#perhaps if anyone had some soft little thoughts about my boys… I would heal faster… perhaps

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Guess who has fucking pneumonia??

It’s me, in case you wanted an answer

[bonnymori]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲

Word count: 2760+ (i'll try to keep bigger lengths such as this one!)

Synopsis: You meet a new classmate who's working along Nanami, you think he's fun to be around, it stands the same to him about you. Later, feelings unravel.

Contents/Warnings: (1) Itadori Yuuji x gn!reader (2) FLUFF, TONS OF FLUFF - and some comfort (3) With the small participation of... Ino Takuma!! I really like him too, that's why <33333 (4) This is pretty platonic, but also not? (5) Ending turned sorta cliché... but I liked it u.u

A/N: This boy made me run rampant... to fhe point it's not single attraction anymore I just wish him happiness (smh if only my parents knew...) also next post will be Toji's fic pt. 2! Y'all see the first part is almost reaching 100 kudos????? I'M SO HAPPY EHSODJWKDKSJD- thanks for all the new followers and the support!! <33

Ever since his fake death, Itadori has been training alone with the help of Gojo - and now, he works along a freshly new face, who belongs to a senior, founds out ex-salaryman named Nanami Kento. He's far a thousand times more strict than Gojo. Itadori doesn't really likes the change, because Nanami is a person he can't get along. This whole guy's appearance scream "work 4 life"; he has proved different, now he screams "work is shit - but I gotta do it because others won't".

They've just finished cleansing the outside of a movie theater off a few curses, when Itadori hears shouting from far behind them. Two figures approach, waving excessively. He quickly picks on Nanami's tired sigh beside him.

"Nanami! We figured out you'd be here! Our mission has been finished and we wanted to catch up to have lunch together!" A male clad in a full black outfit shouts, he has brown hair and a beanie on top of his head, looking quite content.

The other person simply trots next to him in silence, approaching with a friendly smile. They notice Itadori faster than the male, smile widening and quickly waving hello, suddenly eager to reach up to them. The gesture makes the pink haired boy perk up, curious to why the other person looked so joyful. His question is easily answered, when they tug on the man's sleeve and motion to him.

"Ino, we have a third buddy!" The dude looks at him with widened eyes. "So nice to meet you, I'm Y/N L/N! It's great to see new faces around!"

Itadori smiles at your energy, knowing already he would click with you very well.

"I'm Ino Takuma, sorry for not noticing you before! Your uniform looks cool." Itadori exchanges a few compliments with Ino, before the man turns to talk with Nanami, leaving him and you together.

"Yes! I'm Sukuna's vessel, Itadori Yuuji-desu! My type of woman is Jenn-"

You turn to him. "So, are you a first year?"

"Geh? Weren't you dead though?!"

"I was!- I am!- Please keep secret."

"Okay!"

"Ahem." Nanami coughs, drawing attention. "I requested you two to not come after me today. Itadori here is the reason why."

"That's no problem, we're very capable of keeping secrets." You threw your arm over Itadori's shoulder, him nodding along with you.

"Oh really, then remember to keep quiet about it. I'll let this slide." The group of students nervously at Nanami's intimidating tone. "But, I'll get to have my break alone."

"Gah!" Ino exclaimed, watching Nanami walk away; he also left the responsability of taking care of Itadori for you two, leaving without a word. "It really had to be today, when Nanami would take us to his favorite bakery..."

"Crybaby." You teased. "Itadori here can't go outside where anyone can see him, he's dead. So, we were to order food either way because he shouldn't be left out."

"Augh okay, it would be unfair."

"So, where are you staying Itadori?"

"At Gojo's state!"

"Whoa, I've never been there before." Ino commented, waiting as you sent a message to Ijichi to pick them up.

"He's my teacher, a very cool one!"

"I imagine! Ooookay, once we get there I'll get the food."

Itadori felt as his chest would burst of excitement, finally there was people around him again, he couldn't be less happy about it.

"Sharing is caring!"

Itadori laughed as you wrestled with Takuma for some fries, netflix long forgotten in the background, as watching the banter was way more entertaining. Most of the time, Ino rambled a lot about Nanami, while he rambled a lot about Gojo. The guy even showed him the cool scar under his beanie. He felt kinda upset after explaining the exchange was just temporary, his stay under Nanami's wing wasn't decisive, and therefore, he was more like a classmate than a partner.

Itadori also learned a lot about you. He was surprised to find out that you, although energetic, was the one to speak the lesser in conversations. His surprisement grew even bigger when you told him you're a exchange student from Kyoto, arriving Tokyo about the same month as him - thankfully, you were to say for good.

Conversations flowed easily in the air, until a voice from the doorway barged in.

"Yuuji-kun! Don't forget about your lessons! Hi kids! Bye kids!" Gojo said playfully, throwing the familiar punching bear to Itadori before leaving.

"What's this thing?" Ino asked.

"It's to help me control my cursed energy. So while I watch the movies, if I don't charge it with cursed energy it punches me square in the face. I thought I had mastered this thing already, but he insist I keep training with it." Itadori grumbles.

"At least it's cute." You commented, taking a sip of your drink.

"Until it punches you in your face without warning!" The pink haired boy barks.

The talks died down, the three of you eating quietly when another movie is played on the screen. Itadori didn't bother reading the title, it was a plain one about a zombie apocalypse that got him extremely bored, yet he kept watching still so the plushie didn't punch him in the face again; he's been keeping a record since all his last cursed energy training lessons were a sucess to this day. When his head started nodding and eyelids dropping Itadori can't remember well, about fourty five minutes of movie perhaps? Make it fifty, the second slumber took over his body completely.

When he awoke once again, it was near midnight, the clock on the wall told him so. He also noticed a soft and warm surface supporting his head, figures, it's your shoulder he's resting into, he feels an arm around his own shoulders and your cheek placed upon his hair.

"Hey, it's late." You immediately notices he's awake, calling out softly. "You should sleep on your room, or something, better to your spine."

He chuckles when you poke his side. "But I'm comfortable here."

"I'm surprised, you just met me today, and now is sleeping on my shoulder."

"I'm not, that happens often to me."

"Sleeping on people's shoulders?"

"No! Making friends quickly." Itadori likes your gentle warmth, your hug, everything makes him feel at home. "I met two more people before you for two weeks, but they can't see me, because I'm dead."

"So I'll keep you company, that's my new mission."

His eyes widen at that, a oh so little blush covering the tip of his ears.

"For how many time I slept anyway?" He asks.

"About two- no, three hours. You missed two movies, and this one is about to end."

"And you stayed here the whole time?" He motions to your shoulder.

"Yep. That reminds me I gotta pee."

Itadori grumbles, but quickly lifts himself off you, respecting your needs. That gives him some time to look around, he notices Ino is gone, and the plushie sits quietly at the other side of the couch, unmoving.

"Y/N! How did you manage to make it quiet down?" He's beyond bafflet.

"...que."

"What!"

"I said!" You arrive quickly at the doorframe, hands still wet from when you washed them. "I used my innate technique."

"Oh! How is it like?"

"It's kinda funny, gimme a moment." You left to wipe off your hands, coming back in a second. "So, just like Shoko, I produce reverse curse energy, but it's quite different than hers, I can't heal people. That's why we often call it positive energy instead. I can use it to soothe off negative energy, so the bear has no cursed energy right now."

"How does it works on people?" He felt very curious about everything, asking away like a kid.

"Since everyone has negative energy, it just makes you sleepy really. But when it comes to curses it's really practical, I can either weaken it or, if the curse is like grade three or four, I can slap them off existence completely by wiping all their energy." You were naturally proud of having a such versatile power, your own energy swirling with pride around you.

"That sounds amazing! Is it why I fell asleep though?"

"Nah, only if I did it on purpose. I guess you were just tired, hope you don't mind I decided to let you rest today."

"No way, it was a good nap."

You nodded. "By the way, Ino left to attend to a drinking party, he paid for our food."

"Drinking? Is he old?"

"Yeah, he's twenty." You chuckled, already expecting that kind of reaction.

"No way! He looks young just like us!"

"That's totally my reaction after I learned he's twenty!"

After that day, you started visiting Itadori weekly to daily, after exchanging numbers he made a little group with you and Ino, naming it the "Nanami trio". But really, he exchanges more texts with you in private, be them memes, cool images he wish to share, etcetera. Although, Ino wasn't left excluded, he ofter brough his xbox to connect to Itadori's tv room and you all would spend hours playing together; he just didn't spend much time with both of you as much. And that was okay.

For a few days, your connection with Itadori died down when he didn't reply to your texts. They would remain unread for some time, the longest being half a day, until he would spam apologies then move on with the topic. That became a routine until one day when you came over to check on Itadori unnanounced, needin to ease off your worries about the boy, only to find him sobbing in the middle of a hallway, staring ahead and beyond, his back to you.

"Ita-?"

"Egh!" Startled, he scrambled to wipe his eyes, turning to you. "H-hey, um, hi."

"What happened?"

"I- he-" His eyes didn't met yours, knuckles white in a death grip. You notice he has a few bandages thrown over his face and arms. The way his shoulders are drawn, as if he wants to shrink into himself is something you've experienced before.

"Something hard to talk about?"

He nods almost immediately, head still facing down.

"It's alright, come with me." You reach for his hands, grimacing slightly when his forceful grip is now on your hand, yet you don't comment on it. He follows you through the state wordlessly.

You two stop on the same tv room, sitting down on the couch. You then guide his head to your shoulder, gently massaging his scalp with the free hand.

"It's alright."

Those two words are chanted like a prayer for the next half hour, at some point, Itadori twisted his body towards yours and unknowingly caged you between him and the sofa arm. He embraced you with a force you didn't have in you, like he didn't want to lose one another. Painful or not, not a muscle moved on your body. He needed a shoulder to cry on.

Thirty minutes passed like seconds, you peered down only to find the boy confortably napping against your bosom; at some point you just became the cold side of the pillow to him. That's alright. It brings you joy to be the mom friend anyways. So you decided to join the sleepland aswell, arms still secured around his shoulders and the back of his head.

It feels like the nap hasn't been long, though, because you can feel Itadori's grip loosening and therefore, you're awake.

"Sorry if I broke any bones, in advance."

"Wow, and you only warn me now."

He laughs at your comeback, hands still secured around your waist.

"I'm surprised you let me uh, cuddle you for comfort - and sleep. I don't understand it? You just make me sleepy." He rambled, keeping eye contact with you while his head still rests on your chest.

"That's a piece of cake when you have younger siblings who seek for you every night they get a nightmare."

"Does that mean I can come to you again if I have a nightmare?" There it is, his togepi-kirby cutesy face.

"Are you four?"

"That's mean!" Itadori blushed, squeezing you on his arms. "I like the contact. It puts me at ease."

"Mm, do you want to talk about it?"

He gulped. "No, not really."

Your peach haired friend remained silent, and so did you. It seems he doesn't intend in letting you go soon, or he just really forgot to mention it. It gives them time to think, your younger sisted used to do that sometimes, back in Kyoto.

"Y/N, wanna watch anything?"

"Sure, have you watched Parasyte before?"

"No, let's give it a try then!" Itadori glances at the remote, then back at you - making you confused over his hesitation to move. He notices you noticed it, chuckling nervously. "To be honest, I don't wanna let go."

"It's hurting my back."

"SORRY I'M SORRY!" He jumped away from you like a cat would jolt away from a cucumber, making you snicker.

"It's okay, I just wanted to change positions."

And to tease you, but he didn't need to know that part.

He glared at you with a small pout, typing the initials of Parasyte on the search bar. Outside his line of vision, you were grinning like a idiot, his sweeteness took a tow on you. All the people of Tokyo you met really held a way different spirit from your classmates in Kyoto, Itadori being the nicest of all. It's surprising him being Sukuna's vessel to begin with; being honest, you felt drawn by it.

"Y/N, it's startiiiiing." He cut your daydreaming short, slumping on your side and propping his head on your shoulder.

"This again?" You throw an arm around his shoulders, very much like the first time he cuddled himself on you.

"Don't blame me, you're the one who wanted to change positions. Guess I'll just make some alterations since I'm awake this time!" One of his arms went behind your back and circled your waist, hand resting at your hip.

"It's definely different, since the other time you drooled on me."

"Hhgh, okay okay! Let me enjoy this." For perhaps the actual first time, you're able to watch without exchanging words with one another.

And this time, it's you who's head loll to the side, nose buried on his soft rose perfumed hair. Itadori doesn't comment on it yet, his free hand moves under your legs to lift your whole body up efortlessly when he senses you have fallen asleep.

"I remember you said it's bad for my spine, I wouldn't mind it... yours however."

The boy makes a beeline to the guest room, he sighs when there is no choice but open the door with his foot. Inside, he places you carefully in the soft bed.

Before he could leave, a hand reaches up for his sleeve.

"Itadori," He turned, looking at you. "Make me company?"

He giggles softly - you think it sounds like a highschool girl. "You should start calling me by my first name!" Itadori rambles as he climbs on the bed, arms wrapping around your waist in a motion you're familiar with.

"Yuuji, I'm tired, let me sleep."

"But I wanna talk more..." He pouts. "Also, are we, um, dating?"

You wriggle around, bringing his head down to peck on his forehead, teasing. "Correction, I want to date you."

"Uh, oh." A blush coats his face so quickly, you'd say someone dumped a bucket of red paint on his face.

"Is that a no?"

"No!"

"So it is a no."

"Christ, will you stop teasing for a second, I'm trying to talk here." He makes an angry version of his togepi-kirby face, you can't help but grin.

"You amuse me, but okay. I'll do it for you."

"Thanks." He blinks, the blush slowly fading away. "You know, I lied, not about the contact, I like the contact nonetheless-"

His hand moves to play with yours, such as tapping his tips against yours, or meassuring the palms.

"-it's you who brings me comfort."

It's also your turn to blush, that line was seriously charming.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we're dating now." You respond, a little eagerly. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

This is the best person I could ask for, Itadori thinks, keeping his eyes open as yours shut during the kiss, whom I won't change for anything else in this world.

When you both separate, Itadori feels drowsy and sleepy. His face fits perfectly on your shoulder as always.

"Goodnight, my favorite person."

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (7) || atz

“So, you're saying you heard the voice of the sea monster.”

“Yes…” You say hesitantly, Seonghwa nodding encouragingly at you as you spill the beans to San. The healer's face is unreadable, inscrutable as he eyes you silently, fingers drumming over the side of his mug of tea.

“I can vouch for him.” Seonghwa speaks up but San shakes his head, setting down his drink with a thunk.

“It's not that I don't believe you, apprentice.” San's eyes are unnaturally sharp for such a soft person. He straightens his back, before giving you a pensive glance. “But for you to be able to hear the voice of a sea monster… what could it possibly mean?”

“Perhaps he is blessed similarly to Hongjoong?” Seonghwa suggests. The healer nods thoughtfully.

“That could be the case. We don't know who you were before you lost your memories, so that could well be the answer.” San explains, and you frown. You, blessed by a sea god?

“But I can't do that thing captain can… like making the ship move faster.” You try to get your point across. Apart from having heard the monstrous beast once, you're not much special anyway else. You have no voodoo magic thing about you, or any control over the wind. Hell, you can barely use a kitchen knife the right side up.

The cook ponders this thoughtfully. “Different people may be blessed different ways. It’s always a possibility you can consider-”

“Stowaway?” You jerk to your feet as a new voice comes from the door. There are two men standing in the doorway, much to your surprise. One you recognize, the lookout, Yunho, and the other seems vaguely familiar.

He’s at least half a head taller than you, with a rounded face and serious, deep brown eyes. He can’t be very old, but the way he carries himself is endearing, like a young boy trying to match up to his older peers.

“Are we interrupting anything, hyungs?” He asks, so seriously that you’re almost impressed for a moment. His face is stoic, waiting for a reply so earnestly you immediately feel an almost irrepressible urge to wrap him up in a massive hug and squish his cheeks. He’s dressed simply in a sky blue shirt with white strips over a white tee, tucked into black trousers. This seems to be standard clothing for most of the crew.

Ah, you remember where you’ve seen him before.

When you had been tied up on deck, you’d seen seen him working out on deck, doing an insane number of push ups, lifts, running back and forth the bow and stern until you had gotten tired just from watching him. He didn’t seem to exist within normal human limitations, doing sit ups with entire tree trunks or squats with other members of the crew twice his size on his back.

But it was his voice that left an impact on you the most. You had been battling a raging fever, agonizing pain and a terrible loneliness. One night, you had been in despair once again, wondering if you were going to be thrown to the sharks the next day or whether the captain would simply shoot you dead, when you had heard a voice singing.

“Born on the wrong side of the ocean With all the tides against you You never thought you'd be much good for anyone But that's so far from the truth I know there's pain in your heart And you're covered in scars Wish you could see what I do…”

Until now, you still don’t know what song it was, but it had lulled you out of your self pity and that night you had slept with a calm mind. Of course, the apple breaking had also helped to amuse you greatly, but the way he had sung, so soulful and with so much emotion, was something you couldn’t forget.

You wanted to thank him, but how?

“No, we were just chatting about how our stowaway’s cooking is getting better.” San smiles, and you whip around to stare at your master in shock so fast it almost gives you whiplash.

“You said my cooking tastes like raw fish innards!” You cry in protest, but the healer simply shrugs. Seonghwa tries to encourage you.

“You have gotten better at using a knife…” He says, smiling so genuinely it almost lifts your spirits for a moment. Then you remember Seonghwa is inherently good and literally not one bad thing can come out of his mouth.

“Your cooking used to taste like rotten fish innards, apprentice.” San says with a completely straight face, dodging the roll of bandage that comes sailing at his head with ease. But Yunho chuckles, and you see the teasing smile pulling at the side of your master’s mouth.

He’s playing with you again. You puff out your cheeks in annoyance, but San merely laughs at you.

“What do you need him for, Yunho?” Seonghwa asks, getting to his feet. The lookout gestures in your direction.

“Hongjoongie-hyung wanted us to teach the stowaway a little combat skill. Hate to break it to you, but no one can live a pirate without at least knowing how to defend yourself.” Yunho tosses you a short knife. You barely catch it, fumbling with the leather before gripping it tightly in your hands. You’re lucky the blade is wrapped in a sheath, or you’d have chopped off your own fingers.

You turn to San and the healer simply makes a shooing motion with his hands. You give him a dry look.

No touching words of wisdom or encouragement?

He shakes his head.

Nope.

You sulk and turn back to your new teachers. “I’ll be in your hands then.”

“Do your best!” Seonghwa calls from behind you as the pair lead you to the main deck. Some of the crew give you strange looks, undoubtedly wondering why their stowaway turned healer is with the lookout and their resident opera singer(?), but you ignore them.

“So, stowaway.” Yunho begins in some sort of introduction. “I’m Yunho, the lookout and a battlemaster. This kid here,” he jerks a thumb at the young man next to him, who immediately eyes his older crewmate with a scowl, “is Jongho, our resident maknae and the other battlemaster of the ship.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jongho says rather indifferently, looking at everywhere but you. You frown a little at his cold reception.

“Don’t worry about Jongho, he’s just a little shy around new people.” Yunho explains while dodging his junior’s fist, as if this is a common occurrence. “He’s also the youngest, so he’s never really been around anyone younger than him.”

You don’t really know what your age is, with your lost memories and all, but you are shorter than him, so you suppose that’s a fair assumption to make.

“Any questions before we begin?” The lookout asks, pulling a short knife from his belt and twirling it so effortlessly you’re already impressed. But you do have a question. Two, actually.

“What’s a battlemaster? And why are there two of you?”

“A battlemaster is a person who leads a fighting party during raids. We also train the crew in combat.” Yunho tells you. “Jongho is in charge of more… blunt weaponry, while I handle swords and pistols.”

“We’ll be starting off with determining which combat style you’re more suited to.” Jongho adds on quietly, reaching for the hem of his shirt, Yunho following suit. You’re confused for a moment, until you see the two of them starting to strip their clothes off.

Wait.

Wait.

“Wait!” You screech, shielding your eyes from the sight with your hands. “What are the two of you doing?”

“We’re going to be sparring with you, so we don’t want our clothes to get dirty from sweat.” Yunho sounds a little bewildered, and you hear him moving forward to remove your hand from your eyes. Before he can, you scoot backwards away from his voice…

...only to end up pressing against someone’s bare chest.

Help me.

“If it bothers you so much, we’ll put our shirts back on.” Jongho says gruffly from behind you, and gods help you because his voice is right at your ear and you can feel his chest thrumming against your back with every word he says. He steadies you with his hands before mercifully moving back from you, giving you some much need space and time to remove the flush from your cheeks. You hear the rustle of fabric and sighs from the two men, before Jongho finally gives you the cue to remove your hands.

“We’re decent.”

Hesitantly, you peek out from between the cracks of your fingers. Both men are dressed in their tees and trousers, overshirts slung over their shoulders.

“Honestly, stowaway, you scream like a woman.” Yunho chuckles. All you manage is a weak, little laugh, but you can’t help but think how true that statement is.

“Try to lift this.” Jongho passes you a wooden club with one hand, and fooled by the ease with which he carries the weapon, you accept it gratefully.

It's heavy.

It also almost smashes your recently healed foot into smithereens.

“Watch out for the club!” The younger battlemaster yelps, snatching the blunt weapon back from you in alarm. You’re wheezing, half in fear from your near foot crushing experience and the other half because your arms are screaming in pain.

How on earth did Jongho carry that? It's so heavy that your arms simply could not keep it off the ground. You’re still staring at Jongho in wide eyed open awe when he notices you.

“What?” He scowls fiercely, turning away. But you catch the red tinge on his cheeks.

“I would say you are not at all suited to Jongho’s usual style of fighting.” Yunho smiles amicably, throwing Jongho a sword. To your awe once more, Jongho easily catches it by the handle, flipping it over in his hand as if it is second nature to him. “Jongho will demonstrate a few moves with the cutlass.”

Jongho pauses to give his senior a dark look.

“I will?”

“Yes, you will.” Yunho eyes his junior with an excited smile and some kind of unspoken argument seems to happen between the two of them. In the end, Jongho sighs in exasperation, a long, heavy exhale and raises the sword.

“I hate the apple trick, so I’m only doing this once, alright?”

You barely have time to ask what the apple trick is before he launches into movement.

The tip of the blade pierces air, a whistling sound as the weapon scythes across mere inches from your nose. He’s barely completed a swing before he effortlessly reverses the action, twirling the blade and stabbing forward. Stepping forward, he spins the weapon in hand, executing a perfect downstroke, wielding the cutlass as if it is a natural extension of his own arm. You continue to watch, completely awestruck, as he finishes his demonstration with a final move, leaping high and twirling in midair, before bringing the blade right down on Yunho’s head.

You almost scream in shock, but then you see the razor sharp edge slice through an apple that Yunho must have placed on his head during the demonstration. The red fruit splits all the way in half, but the blade stops merely a hair’s breadth from Yunho’s head.

There’s silence for a moment, then a smattering round of applause from the crew that have been watching in respect of Jongho’s unparalleled skill.

“So that’s all you have to do.” Yunho is completely unruffled, tossing you a half of the apple while taking a munch of the other. You stare at him like he’s just slapped you in the face.

“That’s all?” You repeat incredulously. “That’s all?” Your voice starts rising in pitch uncontrollably. “I can’t do that! That’s crazy! Jongho is too talented!”

The maknae coughs lightly behind his hand, but he sounds pleased.

“I believe in you!” Yunho chirrups, taking another bite of his apple. “I don’t think anyone could quite reach Jongho’s level, but you should at least try to reach some level of proficiency to defend yourself and your crew mates during battles.”

“I know…” You gulp, and Jongho passes you a wooden sword. It’s longer than you expected, and slightly heavy. Its handle is modeled after the distinctive hand piece of the cutlass that seem to be standard issue on the pirate ship. You try lifting it. “So… Like this?”

“No, you’re holding it the wrong way round, dumbass.” Jongho groans, moving to correct your grip while Yunho looks up at the sky for some kind of divine help.

“This might take a while.” He mutters to himself with a serene smile.

The rest of your day is spent mastering your grip on the sword, learning a few basic swings and as Yunho loves to say, “Practice, practice, practice.” You drill the same movements over and over into your muscles with that single wooden stick so diligently that when night falls and Yunho spares you any more torture, you stumble to the galley with some strange urge in your arms to continue.

“Are you alright?” Seonghwa peers at you as you slump over at the table that he uses to prepare the rations, completely exhausted.

“No.” Your words are muffled against the counter top.

The cook gives you a sympathetic smile as he reaches for a bowl, scooping noodles into it. “Yunho and Jongho are hard taskmasters, but they do want the best for you. I’m sure you’ll improve by leaps and bounds with their guidance.”

“Like I am with cooking?” You offer weakly as Seonghwa sets the noodles and a cup of steaming green tea next to you. The cook pauses to consider that.

“Perhaps not as much.” He smiles at you gently and you snort, grabbing the fork.

“Do you fight, Seonghwa-hyung?”

The older man thinks about this for a moment. “Enough to defend myself.” He replies thoughtfully, tapping his spoon against his mouth. “I usually use a cutlass if I’m in close combat, but I prefer these.”

He points to the cooking knives hanging from his belt and your mouth falls open.

“Hello, hello.” Yeosang slides into the kitchen with a spring in his step, a book tucked under his arm and a smile on his face. He must be in a good mood. “Hyung, captain’s dinner, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“Wait… hyung, you mean you use the kitchen knives to prepare food with… to kill people? Isn’t that kind of unhygienic?” You babble on, a little grossed out by the fact you may have been eating dried human blood. Seonghwa laughs at your shock as he ladles more noodles into a bowl.

“Don’t be silly.” He shakes his head, reaching for the seasoning. “I clean my knives very well after every battle.”

You turn to the navigator, who’s sitting at the table opposite you, reading a thick book with several dog eared pages intently. You peer curiously at the cover.

“A Complete Sum of Names Commonly used in the East and Their Meaning.” You read aloud curiously. Yeosang turns to stare at you in surprise.

“You read?”

You don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered, so you decided to go with flattered and twist a little smile on your face. “Yes?”

Yeosang must have seen the sour look, because he rushes to explain his words in a more polite manner. “I didn’t mean it that way, so I apologise if you feel insulted. It’s simply uncommon for most folk to know their letters, so I rather impressed that you could read.”

Oh, now you feel a little flattered.

“Well, thanks.” You’re sure your cheeks are a faint shade of red, but you clap your hands to them to hide it. Yeosang catches sight of it and merely laughs gently.

Seonghwa comes over to the two of you, holding the bowl of noodles in one hand and two slender pieces of wood in the other, passing them to Yeosang. The navigator beams at the two of you and turns to leave, but just as he does, there’s a sound of a massive thunderclap and the ship momentarily heels to the right.

Agile and surefooted, Yeosang manages to keep his balance and Seonghwa even saves your bowl of noodles from toppling to the ground.

The three of you stare at each other in wide eyed shock. There’s a moment of silence… and then the frantic ringing of a bell breaks the calm of the night.

Seonghwa and Yeosang react immediately, the navigator slamming the bowl of noodles down on the table as the two rise to their feet with an urgency so different from their usual calm selves. They remind you of hawks in the moment, eyes narrowed and every muscle tensed for action. The tension is palpable.

You don’t know what the alarm is about, but it can’t be good if they reacted this way. You glance at the two men worriedly.

“What’s happening?”

Yeosang flinches and opens his mouth to speak, but your question is answered by Mingi’s bellow from the main deck, echoing all the way into the kitchen.

“Royal Navy! Royal Navy to the south!”

[jostepherjoestar]

An Educational Favour: II

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Pesci x reader but also Risotto, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, lotsa pesci praising and face riding

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 -7

PART II: 🎣Pesci 🎣

“He hasn’t told you anything?” Your surprise obvious as those eager eyes widened, pacing around the confined office of your capo. It didn’t make you apprehensive of your next guest but it was nice to get at least a feel for what was in store. “He’s never told me. Just ask him, he’ll probably tell you after some muttering.” A flat, unamused reply like you were discussing the best course of action for an upcoming mission. Maybe it was a mission, it surely felt invigorating. It had been a little while since you’d taken Illuso, the man who pleased you so well, if only during the act. But what your stoic colleague advised you, stuck around. You’d demand to be taken care of, knowing it’s what you deserved. Of course you’d gladly return the favour to your next partner, the shy and stumbling mammone, Pesci. He’d let fall he wasn’t a virgin anymore some time ago, but no more details were released, making you curious what the green tufted man desired. Perhaps it was time to work on your communication skills today.

This time around you hadn’t even bothered to wear a bra, letting yourself move freely under the shirt and shorts you wore so often around the base. It only amplified that bubbly innocence you possessed, but your actions and desires proved that vision wrong. You were almost skipping through the house to collect Pesci from the living room who looked deep into conversation, more on the listening side now, with Prosciutto quietly seeming to advise him with his arm swung over his shoulder. “Evening, gentlemen.” You greeted politely, flashing a cute smile to both of them as excited bubbles moved through your middle at the sight of Pesci already blushing. It didn’t help that you’d been leaning so eagerly, pressing your breasts together, offering the men a cheeky view without even realising. The blonde letting go of his underling and offering you a harsh steel glare, a curt nod being returned, unfazed by your appearance. You reached your hand out to the nervous man, courage leading you to him, letting your fingers flutter right before him, kindly asking to accept the offer. And so he did, standing up from his chair and letting you lead him further away from the comfort of his aniki, instead going to your room where your tutor had been waiting. Taking charge, leading and having such a malleable partner made heat start to tickle your insides. Curious to see if the night would continue like this. 

Pesci still seemed overwhelmed as he noticed the harsh gaze of his capo, those dark eyes so intimidatingly taking in every bit of the scene before him. Sensing his hesitation as his reddened face didn’t dare to look at you, choosing the ground instead as you held onto his hand, never having let go since leading him here. “Are you feeling ok, Pesci? Do you still want to do this?” You nudged his side with the intertwined hands, a small squeak erupting from him. “Y-yes. I’m just nervous.” He muttered, daring to finally meet your compassionate gaze that asked him not to be so afraid. “It’s ok we’ll take our time. You’ve been quite secretive about your likes… do you want me to do something special?” The curiosity inside taking the lead, eager to get things started as you felt Risotto’s gaze lighten and the heavy aura surrounding him soften, like he was glad to see you be so open. “You look really pretty… and-“ he rushed out the compliment in that confident tone he used after Prosciutto offered him another pep talk. It let you know he was trying his very best, feeling a bit bashful at the sweet words, not usually one so easily impacted by those but the way he was so cutely trying made you even hungrier for what was to come. 

You felt a new sensation of wanting to please the broad man in front of you, coaxing out the lewdest moans possible. But he hadn’t answered your query, maybe avoiding the topic for a bit longer but you were starting to get impatient. Letting go of the clammy hand you’d held onto for so long and quickly smiling at Risotto behind you who slouched unamused, awaiting action. It was a sign you’d be taking the lead today, uncharted territory ready to be explored. A lustful idea inspired by Illuso’s dirty words from last time set you in motion. You crooked a cheeky finger towards Pesci, beckoning him closer. The nervous one bending forward with a hasty look to comply. “Do you want me to suck your cock, Pesci? Would you like that?” Soft lips grazing the shell of his ear as you crooned the naughty words, erupting a small gasp from the man you were teasing. 

He fervently nodded his head up and down, his little palm shaped tufts bobbing along, growing ten shades of crimson darker and feeling his unitard tighten as his member hardened further. No need to worry, the walk to your room had rubbed him so nicely, the anticipation having made him excited already. It felt so deliciously titillating to speak in such a hazy manner. “Could you take off your clothes, please?” The devilish innocence lacing your words even surprised Risotto, he knew by now you were no angel, but to already be so tainted? It only impressed him how quickly you’d learned, curious to know how you’d react to his orders. 

Pesci did as he was asked, shivering slightly as his leaking head got used to the chilly air. His length was shorter than your previous partner, but it presented a wider girth, making saliva gather at the thought of having it in your mouth for the first time. You were itching to find out how good you’d do, having curiously tried it out on popsicles in the past. Offering a nice view for your comrade, your shirt flung off to reveal your pretty chest to him as you got down on your knees to meet his length. Pesci wasn’t much taller than you, perhaps if you were wearing heals you’d reach higher. So it caused you no pain or strain to seize his awaiting member, the sight making wetness gather in your panties. An inquisitive hand coming over to grip his base, a wince erupting from above. 

“Did that feel good?” You inquired, hoping it was of pleasure and not pain. “Y-yes, m-more please.” He stuttered while holding his breath, not so confident in his ability to hold back from coming already, having had little experience in situations like these. “You’re such a good boy, Pesci.” A soft kiss placed on his leaking head as you complemented him, earning a moan this time, it sounded so sweet, only making you want to hear it again. He tasted similar to Illuso, maybe a bit more neutral, perhaps it was his better attitude. Another gentle kiss, your plush lips wet with saliva that had been building up, trailing more of them down his length as you gripped the base still. Slowly but surely you started pumping his shaft a little, all the while suckling on the soft head, cheeks bending inwards before you released with a pop, sending an energetic shiver down his body. 

Deciding to let go and ready yourself to take him in your mouth fully, he wasn’t that big so maybe you’d succeed like you did with the icy treats before. Slowly commencing, letting your lips envelop his tip before moving further and further carefully. Your tongue flatly supporting and grazing the underside. Before long you had him enveloped completely, starting to move your tongue to please him. “Ahhn..” Another sweet moan as you passed a vein, remembering where it was located to earn another one. You moved up and down his length, hollowed cheeks suctioning his cock and enjoying the feeling of the slight tickle in your throat as he neared your limit. Growing more and more comfortable with every move you increased speed and motions, feeling him twitch inside you, your moan only sending the sound straight through him, almost making him come just from the vibrations. 

He was getting dangerously close and not quite sure if you’d like it. “Can I come?” He asked so meekly it made your heart beat faster. “Of course you can, you’re doing so good, Pesci.” You could see his face contort and deducted your words alone helped him reach his orgasm. Swiftly you took him back inside, wanting to taste him and feel the texture in your curious mouth. Just in time you caught his droplets, milking every last bead as he groaned and mewled with your ministrations. The taste still wasn’t as good as you hoped but one quick swallow later and you’d taken it all in, the feeling of it moving through your throat tickling your wet core, making goosebumps appear all over again. 

Pesci’s heavy breaths could be heard, droplets of sweat covering his forehead as his balled fists relaxed, he’d barely moved throughout your sucking. “Was that good?” The question wasn’t pointed at anyone in the room, hoping the see if Risotto had any advice or assurance to lend. Pesci nodded rapidly again, his stare so adoringly taking you in. “Can you sit on my face… please?” The small sounding suggestion making you press your thighs together in anticipation. “You’re so sweet, of course.” The thought alone making your panties serve no purpose other than dirty laundry, quickly shuffling out of them, the lewd request making you giddy. 

A sweet, hungry gaze followed your curves and movements as you positioned yourself above his face where he so kindly asked you to take a seat. It would be the first time someone were to bestow their mouth onto your folds. Your thighs shielding his head between them, worrying if he was comfortable. “Is this ok?” Lowering yourself over the underside of his face, cautious hands holding onto your thighs with a gentle grip, keeping you in place. A soft muffled agreeable sound heard from underneath while the vibrations tickled you, making you grip onto the bed frame for balance as his mouth started to move between your sweet lips. 

The previously nervous man now seeming focused on his task and succeeding greatly as his tongue moved to lap at your throbbing clit that had so patiently awaited attention. You moaned unembarrassed as he kept suckling around the bud making you buck into his mouth out of reflex. Pesci’s nose was breathing out hot air heavily, tickling your mound, only adding to all the pleasurable sensations. The squelching sounds and your pants filling the atmosphere, looking to your side, not much further than an arm length away was Risotto, still observing the scene as you ground your hips further into Pesci’s eager mouth. He could sense the desire in your gaze, asking him to please himself again, not wanting your beloved capo to be left out of indulging. 

As the man below you lapped at your craving hole, drinking you in so nicely and enjoying every sip of your essence, eyes still fixated on your capo who had begun his strokes. His length was still so impressionable as he worked his fist up and down, mimicking the speed of your hips, the sight only feeding into your hunger. Risotto’s dark lustful gaze had been taking in the way your tits were so nicely bouncing with every thrust of your hips, that eager bright look of yours so enticing. It made him question how good you’d taste. 

Like a spool of thread unravelling you felt your orgasm creep up, Pesci moaning into your core as he kept going, for someone so usually hesitant and nervous, he was proving to be confident and very capable of pleasing you. “M-more, more Pesci!” Words slurring as you gripped the iron bed frame tighter, pinching your eyes shut as he moved faster underneath you, his hands pushing you further into him as he sucked and lapped at your bundle of nerves, focusing all his attention on it. The spool had reached its end, completely unraveled, the waves of pleasure like none you’d felt before moving through you. For a moment you stopped breathing, gasping for air as you let out short pant after pant so you wouldn’t pass out. The feeling had been so intense you didn’t dare open your eyes or even move again as your legs shook and clamped the head between them tightly. 

Risotto stopped his pumping, concerned that you were quietly frozen and breathing irregularly. He’d almost come over to tap you out of it but before he could, you breathed out a long gasp, thighs relaxing around Pesci’s head while they trembled and you tried your best to regain vision. “Are you alright?” Pesci asked, voice full of concern thinking he’d done something wrong as he moved you down to rest on his chest. “Uhum, I-I just… need a minute.” Regaining a sense of reality after the most intense waves of pleasure ever had taken hold of your body, slinking down next to your green haired teammate, laying your head on his sweaty chest. Your sensitive core still grasping and pulsing around nothing as the pleasure ebbed slowly. 

But the confidence he had in pleasing you was already sneaking away as he awkwardly cradled your figure against him. Soft pets on your arm, self-conscious thoughts bringing him down from his high of pleasing you, wanting to get dressed again, feeling Risotto’s stare bore a hole through him. “It’s ok Pesci, you can go if you want. You’re such a good boy, thank you.” You mumbled against his chest when you felt him tense up. “I’m sorry. No, I should be thanking you, it was really fun-” that usual tremble in his goofy voice fully restored as he gently slid out from under you to redress himself, avoiding all eye contact with his capo, quickly exiting after your permission. Too weary to indulge in pep talks to lift his spirits, perhaps it was for the better to let him go for now. Knowing Risotto would still be here was enough.

“Did you…?” You gestured your finger up and down tiredly at Risotto, too exhausted from the orgasm to conjure up a more comprehensible sentence as you slid your blanket over yourself for warmth. “No. I thought you passed out for a second…” his voice grumbled, it was more at his concern for you, glad to see you still breathing and satisfied. “You feeling alright? You got really confident at talking back there.” You felt the mattress dip as his weight took place on it. “Just dandy...t’was fun.” Eyes still resting as you curled into yourself with a dopey smile on your lips, wondering if Risotto would cuddle with you if you asked. Knowing he was there the whole time had always kept you calm and assured. “Good. Who knew he had it in him?” Your capo muttered, debating on wether or not to stroke your back and caress your face, telling you how sweet you looked while commending Pesci. But he knew he shouldn’t, stopping himself from making the situation any more complicated than it needed to be. The amount of restraint he practiced around you kept reaching new heights. 

Somehow you found yourself in the same place as last time, relaxing in the bubbles of Risotto’s bathtub, left to reflect on your night. He’d carried you to the bath, whispering you needed one as his muscled arms gently slid you inside the warm water. You’d roused from your haze as he closed the door, accepting the comfort as a quiet “thanks” left your lips. Never in your wildest dreams did you think Pesci could make you come that hard, the man surely surprised you. The way he so cutely responded to your praise only making you want to do it again, wondering if that dark eyed capo would like it too. 

It had been another day and another chapter of knowledge added to the library of desires in your mind. You sleepily wondered when your legs would stop feeling like jello as you felt yourself drift off again.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 283: I'M MARY POPPINS Y’ALL

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all, “Tomura what do you have?” and Tomura was all,” a quirk bullet!” and they were all, “NO!!” He then threw the bullet at Aizawa, who ironically actually did have a knife, and since no one bothered to say “no!!” this time he proceeded to CHOP OFF HIS OWN LEG. Just, schwoop. Lopped it right off. Didn’t even fucking care. Anyway so then Tomura was all, “you know what who even needs quirk bullets” and somehow broke free from both Deku and Ryuukyuu to go claw off Aizawa’s face. Thankfully Todoroki “I've spent the past eight chapters puttering around waiting for the coolest moment to strike” Shouto finally decided to join the fray by impaling Tomura, and everyone was all, “ahaha, classic Shouto”, and Tomura was all, “don’t worry though I’m fine”, and it seems like he really is now, since he’s finally regenerated and all his wounds have healed again! The chapter ended with Gigantomachia stampeding towards Jakku, which is super terrible, but what else is fucking new.

Today on BnHA: The Gunga kids spend a few pages standing around letting all that trauma soak in nice and deep as Machia rampages on towards Jakku. Back in the Shigaraki Wastes, the heroes regroup, which mostly consists of the remaining conscious adults tearfully being all “you kids get out of here... save yourselves...” and the kids being all “YOU JUST SIT THERE AND CHILL, DAD” and “[EXPLETIVES]” and “I’M YOUNG AND FILLED WITH RIGHTEOUS SHOUNEN RAGE”, all of which is very entertaining to me and makes me very proud. Anyway so then Tomura’s body sort of explodes a bit, and he’s all, “what”, and then it finally sinks in that he might have popped out of the toaster early, so he tries to end the fight right there and then with another round of Decay. Except that Deku counters it by SPONTANEOUSLY LEARNING HOW TO FLY, which is probably SO CONFUSING for all the non-Gran-and-Kacchan people around, which is just one of the many things I love about it. And the other things I love about it are that it’s (1) THE MOST BADASS THING EVER, and (2) just, really fucking great. So yeah. Rage, Deku, rage.

OH NO MY BABIES

don’t tell me. I’m not sure I want to know what it is they’re looking at. how many of the pros are fucking dead now ffffmg

also that is an extremely intriguing chapter title, though. 75? as in percent?? oh my god is something finally going to go fucking right for our heroes. or at least, you know, less wrong

OOOF

dammit Momo he was supposed to go to sleep! WHAT THE HELL WAS ALL OF THAT MATH FOR, THEN. did he grow bigger, or did she just somehow miscalculate the dosage, or is he finally going to go night-night halfway to Jakku?

btw Momo I’m not actually mad at you, you’re still the only one who fucking did anything at all. if anyone tries to give you shit, just look them in the eye and ask them “okay and how many things did YOU do?”, and they’ll be like, “oh shit, none”, and you’ll be all “yeah that’s what I fucking thought” because YEAH

OH MY GOD SERO ANGST

I have never seen Sero this badly shaken before. it’s somehow so shocking?? holy shit you guys, I know I’ve been saying for ages “lolo all these kids about to be traumatized af” but somehow it’s one thing to know it’s coming, and another to finally actually see it. oh god

anyway let’s just hope all of the grown-ups aren’t actually fucking dead. but based on all of the kids’ expressions, it really feels like a lot of them might be, and that’s just... ...

and they had to see it. right? is that what this is implying?? holy shit. they watched it all happen. that’s it, the rest of this arc is cancelled, please proceed directly to the emergency therapy arc right now

TOKO!!

holy shit look at the size of that rock that fell on the medical tent. and DS pulling people out of the wreckage. it really feels like everywhere you turn this arc, the intrepid young scamps of U.A.’s first year hero class are the ones out here keeping things one step from total disaster

oh shit

excuse the hell out of me young Momo but what the hell is up with this use of the word “dead” with the implied “like everyone else” hanging there at the end?? what is up with that. that’s a very bad sentence I don’t like that at ALL

and what the actual hell is this panel of FATGUM AND TAMAKI IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CARNAGE, TWO PEOPLE WHOSE NAMES I’M QUITE SURE ARE ON THIS CONTRACT OF “PEOPLE WHO AREN’T ALLOWED TO DIE” WHICH HORIKOSHI IMPLICITLY AGREED TO THE MOMENT I STARTED READING THE MANGA. BOY WHAT

JESUS MOTHER F. CHRIST

THAT’S. THAT’S, UH

OH THANK FUCK

I mean, I already knew they survived, though. so WHY AM I STILL SO FUCKING ANXIOUS. good grief

and in before Majestic fucking dies on the next page, having saved the children with his very last act. I fucking hate you Majestic, you blue-balling child-preserving magnificent wizard bastard

HE FRISBEED THEM TO SAFETY GAH

WHY COULDN’T YOU DO THAT TO MACHIA THOUGH. BUT AT LEAST HE SAVED THE BABIES. TOO BAD HE’S FUCKING DEAD hahaha sob sob sob

is anyone still alive?? did the guys who were fighting off Snoopy Sno-Cone and RD back at the mansion at least make it out in one piece??

(ETA: from here on out all of these guys shall be referred to as Schrodinger's Heroes until further notice.)

so now Mineta is questioning whether or not their Smart Momo Plan even fucking did anything, which. same, Mineta, honestly. but it must have!! right?? ????

anyway so here’s some more panels of everyone dying do you want to see them. sure. why not

can we get back to the Tomura fight now. I’ve had just about enough of this, I’d like to see some 75% business now before this turns into the most depressing chapter of all time

BOOOOOOO

goddammit. well for now my money’s on Machia collapsing just as they make it back to Jakku. so Momo’s plan does eventually work, but the League still makes it back to Tomura thus ensuring more shenanigans can take place. goddamn, lol, just when I thought the arc was nearing its climax. feels like it just fucking respawned with a full life bar

also Toga is really looking... not great. I’m so scared for whoever she ends up fighting after this. OCHAKO MY SWEET BABY GIRL PLEASE WATCH OUT

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE

PLEASE ARREST HIM FASTER. holy fuck if you fucking screw this up and he gets rescued I SWEAR TO GOD

oh wait is he just here to provide more backstory on Gigantomachia

GO BURNIN’, YOU GOT THIS. also, gonna be honest, at this point I really would not mind if Machia did a little less living for Tomura and a bit more dying

FINALLY!!!

FKFKF Aizawa not looking too good oh god. and Deku looks like he’s about to spontaneously develop ALL OF HIS REMAINING QUIRKS JUST LIKE THAT ON THE SPOT, FUCK YOU TOMURA

oh my god DON’T GET DISTRACTED!!

Shouto’s arrival is either about to make Endeavor more useless than ever, or suddenly a whole lot LESS useless, and right now it’s up in the air and I am excited but also scared

EXCUSES EXCUSES

BLAH BLAH BLAH. “SORRY I’M LATE, I WAS SAVING PEOPLE’S LIVES,” Shouto lies through his teeth, clearly not aware that Tomura has a built in GPS and knows full well that Shouto was actually only a few feet behind Bakugou and Deku and so that explanation doesn’t fly at all. the real truth must be something so embarrassing that he’s ashamed to admit it. did you get lost. did you run into an NPC who wouldn’t let you pass until you had completed some sort of quest

THERE YOU ARE KACCHAN, I WAS WONDERING

just as enraged as Deku! it’s almost like he just witnessed his sensei chopping off his own leg and subsequently almost being murdered or something

(ETA: actually lol I think he’s mad at Deku, for taking off earlier and leaving him behind with Gran. though there’s no law that says he can’t be mad about two things at once! anyway so do you guys think that being beaten to the punch by Deku here may perhaps frustrate this young man and contribute to his decision to return the favor at some point later on in this battle, perhaps with dire consequences? hmm.)

anyway so if you all are keeping up with the math, and I think you are, it seems like just about every one of the adult pros is either down for the count (Aizawa, Gran), or recovering (Endeavor, Ryuukyuu??), or Might As Well Not Even Be There (a certain TWO OTHER PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL IN A TIME OUT AND HAD BETTER BE THINKING GOOD AND HARD ABOUT WHAT THEY’VE DONE. OR MORE PRECISELY, DID NOT DO OR EVEN ATTEMPT TO DO). anyway so all of that means that the only ones actually ready and raring to go here in Round 2 against the newly regenerated and POSSIBLY HAS HIS DECAY QUIRK BACK Shigaraki Tomura are... drum roll...!

okay but FUCK YOU GUYS though oh my god YOU’RE EVEN RUINING THE DRUM ROLL

DID YOU NOT EVEN NOTICE HIS LEG BEFORE?!?!? holy -- can I -- can I please just slap them, I --

anyway so RockLockRock looks like he has something to say here. probably going to tell Deku to take Aizawa and run, as if Deku isn’t the fucking glue holding this entire operation together at this point now that Aizawa is KOed. can you believe these guys are so incompetent they’ve actually got me arguing in favor of the child soldiers now, what even

...fuck

shit. that face. he’s ready to die to give them all a chance. he knows he wouldn’t last two seconds against Tomura and yet he’s willing to sacrifice it all. damn it RLR... okay fine your time out is done now, but I’m still calling your parents

unfortunately, you’ll never believe it, but Deku doesn’t seem all that inclined to listen to this man telling him to bail and save his own skin sob

ngl though I am living for the Enraged Vengeance Deku we’ve been seeing in these last couple chapters. maybe now everyone will stop dismissing him as just a soft boi who always eats his vegetables and doesn’t swear, and remember that in truth he’s actually a mildly unhinged feral child with an infinite pain tolerance and a god-given talent for never listening to any life-prolonging advice that adults give him ever

oop don’t tell me he’s gonna do the Decay thing again, shit

-- uh

“eh?” lmao what the fuck. my boy's torso just opened up like a fucking door hinge and all he can say is “eh.” this fucking manga

like he’s seriously just calmly standing there trying to assess what the heck has gone wrong

you really don’t feel pain do you. “haha lol what why is my arm falling off I thought I fucking ascended”

OH MY GOD

IT’S OCTOBER THIRD. looool the fuck

Tomura. my sweet little S+ ranked death machine with an A rank in knowledge. who’s spent the past 15-20 minutes battling to the death with the number one fucking hero and all his pals. who all just HAPPENED to be there all ready and waiting to fight him the instant he woke up. Tomura. buddy. did it really only just occur to you that maybe something went wrong somewhere along the line. that maybe things were not, in fact going according to keikaku. that maybe the heroes didn’t just sit around waiting for you to finish cooking in your villain bake oven. like please forgive my impudence but TOMURA ARE YOU STUPID, is what I’m saying, I guess. but gently

(ETA: SHIGARAKI TOMURA, WHOSE ARM IS CURRENTLY DANGLING BY A THREAD: “hold up lol what day is it.”)

I really like how Deku’s just crying nonstop this entire time though. but like, you know. crying with RAGE

lol and he’s figured it out as well, and I fucking love the connection his mind made, look at this

sudden feelings of solidarity. “WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I” lmao

AHH MIRKO

how does she still have two legs?? Horikoshi I can’t believe you forgot how many legs your own favorite character has. but anyways yes this has been your friendly reminder that Mirko saved EVERYONE and should have a battleship named after her

okay NOW he’s doing the thing

good job Tomura you finally got them!! good thing none of them can fly, or Float. RIGHT, DEKU

AHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSS

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT. AND A BLACKWHIP/FLOAT COMBO, TOO! TOMURA, YOU WERE SAYING??

(ETA: he even grabbed Kacchan too. “I can fly by myself!” YOU SHUSH MISTER.)

(ETA 2: and what I also love about this is that we know the SIXQUIRKS are seemingly in tune with Deku’s emotions, so it honestly makes perfect sense that in the heat of the moment with Tomura threatening to kill all these people that he cares about, the quirk just basically acts on his instinct to save and doesn’t stop to ask questions. we’re saving everyone, no buts. and he even activates Float at long last, acting on that same instinct. honestly Kacchan had the exact right idea the whole time, all the way back in chapter 217. “it’ll activate when he’s in trouble, right?” exactly.)

NO GRAN STOP NO ONE ASKED FOR THESE FEELS

OH MY GOD

NEVER HAVE I STANNED THIS BOY SO HARD. HOT DAMN

he’s so fucking mad. omg??! omg

okay so I’m gonna try my best to explain why I love this so much lol. all right. so the thing is, it’s actually so rare for Deku to actually take the reins like this. even though he’s the main character, even though he’s All Might’s heir, his personality is such that he genuinely doesn’t mind being in the backseat and is perfectly content to share the spotlight with others, or even relinquish it completely. BnHA has had... how many arcs so far? hold up let me check

-- okay I just checked and it’s 18. so, 18 arcs. and out of all those arcs, Deku has had a solo fight in approximately... five of them. and two of those fights were against Bakugou and Todoroki, respectively, so he was still sharing the spotlight even then. aside from that, he’s fought Muscular, Gentle, and Overhaul (oh, and Shinsou, I guess). that’s it! and it’s been almost 300 chapters! and again, he’s the main character. in a shounen manga. like seriously though, that is wild

and so seeing him here like this on the last page, ready to throw hands with Tomura, presumably while using Blackwhip as some sort of physical barrier to coat his attacks and prevent Tomura from trying any more Decay shenanigans with him? dude. I FELT THAT HYPE. it’s just a really effective way of keeping me from getting Main Character Fatigue like I might get in most other shounen series. because Deku doesn’t get the spotlight all that often in comparison, it still feels fresh to me, especially now with him actually going up against the Big Bad. just, idk what else to say except “hell yeah” lol

anyway, so I don’t even know how long it’s gonna last, and I expect that Kacchan and Shouto aren’t going to be content to just sit back and let Deku have all the glory either (Kacchan in particular is probably frothing at the mouth already), so in all likelihood it’s probably going to be more of a 3-on-1 than a 1-on-1. and it’s also very likely to end with Tomura gaining the upper hand and trying to take OFA! and so in truth this is a very fleeting moment of triumph, and the most premature of celebrations! but even so... damn. and also I just love seeing shounen kids lose their damn minds and explode with angry determination. and I especially love seeing it with Deku, because I love the reminder that beneath that sweet, unassuming nerdy exterior lies a core of fucking steel. that look in his eyes, though. TOMURA ARE YOU SCARED. you should be a little scared, lmao

anyway. so that’s the chapter! and I’m really glad we ended on this note, not just because Deku is a badass, but also because like I was saying earlier, this was about as bad a situation as the good guys have ever been in, and I felt like the manga was starting to lose that feeling of hope that still needs to be there at its core even when things are at their darkest. idk, I feel like we needed this. Tomura got a chance to catch his breath in the last chapter, and now it’s the heroes’ turn. whew

[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 5 (The End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (The End)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

The Flowers: @call-me-prodigy @annoylinglyaries @zphilophobiaz @comic-brew @biglilwing @awkwardspontaneity @lozzybowe @mariiecapo @distressedearie @diyosku @dracoaereum @thesuitelifeofafangirl @chims-kookies @blade-xingston @danicalifxrnia

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

Notes: Wow that was a fun ride. But every story comes to an end, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter! And thank you everyone who has taken their time to like, comment, and reblog. I appreciate it a lot <3

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Robin visited every other night after that. It was surreal to have a hero that you’ve so long admired become your frequent visitor. Then again, nothing seemed normal anymore.

“It’s past the convention week. How do you keep coming here?” I asked curiously one night.

Robin gave me a lopsided grin and tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways.”

After Mom’s week long leave was up she begrudgingly had to go back to work. The hospital assured her that I was healing fairly well, and that I would be transferred to Gotham Hospital the following weekend.

I was never really lonely though. Besides the friendly staff, my midnight visitor always came right on time. I wondered why he would take the time. Maybe it was to get to know me better? Perhaps my speech that night managed to get through to him. I had hoped it was both.

If I was being honest though, I was a little more than glad he did. I had meant it when I told the boy that I found him intriguing. He was a tough nut to crack though. I couldn’t blame him.

During the day when I would shower, I’d trace the flowers across my frame and wonder just how much he had gone through.

Soul marks start to appear at 10 years of age. You could imagine the shock (and worry) my parents had gone through when they found me one day absolutely covered in flowers.

From a young age I would hide them. Always wearing my sleeves till my palms, my neck constantly covered with either my jacket, scarf or high placed collars. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, but Gotham liked to talk – and when you’re the subject of attention, then you’re an easy target for criminals.

As I got older, the marks around my neck forearms slowly faded. I had worried about my soul mate and their well-being. Now that I understood everything, it was a different type of worry all together. The kind that would sit at the pit of your stomach and tie knots, heavy enough to keep you on edge.

My T.V in the hospital room was always on the same channel, Gotham News. Every battle would have my heart clenching as the camera’s desperately tried to follow the fight. Most of the time’s they wouldn’t be able to capture the end, and I’d be left holding my breath.

That’s one other reason I looked forward to our nightly visits. I could relax knowing he was alright.

I still wasn’t sure what I felt for this enigma of a person. But I knew that I wanted to get closer.

“I have an idea.” Robin said one evening. There was a glint his eye, the mask was off since my mom wasn’t around anymore. “And it’s got something to do with your invention.”

I arched a brow. “The bullets are complete but I still have yet to finalize the counter measures.”

He nodded understandingly. “Counter affect can wait. We don’t want to encase anyone in rock at the moment, but I’m putting it out there since you wanted to help.”

Intrigued, I urged him to continue.

Damian was quite brilliant in his own way. After much thought and planning, we had about 3 more types of chemically enhanced concoctions laid out. All of which were to go through Batman before beginning the experimentation process. He has assured me that I would be leading the research team for that under Wayne Ent.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital.

“Do you like sweets?” He asked randomly.

Arching a brow I studied him. He was slouched on the couch with his leg dangling on one side and a book in his hands.

Charles Dickens.

“Yes.” I said, noting his obvious attempt to look natural. “Do you?”

“On occasion.” The boy shifted a shoulder to mimic a shrug.

The very next visit he had a black bag slung across his shoulder. His face gave nothing away but from the times I’ve spent with him, I realised it was his eyes that did most of the talking.

“Whatcha got over there?” I asked curiously, scooting closer to him at the edge of the bed.

“Patience.” He said and pulled up the make shift table that was attached to the side of my bed. Placing a medium sized box on top, he carefully undid the lid and opened it. “I present to you, baklavas.”

In the dim light I saw that they were flaky, almost like a croissant. There were some with a mix of nuts, from pistachios to almonds. Others were plain but still looked heavenly. They gleamed with a moistness, as if coated with a syrupy substance. I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

It burst with flavour and dissolved much too fast. I squeaked at the exotic taste.

“Oh my gosh these are so good.” I said, licking my thumb.

Robin looked pleased.

“You should have one.” I pushed the box towards him but he shook his head.

“They’re yours.” He said.

“Nonsense. Food always taste better when shared.” I picked another one up intending to eat it.

“If you insist.”

I had barely managed to register the wicked glint in his eye before he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand that was holding the sweet close to his mouth. He took it carefully from me in one easy motion and lightly licked my finger.

“You’re right. It does taste better when shared.”

I felt the burn on my cheeks and ears before I heard the warning blare of the heart monitor. Immediately, Robin slipped behind the couch just as the nurses for the nightshift burst into my room in a panic. They fussed over me as I repeatedly tried to tell them I was alright. My heart finally calmed and once they left, Robin got up covering his mouth. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

-x-x-x-

The weekend came much faster than I had anticipated. When the doctors checked on my progress, they gave the thumbs up for me to be transferred to Gotham’s hospital.  Mom was relieved, and wouldn’t stop fussing over me when we got there. I let it be though, thinking it was more for her own peace of mind than mine.

After that it was a short two weeks before I was fully discharged.

Robins visits never wavered though. If anything, he had stayed for longer periods of time. I got to know the boy under the mask more than I had hoped for and opened up in return more than I had intended.

I found out his brothers were vigilantes too. He pointed them all out one evening with a family picture he’d secretly stashed in his wallet. They were a “thorn” to his side — as he had so eloquently described, but I could see just how much he loved them. That was another thing I learnt about him, his speech patterns were very posh. He liked to use formal names and slang was not completely in his vocabulary. I asked him about that one time, to which he only replied “another time”. It was probably a touchy subject, where he exactly grew up.

His favourite colour was green, and his adoration for animals was as deep as black hole. It was crazy how perfect my mind painted him to be, and the more I knew, the harder it was to ignore the feelings growing inside me.

He enjoys reading, but would gladly spend the day locked in his room with his tablet and pen drawing the day away. He is good both in traditional and digital art, and sometimes dabbles in graphic design when he feels like it. He prefers his tea without any additives, but would not hesitate to pour bucket loads of milk and sugar in his coffee during the rare moments he drinks it.

I could list everything down but it would just solidify my attraction to him, and honestly I doubt this was he needed right now. Juggling a double life sounded a lot more stressful than he showed it to be. He hardly ever talked about it but from the amount of flowers blooming on me, it was difficult to see it any other way but exhausting. He’d kick butt at night, get hurt, then go to school the very next day like nothing happened.

He arrived one evening like he normally did and I had rushed up to pull off his glove. I felt a sting earlier and found a Sakura branch littered with pink flowers. I was right, his arm was soaked in red, and the gash looked bad.

“It’s just a scratch.” He promised me.

I didn’t reply. Taking him straight to the bathroom, I rinsed out the remaining blood and addressed the wound. After bandaging him up I finally looked into his eyes and showed him just how worried I was.

That evening we sat next to each other, with our fingers intertwined and his thumb randomly brushing against my knuckles.

-x-x-x-

Finally I was able to return home. Being able to lie down on my own bed, inside my own house, I could let loose and properly relax. I threw myself onto the soft comforters that smelled like fabric softener and smiled to myself.

Home sweet home.

But not for long, I reminded myself that this evening I would be dining with the Wayne’s. Swallowing hard, I hurried my face onto the pillows. I can’t mess this up, not after everything they’ve done for me.

Damian’s smirking face suddenly came to mind, and all his welcomed visits. It made my stomach grow warm. Remembering us sharing the sweets he gifted – soft lips against my fingers.

I groaned into the pillow, the room was getting a little hot. Getting up gingerly, as to not aggravate the newly healed stitches, I manoeuvred my way to the window and pushed it open. The cold evening air felt good against my heated skin. I sighed in content.

If I were being honest, I didn’t know what exactly was happening between us. I didn’t know if I wanted anything to happen between us. Wouldn’t it be weird, considering that I’d be interning for his dad in just a couple of months. Possibly work there if my luck doesn’t run out first. Not to mention WHO he was.

You’re just a normal girl, I chided myself. Not someone important enough to stand beside such a prestigious boy and his ridiculously wealthy family.

But even then – I found myself wondering. Seeking. Imagining… What if we were to become something more? What if it works? What if we fall in –

“Y/n!” Mom’s voice broke through my reverie, waking me up from the needless train of thought.

Closing my window, I poked my head out the door and found her putting on a bracelet.

“Are you ready? The cab is nearly here.” She asked.

I nodded and took a step closer to her. Looking quickly at the vanity mirror in the hallway, I gave myself a once over to make sure everything was in place. I had on a slightly fitting turtle neck sweater, paired with a high waisted pleated skirt and dark stockings. On my feet I sported on my boots. It was safe to assume no one would be able to see my soul marks.

My mom grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. I followed close behind her, handing her her coat before locking up the front door.

The cab driver arrived a few minutes in, and we drove off straight to Wayne Manor.

“This is exciting isn’t it?” She said to me with a lift in her voice, as she exited the cab to get the gates opened.

Once we could enter, we were greeted with a very large land that was pristinely kept. The grass was cut evenly, and the trees lining the estate were trimmed to perfection. Bushes were perfectly shaped into different animals, and flowers systematically grown to create swirls and shapes beside the road. A big fountain was situated just in front of the mansion while a man in a black suit waited beside the opened doors.

We exited the cab after paying and did our best to take it all in without looking like fishes out of water.

“Ah, Mrs. & Ms. Y/l/n.” It was the man who I saw pick up Damian that one night in Metropolis appeared. I also remembered him in the family photograph. His accent was thickly laced with British poise. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I shall be you’re attendant for the evening.”

“Thank you.” Mom was quick to compose herself.

As soon as I entered the house I felt my breath stolen away. It was huge. Everything looked so new and polished.

I barely registered my mom and Alfred chatting away as he led her to the dining hall.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I nearly jumped at the voice that startled me. Whipping my head around, I found Jason standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I remember my first time coming in here. Completely floored.” He chucked.

I waved a small greeting. “Everything looks so –“

“Expensive? Exorbitant? Grand?” He tried to guess.

“Beautiful.” I breathed out.

He laughed. “Not what I expected. But you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

I blushed. “Ah, I’m not sure about that. I’m just me.”

“Hey, no stealing our guest before dinner.” Dick walked down the stair case with Tim beside him.

“Feeling better Y/n?” Tim asked as we grouped just below the stairs.

“Yeah, thank you.” I answered, suddenly feeling flustered as they surrounded me.

Stay calm.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dick said with an air of comfort.

I wanted to ask what made him think so, but he answered before I even began to articulate the words.

“You’re fidgeting like a college student during a thesis debate.” He said simply.

“You’re… very good at reading people.” I arched a brow at him.

“One of my many amazing abilities” He winked.

Jason let out an air of playful frustration and pulled Dick aside. “And now you’re stealing her. Can’t hold a normal conversation can you Dickie, always a flirt.”

“First of all – do I need to remind you who mostly does all the talking during dad’s parties. And second of all – I am not a flirt. I can’t help it if I’m charming.” Dick mocked a suave look and shot it as his brother.

Jason looked like he was about to gag and Tim was less than pleased. I laughed at their antics.

“What’s funny?” Damian appeared beside me. I jumped and held a hand to my racing heart.

“Jeez, do all of you have a talent for sneaking up on people?” I wheezed out, trying to gather my bearings.

They all grinned at me without answering.

Robins, my inner muse whispered. I brushed off the thought as quick as it had come.

We had made it to the dining area just in time for Alfred to begin serving the meals. My mother was already chatting up a storm with Mr. Wayne. A wine glass in hand and a slight tint to her cheeks. She looked happy.

I began walking towards the seat beside my mother when Damian pulled out the chair like a gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and mumbled a thank you.

He took the space beside me and the rest of his brothers seated themselves opposite us.

As we opened our plates for dinner, I was amazed to see how well it was presented. Mr. Pennyworth continued to serves other dishes, and once he was done he left the room.

The food tasted just as good as it looked.

Easy conversation wafted around us, the usual topics of school, and future plans. Mr. Wayne brought up the internship which I nearly gushed over due to my excitement. Damian held back a laugh with a cough when he noticed my little slip up before I composed myself again. I bumped his knee under the table and playfully glared at him. He smirked and bumped me back.

“My compliments to the chef Mr. Wayne.” Mom said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He smiled through a glass of wine. How many glasses in were they at this point? Damian and I were the only ones who weren’t allowed so both our glasses were filled with water and juice.

“And, please,” Mr. Wayne continued. “Call me Bruce.”

“Hey, we should give the women a tour.” Dick suggested. “I’m sure you’ll both love it.”

Jason and Tim had excused themselves, and I had an inkling as to what they were up to. Patrols were a common thing, as Damian told me.

And so with Dick and Bruce leading, my mother and I followed as they showed off the grandness of the manor.

I couldn’t help but be awestruck all over again. The library was huge. Their shelves towered from ceiling to floor, and filled with all kinds of books. From novels to more informative documents. I recognised a couple of titles from the times Damian spent the night reading.

The sunroom was next. The glass was near invisible. I took in the sight of the gorgeous garden just beyond the panels, being able to outline a gazebo at the far end with flowers twisting around its pillars. I unconsciously touched my stomach where the stitches were, randomly pondering what kind of flower had bloomed from such a brutal wound.

“Are you okay?” Damian was beside me immediately and his hand supported my elbow. His voice was laced with concern.

“Oh.” I realised what he was talking about and pulled my hand down. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Honey?” My mom’s face pinched in concern. “Is it hurting again?”

“I just need to rest Mom, I’m fine.” I assured her. “You should continue, I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Mom was hesitant but there wasn’t much she could do, and she knew it. So they moved on, but not without Mr. Wayne asking for some painkillers to be brought to me.

After taking the medicine, I thanked ‘Alfred’ (as he had asked me to call him) before he left.

Damian was sitting on the arm rest of the couch. My hand was in his and he rubbed random circles around my knuckles. His brows were furrowed, and his features were set in a deep scowl. I could practically feel the guilt and worry radiating off of him.

“I have to be honest, I thought I’d see more animals around.” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Father asked me to keep Titus in my room for the time-being, he didn’t know how you two would react to a Great Dane, or vice-versa.” The boy said simply.

“Great Dane?” I asked flabbergasted.

The corner of Damian’s lips turned upwards. “When you feel better I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s a date.” I answered before thinking. All at once I realised what I said and felt my cheeks burn. “Ah – I mean, not date. If you aren’t comfortable with that, people just use the word date as a meeting time or –“

“It’s a date.” He brought my fingers up and ghosted his lips over them. I had to hold my breath fearing that my heart would stop.

I was momentarily stunned by his forwardness and calm. Looking away I managed to slow down my heart rate to a regular beat.

“I still need to guess the rest right?” I asked coyly.

He gestured for me to continue.

“Let’s see.” I rested my head on the couch and closed my eyes to recall our conversation back in the ball room. “We’ve got a dog, a cat.”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, moving from the arm rest to the empty space next to me.

My brain brought up an old song from the Princess and the Frog, when they had to ‘Dig a Little Deeper’.

A dog, a pig, a cow, a goat – the lyrics were sung in my subconscious before I could stop it.

“A cow.” I guessed.

Damian’s eyes grew a little wide, before a grin made its way to his lips. “Yes.”

“What seriously?” I giggled. “You actually have a cow?”

“Bat-Cow.” He chuckled. “I was a child, and that was the first name to come up.”

I was full on laughing now. “I cannot wait to meet them. But that was seriously a random guess, now I feel like my confidence is dwindling.”

“Then how about you wait till you see them?” He suggested.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, our knees brushed and I felt that warmth spread across my chest. We’re close. A little too close.

When I looked at him I found he was staring at the garden outside. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was something about this boy that just drew me closer, making me want more. I traced the little moles across his cheek and wondered when I had let this magnetic pull take over me.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Damian commented. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he threw a deviously charming smirk my way.

I blushed and looked away, suddenly finding my shoes a lot more interesting than it was. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He turned towards me. And I made the mistake of facing him again, because now our faces were just mere inches apart.

I found myself gazing at his beautiful green eyes that contrasted so well with his tanned olive skin. There were so many different shades of green looping and mixing with one another, it felt like a maze – one that I would willingly get lost in.

My fingers rested in the spaces between his, and I marvelled at how everything in that moment felt right.

I tilted towards him, and he did the same towards me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, stealing a glance at his lips.

Heart pounding.

Blood racing.

It left me dizzy.

“I’m… not sure.” Damian replied, his tone low. “But if you asked me to kiss you, I would.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist with a feather-light touch and I burst into flames.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

-THE END-

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: It’s a new day and Loki meets the rest of your family. He begins to formulate a plan, but it’s derailed by your hospitality before it can even begin. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Alright, here we go. Chapter 2! Let me know what you think, and if anyone has any predictions they’d like to share, I would love to hear! Updates every Friday. Enjoy :) P.S. It’s spooky season! That has absolutely nothing to do with this fic, but it’s one of my favorite times of year

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki woke up feeling a lot more alert than he had the previous day. After convincing you that he had amnesia, he spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of slumber, assisting his rapidly healing body get better even faster. He got out of the bed and stretched his aching muscles before scanning the room with fresh eyes. It was even more bare than he had originally realized, but he could tell from patches of less faded paint and wood that there was a time when it wasn’t so sparsely decorated. He flipped a switch by the entrance and the lights came on, sending a surge of panic through him that had him running over to the TV. He let out a sigh of relief when it still did’t work. Though, perhaps that was just because he was so terrible at using Midgardian technology. He stilled for a second and heard a faint mechanical hum easily identified as a generator. The cable would be back sooner rather than later, he was sure, but from looking out the bedroom’s single window, Loki knew he was in the middle of nowhere and that the internet connection was probably spotty at best. With any luck, he would be fully healed in the next few hours and could take his leave.

As he worked on massaging out the remaining dull ache in his body, Loki’s eyes finally landed on a bright pink piece of paper left atop a pile of clothes. His eyes skipped to the bottom where the signature was and, seeing that it bore your name, he went back up to the top to read it. He tugged off his sweaty, bloody clothes and pulled on the ones you’d written were left for him. The material of the shirt was soft enough, but the sweatpants were dreadfully baggy for someone who preferred form-fitting clothes that displayed his physique. Certainly, though, you’d been thinking of the comfort level of what you believed to be a very injured mortal, so he tried to remain thankful. Loki folded up his old clothes and left them in the spot where his new ones had been moments ago.

Back at the window, Loki was once again trying to determine precisely where he was. Besides the landscape, your voice and that of your father’s provided some clues to the most likely locations. He still had to be in North America, he was sure, and though he suspected it was the United States, there wasn’t anything confirming it at the moment. Your father did have a slight twang to his voice, though, so it supported his theory that he was probably in one of the southern states. Other than that, all Loki could determine was that this was a farm; a nice remote farm where he could hide from his oaf of a brother and his new overly heroic friends.

Loki called out to the Tesseract, and it appeared in his hands. Such power for such a tiny object, he thought as he turned it over in his hand. The last time it rested in his palm, he’d not fully been himself. Even so much as looking at it made him feel a little queasy now as he thought of all the crimes he’d committed with it. For it. But when his life is on the line, Loki had learned, there is very little he’d not do to save himself. It was one similarity he shared with mortals that he’d rather not. It was also one of the few he’d actually admit were there. But, no, some mortals were righteous beings. He knew that, but had trouble separating those of a higher caliber from the rest of the species. He wondered what kind of mortal you were, before being pulled out of his musings by a delicious aroma. He debated for a minute before once again tucking the Tesseract away in its dimensional pocket and heading out of the room, down the stairs, towards the amazing scent coming from a lower floor.

“Not a thing,” he heard your voice ring out as he got closer.

“Or so he says,” responded an unfamiliar female voice.

When he rounded the corner he saw it belonged to a woman that must be your mother, or else your older doppelgänger because of how alike the two of you looked. Your dispositions, though, could not have been more different. The first person to notice him lurking half-in, half-out of the room was a small boy who pointed at him.

“New friend!” he cheered. “New friend!”

Such innocence as Loki had never known continuously amazed him. He feared he could be dangerous for this child, but he would be gone so soon that he wouldn’t even be a blip in the boy’s memory.

“I would very much like to be your friend, indeed,” Loki said, crouching down to the boy’s height as he toddled over. The adults in the room all shot each other glances, but no one moved to do anything. “And what might your name be?”

“I’m Matt. And I’m this many,” the child responded, proudly holding up four fingers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Matt. My name is Loki.”

“How many are you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, far too many to count on fingers, little one. In fact, I am 1,047 years old,” he said, realizing that it would probably just be seen as a joke to amuse the boy, rather than a fact.

He laughed at Loki’s statement, but before he could reply, a woman that was presumably his mom called him over. “Don’t bother our guest right now, Matt. He’s still recovering,” she scolded.

“I assure you, it is completely fine, Mrs...?”

“Johnson. But, please, feel free to call me Ana. And this is my husband, John.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Loki charismatically said, though on the inside he was laughing at the name “John Johnson.” These mortals and their foolish names. “And I do believe we already met,” he added, turning to you.

“Yes, we did. You were so out of it I wasn’t quite sure you remembered. This is Mama,” you said, gesturing to the woman who Loki had correctly identified as your mother.

“Hello,” she drawled, fixing the god with an icy stare.

“Papa, did you hear? Loki’s awake,” you told the man walking out of the kitchen with a plate of light brown disks stacked high.

“Glad you’re up, son. Just in time for pancakes, too,” he said, immediately diffusing the tension brewing between Loki and Mama. “Come on, plop yourself down on a seat over here. You must be pooped, and I promise we don’t bite.”

Loki sauntered over to the chair Papa had gestured to and sat down. Feeling a fuzzy mass moving between his sprawled legs, he peered down and saw a grey-brown cat under the table. He’d never been one for pets, but the soft fur was comforting to his weary soul.

“Taffy,” you tsked at the feline before looking back up at Loki with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hope you’re not allergic.”

“Do not worry, I am not. At least,” he added, remembering his lie from the day prior, “I do not remember that I am.”

Loki appraised your charming family in your quaint farmhouse, almost feeling bad to intrude. Though, he reminded himself, he’d be out of your hair before you knew it. Papa was the only one happily chattering on about this year’s harvest, oblivious to the tension at the table, or else ignoring it. The God of Mischief refocused on the plan he’d created this morning; he needed answers. You were seated beside him and, besides your father and nephew, the only one who didn’t seem wary of him. And you were really the only viable option as Loki didn’t want to get sucked into a conversation about the wheat crop with your father, and Matt was at the age where he was only vaguely aware he was on planet Earth.

“If you do not mind,” he started, turning to you, “I have a few questions.”

“Of course you do. Sorry, I’m such an idiot,” you said smacking your forehead. “Please, ask away.”

The way you immediately seemed to blame and degrade yourself reminded Loki of himself. The difference, however, was that you did it aloud while Loki kept it bottled up. Whose way was better, he didn’t know. Perhaps neither was really good.

“It is quite alright,” he reassured you. “To begin, where exactly are we?”

Apparently it was some hole in the wall in Oklahoma, so Loki had been fairly correct in his middle of nowhere assessment. Apparently, you weren’t outrageously far from Oklahoma City, though Loki felt it best he avoid cities for a little bit. The nearby town that your farm was technically a part of was a very close knit community, so you knew that wasn’t where he was from.

“I see,” he said, planning his next move. “And that is how far from New York?”

“Far. Why? Is that where you’re from?” you asked, getting excited for Loki that he might already be getting his memory back.

“I am not sure,” Loki lied. “I just seem to think that is where I was headed. Or coming from.”

“Maybe you were at some kind of convention,” John offered, tuning in to the conversation. “Aren’t those a big thing in New York City?”

“It would sure explain the clothes!” Papa added.

“Great. Let’s send him back there,” Mama said, already standing up like she intended to drive him there right at the moment.

“Mama,” you harshly whispered, hating how unwelcoming she was being.

“Maybe he was on vacation from England. He does have an accent,” Ana chimed in, hoping to prevent a fight.

“I am afraid that I do not remember,” Loki muttered.

He was thankful no one was even concerned about how he arrived here. There was something else, too. He was feeling uncharacteristically ashamed because of how helpful you all were being. Well, most of you were being, anyway. He reminded himself again that he would be gone within the hour.

“It’s ok,” you soothed. “Like I said yesterday, you can stay here for as long as you need. In fact, I insist that you do.”

“I... Thank you.”

Loki still planned to leave rather quickly, but the kind look in your eyes compelled him to stay for a little while longer. After all, it couldn’t hurt to think about his next move a bit more. If he were to use the Tesseract again, Heimdall would surely notice. So, he’d lie low for a while and then get off this accursed planet.

“Well if he’s going to be staying here, he better help out some,” Mama grumbled. “I won’t have any freeloaders on my farm.”

“Now now, honey,” Papa said, patting her hand. “He’s still injured, after all.”

“On the contrary, I would happy to help,” Loki interjected, shooting a charming smile at Mama. “I am feeling much better now.”

“See, Earl,” Mama said triumphantly. “He’s fine.”

Everyone else tried to fight on Loki’s behalf but, between him and Mama, it was a losing battle. Eventually, it was time to clean up from breakfast, and you took him away from the clattering of empty dishes to find him so work clothes. The trickster god got a much better look at the rest of the house while you led him higher and higher until you reached the attic. You hesitated a second before opening a box labeled “James’s Clothes.” As you gently picked up the shirt on top, Loki peered over your shoulder wondering who this stuff belonged to.

“My brother’s,” you began before he could ask, sensing the question on his tongue. “We were going to donate them anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mama before she sees you. I’d give you some of John’s things, or Papa’s even, but you know.”

Indeed, Loki did know. Though he was roughly the same height as both the men, he was much leaner than they were. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing he understood. Your little distracted speech left him with even more questions than before, but something in him was screaming not to push you, to think of someone else for once. So, all he said was thank you. After a quick pit stop in the room from the night before to change into the bundle of clothes you’d given him, Loki made his way back downstairs where yet another argument was taking place. He was certain that his arrival was causing more tension than normal. His mind briefly flitted to his own family. It all seemed so picturesque, once, but that time was long gone. His mother—or Queen Frigga, as he supposed he should start calling her—never changed. She was as kind and gentle as ever, yet still possessed this refined regality and power. In other words, she was the complete opposite of Mama, who turned on her heel and made a disgruntled sigh as she exited when Loki appeared.

“There ya are, son,” Papa greeted once she was gone. “We had an idea while you were up there. We should make you up a missing person ad. I’m sure someone’s bound to know who you are.”

There was that sickeningly Thor-esque optimism in Papa’s voice. Not to mention the nickname “son” which, for someone like Loki at least, was one of the worst thing he could be called. He did his best not to grimace.  

“No thank you,” he replied, before continuing at the behest of your confused looks. “I certainly would not want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Nonsense. We just gotta find the camera,” Papa said, already moving past him.

Loki just sighed, deciding he’d find a way to stall later. When he finally looked back at you, your hands were clasped behind your back and you were nervously shifting your weight.

“In the meantime,” Loki began, picking up where he left off with your father, “why not show me what I may help with?”

You took him out to the chicken coop and taught him how to collect eggs. He supposed it made sense this was the task left for him considering you all still thought he was a fragile human. As you taught him, you prattled on about your life and your family. You mentioned how Mama met Papa, and how your sister met John, but nothing about your brother. Loki was on the verge of asking, but he didn’t want to make his time with you awkward. Even more than that, he didn’t want it to seem like he cared. No need to cause any extra pain when he inevitably left, right? Though your glittering eyes and stunning smile were working overtime to convince him otherwise.

“That’s all there is to it,” you said, finishing up your tutorial. “Any questions?”

“None at all. You are an excellent teacher.”

You two shared a laugh, and Loki was shocked by how easily conversation was flowing. Though, he let you do most of the talking, lest he reveal something that does not align with the rest of his story. All too soon, you had to leave to take care of your other chores. For a second, Loki felt as if he missed you already, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Just a week, he repeated in his mind as he gently placed eggs in the basket you’d given him. Just a week.

As he approached the farmhouse, he noticed a thick newspaper on the long driveway. He went over to examine it and, sure enough, he’d made the headlines. No clear photos of him attached, luckily, but the clothes were distinctive enough that you would recognize him for sure. Loki looked side to side before performing a quick spell to get rid of the paper. He headed back over to the house before anyone could notice him, ignoring the annoyingly persistent guilt bubbling within him.

“Just a week,” he muttered to himself again as he neared where you were on the front porch. “Just a week.”

But deep down, he already knew it would be much longer than that.

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt. 4]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N:  This Chapter is a Bucky chapter. Each chapter is a month since steve has been gone as a reminder. Let’s not judge Steve harshly after we learn some truths, okay? He can’t defend himself! As always for this series, flashback are italicized. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. Remember not to judge everyone too harshly till all the secrets come out. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

The days continued on in a way that left Bucky hoping the next would be over quicker than the last and following would be gone just as fast. He had hoped with each passing day, things would become more natural. They hadn’t, for the most part anyway. Some things seemed easier, like running to the store, going for runs, and fixing the shocks on Steve’s truck, so it didn’t have that ridiculous bounce anymore. Then there were days when he picked up the phone without thinking, dialed the number he’s had memorized nearly his whole life, only to hear Steve tell him he can’t come to the phone right now. 

He left a few voicemails, but the inbox quickly filled up. Bucky assumed he wasn’t the only one leaving him messages. After long stretches without hearing Steve’s voice, it felt like one day he would get the chance to listen to them. 

Bucky spent the last month trying to figure out what Steve expected of him, what the hell he was supposed to do with those damn letters, and whether or not he should be upfront with Y/n about having them. It wasn’t fair of Steve to put this on him, but it wasn’t fair that he was in love with Steve’s wife. Maybe he deserved this. Perhaps this is his punishment for betraying Steve while he was alive. 

Or it was his punishment for living when Steve was the one who deserved to come home. 

It was hard to celebrate being home when Bucky didn’t think he earned the right to be. Steve and Bucky had always been two halves of the same coin, polished side, and the tarnished. The dark and the light, and it wasn’t right that only one half survived -- the wrong half. That was the biggest reason Bucky avoided going home. Winnifred was so excited to have him back for good, she fawned over, and Rebecca talked about the future non-stop. She posted all over Insa-whatever and Bucky didn’t have it in him to tell them that he was the furthest thing from happy to be home. They would attempt to assure him none of what he thought was right, and Steve loved him, that Steve would feel the same if things were reserved. 

Bucky knew better.

Facing his mom while Rebecca was at school would be easier, or he was hoping it would be bearable at least. 

"I can't stay long. I gotta pick up Sam,” Bucky said as he returned Winnifred’s kiss to her cheek and let her smother him in a few more, hands rubbing his arms and running over his chest to convince herself, he was solid and sure in front of her. Once she was satisfied, he allowed her to nudge him into a chair at the kitchen table and make him toast with some of her plum jam; it had been a favorite of his as a kid. 

Okay, adult Bucky liked it, too. 

"You didn't have to come, sweetheart,” Winnifred’s soft voice was gentler than usual as she set the plate in front of him, two slices with more than an acceptable amount of scarlet tinted spread on each. He stared at it, and his stomach twisted with something he was coming to recognize easily: regret.   

Steve didn’t even eat plum jam. Why did his guilt have to surface at the worst damn time?

"I know that, but I've been staying with Y/n, and I didn't want you to worry. I promise I'll come by more. She's just-- I need to be there with her." 

In the rarest of truths, Bucky was hurting to be away from her right now, and they’ve only been apart an hour. Thankfully, Natasha stopped by to visit early this morning, so Bucky knew she was in good hands, and she was doing better these last few weeks. Y/n slept in his room most nights. They didn’t touch, and Bucky always stayed on top of the blanket, but she hasn’t woken up in tears since that first morning.  Bucky never brought it up when he finally made an appearance that morning. That wasn’t what she needed. She didn’t need him to shed light on the things she wanted to keep hidden. Bucky knew why she cried that morning and knew what it meant for her to work through it on her own, so he wasn’t about to force her to admit all of that out loud. Just like he knew the reason she liked sleeping with him was for the warmth. It felt like she wasn’t alone. 

It had nothing to do with who was thawing the cold, only that it wasn’t still there when she woke.  

Nearly every night, they made dinner together, and she usually picked the menu. Which would piss Steve off because most of their fights started with what was for dinner -- Okay, Bucky might find that a little funny. Y/n seemed to be healing, albeit slower than Steve or Bucky would like. Even a bit of her sass was coming back. He caught a few laughs, plenty of smart-ass comments, and several smiles, but the hurt was still there, buried deep in her eyes. Bucky was still working on getting her out of the house. It was rare when she did, and with her career on hold, she was burning through her benefits faster than brush fire in a drought. 

"I think you need her a little bit as well." 

Bucky shrugged it off but with one raised brow from his mother, and his walls began to crumble. 

"You look better than when we saw you last." She cupped his cheek in her hand, and Bucky immediately nuzzled her palm, soaking in the small bit of comfort. "Guilt is still there,” Winnifred murmured thoughtfully.  “I'm not sure if it's over losing Steve as much anymore." 

Winnifred was good at knowing what Bucky felt before he did, motherly intuition he supposed. He did feel guilt over that failure. Always would. Bucky made a promise to the most important woman in his life, and he let her down. He should have been paying attention, but he wasn't. He was so focused on that damn scarf sticking out of the back of Steve's jacket he didn't see what was coming. He should have been walking in front of him, forgetting his rank and who was leading the mission. Steve had someone waiting on him, and Bucky should have done everything he could to make sure he came home, but Winnifred was right. 

That wasn’t the only cause of his guilt. 

He was in love with Y/n and never told Steve. Bucky never owned up to that deception, never faced Steve with the truth, and now he was here by her side while Steve didn’t get to be. It was unfair, and it made Bucky sick to his stomach. Even with that weighing heavy on his conscience, but most of all, Bucky’s guilt came from Y/n. Because every time Y/n smiled at him, he prayed for someone, anyone to send him back to that night so he could keep her from ever becoming Steve's. 

And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for still wanting her.

“I don’t know what I’m doin’, mama. Steve gave me these letters and…” Bucky sighed and yanked his hat off his head, tossing it on to the table in frustration. He wanted to hate Steve for putting this all on him, for dying and leaving Y/n's heart in his broken, blood-soaked hands, “What the hell am I supposed to do with those, ya know? How could he put that on my shoulders? I-- I don’t know how to help her. I’m no good at this.” 

The truth was finally out. He was no good for Y/n. 

“You are when it comes to Y/n. Always have been.” 

“Mom--” 

“You think I can’t see when my own son is in love? I saw it in you the first time you brought her home. Eighteen or not, you were in love, and I don't think you ever stopped loving her, hm?" 

Bucky couldn't get the words out. If he said them, it made them real and made his treachery real. Winnifred tugged gently on his arm until his head fell onto her shoulder the way it would when he was a boy, her fingers slipped into his hair, and she could feel the moment the walls fell, and he sank into her comfort. 

"Why didn't you ever tell her, baby?" 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, hoping and praying no tears will slip past. He let out a stuttering breath and choked out in heaping breaths, "S-she deserves someone better now and back then. Someone like Steve." 

"Did she say that or did you decide that you knew best and she didn't deserve to know? Didn’t deserve to make her own decision?” 

The ache Bucky was feeling dulled, the claws on his throat loosened and misery disguised as hope squirmed into his chest as his mother’s words fluttered around in his head. 

"I-I...”

Had he done that? Had he taken away her choice by not telling her? They would never get the chance to find out unless someone had invented time travel, and he would never stab Steve in the back when he wasn’t around to pull the knife out. 

None of that mattered anymore. 

"Maybe. I don't know, but the second Steve kissed her. I knew it was over, mom. She would never pick me over Steve. Everyone knew,” He paused, debating whether to admit what his heart has known for decades now. Winnifred kissed the top of his head, an affectionate nudge to continue, and Bucky blew out a breath, admitting the harsh truth he’s been carrying with him all these years. 

“Even Steve knew I didn’t stand a chance next to him.” 

--

“Hey, Trouble.” 

Bucky held back his chuckle as he watched Y/n nearly jump out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Once she realized it was merely Bucky, she narrowed her eyes, and he could no longer contain his chuckle. Y/n dug an elbow into his ribs, and he feigned a groan for her sake. Bucky leaned against the railing, resting on his elbows and doing everything he could to keep his eyes focused on the water before him, not exactly where he wanted to look. 

He wasn’t sure he could look at her. Not right now. Bucky’s nerves were jumping like a live wire, and he was worried if he saw her pretty eyes staring back at him, he would chicken out. 

“Sorry,” Bucky said, soft and unsure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

That was true. Bucky hadn’t meant to. He only wanted a few minutes alone with her. 

“It’s okay. I’ve seen one too many horror movies. I feel like Jason is going to come up out of the lake or something,” she said with a shiver and instinctively slid closer to Bucky, letting their arms brush against each other. 

Shit, she was adorable when she said things like that. Bucky grinned and leaned his head towards hers with his eyes trained on a piece of driftwood floating nearby. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, “I’ll protect you, Y/n. I promise I’ll always protect you.” 

Bucky didn’t know why he said that. That was so utterly stupid. They were friends, and it didn’t matter what he wanted, Y/n never crossed that line or hinted that she wanted him to cross it. He should know better, but then she turned to face him, and the driftwood floating against the black water couldn’t hold his attention a second longer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and watched the way her lip reddened from the friction of her teeth, her eyes were brighter tonight under the moon, and her voice never sounded as sweet.  

“Always saving me. How’d I get so lucky to have a friend like you, Buck?”

He felt his heart drop at her words. Okay. It was now or never. He had to say something because he couldn't stand this anymore. Bucky stepped closer to her and set a hand on her hip, pulling her a step closer to him. He could blame it on the cold wind that made her shiver. A gentleman, he was a gentleman. If he had to, he could still get away with claiming it was beer, and it had nothing to do with how much he loved her. 

“Y/n…” Bucky licked his lips, and his hand tightened on her hip. “I, uh--” 

“Yeah, Buck?” She looked up at him with wide, almost hopeful eyes -- he was probably seeing things. 

“I wanted to--” 

“Bucky!” 

He internally cringed at the sound of Dot’s voice, and his heart clenched at the look of disappointment floating in Y/n’s eyes. Dot linked her arms in his and tugged him back away from Y/n, a flash of hurt flickered across her face, but she quickly hid it. 

“Bucky, you promised we would hang out. Remember?” Dot leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “You promised to help me make Smores, show me how to melt everything just right...” 

Even though Dot was trying to be considerate of Y/n standing there, it was obvious Y/n heard her lush fueled whispers. Liquor has a way of making everyone a little more brazen, and Dot was no Exception. It wasn’t her fault. It was Buckys. If he would only make his feelings for Y/n clear to her and everyone else, and stop leading other girls on, Dot and the rest of them would know they didn’t stand a chance. They would know any teasing whispers would fall on deaf ears, and all those sultry touches would never bring him to his knees while his heart was tethered to Y/n’s. 

Wanda called out for Y/n, and she slipped past them before Bucky’s brain could come up with a reason for her to stay. You could tell her you love her, his brain scolded him. Bucky wasn’t listening to anything his brain had to say tonight. Clearly, because he was letting Dot lace their fingers together and drag him towards the huge bonfire that rested on top of the bank. 

The fire was a good ten feet around. It was a tradition at the end of summer; everyone got together at the lake, a cool summer night full of booze, food, and music. Every year was different, sometimes it was over a hundred people, and other times they barely made it to forty. Bucky usually enjoyed himself. It was fun to let loose before the new term started, but things were different this time. He didn’t come to make-out with some pretty girl for the night and maybe make it to second base, he came for Y/n. Now, she was standing across the fire, a good twenty feet away, and there was no way she would believe any confession he gave after Dot’s performance. 

Probably thought he would be wrapped around Dot, hands, and lips, which was why she was doing everything she could to avoid looking through the flickering flames towards him. Bucky was so wrapped up in watching Y/n he didn’t notice Dot walking away to grab marshmallows and Steve taking her place next to him. 

If she would only look up, give him a sign he could fix it… 

“I thought you liked Y/n.” Something in Steve’s voice got his attention, causing Bucky to turn to face the blond. He was nervous. “Why are you all over Dot?” 

Was he that obvious? They never talked about it, but Steve knew how Bucky felt. It was an unspoken understanding between the two men that Bucky Barnes was in love with Y/n L/n. That didn’t mean he wanted everyone around them to know, and what did it matter at this point? She would never see him the way she did in his dreams. 

“She’s way out of my league Steve.” Bucky’s eyes clouded, and he gave the taller man a charming smirk he usually saved for special occasions, one that would protect his heart from the truth. “I don’t think-- it’s not like that with Y/n. She's my friend. She doesn't see me that way." 

Steve was quiet for a long time after that. They both stood in silence, watching Wanda attempting to make Y/n laugh. After giving up, she walked around the flames towards them, and Steve turned to face Bucky once more, gulping before asking. “So… you're okay with me asking her out?” 

Bucky swallowed the knot in his throat. How did he not see that coming? 

“You-- “ He squeaked, cleared his throat, and tried again with more confidence, “You, uh, you like Y/n? 

He watched Steve’s gaze dart across to where Y/n was standing all alone now, looking like she was ready to bolt. Bucky knew that look anywhere. He’s seen it on her more times than he could count, but it usually involved school or facing her parents. Not once has it ever been tied to him, and that was a God awful feeling. 

“Yeah,” Steve said with adoration as he gazed at Y/n, never once taking his eyes off her. “ I mean what’s not to like. She’s smart, beautiful, and constantly keeps you in check. She’s amazing.” 

Yeah, I know she is. Bucky thought. 

“Listen, go for it, pal.” He patted Steve on the shoulder and contrived the best smile he could muster at the moment. “ You guys would be great together. I'm, uh, I can’t stay with one gal longer than a coupla day, right?… Like I said, she's out of my league."

Steve eyed him carefully until Dot appeared back by Bucky’s side, hooking her arm in his and leaning into his side. Only then did Steve nod and left the pair on their own. He couldn’t move or speak. Bucky could only watch. He watched through the flecks of yellow and orange as Steve approached the woman who held his heart. Sam was by his side saying something, Bucky didn’t know what. He couldn’t focus on anything but the way Y/n was laughing at his best friend, and when Steve kissed her, everything in his chest hurt. There was cheering and some whistles, Bucky didn’t have it in him to pretend. Not when everything was falling apart, and his heart was being ripped from his chest. 

Right then, Bucky knew whatever chance he had with Y/n was gone. In a matter of seconds, he lost her. 

--

Bucky was running late. Winnifred insisted he finish breakfast and then forced a jar of jam in his hands on the way out the door, which led to the stain on his shirt and the first thing Sam did when Bucky picked him up was make fun of the drooping red stain gracing the breast pocket of his grey button-up shirt. Not the best way to impress someone, Bucky doesn’t have time to change, so he will have to hope his charm can overshadow the state his shirt. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eyes, and Sam was still staring at him from the passenger seat. Bucky cleared his throat and aggressively pushed his sleeves up to his elbows to distract himself from asking Sam what his problem was. 

It was that or shoving him out of the truck. Bucky wasn’t sure which would happen if Sam kept watching him -- one or the other that was for sure. The volume on the radio dropped, and Bucky’s stomach went along with it. Not today, was all Bucky could think, please not today. He couldn’t talk about Steve today after the morning he had at his mom’s.  

“You ever gonna tell her you love her?” 

Bucky frowned at Sam’s question. 

Okay, not what he thought, but today wasn’t a good day for this, either. 

“Go up to my best friend’s wife while she’s mourning him and say hey I know you’re dealing with a lot, but I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and never said anything. What are your thoughts on that?  No, man. I ain’t ever gonna tell her that. There’s no point. It ain’t gonna change anything, and she doesn’t need the added guilt.”

“What would she have to feel guilty about? It’s your guilt you’re worried about, not hers.” 

The guilt for that does lie with Bucky, but she would share the burden once she knew the truth, and Bucky wouldn’t add to the pain she was already feeling. 

“No, it’s not an option, okay? It stopped being an option the night they kissed. That’s it. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“I was there that night if you remember correctly. She and I talked a lot more than you did back then. She was waiting for you to kiss her then you fucked it all up--” 

“Stop. Stop. If I had kissed her that night, Steve wouldn’t have. They wouldn’t have dated, never married and--” 

“And things might not be as messed up as they are right now.” 

Bucky’s mouth snapped shut, and he slammed on the breaks when they got to the end of the long dirt road they’ve been on for twenty minutes or so now. The truck jerked to a halt with the heaviness of Bucky’s foot, and he threw it into park, his voice was deadly quiet when he spoke again, “I don’t wanna talk about this. Ever again. She’s Steve. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not. She’s Steve’s wife, and I’m not crossing that line.”

“Buck, that’s insane. So in five years from now--” 

“Just shut up and wait here." 

The truck door slammed, and Bucky was walking up the pebble filled dirt drive before any more could be said, and before Sam could ask him what the hell they were at some farmhouse two hours from home. Bucky jogged up the four light green steps of the porch and rapped his knuckles against the darkly stained oak front door. There was music playing that could be heard through an open front window, and Bucky caught a tiny voice yell for their dad. He smirked as the little girl’s voice floating along with the white curtain that was billowing out the window, “It’s some tall, really big guy, daddy.” And then she giggled, “his hair looks weird like it’s trying to be long, but it looks bad.” 

He would have to tell Y/n about that later. She would get a kick out of some kid making fun of him growing his hair back out.

Bucky took a deep breath when the front door finally opened, and he straightened his shoulders, trying to remember the man he was before going to war. That guy that could talk just about anyone out of anything; he needed to be that guy again, even though it wouldn’t last beyond these front steps. 

“Can I help you?” 

I sure hope so, Bucky thought. 

“You recently bought a piano from a young woman? Y/n L/n? It was about two months ago.”

The man stepped outside, closing the door behind him, suspicion clear in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. What is this about?” 

Bucky slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash thicker than his fist. He shook his head, huffing out a laugh of mixed relief and self-deprecation. Bucky explained why he was darkening the front steps to ease the wary man, “Took me forever to track you down. I, uh, I wanna buy it back.” 

The stranger slowly reached their hand out to take the bills, turning them over in his palm and running a thumb over the edges. Nothing smaller than a twenty in the bunch. He wasn’t sure how much was there, but it was far more than he paid for the used instrument. Bucky could see the question in his eyes, and he was quick to assure him the deal was in his favor.

“It’s triple what you paid for it. You can go and buy a new one ten times better than that one with cash leftover.” 

The man looked completely bewildered. He tapped the bills against his hands, the glint in his eye said he was ready to hand the money back and send Bucky away. Instead, he asked, “Why don’t you just buy her a new one? It would be cheaper.” 

Yeah, Bucky could do that. It would be cheaper, but it wouldn’t have that chip in the back corner where he and Steve banged it on the doorframe moving it into the new house; turned out Y/n had been right, they should have gone through the backdoor. There wouldn’t be 3 keys slightly off in color because they had to be replaced four years ago, and their initials wouldn’t be written on the bottom thanks to one boring afternoon when they were teens.

“It wouldn’t be hers,” Bucky responded with a fond, slightly sad smile. Apprehension was still pouring off the stranger, bucky took a deep breath and steeled himself. He needed this, and more importantly, Y/n needed this. 

“Just- please? I can’t explain it. I need to bring this one thing back to her.” 

“Still seems like a lot of trouble for one old piano,” The man grumbled, but he still opened the door for Bucky to follow him inside. Bucky gave a quick glance to Sam and gave him a wave that said it was okay to get out of the truck and follow them inside. A sigh left his lips when he saw it, that old black grand piano, knicks and blemishes still shining bright in all their glory right by the front window. 

“If you knew the woman it belonged to--” Bucky whispered quietly and ran his hand along the painted maple, the one promise he could actually keep “--you would understand.” 

Bucky knew first hand, she was worth this and so much more. 

Previous // Next 

[atinytokki]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Chapter 5: Return to the Maze

Usually Jongho would be suspicious of such consistent good weather, but for now he was simply grateful that the sea goddess had blessed their journey with clear skies and fair winds.

They were moving much faster than they had been last time they visited Maddox’s Island, despite travelling in a very roundabout way, and they had a rescue plan in place. Knowing the territory better the second time had its advantages.

When the sails were squared away and the crew could relax some, Jongho found himself in the captain’s cabin once again.

It had become the regular location for all their gatherings the past few weeks, something about occupying the space lending them confidence in their decisions.

Unsurprisingly, Mingi, Yunho, and Seonghwa were already there. Mingi and Yunho were in a quiet conversation off to the side, sorting through the remaining stacks of gleaming treasure, while Seonghwa sat on his bed reading something.

Naturally, Jongho was curious, and moved to peek over the eldest’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of what it was.

“This is Hongjoong’s...” he realised with a frown, combing over handwritten text that detailed their adventures from the birth of the ATEEZ onwards.

At the mention of Hongjoong’s name, Mingi and Yunho perked up and moved closer, pushing the gold aside. “That was his mother’s diary,” Mingi remarked in a quiet voice when he recognised the book from an encounter years ago, reaching forward and flipping back to the beginning. A wave of nostalgia broke over the group. “He just continued it with his own story.”

Seonghwa nodded and went back to the section he was reading. Events that had taken place before he joined them.

“Did he say anything about me?” Mingi said a moment later, clearing his throat nervously.

“Just that you’re loyal and attentive, and sometimes he thinks back to those days when it was just the two of you on the beach and realises those were the happiest moments of his childhood,” Seonghwa answered, reading off a page from over a year ago.

“Is there any mention of me in there?” Jongho asked quietly, masking his nerves by clearing his throat. He didn’t know what he was expecting to hear, but he hoped it was pleasant.

Seonghwa smiled softly and flipped until he found the passage of Jongho’s entry into the story.

“At first, I thought he was older than me,” he read in a soft voice. “Not from his looks or his manner, but his eyes. They’re the eyes of someone who has seen horrible things, and as soon as I saw them I wanted him to join us. I want to see light in those eyes, not just darkness.”

Tears gathered and Jongho slowly sat down and let the words wash over him. Some of that darkness lingered, and it felt like failure.

“See, he’s always loved you,” Seonghwa reassured the younger boy, who shook his head and chuckled in disbelief.

“Well, he met me in the middle of a nightmare, of course he took me in, I prophesied it...”

“But he didn’t bring you onboard because he thought you were useful,” Mingi interrupted firmly. “He did it because he thought you belonged here.”

Jongho pulled his knees up to his chest. It was chilling to think about, but from this side of the event, that sudden decision had been the right one. 

“What was his first impression of me?” Yunho piped up. Seonghwa was already turning to the pages that chronicled their introduction and began to read without hesitation.

“Mingi says I’m ‘collecting’ people, but I prefer to think of it as taking a chance on a likeminded individual. Perhaps the ATEEZ is Yunho’s second chance at life, the way it’s also become mine.”

A beat passed in agreement as they considered how true it was for all of them. Mingi nudged Yunho as if to remind him what he had said himself on the beach not long ago. Everything happens for a reason. 

“How about you, did he have much to say?” Mingi smirked, turning to Seonghwa and already anticipating pages of lengthy prose.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head.

“Oh, something about me being a thorn in his side, and plenty of other things from back then that he said to my face besides. Not much flattery, at least not until we reached an understanding. ‘I’ve never tasted fish seasoned so well in my life, a significant feat to have accomplished’.”

Together, they laughed at what Hongjoong appeared to consider high praise.

“He worried about me a lot,” Seonghwa frowned, sobering as he thumbed the pages. “I suppose I have been injured frequently, and I’m not one for combat. Even in such a private book, he shares his true thoughts very sparingly. But there is a passage in here that I think he’d want us to read— all of us, together. It feels like a message from beyond the grave. He wrote it that day we spent on the treasure island from what I can discern.”

The three of them pressed closer to look over Seonghwa’s shoulder, even as he read in a soft voice the words that were written in secret.

I’m ashamed to record it, but I must have done something to make Seonghwa convinced I want him gone. I’ll admit, I’ve kept my distance and concealed my thoughts on the subject, but I don’t know what I’ll do if he leaves me alone. I’ve come to realise in this safe haven, far away from the ghosts and shadows that lurked at every corner, that I need him.

I broke my most important rule, to never fully trust anyone, because even the most unlikely can betray you. He decided to try and patch up the hole in my heart and without even knowing it, I’ve started depending on people again.

A feeling wells up inside when I see the faces of those who have become so much more than friends to me. No matter how hard I fight it down, it’s there consuming me until I admit the truth behind why I fight every fight that comes my way when I’m so, so tired of trying.

They’re my family. I love them so much, it hurts, and if I could hold onto all seven of them forever, I would do it. There’s no guarantee we’ll ever be whole again when we set out from this place, and I should never have invested so much of myself in them, but I was defenceless and if I have to have one weakness— let it be this group of brightly shining stars who guide me to better places, even as they think I’m the one guiding them. Let it be this twinkling treasure I’ve found, the value of which can never be compared with all the riches in the world. 

They’re everything to me. Until all our debts are settled, they’ll never know, but one day I’ll have the courage to tell them.

When I’m with you, I’m home. 

The silence after was almost reverent. Like they’d been communicating with the dead, the group dare not breathe for fear of disturbing the moment.

“We knew,” Yunho finally whispered, voice thick with emotion. “We knew without being told.”

Jongho glanced over at him and slung an arm around his waist, pulling him further in to their warm little huddle.

“Hey,” he chuckled wetly. “Now he has told us.”

The contemplative silence was broken by a knock on the door and Yujin’s appearing head.

“What is it?” Mingi demanded, quickly wiping his eyes and returning to his cool professionalism.

Yujin tensed and tilted his head toward the window. A familiar island shrouded in mist had grown closer while they were distracted with the past. It was time to move on.

“We’re here.”

... 

Establishing an exercise regimen after a serious injury was always difficult, but doing so in secret in the cramped belly of a navy warship was much more difficult, Hongjoong found.

There were moments here and there on their voyage southeast to respond to enemy ship sightings that the lucky prisoner wasn’t guarded in the business and activity of the day, which he used to his full advantage.

It was always better to trick the opponent into thinking he had him down for longer than he actually was.

Gingerly, Hongjoong lowered himself down from where he’d been hanging from a ceiling support beam and pulling his weight up and down for as long as he could, smiling at his own perfect timing and then wiping the expression clean before the steward entered with the morning meal. 

He wasn’t in the shape he wanted to be in yet, but he felt marginally less useless this way.

“Chowder again?” Hongjoong beamed teasingly and sat up straight as Doh scooped up some of the soup and waited for the prisoner to open his mouth again.

“No complaining,” the steward muttered as he spooned the food in carefully. “You’re worse than the men. I told them and now I’m telling you; we’re at sea now, with no idea how long the food will have to last. No more delicacies until landfall.” His chastising sounded like Seonghwa’s, and suddenly Hongjoong needed to change the subject again.

“Let me do it,” he insisted with his mouth still full, swallowing and repeating himself until the steward relinquished the spoon. 

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t manage to get the slop onto the spoon and the spoon up to his mouth without help, and immediately his mood was soured.

“Don’t be upset,” the man scolded him softly when tears gathered. “You’re healing still.”

The reality was that exerting himself immediately before the meal was certainly not helping him control his own limbs and his own exasperation was making him quit before he should have. 

“Steward.” Hongjoong gave him a look and sat back. “I managed to sail alone over five thousand nautical miles in a boat I built with my bare hands, whilst wounded and starving, as an eighteen year old, and came back stronger. Forgive me for being frustrated if I can’t lift a spoon without my hands shaking.”

Doh gave him a once over before placing the bowl to the side and offering his advice.

“If that’s the case, you may want to consider whether your problem is physical or psychological.”

Hongjoong scoffed, but the creeping suspicion in the back of his head was inclined to agree. “What, are you saying I don’t want to get better?”

“I’m saying I think you’re scared,” the steward explained after a hesitant pause. “Of what might happen when you do.”

It had been months since he’d seen a friendly face. More importantly, since any of his friends had seen him alive.

Assuming he escaped the Crow, what then? Assuming he miraculously found the ATEEZ, what would he do next?

Would things just go back to normal?

No, they thought he was gone— they thought he was dead. Things would never just go back to normal.

Presumably, they had moved on... without him.

Silent for the remainder of the meal, Hongjoong let the steward feed him and thought about what kind of changes that Park mentioned might have taken place.

Surely nothing too drastic... nothing that would cost him his friends...

If Seonghwa was alright, he must be looking out for the others. That much, Hongjoong could be sure of. 

The steward, too, was quiet as he gathered his things and made to leave. Hongjoong stopped him just before he reached the door.

“Why are you helping me?”

This wasn’t the first time Hongjoong had needed to charm the pants off someone to get away with his plans, but despite the steward’s kindness, he was clearly a shrewd man who knew much more than he let on.

“The Admiral will need you in good shape,” he answered readily, but there was something in his eyes that told Hongjoong he had him exactly where he wanted him. Time to start making his move.

“Can you do me a favour, Steward?”

Doh cocked his head but his face didn’t change. He was open to suggestion.

“Perhaps.”

“Keep the surgeon away from me,” Hongjoong nearly whispered. If the surgeon came back intending to conduct experiments on him, he’d very quickly lose any surprise fitness and it would be back to square one.

The steward narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“He... makes me uncomfortable.” 

That much was both believable and true. And so the steward bowed his head in agreement and left the room, and Hongjoong was left to lay back and exhale slowly.

He had gained an ally.

When the steward reached the quarterdeck, bundled against the winter winds bearing down on them, Admiral Kim was waiting for a report from him.

“Can he walk?”

Doh paused to decide how much to tell his captain, then smoothly delivered a half-truth.

“With help.”

“Bring him to the quarterdeck,” Kim ordered, eyes cast on the horizon with a sickening air of immense confidence. “I want to see what he’s worth.”

...

Like an ocean wave crashing into the shore, Wooyoung threw himself into Yeosang’s arms.

Not until he was assured that he wasn’t dreaming did he withdraw from the embrace. “How are you here?”

“I was assigned as navigator,” Yeosang explained, laughing in amazement. “The better question is how you ended up here. Weren’t you looking for San?”

All the air went out of Wooyoung and he hunched in on himself, the action cautioning Yeosang to tread lightly. “I was tracking him,” Wooyoung admitted quietly. “But I was pressganged onto this bucket of bolts with no way off in the foreseeable future—”

He was interrupted by Woosung clearing his throat. Having forgotten he was there, Wooyoung beckoned him over with a sigh for introductions.

“Yeosang, my brother Woosung.”

If Yeosang had been amazed earlier, he was astonished now. “The same brother you always talked about?”

“You talked about me?” Woosung teased with a wicked grin on his face for once. Wooyoung jabbed him in the ribs and nudged Yeosang into the wardroom so they could catch up in peace. 

“I’ve been meaning to escape,” he told him quickly. “So it’s a good thing we ran into each other when we did. Now we can work together.”

“Except for the fact that we don’t know where we’ll end up,” Yeosang pointed out as he sunk into a chair. “I’m not keen on running straight into enemy territory.”

“Unless San is there,” Wooyoung corrected him quickly.

“It’s still suicide,” Yeosang warned softly. “All I know for now is that we accompany the Crow from Panhang to intercept the Haemin fleet.”

“The Black Crow,” Wooyoung groaned as he was reminded, pulling up a chair opposite Yeosang. “What if the Admiral sees us? Don’t you think he’ll jump at the opportunity to kill us off? It shouldn’t be too difficult to frame as a casualty of war. I say we jump ship before we reach Panhang.”

“He won’t while my father is with him,” Yeosang insisted. “Father may hate me but he doesn’t want me dead, that would mean the end of his family name.”

Wooyoung thought back to the last night they’d seen one another, the lantern light bouncing off gentle waves in the harbour, the dark scowl on the Head Navigator’s face.

“How... how have things been between you?” He asked hesitantly, not expecting anything good.

“It’s over between us,” Yeosang scoffed. “I’m not speaking to him unless I have to.”

And hopefully, that day would never come.

“Wooyoung, I...” Yeosang began again after a companionable moment of silence. “I have bad news.” There was no point in putting it off.

His voice was witheringly soft, and he looked like the slightest noise could put him over the edge.

Under the table, Wooyoung’s legs began to shake. Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded for Yeosang to go on.

“I went to see Seonghwa’s coronation at the palace, and he told me about the execution. He told me, well... he heard that...”

“Hongjoong’s dead, isn’t he?”

Because if Wooyoung couldn’t say it out loud, he would never begin to accept it.

Yeosang simply exhaled shakily and inclined his head ever so slightly like the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. He didn’t want to accept it either.

Wooyoung knew he had pessimistic leanings due to his upbringing, but there had remained a spark of hope in him. When he considered how many people the information came to him through, or when he considered Hongjoong’s own confidence that he would make it out alive... it didn’t seem possible that he could live in a world where this was the truth.

He couldn’t live in a world without him.

The feeling that rushed in on receiving the confirmation of his worst fears, fears that he had pushed to the far corner of his mind to avoid dealing with, was a strange and disquieting mixture of pain, loss, and relief.

Relief that he could drop his head into his hands and shake with tears without being bothered for it. Relief that he was no longer waiting on bad news to catch up with him all while running away from it. Relief that he wouldn’t have to deliver such news himself.

“How could this happen...”

Such an undignified end after everything he’d survived already. Wooyoung wished he had been there.

“I don’t know,” came the hushed and helpless answer. “I can only hope Mingi, Yunho, Jongho, and San are safe and far away from this war like Hongjoong wanted them to be.”

Hongjoong had told them to save themselves, and they had ended up on a warship anyway.

Those agonising days in the prison at Namhae drifted back into memory while Wooyoung dried his eyes. 

The wind on the beams continued to blow while Yeosang settled down, gently taking Wooyoung’s hands in his and inspecting them. There was a cold emptiness inside now that the message had been relayed.

“You’ve healed,” he noticed aloud, voice soft yet discernable over the outside gusts. 

Wooyoung nodded and shifted to get a better look at his friend. “Have you?”

Yeosang startled and almost pulled away, but Wooyoung kept his grip on him. “I— yes, you know I did. Nothing was broken.”

Still he couldn’t escape Wooyoung’s knowing eyes. Not after everything they’d been through.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted after a moment. That much he could promise, now that they’d found each other. 

...

The ever present fog made it difficult, but Yunho kept his eyes peeled for ships. Regardless of what colours they were flying, they were enemies, and that meant caution was of the utmost importance.

The plan was relayed to the men who waited, ready to cast off at a moment’s notice, and the four officers set out for the beach. The maze would be a hindrance to deal with, but it was better than docking at the town on the other side of the island and potentially being spotted by soldiers.

The shore batteries had been bombarded by Mingi’s counterattack on their last visit, which made them a perfectly unsuspecting vantage point to keep watch from.

Jongho scaled the stone steps of the bell tower, half of which was decimated, and borrowed Yunho’s spyglass. “I’ll put up a flag if I see anything,” he assured them. “No flares. Don’t want to give away our position.”

Although loath to leave him alone, it was best to finish the mission quickly, so the other three hurried down to the tree line and fought their way through the vines until they reached the entrance to the maze.

“Far right path,” Mingi instructed immediately, remembering how Hongjoong said he got in last year. The maze was only slight less well kept than it had been in Seonghwa and Yunho’s memory, occasional branches jutting out at awkward angles and bush roots stretching across their path. 

It sent a strangle tingle down their spines to return to such a memorable and significant place under wildly different circumstances.

The wrought iron gate was unlocked but closed when they reached it, and Seonghwa rested his hand on the bars before pushing gently and hoping it wouldn’t squeak. Eyes widening, Seonghwa suddenly threw his arm out and pressed back into the shrubbery. Yunho and Mingi followed, confused but obedient, until he explained.

“Soldiers in the courtyard.”

“Now what?” Yunho groaned. “We can’t risk gunfire if we don’t know how many are inside.”

“There should be a secret library somewhere on the third floor,” Mingi wracked his brain for a solution and took a step back to scan the building in front of them again. The top was just visible over the towering greenery.

“There!” He exclaimed, grabbing Seonghwa’s arm. “A sunroof. We can rappel down.”

Seonghwa sighed but nodded, watching intently and waiting for the soldiers to go back inside for dinner. 

It was only about ten minutes, but it felt like longer. Listening to their idle conversation was mildly amusing until the men dropped off into silence, but soon they had shut themselves into their hall and the courtyard was free.

“Here,” Yunho grunted, throwing the rope until it latched on to a ceiling tile and handing it to Mingi, who looked surprised. “You suggested it!” 

Begrudgingly, Mingi grasped the rope in his hands and began to climb, Yunho and Seonghwa following silently.

They had to mind the windows, but made it onto the roof safely, Mingi popping open the sunroof panel and securing the rope to the inner latch while he waited.

After a thorough scan of the inside, what appeared to be a bedroom, all three lowered themselves stealthily, only breaking face when a figure in the room startled and tipped over in his reading chair.

“Maddox? It’s alright, we’re friends of Hongjoong’s!” Mingi panted, holding out his hand. 

“Mingi?” The older man hissed in disbelief as he peeled out from behind the chair.

“Yes, it’s me. We’re here to rescue you.”

...

“It’s Lucky.”

“Look! There he goes.”

“The lucky prisoner...”

Hongjoong ignored the hushed whispers all over the main deck and the way the freezing wind nipped at his nose, but tilted back his head and let it toss his hair. It didn’t matter what they said.

Even a sea breeze that stung your cheeks was a sea breeze, and no one could take the moment away from him.

Byun was at his elbow, a guilty sort of tension emanating from him as he guided the prisoner up to the quarterdeck where Admiral Kim stood and looked down his nose at the both of them. A man Hongjoong assumed was Head Navigator Kang stood to his left. From his familiar features and general air of displeasure, he had a feeling he was correct.

“So I hear you need my help,” Hongjoong smirked, voice quiet but deadly.

Kim just scowled at him, white-rimmed lips pressed firmly together until he snatched the charts from Navigator Kang, rolling them open and casting his eyes away.

“Our spies report mass shipbuilding behind Haemin borders, but none of our fleet have encountered more than two ships at a time,” Kim explained, indicating the locations of the attacks on the map.

They were all lined up along the trade routes, concentrated to the east around the rim of the nearest Jaecho colonies.  

As Hongjoong moved to get a closer look, he enjoyed the way the Admiral visibly became irritated by the jangle of his chains.

He was no longer bolted to the floor but his arms were still restrained and as much as Kim was annoyed by the sound, he wasn’t stupid enough to unlock the cuffs and risk an escape attempt.

“Their strategy is to wear you out with unpredictable strikes along the islands,” Hongjoong surmised as he inspected the charts. “If one ship goes down, it’s replaced by another. They won’t form ranks like you, they’re much more... surreptitious.”

“Then why focus on the colonies? They made it all the way to the capital once, why not march in again?” Kim bit out, yanking the map back over to his side of the table. Kang gently collected it, as if afraid in his anger the Admiral might shred the thing.

“To spread you thin. To wear you out, starve you, frustrate you,” Hongjoong listed off. “Safe access to trade routes and supplies is vital— I should know!” After all, he was usually the person disrupting them.

“So you’re saying we should engage their puny boats in the east instead of strike their homeland and end the war in one fell swoop?” Kim challenged, stepping closer and waiting for the prisoner to back down.

He didn’t.

“Unless you want to lose your territory, yes.”

The two stared each other down and no one else dared move, not even the anxiously hovering Byun whose idea the entire encounter was, until a bird appeared on the horizon and landed atop the rigging, a case attached to its leg.

Lieutenant Park climbed up to retrieve it and handed it to the Navigator, ending the standoff.

“A messenger bird with correspondence. A convoy of Haemin ships has been sighted just south of the colonies,” Kang reported, passing the scroll to the Admiral. Not even glancing at Hongjoong, he began orders. 

“We have the heading, it’s time to move.”

There was a suppressed exhilaration that bubbled up inside Hongjoong when the Crow went underway.

It was that feeling he missed, when there’s one rope between you and the ocean— you and death.

He was joined by Park while he stood at the railing, reaching his chained hands down to feel what misty spray he could.

“What is it?” Hongjoong finally asked when the lieutenant had gone an uncharacteristic full five minutes without talking.

“I saw it in the correspondence...” he muttered nervously, eyes on the Admiral’s back to make sure he wasn’t paying attention. “Our enemies aren’t just interrupting trade and taking over island colonies.”

Hongjoong pulled back and looked at him, confused. Park was shaking his head helplessly but delivered the bad news nonetheless.

“They think Prince Seonghwa is with us, and they’re looking for him, to- to kill him.”

...

Due to the trust he had gained on the Haemin ship over the past few weeks, San almost felt sad to be leaving them soon.

Almost.

When land was only a few hours off, he concocted a sleeping draught with supplies from the infirmary and told his translator it was medicine for a patient. It was a strong enough brew to knock out his guards long enough for him to swim to shore.

Regardless of how he felt about his imprisonment, San wasn’t a monster. He ensured that all his patients were cared for in the meantime, working tirelessly to lower fevers, hack off limbs, and clean wounds. They would all survive in his absence, and he didn’t leave until he was sure of that fact.

Except for the loneliness, it almost felt like being home. Why he had ever considered leaving the ATEEZ back in the day was a mystery to him now. All that pain and regret from his previous trip to these parts had washed away long ago.

San didn’t know where along the road he’d lost his purpose, but he needed to return to the road to get it back, wherever it ended up taking him.

This cramped, stinking warship was not the right place.

He had hoped for so long that his mysterious pursuer was Wooyoung, and that Wooyoung would find him. And then he had gone too far, farther than he could follow. If he was lucky, perhaps Wooyoung hadn’t given up on him yet.

Sudden noise from the main deck prompted him and his translator to join the soldiers outside.

“Land,” the man told him redundantly as they watched the speck grow larger.

San knew it well.

It was Maddox’s Island.

...

Introductions were quick, and without even knowing why, Maddox was instructed to pack his things as quickly as possible.

“Why didn’t you just use the door?” He scoffed as he shoved some loose change into a bag. “Hongjoong has been here once, he should’ve showed you.”

Silence penetrated the room and slowly Maddox turned around, noting his absence.

“Where is he, then? Hongjoong?”

“Killed by Admiral Kim,” Seonghwa told him, solemn and ice cold in his delivery. “A few months ago.”

Maddox needed to sit down again.

“But he— he wasn’t...” he shook his head to collect his thoughts. “He was on his way to find Eden, Kim should never have gotten his hands on him.”

“Actually...” Yunho sighed. “We did find Eden. We were on our way back to the mainland because of Babylon, who I think you’ll remember.”

Maddox’s face darkened, even as his eyes betrayed his distress, like he didn’t know who to blame for this. “You came here for me?” He suddenly realised, brows raising halfway to his hairline in shock.

“It’s what he would have wanted,” Seonghwa explained. “We’re breaking out as many of his friends as we can find and starting fresh far away from the Navy.”

“Well, I certainly won’t keep you waiting,” the older pirate scoffed before collecting a few more of his things and glancing at the rope still hanging from the ceiling. “I suppose that’s also our way out.”

“The soldiers won’t spot us that way,” Mingi explained as Yunho and Seonghwa headed up, motioning for Maddox to follow and then bringing up the rear. With practiced ease, they descended the side of the tower and made their way across the courtyard.

“We make for your ship?” Maddox asked in a whisper.

Mingi nodded. “It would be ideal to get out of here without anyone even knowing.”

Just as he finished speaking, the boom of gunfire blasted to their right near Jongho’s position. Mingi grasped his gun and searched frantically for the decimated bell tower.

A red flag was hanging.

“So stupid,” he chided himself through gritted teeth. “How could I forget to check?”

Before anyone could stop him, he barrelled ahead and raced to the tower, hoping against hope that he would reach Jongho in time.

The disorienting fogginess of the maze slowed him down significantly, and by the time he reached the shore there was an unconscious Jongho, being dragged away by enemy soldiers.

“Hey!” Mingi screamed across the beach, aiming his weapon. “Let him go and I won’t kill you.”

The soldiers looked surprised to see him and debated with each other in a foreign language. Mingi realised with a jolt that they were from Haemin. He clicked off the safety but hesitated.

I should just shoot now.

Jongho had been dropped in the sand and Mingi’s hairs stood on end. Where were the others? Had they fallen so far behind?

He was out of time.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers drew his gun and fired.

Unable to move completely out of the way in time, Mingi dodged to his right even as the searing pain of a bullet grazing his face sent him to the ground.

Blood was pouring into his eye, so all he could see was red that wilted into consuming black and the flashes of pulsating with pain.

Through his remaining eye, he watched Jongho be rowed away onto an enemy ship while he was left for dead.

...

San expected to be sent to his battle station where he could drug whoever happened to be guarding him at the time and slip away in the chaos.

Instead, he was led down to the brig again with some of the other prisoners to watch through the portholes as a pair of men rowed out to investigate the island themselves.

What he gathered from the others was that their captain thought the island looked to be deserted or destroyed in some other battle and assumed no one would be there. 

A very foolish move, one San should’ve expected from the incompetent drunkard. In this world, it should always be shoot first, ask questions later.

For a good half hour nothing happened, until a red flag went up in one of the bell towers and the action began in earnest.

To San, it was a relief.

Easily, he overpowered the guard and forced the draught down his throat, collecting the supplies he’d lain out in the infirmary while everyone was distracted, and preparing to lower himself in one of the longboats while the returning spies rushed their new prisoner on board.

Something deep inside told San to turn his head before he pulleyed down, and so he did. In a lightning flash, his heart dropped.

The unconscious body was Jongho’s. San didn’t know how or why, but it was him.

He didn’t question for a moment whether to abandon his plan. San threw off his bag and ran towards the chained figure.

Escape would have to wait.

...

Taglist: @serendipityunho @celestial-yunho @atzjjongbby @89staytinyzen21

A/N: I’m very close to the finish line of the semester, so I’ll be back in my usual swing in the next week or so, no worries :) There’s some shifting going on this chapter, and a lot of action is about to go down next time hehehe so stay tuned and let me know what you thought!! Happy birthday Wooyoung and Happy Thanksgiving ;)

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[notyetneedcoffee]

No Secrets, Part 6

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

You studied Steve’s smiling face on the screen. Even though the faint dimple on his left cheek showed, his eyes held... something... that held back his normal vibrant joy. Perhaps fatigue, you thought, noticing the rare hint of darkened skin and redness. Hair damp and wearing a tight gray tee, Steve looked to be freshly showered. You wanted to see him in person, not over a video feed.

"So,” You smiled. “How’d things go?”

“Fine. No issues.” He sighed, eyes going soft. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.” You chewed on your lower lip. “I suppose you heard about my spectacularly bad decision.”

He nodded, growing serious. “Lot of paperwork.”

“I'm sure.”

“Lot of worry, too.” He scolded.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You looked down to the tea in your hands. Sighing, you asked. “Any chance you may come visit me?”

A teasing grin pulled at his full lips. “Feeling lonely, Honey?”  

“Lonely. Stir crazy. Bored.” You rolled your eyes before smiling. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“Good things, I hope.”

You wondered how much you could tease him. “Oh, good. Very good. So good some of it’s bad.”

He sighed your name, blushing slightly. “Don’t tease.”

“Who’s teasing?” You giggled.  

Steve grinned, but that ghost of something returned and the smile faded. “You said that because you could tell what I was thinking, that you would be completely honest. Regardless of how long this effect lasts, you and I will be honest with each other. No matter what. Even when it’s hard.”

“Yeah, Steve, I meant it.” You sighed, wishing you could reach through the screen and touch him. “What’s wrong?”

He stared off camera for a long while, out his window, like he was weighing his words. When he spoke, he did not look back at the screen. “If you never realized what I was thinking when I was around you, if this thing never happened, would you have become Buck’s gal if he’d asked?”

And there it is... you thought. They’d talked.

“Hypothetically?” You sighed. Steve still wasn’t looking at the computer. “If Bucky approached me... if he asked me out... if I felt like our friendship could grow into a romantic relationship... and if you were stupid enough not to say anything before any of that happened... then, yeah, probably.”

Steve frowned. “Would you have preferred...”

“Steve. Stop it.” You ordered. “Don’t circle around the hypothetical questions. I DO know how you feel. I’m happy I know, no matter how it came about. So, if you have a real question, please ask. Otherwise, let go of all the ‘could have’ and ‘would have’ and ‘what if’ worries. Please.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. A frown creased his brow. “Sorry.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I’m tired, not thinking straight.”

“I wish I was there.” You wanted to crawl onto his lap and hold him. He nodded again. “Are you home for a while?” Steve shook his head, suddenly looking tired. Disappointment flooded over you. “What?”

“I was going to call you when we first got in, but I ended up in, ah, conversation. Then I got pulled into a briefing. Sam, Bucky, and I are wheels up in just another hour.”  

“So, no visit?” You didn’t mean to whine, but did.

“Sorry, no visit, Honey.” Steve didn’t look happy about it either. “I’d much rather be there with you.” A sly smile spread. “Now that I’ve held you, kissed you... it’s all I can think about.”

“It’s a pretty good thought.” You smiled, kind of happy the conversation had gone full circle.  

“That it is.” He laughed, and it lit his eyes.

“When do you come home? I want to see you.”

“Hopefully within a week.” Steve leaned a little forward. “I’ve got to get ready to go. Be safe, and please don’t go wondering into town.”

A harsh buzz pulled you from a dead sleep. Sitting straight up, you grabbed your phone on instinct. Natasha was calling you at 3:16 am. She hadn’t called since you left the compound. You croaked. “Yeah, yeah, I’m up.”

“The boys got hit hard. Took Thor and code green to get them out. Quinjet is forty minutes out.” Her voice was quiet, calm and clipped.  

“Their status?” You swallowed.

“Wilson is going to need surgery. Barnes and Cap both took multiple shots. We got the blood loss under control, so they’ll heal up.”

Closing your eyes, you pulled your knees up to your chest. “I appreciate the situation report.”

“Not calling to give you a sit-rep.” He voice quieted. “You should get your ass to the med lab.”

“Thought you and Tony didn’t want me in your head.”  

“Not planning on being there,” She huffed a little. “And Tony can do whatever the hell he wants. Everyone else on the team was part of the rescue. You should at least have the chance to be there when we bring them in.”

“Thanks, Nat.” You jumped off the bed. “Forty minutes?”

“Thirty-seven.” She cut the connection.  

The early hour meant the drive back to the compound went by uneventfully. The minimal staff at the compound made moving through the halls easier, too.  The doctor and three nurses met you at the med wing entrance.

‘Better not disrupt my med bay.’ The doctor extended a hand. “We were told you’d be here. Take up a place over there. The trauma team is bringing them up now. Stay out of the way until one of us say you can come up.”

The trauma team came through the doors in a rush with Sam on the gurney. A blood-soaked dressing was tied just above his hip and two IVs hung from poles on the gurney.  They went by in a blur and straight into the operating suite.  

Two more medics pushed in a gurney with Steve on it. Dirt and blood covered his body. His suit appeared shredded, bloody wounds showing beneath. His head lolled to the side, eyes barely open. He saw you and his mouth opened as if to speak. They pushed him through a set of double doors before he could.  

‘Oh, Honey, thank God you’re here. You’re here. Love you.’

They pushed Bucky pass you. His unconscious form a shock. Someone had torn his body armor off and cut away the cloth from his right thigh. One of the medics held a large dressing against it. ‘Got get his volume up. He’s lost too much blood. Had to have hit the femoral.’  

‘No. No, drugs!’ Steve’s thoughts came through clear as a shout. ‘Got to get up! Where’s Buck! Where’s Sam!’

You pushed into Steve’s room. One nurse was stitching up a wound under his collar bone, the other stood aside with a syringe. “If he doesn’t want the pain killer, then don’t give it to him.” You snapped. “Unless you’re going to help patch him up, then why don’t you go get a status on the others. That will calm him down faster than anything.”

‘Whatever.’ She left the room.  

You rushed forward and kissed his chapped lips. He sighed. ‘Love.’

“Where are you hurt?" You whispered, resting your forehead against his temple. 

“Through and though of the upper chest, left bicep, a graze on the left shoulder.” The nurse listed off, without rushing. “Broken tib-fib, but they set it on the jet so it’ll mend without intervention.” She sighed. “Cap, you need food and lots of water. Let me set you up with a bag of IV ringers at least. No reason to feel like garbage while you’re heeling up.”

He nodded. She pulled out the kit. “When I’m done, I’ll check on Sam. They were taking him to surgery.”

“Thanks.” He muttered. Squeezing your fingers, he watched her slip the needle in. ‘Ugh. Hate that.’

You smiled to yourself. He could take a 9mm bullet but grumbled at needles. The nurse moved with quick efficient certainty and left. You kissed him again. He hummed. ‘Love you. Love you so much.’

“I love you, too.” You whispered against his lips.

‘Yes, thank God.’ Steve gave you a weary smile that faded as soon as the door opened and the first nurse entered.

“Sergeant Barnes is unconscious, although they’ve stopped all the bleeding and have scanned for any internal issues.”

Steve groaned, trying to sit up. You put your hand on his shoulder. “Steve, stay put.”

“No.” Steve growled out. ‘Not letting him wake up without knowing someone there.’

“You can’t walk on that leg. Not yet.” The nurse bit out.

“Then bring a chair.” You helped him swing his legs over. “Now!”  

The other nurse who seemed to know Steve came in with the chair. Either she heard or just understood his stubbornness. “Wilson will be in surgery for at least another couple hours, but he’ll be fine. Doc just wants to make sure he has a full recovery.”

“Thanks, Kim.” Steve pivoted on one foot and dropped into the chair. ‘Thank god. Now get the hell out of the way.’

You wheeled Steve into the adjacent room. Bucky lay on the bed, stripped down. Still covered in dirt and blood, but great swipes of antiseptic circled the multiple wounds. The jagged wound across his thigh looked ugly and vicious. “What caused that?”

“Flying piece of metal. It was an old mill. I think it was from an industrial saw.” Steve said through clenched teeth. ‘Should have known better. Dammit. We should not have gone in.’

“Don’t, Steve.” You squeezed his hand. “He’ll be okay.”

One of the male nurses came in to check the readings and change Bucky’s IV bag. He and Steve exchanged pleasantries. Something startled Bucky awake. His hand came up striking the nurse across the room. He jumped up, only to have his leg collapse under him. Equipment crashed to the ground as you rushed toward him.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted, standing but not moving.

Buck’s eyes were huge, unfocused. You knelt before him, eye to eye. “Bucky! Buck, you’re safe. Sweetie. You’re safe.”

‘No! Get out! No! Fuck! Doll? Thank god.’ Bucky’s hands grabbed you roughly, pulling you forward, pulling onto his lap despite his wounds. His arms wrapped around you, face burying in your throat. ‘Breathe. Breathe.’

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” You ran your hands through his tangled hair. “You’re home. You’re okay.”

Bucky rocked you, forcing himself to breathe, otherwise calm.

‘Never seen anyone else do that. Never seen anyone else pull him from the edge so fast.’

You looked over your shoulder at Steve, tears in your eyes from the release of terror flowing off Bucky. Fingers rubbed along his scalp as you made quiet shushing noises. Bucky took a deep breath and coughed. He still breathed you in like you were the source of all oxygen. “Doll, dammit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”  

“No,” You sniffed. “But you may owe Jimmy an apology.”  

“Stevie?”

“Right here.” Steve spoke, voice think. “Sam’s in surgery.”

Bucky’s head came up. The two men stared at each other over your shoulder.  

‘Know you love her, pal. Please, please, don’t make me give this up. She feels safe.’

‘You love her so much. I see it. It’s okay. It’s not the same. I get it.’

You pressed you tear wet cheek against Bucky’s hair. “Let’s get you up, Buck. I’m not doing your wounds any good leaning on them like this. You need fluids, baby, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

He nodded. It was awkward and you strained to help him onto the bed again, but he didn’t argue. The nurse from Steve’s room, Kim, was back. You stayed by his side until she started the IV. She covered him with a blanket. “Lie here until you get two of those bags in you, then I’ll make sure you get moved back to your quarters to recoup. Okay, Bucky?”

“Yeah, I’ll be a good boy.” Buck tried to smile weakly.  

“Same goes for you, Cap.” She turned to where he sat.  

He gave her a smile. “Sound good.” Then Steve’s eyes locked on yours. ‘Want to go home with you.’  

You gave him a small nod even though your hand still ran through Bucky’s hair.  

A/N: Just one part left!

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[moderninsight]

A Love Like That (The curious case of Him & Her, Reprise)

Days become weeks and weeks become months and soon it’s half past and then some. It hasn’t been 365, not yet - not quite. It may very well be for it’s been 278 since her all consuming heartbreak. 

She remembers when her heart was set on fire. Too much had happened, too much was at stake and too much was lov(ed) and too much was lost. An epic heartbreak warfare mess and the wildfire had run ‘round in its own madness. But the flames were soon flooded by the monsoon in her heart and she was left in the ashes of the love she had so freely gave. When love leaves you, time stops and the world as you know it reverberates to its core creating tremors and aftershocks galore. A burn so slow, so treacherous that it left her gasping for air on days without end. She remembers the exact moment her heart was wrenched open, bleeding for every minute of every hour of every God damn day. Mind-filled, heart-heavy and tear-stained, barely breathing through corrupted lungs. And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could not put her back together again. For this kind of heartbreak had no pain relief, not when all she knew betrayed her for lack of true effort and she was traded in for a good (e a s y) time over a good thing. Too much had happened, too much was at stake and too much was lov(ed) and too much was lost and r e p l a c e d - just like that. And in due time, her rose coloured glasses shattered and she saw him for what he really was - a lost little boy masquerading as a man. 

They say “time heals all wounds” and so it goes, and so it shows. But she now knows that time just moves you along with no choice and no say and she sank too far and too long that she f i n a l l y decides to swim and not sink. She puts on a brave face (God, how exhausting) and all on her own she picks up the pieces and soldiers on. 

So she catches flights, still in her feelings and puts in a woman’s work. She gets lost in Japan with her wounded heart, dragging it along the kaleidoscope of Tokyo lights and eating away the night sublime. She bullets over to Kyoto and tries to take in the serene but the dull ache in her chest is all she feels. She takes her heart next through Korea to the Philippines where she reunites with her family after 10 long years. She laughs, she cries and lives a little more. She delights in the palm trees, sea breeze and the loudness of it all. She doesn’t know if it’s more fun in the Philippines but she does know it’s more fun with her smile. Then she’s off to Orlando for a Disney adventure, screaming from the tallest heights and rushing through torrential downpour in what truly is The Happiest place on Earth. Then she’s back on cloud nine and finds herself dancing through Havana nights, a city truly frozen in time. She relishes in losing the outside world and roaming through rainbow buildings and retro cars, falling asleep to Cuban lullabies. Then she’s running through the 6ix with less of her woes and remembers the last time she was in Toronto. Doe eyed and naive but fast forward to today, she’s feeling 28. Here’s to another year she muses, here’s to more life, more heart and MORE HER. And soon enough she’s back home and no longer the girl she once was, broken and in disarray but a woman in search of her word. She may have lost the battle but she’s clearly winning the war. 

In the midst of it all she had already put herself out there. Unsure, unready and so very afraid but she hits download anyway. The whole thing is daunting and the fear inescapable but when is anyone ever ready for anything anyway? So she jumps head first (for once) and heart after. She swipes left aplenty but swipes right on a few and - It’s a match!

She doesn’t know what to think of him at first, ‘cause she left him on read as she plane hopped in June but his interest was engaging and oh so soon they exchange numbers and “Can I call you?” 

His voice catches her off guard - older and more refined and so sure of himself as they spoke of everyday things. And next thing you know they set a date and she’s standing in the movie theatre with a nervous fervor. They’re thrilled by swinging spiders far from home and endless conversation and next thing you know it’s past midnight and she’s found herself intrigued beyond belief. The next few weeks are filled with his smile, his laughter and boyish jokes 

[*sunglasses on, hat on* “This is my running like an actor look” to “Where’d all these cars come from? It’s like the Avengers rolled through, slow down Spider-Man!”]

But nothing excites her more than the way he stimulates her mind [”You know we’re an anomoly, You and I”] 

She finds herself glowing in this connection they’ve created, talking of near misses of years past [”we were both in Langara at the same time!” and “just gonna go back in time and be like see you in 5 years?”] to a soft familiarity as if she’s supposed to have known him before [”I used to fly LA all the time, pretty sure you were my gate agent once maybe twice”].  

But it’s the little things she’ll never forget and the little things he’s done for her in such a short amount of time. From car rides home, Bazzi’s 3:15 and singing to old school jams and Backstreet Boys. And God, he doesn’t know it but boy could he sing. And every time he did, her heart skipped a little faster than it should. 

He takes her to nature, hand-holding, eye-glancing and steal-kissing. And soon enough he feels like summer. From sunrises to sunsets to before midnights and to his handsome cockiness she decides that she likes. “What’s your type?” She’s not sure, she likes what she likes but if she really had to choose he’d be her type. And he tells her that she’s different [”yeah I’m different”] But there’s still a garden in her heart and the walls are very high. They joke that they’re “friends with feelings” but then the elephant in the room was always looming and she knew perhaps it was too good to be true. He chalks it up to “timing,” the invariable third party in the tango of life. 

Her heart sinks a little because he nips it in the bud before anything can really bloom and she thinks it’s a shame because she knows they could be so much more than just g r e a t. And in the end, she wishes he would stay. [”I know what i’m missing out on,” he quietly says] Ah, at least somebody does. 

But she’s never felt this before...as though a missed opportunity had passed them by but she gets it, she understands. God, she understands. He’s always been upfront with his convictions and they still joke through it all and she respects him all the more but damn, what a shame. She hopes they can still be friends, minus the feelings (maybe) because he’s cool enough to kick it but who knows she may never hear from him again...and so it goes, so it shows (See you in 5 years? hah). 

And for a split second she allows herself to play make believe, thinking of the would have’s, could have’s, should have’s they could be. You find someone you like and you roll the die and the hand she’s been dealt had folded too quick - and that’s okay. But there’s always a pendulum swing and what goes down must come back up. So she’s grateful for his charm and the mind he has that she so wishes she could still pick. And the gratitude still wells in her heart for she’s writing again and she has him to truly thank. s i g h. 

So days become weeks and weeks become months and soon it’s half past and then some. It hasn’t been 365, not yet - not quite. It may very well be for it’s been 278 since her all consuming heartbreak. 

But she knows she’s a woman worth pursuing, who grows only in love with herself even more. And a woman who loves herself is deadly for that she is sure. Her resilience astounding, her drive alluring and forever searching from the depths of her world-building soul. It’s hard being a dreamer in a realist world but that’s what’ll make you fall in love with her. She thought she was a woman in search of her word but she’s always known what it was. She may have forgotten for a moment in the midst of all that madness but now she knows she’s truly a work of heART. 

And real love? It does make canyons out of mountains and divide oceans apart. It isn’t just about making someone feel special, anyone can do that. Again, real love is a real work of heART - just like her. And when love finds you, let it in. And when love finds you...let it show, let it grow. Love is made with the fondness of sighs, a perserving sweet and a fire in lover’s eyes. Hardened hearts yet open eyes and a touch of vulnerability sealed with a kiss after a long day’s night. And when the right people come into your life, there’s no such thing as “timing”, no barrier it can’t overcome because when real love finds you...it’s t i m e l e s s and those kind of people are always right. 

She’s still afraid of falling but she’s no longer scared of heights for she knows she can give a love like that.

Hey google, play “Love like That” by Snoh Aalegra

[officialleehadan]

Queen’s Blessing

 Tom turned around to look out the window. The football team was running around the field, and farther past them he could see students out eating their lunch in the scant sun.

When he turned around, there was a woman sitting in the chair across from his desk.

Hel Lokidotter was elegant, and her smile, half-hidden under her white mask, was knowing in a way that was terribly uncomfortable to look at for long.

“The school is very handsome after being rebuilt,” she commented, her delicate accent flavoring every word as if she told a story of ancient heroes. “And in such a short time.”

Tom looked around, not sure what to make of her sudden appearance, and the way her eyes, one clear and blue, the other covered by barely-transparent white gauze, seemed to see much more than they should.

“We received several generous grants to rebuild,” he said cautiously. “Contractors above and beyond the emergeancy aid we received.

He still had nightmares about the twelve terrible hours he spent, trapped in the rubble with one coworker and eighteen teenagers. About the sound of water under them, and the cries of three boys who were almost killed, if not for one girl who was far more than anyone ever thought.

“Building always goes faster with the right sort of help,” Hel smiled, amused at some private joke. She sat back in her chair, feet clad in impressively high heels, and legs crossed neatly at the ankle, a lady to the last.  “Cassandra told me what happened.”

Tom froze.

“I don’t’ know what you mean,” he tried to deflect the comment casually, and sank down to sit on his desk. “It was… pretty terrible, in all honesty, but Cassandra did good. All the kids did good, honestly. I don’t’ know if I could have kept it together like that at their age.”

“But not all of them could lift a steel beam,” Hel said, sweet, but with the watchful air of a preditor on the hunt, or a queen who saw weakness in her opponent. “Or hear the rushing of a broken pipe floors beneath them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tom said stubbornly, and Hel laughed at him.

“Of course you do,” she said, delighted with him for some reason, her lips curled in a wicked smile. “But you are a good liar. You saw her use Jormandgr’s Blessing to save your life, and her own. Only a little while later, you watched her lift a beam no five men could lift together. Look me in the eye, human, and tell me who you think we are.”

There was a trap in there somewhere. Tom could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising as she watched him, completely still.

She wasn’t breathing.

“It’s not really a guess, is it?” he asked slowly, and met her gaze. “Loki only ever had one daughter in the stories. Should I be calling you Your Majesty?”

Hel threw her head back, laughing, and Tom caught a glimpse of flackened skin and white bone under the curve of her jaw, where her high collar and the mask didn’t quite meet.

“Silly mortal,” she said, and patted his hand, fingers cold even through her gloves. “Can you imagine Cassandra’s face if she heard you say that? No, I think not. You know my name. Use it.”

“I feel weird calling a goddess by her first name,” Tom muttered, and fought the urge to kneel before the Queen of Helheim. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why would I do that?” Hel asked curiously, and waved for him to take a proper seat. “Your work is not yet finished, Healer.”

“I’m just a guidance counselor,” Tom protested, but quieted when  she raised a hand to stop him.

“You heal the minds of the young,” she told him kindly, and with a very wise smile that was more reassuring than it should be. “Perhaps if someone like you had been there for my family, we would not have had such tragedy.”

“So, tell me how I can help?” Tom never had been able to resist a lady in need, and he still couldn’t now. “What can I do? You said it yourself. I’m just a human.”

“A human who protects the children,” Hel murmured. She caught his hand in one of hers, and pulled out, of all things, a blue sharpie. With quick, sure strokes, she drew a line of runes down his palm, following his life-line. The ink was cold, and Tom tried to pull away, only to discover that she was far stronger than he. “Stay still.”

“What is that?” Tom asked, entirely spooked as the ink changed on his skin and took on a soft glow. “What are you doing?”

“Carry with you, my Blessing,” Hel told him, and let him go, before dropping the sharpie back into her elegant leather purse. “You will know what it is for when you need it.”

+++

The Last of Loki’s Brood:

Cassandra Brann is a Troubled Student. She is difficult, at best, defiant at worst, and has more secrets than a dozen spies. 

And her family is worse.

BeLIEve Me

Family Gathered

Red-Gold and Silver-Grey

Prophesy Unheeded

Strength in the Dark

Queen’s Blessing

+++

More Stories!

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[gremlinkween]

Bad Moon Rising

Part 1: Out on the Water

Summary: The reader finds and rescues a hurt merman who tells her that his name is Jim. She helps him without a second thought, but his presence might attract the attention of other supernatural creatures she never knew existed. This will eventually be a foursome (Jim Mason x Michael Langdon x Duncan Shepard x Reader). Mythology/supernatural au.

A/N: This is a repost with some editing thrown in! Yay! I’ll be working on getting this done and new stuff in between each other so it doesn’t get too repetitive! This is just a chance for fans to get excited again and see nicer writing and for new people to find it! Also, let me know if you want to be on the tag list! 

Warnings: No smut yet, sorry. There is blood, injury, reader gets hurt, near drowning, medical stuff, and that’s about it!

Word Count: 3.1k

Tagging List: N/A

Sure, this wasn’t prime fishing time, but she couldn’t deal with the silent house anymore. She needed to be out here with the moon and the water. She realized that they might be her only friends right now. Sure, Rory was a good neighbor, but she felt odd going to him and dumping all of her problems on him. She knew he understood, but her pride just wouldn’t let her. There was always Lily, but sometimes life just got in between them and it was hard to meet up when they needed to.

So, to the quiet deep water it was. The moon shined bright over the water and the only sound was the waves gently lapping at the boat. A breath of relief escaped her lips. At least there was peace to be found out here, and she slowly felt the tension slip from her muscles. All was well right in this moment.

Suddenly, there was a disturbance in the water to the starboard side that made her jump. This really wasn’t the time for the fish and she got up from her seat to look over the side of the boat, seeing if whatever it was would do it again. Then, it did. She was utterly confused, she caught a glimpse of flesh and scales. It made no sense, and it was much closer than she anticipated. She waited with bated breath, not sure what to make of it.

Then a head emerged from the water. The most angelic boy she had ever seen, but something was off about his face. It was like there were soft iridescent scales wear humans would place highlighter. It looked nothing short of breathtaking in this light. The biggest thing that worried her was how his face twisted in pain as he struggled with something under the water.

“Are you hurt?” She called, not sure what to make of this situation but someone or something was hurt and she wasn’t just going to leave him to his own devices.

His head whipped to the sound of her voice and he paled even more, looking truly terrified that she saw him, and he dove under the water.

“Wait no!” She yelled, “Let me help you!” She didn’t wait for a response though, she was already grabbing her diving knife and leaping over the side of the ship. The freezing water of the Pacific greeted her, but she didn’t care. She was grateful for the full moon because she could actually see tonight, and she saw what the problem was. He was trapped in a net with one of those horrible whale traps that had pierced the bottom joint above the large tail fin. Most would probably be lost in the realization of what this creature was, but all she saw was a someone who needed help.

He looked up to see her approaching with a knife in between her teeth, and he started panicking, having no way of knowing what her intentions were, so he struggled more, only embedding the steel hook into his flesh further and making the net constrict. She fought to swim faster to him. 

There was an unbearable moment when she held the knife to him, but a profound relief filled him when it was the rope that was cut, not him.

She worked as fast as she could to cut the net cut away, knowing that she had a limited oxygen supply, and the merman could only stare in wonder as this fragile human jumped into literally the most hostile environment for them, just to help him. A respect and trust was formed in that split second.

The clock was ticking, she knew she had to get up to breathe soon, but she was so close. Close. Close. Close. There. 

The net down, now for the most painful part. She bit the knife again as she cradled the lower part of his body between her arm and her side, and grabbed the hook with the other hand. Oh dear, her vision was starting to get blurry, but she knew what to do. With a quick turn of both the merman and the hook, she was able to pull it out, making the merman scream and dash off in reflex. She watched as he was swimming away, for a moment completely taken aback. She knew she should be concerned this was a dream or she was hallucinating, stress maybe? Maybe grief? But all she could watch was the strong and languid muscles powering through the water like he was made to do.

The fire in her lungs and the quickly blurring vision were all too real and snatched her from her splendor. Kicking up to the surface with fervor, she was realizing that she might have fucked up. She wasn’t sure if she could get back to the surface before the blackness overtook her.

The merman stops once he realizes that the pain was necessary, and that it was only caused for his own benefit. He looks to the girl struggling in the water. She truly put her life on the line to just save him, and she didn’t even want anything from him. She wasn’t trying to capture him for herself. His eyes watched her struggling for a moment before knowing he had to repay the favor.

He darted to her, as quickly as he could with his injury, and had his arms around her just as her form started to still. He carried her up to the boat and set her on her side. He watched, his whole body rigid, hoping to his gods that she’d start breathing again.

Suddenly, she was coughing and spitting up the sea water and breathed with a sigh of relief. He knew he should swim away, but he wasn’t sure what his chance of survival was with this wound, and well, this girl seemed nice.

The fit went on for no more than a minute before she caught her breath. She looked to the young man bobbing in the water. There was utter wonder and fascination as she looked, and she couldn’t help but reach out and caress his face. He started at the contact, but hesitantly leaned into it, seeing no danger in the touch.

“Oh wow,” she was breathless and she said it with so much wonder that it made his chest hurt. He doesn’t think anyone, his own kind or any other humans he had run across, looked at him like this. “You’re real.”

He nodded. He understood this human tongue, but he had to admit he was out of practice speaking it.

“My father used to tell me stories when I was a little girl about the beautiful merpeople you could find in the water if you were good of heart and kind,” she was running her thumb across the small dusting of the smooth scales across his cheekbone, fascinated with how flawlessly the skin and scales combined to just make him look impossibly beautiful. “I never for a second thought you’d be real.”

“We are,” he spoke softly, the language feeling a little stiff on his tongue, he thought the fact that her father was selling as truth was a little ridiculous, they didn't know good hearted people any better than people knew, but she startled.

“Holy fuck, you can speak English.”

He had to laugh at that, it was easy to see why sailors drowned just to hear them a little closer, a little better. Her eyes glowed misty at the sound before the jostling of the laugh irritated his wound and now he was just wincing, biting back the pain.

The mist in her eyes hardened to worry, and she was moving to climb into the water again, but he stopped her, already being a little leery of letting her do anything like that for him again.

“How bad is it?” He didn’t want to answer. “Do you trust me enough to hop up here so I can get a look at it.”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding softly, she had done nothing to prove that she would do anything to hurt him thus far, and with his iridescent, clawed, and webbed hands, he hoisted himself up effortless and draped his tail over the side of the boat, allowing her to get a good look at the wound, though he refused to meet her eyes. This was rather undignified for a merperson to be doing this.

She gently examined the area, seeing that the puncture wound was torn and not a clean cut. It was also fairly deep and a look of concern settled on her face. “I don’t,” He dared a cautious and nervous look up at her, and she seemed just as nervous. “I don’t think you should be out in the open water with this. This could cause so many problems for you.” She looked to him, and gently reached for his hand, holding it tenderly and without care of how inhuman it was.

“Tell me, what’s your name?” She asked.

He thought about, he wasn’t sure if her human tongue could actually begin to even pronounce his name in his native tongue, so he thought for a brief moment. “It’s Jim,” he said. He had heard that name being spoken by humans before. He was sure it would be fine.

“Okay, Jim. I’m Y/N,” she spoke gently, having a feeling what you were about to say wouldn’t please him. “Do you trust me?”

His only answer was an unsure head nod, looking more defensive than anything. He did, she hadn't done anything to speak to the contrary and she was right, this would be a problem in open water. He didn't have much choice either way.

“I think I need to take you home,” he started to slide off the boat, but her grip on his hand tightened, “There will be no tricks, I promise. I just want to make sure that you can heal properly. I study wildlife medicine." That was mostly true. More like did study. "My whole life work is to help different creatures and get them well enough to be on their way. I swear to you.”

He looked at her again, and he could see the honesty in her eyes. She truly just wanted to help him. Perhaps the story that her father told her wasn’t so preposterous, maybe he could see her good heart. He nodded. “I can’t be out of water for too long. I do have a human form, but,” he flipped his tail. “I would probably cause more damage to myself if I tried to change.”

It was odd to hear him speak that much in one go, and while the way he spoke was foreign, she understood him, she even liked it. She nodded. “Okay. I do have an option for transporting you on the boat, but you’re not going to like it.” Hating that she had to bring this up to him.

He quirked his head to the side, but gave her a shy smile, “How would you know if I li-”

“It’s wear we put the fish in after we catch them to bring them to shore.”

His lips set in a thin line. She was right. He didn’t like that.

———————————————————

It was degrading, but she swore to tell no living soul that she would never mention that she had to put him in the boat’s fish tank. She was glad to see the bleeding had slowed down significantly, and it appeared that it was just oozing now.

Here was the trick though, she had to get him from the boat to the house. She hadn’t thought this far. He was starting to get anxious as soon as she docked the boat. This was the human’s world, and he was quite literally a fish out of water.

“What’s taking so long?” He asked from his position, not really being able to see what was going on.

“Just, uh, give me a moment! Wait right there!” She called as she jumped on the dock.

He had a remark for that, but she wouldn’t hear it, so he just mumbled “There’s really not much choice,” in his native tongue.

She went to the shed, looking for something to help her. Then her eyes fell on it. It would definitely get the job done, but she felt bad for putting this merman through the wringer with less and less than dignified positions. She grabbed the red wagon from her childhood and a tarp, and marched back to the boat.

“Okay, I know how to get you into the house.”

There was a long and pointed silence as he looked at those objects, "Fine.” He was clearly not happy, but he knew that you weren’t trying to do this to him. It was out of honest desire to help and make sure he didn’t die. It made his heart flutter at the thought though he was sure that most merpeople would be feeling utter disdain. 

It was a struggle to get him out of the tank, into the wagon, and then into the house, up the stairs, and into the bathtub, and then to fill the bath tub with seawater from the dock outside. By the time she was done. She was out of breath, sweaty and disheveled. Not even the cool Washington air could make a difference in that.

She was leaning against the wall, catching her breath.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, with his head propped up on the side of the bathtub.

With a wave, she nodded. “Yeah, I’m just fine. I’ll go grab the stuff in a moment.”

He watched with concern still, and he he couldn’t help but feel like he was being an inconvenience to her.

“Y/N,” he spoke softly, and she looked up to him, “Thank you. For this. For everything.” A beat, "What stuff?"

She smiled as she felt her stomach do a flip. “No need to thank me yet, we got to make sure you survive this. Stuff to fix that,” she pointed at his wound. 

He smiled back, appreciating the humor, as she left to grab the medical supplies, but he paled a little at thought of having to do anything to that gash.

She came back with a box and a leather belt. He raised a brow at the object as she handed him it. “You’ll want to bit down. I have everything to heal you, but nothing to make it comfortable.” She had something else with her, “Besides this,” it was a whiskey bottle.

He nodded in understanding, but his skin lost its pallor further at the thought.

“One question,” he looked up to her, “Do your scales grow back?”

“Yes, why?” He didn’t like that question.

“I’m going to have to pull some so I can get a good and clean stitch going.”

Of course, he thought, as he grabbed the bottle from her and took a healthy drink, only to cough and gag on the bitter liquid.

———————————

The thing she thought she had to be the most surprised with this merman was just how strong he was. He cracked the marble tub with his bare hands during the process, and his sharp teeth torn the leather to shreds, and she honestly didn’t want to admit what that did to her, scared was not the main emotion at play here. He was barely conscious at this point, but she still praised him for putting up with the scale pulling and stitching with only the whiskey to numb it.

He nodded and squeezed her hand with a small smile as sleep started to overtake him. She made a note to grab a pillow for him after she put all of the medical things away. God bless that she still had that from school.

She was in the kitchen, pouring her own glass of whiskey when she heard a cat yowling in pain outside. She opened the door to see a severely injured cat on the porch. The poor thing looked like it had been attacked by a dog, and her heart hurt for it. She picked it up and brought him inside. “It’s okay little guy. Apparently, it’s hospital night, and you came to the right place.”

She grabbed one of her jackets hanging up on the pegs next to the door and laid it out on the kitchen island and sat the cat down gently. “I’ll be right back,” she cooed as she went to grab the medical box she had just used on the merman upstairs, but when she reentered the kitchen, the cat was gone. “What th-” There was a sharp crack against your head, and the world went black for a short moment.

—————————–

She recovered, and based on the clock on the oven, it had only been a couple of minutes. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it, but then she heard something in the bathroom upstairs. Without putting much thought into it, she crept up the stairs, knowing the spots and stairs that creaked. She was able to hurry up them silently, but not before grabbing one of her mother's heavy silver candlesticks that adorned the hearth of her fireplace.

She peaked into the bathroom and her eyes widened at the sight of a man with gorgeous strawberry blonde hair falling in waves was leaned over Jim. He held his face and pulled in at an angle that his neck was bared to him. His mouth opened, and she saw the fangs and before she even thought about it. You leapt into the room and sent the candlestick bashing into the stranger’s head.

He fell to the ground in an unconscious pile, out cold and she fell to her knees. Jim shook himself out of a trance she didn’t even realize he was under. “What the fuck?” she asked, visibly shaken.

“He’s a vampire,” was the only answer Jim had for you as you studied the beautiful face of the stranger.

“I reiterate. What the fuck.”

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

Is there a fem!Jean Moreau? (Jeanne Moreau, perhaps?) Can she be friends with Erin? Does she perhaps have a chance to become a Fox?

Okay so this took a long time bc I kept getting distracted. I think I covered most of Jeanie in the long ass Riko post. 

So y'all are up to date on Jeanie' s flight from Evermore with Ania and Cleo. 

The boys return to Palmetto two days after Jeanie and Ania 

Kevin goes ballistic when he sees Cleo bc he thinks he's hers. 

Jeanie just shakes her head and Kevin just kinda frowns. When he pieces it together he shrieks 

He takes baby Cleo into his arms really carefully and curls up in a corner, cradling her in his arms, rocking softly as he bawls his eyes out. 

"Oh, Cleo-" he bursts out in tears over and over again. 

Everyone just kinda stares at him for a while. Ania is the first to go to him, followed by Jeanie. All the Ex-Ravens are curled up in the corner trying to hold Kevin together. 

They won't say anything until all the Foxes are back together. They doubt they'll be able to tell them everything more than once. It's too painful. 

So Ania takes Kevin and the cousins to pick up Erin. They bring Cleo with them. 

Erin walks out to the waiting room with her empty facade up until he sees Cleo. 

"What the fuck have you done, Josten?" She half whispered in awe of the child. Ania offers her the child and Erin takes it. Nicky and Aaron are screaming internally. 

Cleo is literally 6 months old at this point. 

Erin is a monster who's absolutely melted at the sight of this baby. 

She just keeps the baby real close to her chest and lets Ania drive them back. She's just staring at Cleo the whole time. 

They file into the foxhole court where the upperclassmen are already waiting. 

They all surge to their feet when they see Cleo. Erin looks ready to fight anyone who tries to take Cleo from her. 

"I've only had Cleo for an hour but if anything happens to her, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself." 

Jeanie, Ania, and Kevin stand in front of them. It takes some coaxing from Ania but Erin gives up Cleo. The Ex-Ravens tell them their story. They explain the truth about Kevin and Riko's relationship, the extent of The Master's abuse, and the truth about Cleo's father. 

The Foxes are all horrified but Wymack and Erin look fully prepared to drive out and kill Tetsuji themselves

Erin's barely able to hold her facade together. She's pissed that Riko faced what she did but she also ordered Proust to do the things he did. As a person who knows what it's like to face rape, Erin is struggling to understand how Riko could have done something like that. 

Back in Cali, Erin had nearly been forced to bear Drake' s child. She and her cellmate in juvie had managed some really shitty in-house abortion.

Later on the roof, when Ania tells her what happened to her specifically at Evermore. All of Erin's empathy is gone. Fuck Riko for touching her Ania. Erin is fully prepared to go to war with this thot. Ania stops her. If Erin wants to destroy Riko they have to take Exy from her first. 

Erin doesn't need any other form of motivation for the rest of the year. Anytime she sees Cleo and Ania, she remembers what she's fighting for. 

They're girls worth fighting for :')))

Anyway, because Jeanie isn't enrolled in school, she's now devoting full time to caring for Cleo. These days, Abby and Wymack and even the team are helping her. 

She goes to therapy sessions with Bee once a week. It's hard for her. She isn't ready to go see Bee and she has to leave Cleo to go see her. 

Erin is the one that convinced Jeanie to go. She offers to watch Cleo for Jeanie while she's gone. Jeanie begrudgingly agrees, knowing that Erin would never hurt the baby. 

It takes a few weeks before Jeanie actually opens up to Bee. It's a slow road to recovery but Jeanie' s begun it and that's what's important. 

Kevin wants Jeanie to stay with the Foxes but he also wants Jeanie to be able to come out and live her life as a woman the way she deserves to. South Carolina just isn't progressive enough for her to live there safely. She'll have a hard time making court when she comes out but Kevin just wants her to be happy. 

So that's why he pulls Jeremy aside. He needs a place where he knows Jeanie will be safe and the Trojans are definitely the best choice for her. 

Jeremy is a trans man so Kevin knows that Jeanie will have the support she needs.

Before Jeanie leaves tho, Allison takes her to the mall and gives her a makeover. They buy Jeanie dresses and skirts and make up. Allison teaches her makeup. All the girls are very supportive of her. 

Jeanie ends up being closest to Erin. Erin absolutely adores Cleo and Jeanie sees Cleo as her own child at this point. 

Look, Erin is just hella soft for Cleo okay. Fight me

Jeanie has caught Erin singing softly to Cleo. Sometimes Cleo will babble at her and Erin will sit and nod her head thoughtfully. She'll have full on conversations with her. 

Jeanie has heard Erin laugh one (1) time and it's when she blows bubbles on Cleo' s stomach to make her laugh. Cleo, in turn, tried to do it to Erin on her cheek. Erin has a really soft gravelly laugh and Jeanie is so shook. She doesn't tell anyone tho. It's far too private. 

Bc Erin was in foster care, she knows a thing or two about raising small children so she teaches Jeanie a thing or two on the matter. 

Cleo stays at the Foxhole Court with Wymack and Abby during the day and then goes home with Abby and Jeanie at night. As a result, Erin starts spending a lot of her free time at the court. Which is how she and Jeanie end up being so close. 

When it's time for Jeanie to leave for Cali, she decides that it's probably best that Cleo stay with Erin. It's a teary goodbye bc Jeanie has just made her first set if real friends and now she's leaving them and Cleo. Erin promises to Skype Jeanie once a week so she can see the baby. 

Jeanie arrives in Cali to meet the most beautiful man she's ever met. Looking at Jeremy Knox is like looking directly at the sun. Jeanie doesn't care tho. If she has to burn herself up to stand next to this man, so be it. 

Jeremy is a ball of energy and Jeanie is kind of the silent stoic type. This doesn't change a whole lot once she starts at USC. 

Being quiet is not a character flaw

Being quiet is NOT a character flaw

BEING QUIET IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW

But Jeanie does smile a lot more. She isn't as tense as she used to be. She gets to go out with the rest of her team and have fun. 

Jeremy loves to skateboard so he tries teaching Jeanie. She falls on her ass all the time. He always laughs at her but it isn't mean so she ends up laughing too. 

He always patches up the little nicks and scratches she gets when skateboarding. One day she gets one on her face. 

Pressing a kiss to the nick, he whispers, "To help it heal faster." 

"I think I've got one on my mouth too." The words are out of Jeanie' s mouth before she processes them. When she does, she goes beet red. Jeremy laughs and presses a soft kiss to her lips. Jeanie is on cloud 9. 

Since they live in SoCal they go to the beach on long weekends. 

The Knoxs have a beach house so they usually head out there. 

CHRISTMAS AT THE BEACH WITH JEREMY, ALVAREZ AND HER GF (I can't remember her name for the life of me) 

There's mistletoe on the door :)))) 

That's how Jeanie ends up kissing Jeremy in front of the girls. 

They come back from break as a couple. 

They dominate the board until they hit Palmetto at finals. 

The Trojans go all out this year but they're no match for the Foxes. 

They have an after party where the Trojans get invited. Jeanie is so happy to have her old and new friends all together

And CLEO 

CLEO IS RUNNING AROUND ANd PLAYING AND TALKING BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL BC SHES ONLY A YEAR AND A HALF OLD!!!!!!!!

Jeanie is carrying her when Cleo sees someone and screams, "Mama!!!!" 

Jeanie turns to see where Cleo is pointing. 

It's Erin

Cleo calls Erin mama 

Jeanie hands Cleo over to a blank faced Erin. Her apathy doesn't last tho. When Cleo presses a kiss to Erin's cheek she melts. Jeanie laughs. 

"Shut it, Moreau." 

"Yes, Mama." Jeanie barely dodges the hand Erin swats at her. 

Ania jogs in and Cleo calls her Mommy! 

Ania winds an arm around Erin's waist while pressing a kiss to Cleo's head. 

Jeanie smiles at them. She's glad Cleo has her two moms but she's a little bit sad too.

"We can have a baby too, if you want," Jeremy offers while they're standing alone on the balcony. "I mean, not now but… eventually." 

"You have to marry me first," Jeanie said with a smile. 

"No problem, love," he replied slipping a little box out of his pocket. 

Jeanie cries. It's a bit fast and they both know it but Jeanie knows she doesn't want to spend her life with anyone else. 

They get married on a beach in SoCal and Ania and Erin are there. They hate beaches but Jeanie thinks that it's time they made new memories anyway. 

Cleo is their flowergirl. She's terrible at her job but no one really minds. 

Laying in bed beside her new husband, Jeanie is happier than she's ever thought she'd be

[thetranquilteal]

An Leabhar Dìlseachd [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

Ch. 1 

Claire Fraser had always known she was a witch. Her affinity for healing hinted at it and her ability to time travel confirmed it. What she didn’t know was that she would come into her full power the day she became a mother. Concerned with how her pregnancy is progressing, she seeks the help of Apothecary Master Raymond in the hope that he will be able to teach her how to utilise her newfound power and protect her family from disaster. A canon-divergent AU told through the pages of the Fraser Grimoire ‘The Book of Faith’.

A/N: @just-a-kid-at-heart - once again this one is for you! Thank you so much to @moghraidhjamie for organising this year’s Secret Santa Fic Exchange and ultimately encouraging me to write more.

Chapter 2: To Guard Against Miscarriage

Red Raspberry Leaves  Vitex Agnus-Castus Berry Powder False Unicorn Root (alt: Wild Yam Root) Amethyst (alt: Moonstone, Malachite, Rose Quartz, Agate, or Ruby) Length of Rope (pref: Green) Baby Blanket Physical Item of Love

Sécurisé dans mon ventre, une graine d'amour. Là pour grandir et s'épanouir jusqu'à sa libération par la nature dans [nombre de] mois. Entouré de sécurité, de santé et de complétude vous resterez jusqu'à ce que ce nœud soit défait.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Claire whispered to herself. “It’s too early.”

The red stain on her undergarment had her heart racing. She was a trained medical professional and she knew that she needed to stay calm. But, by God, she couldn’t control it. And she was starting to panic.

“It’s too early.” This time she said it louder, stronger. She placed her palms on her swollen belly and took slow, deep deliberate breaths in an attempt to lower her heart rate. “It’s too early.” 

Spotting during pregnancy wasn’t unusual and a sensitive cervix could easily be to blame. Perhaps.

Despite resuming their sex life after Jamie’s ordeal at Wentworth and their subsequent time spent at Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, intercourse remained infrequent and was unlikely the cause. What then? She started running through other alternatives, everything she had ever read, everything she had ever learned or overheard someone else explain to a patient but soon stopped herself. The darker her thoughts the faster she noticed her heart beating in her chest.

She pulled off her undergarment and went to the chest of drawers in search of a replacement. Usually she had help dressing and undressing - something she came to appreciate more and more as her stomach continued to swell - but this she was determined to deal with on her own. There was no need worry anyone, not yet.

Finally redressed, this time with a clean rag nestled between her legs, she slipped on her shoes and made her way down to the dining room. As usual, there was a pot of tea and buttered toast waiting for her on the table.

She contemplated her options as she ate and only grew increasingly frustrated. For longer than she even had even known for certain that she was pregnant she had been having a number of increasingly clear dreams, all featuring the colour blue. Just two nights previously she had dreamed of the soft soul of an unborn infant, her own she had assumed, that was starting to crack. She had traced the line with long feather and sealed it in blue. But what was the point in dreaming of powers that she herself had never possessed? She had too many questions and little way of finding answers. What she really needed was some help.

“Suzette,” Claire called as she placed her empty cup down on its matching saucer.

“Oui, madame?”

“Please organise for the carriage to be ready. I must go to the Rue de Varennes as soon as possible. And if you can find Fergus, send him up to see me, please.”

“Oui, madame,” Suzette curtseyed and left the room quickly.

Despite the length of time she and Jamie had spent at Jared Fraser’s home on Rue Tremoulins here in Paris, Claire didn’t think she would ever get used to people being at her beck and call. Yet, today she was especially thankful for it. Rushing around and organising things was the last thing she ought to be doing yet they needed to be done. Without people like Suzette, Magnus and Fergus in her life… she couldn’t bear to entertain the thought and was grateful that Fergus chose that moment to come through the doorway and into the dining room.

Claire stood and walked to meet him halfway.

“Fergus,” she placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, finding strength in his stature. “Go to L'Hôpital des Anges and tell Mother Hildegarde that I will not be in attendance today.”

“Oui, Milady,” Fergus stood tall and nodded his head, looking much older than his 9 years of age. “I will go at once.”

Normally his youthful eagerness to complete any task asked of him would make her smile fondly but even he couldn’t bring any joy out of her when she had more pressing things on her mind. She followed him out the door and at such a slower pace he had completely disappeared from view by the time she was walking up to the carriage waiting for her.

The ride to Rue de Varennes was thankfully unimpeded by other traffic and before long she was making her way inside Maître Raymond’s store. Delphine looked up at her from behind the counter and abandoned her work to call to someone out the back.

“Ah, Madonna,” Master Raymond walked out to meet her and take her hand. “I was wondering when you might grace us with your presence here once again. Tell me, how may I assist you?”

“I don’t really know,” Claire admitted and looked around the store to make sure that she, Master Raymond and Delphine were the only ones there. “But I can say that it is of a… délicat matter.”

“I see,” Master Raymond nodded and let go of her hand with a pat. “Follow me.”

Entering the shop’s secret room for the second time was no less fascinating than the first. There were items on shelves and table tops that were either new or she had simply missed earlier, overwhelmed by the amount and variety of stock kept hidden from prying eyes.

Drawn to statue of the Titan goddess, Leto, Claire moved to the shelf and picked it up to admire it from all angles.

“Something is on your mind.”

Claire smiled, unsurprised by Master Raymond’s intuition, and put the statue back down in its original place. “Yes. I have an ailment and I believe my skills as a healer are not adequate for address the problem.”

“Tell me, have you noticed anything else?”

“Anything else?”

“Oiu. Perhaps you have noticed an aversion to a particular food or drink… or there has been a sudden change to your physical status?”

“Well, you might think it foolish of me… but I have been having dreams of late.”

“That does not surprise me, Madonna. Many women who are with child do. The details are of little concern but what themes have you noticed time and time again?”

“The colour blue,” Claire shared without hesitation. “Souls, I think. And me… healing them.”

Master Raymond considered her for a moment and then moved a step closer. “Here, let me see your hands.”

Claire held them out and allowed Master Raymond to study them. She watched with one eyebrow raised as he closed his eyes for moment and nodded.

“It is fausse couche that you fear?”

“Oui,” she confirmed.

“Mmm…” he let go and set about collecting a number of items off shelves and out of bowls.

Claire took a seat on a nearby stool to watch while she waited.

“Are you familiar with the casting of spells?” Master Raymond asked as he climbed a small step ladder to reach something.

“No. I’ve seen it done by others,” she admitted, thinking primarily of Geillis Duncan, “but I have never intentionally cast a spell.”

“It’s simple, really. There are five things you must do. Cast a circle, state your purpose, perform the chosen action, give thanks and, when all of that is done, reopen the circle,” Master Raymond noticed the look of trepidation on her face as he moved back down to solid ground and smiled softly at her. “All you must remember is that intent is the most significant ingredient and love the most powerful of all. One day, with enough practice, you will be able to do this on your own just by simply feeling it. There will be no need for stones, potions or anything of the like. But for now… you will need a little help, Madonna.”

Master Raymond handed her the basket and Claire glanced inside. Small jars of herbs and powders were accompanied by a collection of stones and a length of green rope.

“Rope?”

“Oui, Madonna. You must knot the rope to stall delivery. After the spell has been performed you must keep this knot wrapped up in a baby blanket and keep it in a safe place. When the time comes for your bébé to be born you must untie said knot. Do not forget,” he added pointedly with a slight smile to the corner of his mouth before leading her out to the front counter.

Generous as ever, Master Raymond only let her pay for the stones claiming that the rest were a gift for her and Jamie’s unborn child.

“Thank you,” she said even though the words didn’t really seem to be enough.

Once home, she made sure she was alone on the top floor before gathering some items from around the main room and then locking herself in the bedroom. In what seemed like no time at all she was kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a ring of candles and a feeling she couldn’t quite describe thrumming through her veins.

Studying everything in front of her she had the feeling that something was missing. She double checked the list Master Raymond had provided along with all the items from the store. Red raspberry leaves, vitex agnus-castus berry powder and false unicorn root now combined in a small metal pan. Five stones of assorted shapes and colours surrounding the pan and, of course, the length of green rope. It was all there plus the embroidered baby blanket that she herself had added to the collection when she had returned home. Despite reassuring herself she had everything she needed, the feeling that something was missing remained.

“The most powerful ingredient is love,” she murmured to herself.

Claire stood and walked over to the dresser where the box of silver apostle spoons resided on top of it. She lifted the lid gently and considered its contents. Twelve individual spoons… supposedly for the twelve children they were sure to have - or so Jamie had told her the night he had given her the gift. She smiled at the memory and picked up the silver spoon that sported Saint Andrew on the handle. The Patron Saint of Scotland. She closed the box and returned to her spot on the floor, the apostle spoon still in hand. She placed it down on top of the baby blanket and picked up the already lit candle. In a clockwise motion she turned, using it to light each of the candles that surrounded her.

With her first task now complete she replaced the lit candle at the top of the circle. She picked up the green rope and tied it tightly around the handle of the spoon before reading the incantation out loud.

“Sécurisé dans mon ventre, une graine d'amour. Là pour grandir et s'épanouir jusqu'à sa libération par la nature dans quatre mois. Entouré de sécurité, de santé et de complétude vous resterez jusqu'à ce que ce nœud soit défait.”

Claire glanced down at the spoon still resting on the baby blanket. Nothing was different, nothing had changed. This time she picked up the spoon and cradled it close to her chest with both hands. She closed her eyes and repeated the incantation louder, all the while focusing on the unborn baby inside of her.

“Sécurisé dans mon ventre, une graine d'amour. Là pour grandir et s'épanouir jusqu'à sa libération par la nature dans quatre mois. Entouré de sécurité, de santé et de complétude vous resterez jusqu'à ce que ce nœud soit défait.”

Her hands tingled and she peeked down at them with slight trepidation. Much to her delight a soft blue was glowing in the palm of her hands. It was reflecting off the metal of the spoon and the green rope tied around it was now tinged a shade of teal. She smiled and closed her eyes before repeating the incantation once more.

“Sécurisé dans mon ventre, une graine d'amour. Là pour grandir et s'épanouir jusqu'à sa libération par la nature dans quatre mois. Entouré de sécurité, de santé et de complétude vous resterez jusqu'à ce que ce nœud soit défait.”

Now content, Claire placed the spoon back down and picked up the piece of parchment. She held it against the flame of the one of the candles long enough for it to catch alight and then dropped it into the metal pan. Smoke curled up as the botanical ingredients burned along with the words and she found herself unable to look away from the glow until it had fully dissipated.

Without waiting for the smoke to clear, Claire wrapped the spoon up tightly in the blanket and then used her thumb and forefinger of her right hand to extinguish all of the candles one by one. Holding the bundle carefully, she stood and walked over to the small cupboard by the bed. She crouched down as best she could and tucked it away in the back corner, confident that no one would find it there not even by mistake.

—–

Claire’s back ached and no matter which way she turned she couldn’t get comfortable.    

She was eight months pregnant and she was grateful for every single day their baby remained safe inside her, she was. She knew it was best for not only her but also Jamie and their unborn baby to stay in bed for a few more weeks but she felt like she was going to lose her mind.  

The stress of Jamie being arrested for duelling Black Jack Randall had caused her to lose so much blood that she had been confined to L'Hôpital for a number of days. Knowledge of her situation had evidently spread as Master Raymond, himself, had visited her during her stay   . Initially he had been pleased, assuring her that the spell was holding strong and she needn’t worry about the baby, but then had moved on to assess the rest of her and adamantly insisted that she take better care of herself.

She adjusted her pillow and turned on to her other side. She let out a frustrated sigh when she found that to be even worse than her previous position.  

Ever since being ordered by Mother Hildegarde almost three months ago to convalesce at home until the time came for her to give birth, she found it hard to sleep at night. More often than not she would lay awake thinking about Jamie locked up in the Bastille Saint-Antoine and in the early hours of the morning when she finally fell asleep she would dream of his death, herself forced to watch with her hands bound in black rope. While Jamie would suffer a different form of capital punishment each time she was always guaranteed to wake up sweaty and with her heart racing.  

To make matters worse, she often felt like she was dreaming during daylight hours.    

Despite Mother Hildegarde’s warning that the King would expect some sort of payment in exchange for Jamie’s freedom she hadn’t hesitated. She knew that pregnant women were protected by the crown, even to the point of pardoning any woman previously sentenced to death who proved she was with child while on death row, and had prayed to whatever God that might be listening that the King himself would not expect a heavily pregnant woman to service him. What she hadn’t expected was to find herself judging the fate of not only Master Raymond but the Comte St Germain, too.  

Since then, memories from that day would play through her mind on random occasions, often prompted by the smell of incense or the sound bells tolling in the street. She couldn’t help but wonder what had become of Master Raymond and she prayed for forgiveness for what she had inadvertently done to the Comte.  

Still, it meant Jamie being released and she would do it all again if it meant they could be together. All three of them.  

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door followed by a muffled “Madame?”  

Intrigued by the excited tone of the voice she recognised as Suzette’s, Claire climbed out of bed and pulled on her robe as she walked to open the door.  

“Yes?”  

“You must come, Madame.”  

“Wait, Suzette. Come? Where?”  

“Downstairs,” Suzette grabbed her hand and held it in both of her own. “Everyone is so pleased.”  

Still perplexed by what was happening, she tiredly followed Suzette all the while holding in the yawn that threatened to escape. She held on tightly to the railing as they made their way down. It was dark with only candles lit here in there to guide them but she could see and somehow feel the glow coming from below. As they reached the landing Suzette bobbed to curtsey someone in front of her and promptly walked away.  

Claire stopped and so too did her heart. There waiting for her was Jamie, looking up at her with shadowed eyes somewhat hidden by the long curls falling around his face. His clothes were the same as he had worn the last time she had seen him except now they were torn and faded in places. All of this accompanied by the long beard that had grown during his time at the Bastille he looked like a completely different person. And somehow exactly the same.  

“Claire.”    

His voice was raspy, as though he had been ill or perhaps even crying recently but it was the best sound she had ever heard. She pulled up the skirt of her robe and rushed forward only to be reminded of her large stomach as she flung her arms around him and pulled him into a crushing embrace.  

“Claire,” he said again and this time she was certain he was crying. He raised his arms and embraced her back far more gently than she had him. After a time he released his grip and she pulled back to watch him bend down to place his hands on her stomach. “The bairn?”  

“Safe,” she replied. With anyone else her answer might have seemed rather out of place, most likely expected her to use a word like ‘healthy’ or perhaps even ‘growing’ but she knew that Jamie would understand her meaning. “My nose, however… is not. You stink to high heavens and are in desperate need of a bath.”  

Jamie laughed and wiped his eyes. “Aye, Sassenach. That I am.”    

Suzette was correct that everyone in the house was pleased by Jamie’s return. They set about preparing a warm tub and fresh clothes for him in the bedroom while Jamie tried to insist that she return to bed while he bathed but soon realised that it was going to be a battle he was never going to win. She suspected he might not have wanted to, either - he didn’t even hesitate to lean forward when she moved to scrub his back gently with a cloth. She bent down and followed the cloth with soft kisses to the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose and she smiled to herself.  

“I can hear ye smiling from here, Sassenach.”  

“I was wondering if you could still do that.”  

“Do what?” Jamie turned his head to look back at her and she pulled back slightly so that he wouldn’t have to crane his neck so much.    

“Know everything about me, without sight nor sound.” This time she kissed him on the lips long and slow, as if attempting to make up for all the time they’d spent apart. Eventually she pulled back and ran the palm of her hand down the side of his still furry jaw line. “Let’s get rid of this shall we? I want to be able to kiss you and not be prickled all over.”  

“All over?” Jamie smirked at her. Both his words and his expression were half-hearted but she couldn’t have cared less, simply happy that his natural forever-youthful state was starting to reappear. She slapped him on the shoulder playfully with the cloth before dropping it into his lap.    

“Only if you’re lucky,” she teased and went to over to gather the razor and soap.

She could remember shaving Frank’s face for him, once upon a time in her previous life. She had always felt it was an intimate act, trusting someone else to do it and she had been so proud of the fact that he would ask such a thing of her. But shaving away the remnants of Jamie’s beard, of his time in confinement, she found it to be even more intimate than any other. Jamie’s physical body not only relaxed and surrendered itself to her hands but his soul was hers to hold as well.    

It was late by the time they climbed into bed and they laid in silence for a time simply enjoying each others presence.    

“How long?” She finally asked.    

“Two weeks.”  

Claire nodded and pulled his arm tighter around her middle. She had know all along that his return was only temporary. The King would never allow for a convicted Scottish criminal to not only be pardoned but remain living on crown land. She also knew that Jamie would have a plan. “What are we going to do? I don’t think I can go anywhere right now.”  

“Nay,” Jamie confirmed. “Fergus and I will set sail for Scotland at the end of the week. We will make our way to Lallybroch and send word when we have arrived and preparations have been made for you and the bairn.”  

“I’ve only just gotten you back,” she pouted and Jamie kissed her lips with a chuckle.    

“I dinna wish to part from ye either, Sassenach, but ken that I also willna leave ye alone. Murtagh has agreed to remain here with ye and then escort ye home to Lallybroch once you and the bairn are well enough to make the journey. But dinna fash,” Jamie slid his hand down over her hip and grabbed a hold of her buttock, “for I’m here now.”  

“Yes, you are,” she agreed and leaned up to kiss him properly.  

As tired as both of them were, their affections remained chaste and before long the two of them had fallen asleep in each other’s arms with their unborn baby nestled between them.  

—–

Every day for the past week she had considered untying the knot around the apostle spoon and each time she walked past the cupboard in which it resided the idea had only become more tempting.    

That morning when she couldn’t even keep her breakfast down she had finally given in and untied the rope.    

She was well aware that still being pregnant was a miracle, one that may never have come to fruition had she not performed the spell.  But now she was nine months pregnant and increasingly desperate to not only give birth but also be reunited with Jamie. She couldn’t deny she was being selfish but her back hurt, her abdomen felt stretched to the limit, contractions seemed to be increasing at a horrendously low rate and all she wanted was to receive some affection. Preferably from her husband - the man very much responsible for her current predicament - but at this point she thought she might accept it from anyone. Or perhaps no one.  

For hours she had been walking around the house in an attempt to not only encourage active labour but also keep her somewhat distracted, hoping to prevent her from dwelling on what was to come. A sudden pain had her bending over and gasping for air.  

“Milady?”    

Claire reached out and gripped onto Magnus, suddenly thankful that the house was always teeming with people. She looked down and saw drops of red blood on the floor boards. She pulled up her skirt and found more soaked into the leg of her stocking.  

“Milady? Should I call la sage-femme - the midwife?”    

“L'Hôpital, Mother Hildegarde,” she gasped out and fell to the floor relying on Magnus to help her. 

—– 

Claire started to wake. Her hands moved down to cradle her belly but instead of taught rounded skin she only found a soft, flabby surface. Her heart started racing as flashes of the past few days came to mind. Arriving at L'Hôpital des Anges. Laying on the table and staring at the ceiling while people bustled around her. Someone - a man - barking orders. Fever. Dreams. A blue herring. She pushed away the sheet that covered her and moved to sit up.    

“Where’s my baby?” Claire turned to find Mother Hildegarde standing over her with a hand on her arm. “Where is my baby?”    

“Madame, do not trouble yourself. You must save your strength,” Mother Hildegarde replied and offered her some water. She barely resisted knocking it away.    

“I don’t want any water. I want my baby. Bring me my baby. I want my baby!”  

“Shh. Madame, Claire. It’s all right. Here she is.”  

Panting, Claire followed Mother Hildegarde’s gaze to find one of the nuns walking towards them with a wrapped up cotton blanket.  

“Oh!” The bundle was placed in arms and she relaxed, quite simply stunned by what she saw. She was holding a little girl with a head full of beautiful copper hair and, while her eyes were closed, she could tell they were slanted a bit like Jamie’s. She pulled back the blanket to count all ten fingers and ten toes, just to double check. The fresh air caused the baby to fuss and so she replaced the blanket and bounced her arms gently in an attempt to calm her. “Shh…”  

“I baptised her. And gave her a name. Faith. You must understand, I worried that you… “ Mother Hildegarde started to explain and Claire nodded. She was far more taken by the infant in her arms than worrying about names. “Ta petite fille est parfaite, Claire. She is perfect.”  

Claire couldn’t take her eyes off of her, not even to thank the Mother or even as tears began to blur her sight. She ran the back of her finger down Faith’s warm cheek and smiled.  

“You are so beautiful, Faith” she whispered, her daughter’s name rolling off her tongue as if she had been saying it all of her life.    

“Aye,” Murtagh said gruffly as he came to join them. “And yer father canna wait to meet ye.” 

End Note: “Secured in my womb, a seed of love. There to grow and blossom until released by nature [number of months] hence. Surrounded by safety, health, and wholeness you shall remain until this knot is undone” (incantation courtesy of google - original source unknown).

[defendersofaurita]

Title: Morning Sunlight

Author/Artist: AnchoredTether

Rating: M [graphic depictions of violence, major character death, dark themes]

Pairings: Plance [Pikelavar], Kallura [Thunderyun]

Series: Defenders of Aurita

Chapter: 12/?

Summary:  With the evil wizard Dakin defeated, Block can finally save his village from being turned to stone. Meklavar seeks to retrieve the Jewel of Jitan, Jiro needs to avenge his master (and twin brother) and slaughter the Leviathan, Valayun continues her search for the runestone, and Pike seems to have an agenda of his own. Revelations are brought to light and a mysterious ranger may be the key to solving their problems.

CH 12 :: MORNING SUNLIGHT

][ music ][

When Meklavar next woke it appeared to be the middle of the night. The place was dark save for the faint glowing of ingredients in jars, various crystals scattered about, Pike's neon green stitches, and candlelight from around the corner. She pulled herself to her feet, her leg already feeling phenomenally better, and shuffled her way towards the light, her magically enchanted splint clicking with each step, to find Korhan fiddling with what looked like some kind of gauntlet. He spoke to her without looking up from his work.

"Ah, princess. Awake at this hour?"

"Could say the same of you," she offered groggily, surprised at how raspy her voice sounded. She took a seat at the table, her amber eyes exhausted but curiously watching the dexterous movements of his lithe fingers all the same. "What are you working on?"

"Hopefully something that'll help you."

"Me? You don't have to make anything for me, Korhan."

"Too late," he said with a giddy chuckle.

Meklavar sighed with a smile. The last time she saw the elder elf was many years ago but he hadn't changed a bit. She wondered if he remained a constant even further into her past, a time where he helped her father and ate Pike's mother's peach cobbler. He told her he was a very close friend of her father, yet why couldn't she remember him? If she thought of him as a father figure now, he had to have been like an uncle to her way back then. Yet the memory of him was thin and blurred.

"How well do you know Pike?" Her head tilted slightly, her tone curious.

Korhan's smirk was devilish as his deep indigo eyes lifted to meet hers. "Asking an old man to learn more about your crush?"

"Crush??" Meklavar was wide awake now, her expression incredulous. "Don't be ridiculous. He's my friend. I'm not a little girl anymore, Korhan."

"Certainly not. You're a woman now. So we ought to take these things even more seriously." He pulled away from his work, lacing his fingers together as he rested his chin upon his hands. He was enjoying this far too much. "What do you want to know about your feline friend?"

"I-I don't know! Just…" She folded her arms and leaned back into her chair with a frown. "Aside from you, he's the only connection I have to my past. I just thought it'd be nice to know a bit more about what it all used to be like."

He let out a soft, thoughtful hum. "Can't say I know Pike incredibly well, but I saw him quite a bit. He was more of the quiet type. I doubt you two ever interacted though unless you somehow figured out how to escape to the kitchens or servant quarters in between all your lessons. Pike was busy doing his job as you were busy doing yours."

Her eyes shifted to the floor. "I figured as much… that's actually… relieving. I was afraid that we might have been close friends and he had to see me not even recognize him."

"Unless you two were lovers who met in secret at night, no, I don't think you two would even know each other's names. Well… Pike would have known your name, obviously, but not by Katya."

Meklavar's eyes widened as if she were just struck with an arrow. "Pike….he does know my name. He spoke it as he was dying."

Korhan looked just as shocked but it was quickly replaced with suspicion. "Were you two secret lovers??"

"Nooo! I would have remembered that!"

"Princess, you couldn't even remember your name when I first found you."

She let out a growl of frustration. "We couldn't have been! He would have acted differently when he first saw me, I would have felt differently about him, I-" She brought her good knee to her chest, wrapping her arms around her leg. "There's gotta be a different reason for why he called me Katya."

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" He suggested as he returned to working on the gauntlet.

Meklavar knew that approach would probably be best, but a part of her was too nervous and she reckoned he wouldn't remember the words he spoke to her as he was dying anyway. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, watching Korhan tinker away with his tools for a moment before she responded. "Perhaps. When it feels right. Anyway, back to the original discussion - tell me what you know about him."

"He's the youngest of his family. He's got two brothers and two sisters, although I can't remember where they all fit age-wise. He was always by his mother's side whether it was helping with the dishes or preparing ingredients. From what Sapphira told me it sounds like Pike has some kind of emotional trauma and she always had him work with her so she could keep an eye on him, and that routine just kinda stuck even though he grew older and would have been fine on his own."

"Emotional trauma?" She straightened up slightly, wondering now if she had said or done anything that would have been harmful to the khaliit.

"Pike's family was rescued by the royal guard from a slave owner. King Samuel himself offered the Cimclans a home and jobs within his castle. While all the Cimclans were definitely affected by the years they lived as slaves, Pike was born into slavery. He didn't know any different."

"…He was born a slave?" She couldn't even fathom what that lifestyle could have been like, but she felt her heart sink into her stomach. Thinking about Pike as a child not even understanding what freedom meant made her chest tight.

"I found out why Sapphira always wanted to keep Pike by her side when Pike nearly killed himself by following the request of some guards at a royal dinner. Pike has an instinctual need to fulfill any kind of order. It's as if he has a spell on him to always do as he's told. I'm sure he's outgrown it a bit by now, but it was terribly ingrained in him as a child."

"I wonder if that's why he took up the career of being an assassin," she thought darkly. "Killing people might be easier for him if he just thinks of it as an order to carry out."

Korhan frowned. "I never would have pegged that boy to become an assassin."

"Pike told me that the first time he killed anyone was during the Invasion." She had been wondering the same for quite some time and she was now voicing her thoughts on the matter. "He must have fought for his life, and doing that can change you. I know it has for me. Things can't ever go back to the way they were after you've taken someone's life, even if that someone was trying to kill you. Even if it's justifiable self-defense, you have to carry that weight upon your shoulders for the rest of your life."

Korhan stopped working to look up at Meklavar's downcast stare. His eyes shined with sorrow and adoration, his mouth curving into a bittersweet smile. "You speak beyond your years, princess. Your father would have been proud of the woman you've become."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, her smile uncertain. "Thanks, Korhan... How did Pike nearly die from following orders?"

"It's… actually a kind of funny story," Korhan giggled. "A guard was feeling sick to his stomach and another guard was thinking the peach cobbler was poisoned. Obviously there are taste testers in the castle to ensure the royal family never gets poisoned since even if Sapphira's cooking was perfectly safe the food could have always been tampered from the kitchen to the table. One of the guards told Pike to test the peach cobbler. The boy's deathly allergic to peaches."

"Oh my word." Meklavar couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat. "Did he know he was allergic to peaches?"

"Well, khaliit don't really eat fruit. I think most khaliit would just get an upset stomach from fruit but in Pike's case he turned out to be allergic to peaches specifically, so I doubt he knew. It was a mess of a night though. The guards thought for sure the cobbler was poisoned when Pike collapsed onto the floor. They started yelling that there was an assassination attempt. It wasn't until the medic figured out that Pike was in anaphylactic shock did the chaos die down."

"That must have been one of the nights I was pulled away by a hoard of guards to a safe room." She laughed. "And all because poor Pike ate some peaches! I don't know whether to find it funny or sad."

"It can be both." Korhan smiled. "So eh… I guess the moral of this story is be careful what you tell Pike to do. Because he will most likely do it." As he returned to his work, he asked, "How's the leg holding up?"

"Much better." She took a glance at her leg underneath the table. "Doesn't even feel broken."

"Good." He nodded. "Keep the brace on though, you should wait at least one more day for it to fully heal."

Meklavar tilted her head, noticing the dark circles under the elf's eyes. "Have you gotten any sleep, Korhan?"

"Nope. I wanted to stay awake to keep watch in case that dragon came back. Or if you or Pike needed any kind of medical assistance."

"Well, I'm wide awake now, so you get some rest. I'll keep watch."

Korhan looked like he was about to protest, but slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Alright, alright. But it'll be nothing more than a quick nap!"

][ --- ][

][ music ][

Meklavar began to worry about Pike when she woke the next morning and he was still fast asleep. His breathing seemed normal, the stitches were still healing him since they continued to faintly glow green, and the beating of his heart drummed to a healthy rhythm (albeit way faster than her own - she learned from Korhan that khaliit had faster heart rates after she nearly had a heart attack when she checked his pulse). She was torn between waking him up to make sure he wasn't going into a coma and leaving him to his peaceful rest. After consultation and reaffirmation from Korhan, he persuaded her that he would be fine if left to slumber (and that khaliit could sleep for long amounts of time if left undisturbed).

Pike was still covered in blood, and although she was far too exhausted to have done anything about it before, she was determined to clean him up to the best of her ability. She gently wiped him down with a damp rag, careful not to touch anywhere too close to his healing wounds. She was about to wipe the crusted blood from his face when she hesitated, her hand tentatively hovering as she wondered if doing so would wake him up. He hadn't stirred in the slightest when she wiped down his arms and torso, so perhaps he was in too deep of a sleep to have felt her presence.

She took the risk and wiped off the black trail of dried blood from his lips down his neck, pausing a moment to assess any kind of reaction, and continued when Pike did nothing but sustain his normal breathing and purring. It was only a confirmation that his injuries were severe enough to negate his ninja (or rather cat-like) reflexes. The tension in Meklavar's shoulders eased as she worked on cleaning his peaceful face. Korhan had explained to her that purring was at a frequency that promoted healing and even helped broken bones. She wondered if her sense of tranquility came from the soothing pattern of his purrs or if it was simply a science that spoke to her broken leg. Either way, she welcomed the sound.

She froze when he released a soft groan, one of his ears swiveling cautiously back. His brows started to lower, his nose scrunching and lips twisting into an expression of discomfort. Meklavar waited for his disruption to pass, but it only worsened. His breathing became shaky and his whole body slowly started twitching in spasms which continually grew more violent as if he were experiencing some kind of nightmare.

"Pike…" she said his name nervously as if she were trying to calm a startled animal. One of his ears momentarily pointed towards the sound of her voice but was quickly overcome by the terror in his mind when his back arched and he whined in pain. Her hand reached out to hold the side of his face in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep but the contact must have triggered something deep inside. With lightning fast reflexes he twisted, his hand and teeth clamped around her arm and wrist, and she let out a shout at the sinking of his nails and fangs.

"Pike!" Whether it was her increased volume or the fear in her tone she wasn't sure, but his eyes snapped open and he slowly eased his mouth off of her wrist, blood trailing from the contact. His hand relaxed but continued to hold her arm gently as he looked down at the damage he had done.

"Oh no…" he said it so sadly that it caused her heart to break.

"I'm sorry, you were having a nightmare or something and I was just trying to calm you down…"

Pike's brows lowered achingly, his eyes never leaving the wound he inflicted upon her porcelain skin. "Why are you apologizing, your Highness?"

Meklavar was dumbstruck by the title for a moment, but she soon realized the way he said it sounded achingly familiar. It was a phantom memory breaking the surface of her mind after staying submerged for so long. She gasped as if in pain, her eyes amber pools of heartache and understanding.

Thank you… for giving me and my family a chance to live… this is me simply returning the favor, your Highness…

It was the last words he spoke to her.

"Meklavar?" Pike's lips were parted in worry. "Are you alright?" She was unresponsive, her eyes lost in a distance he couldn't understand. He took his other hand to hold hers and give her some kind of an anchor to keep her grounded. It hurt to move that hand since it was still bandaged and healing from the burn her armor gave him, but he held tightly onto her despite the pain. He patiently waited until she next spoke.

"You saved me…" her voice trembled. "You pulled me from the burning room where my father was… you threw me through the barricade. You…" She closed her eyes, swallowing down the thickness in her throat. "I thought you had died protecting me…"

"You remember…" his blue gaze softened, his mouth turned into a sad smile. "I wasn't sure if you survived either… that is, until I figured out who you were. But all these years I hoped… I hoped so strongly that you survived…"

"I'm so sorry, Pike…" She knew he would probably reprimand her for apologizing again, but she continued. "You're not supposed to forget the face of the person who was your last hope. You must have thought I was a jerk until I told you I had amnesia…"

He laughed and she was slightly started by the sound. It was cut short as he winced in pain, momentarily forgetting about the cuts across his torso. "I was just a servant at the castle. I wasn't expecting you to remember me even if you had your memory." He frowned, returning his eyes to the bite mark upon her wrist, his thumb idly stroking her hand.

"Pike… of course I would remember." Her brows lowered in concern and she appeared almost angry, her eyes hurt. "You're not just a servant. You're not just a slave. You are so much more than what you were. You were apparently someone important to me if you know me by Katya."

His eyes were wide, his ears perked forward. "How… how much do you remember?"

"I don't. Korhan told me how you were born into slavery, and you called me Katya as you were dying. So you tell me."

][ music ][

Pike felt like she had given him an ultimatum, his throat suddenly feeling tight. "We… I don't know." He looked ashamed, his ears flattening as his eyes fell back to her injury. "I wouldn't call us friends… because how could we be, when you were - are - a princess, and I'm… I'm no one of importance. I was apparently the first person you confided in about being dragonborn and from that point on you sometimes found me and we would talk and one day you insisted I called you Katya because I kept calling you 'your Highness' and you didn't like it. We were just…" The words felt heavy in his lungs and he couldn't tell if it was from his wounds or from his melancholy. "We were acquaintances... I wasn't expecting you to remember me."

Meklavar was silent a moment, then released a heavy sigh. She was determined to get it through Pike's thick skull one of these days that he was important, but from what Korhan had told her it sounded like it would take time for him to understand his self-worth. The thought burdened her heart and she squeezed his hand with her own, ignoring the pain it caused her wrist.

"Well… I remember now that you saved me. And I will remember it for as long as I live," she promised. She opened her mouth, about to say something more but only a startled noise escaped. Pike had started licking the wound upon her wrist. "W-what are you doing???"

Pike stopped mid-lick, his eyes darting up to her. He made what sounded like an exclamation but with his tongue still sticking out it just came out as a muffled whine. He pulled back, his face reddening and his markings burning bright red near his cheeks. "Uhh… sorry, I guess I should have warned you. Khaliit saliva has healing properties, so I was…. Uhh… just trying to amend my mistake."

She looked like he had just told her the world was flat. "It - wh- really?!"

He pursed his lips into a thin line. "Y-yeah… d-do you want me to keep… going…? Or would you rather…" His face tensed up, his eyes narrowing as he tried to think of how to word it. "…suffer…?"

She laughed. "When you word it like that…" She offered him an encouraging smile. "You can continue, I won't think it's weird. You know, it makes a lot more sense now why some potions have khaliit or khariit spit as an ingredient." She looked down at the stitches upon his skin that poked out from under the blanket, her eyes trailing to the row curving around the arm that held hers. Whatever was in his saliva was causing her wrist to no longer sting. Even for a dragonborn, it was unnatural to have the pain fade that quickly. She watched him work with an odd fascination. "How are you holding up? You had lost a lot of blood…"

He gave her a few more licks before releasing her arm and attempting to fully sit up with several winces. He lifted his tail out from under him, eliciting several cracks from the appendage that caused him to make a sound of pleasure while making a face that looked like he had just been stabbed. "Man, that is why I never sleep on my back." He leaned up against the headboard, his chest moving slowly as be breathed deeply.

Meklavar made a face. "Sorry… you kind of had to with your injuries though… I know I'm going to be sleeping on my right side for the next few days." She frowned. "Perhaps I should sleep on the floor."

"What?" He looked too exhausted to understand, his eyes already threatening to fall back into slumber.

"You sleep like a cat, Pike. If you move into your usual sleeping position, not only will it hurt my side wound, but also the wounds across your front. It'd be better if we didn't share a bed."

"I don't sleep like a cat!!" He pouted, his ears slightly rotated back. "And if anything, it'll be me sleeping on the floor, not you!"

"I'll be fine - your wounds are more serious than mine."

"It seems wrong to have you sleep on the floor."

"Is that because I'm royalty or because I'm a girl?"

Pike bit his lower lip, his tail flicking. "I… don't know how to answer that question." Suddenly his ears perked forward and his face lit up. "Ah! I just remembered - we survived!"

Meklavar raised an eyebrow. "…yeah??" Perhaps Pike had finally lost it.

"You told me to remind you to thank me if we lived through all that," he explained. "So I'm reminding you to thank me." He offered a sheepish grin, his tail curled up expectantly.

"You barely lived through it," she huffed, her eyes narrowing. "I could have handled it, Pike."

"You can survive fire, Mek, not claws."

"Neither can you, moron!"

He let out a weak laugh, his cool eyes a mix between sorrow and endearment. "Better to lose me than you."

Meklavar was overwhelmed with the need to thank him, but 'thank you' simply wasn't going to cut it. What was she supposed to say to someone who saved her life twice, and almost died for her both times? How was she supposed to convey that she appreciated his self-sacrificing nature as a friend she trusted instead of him brushing it off as the expected duty of a servant of royalty? Even if her title and destiny as dragonborn were stripped from her, she was certain Pike would still believe himself to be below her, and it caused an anger to blossom in her chest.

She wanted to argue with him but she was too tired and she still didn’t know how to properly thank him. In her jumbled mess of emotions tangling up inside like a mess of yarn, she did nothing but sit there and silently cry. It wasn't until Pike's hand was on her shoulder did she realize the tears that cascaded down her cheeks and she looked up to meet his concerned gaze.

"It's okay, Katya." She wasn't sure if he said that in regards to her thanking him or how he thought it was better if he died instead of her. "We're alive. We're both alive. We're going to be okay."

She stared at him a moment longer as she willed herself to believe in his words, and nodded softly. She patted his hand absent mindedly before standing up and heading numbly towards the kitchen. She figured now was a better time than any to make some food, both to keep her distracted and to provide Pike some sustenance since he was finally awake. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, crouched by the cauldron, and worked on igniting the fire crystals beneath it. Keeping her hands busy was always her preferred choice of distraction - the more meticulous the work the better. She knocked the bright orange and yellow crystals together until they started sizzling like hot coals. She slowly stood up, wincing slightly as her hand ghosted the wound on her side, and when she turned around she gasped sharply in fright.

][ music ][

Pike was standing, out of bed, and leaning up against the wall at the entrance of the kitchen. His ears were droopy and he was practically clinging to the wall with an exasperated face. He was in nothing but his underwear and the bandages he wore around his shins, and even though Meklavar had already seen him this exposed before the lighting was dim last time.

"What are you doing??" She felt like a mother scolding her child to get back in bed.

"You just…" Pike gave her a half-hearted hand gesture as he tried to think of the words. "You were crying and you left without any explanation. Naturally, I was worried."

She sighed and limped over to his side. While her leg barely hurt anymore thanks to Korhan's enhanced splint, her knee still had some adjusting to do. She wrapped an arm around Pike's midsection, careful not to harm his stitches, and helped him over to sit at the small dining table flooded with morning light. While the Castle of Lions looked like a tent from the outside, somehow the enchantments gave the interior fully structured windows that viewed the outside and let in light. The magic and wonder behind Korhan's inventions never ceased to fascinate her.

Once Pike was sitting in the chair, Meklavar held out both her hands. "Stay right there," she said as if instructing a child, and she hobbled off towards the bed where she grabbed a blanket and pillow for him, but when she returned to the kitchen he had already sprawled himself over the table top, soaking in the morning sunlight. His eyes were closed with a pleased smile on his face, the tip of his tail flicking contently.

"You're supposed to be resting, not contorting yourself so your stitches bust open," Meklavar tried to say disgruntledly but she couldn't help smiling at his bizarre yet adorable behavior. At least he was mostly lying on his back, but with the way his hips twisted to the side she was worried it was stretching his skin too much.

"Mmm the sunlight is healing me," he replied languidly, already falling victim to the warmth's inducing sleep.

"Well…" she walked over and at least placed the pillow under his head and draped the blanket over him, "Just be careful with your stitches, alright?"

The only kind of response she got was a trilling purr, so she spun on her heel and went back to work in the kitchen. As odd as it was, Pike distracted her from her distraction meant to get her mind off Pike. As she gathered vegetables from barrels and began dicing and slicing, the occasional happy noise from the khaliit sunbathing made her distraction nothing but futile.

Meklavar actually had no idea what a khaliit's diet looked like. She was subconsciously working on making something akin to a chicken noodle soup but she had no idea if Pike would even enjoy it. As she scoured Korhan's supply of food it appeared the only meat he had canned was rabbit and venison. Considering the fact she knew Pike enjoyed rat, she figured rabbit was the better choice of the two.

"Hey Pike… there's not anything you're allergic to, is there?" she asked as she cubed the meat and scraped them into the cauldron.

"Mmm, peaches," he answered lazily, and although she already knew the answer Meklavar couldn't help the short-lived snicker as she remembered the story Korhan told two nights ago.

"Anything that you simply don't like?"

"Don't like cucumbers. I can't digest onions or leeks… otherwise I like some vegetables, but most of em I'm indifferent."

"What about herbs?"

"Rosemary, garlic, and lemongrass are nice. Mmm, chamomile and dandelion root are good too."

Meklavar let out a soft giggle. "What about catnip?"

"Shuuut up," Pike said half-heartedly with a weak laugh.

"…do you actually like catnip? I'm genuinely curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he piped, "and your curiosity will be the death of me."

"You know, it doesn't help to get upset over cat jabs when you turn around and make them against yourself," she laughed, quickly stopping and clutching her side when it began to hurt.

He lifted a hand to make a dismissive gesture. "Had ta take on self-deprecating humor at some point." He let out a soft growling sound but it didn't sound agitated at all. "To answer your question, yeah, I do enjoy catnip."

"As much as cats? Do you get all sluggish like you are now or do you get hyperactive from it?"

"Eh… depends."

Meklavar felt a smile creep on her lips as she imagined how Pike would act under the influence of the infamous cat drug. She slid the last of the chopped herbs into the cauldron of soup and took the long spoon off her workstation to stir the broth. "This will be ready in a few minutes." She took a smaller spoon and scooped a sample of it and brought it over to Pike. "Here, tell me if it's to your liking."

The sudden scent shoved in his face caused his eyes to open to see the hovering spoon. He lifted his head to slurp up its contents, his ears swiveling back before his face turned into disgust. After he swallowed he made a horrific sound. "What'd you put in it?!?"

"What! It's bad??" She sounded more disappointed than angry, rushing back to the pot to scoop up her own sample into her mouth. She was still a moment before her shoulders fell in defeat. "It is horrible. How can I mess up on soup?? It's just broth and ingredients!!"

"Add parsley and a lot of sage if there is any, and a few more cups of broth or water. And let it cook a while longer."

Luckily Korhan had all kinds of herbs stocked in his kitchen, so she eventually found the jars labeled 'sage' and 'parsley' and chopped the herbs up into the soup. She was out of broth so she added a few more cups of water as Pike suggested. She let the cauldron stew a while longer, then brought over a second attempt of a sample for him to try.

"Thank the stars, it's edible now," he said with a relieved and somewhat dramatic sigh.

"Sorry I've… well, never really cooked, as you know. I'm surprised you knew what to add! You didn't even know what was in the soup to begin with."

"Meklavar, I can smell," he reminded her, closing his eyes once more as he returned to his sunbathing. "Bone broth, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, celery powder, about three rabbits? And garlic. Besides, I worked in a kitchen my whole life. I know a thing or two about cooking."

"Well fine, your nose saved breakfast." She bopped her finger on the brown diamond on his nose, eliciting a scrunch from his face. She opened cupboards until she found the one that held dishes and grabbed two bowls. "You're going to have to sit up from your catnap in order to eat, I'm afraid." She tried to scoop as much meat as she could into his bowl.

Pike let out a moan of protest but slowly sat up anyway, staying on top of the table with the blanket wrapped around him like a cape. He took the bowl of soup Meklavar offered to him with a pleasured hum, but her hands lingered on the porcelain while his long fingers wrapped around the backs of her palms. She was dumbstruck for a moment with how beautiful he was in the sun, its rays making his warm skin glow and igniting his eyes into a frosted blue, his pupils contracted into thin slits from the abundance of light. She had never noticed before that there were hints of red in his messy brown hair, which made sense with the coloring of his stripes.

"Mek? Mek." He looked down at their hands and back up to her.

She shook her head, nervously withdrawing from the bowl. "Ah, sorry. I was… spacing."

"So long as you don't space out and recall tragic memories," he said before lifting a spoonful of soup into his mouth. She hastily sat down in the chair next to him, indulging in her own bowl which sat near his crisscrossed feet. He looked down at her and watched her eat, the corner of his mouth frowning pensively. Her hair was messy and he could tell she had slept on her right side, but somehow her short honey hair still looked pretty. Her light green markings were barely visible on her pale skin, the bridge of her nose dusted with small freckles. Her eyes which were normally a light brown, almost amber hue were brightened to a liquid gold in the sunlight.

"Pike?" Her head turned over her shoulder to look at his tail which had now curled itself around her back. "You feeling cuddly or something?"

He let out a small squeak before promptly lashing his tail over to the other side of his body. "Ah, s-sorry. Blame the sunlight." He brought the whole bowl up to his face to drink the broth, effectively hiding his blushing face. Meklavar could still see the embarrassment in his swiveled ears, however. When he lowered the bowl, he asked, "How's your wrist?"

She almost forgot about the bite mark on her arm and had to look at it to answer his question. "It seems fine." She frowned. "Thanks to your magical spit."

The sound of boots entering in the hallway announced Korhan's return from gathering herbs to make more healing salve. When he entered the hallway his energy was practically palatable. "Ah Pike, good to see you awake! And… on the table." He let out a small giggle before turning to Meklavar. "Was he feeling well enough to cook?? Or is that your doing??"

"Surprisingly enough, it was her doing." Pike cut in. "I haven't seen you in years, Korhan! You haven't changed a bit. How've you been?"

"Oh you know, tinkering on this, inventing that. The usual." He shrugged. "Last I saw you, you were about a foot shorter." He chuckled, grabbing himself a bowl from the cupboard and helping himself to some of the soup. After he tried a spoon full he let out a thoughtful hum. "This isn't half bad, princess, compared to your cooking I've had in the past."

"Pike saved it," she sighed. "Otherwise it was much much worse." She let out a sad groan. "Sometimes I really miss castle food… or should I say your mother's cooking, Pike."

"I miss my mother's cooking too," Pike said, only realizing after the fact how sad his words sounded.

"I miss Sapphira's cooking too," Korhan added. "She made the best peach cobbler."

All three of them sighed nostalgically, Pike and Meklavar simultaneously replying: "We know."

][ --- ][

After breakfast, Korhan immediately got to work on making more of the magical salve while Meklavar cleaned up the kitchen after helping Pike back into bed (despite his protests of wanting to stay in the sun). She could have sworn his eyes were glossy before he rolled over onto his side, and the image was stuck in her head as she tried to scrub the kitchen counter. She figured it had to be the mention of his mother.

"Hey, Korhan?" she started quietly so Pike wouldn't hear. "Pike said his family was enslaved… do you know where they are?"

His mustache twitched as he pursed his lips in thought, stirring the ingredients in the cauldron. "I'm not sure, princess. I wasn't there on the night of the Invasion, but from what I've heard from Alfor it sounds like a lot of the castle staff were either killed or taken prisoner. Lotor or Honerva must have them doing something…"

"Honerva?" Meklavar turned her head over her shoulder with furrowed brows. "I've never heard that name before…"

"You haven't?" He let out a troubled hum. "I'm fairly confident she's the one behind everything."

"She is? Not Lotor? But he's dragonborn, he's the one controlling Zarkon." Her head felt dizzy as Korhan figuratively pulled the rug out beneath her feet.

"No… there's something sinister about Honerva." The way the elder elf said it sent chills up her spine, as if there was something worse to come to pass than the Invasion. "She delves in dark magic of both kinds. She's one of the rare few elves who can wield both mana and chakra. I'm fairly certain everything Lotor has done has been because of her."

"How… how do you know all of this?"

"Because I saw them. About a year ago, I was in my Castle of Lions and they passed right by. I was undetected because of the cloaking, thank goodness, but I heard an interesting conversation between the two of them. Immediately after that I placed the tracking device at Korvanjund because I was concerned Lotor would try to resurrect Ulaz."

"But it was me instead…"

"Which was a pleasant surprise, albeit a distressing one when I found you and Pike in the condition you were in." His eyes looked troubled as he paused for a moment, staring at the vibrant green alchemic potion brewing in the pot. "They spoke of quintessence… something I've only heard in the most ancient texts…"

Meklavar felt her heart thrash inside her chest. "Quintessence? What… what do you think they're trying to accomplish, Korhan?"

"I'm uncertain, but this I do know," he said darkly, "If they're successful… the world as we know it will never be the same."