too dangerous to get lost in.

“He’s a good friend. Awfully robot-like at times though, and he always smells of coffee.” I breathed with a chuckle as the air around us got intense.

The gold of the fairy lights hit his eyes, making them shine brighter than the stars above I let my hands grip the hairs on his neck, watching carefully as he took a sharp breath in response.  

If there was something Jason and my relationship, whatever that it was, didn’t lack, it was moments like these. Moments where we had a conversation with our eyes, expressing how much we wanted to kiss each other, how much we wanted to stay frozen in the present and relish in the feel of our undeniable chemistry.

It had been going on for way too long, and even Tim was getting tired of us not taking the leap of faith.

Initially he was pretty against it, but when he saw exactly how much I felt for his brother, his blessings for us suddenly started pouring in.

“Uhuh,” Jason hummed. An electric sensation buzzed the air around us as the chorus hit, and all the space between our bodies vanished. Butterflies went haywire in the places of my body he touched. He was everywhere.

But we were dancing Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied Yeah, we were dancing Like it was the first time, first time

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he harshly whispered, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with desire as he tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I do,” I whispered in response, knowing exactly what he meant.

His breath hit my lips, forehead fell against mine in a moment of desire and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

It was needy and rushed and a thousand other adjectives, but it was my most perfect kiss. It would always be my most perfect kiss.

Jason’s muscular arms encircled my waist as he pressed me up against him, gripping my sides and lifting me to stand on his feet. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and a sneaky stutter of a moan escaped my lips, earning me a groan from him.

Passion burned us under the cool night air as we kissed and kissed and kissed, all thoughts of oxygen forgotten in our haze of need.

But even our passion couldn’t defy nature. We pulled back to breathe in as much air as we could, but instead of diving back in towards each other’s lips like I expected us to, Jason simply stared at me with eyes that now looked navy from being hooded.

It was a stare of a few seconds that seemed like hours as his thumbs brushed the side of my face. The fire of need from a while back was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

We both tried to calm ourselves, but an unstoppable part of me leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“Wanted to do that since you were 17,” he said cheekily, hands tracing my back as we now let ‘Wonderland’ by Taylor amuse our ears.

“Liar,” I grinned. “You couldn’t even look at me back then.”

“Yeah, because I’d do this if I looked at you for more than 5 seconds. I had no plans of going to jail for getting handsy with a minor,” he replied, leading us to the wooden benches Bruce had installed in the garden a few weeks earlier.

I lifted a teasing brow, masking my shock at the fact that he wanted to kiss me even back then.

“And how’re you so sure I would’ve let you get handsy with me? For all you know I could have kicked you in the balls myself.”

“Don’t act coy, you could never stop staring at me when you were over,” he smirked, sitting down on the bench and pulling me to his lap.

I hesitated for a second, my brain getting lost in the fact that after months of banters and unbelievable tension, interruptions and two sided pining, I was finally in this position. Where we were able to be open about our want for each other.

Sensing my hesitation, his smirk dropped. “This is okay right?”

I snapped back to reality, taking his nervous expression in. Yes, this was real. And I wouldn’t waste a second of the time God gave me with Jason. I smirked and ran my fingers through his dark locks, making him close his eyes.

“Of course it is, just thinking about how long it took for you to man up and kiss me,”

“Excuse me, you could’ve-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. He responded almost immediately, putting his hand on my hip as I sat sideways on his lap. Unlike the first one, this kiss was sweet and slow. We were cherishing the night with it.

“About damn time, I thought all my teeth were gonna fall out due to old age before Todd here grew some balls,” the sudden voice of a certain sass filled Wayne interrupted us.

My magical night with Jason ended with him running after his kid brother Damian, teasing him about kicking his ass.

But that was okay, because I was happy. Jason was happy. The long wait for him, for us, was worth it.

Even though he gave off the impression that he couldn’t care less, I knew that the reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wanted Tim to be completely fine with us being a thing.

Alongside being friends with Tim, I became friends with his brothers and Alfred over the years. I knew of their nightlife, and everything that went on behind the polished doors of the Wayne Manor. I knew Jason well enough to know that his tough posterior and damn care attitude was just a facade.

Being with Jason wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I knew that too. He was reckless and intense, impulsive and careless.

But he was also sweet and passionate, and his love would brand you like a tattoo with it’s depth. I was willing to give my 110% to make it work with him.

Because even fairy tales take sacrifice and effort to get a happy ending. And I’d do about anything to make sure I earned mine.

[amjustagirl]

Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.

Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)

Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3

Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.

Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader

She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.

Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.

‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.

‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.

‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.

She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.

She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.

She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.

‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese  gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.

There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.

‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.

(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)

‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.

‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.

‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.

‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.

To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.

Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.

She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.

‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.    

‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.

He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.

‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.

Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.

‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.

She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.

But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.

When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.

‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.

Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.

Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).

So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training –  because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.

Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.  

He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.

But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.

So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.

‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.

And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.

The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.

(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)

‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.

She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.

‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.

They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.

Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.

He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.

Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.

He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.

‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.

He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.

It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses  Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses  her.

He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as  home.

But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.

He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.

‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’

‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.

Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.

‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.

Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.

‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.

Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.

He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.

But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.

He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.

She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about  ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’  - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.

When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.

And he does, because they win.

The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won  -

Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.

Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair -  fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.

I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.

‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.

Her heart is safe in my hands.

She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.

She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.

‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and  love .

‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.

‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.

[kojinnie]

Something About Pain | Reiner Braun

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Reader (she/her pronoun)

Summary: You ran away from home and your boyfriend Reiner Braun is desperate to bring you home. When the two of you meet, you share a conversation about how pain inflicts the two of you differently.

Tags & Warning: Angst, (eventual) fluff, (mild) hurt/comfort, slow burn, major miscommunication problem, past trauma, abandonment issue, mention of anxiety, Reiner is a grumpy, hurt individual yet delicate inside | SFW

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Based on the request by @okubean for Twisted Match-Up! I hope you like it, boo! (More A/N at the end of the fic)

.::My Masterlist::.

Twisted Match-Up (x Reader): Zeke | Hange | Jean 

There was a vivid look of worry on the face of Reiner Braun as he drove through the empty neighborhood streets. His right hand on the steering wheel, the other one tapping anxiously on the phone, dialing the same number over and over again to no avail.

All of his calls had gone straight to your mailbox, and his text messages were no longer delivered. Reiner came to realize that you've blocked him. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, cursing this whole modern affinity to accommodate people running from their problems easier. Reiner thought the feature was the stupidest thing ever created by humankind, he was pissed, but more annoyed. He realized how tired he was, and if he could, he'd rather be in bed right now. Not roaming your friend's neighborhood at ungodly hour.

"Where... the fuck... are you..." he was pissed, evident from the grunt as he tried one final desperate attempt to call you. It went straight to your mailbox. Your cheery voice didn't make him feel any better, if any, Reiner wished he could tell the mailbox-you to shut the hell up.

Reiner finally hit the brake, sighing annoyed. His black SUV stopped underneath the streetlamp, at a random neighborhood he could only vaguely remember. He had been here before, when he picked you up from your bestfriend's house after one of your "night out" with your friends from college, but he could barely remember which one of these identical suburban houses did she live.

He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, racking his brain trying to remember the house number. Is this even the correct cul-de-sac? There are tens others. Who the fuck came up with the concept of suburban housing? Strips and strips of uniformed houses. And even worse, who the fuck thought that it was such a great idea to live in one? Like some Stepford Wives nightmare. Reiner couldn't believe some people would save up money for all their lives to pay off their mortgage to live in complete conformity, like a communist utopia with capitalist credit system. Were these people right in the head or had their brains fucked over by the boring 9 to 5 jobs they've had for decades?

That's beside the point. Reiner sighed. He ranted a lot when frustrated.

He knew you'd be there, in one of these houses, curled up crying in your bestfriend's bed, perhaps pouring your heart out on how much of a bad boyfriend Reiner was. He knew because you've passed the micro-aggression millionth times, muttering under your breath, saying that you'd be fine if Reiner kicks you out because your bestfriend would take you. What kind of fuckery was all that? Why would he ever kick you out? Reiner thought. He was clueless. Why were you so adamant that he would leave you eventually? Reiner could feel his annoyance grew while reminiscing your antics. He began to think, maybe he had never understood you to begin with.

But Reiner was wrong, because he was right about a lot of things about you. You were exactly in your bestfriend's house, curled up in her bed, ranting how hard it was being with Reiner. Although the tears had dried since hours ago. You were in your PJs and drinking the hot coco your friend had made you, comfortable in the bliss of obliviousness upon the fact that your boyfriend of one year was now driving aimlessly trying to locate your position. You were adamant that he was going to leave you anyway, you thought he wouldn't exert an ounce of energy trying to plea you home.

It was 4 AM in the morning and you hadn't come home. The trace of you had gone completely from Reiner's apartment since early morning. Reiner knew that this was bound to happen, had he done anything differently - would you stay? He thought of you and the state that the two of you had been tangled in. All the unresolved tension, or the persistent insinuations coming from you that you always shrugged off in the end, saying "Nothing." as if it did not matter, each time Reiner shot them with, "What did you say?"

You sipped your hot coco and let a troubled whimper as you told your bestfriend what was happening. It's the culmination of small things, your feeling of inadequacy and the anxiety of waking up every morning, being convinced that each day would be the day that Reiner finally leaves you. Every day you’d be mentally preparing yourself for the ultimate fate until Reiner returns home with his big, warm hug until your anxiety caves in. And that the anxiety would appear again in the next morning.

The idea of him leaving became incessant and you could never bug it off. You wondered why, maybe because you believed that you were inherently flawed. Maybe it's the way Reiner made that small "Tsk," when he came home to see the garbage piled up, "Babe, didn't I tell you to put out the garbage?"; or the deep, annoyed and condescending sighs he made when he missed his favorite show because you forgot to pay the cable bills while he was out at the office.

Maybe it's the way you couldn't match his sharp memory and reliability with you constantly forgetting things and your seeming inattentiveness despite the abundant reminders, notes and alarms you've made to keep yourself alerted. At times, your mind just wandered, and you needed him to rope you back in, but he never got the gist.

So, you were adamant that you had grown to be nothing but inconvenience for him, hence when he spent the night over at his office due to what he called "Shit load of work" over the phone, you were certain he wouldn't come back at all. You knew that the pain of being abandoned would haunt you to myriad of miseries, so you'd rather leave first. You knew it would be the end you both needed, because you knew Reiner did not care about you enough to tolerate your shit any longer. He was always quiet, there was hardly ever any expression on his face, God knows what he was thinking underneath. Each of your "Reiner, I'm sorry." would only be met by a singular hum or a quick, "It's okay." that left you wondering, did he ever mean it at all?

So that morning you left. While he was still at the office, because you knew there was no feelings strong enough for Reiner to keep him from leaving you eventually. You left first.

Your bestfriend nodded in reassurance, "You gotta do what you gotta do." she said pulling you into a warmly hug, but your attention was suddenly caught by the pile of plastics and packages from your take-outs at the corner of your friend's room. It just bothered your mind, and you got up to take it out. A small token of atonement to what you wish you had done to Reiner.

Your bestfriend immediately scrambled and took the garbage away from you. Insisting for you to stay in bed and let her take care of it. You nodded and retreated to the pillow fortress. You felt bad for her because the temperature was dropping, and there was no necessity to take the garbage out right now, but your impulse was often hard to subside, and your friend had grown to acknowledge and take sympathy over that. Unlike Reiner, you thought.

Maybe it's because Reiner never shown anyone openly about what he felt, but what you did not know, sometimes he wish he had. Sometimes he wished he'd opened up about how hard it is for him to breathe when unfortunate things occur that he did not have the answer to. Sometime he wished he could share his fear, worry, anger and disappointment, but he was always thought that a man got to suck it up, and perseverance was the only way he knew how to survive.

Sometimes he wished he had told somebody that the constant worrying about his loved ones consumed him too, to the point it became hard for him to let his guard down even when things are okay. He was always on alert, and sometimes it got exhausting too for him. He wished he had told all that, so in times like these he did not have to assume the heartbreak alone while trying to find the solution to it. Sometimes he wished people knew that he cared too, he loved too, he knew too when someone he loved was struggling, but he never learned how to show it. Reiner knew your mind often raced hundreds of miles per hour, Reiner knew your state of agitation, but he never had anyone to teach him how affection should look like, other than be of service, which he tried his best at being. It was no wonder that Reiner was left clueless when you chose to leave without warning.

He was pissed because he knew how daft he was, yet none of it was ever intentional. He cursed himself for not knowing what went wrong, for not being more observant, for not being open with his feelings, for not telling you how much he had grown to love you and how much his apartment immediately grew cold at your absence. But mostly, at this moment, he cursed himself because he wasn't attentive enough to know you friend's house number.

The air was crisp when your bestfriend stepped out of her porch. She made quick steps to the garbage can when she saw bright headlights coming in from the end of the street. She grunted, wondering what was her neighbor doing, cruising around with dramatically low speed. It seemed odd.

She put her fingers above her eyes, trying to recognize the plate number or the driver, but the black SUV lights were dispersing her sight.

She closed the garbage can and tried to immediately return inside but the car cruised closer and pulled over in front of her. The window rolled open.

"Hey," There was an immediate look of surprise from the person that Reiner barely recognized. But he was sure enough that it was her, judging from her body language; all tensed and alerted, "This is Reiner."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence between Reiner and your bestfriend. She was considering carefully on what to say next.

"Uhm yeah, I know." Your bestfriend finally spoke, her voice creaked, caught by surprise. "What do you want?"

Reiner spoke your name, "I want to meet my girlfriend." Reiner could hear the desperation in his own voice, but your friend jeered in response.

"My girlfriend." she passingly mocked the way Reiner spoke, she came to dislike what she thought was possessiveness in Reiner's nature of speaking, "She's not available. I suggest you to scram. Before my neighbors complain."

Reiner furrowed his brows in dismay, couldn't seem to understand the hostility presented by your friend, "I need to talk to her."

She stood unyielding. Reiner opened the door and climbed off of the car, sighing as he walked closer, propelling your friend to keep her distance away even further. "Please, let me talk to her."

"Not a chance." She turned around and scurried back into the house. Reiner was quick to yell, to her expected dismissal. Without thinking further, Reiner got back to behind the wheel and moved his car forward on to the curb, proceeding to close off the exit way for her small city car in the driveway.

Reiner jumped off the car as your besfriend realized what he had done, "I'm not moving the car until she comes down."

She let out a restraint shrieked, "What the fuck?! I got a dentist appointment tomorrow morning!"

"Then please, tell her to come down and talk to me," Reiner said, sounding almost apologetic. He threw a glance at a lonely swing set in the small park across the street, "there."

The occurrence happening before your eyes was unexpected to say the least. You closed the small slit from your bestfriend's window fold, trying to manage your heartbeat that had become almost deafening. At the same time your bestfriend appeared from the door, face red with flustered, "I think he really wants to see you."

Thousands of thoughts made a commotion in your head. It did not make any sense. You made it easier for Reiner by walking away with clean slate, you were sure this was what he had hoped secretly.

Your friend shuffled inside and shot you a deep stare, she sighed heavily and told you that whether you liked it or not, you had to face him. Reiner looked genuinely worried, she said, twisting your guts even further.

You sat in her bed for a moment, trying to relive every waking moment with Reiner. Sure there were moments when your own thoughts chased you into a deep corner and you wished Reiner had seen it. Sometimes you wished he’d hold you tight, kiss you with reassurance and told you how meaningful you were to him. Sure, sometimes being with Reiner could feel lonely, but he had never treated you back nor was he ever intentionally mean to you. What do I want? The question hung heavy in your mind.

I want him to say that he wants me, the voice within the nook of your brain said, I want him to say that he loves me.

You nodded, finally ceasing from running away further.

             Reiner never thought that at his 20-something he would sit miserably on a random swing-set at a random neighborhood just an hour before the dusk cracked. Reiner was a big man, but even with his figure and the aid of his tailored suit and shirt, wrinkled after gruesome hours at work trying to keep his company afloat on the thin ice of his personal relationship with you – Reiner was tired, and miserable, and desperate. Even more, he was cold as the temperature continued to drop down.

He hung his head low, trying to fight the shivers. It was quiet, too quiet, only the faint sound of the wind and the creaking sound of the swing-set holding off to its dear life under Reiner’s massive weight. The man sighed, never he thought that the sight of you coming out of someone’s house in the dead of a  night would be a spectacle he looked forward to the most.

He closed his eyes, shutting himself off from any sound and thought. Thinking that maybe in the bleakness of his sense, the time would pass faster and your heart would soften.

In the nothingness Reiner could feel a sudden warmth crept from the tips of his fingers, he opened his eyes to see you standing before his eyes, towering him who was sitting like a pathetic boy on the swing. You were wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, hiding your PJs underneath. In your hands were two cups of scalding tea, you shoved one into his hand, “You came.” You stated.

Reiner let out a deep sigh of relief as he saw you safe and sound. He felt warmth travelled across his body, he did not know whether it was the tea in his hand or simply the sight of you that made him felt so. His eyes latched on to you as you sat on the swing next to him, “Hey. What are you doing?” Reiner asked.

“Running away.”

“Why?”

Reiner looked at you intently, and the guilt started to consume you. You gazed afar, softly shook your head, “Dunno.”

“I see.”

Yet another silence ensued.

“How’s work?”

Reiner sighed again; the heavy breath seemed to be the only way the two of you communicated. Just two troubled minds pouring their burden at each other, “Bertholdt abruptly resigned—fuck, it’s been a nightmare, but—” Reiner pressured his thumb over his brows, trying to ease his sharp migraine that suddenly came, “—that doesn’t matter now. Will you come home?”

He looked at you again, you were still gazing to god-knows-what, everything other than his eyes. Reiner grew antsy on his seat, the swing creaked again. Please look at me. Please look at me. The words resonated incessantly in Reiner’s head but nothing came out of his mouth. Just a stoic, to-the-point question.

Don’t you wanna know the problem, Reiner? Is that all? I said I don’t know and you didn’t even try to dig in deeper? You came all the way here and you just straight up asking me to go home with you? Your mind was nowhere better. It’s in uproar but there was only silence coming out of your mouth. But he came, he didn’t leave. Contradiction danced inside your mind like an unwanted guest.

The silence grew heavier. You saw the lights from your bestfriend’s bedroom lit off, she had got to be tired eventually. Suddenly, you felt so alone. Just the two of you in this odd morning.

“It’s hard, right?” Reiner broke the silence, he looked at you again, this time he was desperate for you to look into his eyes. Little did he know, you were refusing to do so because you could feel your fragility forming in your eyes. You swore not to cry.

“What?” Just a depthless answer you uttered.

“Growing up.” Reiner muttered. The man sounded almost contemplative in his defeat. He sighed again and shook his head, “I thought I’d be someone better by this time in my life.”

The answer surprised you. You thought he would say something like ‘Relationship is hard’ or some jargons he picked up from one of the movies he watched without you. You felt bad for undermining him just because you were upset with him. Does it really mirror your true perception of him? Maybe you really hadn’t known him that well.

You had no resolve to his statement, so you just nodded, allowing him to pour out his thoughts.

“I thought I’d be better with my job, with myself, and most importantly,” he shifted to lurch towards you on his seat, the wire strings of the swing twisted to your direction, “with the people I love. But obviously, I still… suck.”

“And here I am. 4 AM. A fucking adult on a fucking neighborhood swing-set.”

You could feel the air suctioned out of your lungs, as you felt guilt loomed bigger inside you. He came and he felt bad – what more could I ask for? But then you remembered the nights of loneliness despite having Reiner sleeping next to you. You had a bad day, but you were too prideful to come clean. You wanted him to be intuitive, but he never did. Being with Reiner, you had mastered the art of crying in silence while sharing the bed with him. It’s exhausting. Yeah, Rei, maybe you’re bad at this.

Despite that, you stayed silent.

“Will you hate me if I say I don’t know what’s wrong?” Reiner knew how daft he sounded, “God. I’m pushing my luck coming clean at you.”

You were at loss for words. You had so many things to say, but too few of a courage.

Reiner called your name. He reached over and tried to tangle one of your fingers with his. From your periphery sight, you could see him forcing a smile, “I—”

He sighed again. Reiner’s chest was filled with words and all he wanted was to vomit it out, but he never knew how to properly addressed the feelings he had—he couldn’t even describe what he felt. All he knew was one thing: he wanted you home, back in his arms, “I am a stupid man. I really don’t know what’s happening between us. You.. just.. gone. Please, just tell me what’s wrong. I’m not smart enough for all these..”

There was almost a childish plea in Reiner’s words, and you couldn’t help but to threw a faint smile. You chuckled, “What did you say? You’re—what?”

He scoffed at himself, “I am stupid.”

You finally caved in because you realized there was an undeniable genuineness in the way he spoke. And the sentiment was mutual, you felt stupid as well for you had not realized how completely, utterly, truly clueless Reiner was.

Eventually, you looked at him. His hardened face quickly turned wary to finally see how puffy your eyes were from crying earlier, you forced a smile, but it was clear you were pretending, “You make me feel so lonely sometimes.”

The words came out of your mouth like a canonball that had been stuck in your chest for too long. You felt relief, but on the other side, Reiner could feel his heart broke. A pain from a man realizing too late of the damage he had caused.

You thought of everything that had made you feel so. The way Reiner rolled over in bed away from you, drowsy and unaware, when you called him in the dead night as your anxiety kicked in; when his hand let you go as you tried to hold his hands in public; the complete non-existing mention of you in his social media; the take-outs that he mindlessly brought home when you had cooked dinner; his easiness in dropping a problem after he said sorry without checking up with you further.

It was the absent of his intuition that made you felt invisible – but you realized too late that maybe he was truly oblivious, evident as he said, “But how?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Babe,” he further tangled your fingers into his grasp. Your hand and his, they hung in the middle of the two swing seats, “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“I’ve always thought you wanted to leave me but never got the right moment to it. The affection—I hardly ever got it from you. Not the affirming words, not the reassurance. Hell, maybe I want that public kiss and hugs that you thought was stupid, Rei. Just—”

You could feel the tears forming, choking you mercilessly, “—just to feel loved. To feel wanted. For once.”

You finally let your tears dropped. And Reiner was slapped with realities that both of you were in. He let go of your hand and stared down at the pavement, “I’m sorry. I never knew.”

“You never asked.”

“But I never knew. How am I supposed to know that I should ask when I didn’t know I should ask on the first place? I’ve always thought you wanted to be left alone when all your crazy thoughts come in—but you—”

“—you—"

Reiner groaned, obviously frustrated. He rested the blabber, “Maybe we’re just not good at this.”

Like a train, you could feel the ending coming to hit you. This is it. This is it. You thought to yourself, picturing how Reiner would finally leave you. You secretly wished Reiner wouldn’t give in, you wish he’d put up more fight, so at least you’d know that you carried a weight in his heart. But you knew this was bound to happen, so why were you so upset?

“Maybe.” You wiped your tears dry, “That’s okay, Reiner. I know that’s what I am.”

“What?”

“I’m just an embarkation point, right? Everyone will leave me eventually. That’s why I left, because I know eventually, we’ll be talking about this. So I’d better leave first.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Reiner grew even more frustrated with the way you danced around your words.

“It’s okay if you want to leave me. That’s what all people do to me.”

“You left because you think I was planning to leave you all along?” Reiner asked, sounding painfully offended as he finally got to gather what you were insinuating, “So that is the problem?”

“Yeah, so I better leave first, right? Before I get hurt again? Before you leave me like other people and—”

“Fuck other people!” Reiner raised his voice, which he immediately regretted. He ran his fingers over his hair irritated, turning it into a complete blond mess, “Are you trying to avenge your revenge for other people—those exes you’ve had—on me?”

Tears welled up again in your eyes, as you looked away from him. But he called on your name again, this time there was a deep sternness in his call that you couldn’t help but to face him. Reiner was glad that you finally gained courage to speak the truth, when he had not, “So you want reassurance, yeah? How about the times I told you how beautiful, how smart, how great you are – only for you to tell yourself the opposite immediately.”

Reiner looked directly into your eyes, “I can’t make you something you’re not. What you are is who you think you are.”

“You can never matter – if you don’t think you do.”

An expressionless, soundless tear fell onto your cheek. A heart broke to your dismay. Reiner finally said the truth and there was no way you could delude yourself into thinking that he was wrong, “Then… why don’t you just leave me, Rei? Why don’t you get rid of me a long time ago?”

“Because I’m giving you something that I never received in my entire life, ever. I’m staying for you.” There was a palpable pain in the way Reiner spoke. He landed his finger on to your heart and you could feel it pierced through your skin with heavy realization, “I’m staying. Like no one ever did in my life. Not my ex-girlfriends, not my friends, and certainly not my father. That’s what makes us different. I have more faith in you than you have in me.”

Reiner was a man with heavy heart. He had been through a lot of things in his life, learned how to fend on for himself since very young, and dreamed of the day when he could finally put his hair down with someone he cared for. And what you hadn’t realize, was how essentially similar you were to him. How both of you longed for someone to let go of your inhibitions and fear? Just two broken people finding refuge in each other’s longing for the same thing. And that’s what you failed to see. He understood you, just in a way you didn’t understand.

And that’s the thing about pain, they are inherently personal. No matter how much you have shared yourself to others.

The two of you went dead silent for a moment. In the horizon, the sun rays were starting to emerge, the morning had arrived.  Your tears cascaded painfully slow; Reiner was looking at his feet trying to sip his tea that had gone cold. His hands were trembling with both sadness and anger that were beginning to secede.

Reiner finally called your name, this time it was delicate, “I’m sorry, alright?”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes as you nodded, “Alright.”

“Will you come home, now?”

“Yes,” you muttered, “I think I will.”

The two of you got up and Reiner immediately drew you into his chest, holding you the tightest you had ever been held, reconnecting all the broken pieces scattered inside you. You buried your face into his strong chest as you sobbed once more, while he kissed the top of your head with affection more vivid than thousands of words of affirmations.

“What do we do with these hearts, Rei?” You asked as you felt your chest throbbing with pain and love.

The man loosened his embrace and smiled, “Persevere.”

A/N:

First of all thank you so much to @okubean for giving me a hellish prompt! This one really made me faced my own abandonment issue and poured it into a writing. I tried to touch about the absent-mindedness as the implication of ADHD but I’m really worried that it doesn’t really do it justice. So hereby my sincere apologies! 😭🙏

Nonetheless, I really hope that you may enjoy this piece and I’m so sorry if it comes off as boring!

I literally drafted this on the metro, and got really carried away with it!

Did I enjoy it? (Yes)

Did this turn out longer than I expected? (Yes)

Am I worried this will bore people? (Yes)