#she’s currently hiding between the door and the wall waiting for me to emerge so that she can pounce

[luddlestons]

scrolling back through you blog and OH MY GOD???? WILLOW IS SO CUTE!!! MISS CAT WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOU COULD BE THIS CUTE???

This sounds like an excuse to share some recent Willow pics out of my camera roll of like 8,000 of them which is only getting more entries now that I started working from home!

Here she is investigating a popsackle, pretending she is innocent of the crime of knocking my headphones off my nightstand, creating new fashion statements, and doing her daily roly-polies

I have no idea who let her be this cute, probably some kind of trickster god, for she does frequent crimes

[gnocchibabie]

The Realm's Tragedy

Chapter 1 - The Porcelain Princess

aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!oc

next chapter --- masterlist --- ao3

Summary: Maevys Targaryen is born into a kingdom overshadowed by calamity. With her mother Aemma Arryn gone, King Viserys consumed by grief, and Princess Rhaenyra adrift in sorrow, young Maevys finds herself at the heart of a fractured family. As she emerges from the shadows of tragedy, she must navigate the delicate balance between the remnants of a broken lineage and the impending storm of a new era.

As the dragons dance, the princess must learn to accept an unforgiving truth: All Must Choose.

Warnings: gore and blood, graphic descriptions of violence/traumatic childbirth

Wordcount: 1.2k

112 AC – King’s Landing

The piercing screams of Queen Aemma Arryn echo through the halls of the Red Keep, filling King Viserys I Targaryen with a sickening dread as he hastily rushes to her chamber. The cries are not those of labor but are more akin of an animal in its final moments. The merriment of the tourney presumes outside the castle walls, unknowing of the chaos that swarms within. 

When Viserys finally pushes open the door, the sight of his wife – disheveled and dripping with anguish – has him rushing to her side. 

Aemma had always had great difficulty bearing children – it was a wonder Rhaenyra had even been brought into this world – but this, this was different. All color had been drained from the Queen, leaving only a layer of cool sweat covering her pale form. Hair sticking to her face, breathing labored, and grip weak on her husband’s hand, the King felt his wife drift further and further away from him.

She looked more spectral than alive.

Aemma.

Viserys looks around to the handmaidens attending to his wife, though they skillfully avoid his gaze.

“Mellos.” The king breathes out, leaving his wife to speak with the maester. 

A grim look paints the face of his most skilled healer, “My King…during a difficult birth, it sometimes becomes necessary for the father to make an impossible choice.”

Viserys blinks incredulously at the man before him as his wife continues with her agony, “Well speak it!” His heart pounds.

“To sacrifice one…or to lose them both.” Mellos replies, voice measured despite the chaos surrounding them. Viserys listens to the man describe the technique taught at The Citadel – the barbaric ritual of cutting the babe from its mother, in hopes it may be saved. The King hears his words, but finds it hard to truly listen to them.

Mello’s stern face wavers for a moment, “But the resulting blood loss-”

“Seven Hells, Mellos.” The King took a deep breath to keep his panic from setting in, from blurring his better judgment. 

The Gods punish me…They set an impossible decision before me. 

Viserys looks back at Aemma once more, seeing his wife has calmed, her pain momentarily subsiding. A handmaid dabs a damp rag to the queen’s pale forehead, and she almost looks serene. He thinks of his son, stirring within her, waiting to come out into this world. To be set forth into the realm he will one day rule. 

Expelling a shaky breath, Viserys turns his back to her, “You can save the child?”

“We must either act now, or leave it with the Gods.” Mellos replies.

It feels as though a piece of Viserys, some portion of his soul deep within, withers away at the choice before him.

All he can muster is a grim nod to his maester as he returns to his wife, one final time. 

Aemma, even despite her current torment, finds a faint smile at seeing her husband once more. Her mind is less clouded, her body less addled with pain as she properly greets her king.

“Viserys…” Her voice is faint and wispy, as though merely speaking was a herculean task. 

Tears cloud the vision of the king, though he hides them with a smile to his wife. His Aemma.

“They’re going to bring the babe out now.”

And so they did. 

Amidst the screams of his wife, a sharp steel scalpel pressed against her soft, swollen belly – blood soon pouring out from within the queen like a deep red sea, staining her linen underdress and the pristine sheets below her. Amidst her thrashing turned feeble attempts of escape. Amidst her moaning turned to fleeting breaths. 

The last thing Aemma Arryn experienced in this world was great pain, and great fear. 

A babe, quiet and still is pulled out from her at last.

“A boy, Your Grace.” Mellos replies, though any celebration from the revelation is soured. 

The infant is silent, and the room grows cold. The King holds the bloody, small thing in his arms and weeps for his wife and son.

“Maester Mellos!” a handmaiden voices, “There is another!”

The room blurs around Viserys as another babe is pulled from Aemma Arryn. With a few strong pats to the infant’s back, it’s bawling fills the room. A flicker of life is breathed into the somber scene.

“A girl, my King.” The maester announces. 

A daughter.

Viserys looks at the small, crying baby now being swaddled in soft linens. Muck and blood wiped from her as her crying continues. Tears blur his vision once more, barely able to see the small patch of white hair crested atop her head. 

For a moment, he is filled with the overwhelming desire to name his newest daughter, Aemma. After the mother she will never know in this life. Though, looking at the ghastly scene before him, he thinks better than to condemn the girl to such a fate. 

A name was a powerful thing, and Viserys was a man of many cryptic beliefs.

Aemma would not do.

“Maevys,” he breathes. A new name, a fresh start, a blank page. “Maevys…my daughter. My princess.”

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

To suddenly be an older sister was an odd thing, Rhaenyra Targaryen had thought.

To suddenly be a motherless child, an even odder one. 

The eldest princess looks down at the babe lying in her fine wooden cradle, swathed in soft cloths. Maevys had finally quieted, after hours of squawking and shrieking, as if her cries should make up for the one’s her brother never had the chance to utter. 

Her sister was small, too small for even an infant. Pale as well, as though all her strength had been drained from her from the mere attempt of being born. 

If you could call it such a thing. 

Rhaenyra was haunted by the news of what had become of her mother. Her mother, once so full of life and laughter and love – reduced to a broodmare of a woman. So much so, that it became her undoing. 

The image of her sister however, soothed the princess. Perhaps a piece of her mother still lay before her.

She had a little sister, a girl to love and cherish and tell stories of their mother to. A girl she and Alicent could parade around with and take under their wings. Is that what sisters did?

Rhaenyra leans closer to the cradle. Did I look like this once?

The infant has all the hallmark Targaryen features: silver-white hair and expressive purple eyes. Perhaps she even had the Arryn look about her, some remnants of their mother. Though, only time would tell.

Rhaenyra feared, though, that the girl would not live very long at all. The babe was a weak looking thing after all. She even heard hushed whispers amongst her mother’s handmaidens, that the maester did not expect the girl to live past a week. The nickname, “The Porcelain Princess” had already begun to circulate throughout the castle walls due to her sister’s delicate state. Though no one would dare utter the words in front of the girl’s father or older sister.

“Maevys,” Rhaenyra breathed and watched as the little girl stirred, as though she already recognized her name, “You must prove them wrong, Maevys. You must stay.” Her voice quivers at the end of her plea, a hand grasping the babe’s cradle so hard, Rhaenyra’s knuckles turn white. 

And so, Maevys did.

Author's Note: hello there! i hope you enjoyed this very depressing and grim first chapter (I promise they wont ALL be like this). this is the beginning of what will hopefully be a pretty lenghty fic, which will come to focus on the ~eventual~ relationship between maevys and aemond. this is my second aemond fic (i am not immune to his charm) and i will be updating this alongside another project that is currently ongoing. because of this, updates may be a little sporadic, but i am dedicated to both series :) i hope you all enjoy this story! i have many ideas for many characters that i cannot wait to put to page and share with you all. thank you so much for reading <3

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 15: Comfort and Conflict

Penny didn’t sleep much that night, guilt keeping her awake until the early hours of the morning. Her sleep is blank of scenarios but she accepts the darkness and the fear it induces in her. Honestly, she felt like she deserved it, to be lost to the void to reflect on her deception, cowardice, and selfishness. But even that was a selfish act, letting herself slip away into darkness to avoid the anguish that waited for her in the waking world.

In the morning she’s greeted by two notifications on her scroll, a text message and an incoming call. The talk was all but brief, they said their good mornings, and Penny inquired on the status of Whitley’s wounds and overall condition. Surprisingly or unsurprisingly considering the circumstances Whitley had cleaned himself up rather well, applied topical ointment, and rewrapped his injuries on his own. He had even taken a few mild pain sedatives before calling.

It was strange, no, eerie how quickly and easily Whitley managed to tend to himself like this. Most people wouldn’t be able to withstand the pain of treating their own fresh wounds, especially in such tender areas. But Whitley, after last night’s confession seemed completely unbothered. Was he just that used to this type of treatment that he had grown a greater pain tolerance or had he simply learned to disassociate from the pain to get through it?

Penny couldn’t tell which, and she didn’t want to know. All she wanted was to be with him and hold him tight, to give him some peace of mind in a way only she could. But she had to be patient, this was his pain, not hers and she had already withheld too much from him to be demanding anything right now. So she listens intently, only asking questions about his injuries and pain levels until finally, they get to the topic of her coming up.

Whitley: Remember how you asked me how I got back in the manor the other night?

Penny: Yes?

Whitley: Take a look at the picture I sent you and I’ll show you.

Penny nods and pulls up the texted image. When the file loads it reveals what looks like blueprints. But on closer inspection, it's a map! A map of hidden tunnels, passageways, and exits in the Schnee Manor. It was like something out of a mystery novel or period drama, there were even hidden rooms and a secret treasury!

Penny: …Wow.

Whitley: I know. Presenting the Schnee Manor’s best-kept secret, the tunnels. As an ex-miner and experienced hunter, my grandfather was a little paranoid when it came to home safety. He knew the importance of always having a way out of trouble and a place to hide in case of an emergency. After climbing to the upper class and seeing the ruthlessness of the business world first hand he kept those ideas in mind when building his dream home.

Penny: Amazing.

Whitley: Indeed, it’s been a real lifesaver. In more ways than one.

He quips, smirking at his own sly humor as always. Penny doesn’t comment but smiles, a little relieved that Whitley is doing well enough to joke with her again. Her smile perks him right up and Whitley clears his throat before diving into details.

Whitley: Now, time for a special pop-up lesson. Pay close attention because this is top-secret information for your ears only.

He states playfully, Penny sits up straight and takes on a more studious posture as Whitley begins his lecture. He teaches the ends and out of the tunnel system, where the hidden doors are, how the locks work, and so on.

Whitley: On either side of the main house there are several false statues and wall engravings, if you look close enough you’ll notice that certain parts are actually buttons and switches. When pushed in the correct order they unlock a secret door into the tunnels.

He explains, describing the different etchings and sculptures and the unlocking sequences of each along the map. He also entails the blind spots in security these secret doors as the current system was cheap and without those routes in mind per Jacques’s usual ignorance. It’s a long process but Penny takes everything in without complaint or confusion, her desire to get to him slowly drowning out the static of her underlying guilt and shame. The call ends with a simple but sweet farewell.

Whitley: See you soon, I love you.

Penny: I love you too, I’ll be there soon.

She waves goodbye before hanging up, clutching her scroll to her chest for a moment after the screen goes blank. Her chest still burned but there was no time for her own discomfort, Whitley needed her help now and she was in no state to be unhelpful. Penny gets up and dressed quickly, emptying her backpack and stocking it with medical supplies from her dad’s emergency kit. Her steps are quiet and swift, not wanting to wake her dad from his sleep as she traverses the house. She hadn’t had the chance to tell him anything, nor had the mind or the heart to do it now. Not while she hadn’t seen Whitley and confirmed his safety yet. Until that task was completed, Penny could not be at ease enough to function outside of this frantic caretaker mode she found herself in. As she silently savages there are a million different worries and questions running through her mind.

Penny: Did he eat yet? Should I take him something? Would he even want that? If so what do I bring? I don’t know how to cook well and can’t make anything without waking Dad. And even if I did what would I-Ugh! I don’t have time for this!

She snaps at herself, frustrated with her own thoughts. After a quick sweep of the cabinets, Penny grabs a bag of gingersnaps, some packs of hot chocolate powder, and a handful of sweets from her dad’s bag of hard candies. Not much but nothing that would be noticed immediately and could be replaced with a fuss.

As she heads to the front door, Penny brushes past her still-dirty boots. The grimm ash clinging to them had dried into a thick coat against the metal. The layer of black was so dense she could hardly see the metal underneath.

Penny: I’ll clean them when I get back.

She thought, unbothered and unfocused as she turned her gaze back to the door. She leaves in silence, locking the door with a barely audible click. Her trek to the Schnee manor is simple, first to the train station up on the first train then to the first taxi she can hail once in the upper city for a drive just a few city blocks short of her destination. Throughout her travels, Penny is scarily quiet with no trace of her usual cheeriness. Outwardly it’s a polite silence, a simple courtesy from a considerate passenger. Inside Penny’s silence was a result of pure drive, she wasn’t thinking at all just functioning. Her mind was almost at a complete pause, stalled to keep the little mental fortitude she had left from breaking down. The most that comes out of her is a soft “thank you” to the cab driver as she gets out.

On the road alone she makes it to the manor long before the afternoon, sticking close to the sides as she was instructed. Sneaking past the front gates around the driveway to the first side building, paying close attention to the walls as she looks for the engraving that would act as her entrance. Walking further down gazing at every inch of the structure with close inspection Penny finds what she’s after. It’s just as Whitley described, a sphinx grimm standing upright on its hind legs carved into the white masonry of the foundation. It’s almost completely flat in texture and so light in color that one wouldn’t be able to see it after dark or even through a thick shadow. Still, the art itself is beautiful and well crafted, the styling segmenting the creature it portrayed into disconnected parts with thick lines that flowed into curled ends that made the fearsome creature look almost whimsical.

Pulling out her scroll, Penny texts Whitley a notice of her arrival and where to find her before making her attempt at opening the trick door. She pockets her scroll and runs her fingers over the mosaic.

Penny: Whitley said the pattern for the Grimm doors was simple, the pattern in which you’d take it apart during an attack according to his grandfather’s hunting style. For the sphinx he’d start with the paws, to break its stance and impair its mobility.

She reaches her hand up to the raised front paws of the carving and presses hard, the stone gives under the pressure of her touch and slides back. Penny breathes a sigh of relief, then glides her hand down to the grounded paws and presses them with the same force. They give way just as easily as the front, sliding back seamlessly into the wall.

Penny: Okay, next the wings to cut off its last means of escape.

She reached up and pressed down on the wings which clicked back into place just like the paws.

Penny: And lastly the killing strike at the head.

With one final long reach, Penny gets up on her tiptoes and presses down on the head of the sphinx carving, it slides back, and soon she hears mechanisms shifting and clicking behind the wall. With a puff of air, the carving pushes back into the building revealing the door shape frame it decorated. With a hesitant push, Penny opens the door back further and steps inside the space behind it. Inside was a hallway, one of many pathways through the hidden tunnels. Sliding behind the door to push it closed Penny sees parts of the pressure lock that keep the door so tightly closed and hidden, and the lever on the other side to open it from within. It was very rudimentary and frankly plain old school but effective. Covering her tracks, Penny pushes the heavy stone door closed only to hear soft footsteps and clapping slowly approaching her direction. She immediately turns towards the sound to find Whitley walking towards her, applauding her efforts and coming her way.

Whitley: Bravo, you got in on the first try without a single mistake. Well done, my brilliant stude-

Penny doesn’t let him finish his musings before rushing him, pulling Whitley into her arm in a tight embrace. She buries her face in his shoulder, taking in his scent, his warmth, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, everything her senses can detect to confirm he was right there in front of her. Her act immediately shocks Whitley out of his attempted tease but also melts his heart, her strong affection was exactly what he needed right now. With love-filled eyes, he returns her hug with equal warmth and kisses her softly on her forehead, right on her bangs. For as much pain as he was still in, Whitley felt blissful in Penny’s arms as they reassured him that he was no longer alone in his suffering and that someone was willing to comfort him through it no matter how difficult it was to do so.

Meanwhile, Penny is stewing in a mix of guilt, relief, and sorrow. She was so happy to see Whitley in good spirits but the knot in her stomach only grew tighter at the contact. The feeling of his lips on her locks was so bittersweet, at any other time she would have blushed with glee from the act but right now it made her skin crawl with shame. How cruel of her to let him lavish her with such tenderness when she was no better than anyone else in his life. She had lied to him from the very beginning about her true nature. She’d masqueraded as human and tricked him into loving her and relying on her at his lowest. She made him believe that finally there was a person whom he could trust wholly and utterly, a crime too similar to the con his mother had fallen for. She was a betrayer to the highest degree yet she still held onto him like this, refusing to reveal the truth but unable to let him go. If she could see herself right now Penny would heave with disgust but instead, she only holds him tighter as if he’d vanish into thin air if she couldn’t feel him.

The added pressure irritates Whitley’s back wounds and his body quivers. Penny notices and jerks back, loosening her grip and looking up at him with concern.

Whitley: Ow.

He squeaks almost playfully, trying hard to make the push in his injuries sound less painful than it really was. But the already guilt-wracked Penny isn’t so easily fooled.

Penny: I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!

She exclaims, her face full of remorse and worry. Seeing her distress Whitley pats her head and pulls her back to him.

Whitley: Shh, I know, I know, you’d never do anything to hurt me. Just try to be gentle, I’m still very tender.

He cues sweetly before planting another soft kiss on her forehead. Penny swallows back the ball of shame in the back of her throat and nods along, unable to speak for fear of what would come out of her in this fragile state. Noting her confirmation Whitley relaxes his hold on her

Whitley: Good. Now come with me, I’d like to talk somewhere more comfortable.

He states, motioning further down the tunnels. Penny nods again in agreement and the two walk down the pathway hand in hand. Dim lamps on the walls light their path as Whitley leads the way to a panic room. The door to the room is just as expected for a panic room, sturdy with a keypad acting as the only means to enter from the outside. Whitley steps forward to enter the code and holds the door for Penny to walk in first. Inside is a very well-stuck setup, a bed set against one wall with bedding boxed underneath, proper plumbing, an emergency communications system, a wall full of weapons for safety against attackers, clean bottled water, and a stock of non-perishable food along with some books and board for entertainment. Honestly, it was like a luxury fallout shelter with a mini armory but for its given purpose it could be considered cozy.

Whitley: After you.

He chirps, gesturing for Penny to head inside. She does and Whitley follows, letting the door close behind with a slam that echoes through the tunnels but never breaks past their thick walls. Inside the panic room Penny peeks and pokes around the area, almost inspecting the room to double-check its accommodations.

Penny: This is…a very well-made emergency room.

Whitley: Grandfather was a thorough man when it came to his family’s safety.

Penny: Understandably, though it is kind of dusty in here.

Whitley: Product of time, this place hasn’t been touched in years. Not since the beheading incident.

Penny’s eyes widen at the word behead and she immediately inquires about the details.

Penny: Excuse me, did you just say beheading incident? When and where was there a beheading incident?!

She asks, earnestly concerned by the possibility of Whitley being privy to such a heinous crime. Understanding her worry Whitley answers frankly.

Whitley: It happened almost a decade ago when the White Fang were at their most…hostile for lack of a better term. Father had recently taken over as head of the SDC and put into place some new labor policies that did not go over well with the populous, especially with the White Fang. There were several incidents of them kidnapping board members and their families and ransoming them to get the policies that targeted faunus overturned but Father doesn’t negotiate with terrorists so their attacks kept getting bolder and bolder until they started taking things too far.

He sighed, nodding his head in disapproval as he regaled the unfortunate memory.

Whitley: The poor man was an old friend of Grandfather’s, worked in the mines with them since they were just kids, and was one of Mother’s godfathers. They waited until Father was abroad and sent a recording of them…tearing his head off his shoulders to my mother during the night.

Penny: Oh my god.

Whitley: Alongside a box containing his still bleeding head.

Penny: Oh my god!

Whitley: Yes, it was… truly terrifying. Of course, I didn't know any of this until years later but that night I was woken up by my mother pulling me out of bed, Winter standing behind her carrying a still-sleeping Weiss over her shoulders. Mother told me to be very quiet and not move, that she was taking us to a secret place but that no one could see us go there so we had to sneak away. She made it seem like it was a fun little game she’d made up, to keep me from getting scared I’m sure. It worked, I put little hands over my mouth and stayed as still as a statue while she carried me. She rushed us through one of the hidden doors and into this panic room, sat Weiss and me down on the bed, and grabbed a sword. Mother and Winter stood guard at the door until we got the all-clear in the morning. It was the first time I’d ever seen her look so serious or move so quick! It was like I was seeing a different person…the person she was before Father. Before his lies…before he ruined her.

He says wistfully, eyes clouded with nostalgia and grief at just how far everything had fallen since that terrible incident.

Whitley: Security around us increased for a long time after and the killings didn’t stop for even longer, but eventually the White Fang did give up on the SDC. Though it cost many lives in the end Father’s stubbornness prevailed!…and the pile of bodies just kept growing bigger every year.

He jokes bitterly, the curt reminder of how cruel his father could be in the fact of direct threats to his family souring his mood. But the building bile is halted by the feel of warm arms wrapping around him and pulling him into a nurturing hug. Penny pulls his head onto her shoulders, holding it with care as she fights back the urge to cry.

Penny: I’m so sorry that happened to you.

She says sympathetically, hand moving up to caress Whitley’s hair to ease a bit of tension telling that story had fostered in him. Her tender actions elicit a soft smile from the white-haired boy who in turn wraps his arms around her middle to bring her closer.

Whitley: It’s okay, despite the tragedy that night isn’t a bad memory for me. Rather it’s one of the few times I remember feeling truly safe in this house and protected by my family.

That admission only makes Penny hold on tighter. She hated how casual he was about these terrible things, that he could be so comfortable talking about such horrible events was just too much for her to bear! Worse than that was the fact he was talking like this less than a full day after being brutally beaten! It’s just too awful for her to sit by and quietly accept!

Penny: Speaking of tragedy, how are your injuries?

Whitley stiffens up at the mention of his wounds, he’d been so happy to have Penny with him and so lost in his tale that his current state had slipped his mind.

Whitley: They’re fine, wrapped, and treated just like I promised.

Penny: Let me check, I need to see it for myself.

She replies, the sternness of her voice making it clear this isn’t a question but a demand. Knowing her decree comes from a good place Whitley obeys without resistance.

Whitley: If you insist.

They clean off the bed and throw in the coverings to give themselves a clean workspace. They sit down side by side, Penny digs through her backpack for her medical supplies before ordering Whitley to strip.

Whitley: Excuse me?

Penny: I need you to take off any clothing that obstructs my access to your injuries.

Whitley: I understand your reasoning but don’t you think this is a little…inappropriate? Me being half-dressed in front of you?

He questions giving Penny pause, she thinks for a moment then puts the medical supplies and reaches for the button of her blouse.

Penny: If it’s a matter of embarrassment then I’ll remove some of my clothes too, that way we’ll be equally vulnerable.

She offers, her hands already at the ready to undo the top button. Whitley goes from pale to completely red in less than two seconds. He rushes to grab her hands, clutching them close in his so she can't easily pull them back.

Whitley: W-What in the hell are you doing?!

Penny: Unbuttoning my top?

Whitley: I can see that! Now stop!

Penny: Why? I’m just trying to make you more comfortable.

Whitley: Comfortable-

Whitley sighs and removes one of his hands from hers to clasp his almost cherry-red face.

Whitley: I don’t know if I should envy your naïveté or pity your lack of self-awareness.

He mutters, once again flustered by Penny’s earnest efforts. Still in caretaker mode, Penny doesn't fully grasp what he’s saying and cocks her head in confusion. Whitley lets out a deep sigh upon seeing that familiar look of innocent ignorance. Realizing she doesn't get it Whitley goes for the direct approach, he reaches out and starts undoing her blouse buttons himself. Leaning forward to get into her personal space, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck as Whitley hooks his pointer fingers under Penny’s blouse to keep it open while he trails down. His nimble fingers dancing across the skin of her clavicle with every motion.

Penny: W-w-what are you doing?!

Penny stammered, face bright hot red as his hands continued their machinations on her blouse.

Whitley: Well you offered to take it off for my sake so it’s only fair that I do it for you instead.

He says sweetly, flush face made mischievous with a smirk gracing his lips.

Penny: That’s not-I can do-You don’t have to-

Absolutely flabbergasted, Penny immediately grasps Whitley’s hands and pushes them away, the force of fluttered movements causing her to lose her balance. She falls back into the bed, pulling Whitley along with her by his still-clasped hands. Before either knows it he’s lying on top of her, the buttons on her blouse are fully open leaving part of her chest visible. In this moment Penny’s head is spinning, this situation was far beyond even her wildest dreams and fantasies. Her pulse is racing as she’s overwhelmed with nervousness, embarrassment, and an odd sense of excitement. Whitley however is far calmer, still smirking he leans down to get even closer. Pushing their locked hands together until it’s the only barrier keeping their bodies from touching. He looks her directly in the eye, so close their noses almost brush against each other as he speaks.

Whitley: And this is why we don’t offer things we aren’t ready to give.

He chirps, playfully chastising her naïve actions before pulling away and giving Penny a moment to collect herself.

Eventually, they do get to the task at hand. Whitley strips off his shirt to reveal a heavy amount of bandages across his torso and arms. Seeing up close Penny takes note of how thoroughly he’s wrapped his wounds. It was wrapped so thickly, most likely when the bleeding was at its heaviest, but so cleanly it’s clear this was a practiced procedure. Taking off her gloves and sanitizing her hands before removing the old wrappings, Penny can’t help but feel her hands tremble a bit as they make contact with the gauze. Starting with the biggest area, his back, Penny slowly and gently pulls off the bandages from his torso. Every layer deeper she gets the more bloody the wrapping becomes until she finally covers the skin of his back.

The pop of the deep red from healing lash marks on Whitley’s pale white was an almost ornate kind of horrifying. It was as though someone performed the art of kintsugi on shattered porcelain with blood and scar tissue instead of liquified gold. There was no denying what had happened here, the depth of lashes, the direction, and the overlap where spots were struck repetitively, it was as if the assailant was trying to draw as much blood as possible!

Penny: No, not if.

Jacques most definitely had tried to cause Whitley as much physical damage and pain as possible! And judging from the amount of wounds that appeared to be reopened from past beatings, he was well-practiced in this form of torment.

Penny can hardly breathe and for a second she just stares on in pure horror as she faces the evidence of this tragedy full on. Whitley, feeling her fixed gaze on him, tries to lighten the mood again.

Whitley: Apologies for the grotesque sight. Don’t worry, it looks worse than it feels.

He quips, chuckling at his humor as if the tapestry of damaged skin across his back was no big deal. But his laughter dies the moment Penny finds her voice again and replies with a single phrase.

Penny: I’m sorry.

She mutters, voice choked with tears and anguish as the feelings of grief and helplessness resurface.

How could she not have noticed this? How did she not see this sooner? How could she have been so close but so blind!

Whitley had been suffering so much.

If there was anyone in this kingdom who needed her it was him. And even though she was right there, even though he had trusted her, spent time with her, and had been so good to her Penny had been unable to do the only thing she was designed to do for everyone under her care.

Protect.

She’d failed him, just like everyone else in his life had failed him. And knowing that made Penny want to rip her own heart out of her chest. The pain was just too much, but giving into it now would be pointless. Whitley still needed her and she’d already been too selfish with him already, she couldn’t abandon him to spare herself from this despair.

So with a heavy heart she cleans his wounds out, doing so as gently as possible. But there’s no stopping the sting of rubbing alcohol against healing flesh. That was just how the process worked. But still, every time Whitley twitched in pain, Penny felt a piece of herself hurt for him.

Penny: Sorry.

She chirps again, repeating it every time he shows even the slightest hint of discomfort. Each time Whitley tries to soothe her worries, glancing over his shoulder to peek at her with a sympathetic gaze.

Whitley: It’s fine.

He says.

Whitley: It’s okay, that means you're doing it right.

He says.

Whitley: I’m fine, just keep going.

He meets her worry with comfort, matching her usual positivity with his own version. Once his back wounds are fully cleaned and rewrapped they move on to his forearms. By the end, all of Whitley’s wounds are clean and both teens are mentally exhausted from the experience. Penny was wracked with guilt and concern while Whitley was overcome with a strong sense of vulnerability.

It had been a long time since someone had tended to him so carefully and the first time he’d been this undressed in front of someone he viewed intimately. He hated to see her cry but couldn’t help the feeling of joy knowing she cared so much brought him.

No one else would or had fought so hard to care for him this way.

No one but Penny Polendina.

And Whitley truly adored her for it, he appreciated every second she devoted to being with him and loving him the way she did. He had almost forgotten how being loved so effortlessly and unconditionally felt so he did his best to return it with equal care.

As he’s redressing and she’s putting away her medical supplies, Whitley pauses for a moment and reaches over to wipe away Penny’s tears. He pushes away at the tear strand with his thumb while caressing her cheek. Penny continues packing the medical tools away but the second they’re all secured she turns to face him and cups his hand. She gently rubs the back of his hand with her thumb which Whitley responds to by caressing her other cheek with his free hand. He looks deep into her teary-eyes and plants a kiss in the space between them.

Whitley: Thank you, love.

He bellows.

Whitley: For everything.

He whispers, cradling her face in his hands like it’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she was, a being worth more than anything. The answer to countless prayers, someone who loved him wholeheartedly and unconditionally. Even the sting of his healing lash wounds couldn’t dull the peace he had with her. Penny was everything he could have asked for and more than he could ever dream of. The first true grace he’d been blessed with in so long that he’s almost surprised how he survived so long without her.

Penny can feel the love radiating from him and is so torn. She wants to embrace it, take in every word, every action, every single bit of affection Whitley had to give but the guilt makes her heart quake with the weight of her deceit.

This joy, this comfort she gave him was built on falsehoods but she couldn’t dare bring herself to take away. Not when he needed her and not when she loved him this much.

This tense but tender moment is only halted by the sound of a soft stomach grumble. The second Penny hears it she knows what’s happened. Her expression shifts from solemn to annoyance as she looks at Whitley who’s cheeks are already burning with embarrassment.

Whitley: Ex-excuse me.

He apologizes, to which Penny responds with a snappy retort.

Penny: You didn’t eat enough again, did you?

She accuses, or more proclaims as Whitley avoids eye contact after being called out on his poor self-care.

Penny: You can’t not eat when you’re actively taking pain medicine! Your body won’t absorb it correctly and you’ll be at risk of illness or even overdose!

She lectures, pouted face with puffed cheeks at Whitley’s absolute lack of self-preservation when it came to his body! Knowing he’s in for an earful Whitley decides not to fight her on this and accepts his fate.

Whitley: I know, I know, I should take better care of myself.

Penny: Yes, you should!

Whitley: But you can understand why I wasn’t feeling particularly peckish.

Penny: I-Well…

This gives Penny pause as she recalls the state Whitley was in the night before. The situation had driven her into a mad rage but it must have absolutely drained him of all energy. Food was probably the last thing on his mind during all this.

Penny: I can understand why this level of stress of this would impede your appetite.

She sighs, her mood deflating back down along with her gaze. Eyes turned to the floor Penny catches sight of her backpack and remembers what medical supplies wasn’t all she brought.

Penny: But still! You should at least have something.

She states, pulling away from Whitley and reaching back down for her bag. She retrieves the little snacks she’d brought from home.

Penny: I didn’t have the time or the forethought to go the store beforehand but I did bring these just in case!

She presents Whitley with her assortment of treats. It’s not much and seemed to be the type of treats one would find in an old person’s handbag. Still, the gesture is sweet and brings a smile to Whitley’s face. As he looks through her little haul of goodies Whitley notices the packs of hot cocoa mix and gets an idea.

He gets up from the bed and walks over to check the panic room’s provisions. The room was fit with state-of-the-art equipment and non-perishable food that could last for quite a long time, and knowing his grandfather some of these would be some old staples from his time as a miner in tundra. Like dust-powered compact cooking gear. True to Nicolas’s reliability there are several pieces of camping cooking equipment, including what Whitley was searching for, a dust-powered camping stove with a pot attachment.

Whitley pulls it out and presents the appliance to Penny. Penny jumps up and rushes over to inspect the object, it’s in great condition and ready for use at any time!

With this the two hatch a plan.

After wiping down the pot, stove, a ladle, and a couple of cups with some rubbing alcohol and water, they make a mix of water and powdered milk, then set the pot to heat. As the milk mix boils they sit and wait to add the cocoa mix. As both are very inexperienced in cooking, they watched the pot carefully, Whitley from a bit further off than Penny as he was nowhere near as comfortable with the idea of hot bubbling liquid near his body as Penny was, especially in his current condition. Penny, however, takes the task a little too seriously as her enhanced senses allow her to precisely gauge the rising temperature of the milk substitute as it approaches its boiling point. She stares intensely at the pot, waiting for just the right moment.

Penny: Wait for it….just a few more seconds.

She mumbles, watching the bubbles until the critical moment, then-

Penny: Now!

She strikes! Following instructions on the back of the pack, Penny pours in the mix and tours down the heat before grabbing the ladle to stir the drink together. Her stirring method is gentle but firm going in a counter-clockwise motion at a steady speed. It’s the way her dad tended to stir things like soup or oatmeal and though she was no cook herself Penny was adequate at learning just by watching. Whitley watches on, silently impressed by her seemingly seamless ability to adapt to almost any situation.

Whitley: Is anything she can’t do?

He muses fondly, gaze ever fixed on Penny as she turns the heat on the pot off completely then looks back at him.

Penny: It’s ready!

She cheers, breaking Whitley out of his thoughts and into action. He grabs the mugs and holds them out for Penny to pour the hot cocoa in. The young lovers sit back in the bed, mugs in hand, and a mixed bag of candies and ginger snaps between them they have a pleasant little snack time in the panic room. Penny doesn’t reach for any of the snacks until Whitley does, hoping he’ll eat more if she takes less. The first thing he grabs is a ginger snap, something he hadn’t ever had before. Sure he had plenty of ginger-flavored desserts and foods before but most only had a trace amount for taste but this confection was known to have a lot more. He takes a cautious bite into the hard cookie and the moment he starts chewing the flavor hits him. It's dry but moist after a few seconds, taste made hearty by a mix of ginger, cinnamon, and sugar. Though the first two ingredients pair well when lightened by the third, those unfamiliar with the treat can find it a tad bit-

Whitley: Spicy!

-pungent.

Trying not to seem ungrateful or uncomfortable Whitley takes sips of his cocoa to wash it down. The sweetness of the drink is slightly undercut by its water base but its warmth does wonders to calm his tense body. He sighs softly as his shoulders relax, Penny notices and smiles. She unwraps one of the hard candies and holds it up for Whitley to take. The sweetness should be enough to soothe the sting of the gingersnap spice. She holds it right above his lips and true to his usual sly attitude, Whitley eats it directly out of her hand.

When all the treats are gone and they start cleaning up Whitley can’t shake off a sudden wave of fatigue. This wasn’t too uncommon after a blowup, once things settled down he’d feel a little drowsiness as his stress levels even back out but this was more pronounced than before. Perhaps it was Penny’s presence making him feel secure or maybe last night’s venting had taken more out of him than he thought. Regardless, at this moment Whitley Schnee only wanted one thing, sleep. He lies down on the bed, curling up into a comfortable position on his side. The bed wasn’t as comfortable as his own but he’d been in worse conditions than this. Looking up, he spots Penny sitting at the edge of the bed. He reaches over and taps the base of her spine with his fingertips, grabbing her attention. She looks back at him and is greeted by the sight of him gazing back at her on his side while patting the empty space beside him.

Whitley: Come here, let’s take a nap.

He beckons.

Penny: H-here? Now?

She questions completely caught off guard, but Whitley doesn’t relent. He knows how to get to her and just can’t give up this selfish whim of his to have her close. He pouts, softening his gaze to look a bit pitiful before asking again.

Whitley: Please? I really wanna hold you.

He pleads, bottom lip quivering as he pats the open space next to him. Penny is flustered, Whitley’s affections were usually subtle but bold but this was a new level. One she didn’t deserve, not anymore with the truths she’s hidden even during this trying time.

Still, it was so tempting.

Despite her guilt and frustration with the situation, the idea of lying down and embracing him was just too alluring. She came here to comfort and protect him after failing to notice his circumstances so how could she deny him what she was already willing and want to give?

Penny’s shoes hit the floor with a thump as she slides them off and rolls onto her side, laying down directly beside Whitley.

Whitley: Hi.

He chimes, a sweet blush and a soft smile illuminating his pale face.

Penny: Hi.

She replies, cheeks just as rosy, her eyes setting their transfixed gaze on his.

Staring face to face the shared desire for a kiss was immediately palpable, gazing into each other’s eyes as they lay so close that they could breathe in each other’s breath. It was only natural such intimate closeness would make both yearn to close the gap.

But Penny couldn’t let that happen, not with the truth still resting on her tongue and a wall of omission obscuring her true self.

So when Whitley leans in Penny doesn’t pull away but redirects, kissing his cheek before his lips can reach hers. Feeling his soft skin against her lips is sweet but sobering, she may not get another chance to do this anytime soon so against her better judgment Penny takes advantage. She clasps her hands around Whitley’s face and peppers it with slow gentle kisses, her body pushing up to his as she seeks better access.

Whitley is stunned at the first kiss but by the third, he relaxes into the soft swarm of tenderness he’s receiving. He wraps his arms around her middle to better feel her warmth. After Penny places a final kiss on his forehead she moves her hands to wrap around his shoulders, burying her face into the crook of his neck. The two exchange no more words, instead they are lulled to sleep by the soft tones of each other’s breathing and the beats of their hearts.

As she begins to drift off Penny recalls the state in which this all came to be. She still hadn’t told Whitley she was an android, Jacques had still beaten his son mercilessly without punishment, and her boots were still covered in the ashy entrails of her previous night’s outburst. This was far from over and the consequences would come back to bite her at some point.

But right now, Penny didn’t care about any of that. Right now she wanted to sleep in the arms of the boy she loved, even though this could be the last time she did.

[whatanoof]

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

[scarlvtbitch]

Rusty

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: it’s bucky and reader’s first time but its also buckys first time in 90 years, he feels a little bit insecure about it

warning: smut (unprotected sex, metal arm kink kinda)

Y/N and Bucky were dating for a month now. After years of miscommunication and pining after one another, they were finally together. The team was really relieved because they didn’t have to suffer through their doey eyes and sexual tension. But there was sexual tension, alright.

After a month of dating they haven’t been intimate that way. They’ve kissed and cuddled but nothing more than that. Y/N wanted nothing more than to be taken by Bucky. She wanted her body to be only his. He never tried though. That was the frustrating part for her. Whenever they would be making out he was always the first one to pull away. Something would always come up before they could go any further.

This just made Y/N insecure. The first reason that popped in her brain was that he didn’t like her enough to sleep with her. One day, she was with Wanda on the couch. It had been a long time since she’d seen her and she really needed her best friend in moments like this. She couldn’t keep it in her chest any longer.

“Bucky doesn’t want to sleep with me.” She blurted out, making Wanda almost choke on her drink.

“Did he tell you that?” 

“No.” She groaned and hid her face in her palms. “Every time things get...heated, he always pulls away. Am I that ugly?”

“Y/N, don’t talk like that. You’re beautiful and you know it. I’m sure Bucky knows it too. That can’t be the reason, you just need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” If only her anxiety didn’t eat her alive whenever she thought a million different ways the conversation could go. But an idea came to her head. Bucky was going to drop by later, just like he always did and it was the perfect opportunity to talk to him. However, she decided to add a little bit of spice of her own.

It took the whole afternoon for Y/N to get ready. She showered, shaved, did her hair and makeup. Then she put on the sexiest set of lingerie she owned, which consisted of black lace. She put nothing over it.

A knock on the door startled her, she took one last glance at herself in the mirror before she opened it.

Bucky’s mouth dropped at the sight before him. Y/N’s figure was hugged by black lace, her breasts on full display for him. He gulped as he could feel his mouth start to dry. He accepted her invitation to come inside. He could feel his erection begin to spring to life. His heart was wildly beating inside his chest and he could feel his palm start to sweat under his glove. Y/N waved her hand towards her couch, silently telling him that it was okay to take a seat.

He sat down and she was straddling his lap in an instant. Her core hovering over his bulge. He growled as he pushed her head towards his lips, Y/N moaned at his roughness. He suddenly pulled away.

“Buck, do-do you not want this? Do you not want me?”

“God, no, doll. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone. You’re so goddamn beautiful, I don’t know how I’ve held myself back so many times. The truth is...” He rested his hands on her hips as he took a moment, scared of saying the words out loud. “I haven’t done this in ninety years. I don’t want to mess it up.” Y/N quickly raised her hands and cupped Bucky’s face. Caressing her thumb over his cheek bones.

“Baby, you won’t mess anything up. We’ll go slow, if you want. I don’t want to pressure you, I’ll wait for you no matter what.”

“I appreciate that, doll.” He grabbed one of her hands that was resting on his cheek and brought it over to his lips. “But you’re way too irresistible for me to wait any longer.” She squealed when he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He gently set her down and his lips started making their way down her body. He pulled down the cups of her bra and freed her breasts. He wasted no time in latching his mouth to one of them while his flesh hand played with the other.

Y/N squirmed underneath him. The river between her legs making it hard to focus on anything else. He spent too much time between her breasts, and while he had a really talented mouth for someone who was scared of being bad because he hadn’t done this for over 80 years, she needed it somewhere else.

She dug her nails deep in his fabric covered biceps and whined out his name.

“What’s the matter, doll? What do you need?”

“You. Just you.” She managed to say. Bucky smirked against her and pulled away to take off his shirt. Y/N had seen Bucky shirtless while training but that didn’t stop her from being mesmerized by him. She was pretty sure he was sculpted by the gods themselves. Bucky laughed and her heart skipped a beat when she realized she actually said that aloud. 

“Thanks, doll. You’re pretty beautiful yourself.” He winked at her and she went to hide her face in her hands but he grabbed her wrists and leaned forward. Placing gentle loving kisses on her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Her heart melted at his actions.

Y/N decided enough was enough and went to pull his pants down, along with his underwear. His fully hard member bobbed against his stomach and she felt a rush of wetness emerge from her heat. Her eyes widened when she saw him. He was thick and long, she already thought he was perfect but this was the cherry on top. She gave him a few strokes, wanting to see what he felt like in her hand. Solid but soft and warm. He closed his eyes and grunted above her, his hand suddenly on her wrist as he put a stop to her motions.

“I need to be inside you.” Y/N nodded furiously against him before he lined himself up against her center and wasted no time in thrusting forward, all the way to the hilt.

Y/N cried out at the feeling. She felt so deliciously full and sex has never felt so right. She’s had sex before of course, but never with someone who she had strong feelings for like the man who was currently inside her. Wanda had once told her that casual sex was nothing compared to sex between two people who adored each other. Boy, was she right.

Bucky groaned and stilled above her. Wanting to savor how it felt to be gripped by her walls, and also wanting to give her time to adjust to him. She gave him the green light a few seconds later.

“Move, Buck, please.” 

“As you wish.” He then thrusted in and out of her at a steady pace. Y/N moaned at how good he felt, her exes could barely bring her to an orgasm but with Bucky, she knew she wasn’t going to last long. 

“Harder.” She breathed out.

“What was that?” He paused his motions.

“You’re such an ass.”

“Beg for it.”

“Fuck me harder, please.” He didn’t need to be told twice. His hips pounded into her harder and faster. The only sounds in the room were skin slapping against skin, the headboard rattling against the wall and their moans and grunts filling the air. Y/N suddenly got an idea. She brought her hand to his metal arm and gestured towards it.

“Touch me with it, please.” Bucky’s eyes widened because in all truth he didn’t want to use that arm during these activities. He was too ashamed of it.

“Y/N-”

“I love you, Bucky. Every part of you. So I’m asking you touch me with it.” She repeated.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked its way in between them and started rubbing tight circles against her clit.

She hissed and cried out when the cold met her warmth, getting her closer and closer...

Bucky could start feeling her core flutter against him, signaling that she was almost there. 

“Come for me, doll.” He rubbed faster against her, giving her one last deep stroke until she exploded underneath him. Her orgasm triggered his and he buried his face in her neck, giving her a small bite as he spilled himself into her.

Y/N moaned at the feeling of his cum deep in her belly.

They panted against each other until they were able to catch their breath and get their heart rates back to normal. He pulled his now soft member out of her and Y/N frowned at the loss. He tugged at the sheets on her bed and went to cover both of them up. Y/N nestled against his side, resting her hand on his sweaty chest.

She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, keeping her face buried in the crook of his neck. His flesh arm trailed up and down her back, drawing lines with his fingers.

He placed a kiss against her hair and then whispered an I love you before sleep finally swept over both of them.

[jschlattsbabydoll]

Ocean Away Part 2 (Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader)

A/N: Hi! How are you? 

Sorry for the delays for part 2. But here you are 😊

I’m sorry if the story felt rushed, but I would be editing the story once it has been finished for a more detailed version of the story.

Thank you so much for the support for part 1. The notes on this one is amazing currently at 119 notes…. Thank you so much! Hopefully part 2 won’t disappoint.

And I want to tag @eggbutnotyolk and @kaiorik​ , Thank you for commenting and the support! <3

I won’t take so much of the space here.

Please enjoy part 2! :)

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“Far away, an ocean away. Where I won’t let you hurt me again.” – Loreen, Ocean Away.

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 “Don’t leave me.”

 “I won’t.”, You lied.

  Around 12 noon, you awoke from your bed. You around your room to see a note on the bedside cabinet,

“I will be meeting up with Kuina for just a bit.” – Chishiya. 

Then suddenly memories of last night came rushing back on your mind…

You’ll be leaving Chishiya.

Suddenly tears fell down your body, with the memories of last night, your talk with your uncles and after that with him… It was so fucked up on how much you doubt your plan right now. Is this how he can easily manipulate you into thinking things? 

Every night that you two have been together, his body is so warm that you love being with him, but the feelings he portrays, they lack emotions, it was so cold that she would give so much time and space. She would always wait for him to come to her instead.

The game that he plays is dangerous. He is willing to give up everything, even her.

*Flashback*

“Chishiya! Help me! I’m drowning!” you looked at the man you loved the most, he looked back with the coldest eyes that you have ever seen, then he took off.

You screamed loudly for his name, but he didn’t come back.

“Y/N!!!” you heard someone scream your name, hoping that it was Chishiya that he might just went and took some back up.

As you slowly went down, you felt someone pull you from the water, as you were place on land, you coughed hard and tears started to form from your eyes, it suddenly hurt to breathe in and out, but you needed to breathe.

You quickly look at the person who saved you. It was Arisu.

“Arisu…” You said as you slowly started to cry, you couldn’t even form any sentence right now with the outburst of feelings that you have inside, “I.. I thought… I… No…Chishiya… Why?” you tried to speak, as you looked into Arisu’s eyes for answers. You suddenly grabbed Arisu’s sleeves for support. You saw in his eyes that he was worried and pained with the panicked and crying form that you are in.

“Why?! Arisu… Arisu….? Chishiya… left me….”  You continue to break down, you let go of Arisu’s sleeve and you placed both hands on your face.

Arisu suddenly hugged you, “I’m sorry… This is all I could offer you.”

The sadness, dread, disappointment, and the pain are now mixing all in together. Now all you could think of is wishing that you died than suffering under Chishiya’s side.

 “why?” you said through tears with the only answer is pure silence.

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 “HATTER! HATTER! HATTER!” Everyone screamed and cheered their leader, who was leaving for a game with Aguni and you. Your uncle waved from the back seat and smiled at everybody for their immense support, 

While your Uncle Aguni drove the car, you sat on the passenger seat. While the car is slowly leaving the Beach’s premises. You through the crowd and saw him. 

He looked at you eye to eye, but you removed you eyes from his gaze. You didn’t want to leave him, but staying with him hurt a lot more. 

As your uncle Aguni drove off, you uncle Hatter looked at you, “don’t be sad, my child. I know that the beach has everything you need and can ever ask for this world. But, remember, if you need some space from the people within my walls, you can always go a different location.”

You nodded your head, “Thank you Uncle Hatter and Uncle Aguni.”

“Just a bit of wait. We’ll be out of this country and we can have our lives back.” Aguni said as he took a turn to the arena, a school building. 

“After this game, we will be driving you off to your hiding spot. It would be from the other side of Tokyo near Shibuya… We will keep track of you now and then. You will be joining games from the other side, just let us know what is going on, what games you played and what card you have received.” Hatter has explained, “And just to completely hide your identity from other players, you might need to change your hair color or maybe let you wear a mask.” 

“Anyways, the place that we have chosen is near a mall, but we would still be providing for you as promised once we visit you again.” Aguni added,

“Noted.” You answered, as you got out of the car. You opened the car door for you uncle and helped him out, “Uncle Hatter, having a hard time getting out of the car?”

“I’m almost at my 30’s dear. I’m getting old.” He joked, “Wish I could go back to the simpler days.”

You smiled, “30 is not old uncle. Besides, you are still so full of life.”

As your Uncle Aguni got out of the car, “By the way… I followed your plan.” He said while looking at Hatter, “As dangerous as it sounds, but I told Niragi about the plan.”

Niragi wasn’t a good person. You’ve had some issues with Niragi and his awful behavior. Your uncle Aguni has explained and made it very clear with Niragi that you cannot be touched by him in anyway. You two had a very civil talk once after a game where you saved him from being mauled by a tiger, because he lost bullets from his riffle.

He became honest with his feelings that he didn’t thought that someone would save him.

Later he opened up being bullied in class, being thrown by rocks and there is a point system in it. You would always remember his glasses were 50 points and his crotch area is 100 points. He didn’t have any friends at all and even if people would see him being beaten up, no one came to his aid.

 “I know that you don’t see me as your friend. But hiding from a sadistic silhouette won’t give you happiness. Yes, people are afraid of you, but that doesn’t ease the pain. I know, what they have done in the real world is wrong and un humane. But in the end of the day, you’re just human. We all have scars. And if you keep that inside, you’ll go insane… Actually, you are already. But, don’t go down further, Niragi. If you want someone to let out your outburst inside, I’m here.” 

“Why do you…. Why are you so nice?” he asked,

“I don’t know. But it’s all I can give right now. You deserve it, even if you think you don’t.”

 You kept his secrets, he’s still a douchebag with others after your encounter with him, but he became nice to you ever since. 

Chishiya didn’t like the closeness between you and Niragi. Sometimes, he would interrupt a conversation between you and Niragi.

“Y/n… “ Chishiya said, intervening the conversation you have with Niragi, “Let’s go.” Extending his hands to hold your hand, 

“Interrupting again? You make me angry, Chishiya. “, Niragi said with full annoyance, “Jealous, because your girlfriend is so fond of me?”

“hm….” Chishiya smirked, “I trust her that she won’t fall for someone who’s dumb witted as you.”

Things escalated very quickly, with Niragi pointing his riffle towards Chishiya’s head and Chishiya with his knife on Niragi’s neck,

“I’ll blow your head up, you fucker!” Niragi angrily said,

“Not if I slit your fucking throat.”

“STOP! STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING!” You screamed, “Stop acting so fucking childish!”

They came to their senses and placed down their weapons, Niragi huffed with annoyance, he would have killed Chishiya if you didn’t stop him.

“I’ll go with Chishiya.” You looked towards Niragi, “I’m sorry Niragi. But I’ll talk again with you, okay? “

“Okay.” Niragi said in defeat. You touched his cheeks as a form of goodbye and then you left with Chishiya.

“Niragi knows about the plan?” you asked, looking through your uncle Hatter’s eyes,

“Yes. He’s like a back up that we have. He seems so fond of you, If ever that we can’t go towards your location due to meetings or maybe emergencies, we can secretly asked Niragi’s help.”

“Oh, at least… I have someone to talk to…” you said within you mind,

You started to walk with uncle to face the game that you will be all joining.

Hopefully, no one dies during this game.

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~Time Skip~

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 You three finished the game and was granted 6 days of visa. You all drove off near Shibuya, and they have sent you to your new location. It was a hotel, it was two blocks away from a mall, which can give you supplies for your stay here. 

You Uncle Aguni has handed you a walkie talkie, and tested it with his, Hatter and one of the Walkie for Niragi.

“You sure, you’ll be okay without us, dear?” Hatter asked once more,

You smiled, “Yes… I will be. I can talk to you any time with these walkie talkies. And If ever I’ll just give you a beep.” Then you hugged your uncle Hatter and then your Uncle Aguni.

“I know that you’re just keeping quiet, but you’ll miss me too, Uncle Aguni.” You teased, he smirked,

“Don’t get too cocky…” He said, but then he patted you gently on the head, “I would miss you…Just be careful here kid.”

“I will.” You smiled, after a few minutes, they were gone… Leaving you all alone.

Tears started to fall from your eyes, “I’m sorry, Chishiya…”

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 Everyone cheered on as Hatter and Aguni arrived, they chanted their names.

They went to the balcony and then Hatter raised his hands to stop the noise from the crowd below him.

He removed his sunglasses and he acted devastated…with tears on his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Thank you… Thank you for being happy that Aguni and I have come safe and sound from the war that we have joined tonight…” he said then stopped, he was now hearing whispers asking on where you are.

“You might have noticed that when we left, we have brought our precious y/n… We have a terrible news to tell… A death of an executive has happened… the death of our sweet child, y/n…”

Everybody went silent shocked to hear that one of the best players have died.

“She sacrificed her life for us… But…” Hatter wiped his fake tears on his face, “We will not let her death go in vain… We promised that we would complete the cards and in the end; we will survive this country and get out of this soon on her behalf. We need you all to fulfill this promise for her not just for her but also for yourselves…”

Unknown to everybody, a person on the floor above the balcony has been watching the whole scene, Chishiya, who has heard the news, ran towards your room. Thinking that this might me a sick joke that Hatter has brought to everybody.

But he was greeted by an empty room.

He tried to search everywhere, but you were gone. 

He stopped looking for you and he went in front of your room door again.

He has mixed feeling about everything, he placed his hand to his chest. He felt a different kind of loneliness inside his chest.

“What would you do If I suddenly got lost or disappeared?” He remembers your question last night.

“This might be some sick joke…” he whispered to himself, “It’s impossible for you to die… not now.” As he was about to leave your door step, he saw Aguni walking towards him,

“Interesting.” He heard Aguni said while walking towards him, “what are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by.” Chishiya kept a straight face, “why did you let her die?”

Aguni smirked, “Caring now, Cheshire? It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Hm.” Chishiya didn’t speak, but instead let Aguni walk by past him.

When Aguni was already 1 feet away from Chishiya, “Don’t fake it too much…  Isn’t this what you wanted? To see her dead? That’s why you left her in one of the games?”

Chishiya turned around to answer his question, but Aguni was gone.

 “Don’t leave me…”

 “Why?” Chishiya asked to nobody as he remembers you..

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[TBC]

[maniac4marvel-fluff-addition]

Hey guys, the current fic is taking a bit longer than I thought it would for a few reasons. One thing being, it's longer than I guess (probs gonna be between 4k to 4kplus words) and life has been hectic as hell.

But here's a sneak peek of the story so far:

As the others continued their conversation she slipped out of the kitchen, racing down the hall towards the elevator mortified at the realization her friends teammates had heard her singing. She had only ever sung to herself, or in front of her parents and sister. She knew her voice wasn't the best, but she could at least sing Happy Birthday. And that was only because she could hide her voice under everyone else singing. Most days she would have ignored her friends teasing or poked fun right back at them, but today she didn't have the energy.

"Then let's have one of those! Lady Natasha how does a night of karaoke sound!" Thor boasted as he turned to where Natasha last was, "Where'd she go?"

Steve followed Natasha down the hall, "Nat wait up!" He was only a few steps behind her when the elevator doors began to close. He just managed to stick his arm through the doors before they closed. "You tried to close the doors on me."

"No." Natasha crossed her arms as she stepped to the side making room for him.

Steve eyed her, "What's wrong? Why'd you leave back there?"

Natasha huffed, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek, "I didn't want to hear everyone talking about my 'great' singing. It's too early."

Steve's eyes soften, "You never run from teases. And don't put quotes around great, no one's joking about how your singing is. Your voice is amazing. You're a great singer." Natasha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms tighter.

Steve huffed, he knew there was something deeper bothering her. This morning's workout, her sleeping in, and now not engaging in verbal sparring. Something was wrong. His gaze never left Natasha as he pushed the emergency stop button. "We're not leaving till you admit you're a great singer."

Natasha jilted as the elevator came to an abrupt stop. "Steve what the hell! FRIDAY, call Tony to get us unstuck."

FRIDAY's voice chippered over the speaker, "Sorry Ms. Romanoff the Capitan stated not to alert Tony until after you've agreed with him." Natasha could have sworn she detected a hint of mischief.

"Override the command then!"

"Access denied."

Steve smirked, "Well…"

"Well, nothing." Natasha snapped, "I’ll wait till you get bored." Natasha settled cross-legged on the floor. Her eye stayed fixated on the wall in front of her.

Steve let out a small laugh as he looked at the sight in front of him. It was a rare sight to see a sulking Black Widow, but she can be just as petulant as Tony or Clint. Well, if she was going to act childish so would Steve.

Steve kneeled next to her, "There's other ways to get you to talk."

[nev3rfound]

resonate : b.b

in a world after the blip, like many you find yourself in therapy. yet, you run into someone you never anticipated meeting. (4k - it’s long, i couldn’t stop but i hope you like it!!)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the lovely @interestedcas​ - thank you sm for the request angel :) (i’ve changed one or two details around, but i hope that’s okay!) warnings: mentions of depression, murder, being in therapy, angst but fluffy ending 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

It doesn’t matter how many times you visit, you still despise going to her office. The routine never changes; you walk into the lobby and sign in, scribbling an attempted signature before entering the elevator.

Four floors up, you exit and simply wait on the sunken grey sofa. The magazines are out of date- from before everything happened. No one ever talks to one another, too lost in their own thoughts whilst your head remains too empty.

And then something changes. You can hear her door opening and a heavy sigh from someone exiting. “James,” She calls after the person emerging from her office who keeps his head low.

You can’t help but watch the spectacle before you, clad in leather and dark jeans, his face shielded from your view as he passes you by.

Doctor Raynor stands in the waiting room with her hands on her hips, notepad in hand as she mutters something under her breath.

“Hey, Doc.” You wave, breaking her deep thought as she looks over to you with that set frown across her lips.

“Y/n,” Doctor Raynor walks toward you, lowering her notebook into her pocket. “sorry for the wait, come on through.”

Rising to your feet, you follow behind her as you walk through the bleak corridors lined with framed photos of brighter scenes; couples on a beach during sunset, animals on a farm and your personal favourite- fireworks in New York City.

“So,” Closing the door, Raynor takes her seat opposite you, observing you as you lean back on the large couch. “how are you doing this week, Y/n?”

“Fine, I guess.” Shrugging your shoulders is an automatic response to those words. Yet, it’s never enough to keep Raynor happy as she opens her notebook. “You really have something to write already, after one sentence?” You remark, tutting under your breath as you look around the room whilst she scribbles on her pages.

“You know the whole purpose of coming here is to talk.” She comments, now looking up at you. “Let’s try again, shall we? How are you doing this week?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you stare blankly back at her. “Why’d your last patient storm out like that?” Avoiding her question, you can see her jaw clenching as she leans back in the armchair. “Guess someone else was having a bad day, huh?” You chuckle dryly, and to your surprise, she nods along.

“Everyone has bad days,” She remarks. “some worse than others.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.” You respond, bringing your legs up as you sit cross-legged and hug the nearest cushion into your lap. “I, I had another nightmare,” You admit, trying to ignore the sound of her pen against paper. “it wasn’t as graphic, or, violent.”

“What happened this time?” Doctor Raynor asks, averting her attention from her notebook as you bite your lower lip, unaware of how hard you’re biting down until you feel blood against your tongue. “Y/n?” Snapping her fingers, you emerge from your thoughts and wipe your lip, ignoring the crimson on your fingertips.

“I just saw them, lying there whilst the building was burning.” You try to ignore the sound of cries, distant sirens and pleas for help in the back of your mind. “But there wasn’t any blood, they were just lying there like they were fine, just, sleeping.”

“And why do you think that is?” Raynor taps her pen repetitively.

“Is there a reason? Some sort of coping mechanism or mental response?” You ask, turning it back on her as she purses her lips, contemplating her response.

“It can be perceived as you purifying them,” She suggests. “trying to see them as innocent.”

“But they weren’t.” You quickly comment. “No one was during that time.”

“What about yourself?” Raynor questions and you scoff loudly.

“Course I wasn’t innocent during that, I mean,” You motion to the room you’re currently in. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You laugh, feeling your nails digging into the cushion on your lap.

“Listen, Y/n, you have to break through this. Have you tried writing down about these nightmares after they happen?” You nod and Doctor Raynor shuffles in her seat, now resting her arms against her legs. “How about you get some fresh air? Have you tried contacting anyone you lost touch with since the blip?”

“They don’t know who I am anymore.” You mutter.

“Get a grip, Y/n. You’re not the lead in a rom-com.” Raynor sighs.

“You’re kinda mean, you know that, right?” You snap back, and she simply holds her hands up in defence. “I’ll try again this week, maybe I’ll meet a nice guy at a coffee shop.” The sarcasm rolls off your tongue as you stand up. “This was fun, Doc,” You flash a smile, ignoring the abrupt closing of her notebook.

“Y/n,” Doctor Raynor drags your name out as you reach the door.

“Can’t wait for next week!” You wave slowly whilst your back faces the door, unaware of the strong wall you collide against. “Oof.” A noise escapes your lips as you quickly turn around.

Forcing your gaze upwards, you recognise the unapologetic stoic expression from anywhere. He was listed amongst those lost in the blip, one of the fallen Avengers.

Yet, standing before you he seems softer. His eyes remain locked on you despite Doctor Raynor nearing you both.

“James, decided to try our session again?” Doctor Raynor comments, and you break your focus from the former soldier.

“I’ll see you next week, Doc.” Your tone softens as you slip past Bucky and quickly walk down the corridor, unaware of his eyes following you, wishing he at least introduced himself.

“You can try again next week, James. She'll be back.” Doctor Raynor pulls the door further open, and with his head hanging low, Bucky nods to himself before taking up your seat.

*

Screaming yourself awake, you heave a breath as you clutch your chest, trying to focus on controlling your heart rate.

Tears stream down your cheeks uncontrollably. “Y/n?” Your roommate calls out, knocking lightly on your door. “Can I come in?” She asks quietly, peering through the door to see you sat upright with one hand covering your mouth whilst the other grips the bedsheets. “Oh, babe.” She hums, walking over and sits beside you.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, allowing you time to process what just happened, the sight of their body beneath your feet, your hands coated in crimson as the flames roared through the windows, shattering in an instant. “Why is it we can never remember dreams, but we always remember our nightmares?” You think aloud into the darkness, glancing over to see it was only 1 in the morning.

“I, I don’t know.” She mutters. “Can I get you anything?”

Shaking your head, your roommate rises to her feet. “I think I’m going to get some fresh air.” You state, tearing the covers from your body as you grab your jacket, slipping it on over your pyjamas.

“Y/n, I love you but it’s 1am. It’s not exactly safe to go out.” She crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring you shrugging your shoulders in response. “At least let me come with you.”

“It’s fine, really.” You object, walking towards the front door knowing you've experienced a lot worse during the blip whilst she was absent, one of the missing. “I’ve got my phone, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before she can say anything else, you walk out and close the door quietly behind you, craving solitude from the one place you’ll know you can get it.

Feeling the cool chill of Autumn creeping in, you tug your jacket further across your chest and bury your hands into the deep pockets. You fiddle with the remanents of tissue in the left pocket, picking it apart to suppress the memories of the nightmare that begin to plague your thoughts once more.

Your feet lead the way whilst your mind remains preoccupied, unaware of the dewy grass beneath your sneakers and the quiet conversations occurring across the park.

Sitting down, you can feel the coolness dampening your trousers, but you’re too lost to care; and seemingly too oblivious to notice the man approaching you with a deep-set frown.

“It’s not exactly wise to be out alone this late you know.” He tells you, standing a few feet away from you whilst your eyes remain locked on the trampled dandelion in front of your scuffed sneakers. “Is everything okay?”

You force yourself to nod. “Yeah, thanks.” You mutter, hearing him shuffle closer until he’s sat by your side, allowing a gap between you both as he sighs loudly. “Why’re you sitting with me? There’s an entire park for you to enjoy.” You remark, now glancing over to the stranger who notices you tense. “You’re,”

He simply nods. “Yeah.” Bucky lowers his head, knowing you’d recognise him for that reason, of course, that’s all he’s known for.

“You’re the guy from Raynor's office, right?” You finish, and Bucky lifts his head up, a genuine small smile crossing his lips as he nods.

“Yeah.” His voice is softer now, his heart rising in his chest. “I’m James.” He holds his gloved hand out, and you accept it.

“Y/n.” You shake it before hiding your hand once more into your pocket. “So, what’s wrong with you then?” You chuckle dryly. “Traumatic childhood? Oh, how about PTSD?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Something like that.” He remarks, looking up at the stars pinpricked in the sky. “So why’re you out here then?”

“I could ask you the same,” You retort, glancing over to focus on him, having only briefly noticed him the other day at the bleak office. Yet here, he seems calm, his expression is relaxed as opposed to stoic, you could even say he seems happy at a stretch. “but I won’t, ‘cause I’m not Raynor.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Bucky jokes with ease as he hears you laugh quietly. “The pyjamas really add to it I’ll admit.” He glances down, quickly noticing you rolling your eyes, but there’s only humour lining your expression, no sign of disgust.

“I, I couldn’t sleep.” You speak up, bringing your legs to your chest as you wrap your arms around them, keeping them in place. “Nightmares, you know?”

Nodding knowingly, Bucky turns his attention to the homeless man curled up on the bench, a knife catching his gaze.

“Do you wanna go for a walk? I know from experience that usually helps me clear my head.” Bucky suggests, rising to his feet as he holds his gloved hand out for you.

“And why would I do such a thing? I barely know you, James.” You remind him, looking up at his hand before lifting your eyes up to meet his.

“True,” He hums, secretly relieved that you don’t know him. “at least let me walk you home?”

Hearing the homeless man beginning to stir and muttering nonsense, you sigh before taking Bucky’s hand as he pulls you up with ease. You almost fall into his chest, but you force your hand out to rest on his shoulder to stop yourself.

“Sorry,” You mutter, focusing on how your shoes are almost touching his.

Breathing out a laugh in your hair, Bucky shrugs his shoulder. “No worries, doll.” It slips out too easily, but you don’t seem to notice as you walk alongside Bucky.

The two of you walk through the streets in comfortable silence. For once, you don’t feel obliged to talk through the short walk, that you have to somehow convince him that you’re feeling fine; because he knows how it feels.

You can mentally list over one hundred questions you could potentially ask him about his past, about the 40′s and who he once was. But you know it isn’t fair to delve into someone else’s memories, invade into something he might not fully remember. So tonight, he remains as James from Doctor Raynor's office, and you’re content with just that.

“Well, this is me.” You motion to the front door of the small apartment building, noticing your lamp is still on in your room. “Thanks again for walking me back, James.”

“Anytime.” Bucky smiles. “I guess I’ll erm,” He stumbles over his words, internally screaming at himself to just ask for your number or to take you out for coffee sometime. “I’ll see you around.” He nods, unable to form the words he wishes he could say. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You smile before opening the front door, disappearing out of sight as Bucky turns on his heels, about to force himself to ask for your number.

“Next time, Buck.” He mutters to himself, knowing Raynor will give him shit for not trying hard enough when he next visits her.

*

“-stupid fucking elevator!” You groan loudly as the doors finally open and you stumble out, oblivious to Bucky exiting Raynor's office and standing in the waiting room, hearing you coming his way.

Looking around, Bucky shuffles the outdated magazines and takes a seat. He tugs on his trousers and his jacket, wishing he wore something different this morning if he knew you’d be coming today.

As you turn the corner, the anxieties slowly ease when Bucky smiles your way. “Morning.” Bucky waves, trying to hide how fast his heart is beating in his chest as you walk toward him apprehensively.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” You state, looking at the options before you as the waiting room remains empty beside the two of you.

Yet, before you can fully run through your options on where would be best to sit, Bucky moves along on the grey sofa, allowing you room to sit beside him.

“I just, er, finished.” He mutters, unsure where to focus.

“And you decided to hang out at the happiest place on Earth for the sake of it?” You raise a brow to him.

“I was leaving, but then I heard you.” Bucky mentally applauds himself, knowing Sam would be proud once he tells him. “Not to sound creepy or anything,” He quickly adds, but you’re laughing to yourself, shaking your head happily.

“Not creepy at all, James.” You assure him, giving him a playful nudge of his arm. “So, solve any deep routed trauma today?” You joke with ease, something Bucky is secretly thankful for.

Usually, in the waiting room, there’s a man in his fifties who shakes with nerves. He’s never met Bucky’s gaze once, refuses to.

“Gettin’ there.” Bucky tells you, now turning his body toward yours as he rests his arm over the couch. “Listen, Y/n,” He starts, only to be cut off by the sound of the door opening and Doctor Raynor presenting herself.

“James? You’re still here?” The Doctor questions, clearly surprised until her eyes pan over to see you sat beside him. “Hi Y/n, come on through.” She motions and you stand up.

“Wish me luck.” You wink to Bucky, oblivious to the near heart palpitations you cause as the door closes behind you.

Averting his attention to the dusty clock, Bucky contemplates his next move. He could leave now, and simply hope he’ll see you again next time he visits. Or, he could wait for you. You could only be an hour at the most, and it isn’t Wednesday so Yori isn’t anticipating a lunch trip either.

So, Bucky leant back on the sofa, closing his eyes to stop himself from homing in on the conversation on the other side of that door.

“Well, I’ve got to say, you seem happier today.” Raynor remarks.

“I guess I am.” You honestly answer, not forcing your self-defence shield up before your eyes for the first time in a while. “I, I’ve not had a nightmare in three days.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Relieved? But I don’t know like I’ve gotten so used to reliving it, and everything that happened and now not seeing it feels,” You pause as you grab a hold of the cushion beside you. “alien.”

“That’s perfectly normal, Y/n.” Raynor assures you. “Simple things such as distractions can often cause nightmares to diminish, or perhaps new people in your lives who cause a positive influence.” She trails off, turning her head toward the closed door; motioning to the man sat in the waiting room.

“James?” You scoff lightly, trying to brush it off. However, Doctor Raynor notices you shift as you pick up the cushion, relaxing it on your lap. “No, he’s, I barely know him.” You tell her, hearing her hum in response.

“Do you know about him, though?” Raynor questions, watching as you nod slowly.

“Of course I do,” You say sadly. “I remember the news broadcasts and when the blip happened, him being among those lost.” You explain, fiddling with the hem of the cushion as a distraction.

Outside the room, Bucky can feel his heart sink. You know who he is, and what he’s done. How could he think someone like you could trust him, get to know him after his past?

“He’s changing though,” The words leave your lips quickly, and Bucky tilts his head up toward the door once more. “I, I don’t know how to explain it, but he seems like a good guy.”

Scribbling in her notepad, Doctor Raynor nods along. “I can’t comment due to patient confidentiality, Y/n.” She shrugs, looking past you and up toward the small camera hidden in the ceiling light. “But, I will say he’s mentioned you.”

A gentle laugh leaves your lips as you raise a brow. “So much for confidentiality there, Doc.” Pausing, you think back to the other night when he found you in the park and walked you home. He didn’t say much, but then again he didn’t need to. His company alone was warm, and it was since that night your nightmares stopped.

“What’re you thinking, Y/n?” Raynor tilts her head, trying to gauge your current thought process.

Glancing up, you stare blankly back at her. “What if my nightmares come back?” You sadly ask. “What if them stopping was just a temporary fix? I, I don’t want to see it anymore, I don’t want to wake up thinking my hands are coated in their blood.” Tears build up in your eyes for the first time in days, threatening to spill over like your misconstrued thoughts.

“Have you practised any of your coping methods since I last saw you?”

You pause, looking up as tears fall from your eyes. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “I went to the park, the one down the street.” You slowly explain, your ears perking up at the familiar sound of her pen against paper. “And, and James was there.”

“So, since that night, you haven’t?” Doctor Raynor trails off at the motion of your head shaking. “Alright,” She closes her notebook over and places it on the floor beside her. “Y/n, I want you to go out there, talk to James and ask him out or something.”

“I, I can’t do that.” Tensing up, you tighten your grip on the cushion that previously remained relaxed against your lap. “That’s just dumb.” You defend yourself, ignoring your heart that’s been thinking about the man since that night.

“Dumb or not, it’s worth a try.” Raynor leans back, crossing her arms having listened to an identical conversation with Bucky just over an hour before.

“Is that it then?” You ask.

“Until you have something else to tell me,” Doctor Raynor rises to her feet as she approaches the door whilst you remain seated, apprehensive to face James whenever you’ll next see him.

“Am I just meant to find him somehow?” You quietly ask in the Doctors direction, hearing the door creep open.

Unaware of the small smile crossing her lips, she glances back at you. “I’m sure you will, Y/n.” She comments, returning to her seat whilst you head to the door, slipping out without any further discussion.

Yet, as you glance up, you freeze.

“James?” Utterly perplexed, Bucky half-heartedly waves to you. “I, why’re you still here?” You step forward, only to witness Bucky stepping backwards.

“You know who I am?” Sadness drips from his words as he struggles to meet your gaze.

“James,” You speak up, but Bucky shakes his head before he brushes past you, heading toward the elevator.

Remaining glued to the spot you’re standing in, you simply watch the elevator doors open as Bucky slips inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Doctor Raynor sighs loudly, standing in the doorway. “Go!” Watching you walk away, a smile ghosts her lips as she reflects on the pair of you, both lost souls so close to finding a home.

Without needing to be told twice, your feet suddenly move with ease. You’re running through the bleak corridors, seeing blurs of colour crossing your peripheral vision as you reach the stairwell.

“Stupid.” Bucky mutters to himself. How could he have gotten his hopes up?

Exiting the building, Bucky takes the left turn and walks down the street, burying his gloved hands in his pockets.

“James!” You yell, puffing heavily as you slam the office doors open, looking around for any sign of him.

Upon hearing you call his name, Bucky pauses and dares to look over his shoulder to see you wiping your face. “Fuck.” You mutter, burying your face in your hands, only flinching and moving when a hand rests on your shoulder.

Looking up, those sweet blue eyes home in on yours. “Wanna go to the park?” Bucky calmly suggests, relieved when you nod and walk alongside him in silence, the only sound between you both being you sniffing and the hammering of his heart against his chest.

As the pair of you reach the large metal gate, Bucky allows you to walk ahead whilst he holds it open. Usually, you might have a joke or suave comment to make, but today you mutter a thank you before he returns to your side.

“James,”

“Y/n,”

You both pause, interrupting one another as you stop in the middle of the pathway, ignoring the laughter of children around you playing happily.

“I’m sorry,” You start the conversation whilst he remains quiet by your side. “I didn’t want to say anything or bring it up as I know what it’s like to be known by your past actions.” Furrowing your brows, you try to ignore the child screaming and crying ahead of you, watching their Mother pick them up and cradle them close in her arms.

Bucky follows your line of vision, seeing the Mother sway side to side as her child’s cries begin to subside.

“I just wanted to get to know you.” Whispering the sentence you can’t help but close your eyes as it simply hangs in front of him, unsure whether to accept or decline. “And if you don’t that’s perfectly fine, I’ll just walk back that way and, and you can go that way.” Opening your eyes, you point in two differing directions.

And to your surprise, Bucky breathes out a laugh at your crossed arms. “I, I’d like to get to know you too, Y/n.” He smiles, mentally repeating everything he’s talked about with Doctor Raynor. “I’m no longer the Winter Soldier, my name is James Barnes.” He mutters to himself, aware of your eyes on him as you kick some stones beneath your feet, scuffing the white of your sneakers.

“I’m not a killer anymore. I’m not a monster, nor an agent.” You breathe out, listening to Bucky shifting beside you. “I’m just me,” Looking up, you shyly smile at him as he mirrors your reaction. “just Y/n.”

Holding his hand out, you notice his glove is gone. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

With brief hesitancy, you accept his hand, revelling in the warmth as it weaves through your skin, causing goosebumps to ignite. “It’s lovely to meet you too, James.”

Lowering your hand, you don’t notice that it still remains in his as you both walk through the park. There’s a lot to be uncovered from you both, but maybe, just maybe doing it together won’t be so bad.

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[undercoveravenger]

Closing Cases

Written for my 2021 Halloween event

Pairing: EJ Caswell x Male!Detective!Reader

Prompt: EJ with a Nancy Drew/Scooby gang reader investigating something haunting the school and EJ steps up to help. With “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars” and “Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?”

A/N: This is prompt # 2 for my Halloween event! The next prompt will be posted Thursday, October 7th.

-------

East High was being faced by an unexplainable problem. Each night, lockers were being broken into and various class and club rooms had been found vandalized. The faculty had examined the footage from all of the security cameras near the areas that had been attacked, but weren’t able to see anyone in the videos; only that the halls looked normal in one frame, and had been trashed in the next.

As someone who had spent his entire childhood looking up to all of the great detectives, you took it upon yourself to get to the bottom of the situation. You had told Miss Jen, the theater teacher, that you’d be missing rehearsals one afternoon in order to conduct your investigation, but she had been the only person you told.

You supposed that was why it came as such a shock to find EJ Caswell, a popular senior and star of the water polo team and drama department, leaning against the locker beside yours after school.

You disregarded his presence, moving to open your locker and tuck away your textbooks.

“So I hear you’re not going to be at rehearsals today,” EJ said after a moment, turning to face you. “Care to share why?”

“I’ve got more important things to do,” you said easily. You knew it was kind of a weak response, but it was the first thing that’d come to mind.

He rolled his eyes, lips quirking up into a grin. “Yeah, we both do, I guess.”

That gave you pause. You turned to look at him incredulously, and you had to force yourself to ignore the way the amused glint in his pretty blue eyes threatened to make you smile. “Excuse me?”

“You’re investigating the break-ins, right?” EJ asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you.

“I’m not convinced that they have been break-ins, but yes,” you said, grabbing a different backpack entirely out of your locker and leaving the one with your school supplies in it before shutting the door. “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?” You turned away at that, making your way down the quickly emptying halls.

EJ scrambled to keep pace with you, weaving around the remaining students and faculty to stay at your side. “I want to help! I’ll be the first to say I don’t really have experience with investigations, but I want to help stop what’s going on.”

You let out a sigh, turning abruptly to face EJ. “Fine. You can help,” you held up a hand to interrupt him when he made to let out a victorious whoop, “But if you get in the way of my investigation, I will tell you to leave and you will listen. Do we have a deal?”

The brunet nodded vigorously, falling back into step beside you as you resumed your previous path, “Deal. So,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Where do we start?”

“Here,” you said as you came to a stop outside of a janitor’s closet on the second floor.

EJ’s brows furrowed in obvious confusion. “Our investigation starts at the janitor’s closet?”

You nodded, twisting the door open and entering the small room. You sat down, nestling your way between a set of shelves and several empty garbage cans. “Well, this is where we’ll be waiting until the time is right.”

“And when is that?” he asked as he crept into the closet with you, wincing as the door slammed closed behind him.

You snickered, pulling out your phone to set an alarm. “Well, the thief only strikes at night, right? They’ll probably emerge at around nine o’clock, which means we have,” you glanced back at your phone, “About five hours to kill.”

“Five hours?” EJ asked incredulously, blue eyes wide as he looked at you. “What the hell are we going to do for five hours?!”

“Well, I was going to play games on my phone since I wasn’t planning on having company until a few minutes ago,” you said, glancing pointedly down at the device. “You’re still more than welcome to leave, if you don’t want to wait?”

EJ shook his head stubbornly, shifting to sit with his back against the opposite wall from you. “No, but my phone definitely isn’t going to hold up for that long.” He paused, thinking, “Maybe we could play twenty questions while we wait?”

You shrugged, figuring that humoring a cute boy wouldn’t kill you. “Alright, sure. But since it was your idea, you have to go first.”

He smiled widely, clearly delighted that you’d agreed. “Okay!” He hesitated for a moment while he thought, but a question seemed to strike him pretty quickly. “So, do you make it a point to hang out in sketchy janitor’s closets often?”

You barely managed to bite back a snicker, but the upward tilt of EJ’s lips made you suspect that he knew about your poorly concealed amusement. “I do when my cases require it,” you said by means of explanation, but you found yourself elaborating further at the confused-puppy expression on his face. “Today’s a Tuesday, which means that the cleaning staff isn’t in tonight, so no one will be checking this closet for stragglers like they would the library or a classroom. Waiting in here means that I’ll be able to remain in the building after the doors are locked, which means that I’ll be able to find out if anyone else comes into the building after it’s locked down for the night.”

“Wow,” EJ said, eyes wide as he processed everything you’d just said. “You put a lot more planning into this than I would’ve thought?”

“What, you thought I’d just wing it?” you teased. You had to admit, you were enjoying his company far more than you had anticipated. “I like to think that I take my job pretty seriously.”

He gestured wildly with his hands, like he was trying to wave away his previous words. “No, no, no; that’s not what I meant- I meant that-” He cut himself off as he noticed you beginning to laugh, “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” He faked offense, but the appearance of his dimples gave away his amusement. “Fine, you got me.” His grin widened as he looked at you, “Alright, Mr. Holmes, what’s your leading theory?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, “Currently? Vengeful spirits.”

EJ let out a surprised laugh. It was deep, uncontrollable and infectious, and you were helpless to hide the grin it brought to your face, though it faded after a moment, “You’re serious?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what else to think,” you started softly, fingers twisting nervously in your lap as you were forced to admit that, for once, you really weren’t sure about what the outcome of your case would be. “Any normal person would have been caught on camera, and the only people in this city that have the ability to manipulate the footage to make it look like no one was there either wouldn’t care enough to do it or they’ve got an alibi.”

EJ’s brows furrowed, “And none of them could have lied about the alibis?”

“Mr. Mazzara could’ve, I suppose,” you mused, “But I double-checked it with Miss Jenn and it sounds legit.”

“So ghosts then, huh?” he prompted, scooting a little closer to you until his knees brushed lightly against yours. “Seems like a little bit of a leap in logic.”

You shrugged helplessly, a tired grin forming on your lips, “I am running on two hours of sleep and fifty tiny candy bars. Ghosts weren’t the least probable option, if I’m being honest.”

“How would you even get rid of a ghost-” He stopped as the rest of your statement caught up to him, “Wait, you’ve had fifty candy bars?!”

“Just the little ones.” You said, waving off his concern and checking the time on your phone. “Depends on the type of spirit, but I’ve talked to some sophomores who practice witchcraft and they say that sage and pure intention to banish it should take care of whatever we’re seeing, as long as it’s a normal ghost or spirit. I just want to eliminate any other options before I take action.”

“Can we go five minutes without talking about ghosts, ghouls, or goblins?” EJ demanded, taking your phone from you and setting it aside so he could get you to focus on him, “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself,” he said quietly, normally bright eyes turned stormy with concern, “You’ve got a lot of people that care about you-”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Like who?” At his stunned silence, you pressed on, “Everyone at this school thinks I’m a weirdo. You don’t think I’ve heard people call me Scooby-Doo or Nancy Drew or Sherlock?” You shook your head, pushing yourself to your feet as your frustration mounted, “This was a mistake. I’m leaving; I’ll solve this case on my own.”

“Wait,” EJ exclaimed, shooting up to his feet and grabbing your wrist to stop you from going. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at EJ. “About what part?”

He nodded seriously, eyes locked with yours, “About no one caring about you and about everyone thinking you’re weird.” He took a deep breath, and, for the first time since he’d joined your investigation, you watched his confident facade falter. “I care about you,” he started softly, like he was afraid to finally say it. “And I really like that you’re so passionate about solving mysteries.”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to look back at him, “You… like that?”

“I like you,” he said, so quiet that he was barely audible, but when you didn’t pull away he continued, volume picking up as he did so, “I really like you and I can’t believe I get to help you do something I love, and that probably sounds pretty dumb since we don’t really know each other that well, but I would really like to get to know you better and maybe even take you out to dinner sometime if that’s okay with you?”

It took you a long moment to find your voice again. “Okay,” you found yourself saying as you tugged your wrist from his grip to link your fingers with his instead. “Okay,” A wide smile spread across EJ’s face and you could feel an answering one as it tugged at your lips, “When we close this case, I’ll let you take me on a date.”

“Really?” he asked, like he almost expected you to tell him it was some cruel joke. He let out a breathless laugh when you nodded, “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked joyfully, tugging you towards the door by your joined hands. “We’ve got a case to solve!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you were led out into the long-abandoned halls of East High, glad to have finally found someone who matched you. After all, all the greats came in pairs; Daphne had Fred, Sherlock had Watson, and now you had EJ.

[junicai]

who taught you that?

| order no. | 4/21

| summary | Aria's Korean has improved greatly since stepping off the plane to Korea. But sometimes, the lingo still trips her up - in interesting ways.

| word count | 2.3k

| warnings | Sexual innuendos

| era | circa. January 2017

The cushions had been collected from throughout the dorm; blankets pulled from beds and from the top shelves of wardrobes to amass a large pile in the centre of the living room. The members stood around in varying degrees of formal clothing;

Some still in their clothes that they had worn for the promotion earlier on in the day, and others having stripped and changed into leggings and old shorts and faded t-shirts as soon as they had stepped foot into their home.

Aria had waited for the others to use the bathroom before she had slid in quietly afterwards, knowing that she took the longest in the shower and not wanting to use a large amount of the hot water.

Sure, the spray of water ran a little icy towards the end, but she'd read that it was good for your pores to turn the shower head cold at the end of a haircare routine anyway, so she wasn't complaining.

She'd shuffled her way out of the bathroom and into her room, where she immediately fluffed out the excess water still in her hair, leaving it damp and loose to dry on her shoulders, prior to tugging on a stolen sweatshirt and a pair of cotton shorts that had been retired to sleep status months ago.

The hoodie was warm, and Aria tugged it around her neck to fight the chill of her damp hair, shuffling out into the living room with a blanket fisted in her hand and a pillow tucked underneath her other arm.

"Do you want to just toss that onto the couch, there, and go dry your hair?" Doyoung paced over to Aria, hands taking the bedding from hers already.

"Oh, no, it's okay." Aria shook her head, moving to help him flatten out her blanket onto the carpet. They were building a blanket fort, of a kind.

The movie night had been Taeyong's idea - a bonding experience he said. Donghyuck had jumped at the idea of constructing a fortress of soft and fluffy bedding, and well. No one was going to turn him down.

"You'll catch a chill, go dry your hair." Doyoung reprimanded, gently but firmly tugging the edge of the blanket from her grip.

"My hair dryer is broken," Aria winced.

"Well why didn't you just say that?" He looked up at her briefly, shooing her towards his own room. "Go, you can use mine. I think Jaehyun's in there, maybe he can help."

Aria nodded, mollified, and made her way into Doyoung's room. She passed Taeil in the hallway, who patted her back lightly in greeting. The doorway was cracked open, so she knocked once before tentatively pushing it open.

There, as Doyoung had predicted, was Jaehyun, sitting on his bed and scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up when Aria knocked, and smiled, locking his phone and dropping it into his lap.

"Hey, Akari. What's up?" He asked.

"Uh," Aria wrung her hands in front of her. "Do you know where Doyoung oppa's hairdryer is? He told me I could use it because mine is broken," She trailed off.

"Yeah! Sure, give me a moment." Jaehyun pushed himself off the bed, crouching down in front of the storage unit beside Doyoung's bed and pulling open the bottom drawer. There, beneath several half empty bottles of varying brands of hair conditioner and toning shampoo was the hairdryer, which he pulled out with a flourish.

"There we go. Do you need help or?"

Aria shook her head. "Oh no, it's alright. I'll be out quickly, you can go join them in the living room."

"Yeah, no problem. Don't take too long though, or else I think Donghyuck will pick the movie again, and last time," Jaehyun grimaced. "That didn't end very well."

Aria could remember. Last time, Donghyuck had insisted on watching a new horror film that had recently come out in the cinemas; one that Aria never actually ended up watching in favor of burying her head in Yuta's shoulder, his hands covering her ears as the characters on the screen screamed blue murder.

Hilariously though, Donghyuck hadn't fared much better, despite the movie being his own choice, and the two maknaes ended up sharing a bed for the following three days - unable to sleep alone.

Aria agreed, and as soon as Jaehyun had left the bedroom she plugged in the hairdryer and began running her fingers through her hair to detangle any knots.

She pulled the device away from her head when the air grew too hot for her to handle, and spent a couple seconds trying to figure out how to turn down the heat. After giving up on the endeavor though, Aria just decided to get through it as quickly as possible.

She blew out every strand until it was only slightly damp and no longer dripping with water, and tugged her hair into two plaits on either side of her head.

The hairdryer was pushed back into the bottom drawer of the storage unit, and Aria closed the door into Doyoung's bedroom behind her as she left the room.

Entering back into the kitchen, she realized that Mark, Sicheng and Jaehyun had already claimed their spots on the floor and singular armchair respectively.

Looking over, Taeyong and Doyoung were leaning against the counter with Taeil; Donghyuck emerging from behind the wall to join them.

Aria padded over to the second group, wanting to grab a glass of water prior to settling down for the movie and becoming reluctant to move less she lose her comfortable position.

As she made her way across into the kitchen, she caught the tail end of Donghyuck's whining tirade, his hands clutching onto the back of Doyoung's sweatshirt.

"But hyung, I'm hungry." He pouted, pulling on the material.

"It's late, Hyuck, you'll feel sick if you eat this late."

Donghyuck's pout deepened. "But not if I eat something that isn't sugary."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please!"

Doyoung sighed a long suffering sigh. "Fine."

Donghyuck cheered, squeezing Doyoung in a hug in thanks. "Thank you thank you!"

Doyoung grumbled something about raising him wrong with no manners at all, placated by Taeil's hand rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder.

Taeyong just turned away, hiding his grin into the glass of water he was sipping.

"Hm," Donghyuck pondered, fingers tapping his chin. "What to eat, what to find."

Aria's head popped into the conversation. "Do you want to eat ramen?"

Taeyong choked on his water.

"What!" Donghyuck whipped around, hand landing on his chest.

Aria stumbled back slightly, eyes wide and bewildered. "R-ramen? Ramen noodles? Do you, want to, eat them?" She turned to Taeil. "Am I saying that right?"

"Saying what right?"

"Do you want to eat ramen?" Aria sounded out each syllable carefully, thinking it was an issue with her pronunciation. She was still learning Korean - it has improved greatly, but there were still issues that arose occasionally.

"Don't say it again!"

"What? What am I saying!" Aria spun, looking at the four men who were staring back at her with wide eyes.

Taeyong cleared his throat, having recovered from his coughing fit. "It's just, uh, it's nothing."

Aria's face fell. "I thought my Korean was getting better though.."

Doyoung floundered slightly. "It is! Oh it's a million times better; it's not that, Aria. It's not that at all, it's just that - that - hyung, you explain."

Taeyong fixed Doyoung with an affronted look, "You explain!"

"I'll explain," Taeil held out placating hands. "You're scaring her."

It was true. Aria's head was whipping back and forth between the two, the confused crease between her eyebrows only growing deeper and deeper.

"Aria, the phrase that you used, is, generally used in such a context that would mean you'd like to take the other person home - for the night." Taeil slowly explained.

Aria nodded in tandem. "Like a sleepover?"

Donghyuck smacked his hand to his face, dragging it down. "You asked me if I wanted to sleep with you."

Aria's shriek brought yells from the other boys.

"What!"

"What is it!"

"Who's dead!"

The three boys in the living room received no response other than a red faced Aria bursting in, immediately burrowing herself beneath a mountain of blankets and a cackling Donghyuck following her.

"What's happened?" Mark questioned, wide eyed.

Doyoung entered, trailing a hand down his face with his eyes closed. "Nothing, Mark. Nothing at all."

Mark looked over at the mound of blankets that was currently Aria. "Uh, okay?"

As the conversation faded into background noise, Jaehyun shuffled over to Aria's blanketed form.

"Ari? Are you okay?"

"Fine!" She squeaked.

"Are you sure?"

Aria's head popped out from a gap in the blankets. Her cheeks were still flushed a bright red. "Mhm! Totally fine!"

Jaehyun regarded her suspiciously, looking her up and down. Aria's eyes begged him to drop it, pleading with him not here, not here please, don't bring it up here, and he conceded.

Sitting back onto the couch, he pushed himself into the arm slightly, making room for an extra person to sit beside him without saying a word, and Aria gratefully slid out from her blanket hideout and into his arms.

Jaehyun pulled one of the blankets from the floor up over the both of them as they shuffled about for a moment, finding a comfortable position.

Taeil, who had settled onto a mattress of sorts that had been constructed on the floor with Taeyong and Doyoung resting comfortably on either side, took a look around the room.

"Is everyone ready? Drinks, snacks?" He questioned, knowing the uproar that would occur should someone get up in the middle of the film.

After receiving the general consensus of yeses, he clicked onto the movie, and pressed play.

The opening scene of Train to Busan lit up the television screen, and Aria promptly pulled the blanket back up over her head. She could feel Jaehyun chuckle beside her, and a strong arm encircled her waist to pull her against him tighter.

Aria stayed that way throughout the entirety of the film. Midway through, Yuta's hand found it's way onto her knee, rubbing soothing circles into the skin and Aria's own hand slipped out from underneath the blanket to clasp his hand in her own.

For once, she was glad that Korean wasn't her native language, because it meant that when Yuta began speaking to her in soft, gentle tones, the Japanese drowned out the Korean and made it easier for her to pretend that there wasn't a zombie apocalypse happening on the screen right in front of her.

It felt like an eternity, with Jaehyun's arms tightening around her to warn her of a loud noise before it happened, and Yuta's soft murmurs trying to comfort her.

Eventually, the movie clicked off with a light snick and the living room was plunged into darkness. With the television no longer illuminating the room, the only light source came from the moonlight peeking through the gaps in the blinds; and slowly, the members began to stir.

Sicheng and Yuta stood up, the latter patting Aria's leg once, brushing dust from their legs and bending to snag the pillows they were lying against up to their chests.

Mark slowly rose from the floor, arms raising above his head and he rolled his neck with a crack that reverberated around the room.

Gradually, all the members bar two bid a goodnight and sleepily shuffled their way back to their own beds, bar Donghyuck, who followed Mark into his bed.

The movie might not have been his choice this evening, but that didn't change the fact that he was too prideful for his own good; and that meant watching the film in its entirety, even if it sacrificed two days of restful sleep.

Honestly, she fully expected to find Donghyuck in her own bed tomorrow, or be dragged into his.

Aria, still encircled in Jaehyun's arms, was reluctant to move. Here, she was warm, and comfortable, and her bed was most definitely cold, and she'd have to move around all her bedding to find a comfortable position.

Dithering over her options, she was taken by surprise when Jaehyun tightened his grip on her waist slightly, rolling over to position her more comfortably and safely away from the edge of the couch.

"Jae?" Aria whispered when he didn't let go. "Shouldn't we go to bed? It's pretty late."

"M'no." He mumbled. "I'm tired, let's just sleep here."

"Oh," Aria thought about it for a moment. Was this what her manager meant when she said that Aria would bond with the boys eventually?

"Yeah, yeah okay. Let's sleep here."

Aria ran a hand over Jaehyun's hair once, before snuggling back down into his warm embrace.

[yostresswritinggirl]

The One The Bard Once Loved

NEW Vibe check (appropriate song to cry to while reading)

"The bard, the sprite, the archer. The trio of young dreamers that wish to witness the blue skies past the raging winds that lock their freedom. But those are more than mere dreams, for it requires the sacrifice of those you love, to grace the courage to fight a God. And Barbatos, poor Barbatos, sacrificed more than he wanted."

Pairings -> Venti x Fem!Reader x Bard (Gale)

Word Count -> 4,337

Theme -> Angst, Backstory, Long Fic

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Spoilers to Venti's story, character death

"Oh little sprite, from whence beyond

Does thou reminiscent of a vagabond?

Curious to which it whisks upon

Trapped now in desolate, forlorn"

Venti the wind sprite had always been curious, the single whisk of air that always goes the opposite way, hanging behind from his fellow currents to be distracted by a curious thing. So it was no surprise to anyone that he had gone lost once more in their rounds swaying but when he'd not return, long ago has his current passed the nation of Mond. Yet there was no way he can fly by his family of winds, for he finds himself trapped within the walls of a grazing storm that cages the stone walls of the city, of winds that he could not control nor agitate.

No matter how hard he tries the wind does not part, and so little Venti was stuck inside brooding skies and angry blasts. No mere sprite can go against the mighty strength of an archon.

So he resigns to his fate and wanders in this new place. Of a city wide and barren, why dare the Decarabian hide such dwelling? And even with the raging howls of the walls of wind, Venti couldn't help but wonder the silence it traps within.

A tiny ball of white in an expanse of gray. The thought scares the little sprite enough to make him scurry for the smallest bit of sound he can decipher. The loneliness creeps into his core—

And his little body bumps into that of a soft material. "Oh! Goodness, one should not run off without looking like that-" the figure turns and finds itself face to face with a floating blob, deep blue eyes wide and mouth hangs with wonder. Venti recognizes this creature in one of his endeavors as the wind, a human being, the true wanderers of Teyvat. Yet what is one doing trapped? "Such a peculiar being! What could you be?"

Yet it is not frightened by Venti's rarity, well, given he is not the most frightening wonder in this continent this was no surprise.

The sprite did not mind being found out. No, no, quite the opposite honestly, as he flies closer to the young boy and hides in his upturned hood. Nuzzling against the junction in his neck as he expresses gratitude in the company and presence of another in this desolate world.

The young boy chuckles and it reminds him of a song. "Perhaps you do not understand what I spoke?" The sprite shakes its head and the ticklish spot is tickled again. "Or do you not know how to speak?" A nod. And another giggle.

Without another word, the human slips back into the alleys of winding yet thin roads before making his way inside what looks to be a cathedral of tall composition. Glass windows of the same length tinted in kaleidoscopic patterns of color. There is a light in them you would usually bask in during the 'outside world', but in here it replicates that of an oasies in the deserts of Sumeru.

Underneath the artificial haze it beams a seeming spotlight at a figure clad in a dark ebony cloak. Venti felt the vibrations of an elated gasp as the human rushed over with a smile and frantic waving.

"My fair muse, how you've brighten my day, bestowing your presence tonight!"

The cloak tenses before immediately relaxing, the 'muse' he speaks of turns with its loose hood falling as it bundled around the shoulders, and Venti the sprite couldn't help but gasp too at the sight!

Fair is lacking, no words can describe the essence of bloom and beauty at the beholder as you stood there almost sparkling, hair catching the twinkle of light. Your plum lips caught itself smiling yet your eyes twinkled double the amusement at the sight of the human before you, "Gale." You murmured with an undertone of annoyance as you trudged over, flicking the boy's forehead so suddenly he'd voiced his hurt loudly. "Where have you been?! You've never been late to our daily rendezvous, you had me worried-!"

"Oh, such a cutie when you worry!" The young boy, Gale, cupped your cheeks in the middle of your spiel as he softly pats it with his fingers. Venti had never seen such creature change colors as fast as you, not even a chameleon, or an octopus in hiding. "I've simply found a new companion while I was out and about!"

As if a spotlight was caught unto him this time, your blown eyes wandered to the sprite floating by your company's neck. And oddly he'd found the attention appreciated.

"Who is this? An elf?"

"Venti!" There was a distant jingle of imaginary bells in his squeak of a voice.

"It/You can talk?!"

(Y/N) Lawrence.

Gale the Bard.

Venti the El- Wind Sprite.

Gale was a bard that resides in the cathedral of Mondstadt, homeless and without blood and kin, the nuns had took him in and lead their choir in turn for their hospitality.

You, on the other hand, lived with a clan of hunters that once ruled the mountains and forests. But with the emergence of the inescapable walls of wind, your family had been on the forefront of the protection of the citizens.

There were a lot of struggles in communication between you two and the lil sprite. He only knows his name and how to copy words (not so fluently) so questions had to be foregone, teaching the little one took priority. And Gale being the weaver of words took it upon himself to teach him frequently as you had your duties and family to go to.

Venti would sometimes disappear for a majority of the time and you'd figured he finally found a way to pass through the winds without shredding himself among the blades of current. And then he'd pop back in to listen to the merry tunes Gale had come up with, both of them waiting for your return.

"Ah Venti, is she not a beauty? The youngest daughter of Lawrence, as divine as that of incense. Oh tell me those dotted eyes could see it too!" The little sprite eagerly nods as he follows the bard's stride across the aisles in the holy cathedral, once again barren of other souls except for them. Whenever his human friend finds time to muse, it would be most about the maiden he fancies, the muse of most of his songs. Venti had been captured by his delicate tunes and savory lines to the point that he too had been overly enticed by your grace when your presence shines.

Your strength, your smile, your laugh, your hair. Your gait, your poise, your eyes, your glare. You had caught their stares dozens of times in silence before and it was always up to you to put them back to present time.

Venti simply basked in your warming aura and indulges himself outwardly, often you'd find him dozing off on the crown of your head. And often times you'd find a little pout on Gale at such a sight that you had no choice but to tease. In those moments, the wind sprite knew he had come out triumphant.

The cathedral doors open as quickly as they had closed, your windswept and frantic form appearing from the storm outside. The two boys in your life immediately lit up on your appearance but you'd know most of it was directed at the numerous scrolls and books you currently cradle in your shivering arms.

You offered them a grin, one of victory, and you'd all cheered at your success.

Soon, your merry trio made its way to the second floor of the cathedral in front of a faraway hallway that looks over the vast floor of the first yet still had the glow from the looming illuminated glass windows. Beholden in front of you are illustrations of a world beyond, filled with colors and shine, a world you had only imagined from stories now pictured perfectly.

Venti would hover over the illustrations at random intervals and giddily point at some of those he recognized, squeaking incoherent noises yet reflecting happiness and familiarity. While you fancied with indulging the sprite in his incomprehensible stories, Gale sat beside you with adoring yet distant eyes upon the images laid before him. Looking through them, and projecting himself in such a world. The books of the outside world you'd stolen from your clan's sacred libraries will be the start of a spark of desire to be free. And with it the start of a new era.

"The true sky, and songs that cageless soar...

Were they not wishes worth fighting for?"

Long had you gone and abandoned your stolen goods for them to admire more, at least until the day your clan finally realized the missing materials in the vast expanse of the bookshelves they own. There was more to marvel at yet you feared if you linger longer, your sister would look for you and find your little crime all too soon.

Venti quietly watches the familiar illustration of a beach littered with creatures of the sea on its glittering sand before he'd lift his tiny head up, witnessing the intense stare his bard friend had on the scroll where lies an overgrown tree and a stone structure. The sprite noted he had not seen this one.

"How marvelous it would be, to celebrate the most joyous moments under this tree," Gale mumbled in a quiet lilt of longing in his voice, "Imagine (Y/N) and I, with you by my side, as I finally pluck the courage to get down on one knee." Venti bumbled in slight jealousy, buzzing in front of the bard that could only cast a laugh. "Oh hush, dear friend, is it not appropriate to take an arrow to the knee for an archer such as she?"

Yet even with his desire to be by your side, the little sprite knew that he would be there to support his friend for the happiness you two deserved. In a land where you are free. Still, Venti hopes his cuteness would be enough to prolong you just a little bit more.

Drunk in passion and dreams, the next day the bard was scheming. And when you'd come to his cathedral of a home, he finally poured out his plans to you with a Venti quipping with cheers on the side.

The Mondstadtian had predicted your hesitance, even your disapproval on the notion, and were ready to chip in to persuade you once more— yet you gave in. Immediately. The same fire burned in your eyes at the thought of being unshackled and caged from the world begging to be explored. Your sentiments together with the bard fueled the desire between you three, and through the brainpower of a trio of young minds, you had drawn your plans.

Gale aided by Venti would try and coerce with the Ragnvindr clan's leader, and you would work on convincing your eldest sister Amos for the help needed to coerce the whole Lawrence bloodline into the battle. You knew there was an undeniable hatred within her against Decarabian and you wanted her to fuel that fire once and for all, for one great cause.

And soon enough, the strings of fate had come into play, and the one who shall record this momentous history has taken its seat by the balcony of war. Only the last piece of the puzzle is left in this grandoise play—

"Gale, Venti, are you sure this is the right direction to the hideout? We're taking a route longer than usual, surely you're not making last minute pranks..."

Your bow smacks at your back as you made your way inside the dark closet. It was two cycles before the fated ambush would come and in your nerves you had not realized how amiss things had been for the others. You were more than ready even if your fingers were to tremble everytime it holds your bow and arrow, predictions of the war that shall come floats within the expanse of your mind.

In your limited vision, your bard friend and sprite shared a look that did not pass by you. The tension had only caused you to gulp in your nervousness, were you found out? Did the participants of the revolt suddenly back down? "There has been a change of plans, but worry not for history still pans. My Muse, it is best you stay to assure you will not be caught in the storm's disarray-"

A hand flew across the bard's pristine white skin and his dark ocean hues could not help but widen. Is he... telling you to not participate in the war?! What kind of— a sob left through your gritted teeth despite your best efforts, and you're not sure who was more broken between your friends upon the sight. "How could you, even think- Gale, you carry no arms but a lyre! And Venti still has no means to go against the Archon that controls the winds! What kind of absurd idea is this?!" In the middle of your rage, your friends had already wrapped you in their sentimental hug, expressing their own misery with free-flowing tears." I'm supposed to protect you... t-the three of us were supposed to lead the path of freedom..."

"You've always protected us, (Y/N). Now would be the best time... to return the favor," and as your friend stepped back to give a parting smile, your whole world suddenly engulfed in black as the door shut with a slam and a final lock.

"Gale! Venti! No, please no! Let me out! Don't do this, PLEASE!"

"Please hear us out, our dear (Y/N)," Gale leaned his forehead against the thick door that separates you two, shedding the last bit of tears he could muster before the end of an era. The desperation in your every bang against it, breaks apart a hole in his own heart, "For your own good, and your own future."

When Gale described love to the little Venti, the latter was certain that he felt the same way for you. Yet the human ever so jokingly laughed at how he was still too young to fully understand the implications of such words. But he desired just as much to protect you, to be by your side, and to see your smile. But the human was right for he did not truly understand the reasons WHY he felt like so...

So he asked instead, dear friend Gale of Tales, why have you come to cherish this human in devotion? And quite so the other was happy to indulge!

"It starts with young Mondstadt when the walls were young and the people still knew the tales and what they sang. I was a poor little bard with a broken lyre, when living alone was nothing but dire.

Without a home, without a bed, I was ready to starve to death. But an angel clad in white suddenly lead me to bright light. My muse had brought to me a cathedral, yes the one we are in now! And since then I've lived a proper choir life, always wondering how...

just how things would be without (Y/N), my angel? Continuing to live in the dark alleys, would I have been able? Even now I have yet to repay her act of kindness. But one day, for sure... " Perhaps, this act the young boy now follows, was the payment he had been waiting for.

How long you had stayed there, you had no clue but by the sounds of war cries and clashing steel had told you enough. You'd been there for too long.

Blessed with some luck that a crowbar had found its way in this janitor closet in a cathedral no less, you had immediately set out to join the battle: beyond the holy doors flames had lit up from the torches the revolt has carried, many bodies lay by the stone grounds of the city, some moving and struggling while some... you spare them not a second thought as you rushed past the stone pillars to where the heat of the war should be. If the battle plan had gone as it should then—

A hand gripped your arm with such force it had you cry out before you even registered you were being slammed to the floor. A shadow of a knight that serves the God of Storm looms over you with a glare blazing past his helmet. "You're one of them, I recognize that face! You're not winning today-" yet another blade suddenly pierced through his chest, and your shirt had been splattered when it was pulled. The now lifeless body falls past you and another replaces him.

"Sir Ragnvindr!" The knight shared the same shock and relief you wore before it steeled, immediately pulling you up and away from the on-going exchanges of blows. "Everyone- how's the war looking?"

"Men had fallen from the green-tipped arrows, but we are making progress," the redhead gestured to the tower where the greatest enemy lies, taking note of the cracks and crumbling structure, a sign of his coming doom. A very good sign. "Amos took it upon herself to climb the tower-"

"What?! That's beyond the plan, she- she could get herself killed!" You brought your own bow from your back at the mention of your sister archer, bringing the strings back with an arrow at the ready, your intention clear. The redhead had shown a glint of worry but his gaze had been resolved once again at the hope of freedom, and he leaves you to your chase as he fends off the guards that dare go after you.

You expertly evaded blows and parried kicks with your bow and arrow, yet no sign of the heads of the resistance had caught your sight. The longer you climbed, the more you feared for the worst. By 2/3 of the tower you had scaled you managed to poke your head out to see the scale of war. Of red and orange floated below as the razor winds felt more violent than it had been ever since you had been born within its impenetrable walls, even from this distance high up you could still hear the clash, the warmongers held up in the central square where all battles now takes place.

And within that chaos you managed to single out a lump of black and a dot of floating white. Miraculously, your scream had reached their faraway ears and looked up, just in time to see your aerial shots of support.

"(Y/N)?! What is she-!" His words had been cut with an arrow wheezed past his head to bring down a foe that had sneaked behind him. Right, battle. Many of the immediate threats had been neutralized and the resistance had found the upper ground thanks to the archer's barrage. "How-how is she up there!"

Another body had fallen next to him with a cut on its back, a certain knight rushing past him to hit another. "Watch your back, bard! Now's not the time to monologue, she's going to backup Amos."

You were too far to hear the horrified gasp and the fearful expression your two faithful friends adorned. But the ground you were on began to shake, and you know you had to go on. "Venti! Gale! Focus, I'll be there with you two soon!" You screamed at the top of your lungs in hopes that it will reach them before continuing your ascent to the most treacherous area you had to be in—

You barelled towards the woman with silver hair with a pace you've never seen and a strength you'd never thought you carried, exchanging the shot you felt lodge into your left side as you sent one right through the guard's neck. You fell on your bottom and clutched the wounded area, but kept it there, if not to make sure the blood does not pour if you were to take it out.

"Sister!" The familiar voice cradled you as gently as she could with a fear-stricken face. But you assured her that it had not hit anything major, the way her worry didn't dissipate seem to hide a kind of anguish she couldn't name. "We must get you to safety, the clerics- the clerics could-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you grunted as you pried yourself out of her grasp to prove your point, still able to keep your stance. You see Amos struggle from fatigue yet about to bite back, "We're so close, sister, any moment we linger is another body on the list of deaths." Painfully she'd bitten on her own tongue, finally relenting as you ascended the last few steps.

Normal arrows are nothing but toothpicks against the mighty God of Storms, the Anemo Archon, who easily flicked your futile attempts to graze him. And yet Decarabian was losing power just from fighting off not only your barrages but those even from below. His walls were thinning and his heart crumbles, from the thought of his once devoted followers turning back on him.

With one last strength the Lawrences gathered every piece of energy and power they could into their shot, and Decarabian looked at them with tired eyes and a raised hand. "Finally, I shall hold his gaze." The voice next to you spoke before your charged shot, swirling with beaming light flew past the sharp gale of wind and pierced through the God's core. Your ears had picked up on a violent crack before you were hit by the razor breeze upon the dying breath of the archon, sending you and Amos off the crumbling tower to free fall to your deaths.

In the edge of your peripherals the bleak gray walls of storms dissolved into rays of natural light, giving way to a hue of blue you had never seen before. As the wind wheezed past your ears, you smiled at the face of death—

When a jingle of little bells suddenly slowed your descension, and you were softly met with the hard floor on your back. With tired eyes you'd found yourself next to the pioneers of freedom, conscious and unconscious. You had felt Venti nudge your hand to those of another's limp ones, soft palms yet calloused fingers, you intertwined your hands with that of the bard's.

"We did it, we finally... did it..." A pulling force drains the consciousness from your mind and body in laboured breaths, and despite your protests to keep staring at the beautiful sight of the true sky, your eyelids were pulled shut by an unknown exhaustion.

Past their closed state, a flash of light was the last thing you had thought. Bruised and beaten, your warm hand did not register how the ones you clung to... did not squeeze back.

...

The next time (e/c) orbs flew open their eyes the world felt that of a lucid dream, with silk of the cleanest white donned their body, and the softest breeze of a sweet flower you had not smelt passes by you. Teal orbs looked down at you with a gentleness you've felt from the artificial light from the cathedral. Speaking of- your eyes unfocused shifted its gaze to the light blue skies.

"You're... awake." Your bard friend breathed out in disbelief and another emotion your brain can't quite place. The cotton of clouds float above in painted beauty, and you had pried your sight away from it almost painfully just to spare your companion a look.

"It's..." your throat grated and ached at the attempt, coming out so weak and breathless, "It's very beautiful... out here, free... Have- have you gone to explore?" Your face twisted in numbing pain from talking, and the bard started to quiver yet stood strong with a smile.

"I had, it's - it's just like how we imagined, even better than we've taken for granted," wet spots adorned your cheeks in short successions, you couldn't help but smile. "I only wish you were there to see it first hand, the flowers, the sunsets, the land-"

"Yet I fell asleep," you laughed in mirth yet there was no sound that escaped. The grip around you tightens as you loll your head to the side; there lays a new city kissed by the huge orb of light in the blue veil of a sky, lush green grass of health you've never seen before shone with a moistness on it, and around its glory lays a beauty of a moat that mirrors the one above. Beautiful, you whispered under your long-awaited breathe.

"The people of Mond had done their best to rebuild, for the promise of freedom they had not wilt," a hand on your cheek, flawless, urged your gaze once more to lay upon the bard. "We've devised a festival to celebrate named Ludi Harpastum. Tell me... my muse, will you accompany me in this new custom?"

A new breeze had lulled you in your ears once again to sleep, and a flash of fear had passed over your companion's features before it dissipated when you opened your eyes once more. A festival, you haven't heard that in years, "I would love to. But maybe... tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow."

"Mhm, I feel tired... the sun invites me to sleep, will you wait for me tomorrow?"

"T-Tomorrow."

"Good." Your eyes were covered by darkness again as you felt a pressure against your forehead. "It's... a date..." And your tired heart finally found peace, after battling for 15 days restlessly, desperately.

Venti picked you up from where you laid on his lap, setting you down on the grass bed besides the giant roots of the Windrise tree. Nearest your left, a stone plate carved with words you never dare see lies next to you. And for the first time in fifteen days, a God cries again.

¹The green-tipped arrows were coated with poison.

²Reader's bow is designed after the Raven's Bow.

³Gale is not the bard's official name but was used to avoid too many confusion.

⁴This had a different, more painful and hatred alternate ending where you hated Venti for taking Gale's form, but I changed it so I could rest my own heart.

*in honor of your contribution to Mondstadt's freedom, the maiden who throws the Harpastum is made for your grace.

@boxofteenageideas @creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[tloujm]

Part XXVII: Captive

Author’s Notes: N/A

Genre: Angst

Summary: Joel and the rest of his patrol group find themselves in danger. You become emotional after receiving some startling results.

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Joel leaned forward against the counter as he wrote his entry into the log book. There wasn’t much to say. The little log cabin that acted as their first checkpoint was clear of any danger and showed no signs of tampering since the last entry. He closed the book and looked back at his two patrol partners. Marcus and Glen were resting in their respective spots. Joel figured it was time for him to do the same when he saw a shadow pass in front of one of the living room windows. His brows furrowed as his focus heightened. It could have been a number of things that he saw. Glen noticed his hardened demeanor and asked what was wrong. All Joel did in response was put one finger over his lips and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the handle of his pistol.

One of the floorboards that made up the porch creaked. The sound went away just as quickly as it appeared as if a competent being had known they made a mistake and removed their foot from it. It was at this point, Joel knew it wasn’t just some lost deer roaming around the premises. The other men followed suit and aimed their guns at the entry points. The air was very still save from the dust particles that floated in ray of sunlight across the living room. It was also eerily quiet. The three of them exchanged quick glances. Joel was about to walk up to the door when it swung open from the outside. A small group of men rushed in and immediately opened fire. 

Joel ducked and crawled over to the kitchen. He flipped the table over to use it as a shield. His thoughts immediately settled on the safety of his partners before he peeked his head out to see where everyone was. Marcus was hiding behind the couch. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he stuck his hand out to shoot blindly at the attackers. Joel popped up from behind the table to shoot them. A bullet hit one of the men’s shoulder while another managed to hit another in the cheek, rendering him useless. He ducked back behind his makeshift shield a split second before a bullet could graze him. 

The attackers were currently distracted by Marcus shooting at them again. Joel took this opportunity to crawl away and find another place for cover to catch them at a different angle. As soon as he peeked his head around the other side of the table, he saw a pool of fresh blood. His eyes followed it to the source to reveal Glen laying on the floor. His eyes stared blankly out at the wall in front of where his body laid. Joel quickly took cover behind the table again and gathered himself for a second before making a run for it. 

With a rush of adrenaline, Joel shot at the attackers which inadvertently covered Marcus as he ran to another place of cover. He managed to wound them, but not kill any. They took cover behind the same couch Marcus used. During the few moments of stalemate, he noticed that only two took cover and if he killed one early, then that left one more…Joel’s vision suddenly went black a split second after a sharp pain shot through his head.

A pounding ache tormented Joel’s entire head. His vision first came back blurry then all at once clear. He pushed himself up from the cold cement floor into a sitting position. He noticed that it was significantly colder than before as he instinctively shivered. Large hunks of meat hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. His legs almost felt foreign under his weight as he got up. The sound of metal hitting something hard echoed into the room he was in. Following the source of the sound, he accidentally bumped into one of the hunks. As it swayed back and forth on the hook, Joel noticed features familiar to him. His eyes darted from the hair around the belly button to the nipples at the top. They widened in realization that the hunks of meat were human torsos and that the men who attacked him were cannibals. 

A loud chop brought his attention back, leading him to cautiously follow the sound again. Quietly, he picked up a lead pipe off of a shelf on his way. He came to a halt at the doorway. A strange man’s back was to Joel as he hovered over a naked body on the table. One of the legs was already detached and pushed aside, almost falling off the table. The cannibal lifted his hand with the cleaver to do the same with the other leg when Joel ran up to him and pressed the pipe against his throat from behind. He gagged as the knife fell out of his hand. Joel applied more pressure against his windpipe as he brought his arms into his chest. His eyes flashed over to the bloody body on the table. If it wasn’t for the cannibal leaving the head on, he wouldn't have recognized him as his patrol partner, Marcus. Just like Glen, his eyes looked blankly on. They focused on a spot beyond Joel. 

He released the pipe from its position against his throat and let him drop to the floor. Rage overtook him as he instead swung the pipe against his head. He kept at it until he was sure that he was dead. Even then, he wanted to add a couple more swings, but he knew that he wasn’t the only one he’d have to fight to get out of there. It wasn’t worth getting caught or spending extra energy on if he stayed to beat his head into a pulp. Hesitantly, he approached the dismembered body on the table and closed his partner’s eyelids before moving on to the next room. 

******

Your foot tapped against the floor almost uncontrollably as you waited. You let your head fall into your hands as to avoid staring down at the stick on the counter. The sound of the door swinging open caused you to pop your head up to find Ellie on the other side of the bathroom. 

“Uh, sorry. I forgot to knock.” She said in a low tone. It looked like she needed to pee, so you swiftly ushered her in and closed the door behind you. As the door clicked, you forgot to take the stick with you. Pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door, you listened as she flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet. Surely she saw it just sitting there. You only stopped when she opened the door again. She stood there in front of you silently for a few moments. “Is that yours?” Her head nodded in the direction of the counter. 

“Mmhmm.” You hummed and nodded. “Is it ready?”

Ellie turned and hovered over the stick. “Does two lines mean it’s ready?”

“Oh my God.” You whispered. “Fuck.” You began repeating the expletive before sitting back down on the edge of the tub. 

You grabbed the stick to double check for yourself and there it was, two very distinct lines. If one line was faded, you would try to convince the nurse to administer you another test, but this seemed pretty definitive. You didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted this, but you still couldn’t help the nerves that flared up across your body. Guilt began to rise as you regretted not waiting for Joel to do this with. He would know how to feel. You continued to sit there, imagining him sitting on the edge of the tub with you. He’d take the test from your hands and double check the instructions from the box before smiling. You would imagine him engulfing you in a hug, tucking his head in your neck and mumbling some words of joy that you couldn’t quite discern. 

Though the daydream offered a sense of comfort, you were snapped out of it when a real pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle. You looked down and saw Ellie sitting next to you on the edge of the tub. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Her presence, while an accidental invasion of privacy, was welcomed. You repositioned yourself in her arms to hug her back. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to curse in front of you.” You whispered into her hair.

“I’ve heard worse.” She replied with a playful tone in her voice.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Mmhmm.” She hummed lightly.

“That this stays between us.” You wipe a tear away. “I have to talk to Joel and then the doctor.”

“Who am I going to tell?” She said, referencing the fact that you’d never seen her converse with anyone else since she first spoke in front of you and Joel. 

*******

“Hey, Tommy, give me a hand with this.” A resident of Jackson yelled out. Your head whipped around in his direction. You’d been looking for Tommy all day. The resident was sitting down near the stables trying to get a horseshoe off a huff. Tommy stepped out of the shelter and came into your view.

“Tommy, hey! I hope you’re not busy now. I’ve been looking for you actually.” You said when you got closer to them.

He bent down to get a closer look at the huff. “I always have time for you; you’re family. Now what’s wrong?”

“Well, Joel and ‘em aren’t back yet from their patrol. They were scheduled to be back two days ago. I know sometimes things happen that delay their travels---”

“Exactly.” He finally pulled the horseshoe off and tossed it into the dirt. “Any number of things could have happened out there that caused them to veer off plan. Those three are some of our most experienced patrolmen. We both know firsthand what Joel is capable of.” He noticed that his words were not easing the worry written across your face. “Did you know that I spent five extra days out on one of my patrols. It was the toughest route I ever did, but every decision we made as a group was for the betterment of our survival even if it meant staying out there a little longer. Five days really isn’t normal though. I’ll tell you what, I’ll get on the walkie and ask our scavenging group to see if they see any signs of them heading back. They should still be close enough to catch Jackson’s frequency. Their route is right next to Joel’s; it should be no problem for them.”

“And what if they don’t see any signs?”

“You know what our emergency policy is. We send out a search and rescue crew if the original group is not back within six days.”

“Does that not seem like it’s too long to you?” You asked.

“Like I said, especially on longer routes, they can be delayed for a number of reasons. I know it's not what you want to hear, but we’ve wasted resources and lost lives in the past to premature rescue missions.”

“Tommy, that’s your brother! Wouldn’t you want him to go out looking for you if you were out there possibly in trouble?” You said frustratingly.

“I know he would go out and look for me when it was time. Everybody who is cleared to patrol knows what the emergency rescue policy is. They were trained for situations like this just as you were. I’m sorry.” Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder as he tried to find compliance in your eyes. “I left my radio in the stable. I’ll go and try to contact the scavenging group now. Hopefully they are still in range.” You nodded before he walked off.

[ikeromantic]

Old Friends, New Adventures

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - this scene occurs post-Romantic epilogue. Approx. 2200 words of fluff and stuff.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: My Home is Your Home

Mitsuhide was expecting to see Sarutobi. Afterall, he had invited the ninja and arranged the trip to align with the . . . worm hole. Instead, it was Ranmaru waiting for them downstairs. His wide smile and bright gaze made the warlord suspicious. He watched through narrowed eyes as his fiance bounded down the stairs and threw her arms around Ranmaru in greeting.

“It’s good to see you! Is everything ok?” She let go to look him in the face.

Ranmaru laughed. “I was about to say the same thing!” He took her hands. “I just had to come say hi when I realized this was where -” his gaze shifted to Mitsuhide. “Akechi ran off with you to.”

“We didn’t run off!” She pulled her hands out of his grip, clearly remembering Mitsuhide’s advice. “Anyway, I thought you were staying in Azuchi. Did you come all the way here to visit me?”

“Yes, why are you here,” Mitsuhide added.

Ranmaru took them both in with his wide, guileless eyes. “Oh! I suppose you left before Nobunaga announced it! I am taking a message to Kyoto for him.” He leaned forward and whispered theatrically. “It’s top secret.”

Mitsuhide did not believe the page. There were countless messengers for most letters and for important correspondence, there was no way Nobunaga would entrust that to Ranmaru. He needed to see this letter. With his crescent moon smile in place, the kitsune replied. “In that case, I must offer you my hospitality tonight. I’ll have a guest room set up for you.”

He expected Ranmaru to argue, and had already prepared several potential counter-arguments. None of them were needed. The page bowed. “Thanks, Mitsuhide! That’s really nice of you!”

His reaction almost made the warlord second guess himself. Was this what Ranmaru wanted all along? And if so, why? But he couldn’t ask. He just smiled and nodded to his castle staff. They would know what room to put the page in. It had thick walls and no windows. A secure door that could slide into place from the outside, turning the room into a cell. Mitsuhide would have answers from the page one way or another.

“Would you like to join us, Ranmaru? We’re going to visit the town and then have dinner here at the castle.” The chatelaine glanced at Mitsuhide to make sure this was alright.

“No, no. I’ll just head up to my room for a nap. I ran all the way here and I’m pretty tired.” The page wrinkled his nose. “I know you two want some alone time, anyway. But maybe we can have dinner together before I leave. That would be nice.”

Mitsuhide’s smile widened. Miyake could keep tabs on Ranmaru and maybe that would reveal all he needed to know. They said their goodbyes and left the page in good hands.

Outside the castle, the wind picked up. On the horizon, grey storm clouds billowed and boiled. There was a charge in the afternoon air that set teeth on edge. Even grown men looked askance at the shadows under trees and the darkness between close-packed buildings. It felt like the town was waiting for something.

The chatelaine noticed the brewing storm and frowned. “Do you think we’ll get rained on?”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “If a storm blows through while we are out, we can stop in a shop until it passes. This isn’t the season for heavy rains.” Still, he felt the strange currents in the cool breeze. His hand settled on his sword hilt and for just a moment, he thought of bringing the tanegashima. But this was not a battlefield and he was confident he could handle whatever came.

Many of the town’s residents still remembered the battle at Enryaku-ji, and they regarded their new lord with a wary respect. It was obvious in the way their gaze skittered to the side. How they answered every question with care. His little mouse noticed.

Her smiles were gentle and her compliments many. Mitsuhide could not help but be impressed at the way she set people at ease in her presence. She would make an excellent partner, he thought. One that could balance his strength and weakness. He didn’t notice the proud smile that turned his lips up or the warmth in his eyes as he watched her.

It was early evening when the sullen sky began to loose fat, wet rain drops. They fell in a slow but steady patter, creating little streams down the sides of buildings. The street sellers packed up their wares and people ducked into homes and shops to wait out the storm. Mitsuhide and his little one tucked themselves under the eaves of a closed shop.

“Do you want to stop by the inn for some warm sake before we go home?” Mitsuhide had to lean close to be heard over the rain on the rooftop.

She smiled and nodded. “Just one for me though. I can’t drink like you do.”

Mitsuhide grinned, wondering what she would say if she knew he didn’t drink as much as he seemed to. A man needed to have some secrets though. He grasped her hand and together they ran out under the rain, across the street and down two doors to the building with bright lanterns and music.

The inn here was always busy. It was a waystation for merchants between Kyoto and Azuchi. A natural place to stop and rest. Today was no exception. With the storm outside, the inn’s benches were packed from one side to the other. Mostly with merchants and their guards. A few townspeople, and some of the evening ladies who walked between tables looking for the most advantageous company.

One of the servers recognized Mitsuhide as they walked in, and hurried over. In moments, they were seated in a private room, hidden from the common area by deftly painted screens. Another server arrived with a tray of warm sake and onigiri.

“For you, my lord.” Both servers bowed low. It seemed they remembered his comment last time about preferring easy to eat foods.

“My betrothed would like -” Mitsuhide began, but she shook her head.

“No, this is fine. I’m not that hungry right now.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow but nodded agreeably. “Thank you. You may go.”

Both men ducked out quickly, as if afraid the kitsune warlord might change his mind.

“They really seem afraid of you,” the chatelaine frowned after them. “I wish they knew how good and kind you really are.”

“Don’t go ruining my reputation, little mouse. I worked hard on it.” Mitsuhide laughed, but he was only half joking. “Let them see you as the kind and gentle Akechi, and continue to believe I am the monster.”

“But-”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “It is what must be. For now, at least.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue but after a moment, she smiled. “Alright. I know it is necessary, but I will look forward to the day I can introduce the Mitsuhide I know to all of them.”

He felt his cheeks heat at her sweet words and the look of adoration she wore. It never ceased to amaze him how precious she could be. To hide his unwieldy emotions, he turned his head to look at the screens. “Are you going to pour the sake or keep chattering away, little mouse?”

“Ooh that got to you,” she giggled. “I can see red in your cheeks!”

“You had best pour me a drink before I decide to return the favor,” he murmured. His tone had turned more husky than brusque. He hated the way she made him reveal his heart to her. It was impossible to hide from her.

“Alright, alright.”

Mitsuhide felt her move, heard the delicate clink of porcelain. He tried to focus on details to calm the fast beat of his heart and the warmth in his face. It wasn’t working very well. All he could think of was getting his love back to their room in the castle and peeling every stitch of fabric from her. With his teeth.

“You know, Nobunaga asked me once to serve him sake from my lips . . .”

Wide-eyed, Mitsuhide’s head snapped around to look at her. She was holding his sake cup in her hands. While he watched, she put it to her mouth and tipped it just enough to leave a trace of wine on her lips.

It was too much. First the sweetness and now this bold flirtation. Mitsuhide pulled her to him and kissed her. The rice wine blended with the taste of her, a heady alcohol to the drunkenness of his love.

She was vibrant and alive against him, her body warm, her hands caressing his back. Her lips moved against his, savoring the kiss. A breathy moan lost itself between them.

Mitsuhide might have done more, had they not been interrupted. Again. An embarrassed cough from a silhouette behind the painted screen. He broke their kiss reluctantly and turned his head to face the door. “Yes?”

Miyake poked his head in, cheeks stained red, eyes bright with held laughter. “Ehm. Sorry to interrupt your . . drink.”

“I assume this is an emergency?” The warlord’s tone was not amused.

“Maybe?” Miyake shrugged. “The page disappeared from his room. He is not in the castle and no one has seen him in the town. I have some men out looking for him. In fact, I’m on my way to join them. But I wanted to bring you this - in case it’s important.” He held out an envelope.

Mitushide took it. His expression remained one of calm annoyance, but inside he was a tumult of emotion. Worry for his little one, concern for the Oda forces, and even for Ranmaru. It was hard to play the traitor, harder still to be one. The envelope was sealed and on the front, it was addressed to the chatelaine.

She looked at it curiously. “Why do you suppose Ranmaru ran off? You think he’s in such a big hurry? And why did he leave me a letter? He could have just said goodbye in person.”

“I hope the letter will enlighten us.” Mitsuhide broke the seal and unfolded the paper. It held just three words.

I am sorry.

“What do you suppose that means?” The chatelaine looked anxious and confused.

Her naivete was endearing, but there were times Mitsuhide wished she was more suspicious.

Miyake snorted. “Pretty sure he’s not apologizing for missing dinner.” He turned around at the sound of a disturbance in the common room. Benches being pushed across the floor, shouts of alarm, and the stomp of running feet.

A ball of ice solidified in Mitsuhide’s belly. He hadn’t thought the ninja would act so soon - nor so precipitously. And now . . . he stood up. “Let’s see what is going on.”

The three of them pushed past the milling crowd and out into the rainy street. Across Lake Awaumi, red flames reflected against the steel grey sky. A fire big enough that even from this distance, they could smell the char of wood.

“Is that Azuchi,” his little mouse asked in a small voice.

“You can bet your best slippers, my lady.” Miyake’s face was set in a hard smile. One that promised violence to come.

“It appears, my little one, that our vacation has been cut short. We must return to Azuchi tonight.” Mitsuhide hugged her, taking comfort as much as giving it. The peace he’d hoped for was short lived, and now there was work to be done.

Above them, the storm rumbled and the rain began to fall in earnest. In moments, the fires across the lake were no more than a red glimmer barely seen through the wall of falling water. There was no sound but the rushing rain and the thunder.

Mitsuhide, Miyake, and the chatelaine fled back toward Sakamoto Castle to gather what they needed to return to Azuchi.

A figure collided with them in the street. Miyake stumbled and almost fell. Mitsuhide pushed his beloved behind him and set a hand on his sword.

“I - I’m sorry. I can’t see anything without my glasses. Please accept my deepest apologies!” The man had to shout to be heard, but even with his voice raised, Mitsuhide recognized the speaker.

“Sarutobi Sasuke.” It was an inopportune arrival, but then, neither of them could have planned for the events of this evening.

“Sasuke!” The chatelaine pushed past her fiancee to throw her arms around her old friend.

Mitsuhide pushed wet hair back from his face, squinting into the darkness. It looked like the ninja was alone, as agreed.

“Uh, my lady? Could we do this someplace dry?” Miyake’s strained voice cut through the storm sounds.

Sasuke nodded, wiping at his face. “Yes, that would be preferable. We don’t have much time though. I miscalculated the -”

A rush of wind silenced whatever else he’d been about to say. It came with a flash of lightning so bright, it blinded. And a roll of thunder that shook him to his bones. As suddenly as the wind came, it died. It left behind only empty silence and the sense of a vast space.

For a heartbeat, Mitsuhide panicked. This was a strange place, one without a sky or ground. Without familiar sounds or smells. He was alone. His little one, gone.

And then her hand found his.

He traced the small bones with his thumb, fingers entwined with hers. Though he wasn’t sure what was happening, he feared he understood.

Next: Adrift

[turbo-virgins]

WIP Saturday...? Yes. Yes it is!

Thanks so much to @chyrstis for tagging me! I really appreciate it :D

Tagging: @josephslittledeputy @snake-in-the-garden @hoesephseed @yeetslovescheese and anybody else who has a WIP they’d like to share. Feel free to tag me in your posts, I’d love to see what you’re working on!! 🥰

Below is a snippet of my Deputy (OC) / Joseph fic - the current working title for it is Holy Roller. This is from the rough draft of the first chapter. Once I get a decent backlog of chapters written for this fic, I’ll be posting it regularly on ao3!

For additional context, this is the Deputy’s first chance encounter with Joseph at a local bar.

She debated dumping her beer in the parking lot and heading back to her apartment. When she took a step toward the door, the sea of the crowd parted and on the other side she caught a glimpse of a booth across the room. It was tucked back in the corner, isolated and out of the way. The red glow of an emergency exit sign illuminated the seat against the wall. And it was empty.

Her feet changed direction mid-stride. A few people shot her nasty looks as she bumped against their tables or the backs of their chairs. Delilah didn’t care. She reached the empty booth and slid into her seat, her jeans creaking against the stiff red leather. Now this was what she had been waiting for-

“Hello,” a man’s voice said.

Delilah whipped around and found - much to her chagrin - the booth was not empty after all.

Across the table, leaning against the wall sat a man in a pristine white collared shirt and black vest. He had a neatly trimmed beard and long brown hair that was pulled up into a bun. He watched her expectantly through a pair of yellow tinted aviators, eyes bright and curious. She took in his appearance for a few seconds more before concluding that she found him attractive.

“Uh,” Delilah said stupidly, her buzzed brain frozen halfway between apologizing and flirting. Her train of thought was derailed when she noticed the white leather book in his hands. A black cross was etched into its cover. “Is that a bible?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It seemed he was pleased with her question. “Yes it is.”

“What, are you a preacher or something?”

“Yes I am.”

She huffed a laugh.

“Is something wrong with that?”

“You do know this is a bar right? Not a church?” She leaned on her elbow and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Not really a good place for a holy man to hang out.”

His eyes followed the motion of her hand. “Actually it’s the perfect place.”

Delilah raised an eyebrow.

“The sinners are all here, not in churches. I’ve come to reach them.”

“You’re gonna reach them by hiding out in a corner?”

The man leaned back and steepled his fingers atop his bible. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His thin muscular arms were littered with an array of tattoos and… were those scars? Delilah swallowed thickly. What was it with men and their sleeves rolled up that was so hot anyway? And the tattoos? Double hot.

After a moment of deliberation, he spoke. “I obey by being in the right place at the right time. God does the rest.”

“So God told you to hide in the corner,” she deadpanned. She snorted and took a gulp of her beer.

He nodded. “More or less. And now I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

Delilah narrowed her eyes, sizing up his intent. Her suspicion told her this little game wasn’t going the way she’d like. She pursed her lips. “You gonna give me a sermon on the virtues of sobriety?”

“That depends. Are you willing to listen?”

Ah. There it was. Delilah smiled ruefully. It was a shame their banter had to end so soon. The booth creaked as she slid to the edge of the cushion and rose from her seat. “Sorry, preacher man. Not today.”

His hand snaked across the table and wrapped over her hand on the bottle. She stiffened, alarm bells echoing in her head. His grip was light; her focus honed in on the cool touch of his hand, his soft skin brushing her knuckles.

“I understand,” he said, “I used to be a lot like you.” He angled his head, eyes boring into her through yellow lenses.

“Yeah?” Her smile faltered.

“Before you go I just want you to know God has a plan for you.” There was something in the look he gave her, a glimmer in his eye that was so open and earnest. For a moment Delilah wished she could believe him.

She pulled her hand out of his grip. And he let her.

Delilah’s lips parted while she searched for the right thing to say, but she couldn’t find it. Instead she turned away and melded back into the crowd around the bar. The preacher didn’t follow.

[mondscheinprinzessin]

drunken tattoos

This post discussing Olli’s not visible BC tattoo didn’t leave my mind and I just had to write something stupid. So here are Joonas and Olli making a pact to get the BC logo tattooed on their asses.

I am dedicating this dumbassery to @drippinlou and @dream-thieves

(also pls don’t get a tattoo while drunk)

Playing in front of more than a hundred people was more exhilarating than Olli could've ever expected. The way they swayed and jumped to their music, sang along to the words and made them feel like the biggest band walking on earth.

It had to be celebrated. Selling that many tickets was a new high in their band life and it was steady but surely going uphill for them. Soon it was no more playing in shady bars and dirty clubs, they could get a bigger stage and invest in equipment.

Olli wanted to ride on that high forever, the beers he had downed helping him to keep him afloat on a cloud of adrenaline, excitement, and blissful joy. The wide smile on his face had been there for the last hour or so, but Olli couldn’t stop. Seeing his bandmates in each other’s arms and screaming to a Britney Spears Remix currently playing in the club would remain as a picture forever saved in his memories.

Joonas hooked arms with him and pressed a cocktail in his hands with the command to drink it up. And who was Olli to refuse such a charming smile on his fellow guitarist.

Not long after -or was it, Olli couldn’t tell- the both of them found themselves in the alley outside the club, still swaying to the music that could be heard through the open doors. They passed a few smokers that gave them disapproving stares but Olli couldn’t care less. He was having the time of his life.

Passing a corner Joonas suddenly stopped in his tracks, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What?” Olli asked, confused. “Don’t tell me you have to puke, go somewhere else for that.” Already on the move to march forward, Olli was once again held back by Joonas by a tug on his hand.

“No, I have an amazing idea.” He told him with shining eyes, the mischief was clear as day, but that was normal with Joonas and didn’t worry him.

When nothing else came Olli motioned with his hand to continue, looking at him expectantly. Now he wanted to know. The night was too early to kill off and he was in the mood for an adventure, which was guaranteed to happen with a drunken Joonas in company.

“Oh right.” Joonas said as if he had forgotten he was in the middle of explaining. “Tattoos!”

“Tattoos?”

“Yes, tattoos! We always wanted our band logo tattooed, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Olli defended himself. “I’m not that drunk.” He said and promptly stumbled over his own foot, holding himself up by the wall next to him.

A giggling came from behind, but Olli found it funny enough to join in, already forgetting what reason Joonas had to laugh.

“Let’s do it now.”

Lifting his head, getting dizzy from the abrupt movement, he looked at Joonas, thinking hard about what they were talking about. “Huh?”

“The tattoo.” Joonas said urgently like it was the most important thing on earth right now. And...it kind of was in Olli’s opinion. Tattoos sounded great. He wanted one.

“Now?” he asked to be sure he understood the plan.

“Of course now. Now is the best time.”

Olli agreed and nodded with his head more forcefully than it was necessary, the world once again hiding behind a blurriness that he was unable to blink away.

“But we can do one better. Let’s make a pact!”

“A pact?” Olli felt like he was only asking questions this evening, his brain slowed down and unable to process any information Joonas threw his way.

Hitting him square over the chest Joonas grinned at him. “Dude, how drunk are you, keep up. A pact between brothers.”

Olli hummed and grabbed Joonas by the shoulders to pull him into a hug, simultaneously tousling his hair. They almost fell over from the force but Joonas was able to keep them upright.

“You’re the bestest brother.” Olli said and squeezed tighter, Joonas only chuckling into his shoulder, the sound loud in his ear but enough to raise his spirits even higher. The fun that came out of forming a band with his friends and touring together was the greatest thing in his life, enjoying the close bond they had and right now he had the most awesome fun ever.

Joonas weaseled his way out of his grip and jumped on his back instead, giving Olli only seconds to take a hold of his legs but they managed, going forward on wobbly knees and in a zigzag course, only swerving around a lamppost last second and when Joonas pulled his hair in the direction they were headed to.

Picking up from where they left off, Joonas said, “So, from brother to brother I say let’s put it on our ass.”

Coming to a halt, Olli tried to understand the strings of words and especially the combination of tattoo and ass in one sentence.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could stop.” Joonas let out and wiggled with his legs till Olli got the memo and started walking again. More or less.

“Why on our ass?”

“Uh...because that’s funny? And like the greatest idea ever. And funny.” He said as if it was obvious. Which- yeah okay Olli could see behind it. It was pretty funny. Hilarious even. Why didn’t they think of it before? Might be the greatest idea Joonas ever had. Or the one they could remember.

“It is.”

“Then onward my fair steed” Joonas said and began giggling again when Olli picked up speed and Joonas was swaying on his back like a ship on the high sea. It was a miracle they didn’t crash and kept lying in a ditch, waiting to be found by their bandmates in the morning.

Somehow, they managed to find their destination, or more like a random tattoo parlour that was mysteriously open at this hour. But why should they care as long as they would finally get their tattoos.

They wandered inside (Joonas by his side instead of his back), greeting the woman behind the counter who had a boring expression on her face. She raised an eyebrow, eying them from top to bottom but didn’t comment on their state.

When asked what she can do for them they simply said ass tattoo. That should cover all information needed.

The woman called for a Sarah and a blonde woman emerged from a room, waving Joonas over who had a flirty smile already on his face. Always ready to play with his charms. Who knows what could come out of this.

Olli eyed the woman, whose name he still didn’t know, but followed her willingly into another room, losing sight of Joonas. They would see each other soon enough. With a little extra on their bodies.

He laid down as instructed, his pants off over a chair and his underwear pulled down to bare his butt for everyone to see. Without the alcohol he may have been blushing more over the fact he was showing himself off so freely, but he couldn’t see what the woman was doing anyway.

He had given her the flyer of tonight's concert so she had a template for the tattoo, and it wasn’t like it was a big one, he would cope.

The first lines of the needle hurt nevertheless and reached his mind even in his drunken state, the alcohol only doing so much to fight back on the pain. After a while though the buzzing only made him tired, having to suppress the urge to close his eyes and just fall asleep.

He contemplated over doing just that when the woman swatted over his cheek not currently sporting a tattoo and that helped him getting awake again. He practically jumped up, refraining from pulling up his underwear as she needed to get over the aftercare stuff but then he was free to go.

He stumbled over the threshold into the colder night air, the alcohol level noticeably lower but not enough to keep his head from spinning. He could hardly make out Joonas leaned against the lamppost across from him, but that stupid hat was indicator enough it was his friend standing there and not some stranger with striking similarity.

Joonas put out his cigarette when Olli came closer. “Well, how was it?”

“Not liking getting my ass spanked but other than that I’m fine.”

Joonas let out a loud laugh from deep in his chest, probably waking every sleeping person in the street. “Sounds like you had a good time. Show me?”

“Are you stupid? Not here. I don’t want to get arrested for public nuisance.” Olli said and shoved Joonas away when he made grabby hands towards his belt. He was definitely not getting naked here.

“Tease.” Joonas whined disappointed. “Oh! But let me show you mine.”

“Joonas, no. I don’t wanna see your ass now either. Besides, we got the same motive?”

But Joonas didn’t make a move to open his pants, no, he only shoved his hand into his face, making him crosseyed.

Grabbing the hand waving before his eyes, he tried to focus. “Joonas, what? Hey! What is this?”

There was clearly a diamond shaped thing on the back of his hand, that suspiciously looked like their band logo, and then it dawned on him.

“There is one on your ass too, right? You didn’t make me do that alone? Right? Joonas?”

His questions fell on deaf ears though and there was only maniac laughter coming from Joonas, who upon seeing Olli’s eyes darken, got a good headstart and ran away before Olli could grab the hem of his jacket. Cursing, Olli could do nothing than follow Joonas and made sure they didn’t lose their way to the hotel and then he could wrestle him down long enough to tattoo that stupid thing on him on his own.

[teddy06writes]

The Phantom Of The Opera AU

requested by this anon: “Okay so I know you’re a musical kid so you have probably listened to/heard of Phantom of the Opera. Picture this: Dream as the Phamtom x Fem!reader as Christine x Sapnap as Raul”

Dream x Fem!reader and Sapnap x fem!reader (with dream as the phantom and sapnap as Raul)

trigger warnings: death, dream being a low key creeper, maybe some swears, my general lack of knowledge of this musical

premise: Phantom AU, not neccicarily the full story, its mainly what I’ve seen/read/listened to that I think is important, and like eight of the songs. Ummm, I feel like the summary above is enough for you to get the general idea.

(y/l/n)- your last name

“blep” regular talking

“Belp” singing

When things are in counterpoint, regular text will be (y/n), (text in parenthesis is sapnap), and {bracketed text is Dream}

if you, like me are unfamilliar with the story, this is the summary that arrived in my inbox last night (thank you so much to the person who sent that by the way, it really helped)  

“So basically phantom of the opera is a love triangle between 3 people, the Phantom (P) x Christine (C) x Raul (R). C and R were childhood friends until R had to move away. C grew up in the Opera house with her dad (deceased) as a music writer. C grows up getting “private” singing lessons from P ( he is literally talking to her through a vent ((Among Us omg)) or something idk). Fast forward into the future to present day. C is a ballerina at the opera and one day, the phantom makes the set malfunction so that the lead female opera singer (she’s a jerk. Forgot her name) can’t preform and C has to preform as the lead instead. Coincidentally, the night Christine sings as the lead is the day R comes to see her show and R is like “ooWooga she be fine now ig”. R and C catch up after the show and R goes away for a minute and then P is like “aight C imma kidnap you for a sec with no purpose whatsoever to the plot except for a cool song” and then C returns to her normal life ig. P them sends stuff to the people in charge of the Opera saying “ayo C be pretty fine, let her be the lead again” the people in charge of the opera were like “nah fam, let’s have the person who was supposed to be the lead be the lead”. Upset by this, during the show, P broke the chandelier and it fell into the audience. C is like “I love you uwu” R is like”let’s get engaged” C is like “let’s keep it a secret so the crazy P guy doesn’t find out” and little did they know during that conversation P was hiding and overheard everything and is now sad boi hours. A masquerade happens and P shows up like “ayo I heard you trynna steal my boo” and R is like “nah she my boo” and they duel or whatever. Idk how it transitions to this but the Opera runs another show and they make C the lead to not upset P. However, during a love song (Past the point of no return, it literally slaps), C realizes that the person singing isn’t the original actor, it is P! And then P straight up kidnaps C after the song, takes her to his lair and is like “boo you gotta marry me or I destroy the opera house with everyone inside it” C is like “fine ig” P takes off his mask and reveals he is hiding burn marks and he kisses C and C kisses back. P is like” my mom never even kissed me” and P let’s C go, telling her to go marry R... or you can just watch this video lmao https://youtu.be/4a5nahw3zi8″

On that note, here we go:

{that only goes for the final scene where its all three, it varies otherwise}

{Things I have learned while preparing this story, 1. the actual phantoms name is Erik, like what a nerd, 2. he’s also not actually a ghost??? He’s literally just some creeper who lives in an opera house screwing with people; also yes Eret is the strict lady who yells at everyone and talks to the phantom, deal with it}

{pls send me more musical au asks I really liked doing this, even if it took me a while}

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The ravenous applause of the audience seemed to echo in your ears, even after you had left the stage. 

You’re debut as the female lead in Hannibal had been a smashing success, and as the rest of the chorus girls backstage were saying, it was all thanks to the Phantom scaring Hannah off.  

Niki practically ran up to you from the rehearsal room, “(y/n) that was incredible!” 

You grinned, “Oh I feel like I’m floating Niki! Thank you for volunteering me for the role.” 

“Don’t thank me, Thank whoever's giving you those lessons,” She bumped her hip against yours, grinning cheekily, “And if what the girls are saying is true you’ll have to thank him for getting Hannah out of here.” 

You chuckled, but before you could say anything else Madame Eret was approaching, knocking the end of their cane of the ground, “Miss Nihachu, you are a dancer are you not?” 

Niki nodded. 

“Then get back to rehearsal,” he waited until Niki hurried off to turn to you, “He is most pleased with your performance, here.”

You took the note from him, reading over it quietly, “Red scarf..... the attic.... little lotte?” 

She simply shrugged, leaving you to turn and head up your dressing room. 

As you changed out of your costume from the show you couldn’t help but hum the song that had earned the most applause, “Think of me, think of me of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye.” 

Reaching around you found your dressing gown, pulling it on and tying up the front, “Remember me, once and a while. Please, promise you’ll try...” 

Your words faded off as your sat down at your vanity, beginning to brush out your hair. 

“Where is your red scarf Miss (y/l/n)? I hope you haven’t lost it. Not after all the trouble I went through to retrieve it for you.” 

You turned to see a tall dark hair man standing in the doorway, a grin spreading across your face as he continued, “I was only 14 and soaked to the bone...” 

“Because you ran into the sea to fetch my red scarf!” You exclaimed, jumping up and flinging your arms around him excietedly, “Sapnap! How I’ve missed you!” 

He chuckled, pulling away, and offering you a single red rose, “(y/n)... Little Lotte let her mind wander...” 

“You remember that too?” You asked with a giggle. 

Sapnap smiled and kept singing, “Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls,” 

“Or of goblins or shoes?” You joined in, “Or of riddles of frocks, or chocolates.” 

“Those picnics n the attic...” He reminisced. 

You closed your eyes, remembering those long ago days, “Father playing the violin.” 

“As we read each other those dark stories of the north.” 

“No what I like best, little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed,” You sang, “And the angel of music sings songs in my head!” 

“The angel of music sings songs in my head.” He repeated softly. 

You smiled at him, an excited fond feeling forming in your stomach as you sank back into your chair,  “Father said, when I am in heaven child I will send the angel of music to you. Well now father is dead, Sapnap. And I have been visited by the angel of music.” 

“Well that is very evident,” He chuckled, taking your hands, “Your performance was wonderful. And now, we shall go to supper.” 

“Oh- sapnap I can’t, the angle of music is very strict.” 

He didn’t seem to understand the urgency in your voice as he laughed again, “Well I shant keep you up late.”

“No- Sapnap, things have changed-”

“You have to change,” He interrupted, “And I have to grab my hat. Two minutes little lotte.” 

As he went out the door you cried after him, “Sapnap! Thing have changed Sapnap!”

But he was out of earshot, and the voice that had become so familiar to you was booming, “Insolate boy! This Slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!”

“Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side and gude me!” You begged up to the ceiling, “Angel my soul was weak! Forgive me! Enter at last master!”

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am their inside!” 

The voice sounded closer now, and you couldn’t help but look around, “Angel of music! Hide no longer!” 

You turned again, finding yourself face to face with what seemed like a mask, floating in your mirror, “Come to me, strange angel!”

“I am your angel! Come to me angel of music!” 

A shadowy figure seemed to appear behind the smiling mask, a hand outstretched to you. In a daze you stood, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you away down a dark pathway.

“Who’s voice is that?” Sapnap asked, knocking on the now closed door, “(y/n) who’s in there?” 

“Come with me angel of music!” Dream, the Phantoms voice echoed again. 

“(y/n)!” 

~~

“In sleep he came to me, the voice which calls to me and speaks my name!” You moved quietly through the passages, following Dream, “And Do I dream again? for now I find, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!” 

“Sing once again with me our strange duet! My power over you grows stronger yet! And though you turn from me to look behind, the phantom of the opera is there! Inside your mind!” He sang, turning back to make sure you were following once more.

The walls of the tunnel seemed to widen, and you could almost make out an empty candle lit space. 

You reached out, fingers almost brushing the edge of his cloak, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear..”

“It’s me they hear...” 

As you emerged into a cross roads of the tunnels, you sang in tandem, “Your (my) spirit and your (my) voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your (my) mind!” 

He helped you into the boat that waited in one tunnel, before casting off, propelling the boat down the slow moving current, “In all your fantasies, you always knew the man and mystery...” 

“Were both in you....” You sang softly as the boat came to dock in a wide chamber.

Slowly you climbed out of the boat after him, looking around the dank space, and at the organ in the corner. 

Dream pulled off his cloak, “And in this labyrinth where the night is blind..”

“The Phantom of the opera is there! Inside my mind......” 

~~

As the people downstairs argued, you tried to think over what had happened. Was it a dream? It didn’t seem like it, but still, a man appearing in her looking glass? Taking her away and singing words of praise, words of love, words that made nearly no sense now that it was day, and a haze covered your memory. 

The one thing that remained clear was the monster she had found beyond the mask.

All too soon it seemed you were being rushed into rehearsals, being told you no longer had a speaking role, as Hannah had returned, and was back to her diva ways. 

Rehearsals that would normally drag on seemed to go quicker now, and soon you and the rest of the girls were getting ready for the performance. 

“This is ridiculous,” Niki muttered as she adjusted her costume, “You should be playing the duchess, not Hannab.” 

“Hannah is the featured soprano. She’s always the lead.” You retorted. 

“But how will Sapnap know to look for you in the chorus?” Niki teased.

You elbowed her, laughing lightly, “Shut up. Besides I doubt the phantom would let him see me again.”

The show had gone well, at least until the fifth scene. 

All the music stopped abruptly as a voice boomed, “Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?”

“He’s here: The Phantom Of The Opera!” Niki cried from offstage. 

Your head jerked up to turn and look at the audience, “It’s Dream!” 

“Your part is silent, you toad!” Hannah snapped. 

From somewhere up in the audience Dream frowned, “A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad...” 

Hanna opened her mouth to continue on her script, but no sound seemed to come out, save for what was close the a croak. 

The men who had bought the opera house, Wilbur and Tommy were coming rushing down from their box, “Ladies and gentlemen we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time, with Miss (y/l/n) as the duchess!”

Tommy nodded as Wilbur finished, “And for now, we will give you the ballet, from act three of tonight's show!” 

The ballet didn’t last long, as when you returned to the wings dressed for the new role you had been given, someone let out a horrified scream.

“What the-” 

You were cut off as you looked up to see Shlatt, the stagehand in charged of the curtains, hanging from the rigging, a noose fully tightened around his neck. 

“Ladies and gentlemen remain calm! It was just an accident- remain calm!” Someone shouted. 

Through the darkness you could make out Dream’s menacing figure, the smiling mask watching you threateningly as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that had ripped at your throat. 

“(y/n)? (y/n) are you alright?” Sapnap had run down onto the stage in all the chaos. 

“We- we have to get out of here,” You choked, grabbing his hand, “We aren’t safe here.” 

He didn’t seem to understand the reason behind your panic, but even so he offer you his arm, “Lets leave then.” 

~~

Twenty minutes later you ended up in an empty park, the panic that filled your chest not yet fading as Sapnap asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We can’t go back there!” You exclaimed. 

“But we must return.” He gripped your hands, “Darling their bound to be missing you.” 

You shook your head, “Sapnap- He’ll kill you! His eyes will find us there!” 

“(y/n), don’t say that! It’s okay (y/n), it’s okay!” 

You looked up into the darkened sky, “No it’s not- no it’s not- Those eyes that burn!” 

“Don’t even think it!” He cried desperately. 

You couldn’t tell whether you were trembling from fear, or from the cold, as you sang, “And if he has to kill a thousand men....” 

“Forget this waking nightmare!” Sapnap insisted. 

“....The phantom of the opera will kill.” You sang distractedly. 

He gripped your shoulders, “This phantom is a fable, (y/n), believe me!” 

“And kill again....” You shuddered at the idea of Dream doing anything to Sapnap. 

Both of you sang, “God who is this man, who hunts to kill? (this mask of death?)

“I can’t escape him!” You cried. 

He shook his head, “Whose voice is it you hear...”

“...I never will!” 

“With every breath?” 

His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you closer to him as you both sang, “And in this labyrinth where light is blind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my (your) mind!”

“There is no Phantom of the Opera!” 

“Sapnap- I’ve been there, inside his world of never ending light! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness! Sapnap I’ve seen him!” You cried. “Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape that face? So distorted, disformed it was hardly a face!  in the darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound in that night there was music in my mind And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before!” 

“What you had was a dream and nothing more!” 

You could hardly look up at him, “yet in his eyes was all the sadness in the world! Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore!” 

“(y/n), (y/n)!”  Sapnap exclaimed. 

“.....(y/n)......” A different voice seemed to cry into the night. 

You gasped, pressing yourself against Sapnap, “What was that?” 

He hugged you tightly, before pulling back and singing gently, “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I’m here, and nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.” 

You relaxed into his grip, listening to his quiet voice, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.” 

“Say you love me, every waking moment. Turn my head and talk of summer time,” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “Say you need me now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that's all I ask of you.” 

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you are safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.” He assured you, smiling softly. 

 “All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you to always be beside me, to hold me and to hide me.” You admitted. 

Sapnap’s smile grew wider, “Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n), that's all I ask of you.” 

“Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time,” You repeated, “Say the word, and I’ll follow you.” 

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Say you love me?” 

He smiled, whispering, “You know I do.” 

“Love me- that's all I ask of you.” You both sang, before he leaned in to gently press a kiss to your lips, “Any where you go, let me go too. Love me- thats all I ask of you.” 

Sapnap kissed you again, before pulling away, “We could go anywhere- we could be married! You would marry me, yes?” 

“Oh, yes, Sapnap, yes I would. If you’d have me.” You nodded, eagerly. 

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle, before turning back toward the direction of the opera house, “I must go back, they’ll wonder where I am. Wait for me Sapnap!” 

“(y/n), I love you!” He exclaimed. 

“Wait for me, Sapnap. Order your finest horses and being waiting by the door.” You could go back, and continue working at the opera house, there was nothing left for you to fear while Sapnap was there.

“And soon you’ll be beside me!” He chuckled.

You grinned, “To guard me and too guide me!” 

Sapnap offered you his arm again, and you headed off out of the park, toward the opera house. 

Slowly, Dream slinked from the shadows where he had watched the proposal, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now your repaid me, denied and betrayed me.” 

He groaned running a hand through his hair, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. (y/n)- oh (y/n)-”

He was cut off by the sounds of your voices drifting down the street, Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time, Say the word, and I’ll follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Dream’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block out the sounds- he had been so sure that you could’ve loved him, but now Sapnap was stealing you away. 

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” He bellowed. 

~~

The following weeks at the opera house were a blur of panic masked by busyness, Wilbur and Tommy refusing to let the disaster of the chandelier falling from keeping the company from working on their next performance. 

You kept on working, the ring on the chain Sapnap had given you around your neck helping you to feel safe, even as the chorus girls cited the Phantom for the cause of all the distress. 

Now you were back in your dressing room, getting ready for dinner with Sapnap.

“Wander child, so lost, so helpless,” A soft voice seemed to drift down from no where, “Yearning for my guidance.” 

You looked up at the ceiling, “angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it their staring?” 

“Have you forgotten your angel?” The voice murmured, Dream appearing once again in your mirror. 

You turned to him, almost in a trance, “angel, oh, speak, what endless longings, echo in this whisper.” 

Sapnap, having arrived to the opera house appeared in the door, watched as you moved toward the phantom. 

“Too long you’ve wandered the winter...” Dream continued to sing, hand outstretched to you. 

“Once again she is his.” Sapnap sang, as you started to cross the room toward the mirror where the phantom stood. 

“...far from my far reaching eyes.” 

“Wildly my mind beats against you....” You sang, transfixed. 

Behind the mask Dream grinned, “You resist. Yet your soul obeys.” 

“Once again she returns, to the arms of her angel. Angel or demon? Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave. Angel or dark seducer? Who are you strange angel?” Sapnap sang, again, more to himself than you or Dream. 

Dream beckoned you forward again,  “I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music!”

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Sapnap exclaimed, moving into the room properly and drawing attention to himself. 

Dream unbothered, continued to sing, “I am your angle of music! Come to me angel of music!” 

“(y/n), (y/n) listen to me! Whatever you may believe- this thing, this man is not your father!”  Sapnap yelled, “(y/n)! Let her go! For gods sake let her go!” 

Jarred by his sudden yell, you turned, the trance broken, “Sapnap...” 

Dream, unimpressed, began to clap, deadpanning, “Bravo monsieur. Such spirited words.” 

“No more tricks monsieur!” Sapnap yelled, stepping forward to put himself between you and Dream. 

“Oh, but that's not any fun. Why don’t you come closer, sir? Keep coming this way.” 

Sapnap, not liking to be challenged, stepped forward, “You cannot win her love by holding her prisoner!” 

“No- Sapnap don’t!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back. 

He nodded resolutely, gripping your hand as you both moved toward the door, “Lets go then, no more time will be spent with this monster.” 

“Don’t go!” Dream wailed as you hurried away down the hall, “Now let it be war upon you both!” 

~~

Something was going wrong, of course it was, because when was it not?

Your entrance in Don Juan Triumphant had gone according to plan, but the man who had stepped out as Don Juan was not George, as it should have been.

You steeled yourself, trying to come up with a logical reason.

George must have gotten sick, and a stand in had taken his place, yes that must be it.

“Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we played till now, are at an end.” The man sang, “Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon that thought and let the dream descend.”

Your panic seemed to rise, the double meaning in his words filling you with dread.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire locks the door? What sweet seduction lies before is? Past the point of no return, the final thread hold. What unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

You moved carefully to your next mark, trying to work out who it was in George’s place, “You have brought me, to the moment when words run dry, to the moment when speech disappears into silence, silence.

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I already imagined, our bodies entwined. Defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I’ve decided, decided.”

You just barley stopped from trembling as you realized, it was Dream, “Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right and wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait, before we’re one?”

“When will the blood being to race? When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” You finished, taking an only slightly shaky breath.

The phantom grabbed your hand as you both sang, “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn, we’ve past the point of no return!”

Everyone in the audience seemed to hold their breath, they too knew that this was not George. The cloak that had hidden Dreams mask fell, and they gasped upon seeing the plaster smiling face.

He grinned behind the mask, and punctuated, “Say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetimes lead me, save me from my solitude.”

The words stung even before he pulled out a ring, holding it out to you, “come with me, or this whole place will come down upon us.”

Slowly you looked to the audience, Sapnap was standing in the isle, looking worried.

You couldn’t let him get hurt.

You nodded reluctantly, as he continued, “say you want me by your side anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n) that’s all I ask of-“

Slowly, you reached up, pulling the mask off his face, revealing the terribly scared face to the world.

The gasps turned into horrible screams as a curtain was raised, and Georges body tumbled onto the stage.

Almost immediately Dream flung his cloak around you, disappearing.

Sapnap ran up onto the stage, along with the crew, police officers and other patrons.

“Sapnap! Sapnap you’ve got to come with me!” Eret cried, rushing out onto the stage.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sapnap!” They yelled again, “I know where they are!”

“But can I trust you?” He demanded.

She nodded, “yes, and remember, keep your hand up at eye level.”

“Why?”

“Punjab lasso.” Was all he offered in explication as he led Sapnap away.

~~

Soon enough Sapnap was creeping through the shadows of the phantoms layer, watching as he tried to place a wedding veil on your head, “Too bad pity comes to late, turn around and face your fate, an entirety of this before your eyes!”

You turn to face him, looking up at the mess of scares that cover his face, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now, it is in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

The phantom turned suddenly, to Sapnaps hiding place, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come And now my wish comes true— you have truly made my night!”

“Free her!” Sapnap yelled, stepping into the light, “do what you want to me but let her go!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.” Dream laughed at you.

“Sapnap it’s useless!” You cried.

Sapnap shook his head, “I love her! Does that mean anything To you? I love her! Show some compassion!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Dream retorted.

He reached out toward you, “(y/n), (y/n), please let me see her!”

Dream grinned maliciously, “be my guest.”

Sapnap rushed forwards, as Dream contiued to taunt, “Monsuier, i bid you welcome, did you think that I would hurt her? Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours?” 

As he finished the last words the Punjab lasso came sailing out, and Sapnap barley had time to fling his arm back up as he was dragged back, the only thing keeping him from hanging being the fingers he’d wrangled between the rope and his neck. 

“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet. 

“Order your fine horses now!” Dream yelled, “Nothing now can save you, except maybe... (y/n).” 

You stood, shaking as he turned to you, “Start a new life with me- buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me now and send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!” 

“(y/n), forgive me, please forgive me, I did it all for you, and all for nothing.” Sapnap sang, looking at you desperately.  

At the same time you turned toward Dream, “Farewell my fallen idol, and my false friend, one by one my delusions shattered.” 

“Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!” Dream sang.

“{all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!} (say you love and my life is over, either way you choose, he has to win!) {for ether way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave?}”

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Sapnap yelled. 

You looked between them desperately, “Angel of music..... {past the point of no return!} (For pity’s sake (y/n) say no! Don’t throw your life away for my sake!) Who deserves this? When will you see reason? {The Final threshold! His life is now the prize you must earn! You’ve passed the point of no return....}”

You looked at Dream, no longer trying to hide the fear that coursed through your veins, “Angel of music, you have deceived me, I gave myself blindly to you.” 

“You try my patience! Make your choice!” Dream yelled. 

Looking back at sapnap for a moment you stepped forward, whatever it would take, you would keep him safe, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.” 

Reaching out, you took the mask from his hand, tossing it to the side as he moved closer to you as well. 

Before you could hardly blink he was kissing you, and with little more than a second thought you kissed back. 

Sapnap watched, in partials horror, until the phantom drew back, shaking as he whispered, “No one has ever kissed me- not even my own mother.” 

You nodded, and then suddenly Dream began to move across the room, grabbing a knife from somewhere as he stalked up to Sapnap.

He paused for a beat, and you could feel the terror in the room- until he slashed at the rope, and Sapnap fell the ground. 

You rushed over to him, kneeling beside him, “Sapnap! oh Sapnap!” 

“Take her,” dream wailed, “Take her and forget me, forget all of this! Leave me alone- forget all you’ve seen....”

Sapnap struggled to his feet, holding you close to him as he backed towards the channel. 

“Take the boat, leave me here, go now, please!” 

The sounds of the mob looking for Georges murderer seemed to grow louder as they grew closer.

“Hurry! Now before its too late!” Dream yelled. 

Sapnap hurriedly started to help you into the boat, but you pulled away, moving back to the Phantom, long enough to hand him the ring. 

Then you were off, turning to Sapnap as the current carried the boat away, “I’m sorry Sapnap- I couldn’t let him hurt you- I couldn’t!” 

“Shhh. It’s alright (y/n), it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He murmured, pulling you into his arms.

“Say you’ll share with me, one love one lifetime.” You sang shakily.

Sapnap nodded, “Say the word and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning...” The sounds of your voices traveled back up the tunnel for Dream to hear. 

He sighed, looking resolutly into the distance, “You alone can make my song take flight- It’s over now, the music of the night!”