#maybe i was happier being that quiet girl standing against the wall?

[luimagines]

First Kiss! Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Sky, Legend and Time

Content under the cut!

Sky

Walking through the town was something mundane and simple.

Walking through town hand in hand with your boyfriend Sky was comforting, a journey and a delight.

You always seemed to see things differently when he was around and you’re not sure why but walking with him always made things look brighter, happier, more enjoyable. You never wanted it to end.  

The two of you turned into the town square and watched the others of the group disperse into the natural inclinations for civilization. You laughed and leaned against Sky as they went away, the two of you not having a destination in mind.

“I don’t actually want to do anything right now.” Sky admitted as you walk. “Is there something you had in mind or can we go?”

You hum and think for a moment and realize that there’s not much you think the town can offer you at the moment that would be worth staying and shake your head. “Nope. I’m good.”

Sky smiled and begins to drag you along to the outer rings of the place, making random turns at random times just trying to create distance no matter how imaginary.

“I thought we were leaving.” You snort and stop in your tracks, keeping Sky from moving forward.

Sky blushes a little and uses his other hand to scratch the back of his head. “I realized we would need to check in with someone and I didn’t know where any of them went. So-”

“So we can’t leave because someone could go looking for us?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah...”

You snort and cover your mouth with your free hand. “I should have known.”

“What?”

“You’re too much of a good boy to just ditch people.” You grin and tilt your head. ”Which is cute but I should have known there’s no way you’re a bad boy, even for as something as trivial as knowing where we are.”

You shake your head good naturedly and feel Sky get closer. “Honestly I should have-”

Sky gets into your personal space and the close proximity stuns you into silence.

Sky raises an eyebrow and leans even closer. “I can be a bad boy, if I wanted to.”

The air suddenly feels charged and while you’re not sure with what, you somehow manage to get your tongue working again to shape the words you need to say. “No offence dear, but I doubt that.”

Sky leans in and you lean back to gain some space, less he collide with your face only to feel your back collide with a wall behind you.

You’re trapped. 

You gulp and look up into Sky’s eyes with confusion, only marginally intimidated by his actions.

Sky smirks and you feel a blush cover your face as you bite your lip. You look down out of embarrassment and try to figure out what’s going on with your heart at the same time. Sky finally lets go of your hand and brings his arm over your head to rest his weight on it, his other hand coming up to put a finger under your chin, lifting it just a little higher for you to properly look him in the eyes.

The action combined with the somewhat devilish look on his face and his action have you go weak in the knees and you press yourself deeper into the wall for some semblance of stability.

Sky looks you up and down at the sight and tilts his head, the smirk ever present.

He’s enjoying this.

Your heart is pounding, all you seem to hear is your blood rushing in your ears and your whole body feel too warm and ice cold at the same time.

Sky leans into your face and you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he places little butterfly kisses against you. He brushing his nose against yours on accident but it fails to feel that way. If anything it makes the moment more intimate and charges something in you.

The little kisses he leaves on your face are a kind of sweet torture you’re not sure you can bare for any longer.

You gulp and flutter yours eyes open- not sure when you closed and gasp for a breath. “Oh my god, kiss me.”

Sky stills and you think you might have pushed something just before he angles himself in front of you again and presses his lips against yours.

Your close your eyes and lose yourself in the feeling.

Your hands travel up his check and rest on his shoulders before closing in by his collar bone and snaking behind his head to tangle themselves in his hair.

Sky keeps his arm on the wall but uses his other hand to tilt your head even higher, pushing himself against you as he kisses you deeper.

A loud cough has the two of you jumping away from each other and you can’t help feeling a little pissed that someone interrupted your moment.

There stands Time, a smirk and knowing look in his eye. “Pardon the interruption, but I believe I was tasked to bring Sky to Warrior for a consultation. That is.... unless you’re busy.”

Sky coughs and steps away from you. “No, I... I can go.”

You glare at Time, not at all subtle in your intentional message you’re trying to send.

Time holds back his snickers... barely. “Good. I’ll him know you’re on your way.”

Sky blushes at being caught and laughs a bit when he sees you. “We’ll continue later.”

You blink and only then feel a little shame at also being caught- or it shame for how much you enjoyed it.

You nod at Sky and watch him- his phantom touch still on you.

You collapse against the wall and sigh.

That was not what you were expecting.

Legend

Running.

You and Legend were running through the castle trying to lose the tail of the guards that have found out that you two were very much not supposed to be there. Your party clothes billowed behind you and your steps echoed through the mostly empty hallways, more of them thundering behind you as more guards joined the cause.

“This is the last time I follow you blindly, Link.” You hiss and nearly trip over yourself.

Legend spins with little to no trouble at all and grabs your shoulder, helping you get back onto your feet and throwing you in front of him.

“It’s not like I asked for this.” Legend hisses back to you and pushes you to keep running through the hallways.

You want to stop and breath and leave but you’re lost and Legend knows this place better than you do so you’re stuck with him if you want to survive and not get caught.

Without waring Legend pulls you into a sharp turn and closes a door you didn’t notice behind you only stopping at the last moment to not slam it and instead rest it gently, closing even the small gold threaded curtain over the little peep window. 

Around you is a somewhat closed off spiral stair case and another door in front of you that leads into another unknown area but you can hear people.

You’re still not safe but no one seems to have heard you come in just yet.

“This must be one of the servant stairwells.” Legend says as he pants, resting his hands on his knees. You had though that when Legend had first appeared next to you in his finery that he was very handsome. And even when he’s all disheveled and exhausted, you still find yourself appreciating how every curve and sharp angle is accentuated by the outfit.

But this isn’t the time for that.

“Can we get out through here?” You ask, leaning up against the wall. there’s not  a lot of space between you and Legend where you stand but you’re too tired to compute it at the moment.

“Not without getting seen by more people.” Legend sighs. “We’ll just wait for the guards to pass and then head out the other way.”

You nod and continue to pant, placing your hand over your heart as if that would stop it from beating out of your chest.

Legend takes a few more breaths and walks over to stand next to you and places his weight against the wall as well. He opens his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting it with a click and forcing you to duck down as well when you hear the guards that were chasing you just outside the door that hide you from their gaze.

You stop breathing entirely, leaning closer to Legend who places himself between you and door.

You wait.

They leave.

The two of you nearly collapse into each other when you hear them take their leave to continue their search for you somewhere else.

You both stand up again and Legend reaches for the door.

Someone begins coming down the stairs.

Your eyes widen, body ready to run out the door but you’re being pressed against the wall with Legend on top of you before you can think of moving a muscle. 

Legend presses his lips against yours and traps your body there with his own. He attempts to coax a response out of you as the steps continue to descend, his hand burring itself into your hair as the other pulls you closer by your hip.

Your eyes flutter close and your hands come up to cradle his face, kissing him back like you’ve been wanting to do the entire night.

Legend groans a little as he deepens the kiss and angles you closer to his body.

You begin running your hands all over him, trying to map out his curves and angles that you’ve eyeing the entire night with your hands.

Legend responds favorably and even bites your lip when you refuse to let him kiss you even deeper.

“UM!” A voice squeaks. “My apologies but uh... you can’t be here.”

You break away and Legend turns around to address the poor maid that had caught you two.

“Sorry.” He flushes and waves her away. “We’ll be on our way. We didn’t know.”

You swear you blush all the way to your feet and can’t even bring yourself to look the poor girl in the eye as you both leave.

Legend subtly looks around for anyone who might still looking for you even you both leave and you both calmly leave the stairwell and the maid and begin to make your way out of the castle.

You hand finds its way to your mouth, the phantom touch of his lips on yours still tingling in the present moment because of it.

“I’m sorry.” Legend blurts in the quiet moment, his face a deep red as he looks down. “I panicked... but that doesn’t make that ok. It was the heat of the moment but... I probably could have found another solution or maybe we could have just ran.”

You bite your lip and hold your hands behind your back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I just assaulted you-”

“You’re a good kisser-”

You both stop in your tracks and stare at each other wide eyed.

“What did you just say?” You speak at the same time.

You gulp and shake your head. ”I didn’t think you... If I didn’t want you to...Um...” You look away first and try to hide behind your hair. “I wanted to kiss you all night, so.... I’m not complaining.” 

“You- you did?”

You blush deeper and try to walk away from him as you talk, as if that would negate how he would still be able to hear you even now that you’re both outside. “For awhile now actually, but.... uh... you look very handsome like that, so the urge was stronger than usual.”

Legend doesn’t say anything for a while but you keep walking, trying to get away from the awkwardness Your friendship is going to change after this night and you can feel it. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.

It was a good kiss.

Footsteps begin thundering behind you and you turn around to see what’s got Legend in a panic before he tackles you to the ground- ruining your party clothes in the dirt before trapping your lips against his again.

He lifts himself off of you as he pants. “You can’t just say that and then leave.”

“I wasn’t trying-”

“You look gorgeous tonight, it was so hard to control myself.”  He kisses you again.

You blink and stare into his eyes when he lifts himself off of you for the second time, letting a moment of silence over you before you take a breath. “Kiss me again.”

He grins and leans down.

If this is the change to your relationship, let it be known that you’re certainly not complaining.

Time

You sigh and watch the sun set just beyond the mountains in the west.

Every bone in your body felt tired and sore and there was nothing else that you wanted to do. You thought that one more person wanted to talk to you today you were going to lose it.

Time comes to sit next to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. He leans over to look in your eyes before he nods to himself and shifts his weight so that he sits with his front to your side.

Gently he coaxes you to move around also and you follow his lead without much question.

As soon as you’re with your back to him, his hands comes to rest on your shoulder and begin to knead.

You almost groan with the immediate pleasure and relief it brings you but the others are still nearby and you don’t want to give them any ideas.

You have no idea how he does it but Link always seem to know what you need without you saying anything and even before you even know. 

You sigh and try to relax even further under his touch.

Time continues with his massage and travels all over your shoulders, upper back and neck.

Your eyes close and you lean back after a few minutes of this, right into Time’s lap. “Thank you.” You say and smile more genuinely toward him. “You didn’t have to but I feel better now.” 

“Good.” He says and plays with the hair that falls over his leg. “You looked tense.”

“Everything was sore and not happy with me.” You blinked your eyes open and look up into his. “That felt nice.”

“Well you’re welcome.” He smiles back.

You grin and sit up again much to the protest of the rest of your muscles. With a small shimmy, you turn around and hop up to place a little kiss on Time’s cheek before you lose your nerve. “Payment.”

You don’t know where your boldness comes from but you’re not so shameless as to kiss Time fully while the whole group is very much nearby.

Time stills completely before he stands up after you.

You attempt to walk away and go back to the group before he can say anything but he catches your hand and pulls you back with a spin, trapping you with an arm behind your back and your chest against his.

You blush at the close proximity and try to pull away. “Time, the boys-”

Time lets go of the hand behind your back to free that up but he instead rests his hands on your waist and pulls you flush against him. “What about them? I believe that if that was the payment that you’re a little short on the change.”

He’s smirking when he says this. 

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours. “If you’re ok with it that is.”

You gulp and stare at him wide eyed. You bite your lip in thought and you can see Time glance down at the subtle movement.

You grin and push yourself into him, closing the distance between you two with more vigor than either of you expected. The force pushes Time back a step and you throw your arms around him to stabilize yourself. 

He kisses you back with as much passion as you want to believe he’s been holding back. You start to crumble from under him and he follows you down when your knees fail you, bending over to keep kissing you, to kiss you deeper and to pull you closer even if you’re bent in half at this point.

You don’t care. 

Together, you lose yourselves in each other and try to memories each factor of him.

The broadness of his chest, the way his toned arms hold you, the way his lips move against you and your skin and how he moves from your lips to your neck-

“Oh for crying out loud-  GET A ROOM!” Legend yells from across the camp and you pull away from time in shock.

Time calmly looks over and pulls you back on to your feet again. “Do you see one?”

“Time.” You whisper yell and smack his arm a little, your blush on your face clear as day even as the sun sets beyond the horizon.

He smirks and turns back to you, capturing one more kiss from you before he steps away with a low and frankly dangerous kind of chuckle. “Later.”

“Later?” You looks after him and cover you lips with your finger tips. “What do you mean by later?”

Time doesn’t turn around to answer you ad you don’t know if you’re excited for it or too embarrassed at the blatant wanton behavior of yours to even think beyond anything than going to bed and starting the next day.

Who are you kidding?

How are you going to sleep when time has frankly put your mind on over drive that that?

It’s going to be a long night.

Part 3

[miyagihawk]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062



The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. 

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, 

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, 

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo. 

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets. 

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much. 

He always held it down. 

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan. 

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to. 

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it. 

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons. 

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler. 

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours. 

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short. 

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family. 

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family. 

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again. 

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down. 

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized. 

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders. 

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now. 

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips. 

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead. 

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body. 

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly. 

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?” 

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior. 

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling. 

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously. 

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin. 

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here. 

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends. 

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date. 

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did. 

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home. 

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him. 

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.” 

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine. 

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue. 

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away. 

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution. 

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate. 

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.” 

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t. 

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that. 

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that. 

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him. 

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor. 

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy. 

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon. 

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here. 

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I  was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip. 

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy. 

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious. 

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+  +  +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

 “Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies. 

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely. 

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

 +  + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past. 

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone. 

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe. 

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible. 

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible. 

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all. 

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right?  At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom. 

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters. 

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror. 

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels. 

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

 She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades. 

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight. 

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.  

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use. 

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

 She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

 At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes. 

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted.  Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.  

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad. 

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act. 

 It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her. 

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier.  The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI. 

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk. 

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing. 

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

 When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof. 

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.  

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe ,  @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 ,  @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander@nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics@kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing​ @everythingiloveandcherish @shinykoalacat​ @dragongirl31 @kaitlynisinfinite​ @alwaysclassyeagle

[mammonshuman92]

- It Takes Two -

(Mammon x GN!MC)

Genre: angst/hurt/comfort

WARNINGS: alcohol, drunkenness, cheating, **

** There is a moment where a character is drunk, and someone makes moves on them, character is too drunk to realize it’s not who they thought it was. Groping and making out, no penetration; character doesn’t consider is SA. I apologize if it is offensive.

Ya better hurry up, or we’re gonna be late!” Mammon was pulling you by the hand down the hallway to your first class of the day.

“I wasn’t the one who overslept because they kept saying “just lay with me for 5 more minutes.”“ You said, giving your best impression of him.

You’d become best friends rather quickly after your arrival in the Devildom, practically becoming attached at the hip instantly. It didn’t take long for that light, warm feeling to invade your heart. Now you’d been dating for a few months and had become even more inseparable.

“Details, details!” He responded, laughing.

The two of you came barreling through the door with only seconds to spare before the bell rang; hand-in-hand, laughing like fools.

You took your seats across the room from each other, being the professors current punishment for Mammon talking to you during class.

As you sat down you felt eyes on you and looked up.

A few succubi were not so casually looking at you and whispering.

It wasn’t uncommon though. I mean, you are a human in the Devildom. You also live with the 7 rulers of the underworld. You’d gotten quite used to people whispering about you. You decided to ignore them, and pay attention to class. Whatever they were whispering about was surely nothing you hadn’t already heard circulating throughout the gossip mill.

Throughout the day, you noticed the same group of succubi whispering and giving you looks. They even giggled a couple times. You tried your best to keep your cool, but it had been going on all day and it was really getting under your skin.

What is so damn funny? You thought to yourself.

The final bell rang and you couldn’t be happier. Now you got to put the day behind you and go home with Mammon. Tonight is movie night. Cuddling and eating junk food is just what you need after a day like today.

You rushed to the usual spot where you meet Mammon. Seeing his face would definitely make you feel better right now, but he wasn’t there yet. 

He must have gotten hung up in class or something.

You leaned against the wall, pulled out your D.D.D. and started surfing Deviltube to pass the time. You were so engrossed in your video that you barely noticed that same group of succubi walk past.

Until they made sure you noticed them, that is.

One girl bumped into you on purpose, sending your D.D.D. to the concrete, via crash-landing.

“Stupid human.” She sneered.

You rolled your eyes and bent down to pick up your D.D.D. It’s nothing you haven’t heard, quite a bit actually, since coming to the Devildom. She’d have to try a lot harder than that.

When you stood back up, the succubus in question was standing in front of you, arms crossed with a smug grin.

“Do you think you’re special?” She asked, looking you up and down. You didn’t respond and resumed your scrolling through Deviltube. Ignoring her made her mad.

“As soon as he gets tired of you, he’ll move on to the next one.”

Excuse me? 

“I don’t think MY relationship is any of your concern.” You said sweetly, slapping on your best fake smile. You looked around them, desperate to see Mammon walking up, but he wasn’t there.

Where is he? 

She was practically laughing in your face. 

“He made me feel special too.” Her words, full of venom as they left her lips, triggered something in your brain.

Flashbacks of your first day in the Devildom came rushing back. Specifically what Satan had said after Mammon made his grand entrance.

“Whenever he takes a liking to someone, they suddenly find themselves awash in money. But from what I hear, if he decides to break it off with someone, that wealth evaporates. They’re left without a Grimm to their name.”

The memory made your chest feel heavy. 

Could that pertain to people as well? They said a pure soul is like a shiny gem. What if..

“Everything he’s said to you, he probably already said to me.” She spat.

Your head was spinning, a knot forming in your throat. Her earlier words replaying in your mind.

“As soon as he gets tired of you, he’ll move on to the next one.”

What if..? No.. He wouldn’t do that...would he?

You quickly got so lost in thought as anxiety started to take root, plaguing you with ‘what ifs’ and hypotheticals, that you almost didn’t notice when someone stepped between you and the succubus. Putting a hand on either side of your face, he tilted your head up to look at him. Irises the color of tropical waters, instantly melt away your anxiety, calming the angry sea inside you.

“Let’s go home.” He whispered with a smile. His voice was soft, but you could see the anger in his eyes. He slung an arm around your shoulders and turned to start walking toward the House of Lamentation.

“We weren’t done talking.” She said vindictively.

“Don’t ya have anythin’ better to do?” Mammon snarled, glaring at the succubus.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, leaving with her friends.

By the immense tension you could feel between them, you could tell that they had indeed been together at some point.

The walk home was quiet, which left you with ample time for your thoughts to run wild. 

Did she know him like you do? His little habits and his favorite things? 

Did she stick up for him when his brothers were dogging on him? Or afterward when he was down, did she try her best to drown out their hateful words with affirmations of love?

Did she play with his hair while he laid on her stomach, arms wrapped tight around her middle after he loved her? Hold her in his lap as he rubbed soothing circles on her back when she was sad? Whisper sweet nothings to her when he thought she was asleep?

...Did he love her?

-

“Whoa! Did ya see that, MC?!”

The two of you were curled up on the couch in Mammon’s room, watching a movie on his projector, just like you did every week.

Did they do movie night?

It shouldn’t be bothering you. Of course he’s had other partners. He’s been alive for thousands of years.

And you’ve had other partners. So what? No biggie. That wasn’t the issue.

The thought of him saying the same things, doing the same things with someone else...loving someone else, is what bothered you. It hurt to think that maybe you really weren’t that special; another weak, insignificant human, just like all the rest.

But the things she said kept playing on a loop in your head.

“As soon as he gets tired of you, he’ll move on to the next one.”

“He made me feel special too.”

Could she be right?

“Babe, are ya okay?” He had paused the movie and was now staring at you expectantly.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m fine.” He saw through it quickly.

“Ya know, you’re not good at lyin’. What’s wrong? If ya don’t like the movie we can watch someth-”

“That girl earlier, at RAD? Is she your ex?” You didn’t want to bring it up, but you had to know before your thoughts could torment you further.

His face fell and he sighed heavily. “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna say somethin’..”

You remained quiet, watching his face, waiting for him to begin talking.

“We were together a long, long, time ago. Nothin’ serious. I broke it off when I realized she was only around for what she could get outta me. She didn’t take it too well.” He explained, his expression turning sour. “She had a different story, huh?”

“She didn’t say much really, except once you get tired of me you’ll move onto the next one. That I’m nothing special because everything you say to me you’ve probably said to her.” You said, keeping your eyes down as you fidget with the hem on your shirt.

He started laughing.

Your head snapped up, looking at him in shock.

“What’s so funny, Mammon?” You asked, getting a little irritated by his reaction. He stopped laughing when he looked at you and realized you were serious.

“Ya don’t actually believe her, do ya?” He scoffed, getting offended.

“No? I don’t know..” You replied, not meeting his gaze. Of course you wanted to believe him, but you already felt like you weren’t good enough for him, and that succubi’s words just watered the seeds of insecurity in your brain and helped them flourish.

You had always been the opposite of his brothers. You always believed Mammon, even when everyone else was against him. You were always on his side. Ready to stick up for him no matter what. To hear you now, was like a slap in the face.

Mammon’s face distorted in pain. And anger.

“What? Whaddya mean ya don’t know?” His voice was soft, “Ya don’t trust me?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“Mammon, that’s-”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. A few bitter words from some random demon and now my words mean nothin’. “ He jumped up from the couch, making a beeline for the door.

“What about the last few months, huh? After all the time we spent together you think I’d do somethin’ like that to ya?” His voice cracked on the last sentence. He paused; hand on the knob as he stared at the door. You heard a small sniffle as his other hand came up to angrily wipe his face.

“I thought ya knew me better than anyone.” His voice was barely audible, but you could hear the hurt. He felt betrayed.

And with that he left, slamming the door behind him.

When he didn’t come back after an hour and wouldn’t answer your calls, you grabbed a few things and headed to your room. You still felt uneasy about the whole “his ex confronting you” thing and after what had just happened, you just wanted to be alone. 

Your bed seemed huge and your room felt odd. It’s not like you didn’t spend time in there anymore, you just didn’t usually do so alone. The silence was deafening.

I shouldn't have doubted him. He used to try and hide his feelings, although he was bad at it. But since we got together, he doesn’t hide how he feels about us to anyone.

You thought of all the times his cheeks had flushed scarlet when you caught him staring at you. How he sits and endures scary movies because they’re your favorite. The way he will randomly bring you your favorite snacks or other little gifts because he was thinking about you. Relentlessly tickling you just to hear your bright, uninhibited laughter. That even in his sleep, he has to be constantly touching some part of you, or he gets restless. 

You slowly drifted off to sleep, with tears staining your cheeks.

-

“Have you seen Mammon?” 

He never came looking for you last night and he wasn’t at breakfast. He even skipped RAD.

Asmo shook his head, “Not since yesterday. Did something happen?”

You decided to fill him in with all the details. He is the Avatar of Lust after all, so surely he could give you some advice regarding love.

He gasped dramatically, “No she didn’t! What a tart!”

“I know I shouldn’t have doubted him. He’s never given me a reason to, but I don’t know. She just got in my head, I guess. Poked at some insecurities.” You explained. “I haven’t seen him since he stormed off.”

“He won’t pout for long, he never does.”

“It’s more than just pouting. I hurt him just like everyone else. He feels betrayed.” You said, voice small.

You just wanted to pepper his face with kisses and profusely apologize for ever doubting him. Why did you ever let some random succubus get to you like that? To make your trust for Mammon falter, even slightly. Did you honestly believe he would toss you aside after he got what he could out of you? Really? 

Satan said it too though, in the beginning. That when you’re with him you find yourself drowning in gifts and the like, but once he outgrows you, you’re left with nothing. That’s the Greed.

You refuse to accept it though.

You know Mammon, better than anyone. He has changed so much since you came here. He’s not the same demon he used to be. He is more than just his sin.

“When he is ready, he’ll come back. He always does.” Asmo said, placing a hand on your shoulder, giving you a warm smile.

“Now, let’s go and change! You are depressing me and it’s ruining my skin. We are going out tonight!” He was practically vibrating with excitement. You, not so much.

“Ugh, no way Asmo. I’m not in a party mood.”

“Nonsense! It’s exactly what you need. We will have some drinks and dance and you’ll feel better. You’ll see.”

You relented, knowing that once Asmo got his mind set on something like this, there was no getting out of it. Maybe a few drinks really would make you feel better.

-

“Trouble in paradise?” She said, motioning to the drink in his hand.

His clothes were dishevelled, his hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He looked like he’d been through the wringer. Felt like it too. He’d been in the private lounge at the club for a little while now, nursing drink after drink, attempting to drown his sorrows.

“Go away.” He growled, turning his attention back to his drink.

“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?” She asked innocently.

“Nah, but it is a good way to greet a snake.”

“Ouch.” She put a hand over her heart, feigning hurt feelings.

“Haven’t ya caused enough problems? Leave me alone.”

She scoffed, plopping down onto the couch next to him.  “Oh, come on Mammon. You’re this hung up over a human?”

“Don’t talk about MC.” He snarled. In one big gulp, he swallowed the remainder of his drink. No matter what kind of situation the two of you were in, he wouldn’t let someone, anyone, say anything cross about you. At all.

“Oh, come on. You can’t seriously say you don’t miss being with me. A demon.” She leaned in close, her lips next to his ear, “Not nearly as fragile as a human. You can be as rough as you want..” She purred.

He jumped up from where he’d been sitting, attempting to get away from the succubus. “Get the fuc- Whoa.” He slurred, staggering slightly before quickly sitting back down, head lolling back to rest on the back of the couch. His vision was pretty blurry; the room spinning. He closed his eyes, hoping it’d help. 

Even in his deeply inebriated state, you were all that was on his mind. The feel of your hand running through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. The warmth of your body pressed against his, your lips; soft and delicate like rose petals, leaving small kisses across his face before finally meeting his lips. The bubbly sound of your laughter, beautiful like music. The way your eyes shine every time you see him, even if he only left your side for a tiny moment. 

After the fight you had and leaving the way he did, and now being away from you a whole day, not hearing your voice, feeling your touch, he was ready to go crazy. And although he did sneak back into the house after he was sure everyone was asleep, and slept in the backseat of his car so no one would find him, it wasn’t the same as sleeping next to you. He missed you.

But, it was more than that. He felt so incredibly stupid for reacting the way he had. If he were in your situation, and felt how you did, he would’ve had questions too. You love him, and all you wanted was a little reassurance that he in fact does love you. Man, does he love you. More than he’s ever loved anyone or anything.

With the attention span of a tuna sandwich, mixed with the levels of alcohol in his system, and being so deep in his thoughts of you, he hadn’t noticed the sudden shift of weight in his lap.

One hand found its way to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair. The other hand resting on his chest, slowly moving down his stomach, intently feeling every muscle. His mouth opened slightly, a breathy sigh escaping. He had missed you so much, your touch lighting his skin ablaze, craving you more and more.

Your hand moved lower, earnestly caressing his growing stiffness. Your lips crashed into his suddenly; hungrily, your tongue brushing his bottom lip. His hands moved up your thighs before firmly gripping your hips, grinding you against him.

Small alarm bells were going off in his head, something didn’t seem right. You didn’t giggle like you always do when he grabs your hips. Your kisses seemed sloppier than usual too.

He tried opening his eyes, blinking lazily several times. The room was still swirling around in his drunkenness, making it nearly impossible to focus.

Your hand moved to his pants, undoing the button and zipper. He removed a hand from your hip and grabbed your wrist, but didn’t attempt to move your hand from his swollen boxers. As he was about to break the kiss and suggest heading home and picking up with this make up where you left off, he heard a voice nearby.

“What the hell?!” They shrieked. 

Asmo?

“Mammon..?” You barely choked out.

That was your voice. He’d recognize it anywhere; the musical sound gently floating into his ears as it always did. But you sounded like you were crying..

And it didn’t come from the figure straddling his lap. How is that possible? He’s been making out with you, getting pretty heated actually, for the last several minutes.

He broke the kiss with you, confusedly turning to his left and blinking several times until his surroundings started to come into focus.

There you stood in the doorway of the private lounge with Asmo next to you, your eyes wide as s tears streamed down your cheeks, gaping at him in horror.

The alarm bells that had been going off, the red flags popping up trying to warn him that something wasn’t quite right, were about to become very clear.

- part two coming soon! -

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.V)

Emperor Vacation! Pog! Remember to drink water today lovely’s!

also if you squint hard enough you might see me simping for C!Philza.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death

   The flight back to your village was long, it wasn't that you were in bad company, just after sitting so long you were extremely stiff. You could only shift positions so much before your butt, and legs were numb. So when Phil had mentioned seeing land, you were more than glad it was over.

  Phil was right about having a extra cloak on too, the wind was horrible, not to mention the altitude you flew at was already freezing. Phil and Techno were smart on leaving when we did though as well. By the time we reached the village it was easily past noon. You were kind of giddy on showing Phil around your village. On the way up you and him discussed a bit about it, and your heritage. He was very open and interested when you explained how everything came to where it was today. Along with going home, you were also more excited to see and hug your parents. You could only imagine what your father would say about you working for a ruler.

   When Phil and techno landed it was near the village, but also in a bit of a walking distance. Phil had made wind that he didn't want to land too close, and risk scaring anyone. After Phil had helped you out of the plane, all of you were stretching out. Especially Philza, he had made comments on how the plane's only down side was the confined space for his wings. When he let his wings span out you were awe struck. There were massive, easily wide enough to lift himself off the ground. The wings, although made for use, were oh so elegant. When Phil stretched you could see his figure better now. his wings spanning out wide behind him into the air, almost like a bird preparing flight. He wasn't in his normal Robes, instead he exchanged them for a simple black shirt that clung to his form. The arms were cut off, allowing you so see his fit arms. this didn't surprise you, the sword Phil always carried looked like it had a bit of weight to it. For being a father, Phil was very fit. Once his stretching was finished he took a light cloak from the plane and precisely wrapped it around his shoulders, minding his wings.

   Well you two worked the numbness away techno had approached. He also was stretching. But simultaneously shedding a few of his layers. He casually tossed the cloaks and capes into your seat of Phil's plane. You did shed a few layers like Phil, but not as many as Tech.

   "Are you sure you don't want something to block the sun? Sun burns suck" you said to techno. He unbuttoned the top two buttons to his shirt, before pulling his main braid out, changing the style for his ponytail.

   "If I wear to many I might get heat stroke" He said simply, watching you. Without his mask he wasn't as menacing, but you definitely weren't used to seeing his face. you gazed at him with a perplexed look. 

   "Heat stroke?" You knew what it was, but you were a little confused. He chuckled lightly as Phil looked up to you two.

   "My body runs hotter, princess" he crossed his arms, relaxing into his stance. You flushed at his words again. Glancing away to avoid his eye contact. ’fuckin’ hell there he goes again’ His tone was casual, but he was obviously still in his teasing mood.

   "Since Tech is part Piglin his body is always warmer than you or I, that's why sometimes he just walks around in the snow without freezin'" You looked up to Phil and nodded. It made sense, you will admit, sometimes you forget that techno isn't fully human. When you think of Piglins you usually think of a gold obsessed beast. But Techno carried himself with elegance and pride. Yes he adorned himself in gold, but that was part of who he was. He had a right to be proud of it.

   You started towards your village with the two. As if a unsaid agreement occurred they made you walk between them, walking like your own personal body guards. Techno strolled on your right well Phil kept close on your left. When you saw the children playing outside you smiled brightly. You missed this. The sound of children's laughter carried around like ringing bells. Sweet and ever so innocent.

    As you walked into town. Some of the older kids ran up to hug you, jumping into your arms without hesitation. You without a thought picked them up and spun them about in your arms. These were your friends. Your community was small so everyone was close. Phil and techno respected this and just quietly stepped aside to give you the moment. Soon some of the other towns people had stepped out to see what all the commotion was about. Your mother included.

   When she saw you her eyes lit up with love. She couldn't help but grab her skirt and run to you. Hugging you tightly to her chest, almost knocking you off your feet. Her tears of joy could be felt on your shoulder as you held her tight. Your nose buried into her neck, you missed this. You missed her. You missed the village. Everything just made you beyond happy at this moment. everywhere you looked there were smiles, wide and contagious. Soon you herd a quiet voice. Your father. When you looked up it was your turn to tear. he was hobbling over to you, his arms wide. You smiled widely hugging him tightly, but carefully. You didn't want to hurt him.

   "I did it.. I did it- I did it!" You were so ecstatic. Your father put his hand on the back of your head gently well he hugged you. You were his little girl, and he was beaming with pride for you. 

   "I'm so proud of you.." He was tearing. He was proud of you. So very proud of you. He was even happier to see you back home safely too. He pulled back, taking a moment to take you in, you looked a tad different from your trip. not in a bad way, just a little different. Your fathers eyes moved from you, to Techno and Phil. "I assume these two are with you?" Your father asked. He was mostly summing Tp techno, you assumed because he was basically a year older than you. Phil sent your father a kind smile and nodded.

   "Oh! Mhm! Sorry, I forgot to introduce them. This is Philza, and his Imperial Highness Technoblade." Your fathers eyes widened. When he realize was in the presence of royalty, he tried to go to his knee to bow. Techno quickly grabbed his arms in turn. Sopping him from doing so.

   "Please.. (y/n) told us of your pain. I couldn't ask formalities from you, sir" your father was speechless. He could only look at Techno with awe. Techno helped him stand properly. Only letting him go when he safely had himself steadied. Your mother chimed in.

   "Would you like something to eat or drink perhaps?" She asked looking between your father, Phil and Techno.

   After hearing the young emperor was in your house, the village was buzzing around trying to tidy up a little. Nestled inside your house however Techno and Phil were eating. You had ate, but also were packing a few more possessions that you held dear to you.

   You knew that after today you would start your full time job as a blacksmith. In the beginning you were nervous. Everything you herd about there kingdom was terrifying. But after seeing who is in control you actually have felt very at ease with them. Wilbur was ever so kind, Phil treated you like an additional child of his, and Techno was something all in himself. You did find yourself thinking back to how he has taken up the nickname 'princess' for you. It made you blush obviously, but it was just how he said it that made you want to hear it again, and again. He could be so brooding and quite. But also find a way to joke and tease. Not only that, but just from what had happened outside your home. He didn't want your father hurting himself on his own account. It was the little things like that, that somehow just made your heart maybe skip a little faster. 

   Well you pondered Techno and his family, you didn't realize that he was leaning on your door way until he spoke up.

   "Having troubles packing?" He asked. You couldn't help but jump. Turning to face him. His eyes were relaxed, along with his stance. He was just hanging about basically.

   "Sorta" you said. Glancing him over. He slowly walked into your room and looked about curiously. Mentally you were thankful you cleaned before you left. Your room was small, your bed shoved against the wall, navy blankets resting on top of the mattress. Next to the bed there was a nightstand with the candle still half melted from the last use. Your dresser was across your bed, old and worn, it had been your grandmothers previously. Next to that was a little desk you and your dad had built. Your room wasn't much, but you could tell somehow techno didn't mind. "Its hard in a way..." He looked up at you. His eyes dancing between yours.

   "How so?" He questioned as you sat on your bed. He took the que and leaned on your dresser. Respecting your space. He knew he wasn't familiar to you like Wilbur or phil. He did want to get to know you more, but he also didn't want to force you to befriend him.

   "Well... I mean I've grown up here. All my life and memories are here... I know I can make more at the palace with you and your family." You smiled softly. "Wilbur already wants to teach me how to ice skate..." Techno smiled a little.

   "I bet you'll fall" he mused. You laughed a bit. smiling down to the boards under your feet. 

   "I probably will.” you were smiling gently, It’s the little actions like this that made you happy to see the family for what they were. Rather then what the rumors had painted them as. “I dunno, I know I want to work for you. I know my parents will appreciate the money and-" at this Techno’s brow furrowed slightly before he cut you off.

   "(Y/n) are you sure your doing this for yourself. Or for your parents?" The question took you aback briefly. Earning a slight head tilt. Techno pressed his lips, thinking of how to continue. "Are you working for me to make your parents happy. Or are you working because you will be happy?" You could only look at him with a blank look. He had a point there. "If your working to make your parents happy, you will be miserable the whole time your with us" He was watching your expression. Trying to read it for how you felt. You were kind of stumped. Techno had stepped closer. His boots were in front of yours. When you looked up he was right there. "I don't want to see you miserable well working" his gaze was gentle. He wasn't talking as a ruler, but rather as a friend. you understood too. If your hearts not in it, your work will never be as good. You paused a bit.

   "I do want to work for you. Its.. what my heart is telling-" again he cut you off, leaving your mouth agape with the words of your sentence lingering.

   "Your heart is a organ, it cant tell you what it wants" ok you wanted to hit him. He knew what you meant.

   "I mean... my consciousness is telling me to go with you and Phil. I really like your guy's company. Your brother Wilbur Is a lot of fun too." You shrugged and looked down a bit. Techno moved again and slowly sat beside you, almost hesitant like he wasn't sure if he could. When he sat the bed dipped quite a bit. Not that he could help it. He was a built man. "Maybe its just telling me to go because your family is the closest thing I've had to genuine friends..." Techno's face contorted into a little confusion. Getting a 'heh?' Out of him.

   "Don't tell me you've never had friends, princess" he said looking down at you.

   You smiled a little. "I've had friends... but usually there years younger than me. Like four or five. Maybe seven. I mean friends closer to my age like you and Wilbur" techno hummed a bit. His cheeks a very faint pink.

   "So you think of me as a friend now" his brow raised in question. his gaze was curious. not swaying to disgust, nor pure joy.

   “I mean, if I can count you as one...” You said looking up to him. If someone would have walked in at this moment, they would have thought they disturbed a moment between the two teens. Techno was tall, but that didn't stop his head from lingering down by yours. Your Voice was softer almost unsure now. Techno didn't speak at first, his eyes only lingering your face. soon he hummed in response, standing slowly.

      “Mmn... I mean. I guess you could.” his cheeks were tinted the faintest pink as he moved his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat. “yeah, yeah... I suppose were friends”

   When you were fully packed you walked out from your room, Techno in tow. Your fathers eyes saw your form and lingered on the two of you. Your father wasn't born yesterday, something inside him knew that there was unspoken chemistry between Techno and you. He didn't mind that though. Well, ok maybe he did. You were his daughter after all. 

   “do you have everything you need?” your father asked, his tone softer when addressing you.

   You nodded, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “I believe so, If not ill just have to come back” You smiled gently. Your father returned the smile. Phil looked up to Techno who was standing behind you, his arm’s crossed as he leaned on your door frame.

   “We should probably leave soon if we want to make it to the Mansion by night fall, Techno” Techno offered a nod to his father. when looking at Phil he couldn't help notice how your fathered watched him. Techno did understand though, it was probably unnerving to know he would be sending his young daughter several miles away with a teenage boy. Of course Phil was present, but that was minor. Techno simply just returned a look to your father, not trying to be hostile, nor too passive. After all techno did have a name to keep up.

   Your small group slowly moved outside to the street. you didn't notice, but your father had pulled Techno aside well you went with your mother and Phil. You hugged your mother tightly. wanting to savor the feeling of her hug. knowing it would be quite a while before you got another one.

   “Promise me you’ll be safe (y/n)...” she said softly. you nodded slowly, nuzzling into her neck. you could feel the tears threatening to spill. You knew the goodbye wasn't forever, but that still didn't lessen the slight sadness. This was a new chapter in your life. you couldn't live your life on a single page. it was time to move on and see what else awaited in your story. when the two of you pulled away, your mother saw your tears and wiped your eyes gently. “Chin up, you’ll make a lovely smith, honey” you smiled softly, taking deep breaths to calm your tears. Soon Techno had returned back to Phil’s side after his talk with your father. You turned towards the two of them together and smiled at them. Techno offered you a nod well Phil smiled back at you.

   “I'm going to miss you runnin’ around that forge” Your father said, he also had a few tears welled up in his eyes. “You better bust your butt down there and show em’ what your made of” You nodded at him, taking his words of courage to heart.

   You hugged him tightly. Him returning the tight hug. “Ill miss you...” you muttered to him. keeping your face hidden in his neck. Your dad was your grounder, he was along your side the whole way. Starting the new chapter without him was hard, but you knew it was necessary. “I love you...”

   “I love you too... Be safe for us...” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

   By the time you reached France's countryside it was night already. Well in flight you had rested yourself on the side of your seat. Watching the ground fly past with incredible speed. Phil kept a keen eye on you to make sure you didn't fall. The last thing he wanted to do was have to turn around and explain to your parents that you fell to your death.

   Techno and Phil made wind of wanting to find somewhere to set up camp for the night. Knowing they both shouldn't fly well tired. When they saw the mansion up ahead however, they lost there ideal for a camp. Instead they landed nearby and prepared themselves to enter. Rambling off about where to enter. You were quite unsure about this, after all this was someone’s home. As they went on about a plan you looked the mansion over. It was rather massive to be honest. The mansion, although big, was ever so detailed and beautiful. The owners took amazing care of the structure. Well your eyes scanned the side, you saw movement from one of the windows. this made you realized that there were things inside. they planned to raid a mansion that someone lived in. Your eyes wondered for more movement and that's when you saw it. A Pillager. You felt rage take hold of your chest.

   "What are we doing here." Your voice was harsh, this caught Phil off guard. He wasn't used to hearing you take up such a tone. Phil and Techno swapped quick glances. Pondering if they should tell you about there plan. Ultimately Techno figured you should be included. Seeing that if this raid wad successful, your first task would be presented.

   "Do you know what Pillagers are?" Techno inquired. He knew you did, but he meant his question beyond face value. He was quizzing to see if you where aware of their history.

   "Yeah, heartless creatures that kill for fun" You hissed, not wanting to be near the mansion anymore. Techno watched your eyes. He could see the hate swirling within. To him this was intriguing to see you angry. Usually you were more quiet and docile.

   "Pillagers are a branch of Illagers..” Techno started slowly “The Illagers were a old type of Cult that was formed for the sole purpose of Black Magic" His tone was slow and calculated, he wasn't talking down to you, rather just simply explaining. "They are known for dealing with Alchemy, and Witchcraft" his eyes glinted with something that you couldn't quite put your finger on. "They even have been Rumored to deal with Necromancy" You were a little confused now.

   "What's Necromancy?" You inquired, your hate was leaving and slowly replacing with curiosity. Simultaneously, you didn't understand where this was leading.

   "The ability to raise the dead." You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words. You sent glances between the two of them. that's ridiculous, no one can raise the dead, it was impossible. Once you were dead, you were dead. You started getting uncomfortable with the way the conversation was leading. "It is rumored they have a Item that can bring those who have died back" Techno’s eyes never left yours.

   "That's.. That's impossible..." You said quietly, watching Techno intently. His eyes glinted again, you weren't familiar with his side of him so it raised alarm within you. This wasn't the Techno that sat with you in your room. Nor the one that asked your father not to bow. This side of him was different, almost more daring, and challenging.

   "Oh, but is it?" He paused briefly, His voice rose up now. Taking a tone of greatness. Turning to face the mansion. Soon expanding on his thought. "You see (y/n), sometimes rumors are so far  fetched... That they just have to be real." You glanced to Phil who only watched Techno like you. "The item they have, rather a totem actually... Can indeed bring the dead back. But it has to be on the person upon there death. You cannot bring someone who is long gone, back" he said simply.

   "How do you?..." you struggled to find your voice. “How do you know it’s true?” you asked no longer liking his tone. He turned back to face you, his emerald earring catching the moon light.

   "Because I have tested it" He said, looking into your eyes. Once he saw your eyes and the emotion that swirled within them he paused. He swallowed thickly, pondering his thoughts briefly. "I want you to stay back with the planes..." His tone had softened, it was the same one he used to address his father nights ago. "You'll be safe with them..." He glanced away, no longer able to keep your gaze.

   "We'll be back soon, I promise" Phil said, sending you a reassuring smile. the two of them turned and headed towards the entrance. there swords drawn, ready to counter what was inside.

   You had been waiting for a while now. The sound of the forest was peaceful. You had missed the frogs croaking, well the crickets chirped a endless harmony. In the artic this wasn't a luxury, the land was so snow covered that not many bugs resided, if any. The only sound you could hear was a low whistle, or hum, which was only the wind really. The temperature had dropped well you sat waiting, causing you to rub your arms for warmth. You looked down into the cockpit looking for one of the cloaks left behind. You felt one of them and pulled it onto your shoulders, securing the clasps. The feeling of the fabric quickly warmed your arms. You laid your head back, pondering the look that Techno had in his explanation. The look he had was hard to explain, it’s almost like he wasn't himself. Like he had something else within him, fueling him, talking to him. You didn't know Techno deeply, but you had seen him for a few weeks now, his attitude then compared to now was different. It was unnerving to say the least.

   Well pondering and listening to the casual hum of the woods, something caught your ear. You pushed yourself up so you were sitting. You could plain as day hear crying. But not just any crying, it was a Childs. You slowly climbed down from the cockpit. You know they told you to stay put, but you also couldn't just listen to a child cry. Your hand fell to the sword that hung on your hip. Slowly you started your descend into the woods, determined to find the source.

   The woods were thick. Everywhere you looked there was a branch ready to swat at your head. Minding the branches, you were able to spot the small crying toddler. He was curled up tightly, his knees to his chest as he wept. He had dirt on him, his face stained with tears and mud. His red and white shirt was torn to hell. At the sight of him your heart hurt. He saw you and without hesitation he reached up, wanting you to pick him up.

   "H-hey.. Shh.. sh.. your alright.. your safe.." Your tone was gentle as you carefully picked him up. Subconsciously your body started swaying without a spare thought. The boy did slowly quiet down. You glanced around and  tucked the boy within the cloak next to you, wanting to keep him warm. You needed to find Techno and Phil, like. Right now. "I'm gonna h-help you ok bud?.." you could feel him nod his head against you. Gripping to your clothes tightly.

   You tried to hurry back to the mansion, but luckily that wasn't hard to find due to the fact it was on fire. Wait why was it on fire. You now broke into a run, fearing that Phil and Techno were caught within it. But no, of course not. They were simply in front of the burning mass, watching the once beautiful mansion turn to ash.

   "What the hell happened here?..." You drifted off as your eyes scanned the flames with wide shock. Phil turned to you and smiled.

   "Oh there you are (y/n)- whatcha' got there?" He tilted his head seeing the bump underneath the cloak. Techno turned as well, blushing faintly when he saw you.

   You stared up at the giant fire well approaching them. "I uh.. found him.." you pried your eyes from the train wreck in front of you, still not able to wrap your mind around this.

   "What did you find?..." Techno asked trying to see beneath your cloak, that was actually his. But he didn't want to bring that up yet, finding you within it quite adorable.

   You moved the cloak to show the toddler, Phil's wings puffed out a bit when he saw the child in your arms. Both of their eyes widening. "I wanted to bring him back to you... He was alone when I found him and I've never taken care of a toddler so..." You slowly handed the child to Phil. He didn't fuss much with being handed off. Instead he just buried his head in Phil's neck. As if on instinct he checked the child to make sure he was ok, no cuts, or bruising "I couldn't leave him out there..." you said chewing your lip. Phil only kept his eyes on the child. Pondering.

   "No of course not.." Phil said slowly, looking down to the child. Rubbing his back. "Hey buddy.. do you have a name?.." Techno and you watched curiously. The toddler nodded. Sitting up to wipe his big round blue eyes.

   "I'm Thomas.." His voice was rough, showing he had been crying a while.

   "Its nice to meet you Thomas.. I'm Philza, and this is Technoblade, over here is (y/n). How old are you?" Phil asked slowly. Just like he would with his own boys. Tommy held up two tiny fingers, showing how old he was. "Your two? Wow your a big man, ya?" Tommy slowly nodded. "Do you know where your mom or dad is?" The boy shook his head and broke into a large sob. "Sshh.. don't worry.. we'll find them ok?" The small boy nodded through his cries, gripping to Phil.

   After finding Tommy we checked every nearby village we could think of, but no one claimed the poor child. The longer he was with us, Phil started to grow very attached to the boy. Techno wasn't very surprised with this of course, and neither were you quite honestly. You knew he had adopted Techno on a whim from what Wilbur explained. That's why Phil popped into your brain when you found Tommy.

   We ultimately decided to head home with Tommy. None of the villages we searched seemed to recognize tommy, so Phil figured it was the universe telling him that he has another child. Phil kept him on his lap most of the trip. Occasionally handing him to you or letting him ride with Techno, to whom your surprise, seemed to have a soft spot for children. Tommy found a lot of joy out of being in the plane with you three. You would bounce him on your lap when he was under your watch, letting him stretch out in joy. His little giggles rang out loud, bringing smiles to Phil's face. You did pull him into your arms securely when you reached the artic air however, mostly just to keep him warm.

   When you arrived to the palace Wilbur was confused on your early arrival. He had expected you three to be gone for at least two, to three days. But when he saw the toddler he mostly summed up the early arrival. Phil didn't linger long on the hellos of being home. Instead he took tommy straight to the physician to make sure he wasn't sick at all. His parent sense buzzing in full drive.

   Well waiting for Phil and tommy to show up again, Techno, Wil and you had found yourself comfortably in the library. You were extremely tired. But like Techno you were waiting to see Phil and Tommy first, before you made a run for your bed. The fire was lazily burning in front of you offering a warm wave of comfort. Your head started to roll from your sleepless state. Even Technoblade started to droop his head. Luckily Phil walked in with a happy tommy on his hip.

   "The Physician says he’s all good health wise. nothing we should be concerned about thankfully" Phil said. Claiming his seat beside Techno. Tommy made his way into techno’s lap, interested with the earrings he had. Instead of telling him no, or swatting his hand away, Techno just took one of his earrings out. showing tommy the jewelry. The two of them were honestly were too adorable.

   “Is he our new brother?” Wilbur asked, watching the curious two year old.

   Tommy held all of your attentions, his actions were all done in innocence and curiosity. He was a cute kid, he had little Ringlet’s of blonde hair that matched Philza’s. “You think we can handle another mouth to feed?” Phil asked looking to Wilbur. Wil nodded in response. The idea of a younger brother exciting him. Phil looked back to Techno and Tommy.

   Tommy was happily babbling off about things he thought were cool on Techno. Techno only sat with kind eyes and a soft smile, replying to tommy.

   “I suppose I do have a new son now” Phil said, a kind smile dancing on his lips.

[heliads]

Are You Happy With Him?

Y/N is a Med-Jack in the Glade, who happens to be dating Gally. Newt happens to be completely in love with her, but he may have more of a chance with her than he’d first thought.

masterlist

The night is dark, the air is cool. Sparks dance away from the fire, and the Gladers mill about watching Gally pummel whatever boy had the misfortune to step into the circle with him, all the while pretending they can’t see the looming walls of the Maze rising up around them. Thomas is seated on the ground a distance away from everyone else, back leaned up against a fallen tree trunk while he listens to Newt explain everything there is to know about the Glade and the Maze and whatever else Thomas asks him. 

The sound of footsteps draws close, and seconds later another boy swings into a seat next to the two of them. Newt grins to see his friend. “Thomas, this is Minho. Think you’ve seen him around before, he’s a Runner.” Minho waves a greeting to Thomas, then glances back in the same direction as the two boys. “Newt talking you through life here in the Glade?”

Thomas nods. Minho keeps glancing around the campfire, then chuckles slightly when his eyes fall on the lone girl standing among the other Gladers. “Newt mentioned her yet?” Newt groans, but Thomas shakes his head. “No, not once. Who is she?” Minho adjusts his position so he’s facing Thomas, holding up his hands as if the runner’s about to deliver a key piece of information.

“That right there is Y/N. She’s a Med-Jack, although we all call her a Med-Jane because we’re a bunch of shanks who like to mess with our friends. The reason she’s so important is because Newt here is head over heels for her.” Newt rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, Minho, and you know that. Besides, it doesn’t matter how any one of us feel about her, because she’s seeing Gally. End of story.”

Minho groans. “Come on, Newt, there’s not a single person here who’d believe that klunk. Newt’s obsessed with her, but to be fair, we all kind of are. Anyways, the point is she’s one of the best Med-Jacks here, but you wouldn’t know it because Gally gives us a death stare whenever we talk about her for more than thirty seconds.”

Thomas looks up to see Y/N approaching the three boys. She jerks her head at them, and Newt and Minho move over so she can sit down. “I heard my name being mentioned. You telling the Greenie about how I’m the best person in the Glade by far?” Minho laughs. “We were saying that if he ever breaks an arm he should go to Clint instead.” Y/N lunges over to hit Minho on the shoulder, and the friends break into laughter.

Newt reaches behind him to grab a glass full of a frothy (and somehow dirty) amber liquid, taking a sip to Y/N’s disgust. She makes a face at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand that stuff. It’s foul.” Newt grins at her. “Your own boyfriend makes it, I feel like you should at least pretend to stomach it like the rest of us.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Not even our relationship can make me want to look at that poison.”

She sighs suddenly, eyes travelling across the campfire to where Gally’s pummeling yet another Glader into submission. “And it wouldn’t be the only habit of Gally’s that I disagree with.” Minho nods slowly. “It’s the Med-Jane impulse. Stops you every time.” Y/N gives him a look dripping with outrage, and she and the boys dissolve into laughter.

After a while, limbs get stiff and the four stand up to take a tour around the campfire. Newt points out the different groups of Gladers, and they’re doing fine until Gally ‘accidentally’ shoves a stumbling opponent into Thomas’ back, causing him to lose his balance. Thomas dusts himself off, but looks up when Gally approaches him. “What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you’re made of?”

Thomas stares at him, uncomprehending, but Y/N makes a quiet sound of annoyance. “Come on, Gally. It’s the guy’s first day here. Give him a break.” Gally ignores her, speaking even louder to Thomas to explain the rules of the fight. Newt drifts over, gently pulling Y/N away from the ring. “Let Thomas have a go. Gally probably won’t rough him up that much.”

They step aside, hanging on the outskirts of the group. Y/N winces as Gally shoves Thomas face-first into the dirt. “It’s barbaric. Does he really have to do this?” Newt stares at the ongoing fight, at Gally clearly reveling in the chance to rough up another Glader, then looks back at Y/N. “Are you happy with him?”

Y/N turns to him, a look almost like outrage on her face. “Of course I am, why would you ask me that? Maybe he has a few habits that aren’t my favorite, but he’s still one of the best guys in the Glade.” Newt shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Gally’s necessity as a Glader. I’m talking about how he makes you feel. Are you happy with him, Y/N? Actually happy?”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. “I should be able to answer that.” She’s silent for a moment or two longer. “I don’t know.” She stares back at the fight, flinching slightly when Gally’s fist crosses Thomas’ face as if she’s already mentally figuring out how much time she’ll have to spend in the Med-Jack hut trying to put the Greenie back together.

“I don’t think I am. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that in a very long time, and I haven’t thought about it in even longer.” Y/N tilts her head down, sighing quietly. Newt glances back at her, then carefully slides an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder.

The morning is bright, heat already pouring into the Glade. Newt is about to take his break for lunch, but he looks around and realizes he doesn’t see the one girl who should’ve been out to eat before him. He taps Zart on the shoulder. “You seen Y/N?” The Track-Hoe nods. “She had some argument with Gally, then headed out to the Deadheads for some peace and quiet. I don’t think she’s come back since.” Newt considers this. “I’m going to go get her, tell her it’s time for lunch. See you after the break’s over.”

The trees of the Deadheads sway slightly, offering some much-appreciated shade and cool despite the burning heat of the sun. Newt doesn’t have to walk far before he finds Y/N seated on a high-reaching tree branch, head leaned back against the rough bark. He climbs up after her, and they both pretend not to notice when his bad leg gives out, making him slip for just a second.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in the middle of the forest?” Newt asks, and Y/N smiles ever so slightly. “I’m here to avoid Gally. I broke up with him and now he’s passive aggressively building things as if every hammer swing could kill.” Newt frowns. “At least he’s being passive.” Y/N laughs. “Focus on the aggressive. It’s mostly just aggressive.”

She sighs suddenly, looking up at the tree branches around her. The leaves seem to form a slight crown around her head. “I never thought I’d be the one to end things. Always thought he’d get tired of me and that would be that. I don’t feel any different than I did before. Maybe a little more free, like I can finally complain about things and not have to mince my words around him.”

Newt nods. “He’ll come around after a while. He’ll mess around and be bloody angry for a while, but then he’ll be back to our usual easily-bothered Gally.” Y/N smiles. “You do have a way with words. I feel better already.” Newt laughs at that, then jumps down from the tree, holding out his hand to help Y/N down. “You’ll feel even better when you have your lunch. Come on, I’m sure Frypan’s outdone himself, or at least he’ll pretend he has.”

The afternoon is late, and Y/N’s still working in the Med-Jack hut despite the fact that she should have left long ago. Gally finally warmed up to her again a couple of days ago, and he’s sent in a torrent of injured Builders to join the already large number of wounded Slicers that occupy the hut. She’s been busy all morning, and finally finished sending the last boy out with bandaged hands and a promise to stay out of trouble.

Y/N’s just doing the last checks to make sure her workstation is clear and ready for the next morning when she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. She turns to see Newt lingering by the door, and smiles. “You’d better not have cut yourself too. I don’t even want to have to look at a bandage ever again, or maybe just until tomorrow.” 

Newt grins, padding into the room to come stand next to her. “No injuries here. We’re all good.” His focus shifts to the cabinet open above him, and Y/N’s failed attempts to reach the door to put a faded glass bottle of ointment back inside. “Here, I’ve got you.” He takes the bottle from her hand, reaching up over her head to slide it inside and shut the door. When he looks back down, he realizes that his slight movement had shifted him close to Y/N, and they stand only an inch or two apart. He stands there for just a second, then leans forward with the air of someone taking a leap of faith and kisses her.

His hands slip around her waist, and Y/N presses her palms against the small of his back. When he breaks away, her eyes are light, and happier than he’s seen in a while. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.” She says, and Newt finally allows himself a smile. “I’ve been wanting the same.”

When morning breaks, it brings with it fear and overwhelming terror. After the doors to the Maze didn’t close at nightfall, the resulting Griever attack had left the Glade weak and unprotected. Newt walks with Y/N to the opening of the Maze, and wraps a protective hand around hers as they watch Gally prepare to sacrifice Thomas and Teresa to the Grievers in the hopes of protecting the rest of the Gladers.

Teresa, already tied to a wooden pole, argues desperately that their deaths will do nothing to save the Glade. Gally grows angry and orders Thomas to be tied up as well, but Thomas fights back against his would-be captors. The second Thomas lashes out, Y/N drops Newt’s hand, and the two of them join Minho, Frypan, and a score of other supporters to turn the tide, forcing Gally back with weapons drawn.

Y/N remains silent as Thomas speaks to the rest of the Gladers, urging them to escape the Maze with him. More walk away from Gally to join Thomas and the others, but still more remain on the other side. Finally, when the last of the Gladers willing to leave stand by Thomas, Y/N steps forward. She speaks directly to Gally, her voice cracking slightly.

“Gally, please. Come with us. You won’t survive here if you stay.” Gally shakes his head just slightly. “Good luck with the Grievers.” Y/N looks at him, remembering all of the love she’d once had for him in that moment. “Don’t do this, Gally. Please.” But Gally turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there to watch him go. Newt stands silently beside her, and Y/N looks at him with pain before allowing him to wrap his arms comfortingly around her. “He made his choice. There’s nothing you can do.” She nods hesitantly, and they walk together into the Maze.

The journey through the Maze is fraught with peril, and Y/N watches with horror as friends she’d known for months died at the claws of the Grievers. Finally, amazingly, a small handful of Gladers make it through the Maze and into the broken rooms of WICKED. Y/N holds Newt’s hand as they walk through the rooms, broken glass crunching under their feet. They do not intend to let go.

There’s a voice from across the destruction, from one of the other rooms. The Gladers group together instinctively, Newt pulling Y/N close to his side. A figure steps out from the darkness, and Y/N’s breath catches in her throat when she recognizes the boy. “Gally?” Her voice echoes across the room and he nods ever so slightly. Newt steps in front of her protectively when he notices the gun in Gally’s hand.

Gally shakes his head quickly when he sees the boy move. “I’m not going to shoot her, Newt. That’s not why I’m here. I could never hurt her.” Y/N speaks in a calm voice. “Put down the gun, Gally. We can talk about this, about why you’re here.” Gally shakes his head again with even more fervor than before. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to do this.” He takes a shuddering gasp, and his eyes clear for just a second even as tears begin to pour down his cheeks.

“Are you happy with him?” Y/N nods slowly when she hears his question. “Yes. I am.” Gally forces something that looks almost like a smile, but with the overwhelming twist of his face from the tears it looks bent and broken instead of joyful. Gally redirects his attention to Thomas, who is asking him to put down the gun. Gally shakes his head, sobs still racking his body. “I belong to the Maze. We all do.”

It all seems to happen at once. Gally pulls the trigger, Minho moves in a blur of movement to throw a spear through Gally’s chest. Gally stumbles and falls to the ground. Y/N lets out this quiet scream, her breath rasping sharply against her throat. Newt covers her eyes with his hand, making sure that she can’t see the dead body of the boy she’d once loved.

It is then that Thomas sees the blood starting to spread from Chuck’s chest, then that he sees the way Chuck’s breathing falters and he starts to collapse to the ground. Thomas bends over him, frantic. “Y/N, Clint, somebody! He’s been- he’s been-” Thomas can’t finish the sentence. Y/N kneels next to him, ignoring the blood beginning to stain her hands, but at last she stands up again and shakes her head almost imperceptibly at Thomas.

Silent tears run down her cheeks as Thomas stares at her in mute incomprehension, then turns back to Chuck. Y/N buries her face in Newt’s shoulder, unable to watch as the young boy breathes his last in Thomas’ arms. When it comes time for them to leave, Thomas’ screams echo down the empty hallways. Newt takes Y/N’s hand, whispers in her ear. “There was nothing you could have done.” She looks at him sadly. “I know. And it hurts even more for it.”

The two of them head back down the halls together, hand in hand. She won’t leave him, not now. Not ever. He needs her as much as she needs him, as much as the sun needs the moon and the earth needs one more chance to heal. They do not intend to leave each other, never again. They do not know if they will have a choice about it, but it does not matter. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth to give themselves the chance to stay together.

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Winter In The Shade XIV

Part XIV

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2866

Requested by @pogueslandia : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (Let me know if there's any, though)

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You were distracted. Regulus had noticed that much. Two weeks had passed by since his game against Gryffindor and he had taken to himself to watch you closely. At first he was worried, now he was curious. He could feel you were distant, sometimes he would find your eyes lost in the crowd of students or a smile growing on your lips at something only you could figure out from all the voices. You spent more time out after dinner, Regulus finding you walking back to your common room late at night when you had supposedly already gone there. He didn’t question you but he wanted to know who this person was who had captured your attention.

Unfortunately, he was certain it had to be a Gryffindor. The presence of the house is always there whenever he notices these changes in your behaviour. He had so many questions and no reason to ask you about it. But he knew he could dig a little with the right words.

“...and I need this one and that one.” you said, walking through the shelves of the library with Regulus following you “Can you reach the red one for me?” you asked him, his arm easily going over your head and taking the book you pointed “Thank you.” you told him, adding the book to the pile in your arms.

Regulus just observed you, noticing a sweet smell coming from you. Your favorite perfume. You looked the same as always, Ravenclaw uniform neatly worn with a few details of your own design, leather bag hanging from your left shoulder as your body inevitably leaned towards that side due to the weight of all you carried. Your face, your hair, your voice it was all the same but it was all in the details. The perfume, the skip on your step, your more cheerful mood.

“You seem happier.” he said, earning a chuckle from you as you returned the book in your hand to the shelf.

“Thank you?” you answered doubtfully. There, no retort to fight him, no sarcastic comment to notice his own gloomy or serious mood.

“I mean it.” he told you, trying to look casual about it. He didn’t have it in him but he had to try, he’s used to being direct but going around things was not his thing. “What’s gotten you in such a happy mood lately?”

You made a face at him, leading him towards your table at the library. He took the seat right across from you, facing the entrance of the library as he had always liked to observe the people going in and out of the room. You moved your own chair out and took a seat, dropping the pile of books on the tables’ surface.

“Would you believe it's because of you?” you asked with a smile, taking your things out of your bag and placing one by one on the table.

Regulus shook his head, following your movements as he did the same “The fact that you asked me if I would believe you tells me it’s not because of me.” he stated, resting his back against the chair as he watched you. “And there is a reason because you are making up excuses.”

You frowned, hitting the table a little too hard with the spine of your book “I hate that you’re so clever sometimes.” you muttered bitterly, unknown to Regulus that you were starting to panic. Your leg a jumping mess under the table.

“Why won’t you tell me?” he asked. Going around things wasn’t working for him, it actually never worked for anyone but he knew that and trying it anyway got on his nerves a little too much. He needed answers.

“Because there is nothing to tell.” you said, voice high as you avoided his gaze. You were lying.

“Look at me.” he said.

You closed your eyes shut, letting out a single breath as you pressed your lips in a line. Finally you lifted your face, meeting his eyes. He had a relaxed posture, as relaxed as Regulus could get, but he still tilted his head. Oh, he knew what he was doing. He looked approachable and kind, more than usual in your eyes.

“You’re seeing someone.”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest, the drop of your stomach as you felt like someone had punched you on the gut enough to make all the happiness he was asking you about wash out of your face.

He wasn’t asking. It wasn’t a question. He was telling you because he knew.

Your thoughts started to go over everything you had done, everything you had said, how you acted, anything that could have given it away to him. Everything and nothing came to mind as you just stared at him, your body completely still.

Then it dawned on you that you weren’t seeing anyone. Not really. You and Sirius were friends who liked to spend time together. Behind your best friend and Sirius brother’s back. You thought bitterly, guilt starting to rise inside you. We’re just friends. Then why did your mind go immediately to Sirius at the question of you seeing anyone?

“What?” you asked in a whisper, taking a shaky breath after as the fear of your secret being discovered became more real.

He looked for your eyes, a small smile on his face “I know you’re seeing someone.”

“You know?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

But did he knew?

“And you’re not upset?” you asked, taking careful steps in the conversation.

“I don’t know why you felt like you couldn’t tell me.” he said “I’m more upset over the fact that they’re a Gryffindor, but I guess I’ll get…”

“You know!” you yelled. The shushing sounds from the students around you made you shrink in your place as you muttered a quiet apology, the flush in your cheeks nothing as you turned with wide eyes at Regulus, mouthing the words You Know.

“I had my suspicions.” he said, looking around before he settled back on you “You stare at the people of their house a lot and I still have to figure out who they are…”

His words were muffled by the relief washing over you. He didn’t know.

*******

Sirius had looked for you a couple of days after the Quidditch game. He had managed a couple of minutes away from all the eyes at Hogwarts to ask you to meet him later that day. Of course you had agreed.

You moved through the castle with light steps. It was late but not enough to get you in trouble, just to get a warning look from the professors. Sirius had asked you to meet him inside the castle but you couldn’t risk another surprise visit from Regulus, his extra classes had gotten all over his schedule and you no longer knew when he would be out and what days he wouldn’t. So you asked Sirius to meet you at the castle entrance. Doubtful, he had accepted.

So that’s where you were headed, playing with your fingers as you moved. The corridors were empty and the day getting colder, a chill running down your spine as more nerves got to you. Somehow, although you wanted this, you were also dreading it.

The doors were wide open, your figure a dot in the distance of what the entire castle represented. You glanced at either side of the door before you decided Sirius wasn’t there yet. You rested your weight on the wall outside the castle, closing your eyes as the air blew on your face. You found the feeling relaxing and refreshing, almost taking your worries with it.

Then something changed in the air, a different smell caught in the air as you started to feel different. Not alone. Your eyes fluttered open to see Sirius standing right beside you, a different look on his face as he watched you.

“You looked peaceful.” he said, offering his hand for you to take.

You glanced hesitantly at him, grabbing his hand “You look different.”

“And we’ve never looked better.” he said, his usual grin back on his lips as he gave a soft squeeze to your hand “Lead the way, since a castle is not enough for the lady.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you pulled him with you, missing his triumphant smile at teasing you.

You walked for a couple of minutes, going down the stairs to the black lake in silence. Once you got over the hills and past the shore of the black lake Sirius started asking questions but you didn’t give in, ignoring his every word until you got closer to your destiny, your secret space.

“Would you relax?” you asked him, his mouth never stopping until you talked “We’re almost there.”

“You could have told me where we are going.” he said, looking around you and seeing nothing familiar “You could be leading me to my death.”

“Oh, yes.” you smiled back at him before narrowing your eyes at him “I’m not really a student at Hogwarts. You see, I’m this serial killer who lures her victims by being a sweet girl, this is the place where all my victims have died and you are next.”

Your grasp on his hand got tighter, smiling at him before you focused on the way you were walking. Sirius raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting you drag him with his arm now stretched to create space between you two.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.” he said, his voice a little worried “You sound very convincing and your scenario sounds entirely possible now.”

You laughed out loud, throwing your head back lightly. Sirius' fake worry all washed away as a genuine smile replaced everything in his features, thinking that maybe, if you were actually a serial killer, this wouldn’t be such an awful way to die.

“I’m very capable of a lot of things, so you shouldn’t underestimate me.” you said, raising your eyebrows at him before you turn back front “We’re here.” you announced, letting go of his hand as you advanced some steps on your own.

You moved through the grass, grass tall enough to reach your ankles and wildflowers who filled the ground with beautiful dots of color. And to your right an enormous tree, vines hanging from its branches that you moved as if it was a curtain, letting you and Sirius through to a small meadow. The place was comfortable enough to have a picnic with a few friends and still have room to move around, the makeshift walls made of more trees and vines that covered the space to make the shape of what almost resembled a circle.

“Welcome to a small haven just outside Hogwarts.” you said to Sirius, spinning once in your spot as you focused back on his face. He looked amazed, his eyes finding the sky once before he moved to the green grass and small patches of flowers.

“Just outside is putting it lightly.” he whispered, but you could see he didn’t care about the distance or about walking all the way there with you. He softly ran his fingers over the vines that fell like heavy silks once again, covering the spot where you two had walked in. “You found this place?”

You hummed in response, nodding your head “I was trying to escape some friends while we played. It was my first year so I didn’t know the grounds of the school very well. I ran and ran until I could no longer hear them and then I hid here. They never found me.”

He laughed, his smile reaching his eyes as he continued to look around “You probably shouldn’t have shown me this place.” he told you, knowing perfectly that he would use it as a way to avoid professors and detention.

“I didn’t show you anything.” you said, patting a spot in the ground to then sit there with a huff “You followed me here.”

Sirius did the same thing and sat down next to you “You dragged me here.” he stated, giving you a knowing look.

“You offered your hand.” you argued back, throwing some of your hair over your shoulder “You could have let go at any time.” Your confidence didn’t last much as you burst out laughing, shaking your head as you tried to speak, the words coming out of your mouth unintelligible.

It took you a couple of minutes to catch your breath but in the end your chest started to rise and fall evenly, the air calm as you could only hear the breeze moving the tree tops. The silence fell heavily between you two, not in an uncomfortable way but enough to let you know the laughter was over.

You swallowed in anticipation, not knowing how to begin. In the end you didn’t have to, Sirius taking the chance first.

“I’m sure you have many questions and believe me, so do I,” he started, looking at his hands as he spoke “But you have to know whatever he is doing it’s not good.”

“You don’t know that.” you said in a low tone, still a hint of hope in your voice.

He shook his head, turning to look at you with that same desperation he had in his eyes the day you found Regulus. “You’re too good.” he whispered, raising his hand hesitantly to your face, his finger moving a piece of hair behind your ear.

His skin felt warm against yours, the back of his hand grazing your cheek as you moved your face away “I’m not naive.” you exclaimed “I know him. He is my friend, my family, he would never say that.”

“We both heard him, Y/N.” Sirius reminded you, his voice sounding deeper now “How can you explain what we both heard?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t know what I heard.” you said stubbornly, refusing to look at Sirius.

“You do know. I saw you there and you were hurt, we both know what he called you.”

You grunted, pushing yourself to your feet as you stood with your back at him “There must be an explanation.”

Sirius followed you, standing just behind you “For calling someone Pure enough…”

“Dont’!” you hissed, turning to Sirius with a glare in your face.

“I think it’s self explanatory, Y/N.” his voice had raised in volume, the two of you facing one another with glares in your eyes, not moving but holding each others’ eyes.

“Then why is he still my friend?” you asked in a whisper, faces inches away from one another, he heard you just right. “Why is he still by my side, why has nothing changed?”

“Because you’re everything he has left.” he whispered angrily, not being able to hold your gaze any longer as he turned from you. “I was once in your place. Then, he could afford to lose me, so he did. He had the chance to change, to prove everyone wrong but he chose status and the glory of being the only son of the Black family.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked him, confusion growing inside of you as you digested his words.

“Why do you think I left my home?” he asked quietly, “Why do you think my family and your best friend hate me so much? A shame to the Black family.”

A frown was set deep in your face, eyes wild as you started to put all the pieces together inside your head. The perfect son who hates his traitor brother. Traitor. Blood traitor.

Your gaze stilled for a moment, your eyes on the ground as you breathed in deeply. You raised your face slowly, eyes meeting Sirius’ as you stood straight. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, the small gap letting out air as you tried to even your breathing. Your entire face fell, sadness overtaking your eyes as you finally understood.

“You don’t believe in blood purity.” you whispered, voice rough as all the emotion you held inside tried to pour itself on your words. “But he does.”

“Yes.” A simple word, a full sentence. One that changed everything now that the truth was out.

Words got tangled on your tongue, you tried to speak but felt like all it would come out would be your screams.

Your body moved back on its own, rubbing the side of your arm with your hand as every word repeated itself in your head.

“He stayed?” you asked him.

Still that hint of hope. Sirius thought.

“He didn’t ask to come.” he said truthfully.

You nodded your head continuously, not stopping until you covered your face with the palms of your hands, pressing the cold feeling against your skin.

Seconds after you felt a pair of arms around your shoulders, his whispered words on the side of your head filled you with comfort as you moved your hands around his chest.

He held you for a long time, I could have been minutes or hours, it felt like a lifetime. Despite everything you had just learned, there, you felt safe.

TAGS

Skittles

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Winter in the Shade

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Marauders

@destourtereaux / @ktyflwr / @nehireerdogan / @medalloway-blog / @waxsealed-letters / @j-cat / @aleksanderwh0r3 / @lostrandomfangirl

Sirius Black

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[jombocostello]

(Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke, Okuyasu) Valentine’s Day Confessions

Anonymous asked: Happy 2021 and hope you had a great New Year’s! It’s a little early, but could I request HCs for how pt 3 Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke and Okuyasu react to getting Valentine’s chocolates from the person they like? If it’s not too much, maybe a little bit about what they would do in return for White Day? I love this cheesy trope. Thanks! ❤️

Thank you, and of course!! I’m such a sucker for literally any cheesy trope haha, so I really appreciate this! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

-- Jotaro --

Jotaro is no stranger to Valentine's chocolates.

Every single Valentine's day since the age of 12, he's received dozens of presents from countless peers. Most of the time, he doesn't even know their name - he just wordlessly takes the little box out of their hands and throws it rather carelessly into his locker. The spoils of the day usually end up going to his mom; Jotaro isn't a big fan of sweets.

When Valentine's Day rolls around this year, however, there is someone he wouldn't mind receiving a gift from. Over the past few months at school, he's gotten somewhat close with you. When you were seated next to each other in chemistry at the beginning of the year, Jotaro had thought nothing of it - he wasn't at all interested in making friends. However, as the class began, he started to notice little things about you. You were kind, always taking the time to strike up a conversation with him before class, and your laughter was infectious. Despite your happy-go-lucky nature, you could also be more down to earth, which Jotaro really appreciated. It only took a month for Jotaro to realize he was in love.

The hallways are loud today, as admirers rush through the halls during class to deliver their gifts. Jotaro walks to his locker and unlocks it, reaching in and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the little shelf. Just as he's about to take one, he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket.

"Hm?" He turns around and stares down at the perpetrator. It's a girl, with pretty hair and an anxious smile. After a moment of silent eye contact, the girl shakes herself a bit and shoves a small bag into Jotaro's chest. "H-happy Valentine's Day!" she says hastily. Jotaro just places the bag in his locker and looks back at her, his expression utterly vacant. It only takes a few more seconds for the girl to hurry away, flustered and a little embarrassed.

The bell rings to signify the official end of the school day (Jotaro had skipped his last class just for the hell of it), and suddenly there's even more commotion. Despite how much he would love to get out of this hellhole, Jotaro stays put, folding his arms over his chest. His gaze locks on a locker on the other side of the hallway - it's yours. He figures he should wait for you.

In the time it takes for you to show up, six other people have gifted Jotaro Valentine's Day gifts. None of them received so much as a word of thanks, which Jotaro doesn't really feel bad about. He just wants to see you.

Finally, you get to your locker. "Hey!" he calls, waving you over. You turn around and grin when you realize who it is, and after quickly grabbing your books you walk over to his side of the hall.

"You made out like a bandit," you mutter, peering past Jotaro and at the stack of candies in his locker. "Does that happen every year?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Still don't know why." He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. "Did you get anything?"

You laugh a little and shrug. "Nah, but I was planning on giving something." Jotaro's eyes widen and he glances at the ground, trying not to let his expression give anything away. It's a long shot, but he really hopes your gift is for him.

"Are you doing anything later?" he asks after he's recovered somewhat. You shake your head, and a rare smile appears on Jotaro's face. "We could hang out, if you want. Maybe share all this stuff." He gestures to the gifts in his locker, and you laugh.

"That would be fun." Your smile softens a bit, and Jotaro watches you closely. "I guess we could share these too!"

Jotaro's smile grows, and you quickly reach into your bag and pull out a little box of sweets. "Here you go!" You present them to him with a big grin on your face. "It's been really great spending this year with you," you say, and Jotaro can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Would you want to be my Valentine this year?"

Gingerly, Jotaro takes the box from your hands and holds it close. "Yes," he replies almost immediately. "I'd really like that."

"Cool." Jotaro carefully puts all the Valentine's candies in his bag, being extra-sure not to damage yours. Once he's done, you reach out and take his hand in yours. "Do you mind if I hold your hand?" you ask, noting his surprised expression.

He blinks and clears his throat, suddenly horribly flustered. "N-no. I don't mind at all." With a warm smile, you turn and head to the exit, pulling Jotaro along behind you. He really can't believe how lucky he is that you returned his feelings.

Outside, you both stand together in front of the school. "We can go to my house," Jotaro says, nodding his head in the direction of the route home. "But my mom'll be there."

"Sure! And I don't mind," you tell him with a little laugh. "I know you love her a lot, so she must be nice."

"...Yeah. Yeah, she's nice." Feeling happier than he maybe ever has, Jotaro walks with you down to the road. You're his best friend - you have been for a while - and he's so happy that you've become something more as well.

For White Day:

After one month of dating, you're not actually expecting to receive a gift from Jotaro. He's not a very material person; he prefers to show his love in more subtle, sensitive ways, and you appreciate it endlessly. However, on White Day, Jotaro surprises you with a delicate piece of jewelry! It's kind of obvious that he asked his mom for help in selecting it, but that makes it even sweeter.

-- Kakyoin --

Unlike his more popular classmate, Kakyoin really isn't used to getting Valentine's gifts. Since a very young age, Kakyoin has kept himself pretty isolated; he's never been very sociable. This led to him being labeled as rude and even a little intimidating, and he resigned himself to that fate.

However, when Kakyoin re-enrolled in Jotaro's school after returning from Egypt, things were a little different. Spending fifty days with four near-strangers had helped him open up, and after his dance with death in Cairo, he didn't want to waste a single day of his life. So, he approached his senior year with confidence and charisma - at least as much as he could muster - and to his delight, this ended up creating a beautiful friendship.

You've been best friends with Kakyoin since you wound up in the same class. You're both quiet, though you have an easier time socializing with your peers than Kakyoin does, and you both can be quite talkative once you've opened up to someone. It was during school lunch hour that you and Kakyoin really got to know each other, talking at length about anything either of you found interesting, and it was also during this time that Kakyoin developed a bit of a crush.

Now it's Valentine's Day, and Kakyoin refuses to let himself hope that you feel the same. Besides the crusaders, Kakyoin has never felt this close of a connection with someone, and he's terrified of letting an unrequited crush break it apart. He stands by his locker, trying not to look as anxious as he feels, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as students rush out of class to find their significant others. He's struck by a pang of loneliness as he observes two students lovingly exchanging Valentine's candy, and he tries to will the feeling away as he takes his bag out of his locker.

"Hey, Kakyoin!" He nearly jumps out of his skin when he shuts his locker and finds you smiling sweetly at him. "Shit, did I scare you?" you ask, your smile dropping.

"Yeah," he replies, laughing a little awkwardly. "Don't worry about it." He gets the last of his stuff together and throws his bag over his shoulder. "So how was math today?"

You give him something between a smile and a grimace. "Oh, you know - hell." You both laugh. "The test's next week, so at least I'll have time to study."

"We could study together!" Kakyoin suggests, then all in a rush he feels heat flood to his face. You blink, looking similarly flustered. After quickly shaking himself, he stammers out, "If-if you want to! If it's not weird or anything."

You clear your throat, hastily shaking your head. "Not weird at all! No, I'd love to." Phew. Kakyoin lets out a small exhale and nods. "But hey - can I talk to you for a minute? Over where we have lunch?"

Kakyoin frowns. He starts to ask if something's wrong, but he stops himself. "Oh - alright." Together, you and Kakyoin head over to the back of the school, underneath a large tree. This had been where the two of you met.

There's a solemn feeling to the air as you lean against the wall of the school, taking a quick breath. Kakyoin watches you nervously; he's actually managed to forget what day it is in his worry for you. "Is something the matter?" he asks gently, and you look up into his violet eyes. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know."

You grin, surprising Kakyoin, and suddenly you reach out and wrap your arms around him. "No, nothing's wrong," you murmur, and Kakyoin can hear the smile in your voice. If nothing's wrong, then what...? "I have something for you."

Kakyoin hesitantly lets you go, and you quickly reach into your bag. He almost forgets how to breathe when you pull out a little pink box with a red heart sticker on top. "I was kinda scared to do this, because I don't really know if you feel the same way that I do, but I figured I should try. Would you be my valentine?" With the most adorable grin, you reach out and offer him the box of sweets.

For a few moments, he can't figure out how to cohesively form words. As his mind searches desperately for a response, he carefully takes the box from you. "Yes," he finally forces out. "Yes, I would love that more than anything, (Y/N)."

You laugh out loud and stand up on your tip toes, pressing a kiss to Kakyoin's cheek; you laugh even harder when his face turns the same shade as his hair. "I'm so glad," you say softly. "I was really hoping you felt the same."

"Of course I do," he responds quickly. "You're wonderful." And he leans down and kisses you, and the motion is the most natural thing in the world.

For White Day:

Kakyoin's main goal for White Day is to show you just how much you mean to him, and how much he appreciates your love. He'd get you something that's connected to an interest of yours, whether it be a book from a series you enjoy, a new video game, or a clothing piece from a line you love. He wants the gift to be as personal as possible, and the greatest gift for him would be seeing the way your eyes light up as he gives it to you.

-- Josuke --

Valentine's Day is always the most hectic day of the year for Josuke. In fact, right now he's running full-speed out of his high school to try and avoid the horde of students who intend to shower him in Valentine's Day gifts.

He appreciates it, he really does, but after so many years of countless peers fawning over him, he's starting to get a little sick of it all. He doesn't really understand why they all like him so much; other than his sick pompadour, he's pretty sure he's just like any other guy.

He bursts through the front door and keeps going, racing past the train tracks and finally stopping in front of the cafe down the street from his house. He quickly grabs a table and throws himself into a chair, trying desperately to catch his breath. If he lays low here for a while, hopefully he'll be in the clear -

"What's up, Josuke?"

He whips his head around when he hears his name, but instantly he relaxes when he sees it's just you, his buddy who moved to Morioh only a few months ago. You're a good friend of Josuke's; ever since you were shot with the stand arrow and gained a new ability, you've been spending a lot of time with the other stand users in town - mainly Josuke. You're a really easygoing and lighthearted person, but at the same time you're smart and witty, and Josuke loves spending time with you.

"Seriously, what's going on? You look like you just ran a marathon."

Josuke laughs breathlessly and nods. "I did. I was trying to avoid the Valentine's crowd."

"The crowd...?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. Josuke gestures for you to pull out a chair and take a seat. As you sit, he rests his chin in his hand.

"Yeah. Every year I get totally swamped with Valentine's Day gifts. It's sweet, and I appreciate it, but it can be seriously overwhelming."

Josuke notes a change in your expression, but he can't quite place it; is it embarrassment? Either way, it's gone in a second, and you laugh a little. "Didn't know you were such a charmer," you tease, poking him in the arm, and he swats your hand away with a grin. "Seriously, though, that must be tough. Does rejection ever discourage them?"

"Not really, honestly. I guess I can admire their perseverance." Suddenly, a waiter arrives and asks the two of you if you'd like a drink. "Yeah," Josuke says quickly. "I'll have an iced tea. How about you, (Y/N)?"

You blink, looking a little stunned, and after a moment you order your drink of choice. As the waiter leaves, Josuke looks at you with a frown on his face. "You alright? You seem a little out of it."

You wave your hand through the air, smiling. "Nah, I'm good." After a little more chatting, the drinks arrive and you both enjoy your beverages.

After a few more minutes, you hesitantly say Josuke's name. "What's up?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Ah..." You grin nervously, looking to the side. "I get that Valentine's Day is a sore subject for you, but - isn't this a bit of a Valentine's date?"

Instantly Josuke turns bright red. "Oh my God!" he breathes, totally mortified. "Are you - are you uncomfortable with that? If you are it's really no problem, I just wasn't thinking and - "

"No!" You reach out and grab Josuke's arm, looking at him with wide eyes. "No, I'm not uncomfortable at all. Are you?" He feels his heart skip a little at the sincerity in your eyes, and he shakes his head. "Okay." You let go of Josuke and reach down into your schoolbag, pulling out a small letter. "I really should thank you for dropping the perfect opportunity right in my lap." With a small smile, you set the letter down on the table. "Josuke, would you wanna be my valentine?"

There's something so genuine in your voice that makes Josuke nearly swoon. He can't believe he's never realized how sweet you really are. "Yeah," he says quickly, a grin growing on his face. "Yeah, that would be amazing."

"Really?" You laugh and lean across the table, giving Josuke a huge hug. His heart nearly skips a beat when he realizes you're purposely being careful with his precious hairstyle. "Oh my God, I'm so happy." You let go and lean back. "You scared the shit out of me with all that Valentine's Day talk."

Josuke laughs. "My bad. I'm glad I didn't scare you off." The two of you continue on your impromptu date, and Josuke tucks your letter into his pocket. He's excited to read it, and he's ecstatic to be your Valentine.

For White Day:

Josuke would want White Day to be a full-day experience; he'd take you anywhere, from the mall to the beach and even hours away to a theme park. He'd even skip class if need be! Being with you is so much fun, and he'd want his gift to reflect that. A day full of adventure would be the perfect encapsulation of your relationship.

-- Okuyasu --

Okuyasu has never been too serious about Valentine's Day. For a good portion of his life, he really didn't even have any close friends besides his brother, so romance was never even remotely in the picture for him. However, once he meets Josuke and the rest of his stand-user classmates, he starts to feel a little romantically inclined towards you, his closest friend in your already tight-knit group.

You're a complete goofball. Your favorite hobby is making people laugh, and you succeed wholeheartedly in that task whenever you're around Okuyasu. He finds you hilarious, and he finds it extremely sweet that you love making him smile so much. He likes to think that he does the same for you; you seem to like spending time with him, seeing that you do so pretty often.

When Valentine's Day rolls around, Okuyasu is completely prepared to confess. He's scared shitless, but he's so passionate about his feelings for you that he's willing to ignore any anxieties and make his feelings known. All day he suffers through his classes, playing the scene over and over in his head. It has three outcomes: either you accept and return his love, you reject his proposal but agree to be friends, or you flat out refuse him and cut all contact. He can't describe how terrified he is of the last potential result, but he forces himself to be courageous and persevere.

Finally, his last class ends, and he hurries to your locker. There you are, going through your books, and Okuyasu's breath catches in his throat at how lovely you look today. It might just be the adrenaline, but he's sure you look more beautiful than you ever have.

Nervously he approaches you, and you spot him before he can greet you himself. "Hey, Okuyasu!" you call, waving with a bright smile. "How's it going?"

"Alright!" he replies, his voice far too loud. "Just the same old, ya know?"

"Same here. I was just waiting to get out of class." You finish with your books and shut your locker, and you turn to him. "So what's up? Do you have any plans later?"

"No," he responds hastily. "Free schedule today. But, uh - " he takes a deep breath " - I did have something I wanted to talk to you about." Your eyes widen, and you smile a little.

"So did I! Yeah, there was something I needed to tell you too." You voice wavers a bit, and Okuyasu feels his heart pound even harder in his chest; are you onto him? Are you trying to shut down his feelings before he can mess up and reveal them? "Do you wanna talk outside? It's a little loud in here."

"Sure! Sounds good!" With a horribly forced laugh, Okuyasu follows you outside and into the school courtyard.

You take a seat on a little bench and Okuyasu plops down next to you. "So... I guess I should just tell you, then," you mumble, your voice totally uncharacteristic.

Sweating, Okuyasu vigorously nods his head. "Sure - well, maybe you'd like me to go first?" he offers; you sound oddly nervous.

You say something in reply, but Okuyasu's so stuck in his own head that he honestly doesn't hear it. He figures that it's now or never - Valentine's Day is dwindling to an end - so he reaches over and pulls his love letter to you out of his bag. After sucking in a deep breath, he turns and presents the envelope to you. "For you!" he announces, eyes squeezed shut, and he hears nothing in response until you start to laugh.

He opens one eye, and he nearly bursts into tears when he sees that you're holding a Valentine's Day gift of your own out to him. He feels laughter bubble up in his chest, and he bursts into laughter, setting the envelope on your lap and leaning back to let out a full belly laugh.

"We - we really both - " you wheeze, clutching your sides as you look up at Okuyasu with grinning, teary eyes. "Holy shit, dude! I can't believe it - " You're taken by another peal of laughter, and the two of you laugh and laugh for what feels like hours.

Finally, the hilarious moment winds down to a close, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. "Oh my God, Okuyasu. I'm so happy." You reach out and take his hands, and he nearly jumps at the contact. "I was praying you felt the same, I really was."

"So was I," he responds, grinning. "I love you, (Y/N), and I'd love to be your Valentine."

You gently raise his hand to your mouth and press a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Of course," you breathe, and Okuyasu is utterly smitten.

For White Day:

To Okuyasu, the greatest gift is something that is made with love. Therefore, he decides that the perfect White Day gift is a homecooked meal! He's been taking cooking lessons with Tonio for a good while, so he's fully equipped with the skills to make you a wonderful meal. He might slip up now and again in the preparation, but that's what makes a dinner cooked from the heart so special.

[yelenasdog]

the pillowtalk of a pessimist (spencer reid x fem reader)

genre: fluff with a millisecond of angst

summary: pillowtalk takes an interesting turn for spencer at the mention of the harsh realities of his work.

words: 1.3k, she’s a shorty.

warnings: nsfw themes (nothing smutty, it’s just implied and also directly stated that they slept together), typical criminal minds violence + death, and maybe cursing? idk. 

a/n: btw this isn’t the fic i was ranting on about that i’m writing, she’s still in the works. also! this could be an x oc or anybody bc i didn’t use y/n if you would prefer to read it as such.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

A pale stream of moonlight shone through the open window of apartment 23, the home of Doctor Spencer Reid. It illuminated a small section of his bedroom, specifically on one of his many floor to ceiling bookshelves, a beacon of knowledge that was there 24/7 for the taking.

The gold engravings on the spines of his many reads shimmered, a beautiful contrast to the dark mahogany the shelf was made out of.

The room smelled like a mixture of his cologne, her perfume (Chanel no. 5, specifically), and the results of their previous affairs that lingered in the crisp air of the night.

She took a deep breath, settling down further into the white duvet, pulling it over her bosom in response to the chilly temperature. The dark green walls of the room welcomed and calmed her, overwhelming the girl with a wave of serenity that could only be brought to her by him.

He quickly took note of her unsteady breathing and shift in position, immediately jumping to action. He pulled her closer by her shoulders with his strong arms, eliciting a squeal from her and a chuckle from him, more so at her reaction than the move itself.

Her head laid on his bare chest, her hair splayed out with half of it residing on his pillow, the other half on his bicep. She could have appeared to be an angel, although in his eyes, she truly was.

She rested her hand on the left side of his chest over his heart, her fingernail ghosting shapes on his tanned skin. Circles, squiggly lines, even abstract faces.

“How do you do it?”

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. If his hearing wasn’t so acute, he was sure he would have missed it. This would have saddened the genius greatly, as he valued everything she had to say with a burning ferocity, and even one word lost would be a shame.

“What?”

He was confused by the nature of the question, attempting to search every corner of his brilliant brain for what she might have been referencing. Was it an equation? No, she hated math. Perhaps the way he so effortlessly could play any instrument because yet again, math. He decided that couldn’t be the subject at question either, she played better than he did, glorious melodies flowed from her fingertips. So the doctor was truly stumped.

The answer was simpler than he had imagined.

“Your job.”

With those doe eyes he was so fond of, she looked up, meeting his own glance.

If the term “heart eyes” was able to be personified, Spencer would be the guy to personify it whenever his eyes landed on the one in front of him.

“What do you mean? I get up in the morning, drink some coffee, and get to it.”

She giggled, but the sound he loved so much ceased with her pout.

“That’s not what I mean, Spence. How do you go on everyday, seeing body after body,” she trailed off, obviously distraught. Spencer wrapped his large hand tighter around her, placing his chin on her hairline.

“How do you consistently manage to look at these victims, these people, with lives that they never got to finish living-“ A tear slipped down her cheek, she bit her bottom lip, tasting her own salty droplets on her tongue. She sniffled, burying her head further in his neck with what he presumed was shame.

“And not break down when you do.” Her voice was muffled, but the emotions she felt were evident nonetheless.

He took a moment to carefully articulate an appropriate response. The gears in his mind turned ever so diligently, finding a solution to dry her tears.

“It’s not much different than what I initially said. I get up in the morning, drink some coffee.”

He pushed a hair away from her face, admiring her distinct features as he often did. She looked up, moving her left hand to trace his sharp jaw as he sat in thought.

“And I realize that these people that are now dead, are a part of the hundreds, of throusands, of millions of people that die every year. It’s a part of life, what gives it meaning.”

She gave a dry, humourless laugh.

“What, you don’t have a specific statistic for that?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t think you want to hear it.” He tilted his head, weighing the option of disclosing the information but deciding against it.

“But the bottom line is, they have families. Families that are grieving, and hurting, and needing answers and justice. I cannot do my job and give them the closure they deserve if I’m staying focused on my own emotions and delving deep into who the victims were, rather than how to catch those responsible for hurting them.”

She moved on to her back, stilling managing to keep her eye contact with Spencer.

“But you’re a profiler! That’s what you do! You’re supposed to, what did you call it, ‘delve deep’ into who they are.”

“Pretty girl, are you trying to tell the one with 3 doctorates how to do his job?”

She rolled her eyes, lazily throwing a hand on his neck, right behind his ear. She ran it back and forth, savoring the intimate moment.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Agent.” She taunted, poorly trying (and failing) to agitate Spencer. She had a hunch (that was more true than either of them would let on) that it wasn’t possible for her to do so, and he found himself proving it to be correct.

“I just had to learn to let the family do what they had to do so that I could do the same.”

The girl’s tone softened as she spoke, staring at the popcorn ceiling.

“I guess so. I’m just too empathetic, my heart is too pure.” She joked, a feathery laugh falling past both of their lips.

“Of course. I would expect nothing less.” He teased back, enjoying the dynamic they both held in the tender moment.

“You amaze me.” She muttered, leaning in, analyzing him and his ruffled post-sex hair, his gorgeously long lashes, and his light 5 o’clock shadow that donned his chin.

He huffed quietly, doing the exact same thing, minus the scruff of course.

“I could say the same to you, pretty girl.”

Their lips connected once again, in a different manner than the feverish and needy kiss from before.

This time, it was a union of two individuals, allowing themselves to mould together in a way only the two of them could. It was slower and sweeter, with more feeling poured into their lips while they moved in sync.

“M’ tired.”

“Yeah? You wanna go to sleep, bubs?”

She grinned as she snuggled into his arms, her exhausted eyes fluttering to a close.

“Bubs, huh? That’s new.”

A worried frown made its way onto his face as he rushed to cover up his previous words.

“D-do you not like it? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-“

“Spence.”

He stopped, looking over her for any microexpressions, only seeing positive signs. That wasn’t technically profiling, right? He hoped he would be in the clear if she ever was to find out.

“I love it, baby. Say it again.”

“Bubs?”

“Mhm. Say it again.” She sounded with content. He smirked, a proud feeling infiltrating his body, causing him to puff up his chest in the slightest way.

“Goodnight, bubs.”

He reached up, his paranoia forcing him to close the window above him, despite being a more than qualified FBI agent with a revolver safely tucked away in the top drawer of his night stand that never quite was shut all the way.

It was just the pessimist in him.

She wrapped around his figure, intertwining his form with her own.

“Sleep well, Spence.”

He felt happy with her, happier than he had been in a long time. He relished in that, allowing it to lull him to a well needed rest.

But what could he say, she just brought out the optimist in him.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

hj posting at a time that isn’t 3 am?????? unheard of. also i may or may not have pulled an all nighter to write whatever tf this is bc my ex posted something with his new gf and i felt pathetic LMAO. anyway, i hope your day is fabulous, go drink some water and remember things are what you make of them and it’s all about intent! love you, xx hj.

[rogue-durin-16]

AN UNUSUAL YEAR (Part V/V)

Summary: After having little to no interest on girls for five years, Fred suddenly feels the need to nag the shit out of a certain witch, completely oblivious to the reason behind it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff (+ enemies to lovers)

Tags:

An unusual year: @natural-hearts @manuosorioh @lumos-solemn @westyywifee @whiskeyn-rain @warlock--protection @gossip-girl-ecr @fandomscombine @birdy944 @28cnn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: a little angst, a little snogging 👀

A/N: maybe a bit longer than I expected but it's alright. Also I might write an addition to this story, not sure tho. I hope y'all enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it <3

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/n! Come sit with us?" George waved at me from the Gryffindor table as I entered the Great Hall, prompting me to sit across him and Angelina, and besides Fred. "Where's Mathilda?" He asked as I got closer, leaving my books on the wooden surface.

"She's feeling unwell." As I sat down, I noticed George's arm around Angelina and I couldn't help the knowing grin that tugged the corner of my lips. "The date exchange at the Ball turned out well, huh?"

"I could say the same about you." He wiggled his brows at me with the same grin I had.

I felt a sudden rush of panic going through my body. My eyes traveled to the boy by my side, who was oddly quiet, and I found him already peeking at me.

"Meaning?" I decided to play dumb, taking a bite of my golden slice of toast whilst ignoring the intending gazes of the couple in front of me.

"You two were having a great time last night." Angelina jumped in, leaning over her table. "Didn't see you coming back, Fred." She added, redirecting her eyes to the ginger.

"I did." His brother laughed. "I daresay you two had an intense night." I felt my cheeks reddening, not finding enough strength to meet George's look. "It was about time, really."

I was startled by Fred abruptly standing up. "See you in class." The curt reply he offered before fleeing shocked all of us; specially his brother, who, with a polite apology, left me and Angelina to go after his twin.

"I feel like I shouldn't ask." She spoke quietly.

"I don't have an answer."

I feared she would see through me. I hadn't lied, but my gut told me whatever happened had to do with the change of demeanor he had at the end of our night out.

I wouldn't say it out loud but a part of me began to worry.

The worry stayed throughout that entire week, guilt joining it at some point. Fred's attendance in Charms, Astronomy and Potions had decreased; I had only see him attend once to Astronomy. The only thing he did was play with his quill and, whenever he thought I didn't notice, stare at me.

Ironically enough, we started spending most of the time together; after the winter break, George had incorporated both Mathilda and me to their friend group, which, in different circumstances, would have been great.

Alicia Spinnet gained special interest on my best friend; Lee Jordan would joke about Slytherins and Gryffindors getting together, and Angelina— well, she seemed happier now that she could hang out with all her friends at the same time.

Fred was miserable. Everyone could see it, yet they did their best to cover it up.

George would overcompensate his brother's attitude by being louder and paying extra attention to me, but it worsened the situation.

I wanted to ask Fred what was wrong, but then again we weren't even good friends, so was it really my place to ask?

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

George had proposed a trip to Hogsmade a couple of days ago and we all agreed on going, but the day came and Fred wasn't there.

His brother alleged he had a terrible headache and had chosen to stay in bed. We all saw through his excuse, and once more no one said a word.

It was that night that George came to look for me.

"—well then, go get her!" His shouts got into the common room when a second year entered..

"What's this about?" I inquired, coming out to the hallway to see the ginger about to throw hands at my prefect.

"I need you." He stated, quickly losing interest on whatever the prefect had to say. I only nodded and motioned him to move with me far from the Slytherin door. "You have to speak to Fred now." He almost pleaded, a frown of worry forming on his face.

"Sure— wait, now?" I stared at him in confusion.

"Sorry, I know it's late" his apology didn't mean he would ask me to do it in the morning instead.

I let out a sigh before inquiring, "Where's he?"

"The Astronomy tower, I believe." He replied.

"Alright," I said more to myself. "I'll go grab my jacket." He murmured another apology and a thank you before heading off to his House.

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

I came to a halt at the top of the stairs when I saw him sat against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest with his arms around them, and his face buried between them."Hey there, stranger."

He raised his head, letting his eyes and nose be seen."Who gave me away?"

"George."

"Tosser" he muttered, taking his gaze to the levitating bundle of newspaper on fire that was probably keeping him somewhat warm up there.

"Is it that bad to see me now?" I took a couple of careful steps towards the boy.

"It's always that bad to see you."

"Odd for you to say that," I let myself slide down the wall to sit by his side with my legs stretched out. "given how much you stare."

"Touché." He replied, the ghost of a smile breaking through his depressed demeanor. "What are you doing here?"

"What's wrong?"

"I asked first."

"I asked second." He raised his brows at me and it was my turn to avert my eyes from him. "I'm... Worried. About you."

When I shivered due to the wind flowing through the tower, he scooted closer and moved the little fire with his wand for it to be in the middle.

"You're all dejected and sulky," I explained. "You barely attend to our classes together, and if you do, you don't pay attention." I felt him shift uncomfortable by my side. "I'm... I'm gonna regret this— I miss you being a bloody nuisance."

"I knew you loved it." His teasing, though it was meant to be funny, sounded almost painful.

"now, what's wrong?" He shrugged, his chin resting over his forearms. "Listen, if you're not gonna tell me, it's fine, but at least tell George."

"Are you thick?" The bitterness in his tone took me aback. "Y/n, I fancy you." He hid his face between his arms. "quite a lot, actually." He added in a mumble.

"I figured that at the ball, you know?" This time it was me who scooted closer. "Tell me that's not the reason behind this."

"Would you like me to lie?" He questioned, shame slipping out with his voice. "I'm a very good liar you wouldn't even question it." He took a deep breath before looking back up, stretching one of his legs and leaning against the wall. "At the ball, I tried to start something." He began, fidgeting with his hands. "I... This never happened to me, so I wasn't- I didn't know what I was doing, but I thought I was making it clear." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "But when I left you—"

"You know I fancy you too, right?" I tilted my head, searching for his eyes. "As in, more than a one time thing."

"That I didn't know." I felt a pang of guilt, realizing that unconsciously I had played a big part on this.

FRED'S P. O. V.

We stayed in silence.

It wasn't an unsettling silence, but the air weighed over us due to the tension floating on it; I needed to defuse it, otherwise it would crush me.

My heart hammered against my chest while I extended my arm to hold her hand on mine.

It's not meant to be nerve-wracking, I thought to myself as I pulled her hand away from her lap; we had already made clear we fancied each other.

The moment she put her head on my shoulder, the tension completely dissipated. I didn't notice the sigh that left my lungs when it happened.

"Didn't put you, Fred Weasley, in the I'm-a-bundle-of-nerves-with-girls category."

"Oh, shut it." I threw my head back, laughing for the first time in a couple of weeks.

"Never." She gave my hand a squeeze and I allowed my cheek to rest over her crown. "You could, of course, find a way to shut me up."

It wasn't her words that cracked me up, but the suggestive tone she used, which took me back to that night in the Duelling Room when I accidentally let slip my feelings for her for the first time.

I raised my head from hers. "Beg your pardon?" I played the fool, trying to hide the ghost of a smile when she shoot me a wide-eyed look. "What are you insinuating, woman?"

"Do you really wanna start the teasing now?" She gave me a warning glare.

"You've just said you missed it." I couldn't hold back the chuckle.

"I knew I was gonna regret it." She groaned, throwing her head back. My eyes, finally on her, traveled to her now exposed neck and collarbone. Though they weren't visible, I could see the trail of kisses I had left there just a few weeks ago. "Stop staring and kiss me."

It didn't take anything else for me to throw the levitating burning paper away and tug her closer by her hand.

The moment our mouths met, I slipped my hand away from Y/n's so I could led her thighs to straddle my legs.

A quiet moan escaped my lips when she rolled her hips against mines; my hands automatically traveled up from her thighs to her waist, pulling her flush against me.

The temperature in the high, cold tower had shot up all from sudden. Just as we were about to start discarding clothes, quick steps were heard climbing up the stairs.

"Fuck!" She whisper-shouted, practically pushing me away as she got up. "Move, move, move!" As she helped me up and we ran to hide, it dawned on me that we were way past curfew. That got me moving.

We waited for Filch to get to the top of the tower before running down as fast as we could.

"No time for goodbyes!" she warned as we rushed through the vast hallways with Filch after us. "See you tomorrow—"

Before she could sprint downstairs to the dungeons, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into a side hall.

"You won't make it to the dungeons." I stated between pants, glancing at the path we had taken. I wasn't able to see the caretaker yet, but his pants could be heard. "Take the other stairs I'll distract him."

"You'll get grounded." She observed, her breathing as heavy as mine, if not more.

"Worth it." I curtly reply, feeling the corners of my lips twisting up.

"You know?" She pushed herself off the wall she had leaned against to catch her breath. "Sometimes you're really sweet."

"Quick!" I tugged on her hand, seeing Filch finally turn the corner. "Gimme a good luck kiss!"

She pulled me down and kissed my lips briefly before taking off in the other direction. I had to tell myself to shake off that stupid smile and run.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

The next morning I eagerly made my way to the Great Hall with two goals; having breakfast, of course, and checking if Fred had made it to his House without getting caught.

I soon spotted the group, this time sitting on the Slytherin table.

Soon his eyes found me too, and without saying a word to anyone, he got up and jogged to meet me halfway.

"Did you make it?" I asked, standing way too close to him and therefore attracting some nosey looks.

"By a whisker." He responded, taking a look around before looking back at me. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a drink after class." I raised my eyebrows at him with a smirk. "We can use a passage to get to Hogsmade."

"Are you asking me on a proper date, Weasley?" I teased with my hands on my hips. "How cute."

He avoided eye contact, deciding to take another look around instead. "I swear if you tease me right now—"

"I'm free after four." I cut him off. "Now if you excuse me, I'm hungry." I passed him by, playfully bumping his shoulder, and made my way to our friends.

I didn't get far before his hands spun me around and cupped my cheeks, giving me a surprisingly deep kiss. "Are you gonna kill me?" He murmured, his lips still ghosting over mines.

"Oh, you know me so well." I replied, feeling my face heating up. We couldn't help but laugh when whistles and hollers came from behind me. "I might kill them too." I added, making fall into a fit of laughter as we pulled away in order to walk to where our friends sat. "I wanna have breakfast in peace." I warned them, sitting down with Fred by my side.

Everyone was giving looks at each other and trying to hold back the giggles, so I knew a comment was coming, but not from whom.

I could instantly tell I wasn't the only one shocked by the speaker. "But you just had him for breakfast." My best friend responded, faking confusion.

"I was just thinking about that!" Lee yelled, a bit too excited.

"Mathilda Foxglove—" I began, everyone cracking up.

"You are doomed." Fred finished, shoving a toast into his mouth to stop his laughter.

"It was worth it." She stated between giggles.

Fred gave me a side look with a half smile and I thanked Merlin no one could see the boy's fingers interlaced with mines under the table.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

it’s not the waking, it’s the rising

I was gonna ask if you guys are ready to cry at nine in the morning but who am I kidding, this fandom is always crying

summary: Caleb put a cross on Alex’s suit; Alex comes to terms with this, among other things

warning: christianity, religious trauma

word count: 1,542

---

There was a song. When Alex was a kid, there was a song that his mother would sing to him every night before bed. Something soft that felt like home. She’d press a kiss to his forehead and pull the covers up to his chin and ask him if he’d said his prayers that night. He doesn’t remember the lyrics anymore, and he knows if he did, it wouldn’t feel like home ever again. 

It’s late at night and if he shuts his eyes, Alex can focus on Luke’s arm around his shoulder and Reggie’s thrown over his stomach, Julie’s dark curls pressing against his cheek. They’re all asleep, and the studio is eerily quiet; he can hear a draft coming in from the bottom of the door, and the ticking of an old clock that’s been on the wall since 1993. He remembers the day they got that clock. It was old and dusty even when they bought it from the corner of a thrift shop. Bobby claimed that they had to have some sort of way to tell the time when they were rehearsing, and Luke never replaced the batteries in his watch. Alex blinks slowly, inhaling the scent of the night, crisp and warm. His fingers are curled around the pin on the lapels of his suit jacket, trembling slightly. He traces the ridges in the cross with his nail and it feels heart achingly familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It doesn’t make any sense. 

He hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy with the worries of escaping the club and crossing over and then the joy of being free. But now it’s prodding at every nook and cranny in his mind, pulling at memories and things that are too compressed and faded to be called memories, but too real to be anything else.

Alex blinks roughly and suddenly he’s ten years old, sitting, cramped, at the end of the pew, with his little sister asleep against his shoulder.

“...that man shall not lay with man...” 

Alex doesn’t quite know what it means, but the way he says it feels like his voice is boring directly into Alex’s soul. He picks at the frayed edges of his shoelaces and exhales slowly. Murmurs of assent course throughout the church. His mother, his father, his sunday school teacher, Mr and Mrs. Daniels from across the street, everyone. He wants to ask his mother what the pastor means by this, but suddenly he blinks.

Alex is back in the studio, breath ragged like sandpaper. He digs his nails into his palm, stomach churning at the lack of sensation. If he were still alive, he’d open his hand to reveal purple crescents, but he’s not. He’s not alive and maybe that’s for the best, his parents are probably happier without him tainting their reputation. He closes his eyes, trying to erase the memories.

He’s 12. His room is cold and his cheeks are streaked with fresh tears. He cups his hands over his ears, begging the noise to go away. It’s all so, so much. It’s trying to kill him, he’s sure of it. It’s punishment. He bites at his lip until it bleeds, tells himself he deserves it.

It’s the devil, that’s what his mom would say. ‘Satan has wormed his way into your mind.’ But that’s the problem isn’t it? It feels real, it feels like him. It’s his fault, it’s his fault, it’s all his fault.

That’s the night he creates The Plan. The Plan is to marry a nice girl, a church girl with blond ringlets and rosy cheeks and a dainty smile. Maybe he’d learn to love her one day, maybe if he tried hard enough. Deep down he knows he can’t, but the idea of living a lie sounds better than the alternative. White picket fence, 2 kids, and maybe a dog. He’d be just like his parents and try his hardest to ignore the heartache.

The Plan doesn’t work out. 

Alex is tired. Tired of remembering. Tired of not remembering. Tired of the cold metal against his palm, mocking him. If he squeezes hard enough, maybe it’ll turn to dust in his hand. Maybe it’ll melt, and burn a welt in his skin, a permanent mark that should hurt but can’t no matter how much he wants it to.

He closes his eyes, wonders how he can cry. He shouldn’t even have tear ducts.

“...that none of you have had any sinful desires recently?”

Oh he’s 15 now, he’d forgotten this one.

A chorus of “no sir’s” echo through the cramped room. Alex’s voice feels disembodied, his throat dry. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. He waits with bated breath for someone to stand up and blurt it out, that Alex Mercer is a sinful liar who deserves eternal damnation.

“Remember your role as the man...” Whatever comes next is blurred. Alex shrinks into himself, blinking rapidly to hide his tears, begging for someone to take him, toss him into the ocean and let him drown. It’s what he deserves, anyway.

The studio is cold, despite it being warm outside. Alex pulls his jacket tighter around himself, every motion seeming to disturb the air.  Sometimes it feels like he’s causing a disturbance, just by being there. He remembers the dark room, remembers it all too well. It was suffocating and horrible, and he was sure it was hell. He’d curled in on himself and sobbed because his parents were right. He’d gone to hell and he’d dragged Luke and Reggie down with him.

But it wasn’t hell. And it still isn’t. Sometimes he’ll wake up in a cold sweat, feeling disoriented and numb, dreams filled with fire and screams of “It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s all. Your. Fault.” Alex exhales shakily, attempting to even out his breathing. He doesn’t know how he feels cold, he shouldn’t be able to. 

Alex pulls himself up, careful not to disturb his friends. They all look so peaceful and gentle, Alex wonders if that’s how he looks when he’s asleep, fragile and just… happy. He hesitates by the door, hand hovering over the handle. He doesn’t quite know where he wants to go, but there’s something pulsing in his chest telling him to leave.  

The beach is quiet. Alex pulls his shoes off and digs his feet into the sand, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can, just wanting to feel. The sand is cold and coarse beneath his bare feet. He pulls his gaze to the ocean, rocking rhythmically and shimmering beneath the dull moonlight. It feels like just yesterday that he was sitting, feet dangling off the pier while Luke and Bobby wrestled in the sand and Reggie read whatever book he’d nicked from the Barnes and Noble as of late. But there’s a neighborhood where the bookshop used to be, and someone else where Bobby should’ve been, and everything was different. 

Alex unpins the cross from over his heart, the weight shifting from his chest to his open palm. It’s silver, glinting in the light, and he wonders if it’ll break apart from the glow and swallow him whole. It doesn’t. Alex turns it over in his hand and runs his finger along the point, a cynical part of him wanting it to somehow draw blood that doesn’t even exist anymore.  

Everything in him is screaming to crush it beneath his heel and walk off, leaving the mangled metal on the boardwalk. But it’s like there’s still a tether wrapped tightly around his wrists, the other tied to the tall steeple on the church that had towered over him since before he could even walk. It’s knotted and disfigured and red-hot, burning him up from the inside. How can he feel so disconnected and so stuck at the same time? He wants to let go, to toss the last reminders of his parents and their influence in the sand, leave it to rot. But he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- 

“What do you want?” Bobby asks a sniffling Alex. He tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

Alex opens his mouth, shuts it. What does he want? It’s always been what his parents want, what the church tells him to do, stand rigid and smile wide. But no one’s ever asked what Alex wants. “I- I don’t know.” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“You want to drum, right? 

Alex nods fervently. “Yea, of course I do.”

“Then start with that.” Bobby squeezes his shoulder and slips from the studio, leaving Alex to clutch his backpack to his chest and ponder. 

Alex wants to be free. He realizes it finally, 25 years after Bobby asked. He turns the cross over in his hand once more; it feels like it’s left a mark over his chest, a scar. He takes a step back, swinging his arm behind his head, and he throws it. It lands in the ocean, sending a ripple through the water. And then it stills. Alex imagines it sinking down, down, down. He lets out a breathy laugh, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. There’s a scar running all across his soul, dark and prickly, but it’s healing.

---

stupid text limit. i had to turn the new post maker off to post this, so that’s fun. not looking forward to when i can’t turn it off.

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

there for you

summary: your best friend Bowen can’t help but draw some connections between you and your favorite show. 

word count: 2k

warnings: heavy spoilers for New Girl. like, its basically the premise of the fic

note from the writer: here’s a link to a tweet with the scene im talking about in this fic, its from the episode “Oregon” (season 4 ep 16). shoutout to @bqstqnbruin​ for finding it for me

Bowen had long since stopped asking to come over before showing up on your doorstep. Usually, he’d send a ‘are you home?’ text to make sure you were around, before heading to your apartment for whatever reason he had in mind.

The latest text had come in twenty minutes ago, so you knew he was going to show up soon.

Like clockwork, you heard a knock on your front door and Bowen greeting your roommates before your bedroom door opened. He was grinning, wide as ever, and you opened your arms for a hug from your position laying in bed, under the covers and in the middle of a New Girl marathon.

“Scoot over.” Bowen grins, barely giving you enough time to react before dropping on top of you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You paused the show, not wanting to miss anything despite being on your third rewatch.

You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was beating. If he knew just how much his touch affected you, how many feelings you were harboring from him.

“What’s up?” You asked, pushing away any thoughts about your massive crush on your best friend as you tried to get to the bottom of why he showed up out of the blue. It wasn’t the first time he had done so, but he always had a reason.

“I wanted to see you. Practice was rough.” He mumbled in the crook of your neck. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, how they fell past his lips so easily. Those words made you think that maybe your feelings weren’t so one sided, that there was a chance for you to be even happier than you already were with your best friend.

“You’re going to make me blush.” You teased, downplaying the fact that he really did manage to fluster you. Bowen snorted, squeezing you tightly once more instead of responding to your comment. An easy moment of silence passed, one that wasn’t stifling or awkward and it reminded you once more just how much you enjoyed being around Bowen. Subconsciously, one of your hands threaded through his hair. “I like it when your hair is longer like this.”

Your words were punctuated by a tug on his roots and though he didn’t say anything, he hummed contentedly. You worried that maybe he’d be able to hear the hammering of your heart or he’d know that the smile on your face wasn’t because of your platonic love for him. You feared that he would know—know how much you loved him and know that you had been hiding your feelings for so long. But you couldn’t let yourself think too much about that, you couldn’t let yourself overthink and ruin one of your closest friendships, so you tactfully changed the subject.

“Are we napping or watching my show?” You asked, though you had a pretty good idea what his answer would be.

“Nap, please.” He mumbled, and you could never deny him, especially when he was acting so sleepy and adorable, so you agreed easily. You both shifted your positions slightly, you trying to find the comfiest spot and him climbing under the covers with you, but eventually you both melted into your mattress, Bowen’s head still buried in the crook of your neck.

Bowen tried to stay awake a little longer; to tell you about his morning and the practice he had just come from that had drained his energy completely. But before long, his words were slurring together and when he stopped mid sentence, you knew he had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your fingers carding through his hair.

You tried to stay up too, to relish in the feeling of being in his arms. But you knew that pretending like it meant something more than it did was only going to break your heart more, so soon after he dozed off you closed your eyes and followed suit.

You were the first one to wake up, a combinatin of Bowen’s weight on you becoming slightly uncomfortable and the need to use the bathroom, so you did your best to climb out from underneath him without waking him. You thought you had made it out clear, but the moment your feet hit the floor Bowen was stirring from behind you.

“Where are you going?” He mumbled, causing you to halt your movements. It was far from the first time you had heard his gravelly voice just after he woke up, but it never failed to make your heart race. You swore you could listen to him talk forever, which was a good thing, since he never seemed to be able to stop talking.  

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You told him, finally standing to your feet. When you turned back around, Bowen was already watching you with tired eyes that made your heart clench. God, you were so gone for him.

You slipped out of the room without saying anything more, not trusting yourself to not blurt out just exactly how his smile made you feel. When you returned, he was sitting up against your headboard, your laptop open on his lap as he queued up the episode you had been watching before he arrived.

“New Girl again?” Bowen teased when he spotted you enter the room. You playfully rolled your eyes at him, climbing back into your spot beside him on the bed. You mirrored his position, though you dropped your head against his shoulder.

“It’s a good show. Plus, Jess and Nick’s relationship is my favorite.” You told him decidedly, like you had a dozen times before. The relationship between Jess and Nick truly was somehting you strived for—friends that were always in love with each other, no matter the problems that arised and even when they were broken up they did their best to keep the other happy.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, shifting slightly so that his arm was around you and he could hold you closer to his side. “What episode are we on?”

“Oregon.” You started, knowing you’d have to catch him up on more than just the episode name. “Jess, Cece, and the guys go to Portland because Jess’ dad is getting married. Jess’ boyfriend, Ryan, was supposed to show up but since he lives in England he said it wouldn’t make sense for him to be there. So, Nick’s trying to make Jess feel better because he secretly loves her and I just need them to get back together.”

“Don’t they end up together though?” Bowen asks, trying to recall as much about the show as he could. It might not have been one of his personal favorites, but he knew you loved it, so that was enough for him to try and follow along.

“Yeah, but they aren’t right now.” You confirm. Before Bowen could ask anymore questions, you pressed play on your laptop and continued where you left off. Jess and the group had just arrived at her childhood home, only to find her mom ready to greet Ryan, who wasn’t there. The scene played on, with Nick telling Jess the hard truth that Ryan bailing wasn’t okay.

You could feel Bowen’s eyes on you as the scene changed to Nick comforting Jess in her room. Giggling at the Jordan Catalano joke, you tried your best to focus on the screen and not the piercing blue eyed gaze that seemed to be studying your face. And, like you always did when you got to this scene, you bit your lip to supress a grin as Nick delivered his next line.

“The only thing that matters is that the guy is there for you when you need him. Otherwise, you’re dating a wall.”

“Are you even paying attention, Bow? That’s like, my favorite line. What I wouldn’t give to have someone love me the way Nick loves Jess.” You sighed, settling further against Bowen as the episode continued on. He didn’t say anything in response, other than a quiet hum, but for the rest of the episode you could practically hear the gears turning inside his head as he turned his attention to the screen.

Netflix automatically continued on to the next episode, but as soon as the intro started Bowen’s hand shot out and paused the show. You looked at him curiously; the two of you usually got through at least a couple of episodes whenever you hung out like you were then.

“You know…” Bowen started, trailing off before he finished his thought. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, and it was clear that what he wanted to say was on the tip of his tongue so you stayed silent while he found his words. “I’m always there for you.”

You felt your heart stop beating and skip three beats all at once. You weren’t sure where he was going with his train of thought, but if you had to guess you would be getting your hopes up. Because there was absolutely no way that he felt the same for you that Nick does for Jess.

“Yeah, you are…” You breathed, trying to get him to meet your gaze but instead he stayed focused on your comforter pulled over both of your laps. The hand that wasn’t around your shoulders was toying with the fabric, and in a bid to calm him down enough to get him to say what he needed you slipped your hand into his. Bowen drew in a steadying breath and finally met your gaze, a dozen and one emotions swirling behind his eyes.

“I love you, you know.” He said firmly, like there was no question about it in the slightest and not the very words you had been dying to hear from him for years. You nodded, unable to form words but not wanting to leave him hanging.

You supposed you did know that he loved you. He showed it in his blatant affection and the frequent texts about how his life was going. He cared for you, there was no doubt about it, but you had never let yourself believe that he meant anything more than friendship. And now he was offereing everything you’d ever wanted on a silver platter.

“Bowen,” You started, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him just how much you loved him back. Instead, you moved the hand that wasn’t wrapped up in his to rest on Bowen’s jaw, turning his head just slightly so that you could press your lips to yours in a long awaited kiss that stole your breath.

Kissing Bowen felt so much better than what you imagined. The angle was a little odd and your neck was craned to face him, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You’d share a thousand more awkwardly positioned kisses if it meant you got to be with Bowen.

You were the first to pull away, but you didn’t move far, wide grins on both of your faces as you took in the events of the past few moments. Your friendship was definitely changed, and in place was a relationship that you had been hoping for.

“I love you, too.” You finally mumbled. You wanted to tell him how you had loved him from the moment you met, how he made you fall in love with him with each and every day, but for the moment all that mattered was he knew you loved him just the same as he loved you.

“I hope, or else this is going to be awkward.” He mumbled playfully, leaning in again to close the distance between the two of you. You couldn’t help but chuckle against him, your hand slipping from his jaw to curve around the back of his neck in order to deepen the kiss.

Bowen was the Nick to your Jess, and not a day went by that you weren’t greatful for him.

[neithrain]

kanej physical contact headcanons

*for the record, i have not read king of scars or rule of wolves, only six of crows and crooked kingdom. i’ve also watched the netflix show. this is all just thoughts squeezed from my brain juices for your entertainment

nearly two years

that’s how long it takes for kaz to be able to initiate an embrace

by the end of crooked kingdom, he’s held inej’s hand in his own ungloved grip

two years later, he can finally wrap her arms around her without every nerve in his body screaming to get away

there were moments of remarkable improvement, and then relapses where it seemed he was regressing back into the worst depths of his fears

days where he felt he could hold her hand for hours and others where he could barely let her stand close without being on edge

the random, unpredictable nature of it all demolished every sense of stability his gloves and aversion to touch had gifted him

omitting all physical contact in one’s life was so much simpler and required so much less thought, and his days had just gotten so much harder

but he figured if he had somehow adapted before, he would just have to do it again

inej never pushed or pressured him, but she never coddled him either

and he loved her so much for it

any moments where kaz was struggling to maintain their contact, any doubts cut into his face were only met with patient neutrality from her

her unchanging, steady dark eyes were all that kept him sane sometimes

no irritation, no expectations, no pity, no gentleness

a stare so clear it was a blank slate, an empty page where he could write new stories

perhaps even a story of a man who deserved her

but those days where he reached out first, where he intiated a new touch, those were days where her eyes crinkled as she smiled

sometimes it would take hours, maybe even days of preparing himself for a new wall to tear down, a new piece of armor to remove

other times, he would let his sense of adrenaline take over and force himself to step past his comfort zone

and then inej would readily meet him halfway

one evening, she had been sitting near him on his desk

it was the same sort of conversation they’d had dozens of times before where they planned a new mission. she had tracked down a particularly elusive slaver in ketterdamn and she needed backup to corner them

but now, she was just closer

he had been completely fine with it. it was inej, and there was a familar comfort in her proximity

soon though, after the plan was agreed on, she didn’t seem intent on moving unless he asked her to, and kaz had desperately wanted to take the advantage of the quiet, almost peaceful moment and do something affectionate

a hug was still far too much, but he felt only holding her hand was cheap and easy

“inej,” he murmured

she looked up with those same weighted eyes that anchored him, expectant, waiting for him to finish

so, he extended his bare hand out to cover hers, and raised his other to her cheek

he nearly yanked his hand away upon the heat of her skin, as if she would burn him somehow

but it was just that, the heat, that drove him to settle his hand there

it was warmth. life. better yet, it was hers

she deserved this. deserved affection from the man who loved her without him pulling his hand away in disgust

she deserved a touch laced with trust and free of blood

and maybe, just maybe, he deserved her dark eyes melting in golden candle light instead of moon-soaked ocean water

“we’ll find them, inej,” he told her, taking a deep breath to calm his pulse. “you’ll find them, and they’ll wish they were lost out at sea instead”

she stared up in slight wonder

and then, she grinned

her hand flipped over to intertwine with his, and she watched him give the smallest smile as well

it betrayed his continued effort, and he did not try to hide it

but he was winning

the control was reversing, settling into his hand, and they both knew it

it was progress. visible. palpable.

inej would have thanked the saints, but for once, she felt there was nothing to thank them for

this was kaz. kaz in his entirity.

she was having him without armor, and it was unimagineably better than never having him at all

the weight of his hand was so light it was almost eerie

how could a man named “dirtyhands” have a touch this gentle?

“i know we will,” she said, still smiling, “we’ll find them, and they’ll be drowning before they see us”

“that’s my girl”

one year later, and that moment they shared is haunting kaz

it had been haunting him every day, every time when inej bid him good night before heading off, every moment when he wished he could hug her but couldn’t

he thought he could never see her happier than when she embraced her parents that day at the docks

if he could free her from trafficking, save her from a volcra attack with his cane, and find her parents for her, he could bring himself to do this

he expected the moment he finally hugged her to be something momentous or tragic

momentous as in she somehow managed to slaughter every single slaver in the entirity of ketterdam, or tragic as in she was crying

those were really the only two extremes he could possibly imagine himself finally biting the bullet for

but like when he’d held her cheek, it was another quiet, solitary moment with her

inej had been exhausted from a busy day

their conversation had run dry when they silently realized and agreed that neither of them wanted to talk but both still wished to be in each other’s presence

so they sat on the couch together in front of the fireplace

inej still kept an inch of distance between them in case it was a bad day for kaz, all except for their hands

if nothing else, he had gotten much better at that

the fire had burned into pitiful flames still desperately clinging to the charred wood, and both of them knew it needed fuel

neither were willing to get up and get it though

it would have been uncomfortably dark had they been with literally anyone else

after they had survived the fold though, anything that wasn’t ink-black darkness failed to unsettle them

kaz looked down at their hands, and with much more peace of mind than he ever could have imagined, decided it was time

without a word, he inched closer to inej, turned to face her, and slowly guided her into his arms

he felt her breath still, her eyelashes tickle his neck as she looked up at him in silent shock

his spine stiffened out of instinct, and his heart began thundering

but his touch never wavered

the oddest disconnect between his body and mind raged within him

he had never felt so physically threatened yet so mentally peaceful

his cheek rested on her head, and her breath returned as she gently hooked her arms around his back in return

he knew she felt his heartbeat. knew she felt the unsteady intakes of his breath against her chest

but inej, his wraith, truly the treasure of his heart, smiled against his collarbone and simply rubbed her hand over his back in the most comforting manner possible

she embraced him like he was the most heartbroken man in the world somehow

and he loved her for it

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief. 

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).  

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Chapter 1

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (maybe mature later)

tags:  Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

(The way overdue long-form version of the Foster Sib AU I wrote for @szajnie for Secret Santa 2020.)

music: Asynchronous With You by burokkurubeats & my playlist

He wasn't the first child.

Somehow he had expected to be.

A girl his age, age six, and her older cousin had already been living here for a year now.

They had family, they were just… deemed unfit.

Maybe they'll take them back, when they get their act together. He doesn't know. He only knows he doesn't have the luxury of hope that they do.

Nobody was coming back to get him.

And he had nowhere to go back to.

The foster lady with the ruby red eyes showed him his bedroom.

At first, Naruto thought Hinata and Neji were close, so much so that no one could ever be closer.

Then he thought it was their tactic to keep others out, self-preservation in blood.

Hinata was nice enough, but she never strayed far from Neji.

That was because he never let her.

She wasn't just fiercely loyal to him. She was scared of him.

He tried to get Neji in trouble. Kurenai-obachan needed to know. But Hinata stopped him. She told him not to split them apart. That she didn't mind Neji bossing her around. She would never be okay if she didn't know where her cousin was.

So he tried. But it was hard. He still picked fights with Neji.

That didn't make Hinata happier, either.

He still thinks it's Neji's fault when she finally breaks down, telling them both off before running to her room.

He runs after her, but she won't let him in.

He goes to his room and talks to her through his wall. He has to press himself flat against it, straining to hear any sound.

Could she hear him, too?

"I'll leave Neji alone, okay?" It's a bitter promise, because it makes him feel like he's surrendered when he did nothing wrong. But part of him also feels tired of this pattern day in and day out. He'd rather spend his time better.

The silence stretched passed the point of comfort, and he pictured tomorrow, a tomorrow where Hinata may hate him. Enough to shun him in his own home. And would he really do what he's always done to others to her? Would he really go that far for attention?

His unconscious concerns spilled out, running through his fingers before he could stuff the words back in and swallow them. "Hinata… can I bug you instead?" He flinches and freezes, and he waits.

It's faint, but he heard her.

"Sure," she said.

His shoulders lowered as he slouched down the wall, the tension leaking from his body and he smiled.

Their early years would be shaped by a secret language shared between the two of them from that moment on, where a pinch on the arm and a retaliatory swat was a polite exchange in the morning. Where a "missing" item from their bedrooms was an excuse to search the house together, and where a stolen item was an invitation to enter each other's bedrooms. Hinata really liked to show him her new collection of pressed flowers, and he really liked to show her his latest Gachapon figurine. Whenever that happened, it was usually one of those new things that went "missing" shortly after.

It wasn't that Kurenai-obasan didn't spoil him as much as them, he could have new things all the time, too. But she hadn't been planning on taking him, she hadn't been prepared for him. If he wanted more things, Hinata would have to have less.

And the time he could spend with her was more than enough for him.

____________________________

Halfway through their grade school years their secret games waned. Being in the same grade helped to keep them in touch throughout the day, but at lunch time she was Neji's, and after school she was Neji's. That's just how it was.

But they were maturing. Their experiences were expanding. They had so much to talk about.

But how could they? It had to be at bedtime. And because it had to be bedtime, they had to be quiet.

He got the idea to drill a hole into their bedroom wall so that way they could easily whisper and not get caught.

That was one of his first thrills: vandalism.

"I think you mean 'home improvement'," Hinata giggled.

He had to process that.

He never realized until then that he still hadn't considered this his home.

Thanks to Kurenai-obasan, he had food in his belly and a roof over his head. He had a bed, some video games, and a safe route to school.

Thanks to Neji, he had a model of masculinity. Not a role model, mind you, but a model nonetheless. Some things about Neji were cool, even admirable. And other things he would never do in his life. They were both abandoned, confused and alone, sure. But it was always annoying how Neji couldn't help but look back. Naruto always had to look forward.

Maybe the way they both did things was equally imperfect.

He smiled to himself, as this is where he had to thank Hinata, for she kept them both grounded and present. Because that's how she lives her life, like each day is a gift not to be squandered.

Who cares about being hurt yesterday? Who cares about what hasn't happened yet?

Right now, at this moment, he was home.

This was his home.

____________________________

Girls at school always cupped their ears when they were eavesdropping. They cup their mouths when they're telling secrets or bad-mouthing others.

Hinata cups her ear around the hole in their wall when he's telling her stories. And she cups her mouth when she's telling him hers.

Her ears are sensitive, so he tries to watch his volume. He forgets himself when he gets excitable.

Her breath tickles and teases a memory from his brain, one that fills him with both sadness and relief.

When he tries to sleep, he searches for the root of this feeling.

The next day on television, there's a mother murmuring her baby to sleep.

He adopts that image as his own forgotten memory.

And the following night, Hinata's soothing whispers confirm that he had a mother once, and she used to sing him to sleep.

____________________________

Hinata's a wimp.

He loves the girl, but at school she is a gosh damn trouble magnet.

He jumps in front of her bullies, fists blazing, and he loses.

A lot.

But he gets to pick fights again. He gets to be cool from time to time. And when he gets better, he becomes the best. He gets a reputation!

By the time they reach fifth grade, he doesn't even have to raise a fist.

A well-aimed death glare is enough.

When Neji's graduation forces the two cousins apart for the first time in their lives, the older Hyuuga undergoes a personality shift.

He expresses legitimate concern for Hinata.

Maybe it's been there all along.

They're both standing on the empty landing just outside of their elementary's gymnasium where the remainder of the proceedings were taking place. Neji's stare, heavy with expectations and ultimatum, bore down on his little shoulders.

"You're the only one I can ask."

"Yeah, don't worry. I got this!" Naruto flashed his patent overconfident grin, and this time not a hint of condescension passed across Neji's face.

His heart thumped wildly when he and Neji returned to the gymnasium, with Neji returning to his position amongst the other students in the center of the room. Family members lined up against the walls in foldable metal chairs, a spattering of pride and loss playing out across their faces; Their children were growing up.

When Naruto took his seat, he stole a glance at Hinata on the other side of Kurenai-obasan. Her gentle profile seemed to unlock something inside of him. Waves upon waves of warmth filled his body, pulling him in deeper into a languid pool of contentment.

He would be her protector from now on.

He would be her brother.

____________________________

He never noticed how their paths lead each other further and further apart.

Their daily routines had remained the same.

Aside from a few exciting developments.

Like Kurenai reconnecting with a childhood friend. The man was a Marine and a chainsmoker, but he seemed cool.

Or how Naruto happened to find a collection of discarded skin mags behind the pool storage room at school. They now safely occupied the space beneath his bed.

There was also the neighborhood shrimp squad of grade-schoolers who loved to call him 'Boss' whenever he came over to play.

Or that time he was hanging out with Sasuke, and unusually the stoic lad had insulted a group of delinquents before he did at the local arcade.

Sasuke may have taken out four guys by the time Naruto took out one, but he still got the win.

But way, way before all of that something had really surprised him: Hinata becoming Deputy Class Rep to their own Haruno Sakura.

She was volunteered for the position based on her equally outstanding grades. Or, at least that's what they had believed.

Over time, it became apparent that they had volunteered Hinata to be Sakura's foil. Hinata was considerate and much more approachable. If the students wanted something, they went straight to Hinata first.

But then her unchanged nature became more detectable.

Like he's said before, Hinata's a wimp.

She crumbles at the slightest disapproval.

She implodes when she's convinced she could do better. When she thinks she's failing.

So halfway through their first year, she started to get abused. Girls and boys alike tried to strongarm her into making their lives 'better'. Making her fetch their lunches and dumping cleaning duty on her every day, then throwing her words back at her when she tried to complain. They'd say, 'But it's what you signed up for', and 'Isn't this your job? Don't you care about your classmates?'.

Somehow Sakura never noticed. He tried to tell her, but she didn't take him seriously. He tried to tell the teachers, but they acted like he had no evidence.

Liars! They just didn't want to get involved! What good are teachers if they don't help their students?!

Some weeks later, the following exams were posted outside the classroom.

Sakura was number two, just below Ino. They were always competing for the top, always unevenly dethroning the other.

Hinata was number three. Always suspiciously number three. And he was dead last.

Hinata could rise to the top, but she never tries.

He always tries, but he can never seem to rise.

He realized then that he hasn't been doing enough as her brother.

Compared to her, he has no future, no potential. It wouldn't be a waste if he took on her burdens.

He can take abuse, because during those first six years at a state-run orphanage, abuse was all he knew.

He realized what he had to do. Resiliency was one of his best traits, after all.

The following day, he took Hinata's place as the class slave. He fetched their lunches, got them drinks whenever they asked. The only thing they never asked him to do was their homework. Because… yeah.

Nobody knew they lived together.

If they did, well, he might've been forced to copy Hinata's assignments all the same.

He never noticed how their paths lead them apart, how their daily routines boxed them into two different social spheres never to overlap.

He was still her brother. Her protector.

But by high school, he'd also become the embodiment of trouble itself.

And he couldn't let that stuff disrupt her life.

____________________________

Naruto’s sprawled belly-down on the sofa playing on his Vita handheld when Kurenai-obasan calls out to him as she’s emerging from the laundry room.

“Naruto, I’ve stared at this hamper for three weeks,” She drops the hamper at her feet with a weighty thump for emphasis. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“I just forgot.” He surreptitiously powers off his game and abandons his handheld on the sofa as he ambles off the couch.

He’s dramatic when he slouches his shoulders and drags his feet, head lolling backwards in anguish. He hauls the hamper back inside the laundry room. He doesn’t look when he opens the washing machine and dumps his clothes into the drum. But the pile is sticking up. He tries to smash it all down, but he can’t. It’s already full.

“Crap.” He scoops out his month-old laundry in four armfuls and disposes them at his feet. He reaches in to grab the damp garments sticking to the sides of the drum, then begins to throw them into the dryer. At least that’s empty.

He doesn’t notice the butter yellow hoodie with white polka dots on the kangaroo pocket. Or the frilly linen top that needs to be dried on the line. Or the no-show socks with rabbits on them.

Once the drum was cleared out, he hurled his fermented clothes into the washer and started up both machines.

He went back to his game for several hours. Kurenai had to remind him to dry his clothes as she delivered the dryer’s contents to Hinata’s room. This was because Hinata was at cram school.

As he moved his items to the dryer, he recalled how Neji had done cram school too before moving onto a prestigious high school deep in the city center.

Naruto never knew whether to be jealous or not. School work was utterly useless and he didn’t envy the workload of overachievers, but maybe that was only because he couldn’t handle it. Maybe if he were smarter, he’d appreciate it better. Or maybe he’d figure out more ingenious ways to skip it all.

He played his game in the laundry room, waiting for the final ding to go off. He used the same dirty hamper to gather up his clean clothes and dragged it inside his room, where he promptly dumped it all out on his bed. Fresh laundry was intoxicating and he didn’t fight the urge to belly flop into the softener-drenched warmth.

He deeply inhaled as he sank into the heat. His cheek felt particularly nice against this satin material.

His left eye opened a peek. Vanilla and lavender stripes met his eye, with a rose lace and ribbon trim along the waistband.

He shot upright, his face no longer hot from the laundry, but hot with horrified embarrassment. He stared at the garment like it might come to life, jump on him and eat his face. It hadn’t so far.

‘It should be fine to pick them up, right?’ He thought with his frozen hand stretched out.

Why was he acting weird about this? They used to mix their laundry up all the time when they were younger. It’s actually how Hinata acquired a love of hoodies in the first place, because she loved to wear the beige one Obasan got him. She can pull off softer colors, but he can’t, so it was easily hers from that moment on.

He plucked up her panties by their corners and held it away, like it were an envelope full of Ricin, and he gazed at it mindlessly. Somehow they were exactly what he expected Hinata to wear, they were girly and cute.

Pale skin flashed before his eyes, a taboo image of Hinata in these panties, lifting her pleated uniform skirt up had startled him and he dropped the undergarments with a yelp.

Did he really just imagine her that way?

Naruto tried to smack the stupid from his mind until his cheeks burned with physical pain, then with everything he could muster, he snatched up the pair and ran for her bedroom, adding it unceremoniously to her hamper of clean clothes.

He pretended to be asleep by the time she got home.

He ignored the sweet voice that slid through the hole in the wall until she gave up and stopped calling him.

There was simply no way he could hold a conversation with her after that experience.

And to think he had to rely on his skin mags to purge him of his sin.

____________________________

Weightlifting was doing wonders for him.

For starters, it was taking his mind off of his libido.

For another, his physique was changing. He was starting to sprout up, too. Hinata’s former bullies were starting to learn some new feelings, like reluctance and fear. They eventually moved onto the freshman to enslave, leaving him alone to finally live his final year of middle school the way he always wanted.

The more he did weights, the more girls started to look his way, not just at Sasuke-teme.

Life was looking good!

Is what he thought when he was hanging out on the roof with Sasuke and two Ojou-gyaru types. One girl was straddling Sasuke while Naruto spooned the other girl from behind.

A dire thought hit him when he realized only six months remained until graduation. A choice he had been overlooking was rapping its knuckles against his temple, and he could hardly shoo it away.

“Hey.” Naruto turned his head towards Sasuke.

“Hn?”

“Where are you going for High School?”

Sasuke turned his head up towards the sky. He was pensively silent. Then he shrugged. “I’m going to stay here.”

“So you’re going to Konoha Normal High?”

“Just like everyone else.” Sasuke said.

‘Everyone else’ didn’t include Hinata, and he was supposed to stick close to her.

How suspicious would it be if he chose to follow her to her high school?

What if he couldn’t? What if she was following the same path as Neji?

Neji would be there until her senior year. Was his responsibility to the both of them over already?

Naruto would later get a text from Obasan that she would be spending the night with Asuma.

K-Obasan: There’s curry udon in the fridge.

He narrowed his eyes at the text.

Just because you add noodles to leftover curry doesn’t make it a Naruto-approved dinner!

“Udon’s not even the same thing!”

His steps slowed in the school corridor. It was enough for his rooftop date to catch up with him.

“Your face looks weird when you’re glum.” She giggled as she poked his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I just realized I’m about to go home and no one’s going to be waiting for me.”

“Oh?” She circled her arms around his own and leaned in close. “Good for us, huh?”

His eyes widened with realization. A goofy grin stretched across his face, the corners curling lasciviously.

‘Yeah,’ he thought, ‘I’m owed this.’

____________________________

Author Note: I'm forgoing the one-shot because I still don't have that kind of discipline. ;D I'll definitely try to finish this short story to the end. I had received some good title suggestions for this story, but I ended up going with another song name because I can't seem to do anything else. ¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯

I'm still going to try to adhere to the canon of the original fic to the best of my ability. I would totally declare this new canon, honestly, but then it'd be a Secret Dating fic with smut and it would never line up with what I already wrote. 😓

Anyways, I hope you liked this so far!