#sigh. i do believe many people are reading malice in all of his actions and it must be hard

[neroushalvaus]

One notable thing about The Apology Video: James emphasizes the criticism he has got from the asexual community, even when from what I've seen, that criticism hasn't been nearly as loud as the criticism he has got concerning his treatment of women and trans people, both in his videos and when interacting with actual real life people.

Then he goes on to talk about how he was not the one writing all the hurtful things, and how that was his asexual co-writer.

Hmm.

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Spoilers for Thousand Autumns Volumes 3 and 4!!!

I didn't pay attention to it the first time I read Thousand Autumns, but during my reread it's obvious that Xie Ling and A-Yan knew that Yan Wushi loved Shen Qiao from the start.

Art by @_Konia_; reposted with permission.

It's fairly obvious that Xie Ling is infatuated with Shen Qiao immediately because his gaze never leaves Shen Qiao and Xie Ling trusts him completely:

Yan Wushi only looked at him, his eyes filled entirely with Shen Qiao’s reflection. “I’ll be taking your pulse.” Shen Qiao lifted his wrist, and Yan Wushi didn’t respond to that either, letting Shen Qiao handle him as he wished. But his eyes remained fixed on Shen Qiao—whether Shen Qiao was hunched over or sitting upright, Yan Wushi’s gaze never left him. ...Just as Shen Qiao was furrowing his brows and pondering, Yan Wushi suddenly smiled at him. This smile was different from those faint half smiles from the past, and lacked any sense of sarcasm, ridicule, or unbridled arrogance. It was simply a smile, nothing more, as if it weren’t Shen Qiao in front of him, but a beautiful flower. (vol. 3, pg. 85-6)

A-Yan tells Shen Qiao, "...I understand why my previous self treated you the way he did. He’s a paranoid person at heart, someone who’d never trust anyone else. No matter how good you are, he’d always want to bring out the darkness hidden within you. But he doesn’t know that you are you. There may be hundreds of thousands of Chen Gongs in this world, but there is only one Shen Qiao." (vol. 3, pg. 135)

Yan Wushi notices that, "There was still a hint of remaining warmth within his chest, left there by Xie Ling and A-Yan, from their feelings whenever they thought about Shen Qiao. But at this moment, Yan Wushi forcefully wiped it away..." He doesn't consider the the thoughts and feelings from the other parts of his personality to be his own." (vol. 3, pg. 142)

There's also the scene where Xie Ling tries to kiss Shen Qiao:

...Yan Wushi abruptly seized Shen Qiao’s neck, then he threw himself closer and bit down on his lips! In pain, Shen Qiao snaked his arm around Yan Wushi’s neck and struck hard. The other man fell limply on top of him. It was finally quiet. Shen Qiao let out a sigh of relief. He picked up Yan Wushi’s wrist and felt it, then let out a gasp of surprise. If the man had just been in the throes of qi deviation earlier, then now, only a short time later, his pulse had completely calmed. In contrast, his life force even seemed to be thriving? (vol. 3, pg. 225)

When Yan Wushi is back to his normal personality, he commented on the unskilled kiss: "What, did Xie Ling even forget how to kiss someone after losing most of my memories? He was so impatient he even bit you?" (vol. 3, pg. 232) Yan Wushi knows immediately that Xie Ling has feelings for Shen Qiao, but he doesn't realize his own feelings yet.

Later, Yan Wushi admits to himself that Xie Ling and A-Yan's thoughts where his own as well, and that's what leads to the confession scene:

Yan Wushi smiled but didn’t speak. Before, he’d loathed “Xie Ling’s” influence, thinking that those thoughts weren’t his own. He’d tried to suppress that strange feeling numerous times, and he’d believed that the moment he repaired the flaw in the demonic core, that feeling would vanish with it. He hadn’t expected that Shen Qiao’s smile would reawaken everything. He was unwilling to admit that he, who’d looked down upon everyone in the world, would one day find that a name had wormed its way into his heart. Human hearts were filled with malice. Some people were traitors, turning their backs on all integrity; some were ingrates, repaying kindness with enmity. There were also those who’d abandon their spouses, who were willing to do anything for wealth and glory. Yan Wushi had seen many, and he’d thought nothing of them because he, too, was a selfish, callous human. He only categorized things based on whether they deserved his notice, and to him, there were no actions that fell beyond a line that could not be crossed. However, now Yan Wushi was forced to admit that Shen Qiao was unique and that he couldn’t change him. Though the world was vast, there was still only one Shen Qiao. “My venerable self suddenly thought of something amusing,” he said. “Would you like to listen?” “No,” said Shen Qiao. Yan Wushi turned a deaf ear and started talking anyway. “Once upon a time, there was a man who found a stone in a heap of gold and jewels.” Shen Qiao’s mouth twitched. Didn’t he just say that he didn’t want to listen? “But he couldn’t believe that it was only an ordinary stone. He thought that since it’d been piled together with the mass of treasures in that room, it must also be a treasure. So, he brought it everywhere with him, and even had it examined and polished by many. But every single person, without exception, told him that it was only an ordinary stone, that there was nothing special about it. Guess what happened in the end?” Shen Qiao’s face was both lost and bewildered. “In the end, he finally believed that it was indeed a worthless stone. But in his eyes, compared to the room full of gold and silver treasure, even if it was only a stone, it was still one of a kind—a stone out of a million.” Shen Qiao was silent. Why did this story sound so bizarre? It was indeed unusual to hear such a normal story from such an abnormal person. He couldn’t help but say, “Even thousands of gold pieces cannot purchase happiness. Some people care little for wealth—they only wish to seek out things that other people find worthless. In my opinion, that man already liked that stone more than the other jewels and treasures, but he was trapped by his preconceptions and unwilling to admit it.” Yan Wushi laughed. “That’s true, you’re very correct. Thousands of gold pieces cannot purchase happiness." There seemed to be a deep significance within these words. (vol. 4, pg. 58-60)

[rwby-necro-au-archive]

(Letter to Oz and friends) Hey Oz and friends, This is Noir. I’m currently residing in the Void, the place we anons come from, due to a fight with the General. I’ll be out of commission for a while, three days tops if I believe. Could someone notify Mandy as well? I will be able to communicate via letters, like this one. The General is spiraling rn, his head isn’t in the right place even more so. His temper has gotten significantly worse, I speak from experiencing it. Beware his next actions. Love, Noir -🐈‍⬛

[ the letter appears within the office of Headmaster Ozpin, the office located in Beacon Academy on the top floor. ]

[ the appearance of the letter and the sound of it landing on the pile of other letters catches the attention of Ozpin, whom was doing reports ]

[ the pile of letters is full of a variety of things, letters from councilmen, women, and people, letters no doubtably from his biological family that are certain to be thrown away, and many from his students. The letters are separated into piles, your letter plops into the high priority pile. ]

[ he tilts his head curiously at the letter before standing up and walking over to the desk with the letters, grabbing it and sitting back down in his green desk chair. He faces the picture window previously behind him. ]

[ he reads the letter carefully, it was unlike you to send letters, only if something had happened. ]

[ The General is spiraling right now, his head isn't in the right place even more so.

His temper has gotten significantly worse, I speak from experiencing it. Beware his next actions.

Love, Noir ]

[ he grimaces, seems things were only getting worse. He had heard of the General’s arm and his close call with the malice. But he was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Oz is. It would be applauded if it wasn’t so damn irritating. ]

[ he sighs and walks over to his coat, hanging on the coat rack. He gently closes the letter and puts it into the coat’s pocket. ]

Ozpin: Seems there is more important work to do than paperwork.

Glynda won’t be happy… neither will Qrow. I need to discuss this with the teachers… he will certainly be getting more aggressive with his tactics.

[ he taps the intercom on his desk. ]

Ozpin: Hello students and staff, this is headmaster Ozpin, unfortunately due to some new information I will need to speak to all staff immediately, students, you may go on an early lunch.

However due to this information, nobody is allowed off campus until the end of the day. Enjoy your early lunch children. As for the staff, please meet me in the auditorium for more instruction.

[ he lets go of the button, turning it off ]

Ozpin: *sigh* things can never be easy can they…?

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

For the DADWC: “You’re always on my mind.”

Thanks for the prompt! @dadrunkwriting

Rhiona Cousland x Loghain Mac Tir

-:- -:- -:- -:-

He's surveying the city from the palace battlements when he receives the letter, worn in the corners and the address almost smudged off the front of the envelope. Loghain shoves it beneath the neck of his chainmail shirt, hidden and protected by his armor. It slips his mind as he works, watching busy people in the market square, the Chantry sisters outside their cloister walls. Ser Cauthrien watches his back with a list to check off. Together they assess the defenses of the city, of the palace. Having seen the darkspawn at Ostagar, he knows they can ill afford to be caught unawares.

The letter sits against his breastbone for the day. He only sees it when it falls out of his shirt when he settles at his desk for the evening's work in the late hours of the night. With a frown, Loghain picks it up to read the envelope's stained face. The script is steady, familiar, though he can't quite place it despite his running through recent memories. The letter itself looks like it was stomped by a bronto into a mud pit on its way to him. Sure enough, he can make out his name. With a sigh, he slides his fingers beneath the seal and earns himself a fine papercut along his index finger.

Loghain, it read--

You sound so different now. It's hardly believable, to hear it all throughout the countryside. I can't help but wonder: is there any of the old you to hang onto, to remember you by?

I can't help but think of you. You're in so many of my thoughts. It's hard to bear, knowing what you've done, or perhaps have let happen. I hope it is ignorance that has prevailed, and not malice. I don't remember you being malicious--may it be that you are not.

Everything in me wants to storm Denerim and see you myself, to rage against your actions since Ostagar. You do not understand, Loghain: you need more than your soldiers to protect us. The darkspawn destroy all they touch. They roam the bannorn and consume everything in front of them. We cannot afford for Denerim to fall. You know this, I know.

Please, lift the bounty on us. Let us do our work unheeded, so that we may bring to Denerim an army to help protect our homes. To protect our queen, and our Landsmeet. To meet your soldiers as allies, not enemies. We need to do our work. Please, Loghain, do the right thing and let us work to end the Blight together.

I would say I'm still yours, but I have my doubts--I don't know how I can be yours after all this.

There are water stains amongst the pages, small droplets that warp the paper into very slight waves. The letter is unsigned, but Loghain knows by the pit in his stomach that she had sent it. Rhiona doesn't understand: the bounty is for her protection, not anything else. He needs her where he can see her, touch her. The bounty on any remaining Wardens was his attempts to find her.

But she's alive. Some unknown breath he's been holding for the long months since the massacre at Ostagar releases at the way her strong script marches along the discolored pages. Rhiona is alive, and obviously well enough to send a letter to him. Where was she when she'd sent it? Where is she now? The not knowing is a painful clenching in his chest.

He misses her. Maker, he misses her, far more than he'd ever thought. To him, she had died at Ostagar. He hadn't had time to mourn her, only having had scouts sent off to Castle Cousland for reconnaissance, but now the tears fall, slowly, one by one.

I don't know how I can be yours after all this, she wrote. A nail in his coffin. It cuts him to the core. How had he fallen so deeply for this young woman, that a single sentence can shake him so badly? They had only courted for a year and a half before the engagement notices were sent out.

Things are quickly spinning out of control. Civil war stands on his doorstep, no matter how much he tries to stem it. Anora is nowhere to be seen, mourning in private. The Landsmeet is restless and vocal in their opinions on his actions, but they have no idea of what he's dealing with in the fallout of Cailan's death. Howe has grown increasingly demanding of his time and attention, regardless of how little Loghain himself wants to see him.

But Rhiona is alive and, he hopes, well.

Loghain sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the furrow there. He puts the letter away in his desk, in the left-hand drawer for important correspondence. There is no use in tears. He has work to do.

[mvttsvn]

Useless [pt1]

Modern college!au

toxic Eren x gn!reader

warnings: angst, explicit themes, dubcon, embarrassment, manipulation, degradation, OOC, cussing, and typos

authors note: this has been sittin in my drafts for months I just haven’t had the motivation to finish. there will be a part 2 with smut I just wanted to get this out first.

part 2

Eren liked to think he was a pretty simple guy. He’d meet someone, use them for his benefit, lead them on till he didn’t need them anymore, then disappear. A sick trick that he used to manipulate all kinds of people. Life really can be easy with the right looks and a smooth voice. He and only ever got what he needed. He understands how selfish it is. But gotten him this far, so what would be the point in changing. 

Unfortunately, you had been one of the unlucky few to get caught up in his schemes. Let’s be honest it wasn’t a surprise, you knew of him before. A few of your friends pinned over him for being the cute nicotine-addicted guy who couldn’t care less about World Literature 1-2. But you believed each and everyone of of his sweet little promises. “No you’re so special, I think I’m gonna keep you around for a long time sweetheart.” Deception dripping from his lips as he gave you a sinful grin.

You should’ve known...

It’s been a few months now since Eren blocked and deleted your number for his phone, the last time you spoke was when he texted you to thank you for helping him pass his English final. You replied with asking if he wanted to get lunch the following day only to be left with your text never going through. That motherfucker. Of course you were angry, mostly at yourself though. You tried not to sulk about it yet every time you’d go out you’d dress up a little then you would usually just in case you’d see him. And luckily he wasn’t in any of your classes this semester either so it would be easier to forget him.

At this point you haven’t thought of Eren in weeks, you’ve focused yourself in uni and started taking assignments and things more seriously. That was until one of Eren’s roommates unknowingly took a seat next to you in your intro to ethics course.

You’ve been to Eren’s apartment a multitude of times. You knew who his roommates were, even after having a few conversations in the late morning with them after you would spend the night. Armin, who was too engrossed from whatever was on his phone plopped his books right next to you and took a seat not sparing you a glance. Once you professor started speaking he locked his phone slipping it into his pocket and glance around the room. Once he looked at you his blue eye widened and he sorta whispered “oh hey! y/n didn’t know you were in here”

You shrugged and gave a polite smile while turning back to look at the front of the room to stare through one of the windows above the projector screen. It’s not like you hated Armin, he was very kind and never judged you when you’d take the walk of shame in the morning through Eren’s kitchen, it’s just you know that this interaction would eventually lead back to him and that made you nervous.

A week or two passed and Armin continued to sit next you, you supposed it was more comfortable for him because it didn’t look like he knew anyone else in this class, neither did you. Nor were you complaining he’d give you notes and lend you his book when you would forget. Not much conversation would happen between you either, a simple hello and other small talk would occur nothing more. A very professional relationship.

Yet when your professor assigned a partner projects you and Armin both looked at each other like :| and silently agreed to work together. It was just easier that way. The assignment wasn’t due for another 2 weeks so you had confidence that you wouldn’t have to grind at the end of the this week to do it. Until Armin caught your arm as you were leaving.

“Hey sorry to ask but would it be ok if we could work on this after school? I have a lot of stuff due this week and I’m in a bit of a time crunch.” He shyly laughed hoping you weren’t busy.

You held in a sigh “Uhh sure, can I meet you at 5 tho..I have a thing-”.

“Yeah! That’d be fine, my place?”

You kinda really didn’t want to go to his place, “yea!”

You both continued listening to your teacher’s lecture while your mind was elsewhere, you didn’t have anything after school you just wanted to go home for a bit and prepare for who you may or may not see at Eren’s Armins apartment. By the end of the day you raced home, flopping onto your bed, this was a bad idea, why didn’t you just ask for him to meet at the library or something?? This situation could’ve been a whole lot simpler if you just offered your place instead. Hell you don’t have any unconventional roommates you sleep with him so it’s just unfair. At 4:45 you gather your things and drove over to Armin’s apartment. You knocked on the door, your nerves going haywire.

You’re greeted by Armin he smiled and opened the door for you letting you walk inside. You took a glance to the side and luckily Eren’s familiar beat up tennis shoes weren’t by the door. At least you could relax for a little while, hopefully he wouldn’t come home till you were gone.

Jean was sitting on the couch watching some action movie at a low volume with Connie who was fast asleep curled up with a throw pillow. The lights in the living room were dim with the curtains on the windows shut. Yet you could still see from the light in the kitchen that shone from above the counter. Jean gave you a nod, “welcome back” he half whispered as he tipped his drink at you. You smiled and waved and made your way into Armin’s room. You sat at the edge of his desk in a borrowed kitchen chair, as he joined you sitting in his computer chair in front of his desktop. He left his door slightly ajar letting you see right through into the kitchen and front door, which made you slightly on edge. Armin started going over the project, opening a document, and reading through a few paragraphs. You tried your best you to concentrate but you were too paranoid. Every so often a loud noise from Jean’s movie on the tv would make you whip your head towards the door. About an hour in you and Armin had crunched through about a few paragraphs and of your project, to Armin’s mistake you guys definitely weren’t going to finish tonight. Hopefully the next time you’d offer your place instead.

After another 30 minutes you and Armin gave up, eventually you guys made your way back into the living room. You went to the door to gather your things until Jean and Connie basically begged you to stay and watch another movie with them. You didn’t want to, you knew if you stayed any longer the possibility of Eren coming home would increase. But when Connie got up from the couch and handed you a drink, you gave in. As you sat down you began slightly regretting your decision. Why were you staying? You and Armin were finished you can go home.

You asked yourself this when you heard keys jangle outside the door and the click of the lock. It’s roughly pushed open and Eren moves into the room, swiftly locking it behind him. “Hey man” Jean calls, you immediately tense next to Armin and fix a stare at the tv. You’re too aware of your surroundings right now to know what happening but you need a distraction. You can see his movement in your peripheral, Eren saunters in to the dark living room to stand by the opposite of the end of the couch from you. when he spots you,  you can feel his blazing stare in your skull, he laughs out a scoff and the room goes silent, except for the low murmur of the tv. 

The air is tense and awkward and everybody can see your apprehension. your heart it beating in your ears and you can feel you palms starting to sweat. The sounds of the tv are immediately drowned out when Eren breathes our your name. “What the hell are you doing here?” He grips the arm of the couch and places his left hand on his hip. You slowly turn your head to look him in the eyes when Armin speaks up trying to lighten the situation “We had a project for sadis’ class” 

Your eyes dart between Eren and Armin when Eren snides, “hmm...well it doesn’t look like your working on it” 

“hey layoff man” Jean gives him a side eye. “Yeah we finished just a few minutes ago.” Armin adds. 

“It was just a question” Eren shrugs. You can believe him, he such a fucking asshole, you’re staring at him in disbelief when he meets your eyes again he laughs “what did you miss me or somethin?” His grin is sickening, you feel the embarrassment hot on your face yet what can you do in the situation? If you leave you’ll destroy your pride and yet if you stay what if you give in to him again?

Your frozen in your seat you nails digging shapes into you palms as you clench them together. You feel the stare of everyone one in the room and it makes you want to cry. He tilts his head “can’t you speak? what wrong?” the malice in his voice makes your ears burn. You want to scream, you want to run, but he slowly walks right in front of you and holds out his hand. “C’mon”

You can leave at any moment, the door is only a few feet away yet you cautiously place your palm into his as he hauls you up from your seat. No one says anything as you guys leave the room, what a complicated situation this is huh? 

As he opens his door you try to glace back at the others yet he roughly pulls your arm though and slams his bedroom door. You hope they don’t blame you too much for going with him. You stand in the middle of a very familiar room, one you’ve visited many times yet you’re too scared too move from the spot you currently occupy. He turns to face you locking the door behind him and takes a few steps forward. You look at the floor as you begin speaking “Eren I-” 

“ohhhh so you can talk?” 

“yes’ you puff. 

He fits his hand under your chin proceeding to squish your cheeks to face him. “I don’t like you hanging out with them when I’m not around” his hot breath fan your face and you widen your eyes. The audacity. “What do you mean, were not even together anymo-” you voice smothered by his grip. 

He tips his head back and see concern in his eyes, its almost like he was hurt by your words, “Yes we are” his eyebrows scrunched together. You go to spit out another sentence when his hand moves to cover you entire mouth, he brings face to your ear, “You wound me y/n, how could you think that? I thought you loved me?” Why does he sounds so genuine? Your mind is fuzzy with confusion, of course he’s lying, you would never in a million years utter those words to him during the short time you were together. Yet the pain in his voice and the grip on your jaw is making you dizzy, his hot breath on your ear and neck are causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

 Your smaller hand goes to grip his forearm that's holding your face. He moved to look into your eyes. The dim light from the lamp in the far corner of the room casts a shadow upon his face, yet his deep green eyes seem to glow. He slowly moves his hand away placing it on your shoulder as his free hand moves to your hip. You want to yell at him, ask his why he’s doing this to you, but you place your palm softly onto his chest and drop your head in shame, “I’m sorry..i..I didn’t know” you whispered.

His warm hand goes to caress your cheek and moves into your hair lightly pulling to make you face him. “It’s ok babe, you just have to make it up to me” his chest rumbles underneath your hands as you eye widen. “You can do that, right?” You slowly nod your head and bunch his t-shirt under your fingers. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and lead you towards his bed in the corner of the room. He takes a seat on his dark blue comforter and your stand in front of him. Your hands lightly holding onto his index fingers as he carefully rocks them back and forth.  You take another look at his face and see the artificial softness slowly fade away into something dark, and conspiring.

“On your knees babe” his voice sounding rougher than before. You begin another protest but he takes his warm palms and encircles your waist to urge you down. You slowly fall to your knees, your hands on his thighs while digging your nails into his rough jeans. Your mind slowly starts to unfog and start realizing what your doing. Your shame and regret tug at your heart and you feel the tears begin to prick your eyes. You look up at Eren and see the distain in his eyes. He hums and caresses you shoulder. You wept into your chest as you feel the air being stolen from your lungs Eren moves his calloused hand to your throat and tugs to make you look him in the eyes.

Why did you have to be so damn proud?

[opossumanonymous]

How did he get in this mess?

Warnings: Inko literally uses her quirk to pull out AFOs pubic hair because I don't think anything else would immobilize him temporarily, talk of inko using her quirk to pull organs, guns mentioned

I wrote this on my phone so sorry if anything looks funky for computer users. If I made any mistakes or any characters are too ooc please tell me. Also this is a fanfic featuring AFO as Midoriya Hizashi and Inko as a ex-Black Widow and mostly features them please enjoy!~

******************************************************

How did he get in this mess, face kissing the floor and completely caught off guard?

Hizashi wasn't quite sure himself actually. One minute he was doing some 'work' before he heard the voice of his wife over his shoulder.

"Hizashi, what are you doing?"

Then he was on the floor a nearly blinding pain spread over his body leaving him in fetal position unable to think of nothing else.

Once his mind got clear again he turned his head to the side looking up at the woman who he thought was his wife. Her usually gentle smile was gone leaving a cold look on her face as she read through his files. One of her hands out stretched towards him while the other clicked through the computer.

Which made him briefly realize he may have to put plan B into action but before that he had to know if this was his wife or someone else. Last thing he wanted was to do something reckless if this wasn't his wife.

"Who-" Before Hizashi could utter a word he felt another painful pull causing him to ball up even further trying to somehow ease the pain. He choked on air as Inko? Stared at him with a blank expression now turned away from the computer. She crossed her legs as she watched him wither in pain looking at with him cold emotionless green eyes.

Who was this woman she can't be Inko! It gave him brief fear realizing that a shape-shifting spy might have tricked him somehow. After all theres no way his sweet wife could ambush him, let alone be capable of hurting him this badly! But if this is someone with a shape-shifting quirk there's no way they would also have wife's quirk as well. Unless they can copy the quirks of people they shape-shift into but then-

"So was this what you were doing while I was comforting our son?"

His eyes widened at that realization, it hit Hizashi hard as he broke out in a cold sweat. He looked up at Inko who still had that chilling look on her face making Hizashi for the first time in 200 years feel...afraid.

He didn't know whether to be impressed at her or disgusted in himself, him, All for One, the symbol of evil, the villain who has brought many heros and villains alike to their knees is...afraid? It sounds unreal just thinking about it that someone could still scare him.

Not by much but still it was a feat that no one before her had done in a long time.

He felt like he was getting whiplash knowing that the same woman who cooked him breakfast nearly every morning, who cried at anything sad or happy, and cuddled up to him at night was looming over him like some villain.

"Hizashi speak up your mumbling." She spoke harshly as he felt another pull, he's starting to lose feeling in his legs.

"I already knew." He said breathless feeling defeated almost, yet another feat none before her had accomplished. He could almost hear his brother laughing from his grave at this point. "What?" Her forehead wrinkled the cold look leaving her face for a moment making her look more like the Inko he knew.

"I checked Izuku years ago, I had my suspicions when he didn't develop his quirk after he turned 5. While I can't tell what a quirk is if I don't know it, I can sense them." He told her truthfully "When I reached into his subconscious one night after I tucked him in bed, I found no sign of a quirk." He knew their was a chance Izuku would be quirkless anyway, Hizashi was from the first generation of quirk users after all.

But he would never give his son a quirk, no he's not going to let history repeat itself, if there's anything he's learned in his 200 years of life it's never give your hero loving relatives a quirk.

Plus being a hero is 10 times more dangerous now, no thanks to him, he'd rather his precious son live quirkless.

Despite the ridicule quirkless people get from society atleast he won't ever get badly hurt or worse killed. Luckily Hizashi had a back up plan just in case he needed to protect his family from themselves.

But seeing Inko looming above him is starting to make him think about adding more reinforcements to the vault. After all she's not so much of a gullible woman like he once thought she was.

"I see but that doesn't change anything, you weren't there for our baby when he needed you most. That's why after this you're going to march into our sons room and comfort him like a good father should." He almost winched at her harsh tone. He honestly didn't know if he should be scared or not. He did still have an arsenal of quirks he could use but none that were non lethal from a long range he could use on her.

"And if I don't, what will you do?" He was curious in all honesty after all it's not every day your usually gentle and emotional wife does a 360 degree personality change on you.

"Then I'll keep ripping out your pubic hairs till you comply." He felt a slight tug again at the slight flick of her wrist causing him to flinch.

He had felt tempted to challenge her, now realizing it was a mistake seeing as she has him by the balls...literally.

"And if you try anything...well you'll be surprised at how many organs count as a small objects." She said with a chilling smile which he almost hates to admit made him flinch.

He always knew her quirk was suspicious despite only being limited to small objects it could still be a deadly quirk if used right. The number of deadly weapons considered small objects was big and considering she only needs a vague idea of where an object is located to pull it to her which includes organs...Hizashi's starting to realize he didn't really know his wife like he thought he did.

After all who would've guessed his sweet Inko would use her quirk so...creatively. He nodded, head still pressed to the hard wood floor of his office.

Inko gave a sigh of relief as she genuinely smiled running her hand through her green locks. "Good I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Hizashi felt the release of her quirk as she sat back legs still crossed.

He slowly sat on all fours before rising to his knees still feeling phantom pains with each slight movement.

Once he was on his knees he wrapped his arms around her waist laying his head in her stomach. She gently caressed his head of white curls causing him to sink further into her and let out a content hum. After a while he looked up at her, the cold look on her face gone now taking a more softer expression.

"I knew you where a villain since the first week after we got married." Hizashi didn't think Inko could shock him anymore but that honestly got him, and yet again she conquered another feat.

He would have never guessed that she knew about him being a villain before now. "Honestly I felt like I got rusty since I found out so late, but I guess living a normal civilian life will make anyone like that." She smiled gently at him looking more like the Inko he knew. Or atleast thought he knew, she was one of the most ordinary people he met from her average nursing job to her adorable naiveté at times.(which he now knows was probably just an act) She played him like a fiddle, he underestimated her and made him fall even harder for her.

That's right, he didn't think it was possible to love her even more than he already did, but this moment proved that wrong.

"Wait then if you knew why did you stay and why wait until now to bring it up?"

She furrowed her eyebrows again before turning her head away from him thinking about her answer for a second before looking back. "I'm not exactly who I said I was either..." She trailed off with a far away look in her eyes almost like she was looking through him and not at him.

He took her hand which had stopped rubbing his head and brought it to his cheek. This seemed to help her focus again as she gave him a tired smile.

"I'm not a good person either Hizashi I've done alot of things that I now regret." For a moment he guessed that she was an ex-villain that he'd just never heard of.

Although that was very unlikely seeing as he liked to keep tabs on most high profile villains to find anyone with good...potential. Inko definitely wasn't a low class villain she just didn't fit the profile of a bank robber or common street thug. Her aura gave off a more experienced air to it not to mention no low class villain would have the guts to look him in the eye once finding out who he really is.

"I was once apart of an organization who specialized in training those considered...unless in society." The way she said useless held a malice to it despite her still having a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"They kidnapped me and many other young girls most of them either being quirkless or having 'weak' quirks." Quirkless trafficking while rare nowadays still went on but he'd never heard of an organization making quirkless people assassins. Wlep there's a first time for everything he guessed.

"They trained and raised all of us to be assassins, to put it simply, they chose us because they knew we'd be underestimated."

Assassins? If someone had told him is lovely wife was secretly an assassin he'd laugh in their face before killing them for saying such a thing. But now after being brought to his knees by her he honestly isn't surprised, at this point he'd believe anything that came out of her mouth. She could tell him she could kill someone with only a plastic spoon and he'd believe her.

"I was one of the lucky ones i was able to escape before my 'graduation' if you could call it that. I was even able to find my birth certificate after months of digging through missing persons reports." She now went back to stroking his white curls as she spoke.

"After escaping I decided to live the life my mother wanted me to or at least I like to think she'd want me to." He knew she was an orphan, she'd told him that on their second date he never thought much about it.

He never even really looked into her mother much either only knowing that she died when Inko was young and that she was Nana Shimura's sister. When he found this out at first he was suspicious but over time he let his guard down, if that was a mistake is still up for debate.

"They called us Black Widows." He'd heard that name before but it's been so long, last time he heard the words Black Widow he was reading a comic book to his sick brother. It's either unoriginal or genius considering most will only think of the comic book hero Black Widow opposed to it being a real organization.

Finally getting the feeling back in his legs he stood up stretching slightly while she watched him. He stared down at her now that he had the high ground it was time to give her what she deserved.

He leaned down towards her his hands coming up to her face menacingly. But she just sat there unfazed with a serene look on her face, their was no real use in trying she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He held her face as he leaned in and gave her lips a gentle kiss.

After pulling away he took her hand and helped her out of his office chair. "Now time to go see about Izuku hopefully I can get him out of his depressed mood."

Giving her a true smile only reserved for his family he lead her out of his office not before shutting down his computer and locking the door.

"Yes please talk to him because I didn't know what to do than to apologize to him." She sighed clearly distressed. "While it has been a long time since I escaped somethings I still just don't know the right words for." She looked defeated like she didn't just have Japan's greatest villain nearly kissing her feet.

"It's fine darling soon Izuku will go back to being that happy kid again, you'll see." He gave her a final kiss before heading to Izukus room ready to help his son or else face the wraith of his wife.

He briefly wondered just how good of an assassin his wife is and just how many she's killed. But quickly shook those thoughts away as he entered his son's All Might themed room.

While he'd never ask her anything more about her past as a Black Widow he soon came to realize she was highly skilled as he watched his son on TV.

He was watching UAs sports festival with Tomura at his current hideout the boy exclaiming in shock at this year's winner.

The one to take first place was UAs first quirkless student Midoriya Izuku who took out the competition with only a pair of electroshock bracelets as wepons.

Not to say that it was only the support tools that secured his win, the way he bended dodging attacks and hit his opponents with devastating blows to the head made him nearly laugh out loud.

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same kind boy he once tucked in bed but he had to admit his son was quite reckless.

He's in all honesty proud of his son especially for beating Mizuki's brat whose bullied his poor son for years. While he isnt happy that his son's well on his way to being a hero atleast Inko trained him well.

Just how did Hizashi get in this mess he'd hoped quirklessness would make his son reconsider being a hero but it seems Inko had other plans.

*****************************************************

Extras:

So originally Inko was gonna hold him at gun point but I felt like AFO wouldn't be sacred of a gun so....

Also Inko has wepons (mostly guns) hidden in every wall in the apartment after all you never know when the red room might strike.

Inko still gets chubby but not from stress over Izuku being quirkless it's more so over the red room possibly finding him and taking him. She's still bad ass tho, can kill anyone with a just plastic spoon.

She also ran away from the red room before they could sterilize her.

Izuku does eventually get One for all but it's after the sports festival instead, tho he does still parade as a quirkless hero even after One for all.

He also is a vigilante on the side under the name Black Widow tho most think he's a girl because of the Black Widow reference. He even wears his mom's old Black Widow suit.

You could say he's hero Deku by day and vigilante Black Widow by night!

AFO totally knows it's him tho because he knows Inko wouldn't be that reckless or feral.

Izuku has no idea his loving father is AFO but knows his mom's an ex-assassin.

[livia-dovehallow]

Hi! Thanks for answering about requests, may I suggest something ? I was thinking about a scene in Coi timeline of when Gabriel had to deal with Thomas being accused of murder, and maybe adding also Gideons reaction to that, as it was a scene I really wanted to have read in Chain of Iron but sadly wasn't there.

Congrats on your celebration and happy bday!! Would you consider doing a fic when Thomas was arrested please? Like both Gabrily and Sophideon finding out

There were two of you who requested this exact scene so I thought, well I have to do it now! Please enjoy!

CHAIN OF IRON SPOILER WARNING

Family Above All - The Lightwoods

Characters: Thomas Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Maurice Bridgestock

Time: 1903, London, England

Thomas had had better days.

Granted, being arrested and accused of several gruesome murders was not a remote candidate for one of his better days, but he’d surprisingly remained calm. Bridgestock had taken too much pleasure in arresting him for something he had no situational understanding of but for Thomas, he had a long list of people who would look out for him. Of course, when his parents find out, they would jump to his defense in a heartbeat. But Thomas had another advantage as well—Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel were currently running the Institute, and there was no way they would let Bridgestock try him for murder.

Thomas’s hopes were fulfilled when the doors of the Institute flew open and his aunt and uncle stood in the threshold with furious expressions directed at the Inquisitor. “What in Raziel’s name is going on here?” Uncle Gabriel demanded. His voice was thunderous and echoed in the entryway.

“Thomas Lightwood was found with the body of Lilian Highsmith, covered in her blood,” said Bridgestock, much too happily for speaking about a death of one of the most esteemed members of the Enclave. “We’ve caught the murderer and justice will be swiftly served for the families of the deceased.”

“Bollocks!” shouted Aunt Cecily, her voice just as thunderous and threatening as Uncle Gabriel’s had been. Thomas wondered if the Inquisitor knew that Aunt Cecily was not someone you wanted to displease. “Maurice, you cannot possibly believe that Thomas here is capable of something so horrendous.”

The Inquisitor did not flinch. So, he did not know not to anger Cecily Lightwood. “Your familial connection creates a conflict of interest in this case, Mrs. Lightwood,” Bridgestock said, annoyed. “It is best to let myself and the other members of the Council decide Thomas’s fate.”

Gabriel looked as if one of Christopher’s flammable experiments were about to erupt out of his ears. “It will be a cold day in Hell before I leave my nephew in the hands of someone without his best interest in mind,” he said sternly. “Until you come to us with cold, hard evidence of his guilt, Thomas’s name will not be announced to the Clave and he will remain here, in the Institute, is that understood?”

The Inquisitor looked furious, but Thomas had to admit that Uncle Gabriel had a point. There was no evidence other than being found. There was no weapon, no defensive wounds. “All right,” answered Bridgestock unhappily. “He will remain anonymous to those outside of the investigation. But, he will be under guard in the Institute Sanctuary until he can be tried under the Mortal Sword. Fair?”

Aunt Cecily took a step forward looking ready to swing her fist but Uncle Gabriel held her back, though he looked equally unhappy. “It is fair,” Thomas said suddenly. His aunt and uncle looked at him, their expressions easing to concern. “I will face the Mortal Sword. I am innocent and the Sword will prove my innocence. There are worse places to wait than the Sanctuary.”

“Splendid,” Bridgestock announced. He motioned the guards holding him to move toward the Sanctuary and Thomas followed, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait long.

.

.

The moment Thomas disappeared behind the hall to the Sanctuary, Gabriel and Cecily went into action. “I’ll call for my brother,” Cecily rushed, her face pinched in worry for their nephew. “Have him bring the Sword from Paris and be the one to question Thomas.”

Gabriel nodded, holding on to her hands tight. She could see the worry and fear filling her husband’s body. “I’ll call my brother, as well,” he said, his voice wavering in his attempt to remain calm. “They’ve been through too much. Damn Maurice for putting them through more heartache but there is no reason on earth Gideon and Sophie should not be here.”

Cecily released on of her hands from his grip and held it against his jaw. He relaxed in her touch, as he always did, and kissed her palm softly. “We’ll protect him,” she said confidently. He nodded without a word. “We are the co-heads of the Institute,” she added, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “We will protect Thomas.”

Gabriel smiled, ever so slightly, and squeezed her hand. “Marrying you was the best decision I ever made,” he thought aloud. Cecily smiled happily.

“Of course it was.”

.

.

The room closed in on Sophie Lightwood.

The words no mother should ever have to hear she had heard too many times. These were her children—her babies. She carried each one of them for nine months and brought them into the world surrounded in so much love. And yet—

Barbara is gone. Thomas has been arrested. Eugenia is ruined.

“Sophie.” Gideon’s voice was urgent in her ear, pulling her back into the present. His arms were around her tight. “Sophie, we must go. He needs us.”

Sophie nodded. Her son needs her. She must go to him. “Where is Genia?” she asked, her throat hoarse.

“I’m here, Mum,” came her daughter’s voice. Eugenia emerged from her bedroom with a fierce expression. “No one is getting to Tom if I have any say about it.”

Despite everything, Sophie smiled in relief at her daughter. Eugenia was strong and it eased much of Sophie’s worries (not all, of course. Once a mother always a mother). And her girls had always been protective of their younger brother, who was not so little anymore. She nodded at Eugenia and glanced up at Gideon. “Let’s go. We must see Tom.”

.

.

Thomas hissed at the sting from cut on his hands from the rough way the guards has fastened him to his seat. “Aunt Cecily, that hurts.”

She clicked her tongue at him and continued to dab away at the blood around his wrists. She insisted on checking for any dirt or infection in his wound—Bridgestock had prohibited any iratzes for him as his injuries were considered evidence. “I’ll hang that man for having you tied to a chair,” Aunt Cecily grumbled. Thomas fought an ill-timed smile but he was comforted with the knowledge that the adults in his life were looking out for him. And the knowledge that Aunt Cecily was fully capable of following through on her threats.

He had heard his father arguing with several members of the Council upstairs, but it was his mother’s and sister’s heels clicking against the stone floors that created the loudest sound in his ears. The door opened and they flooded in. Eugenia looked angry and carried her knife in her hand, which she had likely used to threaten the guard to let her in. His mother, on the other hand, looked as if she were about to cry. “Thomas,” she whispered desperately and rushed to him. Her hands were soft against his face. There were bags under her eyes that had been there ever since they lost Barbara and Thomas knew they would likely never go away. It pained him to see her like that—tired and heartbroken. “They haven’t hurt you, have they? Are you all right?”

“I’m okay, Mum,” he assured her in as comforting of a voice as he could muster. “Aunt Cecily is a very good caretaker.”

“With a wicked good right hook,” Eugenia mused. He could almost feel the smug grin their aunt gave her at that comment.

“I’m happy to see you Genie,” Thomas said to his sister suddenly. Eugenia seemed surprised, but pleased. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved to see you come at me with a knife.”

Sophie sighed in defeat and kneeled in front of him, still checking him over despite his insistence that he was not hurt. “We know it wasn’t you,” she told him. “Of course, it wasn’t you. You would never do such a thing. Your father has gone ballistic upstairs with your uncle over this and I have half a mind to march up there and join them.”

Thomas smiled. “I’m sure if you and Aunt Cecily paraded up there looking as angry as you do now, the Council will be frightened to tears.”

“As well they should be.” Aunt Cecily stood and wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress. She was still scowling, but her eyes showed her affection for him. She’d always looked out for his cousins with such fervor that it felt strange experiencing it for himself, but he was not surprised. His own mother had always told him that if he ever needed anything and he couldn’t reach her, that Aunt Cecily would help him as if he were her own child.

“Thank you, Aunt Cecily,” Thomas said to her. She smiled kindly at him. He turned back to his mother, who gazed at him with heartbreaking concern. “I’m all right, Mum. Truly.”

Sophie sniffed and tried her best to smile for him. Thomas wished she wouldn’t do that. “Hush,” she scolded him without malice. “Let your mother fuss over you. It is the one thing I can still do for my children that has no age limit.”

“You do plenty for us, Mum,” Eugenia offered in one of her softer tones. Her knife was still in her hand. “Tom is just like you. He’s looking out for everyone other than himself when he should be focusing on himself. Lucky for him, I am like Papa.”

Thomas scoffed, though it came out sounding more like a laugh, and their mother finally smiled ever so slightly. “Your uncle has convinced the Inquisitor to lockdown the Institute until Charlotte and Will return with the Mortal Sword. No curious onlookers will be poking around here. We’ll make sure of it.”

Aunt Cecily clapped her hands, looking pleased. “That man,” she said, delighted. “Reminds me why I married him every day. Come—let us go add fuel to the fire.” She gripped Sophie’s upper arm and lifted her from the floor at Thomas’s feet. She turned to Eugenia. “I trust you to guard the door?”

Eugenia smiled devilishly. “No one will get past me.”

Aunt Cecily winked—she had helped with much of Genia’s training—and tugged at Sophie’s arm. “Thomas will be all right. I promise. Aunt’s Honor.”

His mother rolled her eyes, but she went along with Aunt Cecily after hugging Thomas tight. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

“I know,” he had answered. “I love you, too, Mum.”

.

.

“This is idiotic,” Gideon demanded. He stood in the foyer of the Institute, behind locked doors that he would never be able to thank his brother enough for, staring down the Inquisitor with little hesitation. “You have known Thomas since he was an infant, Maurice. He has never done anything remotely like this in his life. You can’t possibly believe he’s killed all these people!”

Bridgestock was unbothered by Gideon’s outbursts. If anything, he looked simply annoyed that he had heard the same argument from various members of the Lightwood family. “Sentimentality and nepotism have no place in a murder investigation, Gideon,” he said roughly. Gideon thought he was less than a second away from knocking the daylights out of him. “I don’t care if he’s your son or not. He will be investigated.”

Clicks of heels sounded toward them; they were fast, determined. Gideon didn’t need to turn to know it was Sophie and Cecily, but he turned anyway to find her face red with anger. In no less than a moment was she at his side, her hand rising from her waist.

A loud, echoing slap filled the tense air. There was a moment of silence, in which the occupants of the foyer stood gaping, before Bridgestock’s face morphed into anger, his cheek turning a livid red. Nearly as quickly as his hand had come up to return the hit were Gideon and Gabriel’s hands on his wrist with an iron grip. “How dare you shackle my son to a chair and leave him bleeding,” Sophie seethed. She had not flinched. Sophie was hardly livid, but when she was, she was glorious and frightening. Gideon tightened his grip on Bridgestock’s wrist, forcing himself to hold back from snapping the bones into pieces for raising a hand to his wife.

“You arrest my son with no evidence, dare raise a hand to my wife, and now I learn you have shackled him without iratzes?” Gideon roared. He stepped closer to Bridgestock, his wrist still in his grip—Gabriel had let go long ago, though his gaze was thunderous—and hissed through his teeth: “Some man of the law you are.”

“Careful who you threaten,” warned the Inquisitor. He was annoyingly calm, testing even, with a pleased and self-satisfied glint in his eyes. “You may be at the Consul’s side, but it is I who dictate the Law, Lightwood.”

“And how long will that last—” interrupted Cecily. She stood at Gabriel’s side with her chin held high—“when Thomas states under the Mortal Sword that he is innocent? What explanation will you create to guard yourself from ridicule among the Council for being so certain of a case without evidence, dissolved with a single question under the Sword?”

The Inquisitor’s angry glare turned to Cecily, who stared him down right back. Gideon suppressed a smirk.

“Think twice before you say or do anything to my wife,” Gabriel warned.

Bridgestock angrily twisted his arm out from Gideon’s grip and took a step back. His eyes were still full of annoyance and anger. “It would do you both some good to control your women. Loose tongues lead to bad incidents.”

“Is that a promise?” Cecily wondered.

“It would do you some good to learn temperance and manners,” Gideon snapped. “Get out before I do something actually worth an arrest. Do not show your face to me again until Will returns with the Mortal Sword.”

Hope you enjoyed :’) || @tsccreatorsnet

[feitansluver]

Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

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

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

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

They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

[felassanis]

Beauty Laid Bare - Solavellan

Lavellan remembers her old clan during an intimate moment with Solas. Remembering her dreams and the way the Dalish shaped her life as a Half-Elf. As the truth is revealed to her, Solas pulls back the curtain on her childhood. And she realises her worth isn't dependent on her Blood-writing...

Words: 1,166 | AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/34237195

In dreams she walks the overgrown path from a castle nestled in the mountains to the Dalish encampment tucked away in the Ferelden woodlands. Where stone was once flat against her heels, grass now sits in between her toes. Markets and soldiers are but figments of a vague imagination as juniper broth bubbles above the campfire. Halla graze in their pens under a blooming sun and her Keeper reads silently in her chair. Watching the little ones pluck their pretend bows and the women braid the men’s hair.

Leilani was surrounded by painted faces. Their vallaslin was made up of intricate patterns and mesmerizing details. But in a camp busy with elves, she feels alone. Hiding herself away up in the trees with one leg swinging side to side. Watching the Dalish down below go about their lives. 

She felt bare and naked, like a cat without claws. A wolf without teeth. A bear with no bite. Unworthy of surrounding herself with so many beautiful elves when her face was pale and bland. But that day, when the morning air was crisp and elfroot was beginning to grow numerous. She felt no need to hide herself. Because that day, the Keeper ushered her for her blood-writing at long last.

She picked the most complex of the blood writing. One that worshipped Elgar’nan, the All-Father. It would take the entire day to be etched across her features, and it was a gruelling painful action. But she did not care. She wanted to mask the non-elven features with the pride of the All-Father. To burn the wrath of the sun onto her freckles and around her smaller eyes. 

And it did burn. Her nails dug bloody crescents in her palms and she chewed on a piece of wood. But she stayed silent throughout the process. As was expected.

She remembers how her heart swelled when the other Dalish smiled at her. Their toothy grins no longer barely masking malice. And the elders no longer poked at her cheeks and wished her eyes were bigger. Instead they remarked on how proud she looked with the All-Father’s patterned kiss. Oh, how giddy she was when her reflection stared back in the wading waters of the river. And she could no longer recognise the little half-elf in her. Elgar’nan’s markings eclipsed the left side of her face in its brilliant green glory. Twiry vines shrouding the right that showed little hints of her flesh…

Leilani was eager to carry her pride throughout her life. That was until he took her to that soggy grove deep in Crestwood. Told her truths the Fade had revealed to him. She felt marred and tricked as his steely eyes glazed over what were really slave markings. 

How could the Dalish have forgotten? Why was so much that she had been taught to hold dear, hiding half-truths and dirty secrets?

When he offered her that choice, to have it pried from her face like breaking iron shackles. She thought about what the Dalish would do. What their hearts would tell them. The people, her people, vowed to never submit to slavery. 

Magic blooms around her as she sits beside her lover. His fingers move in silent rhythm, working faint magic that feels cool against her skin as Elgar’nan comes away from her face. And for the first time in her life, she feels…

“You are so beautiful,” Solas says. Barely above a whisper. She wonders if he had sensed her apprehension. That nagging doubt always in the back of her head. 

For a moment when the Vallaslin peeled away. The word Shem rang like church bells in her mind. But it all disappears when he touches her cheek and tells her his truth. And for the first time in her life, she believes it. 

Appearances were hardly everything. And yet a small drop of anger falls into a pool in her heart. The ripples bring forth memories of a little girl bringing a knife to her ears because her clan told her they were not sharp enough. She still has the scars of a young elf wanting to mould and shape her face forcefully. It is like Solas has drawn back the curtains on her life. It is a horrific, cruel truth to be exposed to. But Leilani realises the advantages to a cold truth rather than a comforting lie. Her clan didn’t want the best for her...they just wanted to pretend she didn’t have a human father out there somewhere.

For him to make her see the truth. To make her feel comfortable and loved afterwards…to see not a runt of a Shem, but her, Leilani Lavellan...it meant everything.

He takes her face in his hands. Fingers smoothing along her cheek bones as his thumbs stroke underneath her eyes. Like he was truly feeling her soft skin for the first time. She feels bare beneath his stare...but not in a bad way. There is no nagging feeling that she is missing something. That some part of her had gotten away. Maybe she is a Shem now...perhaps she is both a Shem and an Elf. Certainly to Solas, she is beautiful. And that’s all she cares about.

“I mean it,” He says again.

“Do you?” Leilani knows he sees the invitation in her eyes when he licks his lips. But doesn’t wait for him to take her invitation. She leans forward suddenly. Pressing their lips together as his fingers find their way to her neck. Pressing that exact spot that has her leaning even more into him. 

Solas is always gentle, even in moments like these where she wishes he wasn’t. Maybe it's the confidence he has ignited in her for the first time in her life, but she nips at his bottom lip. Daring him. Teasing him and pushing him to his limit.

“Where’ve you been all my life, ma vhenan?” She whispers against his eager lips. The Elven language had always sounded so awkward to her ears when she spoke it. Like trying to recite the spells in the Keeper’s bulky spellbook from memory. But Solas didn’t seem to mind, he understood her perfectly despite her imperfection. And she felt comfortable in her shaky utterances when around him.

He answers in elvish; a string of words unknown to her. But she didn’t have to, their rhythm which permeates from the lovely rumble of his throat tells her he feels the same way. He resumes the kiss, she nips at him again. His fingers press into the nape of her neck, arching her head upwards so he may kiss her harder. He sighs beautifully into her mouth when she snakes her hand up his stomach, and she takes it in lovingly like air. The taste of him on her tongue and his sweet inhales ignites a warmth in her stomach. 

Suddenly, Solas pulls away. Giving her a look she’s never seen on him before as she looks dazed and confused….

[ezrasarm]

For the requests 23. “Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.” From the prompt list? Doesn't have to be the exact quote I just like the concept. Any character you want!

The Weight Of It All

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Angst (oops 🤭), mentions of violence and death, my failed attempt at redeeming it with fluff, severe lack of proofreading because I’m lazy

A/N: This was meant to be mindless fluff and cuddles and then whatever this is happened and I wound up accidentally incorporating @wille-zarr’s request too (I don’t know how this keeps happening). A huge thank you to @chaotic-noceur for beta reading most of this bad boy and of course for providing moral support, ideas and probably my favourite line in the whole damn thing and to @din-damn-djarin not only for providing the prompt (or at least one of them) but also for providing ideas for her own request cause I know that kinda takes the magic out of it.

gif by @lucy-sky

Din noticed something had shifted recently. You had been distant. More withdrawn. You thought you were being discrete but he had heard you rattling around the old ship in the early hours of the morning to quell your busy mind. You had been losing sleep, there was no question of that. But over what was still a mystery to him. He kept his inquiries to himself for the most part. Opting to observe your new habits and see what he could extrapolate on his own. He didn’t want to hit a nerve by asking you the wrong question.

Travelling alone for so long before he met you meant he wasn’t well versed in this kind of interaction. The kind that involved prying into another’s mind and picking apart their thought processes to try and understand their emotions. It all seemed too complicated. He knew how uncomfortable it could be when others tried to do it to him. Yet when you asked, it came so naturally. Like you could sense just when he was ready to broach those heavy topics that had been weighing on his mind for too long. 

As little as he expressed it, it always made him feel better once he got it out in the open. It was small things. A simple “You alright?” Or “What’s on your mind?”. Just a reminder that someone- you- were there. He wished he could do the same for you. Say a few words and make all your worries and problems disappear but he didn’t know how. The words never sounded right coming out of his mouth. And the longer he danced around the subject trying to figure it out, the longer you suffered on your own.

It was sudden when a jolt ran through the ship. Din had only excused himself for a few moments to go and check on the kid, leaving you at the controls. Lately, it was like the little green creature could sense your weariness and it was making him restless too. He kept acting up when you tried to put him to bed. Wailing when either of you left the room for more than ten seconds. It was as though he thought you were never going to come back. When a second jolt shuddered through the hull causing the entire ship to begin quaking violently Din was sure you were under siege or had entered some kind of asteroid field. He came scrambling up the ladder and into the cockpit as fast as he could but when he got there he found no such thing.

It was like muscle memory had taken over entirely as he flicked switches and pressed buttons frantically to get the craft back under control. His heart was pounding in his ears from the sudden kick of adrenaline when he turned to ask what the hell had just happened. There was actually a hint of anger that had swirled amongst his panic. He couldn’t believe you would be so irresponsible as to put all of you at risk- the child at risk- yourself at risk. But when his gaze fell on you, out cold in the captain’s seat, all those thoughts sublimated. There was a brief moment that he thought you had hurt yourself. That you’d hit your head in all the commotion and got a concussion. But when he was finally able to turn his full attention to you, he quickly came to the realization that that was not the case at all. You were asleep. For what he was sure was the first time in a long time. It suddenly dawned on him just how deprived you had to have been.

As mesmerizing as the view was, the Razor Crest’s cockpit was not a quiet place. He himself had troubles nodding off there if he willed it upon himself. He thought about how overwhelming the exhaustion must have been for you to fall asleep in the middle of all that and now all he could do was curse himself for not knowing what it was that kept you up at night. He considered moving you to his own bed where it was warmer and quiet and you could rest more comfortably but he also knew he couldn’t live with himself if he were the one to disturb your much-needed repose. Instead, he opted for tucking a spare blanket over your crumpled form and sitting himself down in the copilot’s seat to avoid a repeat offence of the crest’s most recent blunders.

Rolling his head against the headrest Din had just flicked the ship into autopilot and leaned back to try and get a moment of shut-eye for himself. He let his half-lidded gaze fall on your peaceful features, the soft curve of the junction between your neck and shoulder and the slight parting of your lips as your jaw hung open lazily. He focused on the subtle rise and fall to your chest as you breathed in and out each breath. He thought he was just on the edge of sleep when you shot upright. A sudden gasp escaped you as your eyes flung wide open. It was like your head had been held underwater for far too long by some invisible force and this was your first fighting breath for air. “Din,” you sputtered out in your terror, blinded by the sting of tears in your eyes. He didn’t have time to notice it was his name that slipped off your tongue subconsciously as you grasped for any semblance of safety you could get before he was kneeled in front of you, gloved hands gripping either side of your face, brushing the hair out of your line of sight so the only place your gaze could land was on him.

“Shh, it was just a bad dream.” He hushes in an attempt to soothe you despite his heart hammering against his ribcage. “Just a dream, okay? I’m right here.” He repeats quietly, raking his gloved fingers through your hair in an action that he wasn’t sure was more comforting to you or himself. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He hummed through the static of his modulator when your stuttering breaths finally began to settle, resting the cool beskar of his helmet against your worried brow in what he hoped was an act of reassurance. He was just getting ready to open his mouth and ask what was troubling you when you beat him to it.

“I can’t make it stop.” You whispered through a shuddering breath, still clutched to the fabric that was peeking out from beneath his beskar for dear life when he pulled back to study your face. It suddenly dawned on him that it wasn’t that you couldn’t sleep. It’s that you were avoiding it. “Every time I close my eyes I see him and I-” Another sob cuts you off but Din’s mind is already racing with the possibilities. Questions of who this man was- what he had done to you- when he had even gotten the chance, were all swirling around his head twisting into a blind rage he didn’t know how to exert.

“Who?” He asks, disliking the way the urgency in his voice made you flinch slightly as a glint of a tear breached your waterline.

“The man on Jakku.” His heart dropped at that. He hadn’t even considered it. Last month the two of you had been on the desert planet for what was meant to be a simple job. Things went south and before you knew it a man was dead at your feet, a blaster trembling in your hand. Din had admired you for it. He had sung you praise over the way you handled it with such composure. But that didn’t help the fact that every time you let your eyes slip shut you were met with the cold dead gaze of your victim staring back at you. It hadn’t even occurred to him the kind mental toll it would take on you.

“You did what you had to-”

“I’m a killer, Din.” He didn’t miss the disdain laced in your voice at the mention of the word and he couldn’t help but wonder if you held that same contempt for him given the way he made his living.

“He didn’t give you any options, cyare.” He tries to reason with you but you’re too caught up in your own flurry of emotions for his words to reach you.

“He could have had a life- a wife to go home to- a family who depended on him-”

“And he was trying to kill yours!” He pleaded. It was the loudest you had ever heard him raise his voice before. He had regretted it the moment the words passed his lips but he needed you to hear him, to listen, to understand you weren’t in the wrong.

“I know, Din!” You cried back, your volume matching his own before he can even stammer out an apology. “I know.” You whispered once again. “But I’m not… like you.” There were so many things you admired about the man you loved and the way his dedication to his religion had shaped him. You adored his selflessness to do what was right for his people and to carry their name with honor and dignity. You cherished his devotion to provide for you and protect you by any means necessary with a reverence you weren’t sure he truly grasped and you understood that killing was a part of that. You would never ask him to stop but you knew you could never justify ending someone’s life in the way he did with such ease. “I wasn’t taught how to take a life and treat it like it means nothing.” The words held no malice and rationally he knew you meant no offence in saying them but they stung him just the same.

“Is that how little you think of me?” A soft croak to his voice that contradicted the empty visor gazing up at you unshakably.

“Din, that’s not what I meant.” You sighed. You could see the hint of a nod in understanding but it did nothing to quell the guilt swirling in your stomach. “I just… how do you make it go away?” You ask after a few more moments of deafening silence, your words weak and tired as you looked as they left your mouth. At that he lets out a heavy breath, rolls back on his heels and pushes himself into a standing position. For a heartbeat you think he might leave you here, alone to the thoughts you’d been so frantically trying to avoid but instead he takes your hands in his and pulls you up before turning the two of you around and dragging you down by the hips to sit on his lap. You don’t say anything for a while, too scared you’ll screw up like you did just a minute ago.

“After my first kill, I threw up.” He speaks eventually, securing his arms a little tighter around your waist. He had never told anyone that before. While he had been embarrassed by it for so long and feared what it implied about him as a member of his faith now he looked back on it with a kind of pride he hadn’t taken the time to fully consider before. “It was a rabbit. I had to snap its neck.” He explained, his voice now even but not empty of emotion. “I can still hear the bones cracking to this day.” He says. “These things don’t just go away, cyare. They stay with us. They keep us grounded.” Din explains just as his buir had when he had asked a very similar question as a child. He hated that he didn’t know how to protect you from this. From your own mind. He wished he could have shielded you from the whole ordeal in the first place but he couldn’t deny how much mandokar he saw in you now despite it. Your worries now only proved as more evidence of that. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier.” He says, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “But I don’t think you would like the person you had become if it did.” He says with a hint of certitude to his voice that manages to assuage your grief more than you had been able to in the months since the incident had occurred. If nothing else now you were sure you weren’t alone. That the very feeling you thought set you apart most from your mandalorian turned out to be the one that coalesced you the most.

“Din?” You murmur wrapping an arm over his shoulder as you nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale a heavy breath of a scent you can only define as him.

“Mhmm?” He hums in return, his fingertips running up and down your spine gently when he tilts his head down to look at you.

With the way you were being crushed under the weight of your own guilt you couldn’t believe the amount of strength it took for him to carry not only his own burden but some of yours too. You don’t even know how to begin thanking him. So that’s where you start. With a quiet whisper of a ‘thank you’ and a kiss pressed to his shoulder. “I don’t know how you live with this everyday.” You mumble against the thick fabric, your voice still fragile as your eyes slip shut and you grip onto him just a little bit tighter.

“It helps having you here with me.” He goes to say, dipping his forehead to press against yours only to realize your breaths had evened out to a gentle snore and you had finally drifted off to what he hoped was a restful sleep.

•••

Cyare - my love

Buir - parental figure

Mandokar - the *right stuff*, the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life

Masterlist

Taglist: @agirllovespasta @chaoticspaceidiot  @engineeredfiction  @pedropascalito  @dreamgirl-67  @wickedfrsgrl  @hillarymurray4  @din-damn-djarin  @yespolkadotkitty  @wille-zarr @chaotic-noceur @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @opheliaelysia @cryptkeepersoul

[petri808]

@ktdkvalentines​ for Syd on Ig Valentines Exchange

Bakudeku College Au. TW: panic attack, anxiety, some angst w/happy ending based on the request.

Izuku Midoriya was in a great mood that Fall morning as he arrived at the college campus. His first day of his first year away from home, ready to start the next leg of his journey. He’d chosen this university for its good reviews and psychology program. He wanted to do something good in his life and what better way then helping others who’d suffered like he had. Not that he’d had a horrible life but growing up in a single parent household created some attachment issues and bullying when he was younger left him with anxieties. All through high school he’d worked extra hard to get to a point where he could function most of the time, and he was proud of how far he’d come. That growth is what led him to pursue a career in psychology, to take his negative experiences and turn them into a positive one.

So, he wasn’t ready when he walked into the dorm room and saw the familiar blonde hair and red eyes of his nightmares looking back at him. 

Oh, this couldn’t be happening! Izuku swallowed hard, a mantra of calming statements flooding his brain as a silent staring content ensued. Neither man said a word, but the longer this went on for, the voices in his mind slowed and were replaced with questions. He was starting to realize... did the blonde even remember him?! He couldn’t tell if it was confusion, or maybe pain on the man’s twisted features, but it certainly wasn’t the angry boy he’d grown up with.

“Wow, Izuku is that you?” The man spoke with no malice in his tone, even rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Been a long time, huh?”

“Yeah... about 7 years I think.”

“H-How you been?”

“Okay, I guess. A bit surprised to see a familiar face.”

The blonde’s shoulders dropped slightly, and he averted his eyes to the ground, “probably not who you’d hoped to see again...”

“I didn’t say...”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The man waved his hands to stop him. “I— I owe you an apology Zuku. And I’m not looking for forgiveness cause I don’t deserve it, but I hope we can, I don’t know like start off fresh, I guess, since we’re stuck in this room together.”

Izuku blinked in confusion, what had happened to Katsuki Bakugou in these past 7 years?! He was certain it wasn’t all arouse, or that the man was trying to bring his guard down, because Katsuki sounded genuine. Until the age of 2 or 3 they were actually really close, but for some reason by the end of their first year of primary school, he’d started picking on Izuku, or taking out his anger on the smaller boy. He had no idea what triggered it, but in the end, he was left emotionally scarred. Now, the man standing before him exuded a broken version of that 3-year-old child he once knew.

“You’re right. I lost count of how many times I ran home in tears because of you. We were best friends and it really hurt when you started picking on me and being mean to me.” The pain evident in his voice rang out into the small, shared room. “I don’t care why you did it. But,” Izuku continued with a sigh, “you’re right, I don’t wanna rehash the past either, so if we can just start over and put up with being roommates, we’ll see how it goes.”

“I’d like that. A-and I know it might not mean much but am sorry Zuku— about how I’d treated you. I promise, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“I believe you.” And he did, for now. Deep down, Izuku always tried to stay positive because if he didn’t, and allowed the irrational thoughts to fester, it could pull him right back into an episode. He didn’t fully trust Katsuki yet, but if was serious about going into the counseling field, he also knew it was important to continue moving forward. That didn’t mean divulging all of his secrets, or telling Katsuki about his own struggles, but he’ll stay alert to make sure that at any sign the man was slipping, he’d get out of there.

As the first two months crept along, the roommates went about their own business with very little interactions at first. It was a bit weird to Izuku, to be in a shared room where their beds were literally just a few feet from one another’s, yet they were lucky to go beyond a good morning or hello. In comfortable situations, he was a bubbly person who genuinely enjoyed talking to people, so the stillness of their room was unnerving. Of course, this was better than feeling fearful around Katsuki, but how are they to move forward and maybe become friends again, if they weren’t interacting?

So, because they weren’t talking, Izuku did the next best thing and observed. One thing that had not changed about Katsuki, was being meticulous. The blondes side of the room was always neat and tidy, books or stationery on the desk stacked perfectly, clothes in the closet organized by color and type, even the bed was always made with crisp corners. Early to bed and early to rise, the man had a ritual of sorts. If he wasn’t studying at his desk, he’d be on his bed reading or listening to music. Even the way Katsuki ate was curious to Izuku, constantly wiping his hands or face of any residue. There were a few things the blonde requested of him, no scented candles or strong, smelling fish type meals, and to leave his side of the curtains closed, something about the sunlight bothering him. They were simple enough requests to acquiesce to.

The man rarely left the room except to go to class and as far as he could tell, Katsuki had only one other friend on the campus who’d occasionally drop by. A nice guy, very friendly named Eijiro Kirishima. Well, he assumed they were friends because most of the time, his roommate stayed quiet while Eijiro did the talking. Izuku was pretty sure he spoke to the man more then Katsuki during these visits. They seemed unlikely friends really, one happy-go-lucky, and one anti-social... kind of reminded him of their once friendship now that he thought about it.

Izuku could appreciate the idea of sticking to familiar surroundings. Their dorm room was a sanctuary for him as well. He avoided large, crowded areas as much as possible, and if he didn’t know anyone, did his best to be inconspicuous. But within their room, with just the two of them, it should be a comfortable experience. Before coming to the school, he’d wondered what his roommate would be like or imagined making friends, so it was a little disappointing. By the third month it was a close friend of Izuku’s that suggested he make the first move to engage Katsuki in conversations. Start out simple, maybe learn any hobbies, what music he listened to, his major, etc. Forget the fact he knew the man and pretend as if he’s trying to make a new friend. Ugh, he hated making the first move. Izuku preferred being engaged not initiating it because it drove his anxieties up. But they were right. ‘Think of it like practice,’ Izuku reasoned with himself, ‘pulling a difficult client out of their shell.’

It was a lazy Sunday around midterms when Izuku decided to make a move. As he sat rested on his bed similarly to Katsuki, with his back against the wall and a textbook propped on his legs. Every few seconds, he glanced over the book’s edge, side-eyeing the blonde who was also nose deep into a chemistry textbook. Should he say something? But the man looked preoccupied, and Chemistry is a difficult subject. Maybe he shouldn’t bother Katsuki? He didn’t want to be annoying or anything and it wasn’t important really. Then again, the guy was always preoccupied with something or other and if he waited for a perfect moment, what if it never came? Would he wait forever? No, this was as good a time as ever.

Izuku lowered his book. “H-How’s the studying going Kacchan?”

The blonde turned to look at him briefly. “Fine.” Then returned to his reading.

“Oh, that’s good.”

Ugh! It was always so hard to get a read on Katsuki! His affect and tone were flat, no anger, amusement, nothing, just his common one worded response. It was rare for the blonde to give or maintain eye contact, so at least the man looked at him this time.

He tried another question. “I noticed your chemistry book, is that your major?”

“Yup.”

“Um, what do you do with a chemistry degree?” Izuku asked genuinely.

This time Katsuki surprised Izuku when he stopped and put his book down before engaging. “I’m fascinated by the chemical reactions of fire and combustion. How it works, why it occurs, how it can be manipulated, stuff like that. And I don’t know, I could be a scientist, or maybe do pyrotechnics, just work somewhere I don’t have to talk to too many people.”

“Wow! I mean I was never good at math and stuff to understand, but it sounds pretty interesting.”

“I guess so. What’s with the questions all of a sudden?”

“W-Well,” Izuku shifted his body to face the man completely, “we’re roommates. I don’t expect us to be full-on friends, but I figured it would be nice to talk sometimes.” Katsuki’s silent reply of nothing forced him to make a decision to continue talking, because he assumed if the man wasn’t interested, he would have turned away. Silence wasn’t exactly a normal response, but maybe the blonde really wasn’t sure what to say next. “I don’t expect you tell me super personal stuff— just small talk. Like, um, what kind of music do you like?”

“Alternative.”

Izuku’s eyes flashed with surprise at such a quick response. Okay, so Katsuki was fine with answering. “I like that too! Well, some,” he giggled. “Though I mostly listen to pop now. What about movies?”

“Horror films.”

“Oof,” Izuku cringed. “I can’t handle those they scare me too much!”

“I remember. It gave you nightmares.”

Bouncing on the bed, Izuku’s legs moved to hang over the edge in his excitement. He was really surprised in a good way that Katsuki remembered something so mundane about him. “Wow! You still remember that?! Yeah,” he laughed, “I’ll stick to sci-fi or action. Plus, I’m not fond of theaters anyways so, I just watch stuff on my laptop.”

“Why not? You used to be the outgoing one.”

That made Izuku flinch because he wasn’t ready to tread into that territory with his former bully. “Oh, you know, it’s always crowded, and you have to deal with parent-less kids causing a racket in the place. I rather just enjoy my movie without all that.”

“Makes sense. I don’t care to go to places like that either.”

“Yeah, I noticed that— is there anything you do like or hobbies maybe?”

“Just exercising in the early morning, by myself, except since Eijiro inserted himself, I tolerate him.”

So, that confirmed what he’d already suspected. Katsuki kept his body in really great shape and that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Izuku. But since he wasn’t much of a morning person, he didn’t notice what time Katsuki left the dorm, only the man’s return, showered and refreshed. Needless to say, the blonde male with wet hair was nice to look at and smelled good too. “Oh,” his face heated up at the thought of it, but he needed to play dumb. “So, that’s what you do in the mornings. I wondered about that.”

Things between the roommates settle into a comfortable routine. As another month passes by, Izuku still needed to start the conversation, but at least Katsuki would respond amicably or engaged with him, and to his delight with the help of Eijiro, they’d even managed to get the man to go out to dinner once. Those years of dread and angst were melting away, and soon enough Izuku looked forward to spending time with his old friend.

He still couldn’t get a full read on Katsuki’s demeanor. The man’s emotionless responses made it difficult to tell whether or not he was even enjoying anything. So, Izuku could only assume that by participating, he didn’t mind. The old Katsuki would say whatever he was thinking, good or bad, and while he got the sense that he would do so as needed, such as letting him know about the scent issue, it would be really nice if it didn’t feel like a guessing game all the time. Regardless, the progress they were making to rekindle any sort of relationship was a win in Izuku’s mind.

“Here.”

Izuku looked up from his desk to see a plastic shopping bag held in Katsuki’s hand. “What’s this?” He took it tentatively.

“I saw it at the store. You still into this stuff?”

He opened the bag and pulled out the latest action figure of his favorite comic book character. It was a figurine he’d been saving up his spare money to buy. “Kacchan,” Izuku looked back up curiously at the man. “Is this for me? How’d you know?”

Katsuki just shrugged. “Just remembered you were obsessed with the guy.”

“Thank you, really, but I can’t except this gift, it’s not even my birthday.”

“Just take it. Think of it as an I’m sorry gift if it makes you feel better.”

As Izuku sat there stunned, the blonde simply went back to his bed without another word and picked up a book as if nothing significant had just occurred.

“T-Thank you, Kacchan.”

“Yeah, no prob.”

His face heated up and a smile took over as he stared at the action figure for a few seconds before staging it prominently on his bedside table. Izuku had left all of his collectibles at home, so it was nice to have something in their room. But even more important, was again, Katsuki remembered something about Izuku from their childhood and took the time to get this gift. Despite their long rocky history, this small act meant the world to him. It was the first true moment to make Izuku think, maybe they really could be like they once were.

Finals were approaching in barely two more weeks, and some students were already stressing out. The anxiety in the air felt palpable to Izuku. He could feel it practically oozing off the other students. Of course, everyone dealt with stress in different ways. Some went inwards, the pressure fueling them to work harder while other’s went the completely opposite route of goofing off and procrastinating. Other’s might stress eat, binge caffeine drinks, and friends banded together in study groups. But then there are the ones who took out their frustrations and stress on others.

Bullies. The bane of Izuku’s existence.

Most of the time, he could easily avoid their type around campus. He’d developed a sixth sense for such individuals which his therapist explained as a heightened sense of energy levels. It’s really not as mystical as it sounds, rather that, those like him that suffer from a high level of anxiety, are sensitive to other people’s emotional outputs. Being bullied or harassed himself certainly sent his anxiety’s skyrocketing but seeing it could also trigger a problem depending on the severity.

Hence his current predicament...

It was the end of the day for Izuku and he was ready to just get back to his dorm, eat something, and dive into his studies. One of his teachers had released the finals study guide early, so he thought it best to get a head start. But as he made his way past the row of dorm buildings, Izuku spotted something that sent a cold chill down his spine. Three men cornering a fourth. They were at least 50 yards away and he couldn’t hear everything they were yelling. Something about a group project, pulling weight— One man had grabbed the victims shirt and was semi-lifting him up while the other two men just watched and egged him on.

Oh, this was not good! Izuku’s memories started to replay and his experiences were brought back to the forefront. The men’s faces were so close... he could almost feel the hot breath wafting over, spit hitting his face, or the smell of the bullies breath. It made him sick to his stomach. Izuku’s heart raced, his throat began to close up, and breathing grew erratic. He needed to get out of there! The red piercing eyes of his nightmares took center stage in his mind’s eye... all those times he was harassed and battered by Katsuki rushing back like a wave to toss him against a wall of sandy hair.

‘Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths!’ Izuku screamed in his head, ‘calm down, calm down, get back to my room! It’s not you, it’s not you... it’s not him! It’s not him!!’

Izuku picked up the pace, a fast walk over a running sprint to avoid being noticed. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself and risk becoming the new target. He dug his nails hard into his arm to force his mind towards a physical distraction, but it wasn’t working.

A deep voice screamed, cursing at the top of its lungs, and filling Izuku’s mind, just like that long ago day. The worst attack, the one that finally pushed his mother to move him to a different school. All the fear coursing through his veins rush back, heart pounding against his rib cage. Katsuki had grabbed him, hand fisted into his shirt as he pushed Izuku up a wall and off his feet. He could still feel the cold stone wall behind him juxtaposed to the pain from his hot throbbing lip and swollen cheek where he’d been struck.

He burst through the dorm room door, stumbling, spilling his bag onto the floor as he fell to his knees, gasping for air because his jaw felt locked up and he couldn’t get enough air. All of his muscles were tensing up, imagined or not, it felt like he was suffocating. His body was shaking, sweating— he wanted to puke.

“Whoa, Zuku, what’s wrong?!”

Katsuki had rushed over and dropped to the floor, grabbing Izuku by the shoulders to hold him up and steady. But he couldn’t answer the man in words. Tears were streaming down his face as he did his best to focus and answer the man, but it was tough, fighting against the rapid assault of images in his mind and cursing blaring in his eardrums.

“Fuck, um, allergic reaction?!”

Izuku shook his head violently, no.

“Choking?!”

Again, Izuku shook his head violently, no.

“Panic attack?!”

Izuku now adamantly shook his head, yes!

“Okay, okay, shit, panic attacks, um, it’s been awhile, what do I— oh, right, okay, okay, d-don’t move!” Katsuki stumbled back to his feet and ran out of the room, coming back within a minute with a cup of ice cubes from the common kitchen. He takes one, two, three, shoving it into Izuku’s mouth. It took a bit of effort to get the man’s jaw to open wide enough to shove it in. “Close your mouth all the way, try to get the ice to touch the roof of your mouth.”

Seconds after the ice touched, it sent a brain freeze from hell shooting through Izuku’s pain receptors. “Ahhh!” He spat out all the melting cubes as his hands fly up to his head, cradling, squeezing to counter against the physical pain, “cold! Cold! Cold!”

At that statement, Katsuki slumped back onto his haunches in relief. “Oh good, it worked.” He then took Izuku’s hands with an even soft tone. “Look at me.” Once the man complied, he continued. “Focus on your breathing, inhale when I say to, exhale when I say to.”

Izuku struggled against the embers of irrational thoughts coupled with the brain freeze coming down. His breathing stayed haggard, jagged as he fought his own mind to follow Katsuki’s instructions. But every time he’d start to struggle, the man would refocus him back to the breathing by pressing his thumb nail into the webbing of Izuku’s hand. Not very hard, but enough of a sting to bring back his focus on the physical. It took about 15 minutes until he could breathe in time with Katsuki’s words.

Be it the overwhelming sense of release or sheer exhaustion, Izuku collapsed on to Katsuki’s chest. His panicked breathing whittled down to silent sobbing. The blonde didn’t move or flinch and held the man up, simply keeping his arms around his back without a word. Minutes dragged by as the tears finally slowed.

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku breathed out. “How’d you know what to do?”

“Let’s just say, I’ve had my share.”

Izuku sat back, rubbing away the moisture drying on his cheeks as he looked at his roommate with new eyes. “You? W-When? I-I mean if you don’t wanna say, it’s fine, I’ll understand. We probably both have a lot a secrets.”

Katsuki thought for a moment. “If I tell you what happened, you gotta come clean too.”

He hadn’t expected that, but after what had just occurred, perhaps it was time. “Okay,” Izuku nods.

“In middle school I was sent to a therapist because of my anger issues and diagnosed as a high functioning autistic. Frankly, I don’t know how much to believe in that, but in the end, the therapist was a good thing.” Katsuki leaned back against a desk leg. “The short answer, I learned the reason I’d started bullying you was because I was getting frustrated with myself which lead to anger, and I wrongly took it out on the closest person to me.”

“Why were you frustrated? I thought we were fine...”

“It had nothing to do with you. It was me and I don’t know, I just started feeling different, I didn’t like being around people, didn’t understand or even care about anyone because I couldn’t figure out how to fit in. Yet I’d watch you make friends so effortlessly and I got mad. There’s a lot more to it, even blamed my mom for some of it, but I just didn’t know how else to get it out except through anger. It took a few years to learn to control myself. That’s one of the reasons I got into exercising. If I start feeling frustrated, I can take it out that way now, burn off the excess energy I guess.”

Izuku was a little taken aback at the idea Katsuki’s been diagnosed on the autism spectrum. The man didn’t seem like he had a mental disorder, but the clues were there. The aversion to certain stimulus, social apathy, his fixations on certain elements. “Wow... I had no idea. It doesn’t excuse what you did, but I’m glad you’ve come this far.”

“So, what about you?”

“I don’t think it was just the bullying that started it all. After my dad left us, I was already vulnerable, it’s why I latched onto you so quickly. So, when you started— I-I felt extremely hurt. You were my first friend, my best friend Kacchan and when you started hurting me... I don’t know what was worse, the physical pain or the mental ones. By the time I moved schools, I’d developed anxiety and depression, and it got so bad my mom finally took me to a therapist where I worked all through high school to get it under control. I do really good now, but sometimes things trigger me.” More tears resurface to cloud Izuku’s eyes, but he kept them from spilling. “Today, on my way here, I-I saw a guy being harassed and it brought it all back again. Nothing was working, so I just thought if I could just get to safety, a-and I don’t know, I figured I could get it under control once I was alone. But I’m glad you were here, because I don’t think I could have. You really, saved me today Kacchan.”

“It doesn’t make up for anything. I’m the asshole who made you like this.”

He snorted a laugh, “that’s for sure, but the cause became the cure.”

“What?”

“You caused this, but today you cured it. That means a lot to me because I do want to forgive you.”

“No. I don’t deserve a second chance. I’m content that we’re at least on speaking terms again and I could make amends somehow.”

“Kacchan, everyone deserves a second chance.” Izuku’s smile returned. “We were kids. You didn’t know better. And you’ve changed, that’s the important thing. I think we’ve both changed.”

“How?”

“Well, it’s those experiences that helped me to find a new passion in life to help others— people like us who are struggling with something. Turn a negative into a positive.”

“How the hell do you do that? You just had a panic attack and you’re already sunny smiles again. I mean you were always like this, and it’s me, I just don’t get emotions, but if you wanna forgive me, I guess I can’t stop you.”

Izuku shrugged. “Nope you, can’t,” he smiled wider. “Right now, this is probably the happiest I’ve felt in a very long time.” He stood up and extended a hand, helping Katsuki to his feet. “Dinner, my treat.”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“I know,” Izuku smiled. “I’ll order in.”

[evermorehaikyuu]

Brute Force Attack

In which Tsukishima Kei finds out the real danger lurking behind the screens.

Word Count: 1383 words

Taglist: @our-tall-slytherin-queen @gg9183 @airybby @wheeshllumi

Note: White Hats are hackers with good ethics. Black Hats are the complete opposite of that. Gray Hats remain neutral. I actually liked writing this one, it took me a while to do so, but I liked it.

There was never a moment of sleep for him. Maybe he could've taken a break, it was just a hacking job after all. His own brother was caught, he'd be a fool if he let himself be next as well.

Tsukishima pressed a finger to his temple, a gentle sigh resting on his lips. His best friend was a sniper and someone he knew was a mechanic. Both of them worked for the same side.

What side?, he asked himself. There wasn't a side. He was a Gray Hat, only neutral, not joining anyone. He knew he had great potential as a hacker, working under a good influence or a bad one. This was too much to think about.

Standing up from his desk and unplugging all of the computers, he plucked a USB drive from nowhere and triple locked his door. He wasn't exactly paranoid but after what happened to his brother, he couldn't risk it. It felt like it was just yesterday that he recalled what had happened. 

Akiteru was smart, that much Tsukishima agreed with. But he had lied completely and said that he didn’t have any agents at his back, he was one of the best hackers in the industry. However, when Tsukishima was going to go back to his house, it became clear that Akiteru had tricked Tsukishima into thinking he was safe. 

It doesn’t matter anymore, he thought to himself as he walked along the shady streets heading to his favorite person’s place. He’d never openly admit it, but just from his actions it was clear how he felt towards her.

Y/N had been the person to get him out of his slump by force and taught him so much that he used in his everyday life, also helping him earn a job that he’d get paid for. With time, she was the one to help him move on from the feeling of betrayal he had gone through with his brother. It didn’t help either that every time he saw her, something inside of his chest twisted and his heart raced faster. 

Knocking on the door and waiting patiently, once he saw her through the crack of the door, he had to suppress a smile. 

Y/N, on the other hand, grinned widely as she opened the door fully. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite person in the world.”

“You say that to every person that brings you food, Y/N.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes as she laughed and followed her inside. 

“What brings you here, Tsukishima?”

“What, I can’t visit you?” He questioned, sitting down on one of her armchairs. “You make it seem like I always want something from you, maybe I just want your company.”

“Tsundere.” Y/N shook her head playfully and set a slice of strawberry shortcake and a water bottle in front of him. She started making herself busy in the kitchen and Tsukishima got a good glimpse of everything around him.

It wasn’t a clean room, it was the typical hacker’s room. Full of computers, wires, knick-knacks, heavy hardcover books the sizes of textbooks, a swivel chair in front of all of the screens, but there was one thing that did catch his eye from all of this. On one of the walls, there was a collage of black and white pictures, red string connecting them to a large map in the center and sheets of paper tacked to the wall. He didn’t think he should go and look at it, it’d be an invasion of privacy. Maybe she was becoming a Red Hat. She had taught him to be a Gray Hat, he didn’t expect her to stay in that position. She couldn’t be held down to one thing only. He took the water bottle in his hand, but didn’t open it.

Sitting in the chair across from him, she squinted at him and smiled. “You’re worried about something or someone. Let me take a lucky guess here and say you’re thinking about Akiteru.”

Damn it, he thought. Y/N was exceedingly good at reading emotions and it wasn’t like he wore his heart on his sleeve either. It was a miracle she hadn’t deduced his actual feelings towards her. “I don’t know how he was caught. He lied to me and said he wasn’t being traced but he was. He put himself in so much danger and didn’t say anything.” The object in his hand was dangerously closed to combusting from his grip.

Y/N placed her hand on his and plucked it out of his hold. “You know our job, Tsukishima. It doesn’t matter when or where or how, sometimes even the best people get caught.” Taking his hands in hers, she stared up at him with meaning behind her eyes. “Look at me.”

“I am.” Tsukishima insisted, but he could only look at her hands, his heart rate going faster than the adrenaline he always felt during a job. 

“Mm, no you’re not. Let me ask you this, why do you think the best people and the good people get caught? Because their morals make them choose incorrectly and they end up behind bars. How many Black Hats do you think have been caught in the past years? The ratio is immense.” 

Something was off. There was a shimmer in her eyes. Why was she talking about the Black Hats like they were her savior? They were Gray Hats, they were supposed to stay absolutely neutral. But Tsukishima knew that if he had to choose, he’d choose the White Hats for the sole fact that if he choose the Black Hats, he’d be going against what Akiteru worked for. 

The gleam in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, making him think he was imagining things. She pulled her hands away gently as she heard a timer go off in the kitchen. “We’re Gray Hats, yes. However...don’t you think it’s time to choose?” She left him alone in his thoughts as she entered the kitchen.

That was the statement that got to him. There was definitely something suspicious going on with her. Looking at the wall full of paper and back at the place where Y/N had entered, he had a choice. Either live not knowing or see what was behind her motives of her words. Obviously, he chose the latter.

However, as he studied everything, the sheets of paper were written in a language he didn’t recognize, yet the pictures gave him everything he needed to know. These were the cases he had studied with Y/N when she was his mentor in the field. They were cases caused by Black Hats. They studied all of these cases together and tried to solve them before moving on. It wasn’t him that chose to move on, it was her. 

Tsukishima couldn’t tear his eyes away from everything, all of the pieces finally coming together. That’s when he noticed something. He took a picture of Akiteru away from the wall and then saw a sticky note applied to it that said “concluded”. No. It couldn’t be possible, he was wrong, everything his rational mind was saying was incorrect. She couldn’t possibly have been working with the Black Hats and caused his brother to be sentenced. Not the girl he had fallen so hard for. Not the girl who had taught him everything. 

Not the girl that was there for him through it all.

“So your curiosity got the better of you, huh?” Y/N said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe with her arms crossed. 

He looked at her and squinted, not wanting to believe what his mind chanted as the truth. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

Y/N grinned at him, yet it wasn't the sweet smile he'd come to love. Malice resonated behind it, truly making him fear her for the first time in his life. "I'm not you. You only run away from both sides. I chose the side that will prevail. You have five minutes before they come for you too. Oh and tell Akiteru I said hello."

With those words, Tsukishima took off running, not daring to look behind from fear of only seeing dark pools of tar in her eyes.

Betrayal was a sweet and unexpected poison.

[svnfulmyg]

Molten Gold// JJK

Molten Gold Part 1

Summary: Loneliness is all you felt for a long time, until you began to see the side of your bodyguard who kept his heart close.

Genre: Royalty Au, Bodyguard Au, Angst.. a lot of it, Eventual Smut.

Author’s note: Yaayyyy! Finally writing my first story, beyond excited. Feedback is always appreciated!

Word Count: 5.4K.. 

A tense silence engulfs you, drowning out the bustling of the maids. His dark menacing eyes hold you in place, pouring iced water on you, chilling you to the bones. 

When did it come to this? 

“___,” Your husband exhales tiredly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to grip whatever patience he had left for you. “Stop running away from the conversation. The need for an heir must be discussed, there are questions being asked.” 

Gods, you know. Of course you know what was to be expected, but you can not bring yourself to do it. How could he talk about this in front of people?

Damn him.

Yunho’s patience snaps, slamming a cup on the floor. You try not to flinch while the maids freeze and gasp at the sudden noise. The air turns frosty, each one of them waiting with a baited breath to see what their beloved king would do. Your eyes find his own, his holding nothing but contempt. Fist clenched, his chest heaving. 

You waited for the worst.

“Get her dressed, the party will be starting soon.” Yunho sneers, not waiting for a response as he makes his way to the door. 

Frustrated tears pool into your eyes, watching his back as he walks. He never spares you a glance, never bothering with the chaos he leaves behind. As his back disappears, a throat clears; your eyes snapping, looking for the source. Ready to let your anger pour and unleash, the need to get it out was overwhelming.

Your eyes meet the ones of your bodyguard’s, Jungkook’s. His big eyes solemn, as he holds your gaze, wishing he didn’t witness what has happened. His hair brushes into his eyes as he looks at you, expression unreadable; and before you can question him, he bows and walks briskly out the door. 

Not giving it much thought, you glance at your maid who looks at you with sympathy. You give her a sad smile of your own, wishing for the unreachable.

The ballroom is alive with music and lively chatter, many couples dancing and mingling. You glance at Yunho, a crowd around him hanging to his every word. The tangy taste of champagne slides down your throat, but it gives you no relief. 

You hate these occasions, where you have to pretend what you weren’t, that you weren’t in a loveless marriage. You much prefer being in your garden or in the library reading about the world, that you yearn to be in and explore. 

The king turns and cocks his head, taking you in before a wicked smile paints his lips. He holds out his hand, staring at you expectantly. A challenging gleam shines in his eyes, a twisted game playing in his head. 

“Come, darling.” He coos in a sickeningly sweet tone, and you grit your teeth together. He knows he hasn’t given you much of an option, and he’s thriving off of it. Leaving you no choices always gives him satisfaction, giving his sadistic side a thrill. But you were never one to take it without dishing it as well, so you plaster a smile, one as convincing as his own.

You daintily place your hand in his and he pulls you tightly against him. The crowd scrutinizes you, while the women look at you with slight distaste that isn’t blatantly obvious.

After all, you were their queen.

They immediately bow as your husband continues his conversation, and you give a pretty smile back. 

“Ah, Your Majesty, you look as beautiful as ever.” The man next to Yunho gives you a bow and a sweet smile, a genuine one finding its way to your lips.

“Mr. Jung, a pleasure to see you as always. I hope you and your wife are full of blessings.” He beams at you and continues to tell you about his wife, you envy the love and respect in his voice. Nevertheless, you keep a soft smile plastered on your lips. Not long after that your eyes eventually wander and catch the eyes of Jungkook’s, his unreadable as he nods at you.

You are shaken from your daze, and Mr. Jung looks slightly uncomfortably at your husband. A hand squeezes your waist in warning, you glance and Yunho and he gives you a tense smile. “Darling, Hoseok was telling us how his wife and him are expecting a child.” His hand is heavy on your waist, anchoring you to where you are now. Never forgetting where you are and the whispers and troubles that come with it.

“Congratulations! What a blessing for you both!” You give Mr. Jung a pearly smile and he bows, he looks at your husband nervously, waiting in a tense silence.

“Thank you, your Highness. Blessings to you both as well.” Yunho’s smile falters at Hoseok, before he pats the lord on the back and returns back to his facade. The air is thick, with the unsaid words. He hums and nods in gratitude.

No one spoke, what was left unsaid was louder than the chatter around you. Blood rushes to your head and your chest constricts, white specs clouds your vision. Your lungs no longer take in the oxygen, everything fading to the background. You need to leave.

Now.

Yunho looks down, coming to realize what was happening. He cocks his head, a vicious glint in his eyes. The iron grip on your waist turns tighter, it’s a warning to stay put. The walls begin to close and you find it hard to breathe, Gods why were they so cruel to you?

“You will have to bring your wife to see me, I would love to help her plan her baby shower. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the powder room.” You wheeze, they start to bow as you turn your body to bolt. A hand reaches out for yours, your husband stares at you with malice and disgust. 

You yank your hand away and briskly walk to the exit as fast as you can without making a scene. Your hands come to the wall a few feet outside the banquet hall and you lean into it; the air doesn’t seem to enter your lungs, leaving them burning, aching, shrinking. You kneel and start to count.

One, two, three.

You had to get as far away as possible.

It had been a while since you had a panic attack, they became less frequent, because over the years you’ve come to learn to live with them. The constant conversations and expectations of you to complete your duties were bringing them to the surface, it gave you no peace.

You get up panting, looking everywhere and nowhere. Somewhere to hide and escape from this dreaded place and circumstances. It didn’t matter where you went, you started sprinting down the hall. Fuck all, and fuck the heels on your feet.

“Your Highness, please!” A voice bellowed, slightly panicked, you didn’t give a damn who it was. You kept running aimlessly down the hall and didn’t stop for a single thing. A hand abruptly grabs yours, pulling you into a secluded hallway. Turning to face the person, you yank your hand away, ready to unleash the pent up frustration at the person who dared touch you. The desperation to leave far greater than the consequences of what your actions could’ve caused. None of it mattered to you, the panic clouded everything leaving the ends of your vision tinged in black spots. There was no going back to how things were, you had to face what you needed to let go.

Doe eyes met yours and his chest was heaving, dread etched all on his face as he caught his breath. “Please,” Jungkook motions are the chair near you, “take a seat, you need to calm down.”

You couldn’t believe this, your mind reeling, yearning. You shake your head violently, pulling your arm away from him before he reaches again more aggressively and desperately. You looked for options, anything. 

“I need fresh air, please.” Your chest heaved up and down, lungs still having a mind of its own and not allowing you to get a proper breath.  You look deeply into the eyes of your body guard’s, trying to plead with your eyes. Jungkook purses his lips, scrutinizes you as uncertainty swirls around him. You try to give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, which probably resembles a grimace. 

He sighs and glances at a balcony before looking into your eyes, authority and caution in his irises. “Alright your Highness, there’s a balcony. We can get fresh air there, you will be able to catch your breath there.” He gently grabs your elbow and leads you to the French doors opening them before pushing you both in quickly.

The breeze instantly hits, you immediately start to take deep breaths, thanking the air that is entering your lungs selfishly. He leans on the door, silently watching you, feeling some relief too. He feels like he can finally breathe himself and he watches you softly, and feeling at ease seeing you gain some composure. 

“Thank you..” you whisper into the winds and your eyes flutter close, he stares at you in awe. He feels the ends of his lips quirk up.

He can do this, he can let himself loosen up. While your eyes are closed and no one there to witness it. 

Just this once, Jungkook. Gods, did he love to torture himself, so selfish.

Just this once he wants to abandon his inner conscience and be selfish, what was wrong with being selfish? But he always feels guilt in the pit of his stomach when thinking of such a thing. He was never allowed the luxury of thinking of himself, for himself. Something many people took for granted and so carelessly did with it what they pleased.

But you, you were made of the same. You know the agony it is of not having something for one’s self. You know just as much of it as he does.

One of the same.

Coming back to the current situation, he hums and looks past you to take in the view, two stories up and overseeing a beautiful garden. The very garden he ran around as a kid, playing cops and robbers with the king. 

Of course he was the robber.

Soft whispers of the wind sing through his hair, tousling it and brushing it in his eyes. He pushes it back and tenses, coming to realize your eyes were trained on him. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine at the intensity of your gaze. You had an ability to turn him into putty, to do as you pleased with him, always.

He tried, of course he tried. He tried to not let your stare smoulder through his defenses, he tried so hard to forget you and your allures. But alas, he could not forget your eyes on his skin, no matter how much he wishes to the Gods. It was always impossible to forget, at least when it came to your heated gaze and fiery temper. He should know better, should know not to want something he can never have.

“It wasn’t a problem, your Highness. Are you feeling better?” 

You throw your head back and smile at the stars, unknowingly allowing Jungkook to drink in the column of your neck. He traces it before he moves his gaze back to the garden, his hand tightening around the railing. He pleaded for someone, to the Gods, wishing he had more self control than he had at the moment, his fingers flexing as he held himself back from reaching out to you.

“Yes, thank you Jungkook. This has made a world of a difference.” You give him a small shy smile, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He bows his head, keeping his eyes away from you.

For a moment you forget, the hostile environment revolving around you always, and why you so desperately needed this moment. 

Until it comes back.

The smiles fade from your lips, as does it on his. The air tense, heavy on your limbs. 

“You know,” you look sadly out to the horizon, longingly at the gate separating you from everything. You glance at the stars, whispering your secrets to them. “I feel at peace in this moment, but I yearn for more. To be as far from here as possible.” 

Jungkook stiffens, ice invading his limbs and spine as he stares at you wordlessly. His hand comes off the ledge and observes you wearily, he doesn’t say a word. 

He can’t be a part of this conversation, he is the king's most trusted knight. The one selected to look after the queen, an honor in itself. His loyalty to the king has never been questioned. 

But why is he questioning so many things today?

“I don’t believe it is a good thing to think like this, your highness..” He murmurs looking around, making sure no one is around the doors before he puts his steely gaze back on you. You meet his eyes, his so unreadable, so hard to understand. You tense and give him a cold smile, trying not to snarl at him.

“Forgive me, how foolish of me to think of that. Please take me to my room, and give me whereabouts to the king.” You spit out, leaving no room for denial. You pass him quickly, careful to not touch him as you open the door on your own accord. 

How foolish, ____. You think to yourself no longer able to face Jungkook, he will give you up the moment the king asks him to.

Jungkook looks at you solemnly and bows as he starts walking you to your chambers. A dark pit in his stomach, he searched for words to reassure you, but he can’t seem to say them. 

This whole night is leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He follows you silently to your chambers, feeling more out of place than he has ever. This wasn��t right, he had always felt at peace with what the king had thought, but this, this, it never felt right to him. Ever. It never felt right to him how close the king keeps you, sometimes to the point where it was overbearing. He watches as you pull the doors and enter without sparing him a glance. No goodbye and it ached him. He took his time as he walked back to the ballroom, he dreaded talking to the king, knowing full well of the simmering anger that grew in him.

The morning is quiet as you stay in bed, dreading having to get up to face people and the duties you have to endure. Of having to face him. Your maid, Lucia, comes in and gives you a beaming smile. “Good morning, your Majesty,” she bows to you and you groan, pulling the covers closer to your body. 

“Lucia,” you start to get up slowly and pinch her cheek, “for the last time, please call me ___. There is no one here so there is no need to be formal, and I would feel much more comfortable if you did.” Lucia smiles at you before nodding and motioning you to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

After you are dressed, you begin to make your way to the dining room where your husband is having his breakfast. You count the steps as you reach the room, one, two. Yunho is sitting at the end of the table, he doesn't bother looking at you when you take a seat next to him, he continues to sip his tea.

You don’t bother to greet him, there is never a need for fake friendliness. You tried, early in the marriage, naive to him who at the time was a prince. He was slightly less cold than who he was now, but he was not the type of man you wished you married. You gave it your all at first, your heart and soul, but he would budge and never tried to make something you were both forced into to work.

“___, I see you couldn’t bother to come back to the party.” He puts the cup down as he finally looks at you heavily. “No, no, no. You had to send Jungkook to relay and give a shit excuse.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. You see from the corner of your eye Jungkook tense, frozen.

You grit your teeth together, you always hated his condescending tone, he stared at you with as much distaste.You hum, not bothering to give him an answer, instead allowing the silence to stretch between you. You calmly bring the cup of tea to your lips, looking in defiance at him and raising a slow eyebrow.

He bellows out a laugh before pushing away from the table with hands. “You are not fit to be queen, I don't know what father saw in such a low lady as you.” He smirks cockily, walking away slowly; you slam your hands on the table as you get up to face him.

Red, everything was red, it bubbles through you and seeps into your limbs. It settles in your stomach. It felt as if the fires from hell settled themselves in your gut, you had had enough of his games.

“Do not bring your father into this, tainting such a good man’s name.” You spit aggressively and jut your chin to look him dead in the eye. He ticks and is coming full force into your space, he lowers his head and brings his face close to yours. There is no sound other than his heavy breathing, it fills the silence and surrounds you both. He continues to look at you menacingly, you refuse to look away from his gaze.

Yunho pulls away abruptly, running a hand through his perfectly combed hair. “You,” he looks at you with a quiet anger deep in him, resentment. “You are unfit to be the mother of my children, the heirs to this throne.” He mutters quietly and you flinch, reeling back and staring at him motionlessly. It steals the air from your lungs, and leaves you aching.

You push his body away before taking in the sadistic gleam in his eyes, he enjoys seeing you at your ends wit. You look behind him and see the despair in Jungkook’s face as he stands to the side hopelessly. 

Shame, embarrassment flood into you. How right is he? You wanted to crumble, but you couldn’t. You were queen, and you had your own will and fire. You couldn’t let yourself be beaten. No, he isn’t right. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and bare your teeth at him. No, he was the problem.

“On the contrary, your highness,” you mock, his eyes set on fire.”It is you who is unfit to be king.” He looks stunned, before it turns into blinding rage. You’ve heard the whispers, the gossip of how he came to have a claim to the throne, how unprepared he was for it. How much he failed his father and never could meet his expectations. He looks at you and growls, you smirk in victory. You were ready. You’re ready for this, no matter what the outcome is. Before he can do anything, Jungkook reaches you and slightly pushes you to the side.

“I will take the queen back to her chambers, your majesty.” He bows deeply to your husband and turns to you quickly. There are no emotions as he motions for you to continue walking. You shake your head, fire and fight still tinged in your blood. You wanted it, craved it. He grips your elbow firmly and drags you out the doors before you have time to react.

As you round the corridor, Jungkook turns to you halting his pace to tower over you in his full height. “Are you out of your mind?!” He bellows, chest heaving as he stares down at you as if you grew two heads. He scoffs in disbelief, running his hand over his face. “You can’t say things like that, your highness. Think of the consequences before speaking of such a thing.” He was panting by the end of his outburst, Gods, does she not understand?! 

The things that could happen? He wanted to shake the sense into her, it was dangerous, she failed to understand the problems this could lead to. 

He didn’t realize how close your faces were, you were looking at him through your lashes. Eyes steely on his own. Without a second thought, you turn, no longer listening to your bodyguard. There is no point trying to get him to understand, he would never see it any other but the way of his king’s. 

As you rounded the corner to your chambers, you turn to give Jungkook a look of warning. His steps falter, giving away his hesitation as he looks at you and around the halls. His eyebrows crease and he comes to a halt in front of you.

“Thank you, sir Jeon.” His spine straightens automatically at the sound of his formal title, he stares at you in disbelief as you look at him callously. “But I will be on my way from here, thank you.” You turn, not giving him a chance to refuse. You didn't want him seeing you grab a satchel for the necessary items to get as far away as you possibly could from here. He would've told the king right away if he saw your motives. 

Fuck all. You were going to leave right away, you have had enough. 

Walking into your room, you grab the essential and jewelry you could sell to get to a safe place. Finally, you were going to something you yearned and craved to do. Once you grab everything, you slowly open your door to peek out. No guards were stationed around your room, you glanced around in confusion. 

Odd.

However, you weren't going to waste the opportunity to slip by easier. You start down the hallways quietly, keeping your ears open for the slightest sound. Turning the hallway to get to the stable, you hear a giggle in front of you. You duck quickly and see a maid flirting with a knight, you put your hand over your mouth to keep from making any noise. They slip quietly into an empty room, and you allow yourself a sigh of relief. 

Gods, you are so close.

You could not give up, you had to keep trying. This was going to be the only opportunity you were going to be given. Finally getting to the door to enter the garden, you see the stables a couple of meters away. You can't be relieved as of yet, couldn't allow yourself to relax until you were galloping away from the castle. When you see there is no one at the stable, you sprint to the horses grabbing your favorite, Cloud. She is beautiful with her creamy white hair, and as sweet as they could come; she always knew when you were in need of comfort. She stomps her foot excitedly as she sees you make your way to grab your saddle and fetch her some water quickly. 

Once the saddle and leading rope are on and secured, you put your hand and she nuzzles her head into it. You bring your face close to hers and sigh softly. “Hi beautiful,” you whisper and she snorts nuzzling closer to you. “We’re leaving, my sweet. To a place where you and I can both roam and that is all we’ll need.” You promise her and slowly grab the rope as you lead her to the quieter part of the castle. The side entrance was not as heavily guarded as the others, it still had a few, but not many that could stop you if you play the cards right.

You can make it, __. You will.

You get on her back as the entrance comes into view, sliding your hood over your face as two guards notice you and scrutinize you from afar. “Halt, ma’am.” You come to a stall as they near, shielding your face. As soon as they are close enough, you tug on the leash and Cloud starts into a sprint forcing the guards to move out of the way. They scream and start to run after you before quickly giving up realizing they are not a match for the speed of your horse. You will Cloud to go faster, as you gallop across the bridge. 

You only have a few minutes before the guards reach the castle to announce the incident, and alert the king. It would only be a minute after that when they realize you are gone as well. You had to make the most out of the time you were given, you lightly whip the leash for Cloud to take off faster, you needed as much distance as you could before it was too late. You make a quick beeline to the woods once across and don't dare look back to hear the shouts of the soldiers getting ready to leave the castle.

Sunshine filters through the trees as you rush through the forest, you don't allow yourself to admire the scenery. Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you couldn’t let up for a second because you know what will await you if you slip and ruin your chances. This was it.

Your only chance.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of riding you came to a halt in a river. You get off Cloud and she immediately starts drinking water, you pat her mane and smile wistfully at her. “Don't worry love, just a little longer and we’ll find our way far away from here.” You start to walk slowly into the forest and lean on a tree, basking in the warm sun. You feel a feeling you haven't felt in what feels like a long time. Blissful happiness, it warms your limbs and loosens you up.

You start to make your way back to Cloud when you hear rustling in the bushes, before you can start to panic Jungkook appears before you putting his hand over your mouth. You stare at him in disbelief before thrashing around against him. Like hell were you going to go without a fight.

He lets you go before looking around for any other soldiers, finally turning to look at you at his full height. He crosses his arms and gives you an unamused look. Why? Why did he have to come, and so quickly? You start to look for a way to get to your horse before he steps into your vision.

“You would think you would take the hint, but yet here you are. Here to mock me and take me back to the lion's den?” You sneer and get into a defensive position, and he tilts his head and stares you before a smirk paints his pink petal lips. 

He couldn't help but find your defensive position adorable, you were no real threat. And if this was a different circumstance, he would teach you how to properly defend and fight, hell might even be proud of it. But you were the queen, and he was a mere knight. 

And you had run away. He thought solemnly, and he knew the hell that was waiting upon your arrival back at the palace.

“You,” His back straightened at the tone of your voice. “You are no better than my jailers, doing their bidding. Does it give you a thrill? To be the one to find the defiant queen and hand her to the king for the slaughter?” The smirk is wiped off his lips, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression. A dark silence passes by as he takes in your words, shame filling him to the brim; he holds your eyes as he mulls them over.

He hums softly and looks at the sky, his black mane shields his eyes away from you. He looks at you before allowing his facade to fall. The facade he holds around everyone. The mask he has especially with you.

“You know, I could have stopped you before you stepped outside to the stables. Before you left your room or when you grabbed that satchel.” He whispers and you stare at him in disbelief, he knew this entire time? You watched him under cautious eyes, asking silently what his motives could be. “Yet, here you are, outside the palace roaming the land.” He continues to look at you like you were a wounded deer, ready to bolt when the opportunity shows itself. 

“Why?” You say in a raspy voice, not believing him for a moment. He was the king’s longest friend, his most trusted knight. It makes no sense to you why he would allow you to leave and not warn Yunho, you were wary of his intentions.

Call it weakness. Jungkook thought to himself, wanting you to roam and have some type of freedom that you so desperately need. Call me weak for you.

Gods, he wanted to yell it, he wanted to show you, he wanted everything that you had to give. But he couldn't have it, no matter what he shouted or showed through his actions. It wasn't his to claim, nothing was in this life.

Instead he swallowed his love and shrugged softly before looking away from you to look around for guards. He was tempted, to let you leave and to allow you the life that you wanted. But he knew, he knew what he would do if he allowed you to leave. You were right about one thing, you would have been hunted and presented to slaughter if this went on any longer. If he allowed you to leave. What awaited you would be nothing compared to what would happen if you actually escaped and started a life of your own. Call him selfish, he needed you safe over your dreams and longing. At least that way he would be able to watch over you and not have to stand and watch the inevitable. He would not do that, he couldn't bare it. 

You crumbled, looking at the ground wishing it would swallow you up and spit you on the other side of the earth. You couldn't take it anymore, this sad, grey life that you led. To be helpless against the whole world, against Yunho. You let go of the last bit of strength and looked at Jungkook with tear-filled eyes, his own eyes betray him, they show the agony he feels for you. The hopelessness of the situation, the imminent result of this.

“Please,” You whisper as tears drop from your eyes and look at him in the eye, your vision blurring. “Please, I can't go back to that cage. I will not say you saw me, and I didn't see you. Just give me that small chance to get the hell away.” You were desperate, you had never been so close, it was on your fingertips. Barely there.

He sucks in a breath and brings his hands to his face, the sorrow too evident in his eyes and face. He could not allow you to see it, for then you would know. And there were things he needed to keep to himself, he could not let you know where his heart was and how tightly you had it clutched in your dainty littles hands; how it was bleeding at this very moment. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracks at the end, enough to have you brought out of your moment of despair to look at him. “But I can't, and you know I could not. If I were to it would be worse, and I can't allow that. Please.” He took a slow step to you and held his hand out for yours, waiting and pleading with his eyes.

You stare at his eyes, they were like pools full of emotion. How had you never seen them? They were full of emotions swirling, asking to be let out. They were on full display for the world to see, for you to see. How had you never noticed them? So full that there was no possible way he could hide it.

You wordlessly take it and he brings you up to your feet.

[green-blooded-computer]

Just saw you’ve already done the prompt I sent in. Sorry about that!! How about this one? “I need you to understand that you just left. That does things to a person.”

Didn’t mean for this to take so long or to be so long! This takes place at the end of ST IV: The Voyage Home. Spock still hasn't recovered much of his memory, including his bond with Leonard. Forgive my improper Vulcan. Translations are at the end!

Leonard watched the lights of San Francisco burn into the night. He took a sip from his glass - bourbon this time - and tried to wash down his feelings. It was unfair to blame Spock for any of it. He didn’t, not really, but there was animosity there that neither of them understood. After far too long a time, Spock still didn’t know who he was. They'd been back in time, for Christ’s sake. Saved all the goddamn whales. Made it back in one piece, in a Klingon ship...none of it mattered. Spock didn’t remember. Didn’t remember him.

“Doctor.”

Leonard jumped a little. “Dammit, Spock. You’ll give a man a heart attack doing that.”

He hadn’t even heard the damn bedroom door open. Everything rattled on the Klingon ship. Everything hissed and shook - there was a reason he continually referred to it as a rust bucket. It was nice to be staying in the comfort of a Starfleet guest room until they were reassigned, but he still wasn’t used to carpeting and doors that worked.

Jim had been in and out of meetings since they’d landed the Bird-of-Prey in San Francisco. Starfleet was demanding to know just what the hell was going on. Why had they hijacked the ship, flown across the damn universe, and ignored orders? Sarek and T’Pau had only been able to explain very little on their behalf. 

Oddly enough, and something Leonard was privately glad for, none of the blame was placed on Spock. He was left largely out of the politics, which graced him with a decent amount of free time that he was using to reacquaint himself with his position and with his crewmates.

When he turned to Spock, Leonard saw he was dressed in a Starfleet Captain’s uniform now, hair perfect, belt fitted - much more like his old self. The image hit Leonard like a ton of bricks. He felt his heart flutter at the sight. This is how he was meant to look - all prim and proper and dressed to the nines. Decorated. Hand folded behind his back.

Swallowing any visible feelings, Leonard stepped forward, away from the window, but kept his distance. Seeing him like this hurt a lot more than he thought it would. 

“My apologies, Doctor. I was simply endeavouring to ask you a question.” 

Spock had been open about asking his old crew everything he thought he needed to know. While he spent most of his days continuing the studies he had begun on Vulcan, there were only so many Starfleet manuals he could digest before curiosity seemed to get the better of him. He was remembering some personal things, little by little. It seemed, however, nothing about Leonard was left in his head.

The doctor was not surprised when he claimed to be looking for some answers. He’d stopped by a few times before, asking specifics about old missions they’d been on that he’d been reading in the ship’s logs, and wondering about Starfleet medical policies. So far, there had been no questions about the events on Vulcan. Leonard didn’t have it in his heart to turn him away. He was happy to sit and reminisce about everything in detail even if it resulted in too much alcohol once Spock had left.

Leonard sighed. “Alright,” he said as he laid his glass on the table. “Sit down. What do you want to know?”

Spock did not sit. Unlike their other conversations which had been casual in feeling and appearance, this one seemed to be strained. Spock remained near the door and did not move. 

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”

“I am not sure,” Spock replied. 

Well, that was an alarming statement. Vulcans weren’t known for admitting their feelings of unease, but especially not this one, and especially not since the fal-tor-pan. The two of them stood in silence for a moment and then-

“Well, speak up, dammit, what is it?” He was getting nervous now. Maybe someone had told Spock that they used to be bonded. Maybe he was here to say things were just too uncomfortable and they couldn’t be friends. Maybe he had requested a transfer. Maybe he was in love with someone else. 

Leonard felt sick. 

“I have been recovering more memories each day, Doctor, as you had surmised I would.” Spock’s voice was calm and steady. He was absolutely unreadable. 

“Yes. It’ll take a while, maybe a few years, but-”

“I have remembered something important.” 

The suspense was killing him. Nervous habit, he picked up his drink again and took a large gulp before locking his eyes to the ice in the glass. “Okay. Well...what is it?” 

Spock stepped closer to him, but still kept a few feet between them. The tension in the room was almost visible now. Bones grabbed onto the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was damn near sweating now.

“Leonard.” 

The name sounded foreign coming from that mouth. That voice. It made him angry. Made him desperately sad for his mate who - as far as he was concerned - was gone. He placed the cup back on the table and did not respond. 

“In engineering,” Spock began. “On the date we faced Khan. The ship was in danger. I was the only one who could restore the warp drive.”

Leonard stared at him wildly. He remembered that night. Imagine remembering your own death. It was incomprehensible. Why was he bringing it up now? Why here?

“I find my memories through meditation. Sometimes, I feel I am almost there, in that moment. I recall making the decision, knowing you would not allow me, delivering the neck pinch, and then transferring my katra into your mind.”  

“I could not fathom why I would do such a thing. It is very difficult to place one’s katra into the mind of another, especially someone with which there is not already a link established. I clearly remember this moment now - it took only seconds. I thought ‘how is this possible?’ I remembered over and over. Re-lived that moment again and again for the last few days until I realized - there must have been a link already.” 

He knew. Leonard’s grip on the chair was so tight his knuckles were white. He knew and he was going to tell him he never wanted to see him again. As Spock approached, it took everything for him not to back away. 

“As soon as I made that realization, it all came back. Every moment together. Every memory. Our initial joining. I knew what we had been.” Spock reached out his hand and brushed his fingers gently over the back of Leonard’s hand clutching the chair. It was just a touch - no bond came with it. “Ashayam,” he said softly. Not a title - he wasn’t being addressed. Just a word. Beloved. The word sounded so clinical. “Why did you not tell me?” 

So there was the question. Why didn’t he say anything? Why hadn’t he told him from the start what they were? “I was afraid,” Leonard sputtered. 

“Afraid of me?” Spock perked an eyebrow. 

“Afraid of...messing up your recovery. It would overwhelm you. I...I was afraid you’d reject me.”

“It would not be logical to reject one’s mate…”

“You did it once before.” The words held no malice. “I just...when you came back you barely remembered a thing. You were so concerned with your Vulcan studies and...Spock you have to understand it took years of building a relationship for you to be comfortable being with a human.”

“Years that are not lost, Leonard.”

His words were damn romantic, but not realistic. His Spock was gone. The doctor shook his head. 

“You do not believe me?” Spock questioned. 

“I don’t know. You still seem so...empty.” He cringed at the words. “Not, empty just...not yourself. Something’s missing.” Lots of things were missing.

“Part of me is empty. Joining with you would help to recover that part.” 

What had Amanda said to him on Vulcan? ‘He needs a little bump in the right direction.’ It seemed Spock was asking him for just that. ‘He is rejecting the human side of himself,’ she had told him. ‘You helped him to realize how important his humanity was.’

“Are you suggesting we reconnect the bond?” 

“That would be the logical course of action.”

His answer was so simple - as if that was the only solution. Wasn’t it more complicated than that? “Spock...I don’t know if I can do that.” Their bond had been severed twice - one my distance and one by death. He honestly didn’t think he could live through that again. “We were so intertwined and then you were gone when you died, and then I was you, and then you were gone again. From my head. But standing in front of me a complete stranger and...I need you to understand that you just left. That does things to a person.” Leonard couldn’t be sure that Spock remembered leaving to complete the Kolinahr, but he hoped it was understood - a third time would kill him. 

“I still...ah…” Leonard felt his face getting hot with embarrassment and he looked away. Spock’s hand was still over his and he carefully relinquished his hold of the chair and turned around so their palms were touching. It felt so good to touch him, but so strange without the connection. “I still love you. Of course, I do. You were a part of me for so long, it’s so hard to be by myself now.” 

“Then let us not be alone.” 

Leonard tore his eyes away from their entangled fingers and squinted his eyes at the man in front of him. “You don’t remember what it was like,” he said. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely perplexed. “Creating a permanent, telepathic bond with someone is not a decision any two people would make lightly. Even though I do not remember every detail of our relationship, I know that it was intended to last for the remainder of our lives together.” He paused, presumably to hear any arguments, but one was not forthcoming. “I trust that I made the correct decision when I initiated the Van-Kal t'Telan with you.”

It hurt Leonard that he didn’t understand the Vulcan words Spock said. He frowned. “You don’t even know me,” he said quietly.

“Leonard,” Spock responded in the most matter-of-fact fashion. “I believe you are the missing part of me. I will never be who I was unless we rebuild our connection.” Spock knew he wanted this. He had to. The way he was speaking, Bones thought he really must remember everything about what they were.

Leonard wanted to say yes. He wanted things to go back to the way they were so they could just live their lives out like they promised. “I’m afraid, Spock.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Ugau nash-veh, Hakausu. Trasha-fam nash-veh.” 

Leonard didn’t have to understand Vulcan to see why Spock was getting closer to him, raising his hand, placing gentle fingers on his face. He leaned into the touch. He couldn’t help it. Spock was so close he could feel the heat of his body. His smell was so familiar and comforting. Leonard remembered clinging to his pillow the nights following his death, inhaling desperately. 

The meld was not like their first joining. It was not warm and fuzzy. It didn’t feel like they were intertwining, moving into each other’s space. It was not like the second time, on the Enterprise, on the way to V’ger. That had been shocking and sudden and overwhelming. This time it was as if there had been something missing, and suddenly it was back. Like he hadn’t realized he was blind, and now he could see. Like there was some gaping hole in his soul, and he felt normal for the first time in so long. 

‘Breathe, Leonard.’ He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Spock had moved to hold him around the waist with his left hand. His right still prodded gently into his cheekbone. It was as if he was seeing the man clearly for the first time since his death. 

Leonard cupped his face lightly with both hands. “Thank God for you,” he said quietly. “I missed you so much.” Without waiting for an invitation, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Spock’s mouth. His stomach did a flip when he felt the other man kiss him back without hesitation. “Do you remember everything now?” he whispered against his husband’s lips.

“Not everything,” Spock said softly. “But much more than I did.” He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. “So much pain…”

“Not your fault.” Leonard kissed him again. Then kissed his cheek, then broke the meld by pulling him into a tight hug. Spock’s presence didn’t leave his head though. He prayed it never would again. 

“La’kwon-sum.”

--

katra - the living essence of a Vulcan.

Ashayam - beloved.

“Ugau nash-veh, Hakausu. Trasha-fam nash-veh.” - I promise, Doctor. I will not leave.

Van-Kal t'Telan - the ceremony of bonding

“La’kwon-sum.” - I am here forever.

[eskalations]

Smoke and Gunpowder, Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, so I haven't written a fanfic since 2017? That's crazy! I watched FMA: Brotherhood a few weeks ago and couldn't get this ship out of my head. I know that my writing skills are a bit rusty, but hopefully after writing more frequently, I'll be back in the swing of things. This originally started out as a oneshot, but if people enjoy it, I am willing to make it into a series of oneshots based in this universe.

Let me know what you think!

Summary:

Even now, in the privacy of her room and away from the prying eyes of their government, he stiffened at her proximity. The careful lines drawn between the two of them seemed to blur at times like these when they were alone and out of uniform. In the dim light of her room, it was easy to imagine that they were just a quiet country boy and bold city girl again.

(ROYAI GENDERBEND AU)

AO3 | FFN

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Patience had always been her strong suit.

There were many things she wasn't – calm, collected, stoic (ironically these were all things that were usually recommended in a soldier) – but patient she was.

Except for tonight.

Raina Mustang's dark eyes had been glued to the clock for the past two hours, willing the hands to move faster. No matter what she had done to try and distract herself – shower, cook, read – nothing could keep her mind off the eternal ticking of that damn contraption. So now here she sat in her pajamas with a wet head, eyes still burning from the smoke produced by her attempt at dinner, and book wide open to page 3 – with nothing to show for it except raw anxiety.

She worried her lip between her teeth and shut the book with a huff - there was just no use pretending anymore. She glanced at the pile of papers in front of her and set the book resolutely on top of them. The paperwork she had brought home was surely not getting done in these conditions and she couldn't take her mind off the situation long enough to even bother with it.

He should have been here by now. They agreed on 2100 hours and now it was 2130 – and if there was one thing that Ray Hawkeye was not, it was late.

It looked like neither of them were living up to their usual standards tonight.

The mission was simple enough. Take one of Madame Christmas's girls out to dinner, get the information she had to offer, escort her back to the hotel she was staying in, linger for just long enough to make it seem like their good time had extended beyond their meal, and then get out of there. There was no reason it should be taking this long.

Unless….

Before that train of thought could go any further, there was a timid set of knocks on her door. By the third rapt of knuckles on wood, she had already swung the door open wide and was pulling her visitor inside.

"Colonel!" The man nearly exclaimed, a touch of disapproval in his tone. Ever the cautious soul, her bold actions set his mind reeling. What if someone had seen his dark-haired superior dragging him desperately into her apartment? What would people think?

However, that was the last thing on the Flame Alchemist's mind.

Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a once over. In his civilian clothes, he looked just like the unassuming young man she had met all those years ago – there was just one difference now. While his hair and clothes were typically in perfect order, they were in utter disarray today.

First Lieutenant Hawkeye's usually carefully combed blonde hair was now mussed in a way that implied much less professional activities had taken place prior to their meeting. If that wasn't proof enough that he had been up to no good, the white button up badly hidden by his long brown coat certainly was. With several buttons messily inserted into the wrong holes, it wasn't hard to guess what he had been doing before visiting her apartment.

Despite the incriminating evidence on his person, Raina released a sigh of relief. His appearance was as it always was after one of his "dates" – right down to the slight smudge of lipstick left on the right side of his mouth.

"So," She started casually, a smirk appearing on her lips as she gave him another once over before continuing, "It looks like you had a good time."

A pale hand reached out to pluck at one of the buttons of his shirt – however, her wrist was caught up in the strong grip of her adjutant. His hands were warm, familiar and calloused just as she'd expect a sniper's to be.

"Colonel," His voice was near pleading, face brooking no amusement. While his grip lessened, and allowed her hand to drop – the stern expression on his face did not change. She could see the line of his jaw tighten as he remarked quietly, "You know better than anyone that I have very little fun doing your dirty work."

"That's harsh, Lieutenant," The young woman's lips dropped into a pout, wounded by his words.

Despite the sad look on her visage, the man did not recant his statement.

"It's true." He spoke resolutely, joining his hands behind his back and straightening his spine a bit. She could see in his face though that he held no actual malice for his comrade – he was just tired after working overtime to get the information they needed. The Colonel was grateful to him – however, she could not pass up the opportunity to tease the serious man just a bit. Especially after such a cruel remark.

"You know what I think?" She countered while circling around to his back, hands reaching out to divest him of his coat. If there was a slight shake in her appendages due to the history that she had with this part of his body, he was certainly too polite to point it out. "I think you're just frustrated that your superior officer is a better wingman than your fellow male office mates."

Hawkeye didn't miss a beat.

"Considering the fact that I take orders from my younger, female superior every day without complaint – I highly doubt that's the reason for my distaste of these activities," With his coat off and hung by her door, he followed the young lady into her rent home's small living area. "But while we are on the subject of things I am not happy with, let's talk about the way you just let me in the do – wait, have you been practicing?"

"Huh? Practicing what?" Raina paused on her way to the couch, looking back at him curiously. The young man was glancing up at the ceiling as if the answer was going to materialize right in front of him.

Hawkeye's eyes narrowed, his face suddenly resembling the bird that was his namesake.

"It's smoky in here," He stated flatly, his hand drifting into the air and making a slight gesture as if to point it out.

. "I didn't even notice." The Colonel raised her dark brows innocently, choosing to play dumb in an attempt to keep her pride intact. He knew she was a terrible cook and any further evidence of such was sure to just add fuel to the fire.

The young man's expression, however, let her know that he most definitely did not believe her.

Ignoring his reaction, she sunk into the cushions of her couch and allowed an exaggerated sigh to slip from her lips as Hawkeye remained standing. The movement caused the straight, black bangs on her forehead to go airborne for a moment. "I was so busy with paperwork that I lost track of time – any reason you chose today to be late for the first time ever?"

Amber eyes glanced dubiously at the alchemy book laid out on top of the "paperwork" the Colonel had claimed to be doing so diligently before his arrival. If you looked closely enough, you could even see a few lines that still needed signatures that were left empty. The young man wished he could say he was surprised, but that would be a lie.

"The eagerness you displayed at the door says differently, sir."

The Colonel feigned ignorance. "I have no idea what you're implying, Lieutenant. I was simply trying to pull you into my home before anyone saw you standing on my doorstep looking like that."

The man looked down at his clothing stoically before glancing up again and meeting her gaze. While there was a slight flush in his cheeks, his expression remained the same – as though he wasn't standing in the middle of her living in a questionable state of undress.

"If you'll excuse me, sir – I am going to go and refresh myself before we continue this conversation," Hawkeye gave her a quick salute before turning in the direction of the bathroom. However, before he could make it around the corner, he looked back at her and their gazes met once again, a slight smile making its way on to his face. "Why don't you go clean up whatever you were attempting to cook in the kitchen? It seems like the rain isn't the only thing you're useless in."

Before she could even react, he was already down the hall and slamming the bathroom door shut. The audacity.

Raina sat shocked for a moment before rolling her eyes and rising from the couch. Same old Hawkeye – observant as ever. He knew her far too well at this point in their lives to fall for any of her tricks.

Entering the kitchen, she cleaned out the now burnt pasta stuck at the bottom of the pot she had left on the counter. The young Colonel had meant to get rid of such incriminating evidence before her subordinate got there, but it must have slipped her mind once she saw the time.

'Oh well…' She thought to herself as she tossed the remnants of her burnt dinner into the trash. No use in hiding her weaknesses from a man who had been her professional shadow for years. Ever since their initial transfer to East City from Ishval, they had been a package deal. She was grateful for it – since their time in the city certainly hadn't been spent idly.

With General Grumman being a very lenient leader, a majority of his work fell on to the shoulders of those who were under him. While this meant more work for them, Colonel Mustang didn't mind since the more accolades she received, the easier it was to rise in the ranks. Knowing this, Grumman usually reserved his most high profile of cases to the Mustang unit.

Being as feminine as she was – most people did not look at Raina Mustang as a huge threat to their position. Despite her title as a State Alchemist and the youngest Colonel currently serving in the Amestrian military, most top dogs in the brass barely gave her a second glance. Sure - some of them were suspicious of her rise in the ranks – however, many just assumed she had slept her way to the top.

The amount of investigations that had been done on said accusation were numerous, but so far no evidence had come forward to warrant an official court-martial. Let them think what they wanted as long as it didn't affect her goal of being able to repent for the crimes she had committed.

Taking note of her appearance in the reflection of the pot she held, she couldn't say she was surprised by the assumptions. With long black hair and exotically dark features (she thanked whatever higher powers there were daily that her mother was Xingese and contributed to her unique look), Raina could fit right in with Christmas's unassuming gaggle of girls. Her flirty nature and feigned laziness was a façade that played into this persona that she had carefully crafted whenever she had decided what path she wished to take to the top.

She didn't necessarily like being looked down upon for such behavior – however, she was a patient woman. Colonel Mustang knew what she wanted and knew exactly what it was going to take to get it. After the actions that she had taken in Ishval, it was paramount that she become Fuhrer eventually – the sooner the better.

The return of her Lieutenant broke her from her thoughts before they could take an even darker turn.

"So," She casually remarked, dropping the pot into the sink before turning to face the young man. "What's on the menu?"

This Hawkeye was one she was more familiar with. The young man's shirt was now buttoned correctly and his light hair was styled to perfection just as it normally was. If it wasn't for the slight coral smudge that was still visible at the corner of his mouth, she wouldn't have even been able to tell he had gone out earlier.

Glancing at the pot she had in the sink, his response was dry. "Since I'm assuming that pot is the only one in your possession, I suggest a simple stir-fry."

"Fine by me."

They were quiet as they worked to get a small dinner for two prepared – Ray at the stove and Raina on ingredients duty. The smell of burnt pasta was soon replaced by a new, delicious aroma.

Once dinner was finished, they sat across from each other at her small table.

"Which of my sisters entertained you tonight?" Raina asked casually as she took a sip of water, glancing at Ray over the rim of her glass. The young man was taking his first bite and nearly dropped his fork at her choice of words.

"Could you not refer to it in that way?" The Lieutenant finally collected himself long enough to answer, his expression already back to the stoic mask he donned daily. He knew she was just fishing for information – however, he knew her well enough to know that she was also trying to get a reaction out of him. "You know better than anyone that nothing of that sort has ever happened on any of these dates."

Raina shrugged non-committedly, taking a bite of her food and waiting for him to continue.

At her silence, Ray sighed before finally taking a moment to answer her question. "It was Vanessa – you should have been able to tell from the shade of lipstick she chose to leave on my cheek."

He took another bite as Raina chuckled, "I figured she was the one that had been sent. The Madame knows that Vanessa prefers Easy City clients. Did she tell you how long she would be in town?"

Ray gave her a dry look, "We were too busy discussing the information at hand to really talk about anything personal. I will be seeing her tomorrow though."

"I'm sure we'll cross paths at some point," The Colonel commented offhandedly, grinning at the slight panic that appeared on her subordinate's face. "Don't worry, I will make sure we aren't being watched."

Ray gave her a doubtful look before returning his attention to his meal. Raina couldn't let this go without comment.

"You took her out for dinner, right?" She asked, spooning another serving into her mouth before continuing. "Did she steal the food off your plate or did you get so distracted by her womanly wiles that you forgot to eat?"

Ray remained unaffected. "We actually went to a show instead, that's the reason I was late."

The young woman was surprised by this. Her Lieutenant usually stuck to dinner with his dates as it was a more casual experience. In the civvies he sported now, she imagined he had looked quite out of place at the East City Opera.

"Vanessa must have felt quite special then," Raina remarked carefully, taking another sip from her glass. "You don't usually treat the girls to a show."

"I was being followed."

"Oh?" This had the woman pausing mid-sip.

Ray finished chewing before setting down his fork. His dark eyes met her own, the concern evident in his expression.

"This is the first time I have caught someone tracking my movements," The man shared, folding his hands under his chin. "Vanessa felt it too. They were inexperienced from what I could tell in covert operations, so we lost them pretty quickly – however, I chose to remain cautious for the rest of the night and diverted from my usual routine."

Raina sighed in relief, her own dinner forgotten as she leaned back in her chair. "Trust the Hawk's Eye to catch something like that."

"The information Vanessa had was not of an incriminating nature," Ray remarked, speaking on the subject for the first time that night. Raina leaned forward to better hear the man's soft voice. "I have no idea who would have been following me tonight – so please be on your guard when you are out of the office."

"What was the information?" Raina asked, choosing to ignore the warning. Someone following them from afar wasn't going to discover anything noteworthy – her team was much too careful to fall victim to such a ploy.

Hawkeye stood, gesturing for her to follow him down the hall to the bedroom at the back of the house. Her bedroom.

Rolling her eyes at his worry, she followed her subordinate. He often was overly cautious when sharing with her whatever secrets he had discovered, checking for bugs and speaking quietly before relaying the information, but tonight he wasn't taking any chances. The bedroom at the back of her house was the one furthest from the door with curtains that would hide them from the eyes of anyone standing outside.

After shutting the door behind him and surveying the room, Hawkeye turned to address her.

"The information she had was in regards to General Hakuro." He finally revealed, his eyes following her as she took a seat at the end of her bed. "Like I said, it's nothing incriminating – but I know it's something that will interest you."

"I'm listening," Her eyes lit up at the mention of her rival. Despite the seriousness of the conversation though, she couldn't help but add on, "– and I'm sure the bugs that the enemy has hidden are all ears too."

Hawkeye was unamused by her comment. Ignoring his put-out expression, she gestured for him to continue - and, with a sigh, he followed her orders.

"Hakuro is planning on petitioning for Colonel Becker to be moved to Central when a spot is open," The Lieutenant revealed, watching as a familiar fire became evident in the Colonel's eyes. "He heard that you were planning on applying for transfer and has chosen to counter Grumman's recommendation of you."

"Tough luck," Mustang commented, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "I have it on good authority that Colonel Becker has been having an extra marital affair with one of the Madame's girls out in New Optain."

"It's Mollie" Hawkeye confirmed, his eyes looking quickly over to the window before meeting her gaze again. It was in these moments that his position as a sniper was most evident – always watching. "The Madame has a plan to keep this transfer from happening but she wanted to run it by you before taking action herself. That's why I'm meeting Vanessa tomorrow – to let her know your answer."

"What's the plan my foster mother has come up with?"

"Blackmail," The young man commented dryly, as if it could have been anything else where the Madame was involved. Her greatest weapon was the information she had against pretty much any high-ranking officer in the military – of course the answer was blackmail. The Colonel gave him a small smile at this solution.

"Let me guess," She stood and walked over to where he was stationed in the corner of her room, her voice low and even. "His lover will threaten to go to the press if he chooses to leave her alone in New Optain?"

"Precisely."

"He has a wife and kids too, does he not? I think Hughes shared with me once that he did…" Hawkeye nodded in confirmation, prompting a deep sigh from his companion. "So such a story would affect not only him, but other parties as well?"

"Meaning he has much more than just his career at stake." The Lieutenant finished lowly.

Raina nodded, stopping in front of him. It was so strange to see him without his gun holsters positioned over his shoulders – but she knew better than to assume that he was not armed. He never went anywhere without at least two loaded pistols on him. She knew him so well, yet any outsider would think they were strangers from the way they danced around each other.

Even now, in the privacy of her room and away from the prying eyes of their government, he stiffened at her proximity. The careful lines drawn between the two of them seemed to blur at times like these when they were alone and out of uniform. In the dim light of her room, it was easy to imagine that they were just a quiet country boy and bold city girl again.

But too much had happened since those days for them to lose themselves completely.

Glancing up at Hawkeye, Mustang chose her next words carefully. "Do you think it's fair that one day we may have to answer to our sins - yet for Becker to answer to his, we would have to destroy the lives of others in the process?"

The young man remained still, meeting her gaze steadily. Always her moral compass, he was the one she usually came to with such sensitive questions. While his voice certainly held a degree of sympathy, there was a firmness in it that spoke of a steely resolve.

"The goal is to not have to reveal this information," He reminded her gently, his chin tilted downwards to better gauge her reaction to his words. "Vanessa said they will do as they always do and hang it over his head just long enough for our transfers to be processed. After that, Mollie will conveniently disappear from his life."

Raina nodded, aware of the usual protocol the girls followed. They knew just how to play their cards right to further her career while remaining unassuming. It wasn't their fault that the men in the military seemed to have both loose lips and loose morals.

"You can tell Vanessa that I'm fine with the plan," Raina conceded, though there was one thing about the situation that bugged her. "Do you really think he'll take the bait though?"

One of Hawkeye's blonde brows rose. "In a position where bad press can possibly get someone court-martialed? I think it's more than likely that he will."

She couldn't argue with that.

"Alright," She agreed, nodding slowly as she worked through the plan in her head again. She wouldn't be applying for transfer for another month, so Mollie should be able to hold Becker off long enough to get everything processed before anyone became too suspicious.

Hawkeye gave her a stiff nod as well, acknowledging that he heard her orders. With his mission now completed - the young man began to shift, his eyes drifting to the bedroom door, signaling that his thoughts were now focused on leaving.

"Should I muse you up a bit before you go?" Raina asked, knowing this would rattle his nerves. Her hand reached out to play with a button on his shirt, the warmth of her palm seeping through the fabric and causing him to stiffen. "Do you think that would get tongues wagging again in regards to my activities outside the office?"

"It was already risky enough for me to come here in the state that I was in," Hawkeye reminded her – a clear warning evident in his tone. This was her lieutenant, always playing by the rules. "Please do not do anything else that could possibly result in an investigation. The Madame's services already could get us into serious trouble if anyone found out."

The Colonel gave him an innocent look at his words. "I don't know what you mean, Lieutenant – I was simply offering you the same services that my sister provided you with."

He raised his brows again. "I highly doubt that, sir."

The young woman shrugged, turning away from her subordinate. Opening her bedroom door, she walked back down the hall to where their dirty dinner plates still sat on the table. When Hawkeye made a move to pick them up, she batted his hand away. He had cooked for her, the least she could do was clean up the dishes.

She brought him his coat and helped him put it on. While the look he gave her was one of thanks, there was a slight warning in his eyes as well. She smoothed her hands over his arms before taking a step back, giving him the space she knew he needed.

But before he could turn the knob on the door, she stopped him with a gentle hand.

"Lieutenant?"

The young man turned towards her, wondering what else she could have to say.

With a smirk on her face, the Colonel stepped forward. Suddenly, their breaths were mingling and her usually unshakeable Lieutenant was frozen. Staring deeply into his eyes for a moment – she waited, watching for a reaction.

Before anything could be said, she reached up to the side of his mouth and swiped at the coral colored patch of skin that he had left unattended earlier. Drawing her fingers back, she gave him a wry look.

"Coral's not my color, but we wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea – would we?"